An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Erran and Fessi exchanged silent glances, and Davian frowned. He closed his eyes for a moment, quickly pressing through kan.

  Sure enough, a thin line ran between Erran and Fessi. They were communicating again.

  It was irritating, but he hid his feelings. No point letting on that he knew.

  “It’s not just their delaying that we’re worried about,” said Fessi eventually. “We think that they’re actively hiding something.”

  “We suspected that the Tol might have information on Scyner,” Erran explained to Davian’s querying expression with a slightly embarrassed shrug. “But we also figured that the Council wouldn’t just hand it over. So we may have … invited ourselves over to the Central Archive.”

  “You broke into Central Ward?” said Davian incredulously. That would have been no easy feat, even for Augurs.

  “Harder than we expected after you and that other Augur decided to teach everyone in there how to shield themselves. Thank you for that, by the way,” added Erran drily.

  Davian rubbed his forehead, groaning as he made the connection. “This was last night?”

  Erran just gave him another rueful shrug.

  Davian sighed. “So why do you think they’re hiding something?”

  Fessi leaned forward. “We were seen before we could take a look, but there’s something below Central Archive. There are stairs leading downward with, what—a dozen Gifted guarding it?” She glanced at Erran, who nodded confirmation.

  “And—we think—there’s some sort of kan barrier at the entrance,” the young man added. “That’s how we were spotted. We went to investigate, and suddenly Fessi couldn’t keep us outside the flow of time.” He shook his head grimly. “I don’t know whether the barrier’s just part of the structure, or whether the Council has a Vessel that’s creating it, but you don’t employ that sort of security because you’re worried about one of the Gifted sneaking in.”

  Davian frowned, but nodded. Erran had a point.

  “We may be wrong, of course,” said Fessi quietly, watching his face. “But if we are, the Council should have no problem showing you whatever’s inside. If they have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to hide.”

  “And if they do show me?” asked Davian.

  “Then we’ll reconsider the Amnesty.” Fessi met his gaze calmly. “Don’t worry. Either way, we agree that the Boundary’s important—when you go north, we’ll go, too, even if we don’t let the Council know about it.” She paused. “And once the Boundary’s no longer a threat, we’re hoping that you’ll help us find Scyner.”

  “Our coming north isn’t contingent on that, though,” clarified Erran quickly.

  Davian nodded slowly.

  “That’s fair,” he conceded. He stood. “I’ll speak to the Elders either this evening or tomorrow—and I’ll figure out a way to bring all of this up without letting on that there are other Augurs around. I can meet you back here and let you know their response in … say, two days?”

  Erran inclined his head. “We’ll keep watch,” he assured Davian. “If you need to contact us sooner, just head into Prythe again. Even if someone’s following you, we should be able to speak without anyone ever knowing we’re in touch.” He tapped his head, indicating what he meant.

  “Even if I’m shielded?” asked Davian.

  Even if you’re shielded.

  Davian flinched, then gave him a wry nod, not letting on how impressed he was. Asha had said mental communication was a talent of Erran’s. She hadn’t been exaggerating.

  “No matter what happens, we’re going to need as many of us as possible to fix whatever’s going on up north. So I’m glad you’re here,” said Davian.

  “Even after we tried to use you as bait?” asked Erran cheerfully.

  Davian stretched. “You failed pretty spectacularly, so no harm done.”

  Erran cocked his head to the side for a moment, then grinned, though Fessi looked less amused at the jibe.

  “See you in a couple of days.” Erran’s smile faded. “And … keep an eye on the Elders. I can’t imagine that they’re going to be happy when you start asking about whatever’s under Central Archive.”

  Davian acknowledged the cautioning statement with a nod, then left the tavern and began heading back out of the city. Erran and Fessi had given him plenty to think about, but he put it all temporarily to the back of his mind as he approached the Tol’s walls.

  It was time to meet the new Augur.

  Davian sighed with something approaching relief as he finally spotted Ishelle standing outside the Great Hall.

  The well-lit Outer Ward—at least in this eastern section—was packed, more so than he’d ever seen it before. He pushed his way through the unusually thick press of bodies, waving as he caught Ishelle’s eye.

  “Why are there so many people here?” he said a little breathlessly as he finally got within earshot. He turned and put the wall to his back, surveying the crowd bemusedly.

  “I told you. The Elders called everyone together to introduce Rohin.”

  Davian blinked. He’d assumed that the Elders had meant to introduce Rohin to those in Inner Ward, not everyone all at once. From the size of the crowd—he could see others still streaming out of the hall, now that he had a good view of the entrance—nearly every Gifted in the entire Tol must have given up their evening to cram inside.

  He shook his head, examining the throng. Some were hurrying off to sleep but many others just stood around in small groups, chatting and enjoying the atmosphere. Most looked cheerful, even vaguely excited. “Where is he now?”

  “Still inside. The Elders thought it would be a good idea if he made himself accessible to the Gifted afterward,” said Ishelle. She nodded toward the entrance. “We should probably wait until the crowd thins a little before trying to get back in, though.”

  Davian opened his mouth to point out that people would just get out of their way, but closed it again with a mild frown. The Gifted passing by clearly recognized he and Ishelle, but their reactions were actually … pleasant. Many nodded politely, one or two even smiled in his direction.

  “I know everyone knows how to shield themselves now, but you’re sure …”

  “I checked. No Control,” confirmed Ishelle.

  Davian gave a relieved nod, relaxing. He’d been surprised at the Elders’ change in direction—making such a big deal of Rohin’s arrival, introducing him so publicly—but it appeared to have already made a difference. Perhaps by acknowledging the Augurs in this way, the rest of the Gifted felt more informed, and thus less as though their presence was something to be feared.

  Ishelle nudged him with her elbow. “So what about you? Find anything?”

  “I’ll tell you once we’re somewhere a bit quieter.”

  Ishelle gave him a friendly push. “Tease.” She nodded, though. She understood the need to be circumspect about what they talked about in public, even if she sometimes pretended not to. There was always the chance someone was listening in.

  They chatted idly for a few minutes, Ishelle enthusiastically running through the events of Rohin’s introduction. Davian listened absently until the crowd had dissipated to a more manageable stream of bodies, then nodded toward the entrance.

  “It looks like we can get in now.”

  They started weaving their way through the throng. Those leaving the Great Hall were talking excitedly among themselves, Davian idly noting that most of them were female.

  He stopped short for a moment as they entered the main hall, staring.

  Ahead, a tightly packed crowd blocked their view of the new Augur—almost all of them women. A male voice said something indistinguishable, and there was an eruption of laughter from the group.

  “You’re sure he’s not using Control?” Davian asked drily.

  Ishelle shot him an amused look. “Jealous?” She gave him a gentle shove forward.

  Davian snorted but kept walking, politely pressing his way through the crowd until he got to the f
ront row.

  The young man sitting at the edge of the Essence-lit dais glanced up, smiling when he saw Ishelle. He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, handsome, with short jet-black hair and the faint beginnings of a beard on his cheeks and chin. He slid his athletic frame into a standing position, azure eyes bright as he turned his examination to Davian.

  Davian barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes. He suddenly knew why Ishelle had been so excited by the new Augur’s arrival.

  “Rohin,” the young man said with a wide, friendly smile, extending his hand to Davian.

  “Davian.” Davian shook the outstretched hand warmly.

  Rohin inclined his head, then glanced around at the crowd. “I’d like to speak with the other Augurs now. We need some privacy. I’ll be available to speak with you all again in the morning.”

  Davian frowned at Rohin’s bluntness, but the Gifted began to disperse, looking disappointed but not unhappy.

  Davian trusted Ishelle, but he still couldn’t help but check for any tell-tale lines of kan stretching from Rohin to those around him.

  It was just as she’d said, though. Nothing. He wasn’t using Control.

  “Looks like your welcome has been somewhat warmer than ours,” he said wryly once the Gifted were out of earshot.

  Rohin’s smile slipped a little. “Ishelle was telling me about that earlier. The Council’s behavior toward the two of you sounds inexcusable.”

  Davian sneaked a sideways glance at Ishelle. She didn’t seem to think anything of the comment, though.

  He coughed, then decided to let it be. There would be a time to talk about their relationship with the Council—in particular, about how much they needed them—but now wasn’t it. “So when did you realize that you were an Augur?”

  Rohin gave him an odd look, his chiseled jaw clenching for a moment.

  Then he shrugged.

  “It’s a boring story, to be honest. Not really worth telling.”

  There was a sharp pain in Davian’s temple, and a pitch-black burst of smoke erupted from Rohin’s mouth. Davian flinched, taken aback. He couldn’t remember seeing such a strong indication of a lie before.

  Rohin didn’t notice his reaction, instead glancing across at Ishelle. “Did I not mention that already?”

  “You did,” Ishelle assured him, “but Davian wasn’t here. He was in town. Finding another Augur, hopefully,” she added cheerfully.

  “It’s … complicated,” said Davian, issuing an apologetic look to Rohin’s suddenly curious one. Fessi and Erran had asked him not to reveal their presence, and he simply didn’t know Rohin.

  “Ah,” said Rohin, nodding slowly as if suddenly understanding something. He focused on Davian. “You should know—I’m completely trustworthy. Likeable, too. I’m sure soon enough you’ll happily tell me all your secrets.”

  The black smoke that erupted from Rohin’s mouth was even stronger this time, and now—though it had never happened before—the substance didn’t dissipate. Tendrils crept toward Davian; he took a hesitant half step back, but before he could do more they were curling around his arms and legs. He opened his mouth to cry out but the smoke was suddenly filling it, choking off his air.

  He coughed violently, gasping and swaying a couple of times before dropping to his knees with a groan.

  As Rohin watched on with a mildly confused frown, the black cloud enveloped him.

  Davian lay on his side, staring in bemusement at the bars of his cell.

  He rubbed his eyes, hazily trying to recall how he’d got there. He remembered the conversation with Rohin … and then being carried by multiple sets of hands, his breathing strained, vision blurred and hearing muffled by the persistent dark smoke. He had done his best to stay conscious and not panic, but at some point, he must have passed out.

  He had assumed that he was being taken to someone who could help, though. Not to a prison.

  The black tendrils were gone, now, at least; he winced as he sat up, head pounding, every small movement making his brain feel like it was crashing against the sides of his skull. There were no windows here but there was light filtering through from the other side of the bars, hurting his eyes, too bright against the rest of the darkness.

  “Hello?” he called out, steadying himself against the bed before standing. He was weak, weaker than he felt he should have been. The cell was no more than ten feet across and a similar depth, pure white stone, smooth and apparently unbroken by cracks or joins.

  “Where am I?” Davian muttered to himself, as much puzzled as concerned. The cell had the distinct look of the Builders’ work, so he was probably still inside the Tol. Dazed, he moved across to the bars and leaned his face against them, trying to see what lay beyond.

  Outside was a hall, windowless and lit by the bright yellow Essence that pulsed through each of its four thick pillars. Cells the same as his own lined the far wall perhaps thirty feet away, though he couldn’t see any other prisoners through the bars. At the end of the hall was a large archway with something inscribed around its edges, though it was far enough away that he couldn’t make out the symbols.

  “Is anyone there?” he called as loudly as he could. His voice was weak, thready. He coughed, squinting against the light, dizziness flooding over him.

  He instinctively reached out for the Essence in the nearest pillar, thinking to steady himself.

  He froze.

  There was nothing. He could still sense kan … but he couldn’t access it.

  Davian closed his eyes, breath constricting as he tried to fight back a sudden wave of panic. There was no Essence in the room, and apparently no way for him to draw on it even if there had been.

  But he’d been practicing for this—he didn’t need to get anxious just yet. He had time.

  Of course, there was also the consideration that he didn’t have any idea how long he had been in here, let alone how long it might be before the cell door was opened again.

  He compelled himself to calm, quickly studying the edges of the cell. The room was lined with kan, some of the constructs vaguely similar to the Disruption shields that Ishelle had taught him to create.

  This wasn’t her work, though. This was both refined and self-sustaining. The threads were delicate, minute, layered upon one another.

  Seamless.

  He opened his mouth to call out again, but was saved the effort by the sharp echoing of footsteps outside. His heart sank as Rohin strode into view, the dark-haired young man watching him with something approaching caution, despite Davian’s captivity.

  “Davian,” said Rohin quietly when he saw him standing at the cell door. “You’re awake. Good. We need to talk.”

  “Why am I in here?” Davian growled.

  “You seemed to have an adverse reaction to me, last we spoke. Ishelle thought this was prudent, and I agreed.”

  Davian stared at Rohin, remembering again the black smoke that had erupted from the other boy’s mouth. A lie, but unlike anything Davian had ever seen before.

  “You were trying to Control me, somehow, but it didn’t work,” Davian guessed.

  Rohin made a disdainful gesture. “Control? Please. My ability is something else entirely. Unique.” He smiled, though it was an unsettling expression. “My words are truth, Davian. It’s not deliberate. It just … is.”

  Davian didn’t respond for a few moments. What Rohin had said was tickling at something in the back of his mind. In Deilannis, he’d read about many of the different natural abilities an Augur might have—there were dozens, hundreds if you accounted for minor variations, and he certainly hadn’t gone through them all …

  But when he’d read about his own, there had been another that was directly related. An opposite, of sorts.

  Very rare. Very dangerous.

  “Of course it’s Control, Rohin,” he said quietly. He shook his head, trying to concentrate. Everything was hazy, and it wasn’t improving. “All our innate abilities are a form of one of the major powers. When you say somethi
ng, it’s not ‘truth.’ You’re just fooling people into believing that those words are true.”

  Rohin sighed. “You do take the fun out of it,” he said chidingly. “But you’re right, of course. So—I’m assuming that my ability conflicts with yours, somehow. Your mind was telling you that what I was saying was both true and false at the same time.” Rohin smiled slightly at Davian’s look of surprise. “The lovely Ishelle has been most talkative.”

  Davian felt his expression darken, a sudden flash of anger energizing him. “If you’ve touched her …”

  Rohin chuckled, though the sound was humorless. “No, no. It was tempting, but … no. Messing more than is necessary with another Augur is a little too dangerous for my tastes.” He gestured aimlessly. “Besides, it’s not like I don’t have options.”

  Davian just stared at Rohin in disgust, not knowing what to say to that.

  Rohin didn’t react to his disdain. “You know, you’re only the second person I’ve met with whom I can have an actual conversation?” He sounded almost rueful. “For the past year, I’ve simply learned to … enjoy what I can. But now? I would like us to be friends, Davian.” His eyes were bright with anticipation. “I know you don’t think much of me right now—fates, I can hardly blame you—but we could do a lot of good together.”

  Rohin crossed his arms, leaning against the pillar outside Davian’s cell. “You should also know: I had a very enlightening discussion with Graybeard. You know—the one who was in charge of the Tol,” he elaborated with a lazy wave at Davian’s confused expression. “He’s dead now, but before he went, he had some very interesting things to say about us Augurs. For example. Did you know that half of the Elders here were aware that the attack on Ilin Illan was coming—years before it happened—and used that time to arrange for themselves to take charge of us, rather than preparing the city to defend itself?”