‘I can help you face Famine,’ said she. ‘You must find the one who may endanger him most and beseech her aid.’
‘How can any being, god or mortal, endanger one such as Famine?’
‘Because she completes him. Go find the goddess Harvest. And then you will have the only ally you need.’
I leaned back in my hard chair, pondering. The turn was unexpected, to say the least. Harvest was a minor Eidolan goddess, one worshipped by farmers and ranchers, whom were most affected by her whimsies, real or believed. I’d never heard of her tied to Famine at all in the stories told during the Festival of Radiance. That she would be cited by Clepsammia as the one who could endanger Famine defied belief.
Because she completes him.
The words stuck fast in my mind. Famine’s appetite was insatiable, or so the stories always said. Yet now that I thought on it, there was a certain logic to the thought that if anything could temper Famine’s hunger, it was the Goddess of Bounty.
But if I were to rest my hopes in Harvest, I had to first know she existed.
I leaned forward to my reading again, and found my hopes sinking. Agmon and his First Wardens, it seemed, had trouble finding Harvest. They abandoned their war with Famine and his armies to set to it, but despite months of searching, they couldn’t find her. As my reading time wound to an end, they seemed no closer to finding the goddess.
Then, just as I was about to shut the book, Clepsammia appeared to Agmon again. I absorbed the words, squinting as I tried to make sense of them.
‘Harvest has sown seeds of herself among you,’ she told them. ‘To find her, you must find them.’
‘But how will we know a Seed of Harvest?’ demanded Agmon Brandheart.
Clepsammia, Seer of All, hid her smile. ‘She will show herself to you. All you must do is hold to your patience.’
The book was named The Seeds of Famine, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one to spread his seeds. Harvest, too, had sown her seeds. And in lieu of the goddess herself, such a “Seed of Harvest” could apparently suffice in combatting Famine.
Questions swirled in my mind. What did it mean to be a Seed of Harvest, or a Seed of Famine for that matter? For Famine, it had earlier been implied it was a means of corruption, a way to sway the First Wardens to his side. What would it mean for Harvest?
Then there was the matter of Clepsammia’s role in all of this. Up until this reading, I’d taken her role for granted. As the Maiden of the Sands, it made sense that she would help destiny along its course. But her continual interventions prodded me in a new way, invoking memories to turn a new face.
First, my dream, that night Famine almost took me. A woman in gray had intervened when Vusu couldn’t stop Famine. Only, I’d sensed even then that she wasn’t human. Her features had been strange and altered; human-like, but not quite. And clutched in her hand had been a sandglass.
I knew it couldn’t be Clepsammia herself I’d seen. It was one thing to discover Famine was real. It was another to believe the Pyrthae was littered with the gods of legend. Besides, it had been a dream. I wasn’t sure I could rely on anything I’d seen in it being real, and had probably imagined her because of my readings.
But then there was the other matter. Despoina Asileia had insisted often enough that she was the Hand of Clepsammia for the claim to become meaningless. But if Clepsammia were real, could it be the Despoina wasn’t mad? Could there be a rhyme or reason to her erratic actions?
The answers would have to wait. With a measure of reluctance, I stood and stretched. Eltris’ next lesson awaited that evening, and I had another task to handle before then, one I could no longer neglect. With Orhan sniffing on our trail and a government rife with corruption and treason, I had to help Nomusa and Jaxas set things right, insomuch as we could. And since I couldn’t leave off my hunt to do it, I’d have to call in an extra set of hands.
I ascended the many stairs to exit the library. But before I left, I convinced Platon to inquire as to when his master, the mysterious Master Librarian, might be available. If anyone could answer questions about legends and lore, it would be her. After the sending the poor pupil back and forth several times, we agreed upon an appointment in two days. I was sure she only agreed to it because I was a regular visitor now. From her aloof manner, I guessed the woman’s only true love was for books.
The matter settled, I hurriedly left the Acadium and made my way toward Port. When I arrived at Zipho’s, the aroma of roasting coffee instantly brightened my spirits. A smile tugged at my lips as I strolled to the counter.
I was surprised and pleased to see Nomusa also leaning against the counter running around the tree in the middle of the room. She seemed as startled to see me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I teased her as I came around the counter.
“I could say the same for you. Grow tired of crossing your eyes in that tomb you call a library?”
“Nothing a mug of hot coffee won’t fix.”
Zipho slyly nodded and turned away to brew my drink. Leaning closer to Nomusa, I asked her, “But really, I didn’t think you left the Conclave grounds these days. Zipho was just complaining you never visit her.”
“I don’t nearly enough. But there were a few things I wanted to… discuss. That only she would truly understand.”
I looked away. Simple enough to guess her meaning by her tone. I couldn’t fault her for wanting to speak to another about her predicament with Komo, especially as Zipho had also fled the Yorandu coup. And I was too close to the situation, with too much stake, to offer the support she needed. But a small ache remained in my chest all the same.
As Zipho and Nomusa bantered next to me, loneliness slowly crept up on me. I didn’t want to be forced to sit and drink my coffee while making light conversation, but I knew it was too late to avoid it. Suddenly, I badly wished Talan were here with us. No matter how dark the situation, he seemed able to persist through it. I’d never realized what a steady presence he was in my life until he went so conspicuously silent.
Then a memory of my dream in the Pyrthae surfaced from the depths of my mind. Zipho brought me my coffee, and I sipped it absently as she and Nomusa spoke. If what I’d seen in the dream was true, then Talan had been with someone else. It could have been anyone — a contact, an ally, even an enemy — yet I suddenly wondered if it wasn’t another woman. After all, it had been in the dead of the night, and the flames had shown them so close as to almost be intertwined…
A familiar cloak passed by the door. I stood abruptly, mouthing a silent prayer. My coffee was barely touched, and Zipho gave me a severe look, but Nomusa only waved me on. “Go hunt.”
I nodded and turned out of the cafe, another silver coin hidden under my mug.
I didn’t go far, but turned into the usual alley in which I met Wisp. Once again, paupers littered the alley. I stepped around them, repressing the fear that one of them would rise and hold a knife to my throat. Besides, I could channel now, at least part of the time. I told myself I didn’t need to fear a vagrant’s blade, and hoped it was true.
Wisp waited at the other end, another hooded figure standing at her shoulder. Beneath the cloak, I couldn’t see much of their face, and I eyed them warily as I approached. I’d meant to push my offer of becoming a Verifer on Wisp again. The stranger’s presence might infringe on that.
“We will meet in the narrow alley from now on,” Wisp said, her nose wrinkled. Though she was a denizen of the streets, the reek of urine and nightsoil that permeated the air seemed to needle her.
“Fine.” I nodded at the person behind her and asked bluntly, “And who is this?”
Wisp inclined her head slightly. “This is your new Verifier.”
As I raised a skeptical eyebrow, the figure lowered their hood, revealing a feminine face with a bald scalp and ears flashing with tin spiral earrings. My confusion only increased.
“What do you mean, my new Verifier?” I demanded of Wisp. A joke. It had to be a strange joke from
my strange contact. Surely she couldn’t mean for an honor to be a Verifier.
Why not? a small voice whispered in my head. If you were an honor, would you not be a Finch all the same? The incongruity stunned me. Never had I thought about honors in such terms, and I didn’t like the light they put me in.
Wisp’s mouth quirked in as wide of a smile as I’d seen from her. “You asked me to be your Verifier. I refused. You asked me to reconsider. I did not. But I did consider your plight, and have provided you the ideal person to accomplish your tasks.”
I looked again at the honor. The markings of her caste did not diminish her gentle, pretty features. Her dark cloak obscured the simple clothes I assumed she wore beneath. Most striking were her eyes, sharp-edged and the shade of light brown of the caramel treats sold in the finest bakeries in Bazaar.
“My apologies,” I murmured to her. “I am First Verifier Airene. If Wisp speaks well of you, I don’t mean to cast doubt on your skills.”
The woman waited a breath after I finished. Though she was an honor, I didn’t think it was out of hesitation.
“I am Kelena. Kelena of House Iason.” Though her voice was soft, it had a quality that compelled me to listen more closely.
I frowned. “House Iason. You don’t mean—”
“The Low Consul? Yes.”
My mind spun at the implications. Iason was one of the five Preservists on the Council. To have an honor of his house as a Verifier… Yet I shook my head. “Iason would never dismiss you. Not to become a Verifier.”
For the first time, a flash of emotion passed over the honor’s face. I wondered at it. Perhaps this had been about freedom for her, an opportunity to escape her present conditions.
“Perhaps not,” Kelena said evenly. “But perhaps I could persuade you to try all the same.”
Considering my relationship with the Council at the moment, I doubted they would permit me so much as a drink of water in their presence if I asked. But she didn’t need to know that.
I crossed my arms. “I’m listening.”
“First of all, you’ve already seen a demonstration of the depth and breadth of my knowledge. Perhaps you remember an honor in the Laurel Palace who directed you toward the Yorandu Heir’s rooms?”
She spoke with the air of a recited speech, but her words still caught me. “That was you?” I tried to remember what the woman had looked like.
A smile quirked Kelena’s lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Do we honors look so similar to you?”
“No, no, I—”
“She was but one of my hands,” Kelena continued smoothly over my fumbling, while Wisp grinned outright. “One of the many I can call upon should the need arise. My network spans all of Oedija, even into places I suspect you have a difficult time reaching.”
Honors. I had considered the possibility so often before that her web was immediately clear to me. Honors were the perfect network of spies. They were in every major household, every arm of the demotism, throughout the whole of the polis. And many of them were in the Manifest as well, if Wisp had spoken true when we’d last met. I’d never known how to tap into such a network. And now here it was, served on a platter before me.
I pretended to consider it, not wishing the full measure of my eagerness to show through. I knew I should feel more hesitant. Despite Wisp’s commendation and Kelena’s apparent show of usefulness, I still didn’t know her, and couldn’t be certain of her intentions.
“If I’m to initiate you, I’d like to know some things first. How far does your network reach? What new information can you bring the Order?”
The honor raised an eyebrow slightly. “You wish to know from whom the Manifest receives funding. You wish to know their movements, their defenses, their plans. You wish to know where they have hidden away Myron Wreath, and what the Visage Vusumuzi has been doing since the Despoina’s trial. All this and more, I can provide you, if you give me the time and resources.”
It was a simple decision. Even if Kelena was serving on someone else’s behalf, the promise of all that was worth the risk. And Nomusa had, after all, said we’d have to take risks on who we trusted. I would just have to hold my own secrets close.
I clasped my hands together, taking care to keep my fingertips hidden. “Very well, Kelena of House Iason. I must talk this over with my fellow First Verifier, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Meet me here tomorrow at the same time and I’ll have your answer.”
Kelena bowed slightly, not nearly enough to befit her caste. I was glad of it. Seeing beyond the markings now, I felt a great sense of shame that I’d ever expected such a bow from her.
“I will await your answer tomorrow,” she said as neutrally as before. With a nod at Wisp, she turned and walked down the alley.
I looked after her with some concern. “Is she alright walking Oedija by herself?”
Wisp gave me a sly look. “Safer than you have been.”
I turned my face aside, heat flushing my cheeks. The woman was far too omniscient for her own good.
“Thank you for bringing her,” I said quickly. “She promises much.”
“And will deliver on it.” Wisp looked abruptly up and down the alley. “Now do you wish for news or not?”
“Of course.” I handed over a full silver. “I want to hear it all.”
13
The Watchers
Clepsammia knew of the First Wardens’ despair, and appeared to them again.
‘Harvest has sown seeds of herself among you,’ she told them. ‘To find her, you must find them.’
‘But how will we know a Seed of Harvest?’ demanded Agmon Brandheart.
Clepsammia, Seer of All, hid her smile. ‘She will show herself to you. All you must do is hold to your patience.’
‘The hardest command of all,’ the Hero of Man said bitterly. But at her behest, he waited.
- The Seeds of Famine, a translation from the Lighted-tongue; by Oracle Kalene of deme Hull; 881 SLP
After Wisp informed me of the goings-on of Oedija, I checked in at Zipho’s to see if Nomusa was still there, but arrived too late. Catching sight of the sandglass in the cafe, I found I was running behind for my lesson with Eltris. Cursing, I set off at a jog, leaving Zipho calling after me.
Despite Nomusa’s warning, I would have flagged down a cartman had I come across one, but they seemed few and far between these days. Perhaps they’d all converted into Seekers, I mused sourly as my breath rattled in my lungs and passersby cast distrustful glances in my direction.
Half a turn after the bells had tolled my appointment’s allowed time, I reached Eltris’ tower with several stitches in my sides. Gasping to catch my breath, I knocked sharply on the door. “Eltris! I’m sorry I’m late!”
“Not Eltris!” a voice responded sharply from the other side. “What are you to call me?”
My blood up from the exercise, I had to close my eyes and will myself patience for a moment before stiffly replying, “I’m sorry I’m late, master.”
The door swung open, revealing the augur’s face flushed with anger. “If you wish to be a warden, then you must be here for your instruction. Don’t make me wait again.”
I pushed down my rearing rebelliousness and followed her as she turned to the stairs. It wasn’t an auspicious start to the lesson.
As I mounted the last step, she called back without looking around. “Have you made progress since our last lesson?”
“Yes. I channeled last night.”
“I thought you might.” Reaching the other side of the room, Eltris turned swiftly. Her eyes glinted in the bright lamplight. “Need seems to bring out the best in you.”
She knew of the attack on Komo, then; how, I couldn’t say. Considering how little she seemed to socialize, I doubted she’d gotten it by hearsay. More likely, she’d seen the Seekers traveling through the Pyrthae, or divined it by some way of channeling quintessence I knew nothing of. Though if she had, I didn’t like to think what it spoke for her that she
hadn’t come to our aid.
“I didn’t channel during the attack. It happened later that night.”
I explained in brief what had occurred, smoothing over the anguish it had cost me. Somehow, I doubted Eltris would be sympathetic to despair. As I spoke, the augur didn’t shift, but nodded sharply as I finished.
“Radiance and quintessence. Very well. We shall focus on these.”
“Because I channeled them first?”
“Call me master,” Eltris reminded me sternly. “You show an affinity for both, girl. Even more, you show you can control one and endanger yourself with the other. Perhaps with time you won’t be kindling awaiting the spark to burn everyone around you.”
I bit back the words searing my tongue.
The augur smiled thinly. “Good. Perhaps you are still capable of being trained. Now show me what you remember of our exercises.”
We practiced body awareness first. When performing it while lying down became simple enough, she varied the positions, having me stand, then walk around the room. With each iteration, it grew harder to maintain true awareness throughout my body. I suspected the exercise would only grow more complicated as I mastered each step.
After a long time, she moved me to the mental exercises. As tedious as the previous practice had been, this was worse. My thoughts madly struggled against dismissal. It felt as if letting them go completely would scatter everything I’d worked so hard to gather into my mind, never to be reassembled. And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t overcome the unreasonable fear.
Eltris seemed to sense it. “If you cannot control your mind, how can you hope to control the Pyrthae?” she snapped, rising from where she’d been sitting crosslegged before me.
“I’ll try to do better, master.” I gave the words more bite than I intended. As always seemed to happen, the exercises had brought on a headache, and my mood had soured as Eltris pushed me harder.
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