“You must do more than try!” Exhaling hard like a mule, Eltris turned away and whistled, holding out her arm. To my surprise, one of the finches landed on it, then began to peck at her. Only then did I see the augur had laid seeds along her arm.
I watched as the colorful bird ate for a moment, then was pushed aside as a larger one alighted next to it. Two more joined the fray, until Eltris shooed them off and spread seed on the ground. Dozens of finches swooped down to feast.
As I watched the birds, I realized my thoughts had come together of their own accord, coalescing into a long-simmering question. “What beings will I draw by channeling quintessence?”
“I have already told you — beings who mean you danger.” Her voice did not have as much rebuke as before. She, too, watched the birds peck at the ground.
“Daemons?”
Eltris snorted. “Daemons no more exist than gods do.”
I hid a smile. The augur had wandered into my trap. “Who other than daemons would prey on humans from the Pyrthae?”
The augur met my gaze with a hard smile of her own. “Don’t think you can lure me into revealing more than I wish to, girl. I’ll tell you all you need to know, no more.”
I wanted to rail against her stubbornness, but Eltris didn’t respond to coercion. I had to tease her knowledge out slowly. “Very well. No more tricks. But I should know what might harm me by channeling quintessence. Just in case it happens by accident.”
“From what I’ve seen of you, it’s more likely to happen by intention. But if it will quiet your incessant questions for a time, I’ll feed you a little.” She paused, yellow eyes narrowing as she studied the finches hopping about our feet. “Pyr and Quintyr are the primary beings drawn to quintessence.”
I vaguely remembered her using that word, ‘Quintyr,’ before. “Didn’t you say Famine was a Quintyr?”
Eltris startled, looking around at me. “Damned depths of ‘Thae,” she muttered. “I suppose I did.”
Somehow, I had scored a mark, but I was more irked than triumphant. Why must she intentionally keep information from me? But once more, I held back my annoyance. “Why would pyr and Quintyr pose us a threat? What is it about channeling quintessence that makes them dangerous?”
The augur sighed. “It’s because they are quintessence. As our minds are composed of quintessence, their whole beings are formed from it. It is their animating substance, and gives them their ability to form the other energies into bodies that suit them. And as our bodies and minds decay from the years, so do they. Unless they halt senescence by gaining more quintessence.”
“They remain whole by taking others’ quintessence? But wouldn’t that kill them?”
“Don’t we also kill to stay alive?” A small smile played on the Master Augur’s lips. “Don’t condemn them for doing what they must. It’s the way of things, not something you can change. But that doesn’t mean we must give them what they desire.”
I thought uneasily of the presence that had attacked me from Linos’ touch. Had it been a pyr seeking to steal my quintessence? And what might it already have done to Linos? I almost asked Eltris, but stayed my tongue at the last moment. It was not only that she had her secrets, and I desired to keep mine. The woman had a coldness about her that made me wonder if she saw me as anything more than a tool. I didn’t want to put Linos in her power. Perhaps it was a question I’d ask Kallias the Sculptor, if I could catch him.
I turned to another question nagging me. “Famine. You said that quintessence is what he hungers for, too. But he’s Quintyr, a god, not a pyr?”
Her smile was gone as quick as it had come. “The Quintyr aren’t gods,” Eltris snapped. “Don’t confuse them for each other. Gods are inventions made up by small-minded scoria, while the Quintyr are a reality.”
“Then what are Quintyr, exactly?”
“They’re older than humanity, and were old when our world was young. They are the original occupants of the Pyrthae, and rule it. Their minds do not work as ours do. While ours flit about to this and that, theirs are fixed upon a single purpose, and bend all of their significant wills toward that purpose.”
Chills made chickenflesh of my skin. “And Famine’s purpose is consuming our world.”
“Consuming all of quintessence. But yes, our world included.”
Not wanting to consider that again, my mind flitted back to my reading. “But Famine isn’t the only one? There are more Quintyr than him?”
“No, Famine is not the only one.”
I waited for her to say more, but when it was clear she’d keep her lips sealed, I opted for a more straightforward tactic. “Does Harvest exist?”
Her surprise was gratifying. “Why would you ask that?” she snapped. “Where did you hear that name?”
I shrugged. “She’s the Eidolan Goddess of Harvest. It might be handy for her to exist when droughts are afflicting the Four Realms.”
“Would it?” Eltris mocked me. “How unfortunate, then, that Harvest is dead.”
All my smug satisfaction vanished instantly. “Dead?” I repeated.
For once, Eltris seemed solemn and sincere. “Yes. From all I’ve observed, from a lifetime of searching, Harvest long ago succumbed to her enemy. The one most bent on her destruction.”
“Famine,” I murmured.
“Yes. She was said to be able to complete him. And for a time, it seemed she had. The Hunger War ended with Harvest binding Famine. But a thousand years later, Famine has reemerged, while Harvest has not.”
I felt as if she’d robbed the meaning from everything I’d read in The Seeds of Famine. Even if I didn’t know the end of the story yet, I knew its results.
I shook my head. “There has to be more to it than that. Perhaps she’s just hiding somewhere. Like Famine was all this time.”
“I doubt it, girl. I’ve been to what may as well be her grave marker. I don’t think we can rely on Harvest to bind Famine for us again.”
“Then what of the other Quintyr?” I insisted. “Which others exist? Surely one of them will intervene. If Quintyr can kill each other, they must want to save themselves from Famine.”
Eltris was shaking her head before I’d finished. “They won’t intervene, girl. Those who still exist have long ago retreated deep into the Pyrthae, beyond human grasp, or settled so firmly into our world that they have begun losing sight of what they are. The few who don’t sleep and haven’t forgotten have no concern for Famine or are too weak to challenge him.” The augur suddenly seemed old, her shoulder’s slumping forward as she stared at the birds still hopping about the ground, searching for any remaining seeds. “We’re on our own, girl. We have to find our own way this time.”
My head throbbed, and my mind spun. But I couldn’t let things lie there. I couldn’t give up hope. “Vusu. He’s held Famine captive for years, decades, if he’s really Yama from the stories. He’s the most powerful warden I’ve heard tell of. But if he can do it, perhaps others can.”
“He’s as strongly attuned as he is because of Famine, girl. And he only holds Famine because Famine wills it.”
I looked up from the birds to stare at her. “Why? Why would he let himself be held?”
As I watched her, I sensed her teetering on the balance of whether or not to tell me. I waited, knowing a nudge would likely send her in the wrong direction.
Finally, she sighed, long and slow. “Because Famine knows that, should his opportunity arise, he can use Vusu as a conduit into our world.”
I listened to the tweeting of the birds, so at odds with the cold dread twisting my stomach into knots.
“So when Vusu dies…” I said faintly.
“Perhaps Famine breaks into our world. Perhaps not.” Eltris shrugged. “But I would hope for Vusu to hold out, so we don’t have to discover either way.”
Another thought cut even deeper. “It’s my fault. I forced the confrontation with Vusu. I shot him through with a crossbow.”
“Yes. You did.”
&nbs
p; After a moment’s silence, she turned away. “I think that’s all for today. Come in another three days. And mind my warning, girl. Do not stray into the Pyrthae.”
I nodded, and turned toward the stairs. But a sudden thought gave me pause, and I found myself turning back.
“You said before I could endanger all of Oedija by entering the Pyrthae. But I don’t understand why. Can Famine use me as a conduit as well? Can he use any warden?”
Eltris didn’t look at me for a long moment. When she did, her eyes were impassive, her mouth set in a firm line. “Any warden who channels quintessence or enters the Pyrthae is endangered by Famine and hungry pyr. But you are right; most wardens are not a danger to more than themselves. Famine cannot use any warden to break into Telae.”
“Then why is it different for me?”
The Master Augur stared at me, and this time she didn’t answer.
A realization welled up in my gut, cold and hard. I’d neglected the mystery that had plagued me when I first awoke. How I’d become a warden at all.
“How did I become attuned?” I asked quietly.
Eltris shook her head. “And you imagine yourself a Finch. There’s only one way you could have become a warden, girl.”
Then she turned and walked down the stairs.
I watched her descend into the gloom below, unmoving, consciously taking deep breaths. Only once she’d gone out of sight did I move forward and descend the stairs myself. In the dim yellow light below, Eltris was a shadow moving among the books and other scholarly implements. She didn’t look up at me as I rattled open the door and exited.
Outside, the cool air of the season drove the cold deeper into me. I left the alley and wandered aimlessly about the Acadium campus. As I passed by Acadians and pupils going about their business, traveled between the modest halls and well-tended towers, Eltris’ parting words circled in my mind. There’s only one way you could have become a warden.
Talan believed the Buyujinn, or greater spirits in Avvad, were responsible for attuning wardens. Here in Oedija, the Eidolans believed that gods were behind it. But if Eltris was right, there were no gods, only Quintyr and pyr. Yet at least one of the gods of old was Quintyr. Perhaps others existed as well, or had, before they disappeared. And if gods were Quintyr, then it stood to reason that the Quintyr must be attuning wardens.
And I knew of only one Quintyr in Oedija.
I increased my pace and turned onto less populated paths. No. I couldn’t accept that. Yet I couldn’t deny it must be what Eltris believed. Why else would she look at me with pity, with revulsion? Why else would I endanger the city by entering the Pyrthae?
But though logic herded me toward that one conclusion, I grasped for other explanations. Only two seemed vaguely promising. The boy who had spoken through the whisper finch — he had visited me twice before my attunement. Perhaps he was behind it. Or perhaps the gray woman from the Pyrthae, the Clepsammia pyr — perhaps she was the goddess in truth.
The Seeds of Famine. I’d read the book for days, read that Famine had corrupted Tyurn’s Gift and meant to use it for his own gain. But I’d never stopped to think what it meant.
Now it seemed too obvious.
As I entered a courtyard, my gaze happened on a familiar figure walking quickly ahed and relief flooded through me. Xaron. If anyone could distract me from these thoughts, it was him.
I hurried over to fall in step with him.
He glanced over, not seeming surprised. As before, he wore Hilarion’s clothes, though a cloak covered much of it, the drawn hood even hiding some of the wheat-crown on his brow. He didn’t seem much worse for wear after what had occurred the night before.
“I’m surprised to see you up,” I said.
“Kallias saw to me.” He shrugged. “Apparently my wounds were simple to fix.”
Looking him up and down, his gait seemed slightly unsteady.
“Maybe so, but he can’t make you well in a morning, Xaron. Even if he healed your wounds, you still need rest.”
“I’ll be fine.” He glanced at me. “You’re probably worse off. You haven’t had your burn seen to.”
I shrugged. My clothes had irritated the raw shoulder all day, but it was it the least thing bothering me at that moment. “I’ll be fine. Where are we headed?”
His eyes flickered to either side, watchful and wary. I knew only one place that might draw out such hesitation.
“Don’t say I can’t come. I’ll follow if you try to forbid me.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he said in a low voice. “What if you get us all caught?”
Doubt almost made me give it up. But as my recent revelation burned inside me, I felt a reckless desire to do something, anything, and it overcame the doubt. “Any of you might be followed and caught. I won’t change that. I need to learn, Xaron. Actually learn.”
“You are learning! Or isn’t Eltris putting you through those body and mind exercises?”
“Yes. But it’s more than that. I…”
The confession was on the tip of my tongue. But, with the knowledge still fresh and raw, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I didn’t want to see the revulsion I felt reflected back in his eyes.
“She holds back most of her secrets,” I said instead. “She knows what’s out there, what’s breaking free, but still she keeps them.”
“Have patience with Eltris. She’s not easy, and it may not feel like you’re learning anything, but she has a method to her mad ways. You’ll learn everything you need to. Eventually.” He gave me a sympathetic smile.
“I have a feeling our definitions of what I need to know are different.”
We walked in silence for some time. When I glimpsed the same fountain twice, I glanced at Xaron. “So are you going to take me there, or are we just going to walk in circles?”
He at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t think you should channel in front of anyone we can’t trust, Airene. You could lose everything if the wrong person sees you.”
“You don’t think you can trust everyone training with Isidora?”
“I do trust them,” he amended hurriedly. “But I’m not risking as much as you are. I’m already known as a warden, even as a warden who has channeled in a fight. It might not even impact me to be discovered here. But you put your life on the line. Is it worth it?”
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. And part of me wondered if I should be channeling at all. “You’re right. It would be stupid to expose myself.” As his expression began to grow hopeful, I hurried to say, “So I’ll just watch everyone else. I won’t give any indication that I’m a warden. Isidora already knows I’m aware of your group, and that I know the danger Vusu poses. I’ll just say I’m there to see what we have to fight against the Manifest.”
His obstinacy melted away, and he shook his head with a rueful grin. “You always could talk me into things against my better judgment.”
I shrugged. “What are friends for if not to get you into trouble?”
Xaron set our path straight now, taking us off the main road and into a rundown section on the south side of the campus. The sky had clouded over, and the alleys we traveled through were dark and shadowed. I took care to peer around each corner. We ought to have been safe behind the Acadium fence; even a determined and clever vagabond would be hard-pressed to circumvent the barbed tops of the metal wall. But it wasn’t common thieves that worried me. Seeker wardens knew no boundaries, and I doubted the Imperium’s Silks did either. Even Guilders could make their way in if they wanted to.
Finally, Xaron stopped midway through a moldy alley in front of a plain wooden door with a greeting hole. The building was made of limestone that looked a century unwashed. Its mortar suffered from the neglect, and several sections of its walls seemed liable to fall at any moment. Yet it was large enough for the purpose, and far enough from the usual paths of Acadians to avoid casual notice.
Xaron knocked three times. A moment later, t
he door opened.
“About time,” Isidora said, resting a hand on a hip. Unlike the last time I’d seen her, she wore homespun tunic and trousers. They did as little to accentuate her figure as the Acadian robes before, yet she wore them without self-consciousness. I envied her that. Despite wearing a similar set of clothes, there was still part of me that wished to pull my cloak tight about me so others couldn’t see.
As the Acadian’s gaze slid to me, her smile faltered slightly. “Ah. And you came as well.”
“I hope that’s alright,” Xaron said in a low voice. “Seeing as how she already knows about, you know…”
“Of course. Come in — we can discuss this more freely inside.”
Isidora stepped aside, and I followed Xaron in. The atrium was gloomy and poorly lit by a few scattered torches. I could barely see the high ceiling in the flickering light. Something soft like carpet pressed beneath my sandals, an odd luxury for the poor conditions of the place. The air was thick with mildew, and dust streamed through the light.
We were not alone. Fourteen silhouetted figures stood among the stone columns, watching as Xaron and I entered.
“Hello, Watchers!” Xaron called cheerily as he approached them.
A few answered back, their voices friendly. “Ho, Hilarion!” a young man’s voice called above the rest.
Xaron just grinned in response.
“Good. We’re all here then.” Isidora strode past us into the center of the columns. “Watchers, we have a guest tonight. Meet First Verifier Airene.”
The shadowed Acadians muttered among themselves. I shifted, suddenly nervous. I would have preferred to have kept my identity hidden in this dark room, but it was too late for that now.
“If you don’t recognize her name, you may know her title,” Isidora continued. “That might alarm some of you. But she’s on our side. Even if Xaron didn’t already attest to her good faith, even if she didn’t already know what we do, then shooting a crossbow through the Visage of the Wyvern should be proof enough that she’s one of us.”
The murmurs seemed to take on a different note. I glimpsed a few nods and smiles from the shadowed faces. I nodded back, glad for the darkness as my face flushed with pride.
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