The warriors then escorted her from her room to the first room, where Kallish, Kester and Orlis were settled around a large table, remnants of a meal before them, a few used plates at other chairs suggesting that the warriors were taking it in turns to eat.
“How do you feel?” Orlis asked.
“A little sore. And hungry.”
“Undurat, ask the kitchens for more. And more mint tea,” Kallish instructed. The giant warrior padded silently away, leaving Kallish’s dark eyes assessing Arrow as she sat next to Orlis, opposite the warriors. “You seem better.”
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you all.”
She had nearly died. Again. It was a tiresome habit. And they had rescued her again. Which was a wonderful gift.
She sipped the mint tea Kester handed across the table to her, stomach growling.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Nearly a full day.”
She paused before taking her next sip. That made it the second day since the reception. Whatever momentum there had been in the investigation had faded. She could only hope they could recover it. Despite the rest, she still felt heavy, as though she had not slept nearly long enough. A sensation she was very familiar with. “What news?”
“None of the nulls could have attacked you. Elias is certain, and Miach vouches for him.”
“They are the Queen’s own guard,” Kallish scolded Orlis.
“And only interested in protecting the Queen. What about Teresea? What about the farmer? What about Arrow?”
“So, if not a null, then who?” Arrow’s head pounded with the brewing argument and she reached into a pocket, looking for a healing potion she thought she had put there. Instead of the potion her fingers closed around a folded cloth. Curious, she brought it out of her pocket and unfolded it, finding the tiny scrap of cloth from the library.
“What is that?”
“I had forgotten it. When Teresea died, there was someone else there. He left this behind.”
“What an odd thing.” Orlis’ eyes flared amber as he looked at it. “So dull in first sight and so vivid in second.”
“I know.” Arrow was distracted as Undurat returned and put a tray piled high with food in front of her. She thanked him, meekly taking a plate and a few items from the tray under his stern gaze. He seen satisfied, his attention caught instead by the scrap of cloth.
“An invisibility cloak,” he said. “I have not seen one for years.”
“A what?” Arrow stared, sure she had misheard. Such things were legend among humans. The Erith did not believe in fairy tales.
The giant blushed, and sat on one of the chairs at Kallish’s gesture.
“That is the common name. It is …” he paused to find the right words, “woven by the same temples as make the war mages cloaks. On one of the islands in House Nostren territory. Or so legend says.”
“I have never heard of such temples.” Orlis’ curiosity was alive again. As was Arrow’s.
“War mages cloaks are woven elsewhere?” She had always assumed that the Academy was responsible for producing the cloaks, or the war mages themselves.
“Yes,” Kallish’s face tightened, eyes not quite meeting Arrow’s, “and gifted where the temples deemed appropriate. You are not the first graduate without a cloak.”
Before Arrow could give voice to the many questions that raised, Kallish turned to Orlis, giving him more information to answer the questions burning in his eyes.
“No one knows where the temples actually are. Rumour says that they were destroyed a long time ago, during the last mass incursion.” Kallish’s attention was sharp on the scrap of cloth, at odds with the sorrow in her voice. “But another story goes that a previous Consort decided they had insulted her and insisted they were pulled down stone by stone.”
“We believe that the cloth is no longer made,” Undurat added, “but it was supposed to work a bit like the shadow realm.”
“All colours at once.” Arrow nodded, picking the scrap up and turning it over, seeing the colours flare in second sight while they remained dull in first sight. “A very clever disguise.”
“Unless you use magic. Then it is blinding.”
“How many people go about using their second sight all the time?” Arrow turned to Orlis. “I only found this because I was examining the spells in second sight. If had been in the first world I may have missed it.”
“The cloth was supposed to go through wards,” Undurat added, helping himself to some items from Arrow’s tray.
“Like a null.” Kester was the first one to say it, Arrow too busy eating under Kallish’s stern gaze.
“So the attacker could be anyone,” Kallish finished the thought, clearly displeased. Her head tilted, attention caught elsewhere and a moment later Arrow heard a brisk knock at the outside door. Surprised, she twisted in her chair, just able to glimpse the edge of the door, closed in defiance of Erith customs, the small entranceway windowless and dark. Xeveran’s third flowed through the room to take up position around the space before Xeveran himself opened the door. It opened so that Arrow could not see the gap, just the slice of light that cut through the entrance hall followed by another shadow entering the building, Xeveran closing the door quickly, the building’s wards flexing in readiness for the next visitor.
“Come and sit.” Kallish waved to a chair. Miach came into the room and took a chair in silence. He was still pristine in his clothing, dress uniform telling Arrow that he may not have slept since the Queen’s reception. The shadows under his eyes and pale undertone to his skin added weight to her guess.
Undurat rose without complaint and disappeared into the building again.
“What have you learned?” Kester asked, not giving Miach a chance to settle.
“Too little. There has been no poison blade found, and no trace of anyone in the corridor when you were attacked.”
“There were more attackers?” Arrow had not spotted anyone else.
“A few.” Kallish dismissed Arrow’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Unskilled and mostly untrained. They were no difficulty.”
“And not traced.” Miach scowled. “The ward keepers say there was nothing there before you came along. They insist that the attackers were invisible.”
The others’ eyes all turned to the small scrap of cloth as Undurat came back with another tray laden with food, and a pot of Erith tea. Even catching the scent made Arrow’s stomach twist and she picked up her own cup in haste, inhaling the mint.
Miach, naturally, demanded to know what the cloth was and Undurat and Kallish repeated their explanation.
“I know this cloth. There is very little left and mostly kept tightly guarded in Houses. Not something to be used lightly.”
“And yet someone is using it.”
“Yes, young thing.” Miach sighed, scrubbed a hand across his face, shoulders slumped. “And we cannot trace them.”
“Not normally, no,” Arrow said slowly, idea forming.
“Not without escort, mage,” Kallish said firmly.
Arrow sighed, about to protest, when the muscles along her arm cramped from holding the cup, not fully healed from the knife wound, and she had to put her cup down. She inclined her head instead. “I do not know how many I can take. We will have to experiment a little.”
“Arrow, I have not slept for three days. Explain.” Miach’s tone was forced patience, the promise of violence barely hidden.
“Arrow is a shadow-walker,” Orlis said, normal good mood restored, “and if this cloth is like shadows then-”
“You should be able to trace these attackers in the shadow world,” Miach finished, expression lightening a fraction for the first time since he had sat down. He reached for a cup and a plate.
“You will need armour,” Kallish said, tone making it an order.
“Yes. I have been meaning to ask.” Arrow felt her mouth twitch in an unexpected smile at Kallish’s sour look. She could almost hear the lecture that ran behind the warrior’s e
yes before Kallish simply shook her head, glanced across the room to Xeveran and lifted a brow. He ducked out of the room at once, not needing any words. Arrow held in a sigh, the healing wound on her arm stinging. An armoured coat would have stopped the blade. She knew she needed one so it was foolish to resent having to wear one.
“There was another disturbance earlier,” Kester said, “not far from here.” Arrow trusted his word. She had slept through the whole thing.
“Evellan and Seivella,” Miach answered, putting his fork down for a moment, all lightness gone.
“Here? Why?”
“They claim they were summoned by the lady to explain their actions.” Miach was staring into nothing, eyes flat. “And that they arrived only this morning.”
“Claim?” Kallish picked up the word.
“The lady has sent no such instruction. None of her cadres recall it.”
Arrow drew a breath in, considering the implications of that. There was no way, given what she knew of Evellan and Seivella, that they would both, voluntarily, leave the Academy together and come to the Palace. Nor would they make up such a tale. Someone was sending orders in the Queen’s name. And not just minor orders. Summoning the head of the Academy and his deputy was a bold move.
“Is the Academy guarded? And the Taellaneth?” she asked.
“Yes and yes. Whintnath has closed the gates. At both sides. And the wards are up.” Miach was grim.
It would need every Teaching Master and Mistress, and several of the senior students, to maintain the Taellaneth’s wards, crafted into the great wooden walls. The White Guard stationed there would normally assist, but would be too busy with additional patrols. The Taellaneth was a defined space, with clear boundaries, but it was a big area.
“How did they get here? The mirror needs both ends,” Orlis said, cutting across Arrow’s thoughts.
“The portal mages had instructions to assist.”
“In the Queen’s name, too?” Kester’s normally golden skin was a shade paler, perfectly understanding the implications, along with everyone else at the table.
“That is treason,” Orlis murmured.
Unless you had no allegiance to the Queen, Arrow thought, stomach twisting again, and there was only one person in the whole of the Palace that applied to. UnNamed and with no House claiming her, she was an obvious suspect.
“She believes she is in danger,” Arrow told them, catching the attention of the entire group. The weight of the stares made her continue. “At her toast to Seggerat she showed me a number of different people. Possible suspects.” She touched her cheek, where the Queen had put her hand.
There was a pause around the table as the others considered that.
“People often forget she is a skilled mage,” Miach murmured, mouth thin, “and also a stupidly stubborn female. She has said nothing to me.”
“One of her favourites was killed. Seggerat died. The farmer who supplied her mercat is dead. And where is Noverian?” Arrow asked, more bluntly than she had intended.
Miach lifted his head, eyes black shot with amber as he stared at her, face set. A powerful mage in his own right, and with the Queen’s authority to act in the Palace and across all Erith territory. In the hard lines of his face, Arrow saw the determination that had kept him at the Queen’s side for decades, defeating her enemies with the cutting intelligence she could see in his eyes. A chill worked its way through her body but she did not back down. She was no reader, to see the truth of matters, but she had an instinct that the answer to that question was as important as knowing what had happened to Gilean.
“Noverian’s people are not talking,” the Queen’s guard said at length, finishing the last of his tea in one swallow.
“He has not been seen for days,” Orlis said, “although no one is sure when he was last seen or where.”
“He is not behind this.” Miach’s voice was heavy. “He and the lady respect each other too much.”
“I did not say he was.” Arrow leant forward, catching his attention again. “He may be in danger. Along with the Queen.”
“Proof? Evidence?” Miach was bitter. “I have nothing to force his people to open his rooms to me. And the lady will not hear of it.”
“We can …” Arrow began, then hesitated. Miach was loyal to his Queen and she had been on the verge of suggesting something he might regard as treason and try to prevent. “We will search for these attackers,” she finished instead. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
“That would be a help.”
“May I speak with Evellan and Seivella?” she asked as he rose from the table.
“They are in the dungeons under guard. No visitors may enter.” The gleam was still in his eyes, though.
“I understand. I hope that they are being cared for.”
“Healers have attended them but they are generally left alone.”
“I see.”
Kallish rose and walked Miach to the door, exchanging a few quiet words as they went. Arrow pulled the tray of food towards her and ate rapidly. There would be no more rest for a while and magic use required a great deal of energy, even with the vast power she carried.
“Armour,” Kallish said flatly when she returned, eyes on Arrow.
“Yes, svegraen,” Arrow said meekly, between mouthfuls of food.
“And at least a full third.”
“I will try.” Arrow glanced at her now-empty plate, remembering the amount of power required to enter and leave the shadow realm. “Can we bring food?”
“You want to stop for a snack? Gilean is in danger.” Orlis’ hair was on end again, worry making his tone sharp.
“I know,” Arrow answered softly at the same time as Kester spoke.
“The mage knows what she is about. And Gilean’s absence concerns us all.”
“I need my bag.” Arrow ducked away from Orlis’ eyes and left the room on quick strides.
CHAPTER 16
Xeveran held an armoured coat for her and helped her shrug into it, ensuring the fastenings were done. The warriors had somehow found a better fit than the one she had borrowed before. The one that had saved her life, deflecting a bullet just enough to injure rather than kill. She might be tall as an Erith, but she was not as broad as the warriors who wore these coats. It was still heavy and unwieldly, but more fitted around her body so it did not hamper her as much. She put the satchel over her shoulder. Kallish’s third were ready, their own coats fastened to the throat, weapons prominent.
“You are in charge until I return,” Kallish told Xeveran.
“Lights and line of sight at all times, yes,” Xeveran replied, accepting his command and stood back to let Kallish’s third gather around Arrow.
“I do not know if this will work,” Arrow told them, drawing a deep, steadying breath. Her stomach was fluttering with nerves, the food she had consumed settling uneasily.
“We will try and see,” Kallish said implacably, waiting.
“Very well. Svegraen,” Arrow turned to Xeveran, “solid objects are impassable in the shadow realm. That means that if we succeed we will need to leave through the door.”
Xeveran considered the closed front door for a moment.
“So, we should not immediately panic at the door opening and closing by itself.” He nodded, accepting the situation with a calm that Arrow envied.
She gathered her power, and opened her second sight. The powerful ward spells in the building flared to life before her eyes, testament to the Palace ward keepers’ skill, leaving little room for shadows. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brilliance. There was a fissure there, a slender gap. She spoke the command for it to open and hesitated. The shadow world was still new to her. There had been little time for experimenting, even with the more relaxed life in the human world. She could see the first world shapes of Kallish’s third round her, patiently waiting. They would not be able to see the fissure, she realised. Still, she hesitated another moment before holding out a hand, the Erith’s disdain for her
too ingrained. “I think you may need to touch me, svegraen, for this to work.”
Less than a breath later, five hands landed on her, three on her arm and one on each shoulder. The lack of hesitation and the unfamiliar sensation of others’ hands on her, not in pain or threat, made her pause again, nerves overwhelming for a moment.
She took another breath, conscious that all the warriors would be able to sense her tension, and not wanting to explain it, then forced her feet to move. One step forward. The five hands tightened slightly but stayed with her. Another step and another and they were through the fissure and into shadows, the first and second worlds disappearing.
Kallish’s third murmured uneasily at the new sights around them.
“This is the shadow realm,” Arrow told them unnecessarily. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, curious and attentive. She could not remember being the subject of such polite and close attention before and had to clear her throat to loosen her voice before going on. “Things do not work the same here. We can move much more quickly and each step will carry us further. Second sight is not reliable. And wounds here will translate to the first world.” She paused, trying to think what else was important. “And you use more energy here than in the first world.”
“And we cannot go through solid objects,” Undurat added. “Can we harm beings in the first world?” His eyes were on a nearby shadow in the first world that Arrow thought was Xeveran.
“Unlikely,” Kallish put in, “or the rogue would have killed us all without showing himself.”
“You can touch solid objects. But not damage them. I have … tried to damage solid objects from the shadows,” Arrow admitted, heat rising across her face as the warriors turned their attention to her. “I do not recommend it.” She could still feel the echo of recoil through her arm from trying to punch a wall. “The first world objects seem impenetrable from the shadows.”
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