I have a message from the group you’re working with.
Do they know I didn’t betray them? I asked.
I told them what happened. It’s a boon for them, actually. They've long wished for a member in your current situation.
I’m a probate, not a member, I said. What’s the message?
The leader says she has a single task for you. If you can accomplish it, you can consider your probation complete. You’ll be a full-fledged member.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall. A few days ago, you warned me about working for the group. You said you didn’t want to see me die for their cause. So why convey a message for them?
Circumstances have changed. I can’t remove you from danger—my involvement would throw fate’s wheel out of track. But I believe their organization has the resources to help you to safety. Right now, that’s what matters.
How can they help? I asked. The... paths are barred. Locked. I can’t leave.
Yes, but locks have different strengths. The group believes you have the key to the shadows. An hour after sunset, open the way. You’ll be led to safety, and your action will aid the cause.
Unlock the shadows? Did he mean the Shadow Gate? It made sense since I’d tried to hint about the gates by calling them locked paths. But how in the wide sky was I supposed to open one of Steelhold’s gates?
I don’t know how—
Shh! I sense something, Parveld cut in. We’ll speak again.
With that, he was gone from my mind.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Kostan
An alley opposite the protectors' post, Jaliss.
I ROTATED THE sword in my hand, adjusting the grip. Across the street, the heavy doors defending the central post for the Order of Protectors stood like wooden sentries. The chain which had secured them overnight lay in a loose heap beside the stairs. Altogether, the links must have weighed more than a horse. It had taken four men to move them.
I’d been watching the post since late evening, crouching in a narrow gap between buildings. During the first hour, pairs of protectors had passed the front of the building, unpinning insignias from their uniforms and depositing them in a slot below a window. Others had fished badges from a black-iron bin affixed to the building before setting off on patrol. I could only assume the bin was enchanted and would damage ordinary citizens who tried to steal a badge.
By midnight, I’d started to think the bodies of the men we’d slain would go unnoticed through the night. But about an hour before the crescent moon rose, two protectors, a man and a woman, had raced toward the post, boots thudding and armor jangling. The man had swatted away a black-iron hatch on the front of the building and reached inside. He’d yanked on something that set an alarm bell tolling in the depths of the building.
Half the city’s protectors had converged on the post after that. Patrollers had been trotting through the streets since, a double shift of empty-eyed men and women seeking vengeance for their soulless brethren.
But they hadn’t searched the alley across from their post. After sunrise, a high-ranking officer had arrived with three strong helpers to remove the chains and open the post for daily business.
And now that Functions had resumed in the rest of the city including—I assumed—the hawk keepers who could send messages into the Hold, I had no more excuses.
Time for action.
I glanced down at my sword. I hated to leave it, but I had no choice. No one walked into a protector post armed, not even an elite-class Atal. I gave the grip a last spin in my palm and laid the blade on the broken cobbles of the alley. Dunking my hand in a rain barrel to rinse off the remaining blood, I wiped it dry on my trousers and strode across the street.
There were two ways this could go. I’d try the easy path first. And if that failed, I’d have to hope fortune would favor me.
“I need to speak with the highest ranking officer in the post,” I said as I strode through the door.
A few protectors were working in the post’s front room. Writs and weaponry lined the walls of the mid-sized chamber. Unlike most official buildings in Jaliss and the Hold, there were no desks or tables, no quills or parchment. The protectors did not spare time for documents or written requests. Their business was death and intimidation, and they pursued it without distraction.
Standing at a waist-high workbench, a woman looked up from the leather sheath she was oiling. She scanned my clothing, her face set in the same flat expression as every protector in the Empire. But I imagined what she was thinking. Judging by my garb, I didn’t have the status required to make such a demand. But when her eyes reached my face, she paused, confused. My Atal features didn’t match my attire or apparent circumstances.
She set aside her rag and capped the flask of oil. “Under whose authority?”
“Under the authority of the Emperor and his Scions.”
The protector blinked. Given her Function, it was the closest she’d come to looking surprised. “The Emperor speaks through the Ministry and Prime Protector. And the Scions have no authority. Not yet.”
“Emperor Tovmeil is dead, as are eleven of the thirteen Scions. The old hierarchy no longer stands.”
At my words, a pair of guards moved toward the weapon racks on the walls. The woman I was speaking with set down the leather sheath and edged her hand toward the dagger it usually held.
“Who are you to carry such news?” she asked.
I inclined my head, grateful to have steered the conversation correctly. “I am one of the two surviving Scions. Kostan was my birth name. I’ve chosen to keep it as Emperor.”
The woman swallowed. Her fingers crept to the dagger’s hilt.
I’d carried a faint hope that the protectors would immediately recognize my authority as Emperor. If so, they would have been bound to obey my words. But apparently, it wouldn’t be that easy. On to the next plan.
I held my palms forward to show I meant no threat. “It would be a monstrous claim if it weren’t true. I’m not asking you to believe me. I only wish to speak with your duty officer. Let my honesty be judged by someone with a rank matching the seriousness of my assertion. That may mean sending a hawk to the Prime.”
This, at least, made sense to her. With a nod, she headed for the back room. “Wait here,” she said.
After a few moments, a man with three stars embroidered above his protector’s crest emerged. A mid-level rank, no more. He gave me the same inspection the woman had, ending on my face.
“If you weren’t Atal, I would execute you for spreading such rumors about our glorious Emperor.”
“I realize that,” I said. “As I said to your fellow soldier, I am not asking you to believe me. In fact, I’d rather you send a hawk to the Hold. Address the message to your Prime and the Ministry and let them know that I claim to be one of two living Scions. And please tell them I can help find the other Scion. Her name is Vaness, and she’s fled the city for a distant refuge to await Ascension—we feared for our lives after the problems in the Hold. But I’m sure the Ministry will be relieved to know we’ve survived, and they’ll be eager to gather us under their protection once more.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Savra
Storehouses, Steelhold
TUCKED BETWEEN BARRELS of flour outside a storage shed, I closed my eyes and focused yet again. My control of my aura-sight was improving, and I could now sense spirits halfway across the Hold. But I still couldn’t do anything with them. As I slipped my awareness across the top of the wall, looking for a gap between sentries—at this point, I was considering an attempt to climb out of Steelhold and down the sheer cliff—footsteps thumped against the stone alley near my hiding place.
I shrank back into the gap between barrels, flinching when the motion rattled a loose lid.
The footsteps halted. Turned. Heart thudding, I fell into my aura-sight as the guard approached. As his empty gaze arrowed into my hiding place, I made a despe
rate push against his spirit. At once, I felt his attention split and wash over me like water around a rock in a streambed. He gave a grunt of confusion, scanned the wall behind me. Finally, he turned and left the alley.
I sagged against the wall in relief.
Congratulations, Lilik said. Can you repeat it?
Swallowing, I focused on the memory of that deflection. Yes, I said. I think I can.
Good. Then now would be a good time to move. The guard was confused enough that he might return.
I glanced at the sky. The pink of dawn had faded into the clear blue of morning. If I made it through the day, I’d need to figure out the Shadow Gate. Best to start early. Nodding, I stood and slipped out of the alley.
As I slid along the outer walls of buildings, I tracked the auras surrounding me. Staff members moved with gray resignation veined with tendrils of fear, especially when passing the Chasm Gate. Ministers and high-level aides armored their olive-green unease with expressions of assuredness. Mages wore concentration thick about themselves while families of the leadership lounged in their chambers, their auras drab with boredom.
I walked slowly and steadily, focusing on nudging auras and attention away from me. If my footsteps grew too fast, I lost my concentration and my aura-sight faded. Too slow, and I worried my deflection wouldn’t keep attention off of me.
As I moved, I grew more comfortable with my new trick. The Hold was a stream of auras, and I slipped unnoticed through the currents of attention. Gazes washed over me as if I weren’t there. Alley by alley, wall by wall, I made my way toward the Shadow Gate.
Near the entrance to the central courtyard, I paused and peered at the Emperor’s palace. Parveld had said he believed the Emperor was dead. If so, would the palace chambers be empty of auras? If I managed to reconnect with Stormshard, they’d want information about Tovmeil’s status.
A handful of auras moved within the palace walls. Their colors were a mix of the emotions filling the Hold. With no way to know whether one of those glowing spirits belonged to Emperor Tovmeil, I shrugged and moved on.
Ahead, a hawk glided down and alighted on the glove of a handler who stood atop a two-story watch post. The woman held up a strip of meat. The red flesh disappeared into the bird’s wickedly curved beak. Cocking an eye at the nearby perch, the hawk flapped over and settled onto the wooden rod.
As the handler murmured to the bird, her aura pulsed with contentment and affection. Here, at least, was one person who took pleasure in their Function. I wondered whether she was new to the Hold, or if she’d survived the purge through the Chasm Gate. Until arriving in Steelhold, I hadn’t even known that hawk keepers existed. If I were to guess, she was one of the lucky few staff members who would have been too hard to replace.
Still cooing to her bird, the woman untied a burgundy-colored leather string from around the hawk’s leg, freeing a rolled strip of paper. Many of my messages had flown from the Hold in this way, but I’d never seen the hawk keeper work. I pressed myself against the wall to watch.
The hawk keeper dangled the leather tie over the rail of her post. She scanned the street below until catching the attention of the messenger on duty.
“Get word to the ministers and the Prime Protector. Jaliss’s protector post has an urgent message.”
The messenger nodded and raised his hand for her to drop the fluttering note, but the hawk keeper shook her head. “I’ll carry this one by hand. First time I’ve seen them use the burgundy tie. Oh, and fetch the scribe. The protectors will want an immediate response.”
Storms, I thought. Not now. I swallowed and hurried forward. The Shadow Gate was my last hope. Maybe I’d spot something quickly. A weakness. Stormshard believed I could open the gate, and if ever I needed an escape, it was now.
***
Across twenty paces of bare stone, the gate stood closed. Unlike the Sun Gate where we’d entered, there were no bars here. Just a steel plate that was probably as thick as the width of my hand.
Around me, auras swirled. My heart hammered against my ribs. The conversations of servants were a dull hiss. The wind rushing overhead was like the pulse roaring through my ears.
With care, I could divert the attention of people who weren’t actively looking for me. But once the messenger failed to summon me to an audience with the entire Ministry and the Prime Protector? The guards would march through the Hold shoulder to shoulder until someone walked right over me.
Care for some advice? Lilik asked.
My knees wobbled at the sudden words. At this point, I would take any help I could get. I nodded.
Do the unexpected. Answer the summons. Minister Brevt hasn’t raised an alarm. I don’t believe he intends to. Either he enjoys knowing you’re out here, scared with no hope of escape, or he wants something else.
So I should just deliver myself to him?
Unless you can think of a better idea. Your deflection is good, but it’s just a trick. It won’t defeat careful scrutiny. You need more time to learn your abilities.
My palms were clammy. I wiped them on my pants before nodding. Giving a last look at the gate—a protector stood on either side, with one more standing near a lever that was secured by a heavy chain—I turned and headed for the staff dormitory.
***
The messenger, hair tousled above his forehead, cast me such a look of frustration that I blushed in shame. He’d been pacing the entryway to the dormitory when I pushed through the door. I didn’t blame him for hesitating to report me missing to the Ministry—the slightest failure on a servant’s part could mean a plunge into the chasm. I should have thought of that when I’d fled toward the Shadow Gate. My actions affected more than just me.
“Ministry Hall. Hurry,” he said.
I followed on his heels as we trotted back the way I’d come. Within minutes, we crossed into the cool entrance foyer of the Hall. A page was waiting outside a pair of heavy doors. Even with the thick wood blocking sound from the chamber, the raised voices within were enough to make me wince.
The page cast me a pitying glance before tapping on the door. Within a breath, the door flew open, exposing Minister Brevt. The man’s face was stark white, just two spots of purple centered in his cheeks. Immediately, I attempted to throw walls around my mind.
I couldn’t tell if the defense worked. If Minister Brevt tried and failed to assault my thoughts, the attempt didn’t show on his face. Skin tight across cheekbones and chin, he motioned me inside with a gesture as sharp as a sword strike.
My feet clicked against the polished tiles in the Ministry’s audience chamber. Twelve people sat at a long table, eleven ministers and a chainmail-clad woman who had to be the Prime Protector. Minister Brevt stepped to the head of the table.
Unsure what to do, I bowed to the gathering.
“We’re agreed, then?” Minister Brevt asked the collected leaders. “We’ll let the argents have a chance with his mind? We must locate the girl, too, and he is our best lead.”
Another minister shook her head. “I don’t understand why he came to us. Is he really that stupid?”
Minister Brevt scoffed. “Obviously he is. Anyone else care to comment?” he asked, lip twitching. Around the table, gazes dropped. “Good then. Prime, please instruct our scribe in the wording.”
“You’ll pen a missive to the protectors’ post in Jaliss,” the Prime Protector said, turning to address me. Unlike the other guards, her eyes were clear and calculating, not soulless and empty. “It shall read exactly like this: Within two hours, the man posing as a Scion to our glorious Emperor will be presented at the Sun Gate for punishment. Twelve protectors will escort him. None shall speak with him. No harm will come to the impostor. That honor is reserved for Emperor Tovmeil alone.”
Careful to keep all emotion from my face, I nodded. Whoever this impostor was, I felt awful for him. He must be a touch mad to try to pose as a Scion in the first place, and now the ministers had an outlet for their cr
uelty. Or maybe they’d give the impostor over to the Scions to torment.
And I would write the letter that would seal his fate. I pressed my fingernails into my palms. There was little I could do about it—if I refused to write the letter, one of the ministers would do it. Distaste for ink stains on their fingers didn’t mean they couldn’t read or write.
“Where shall I write, madam?” I asked.
The Prime looked to Minister Brevt who gestured at a small desk in the room’s corner. “And be quick,” he said.
Chapter Sixty
Kostan
Ascent trail, Steelhold Spire
CUFFS AND A chain of mundane iron bound my wrists. The steps climbing Steelhold’s spire were too steep for leg irons, so the protectors had left my ankles free. As we marched along the Corridor of Ascent, my guards kept a square formation around me, weapons drawn. From the peepholes in the walls bracketing the street, I heard gasps of surprise.
An Atal taken prisoner and escorted to the Hold. The elites would spread the tale as quickly as the protectors’ blood had spilled in the street. Good.
At the lower gate which closed off the ascent trail, the protector in charge ordered a halt and stalked forward to speak with the gate guards.
“I will not judge you for this,” I said to my escorts while the discussion at the gate continued. “Ignorance is a suitable defense. But if I may say one thing: the coming events will try your loyalty. You must trust your bond with your Emperor. When nothing else makes sense, rely on that simple truth.”
The gate swung open with a squeal, and the head protector nodded to my guards. I’d overheard the message from Steelhold. The protectors were to deliver me to the Sun Gate unharmed. Nonetheless, the guards shoved more roughly than necessary to urge me forward.
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