An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Above, the laughter faded.

  “Careful, Augur Davian,” said Lyrus, all mirth gone from his tone. “I give you and Augur Ishelle some leeway with your lack of respect. I won’t with threats. The Amnesty places you under our direction. Remember, you’re afforded protection from the law only so long as you do as we tell you to.” He smiled again, and this time the cold, confident superiority of the expression made Davian’s blood boil.

  He stared up at the Elder.

  “I’m not threatening you, Elder Dain,” he said quietly. “I’m just trying to work with you.”

  He was sick of this. He’d only been here a week, but the Council weren’t even pretending that they had a sense of urgency about the situation. That was likely because, at least in the short term, actually sealing the Boundary would prevent Tol Shen from capitalizing further in Ilin Illan—but he hadn’t come here just to be a pawn in their quest for more power. Davian had left Wirr and Asha behind because the threat of what lay beyond the Boundary—what Caeden had warned them about—was something that couldn’t be taken lightly. It certainly wasn’t simply a risk to be balanced against improving Tol Shen’s political standing.

  And yet, that was exactly how the Elders here were treating it.

  “Besides,” he added.

  He reached out, pushing through kan. Forced himself out of the flow of time.

  He walked through the passageway to his left, past two sets of guards and up the steps to the Elders’ balcony. Once there, he positioned himself behind and slightly to the right of Lyrus, in front of the other Elders present.

  He placed his hand on Elder Dain’s shoulder and leaned forward, letting time wash over him again.

  “Augurs shouldn’t need threats,” he concluded quietly into Lyrus’s ear.

  Lyrus leaped from his seat as if Davian had physically attacked him; other Elders flinched away, gasping at his abrupt appearance in their midst.

  Davian paused for a few seconds to make sure his point had been made. From Lyrus’s blanched face and the deathly silence that followed his pronouncement, he suddenly wondered if he’d gone too far. He’d wanted to show Elder Dain that he was unintimidated, not make an enemy of him.

  Still—his point had been made, and it was too late to take it back. A week of being polite had got him nothing but excuses. It had been past time to show the Elders that he and Ishelle weren’t there to be pushed around.

  He glanced down below at Ishelle, giving her a slight shrug before forcing back time once again.

  He left.

  Chapter 2

  Asha held her breath and flattened herself against the smooth, Essence-lit wall of the corridor, heart pounding loud in her own ears.

  She silently cursed her luck and stayed perfectly still as the three red-cloaked guards drew nearer. They were early today; she should have had plenty of time to reach the main level of the Tol before they’d even started the trek down here. A careful glance over her shoulder showed three of the half-dozen Gifted behind her were already in motion, one idly examining the Victor’s Lament as he stretched, unintentionally blocking the entrance to the Sanctuary. There was no going back that way.

  She screwed up her face in frustration, though careful to ensure it didn’t cause her head to shift. She should have waited a few more minutes before leaving. Her impatience—and perhaps overconfidence after doing this so many times—was going to get her caught.

  Moving deliberately, she turned her gaze back to the men walking toward her, trying to stay calm. Was the burly one on the left walking too close to her side of the corridor? The Veil rendered her invisible, but that hardly mattered if someone managed to blunder into her.

  She tensed, ready to move swiftly if she had to; better to cause suspicion and confusion than to get caught outright. The guard’s arm passed within an inch as he strode by, his cloak actually brushing against her legs as it flared out behind him.

  Asha froze. That would have looked strange to anyone paying attention.

  Nobody reacted.

  Resisting the urge to exhale in relief, she forced her legs into motion and moved silently in the opposite direction, keeping to a quick walk. She had a minute or two, but the men being relieved wouldn’t wait long before they started making their way back up to the Tol. There were two more sets of guards for her to navigate, and the last thing she needed in these narrow corridors was more people to avoid.

  She hurried through the abandoned passageways of Tol Athian’s lower level. As always, the dim lines of Essence emphasized the area’s emptiness almost as much as the sound of her footsteps, which now that she was alone managed to echo no matter how softly she trod. At least it was a familiar journey; she made the myriad turns back to the main stairwell confidently, not bothering to pause and check the carefully sketched map she kept folded neatly in her pocket.

  A few minutes and six guards later, and she was on the main level of the Tol again, stairwell behind her and out of sight. Checking that no one was around—nobody but the assigned guards ever came this way, but it never hurt to be cautious—she deactivated the Veil, slipping the smooth silver torc into her pocket and breathing out a slow sigh of relief.

  That had been close, closer than any of her other sojourns down there. She had to be more careful in future.

  She adjusted her fine red cloak and started walking, slipping smoothly from the side tunnel into Tol Athian’s main passageway. A passing Administrator shot her a half-suspicious, half-sullen look, but otherwise nobody paid her entrance any notice; the crimson flow of traffic here was dense, close to that of a busy city street.

  Even so, it wasn’t hard to see that there were markedly fewer Gifted hurrying by than there once would have been. Those who did still wore anxious, vaguely haunted expressions, too. The month since the Blind’s incursion had done little to ease the grim mood of Tol Athian’s residents.

  A few minutes later she was turning into the narrow corridor that accommodated the small study the Council had set aside for the Representatives’ use. Her heart sank when she saw that the door was ajar.

  Pausing and taking a deep breath, she pushed it fully open and strode inside.

  “Taeris,” Asha said politely as she entered the brightly lit but cramped room, affecting nonchalance. This was Taeris’s study as much as hers, but he rarely used it, as evidenced by the close to complete lack of anything on his desk. Hers, by comparison, was a chaotic mess of paper, scribbled notes, and reams of reports hiding every inch of the scratched wooden surface beneath.

  “Ashalia.” Taeris sighed, making no effort to keep the wry disapproval from his scarred face. Asha noted with curiosity the new line of angry red that ran down his cheek, almost reaching his jawline. “Please shut the door. I think we need to talk.”

  Asha gave a slight nod, flicking the door shut and taking a seat at her desk, which was arranged in the narrow space facing Taeris’s. “What brings you here?”

  Taeris glanced toward the door to ensure it was closed, then just raised an eyebrow.

  Asha grimaced. “Si’Bandin was upset?”

  “Lord si’Bandin was very upset. Where were you?”

  “You probably don’t want to know.” Asha didn’t fully trust Taeris, but nor could she quite bring herself to lie to his face. The conversation she’d overheard between him and Laiman Kardai just after the battle a month ago had been unsettling—she still hadn’t been able to find out anything more about “Thell,” the name by which Taeris had called the king’s adviser—but she didn’t think either man was an enemy, either.

  Taeris watched her for a few moments, then sighed again. “I probably don’t. Even if I have my suspicions,” he added significantly, rubbing his forehead. “But you need to tell Lord si’Bandin something better than “personal reasons,” this time. He was amongst the first to publicly support you after the battle. He feels like you—we—have forgotten that.”

  Asha rolled her eyes. “Hard to do when he manages to bring it up every time I see h
im.”

  “And he’s an insufferable bore to boot,” agreed Taeris readily. “But he did help stop you from being thrown in prison.”

  Asha scowled at that, though she knew there was truth to the statement. She still occasionally had nightmares about that night at the Shields, but in some ways the days following their victory had been almost as bad. With most of Administration reeling from Wirr’s ascension to Northwarden and his changing of the Tenets, Asha had become an easy, high-profile target at which to vent their fury. Demands that she be punished for giving Vessels to the Shadows had been loud and insistent. Veiled implications that she had somehow collaborated with the Shadraehin had soon followed.

  “Torin would have stepped in if things had gone that far,” she said, a little testily. Her friend had wanted to do so from the very start, in fact, but she’d insisted that he stay out of it unless things became dire. The other Administrators had already been doing everything that they could to undermine him; going out of his way to help her would only have made Wirr’s own position less tenable.

  It had been with some trepidation that Asha had approached the Houses for support, but she need not have worried. Michal, Asha’s former mentor and Taeris’s predecessor, had been nothing if not thorough in her training; it had been easy to target the Houses who could most benefit from an alliance with the rising political fortunes of Tol Athian. Si’Bandin had been one of the first to stand up in the Assembly and oppose efforts to sanction her, but he’d been far from the last.

  “I’m not suggesting you owe him our vote,” said Taeris gently. “But a meeting isn’t much to ask, even if it’s just to tell him no again. You should reschedule as soon as you can.”

  Asha nodded, doing her best to look properly chastised, though she’d chosen to skip that particular meeting for a reason. Lord si’Bandin was no doubt continuing to try to get their support for removing the Assembly-mandated limiting of grain prices, which had threatened to skyrocket after the Blind’s rampage through the north. If she had to listen to his vague reasoning one more time—and stop herself from pointedly mentioning the man’s extensive farmland holdings in the south—she wasn’t entirely sure that she could stay civil.

  “I’ll try and speak to him tom—”

  Darkness, and then she was blinking up dazedly at a concerned-looking Taeris. She groggily levered herself up from her prone position, gingerly touching the side of her head. No blood, thankfully, but it definitely hurt. “What happened?”

  “You just … fainted, I think? You hit the side of the desk on the way down.” Taeris helped her to her feet, looking at her worriedly and steadying her with his arm. “Should I take you to the physician?”

  “No.” Asha straightened immediately, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long month.” She made the excuses quickly; she didn’t want Taeris, or any of the Gifted for that matter, to know about these dizzy spells. Though a few of the Council now supported her as Representative, the rest were still looking for an excuse to replace her with someone of their own choosing.

  Besides—she’d quietly visited a physician already, albeit one from Ilin Illan’s Lower District. Not as good as those employed by the palace or the Tol, perhaps, but still competent, and infinitely less likely to recognize her. The man had been unable to find anything obviously wrong.

  Taeris hesitated, but eventually acquiesced with a nod. “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I’m fine,” Asha repeated, though without any heat to the words. It was true enough; with the exception of an aching head from the blow it had sustained, she felt no different from how she had moments before the fall.

  Still.

  It was the fourth time this had happened to her in three weeks, and she hadn’t been able to pinpoint a cause. It could be something to do with her trips down to the Sanctuary, she supposed, but the other episodes hadn’t coincided with any of her previous visits. She never felt ill, before or after. She didn’t even feel especially tired—no more so than she’d felt since becoming a Shadow, anyway.

  “At least come and see me if it happens again,” Taeris said gently, still looking concerned. He studied her. “I know it’s been a hard month. I know you’re frustrated with how things have gone here, too. Just … don’t let that frustration lead you into pushing yourself too hard. Or throwing away your position here after working so hard to keep it,” he added in a drier tone.

  Asha nodded ruefully. Taeris wasn’t wrong about that last part; she’d fought hard to stay on as Representative, and she was risking throwing that away by angering men like si’Bandin.

  Ultimately, though, no position was worth having if it meant being forced to sit on her hands and do nothing.

  Taeris gave her a tight smile and stood, indicating he’d said his piece.

  “Any word on the search?” Asha asked quickly before he could start for the door.

  Taeris hesitated, then grimaced. “No. I believe Administration’s still devoting a lot of resources to hunting them, but … no.” He held her gaze. “You know I’m not going to say anything, but be very careful who else you ask about that.”

  “I know.” Administration’s concerns about Asha hadn’t been entirely dismissed by the Assembly: she was now explicitly banned from having anything to do with, or any operational knowledge of, the investigation into the Shadraehin. Including, of course, having any access to the Sanctuary. “Doesn’t it bother you, though? There were families living down there. Children. And they all manage to disappear without a trace, without anyone noticing?”

  “Fates, Ashalia. Of course it bothers all of us, especially if what you’ve said about this ‘Scyner’ is true. But unless the Shadows have some direct connection to the Boundary that I’m missing …”

  Asha hesitated, doing her best to hide her frustration. The Shadraehin was important; what Davian—the older version of him—had told her indicated that there was much more to her plan than simply arming the Shadows and disappearing. But she couldn’t mention that to Taeris, or to anyone for that matter. Davian had said it was important not to, and she’d given him her word.

  “I’m sure having access to a prewar Augur could help,” she observed eventually.

  “A willing, trustworthy one? Probably,” said Taeris, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. Asha could hardly blame him; they’d been over this ground before. “But those don’t sound like qualities we can count on from the man you met. Besides …” He sighed. “I don’t doubt Scyner’s an Augur—you’re too smart to be this certain about a fake—but nobody recognizes him from the name, nor the description you gave. The Council are convinced that the Shadraehin tricked you somehow, used the concept of her commanding an Augur to intimidate you into giving her access to the Vessels. My support for you in the matter is only making things worse, too, I’m afraid. They won’t give Scyner another thought without some sort of proof.”

  Asha scowled, though it was hardly surprising news. She hadn’t told anyone about her role as Scribe or about the other Augurs—Wirr’s position was tenuous enough without stirring up more scandal surrounding his father, and while she hoped that Erran and Fessi were going to accept the Assembly’s Amnesty, she hadn’t seen them since the day of the battle. If they wanted to remain in hiding, she wasn’t going to be the one to reveal their existence.

  It didn’t help that the Athian Council were also, for some reason, constantly at odds with Taeris. Despite what appeared to be a genuine effort on his behalf to work with them, they rarely listened to his opinion, and it often felt as though their decisions were determined more by what Taeris didn’t recommend. Their animosity toward him seemed to go beyond mere dislike … but she still hadn’t been able to ascertain why from anybody, and Taeris himself had been entirely disinterested in talking about it.

  “So there’s been no news about the Shadraehin herself, either?” Asha pressed.

  Taeris rolled his eyes, looking exasperated.

  “Nothing I’d consider news. Though
there is one thing—probably nothing, so I suppose it doesn’t hurt to mention it,” he added, albeit reluctantly. “Her name was bothering me, so I looked into it.”

  “Her name?” Asha frowned. “Isn’t it just Darecian for ‘leader’?” She’d heard that somewhere, though she wasn’t sure where. Probably someone had mentioned it in the Sanctuary—half of her time down there had involved listening to enthusiastic monologues about the Shadows’ leader.

  “‘Shadrian’ is the Darecian word for leader,” said Taeris, pronouncing it with less of a drawn-out ee sound at the end. “Which is derived from ‘shadraehin.’ Shadraehin is actually ‘High Darecian.’”

  “Ah. Well. My mistake,” said Asha.

  Taeris gave her a wry look. “The High version is more nuanced than just ‘leader.’ It speaks of … unity. It’s a rallying cry, a focal point.”

  Asha brushed back a strand of blond hair from her face. “Seems appropriate, given what she’s done with the Shadows.”

  “Which is why it’s odd,” Taeris explained. “There are very, very few people who would actually know the difference. High Darecian’s not exactly common—I can barely cobble together the odd phrase myself. And given his ability to understand the sha’teth, the only person who I can think of that might have a better understanding of it than me, is Caeden.”

  Asha stared at Taeris. “So you think that the Shadraehin and Caeden are connected, somehow?”

  “They could be.” Taeris shrugged. “As I said, it’s not much.”

  Then he frowned at her. “And that’s now everything we’re going to discuss on the matter. Someone overhears us, and I’m in almost as much trouble as you. Understood?” He watched her for a moment longer to ensure his point had been made, then gave a slight nod and headed for the door.

  Just as he was about to open it, though, he paused.

  “Ah. I should also let you know—I’ve had another inquiry from Iain Tel’An.”

  Asha stiffened, her scowl deepening. The rising political fortunes of Tol Athian, along with the now-public knowledge of her friendship with Wirr, had resulted in some unexpected—and unwanted—attention from some of the young men at court. “You know what to say to him by now, surely. Same as Lyannis, and Jadyn, and the rest of them.”