“Any of spirit?” Tan asked. Althem had been a spirit shaper, much like Amia. They didn’t know if he had potential toward other elements, but he had been a master with spirit, more skilled than even the First Mother.
“There is one of spirit,” Roine said. “She is small and feisty. She has remained with us in the palace.”
Tan wondered if that was for the best or not. It wasn’t only the people of Ethea who feared spirit shapers. Other shapers did as well. Would confining a spirit shaper to the palace really help other shapers find them less dangerous? Would it help the shaper learn control and skill, so that they didn’t injure others?
Amia sensed his thoughts and nodded. “I’ve worked with her a few times. She boards in the palace not for her protection but because her mother could no longer manage her. She fears the way the girl senses her. It is an ancient way of thinking, a superstition that serves no one.”
Roine nodded. “In that, we agree. That is another thing I would like to speak to you about, Amia, only I didn’t expect to do so now. Since you brought it up…” Zephra touched Roine’s arm, and he shook his head at her. “No, Zephra. In this, I think you’re wrong. We can help the girl learn about shaping, but we don’t know anything about spirit. Amia does. The Aeta do.”
“Theondar, think of what has happened with them already. What they nearly cost us.”
“I have. Without Amia and the other Aeta, we would have lost much more than we have.”
“What would you ask of me?” Amia asked.
Roine turned to her. “Take her to the Aeta. Raise her among people who share her ability. Teach her to use it wisely. If she is never anything more than a senser… well, so be it. But if she learns shaping, then teach her that as well. Raise her to understand the right way shaping spirit should be used.”
Amia nodded without hesitation. “She will be raised as one of the People.” Amia made a point of looking at Zephra. “She will learn to understand the gifts the Great Mother has given. She will use them to help her people.”
Zephra didn’t blink as Amia stared at her. Tan thought they had resolved the issues between them, but did his mother still harbor lingering doubts tied to Amia’s ability to shape spirit? Would he ever manage to convince her that Amia could be fully trusted?
Amia had just as much reason to distrust the rest of the kingdoms. What had the shapers done to help the Aeta? Nothing other than force them to continue to migrate, to move throughout the land. They might offer trade, but there had never been protection offered before now.
“What did you bring me here to show me?” Tan asked.
Roine’s eyes drew tight with concern, the corners wrinkled more than they had been a few months ago. Then, there had been a playfulness to Roine. Since assuming the title of king regent, that had gone, lost like so much else since learning of Althem’s betrayal.
“You said that you wanted to see peace brought to the kingdoms,” Roine said, guiding Tan toward a far wall.
A large map hung there, different than the one hanging in the hall. This depicted the kingdoms only. Nothing beyond the borders was shown. Ethea sat off-center, staggered to the east rather than in the center of the kingdoms. Tan recognized why that would be even if others did not. The founders of the kingdoms, those who first pulled these lands—including Ethea—from the sea, had intended to create another place of convergence. Doing so required sitting at the heart of the land, much like the place of convergence in the mountains had once sat at the center of the land, long before shapers had claimed Vatten and stretches of Ter from the sea.
“Your mother said that we are much alike. In that, I think she is more right than she realized. When I was your age, I thought the same as you. I thought I could bring peace to the kingdoms, that if I wanted it enough, I could shape it into being.” Roine stared at the map, his eyes losing focus. “For years, that’s what I strove for. Even through the Incendin War, I wanted nothing but peace. So much was lost then. Shapers. Warriors. The hope I’d carried to find a lasting peace.” He turned away from the map and caught Tan’s eyes. “You see, when Incendin attacked, others thought to capitalize on a perceived weakness. It was not only Incendin that we had to deal with.”
As he said it, Tan realized what Roine was implying. He remembered stories told to him by his father. Stories that he had thought his father had heard rather than lived firsthand. They detailed Theondar, pushing back an attack by Stinnis. The island nation had sought to claim part of Vatten, coming across the sea by boat, terrorizing the shorelines. Without Roine, the coastal regions of Vatten might have been lost. And then there was the Roke invasion. Roke had long ago been claimed by Chenir, but there was a faction that sought to carve out land of their own, taking from Ter. Without the warriors—without Theondar—they might not have been stopped.
“Why do you think the kingdoms are always under threat of attack, Tannen?” Roine asked gently.
Why couldn’t they find a way to reach a lasting peace, one that didn’t require constant battling? “I don’t know.”
“You do, but you don’t want to admit it to yourself. The kingdoms have always been flush with shapers. More than any other land. Sure, Incendin has fire shapers and Doma has some shapers of their own, but they were never found in the same quantities as the kingdoms.”
“Shaping has become less common even in the kingdoms,” Tan reminded him.
Roine’s face clouded. “Yes, and we still don’t understand why that might be. Having you has been a start. And Althem, even though what he did disgusts me, if even half of these children can learn to shape, then we’re already well on our way to rebuilding the university.” Roine turned back to the map and then made his way down the wall to another.
This showed the lands beyond the kingdoms, with the kingdoms at the center. The map made everything look so small. The kingdoms were there, the separate nations of Vatten, Ter, Nara, and Galen all joined together, but they were small compared to the surrounding lands. Incendin rivaled the kingdoms for size. Chenir, to the north of Incendin, might be small and isolated, but it was nearly the size of Ter. And beyond the sea, the map marked where Par-shon and the Xsa Isles were found, far off the coast of Incendin. Once, that distance would have seemed impossible, but now that Tan knew how to travel by a warrior shaping, it could be traversed in moments.
“You see, we are but a small part of something greater,” Roine said. “All would like the strength our shapers have. Were they able, they would take our shapers, much like Incendin once took Doma shapers, twisting them to serve. We have been kept safe from such a fate in the kingdoms, protected over the years by the barrier, but now that it has fallen…”
Roine took a deep breath, studying the map. “And who is to say what is beyond the sea? Out beyond the reaches of where these maps could go, beyond where even the ancients risked shaping themselves, there could be even more land, other places, equally eager to invade. Such is the way of the world, Tannen. Such is the reason we must remain vigilant.”
He paused to meet Tan’s eyes. There was sadness in the way he stared at Tan openly, his brow creased and his jaw tightly clenched. Roine had stuffed his hands into his pockets while studying the map and now pulled them out, crossing his arms over his chest. “I understand your desire to see peace. I really do. And I know that you have seen more bloodshed and death than any man your age. Few alive have experienced the horrors that you have witnessed and none would have survived, and certainly not with nearly the grace you’ve shown. But even when we stop Par-shon—and we will stop them from attacking the kingdoms—another will come. It might not be Incendin. It might not even be one of these places on this map, but the kingdoms must remain vigilant.”
Tan was silent for a few long moments. He sensed Amia standing behind him, her concern coming clearly through their bond. He could sense his mother watching him, his spirit ability telling him that she watched him with concern that mirrored what Amia felt. And then Roine. As much as he might say the words, buried ben
eath them was a sense of hope, a part of him that refused to believe even what he said.
That was what Tan would have to appeal to. If not now, then when everything was done. It was hope that would see them through, that would give them the chance of success even when everything else seemed lost. If Roine couldn’t find it, then what chance did anyone else?
6
Another Request
Tan sat in the home that he and Amia had shared since coming to Ethea. He needed time to gather his thoughts, and he didn’t know where else to go. Normally, he would go to the lower level of the archives, but it felt empty without Amia with him. At least in the home that he shared with her—had shared with her—he could still feel the effect of her presence.
Flames danced in the hearth, saa drawn to them as it so often was. The window opened to the outside, letting the cool wind blow into the room. An occasional warmer gust fed by Honl and the ashi elemental competed, but for the most part, these lands belonged to ara. When he had more time, he would have to understand the reason the elementals were more powerful in some lands than in others. A nagging sense told him the answer was important.
Tan sat in the chair facing the hearth, the aged and cracked book he’d brought up from the lower level of the archives lying untouched on his lap. He was unable to focus on anything other than what Roine had told him.
Could it really not matter if they stopped Par-shon? Maybe he was right. The kingdoms had dealt with Incendin, and now the threat was Par-shon. What would be next?
He might be destined for more bloodshed, forced to confront the Utu Tonah—everything that he’d seen told him that he would need to do that—but the kingdoms could know peace. He thought of the children, those born out of Althem’s betrayal, and prayed that they would not know the same hardship he had. Already they had the wrong start, born of a father who had used spirit in a way that went against everything the Great Mother intended.
He sighed, staring at the fire. His fear for peace ran deeper than only the shapers who would be impacted. It extended to the elementals, to the draasin, barely returned to this world and already threatened again. Shapers and an ancient fear had nearly destroyed them, but those ancient shapers had been mistaken in how they treated the draasin. The elementals were harnessed, forced to obey the shapers, and treated like little more than livestock. Had the ancients bothered connecting to them, to truly learn from them, there might have been more that the elementals could have done. Perhaps they might even have learned of the fire bond.
Tan studied the way saa danced among the flames, swirling through them, making them move and shimmer. It had a familiarity to it, something he could almost recognize. He inhaled deeply and reached inward, straining for focus, to listen to fire and connect to it. As he did, he felt the connections to fire around him. Saa pulled on him most strongly, but there were other connections, weaker but no less real. Distantly, he was even aware of the draasin and sensed it as Asgar perked up, recognizing when Tan joined the fire bond.
It was almost a physical connection, and so different than the bond that he shared with Asboel. Yet even that wasn’t completely true. Tan could sense Asboel through the fire bond, though differently. His connection to Asboel was born of spirit and fire, binding them more tightly than either alone. Through it, he sensed the great draasin still flying, circling. Hunting. He had not stopped since recovering Asgar. Tan doubted that he would stop until they found the other hatchling. If they found her.
I should be with you.
The sending went unintentionally, but traveled away from him easily, the connection to Asboel strong, making distances nearly insignificant. He sensed it as Asboel shifted his attention toward Tan. This time, it came differently than it had before. More fully connected somehow.
Maelen. You exist in the bond now.
I don’t know what you mean.
You have discovered the fire bond for yourself.
Had I not, I don’t think I could have saved Asgar.
Asboel snorted. Tan had a glimpse of the land beneath him. He saw streaks of red and orange, the land blooming heat so clearly Incendin. Nothing moved below him, though a city stretched into the distance, a city that Asboel made a point to avoid. Tan doubted the hatchling would be in Incendin, but he would not tell Asboel how to hunt. He wouldn’t listen anyway.
Amusement drifted through the bond. You have convinced me before, Maelen. I hunt for food. Then I will return to the search.
I should be with you.
You are needed elsewhere. I will call when I find her.
Tan worried that to find the other hatchling would require them to travel across the sea to Par-shon. Doing so risked everyone, not only Asboel, but Tan and the elementals he was bound to. Even Amia would be in danger. If Par-shon separated him from his bonds, they could assume control of even the connection to Amia. It was the only reason he hesitated; otherwise he would have shaped himself to Par-shon after facing the Utu-Tonah the last time.
Asboel pulled away from the bond. He didn’t sever the connection but simply receded within Tan’s mind, fading to nothing more than another connection. Holding fire as he did, reaching for the connections formed all around him, he felt another blazing presence approaching his door.
Tan stood before the knock came and pulled open the door, expecting Cianna. He hadn’t spoken to her since saving Asgar, and he suspected that she had questions. And he had a request of her. Reaching Incendin alone might be as dangerous as Roine suspected. Having another shaper with him, especially one bound to fire like he was, would provide another layer of safety. Not that Tan really expected to need it. If he managed to reach Cora, he could ask for her help. She understood what he intended, perhaps even more than Roine. Besides, he still wanted to learn more about Lacertin, and she had known him better than anyone.
Seanan stood at the door. He was average height, nearly a hand shorter than Tan, and wiry thin. Unlike Cianna, he had plain brown hair cut short. His gaze darted around the room before settling his gray eyes on Tan. Seanan tipped his head slightly. “Warrior,” he said, infusing the word with respect.
Tan hadn’t seen Seanan much since the lisincend attack on the city. Like Cianna, he was from Nara, but as a fire shaper, he kept himself apart from the other shapers of the university. Fire had always been looked on with skepticism—at least, it had until Tan developed much strength in it. Probably still did, he decided.
“Seanan. What can I do for you?”
Seanan glanced past Tan again and seemed to hesitate. Then he took a deep breath. “I would learn what you know.”
Tan blinked. He wasn’t certain what Seanan would want when he came to the door, but learning wasn’t part of what Tan had anticipated. “You think I can teach you? But you’re a Master!”
Seanan huffed. “And you speak to the draasin. There is much to learn in that, I should think.”
Tan motioned Seanan into the house. The fire shaper hesitated and then entered, pausing and turning in place before taking a chair facing the fire. He stared at the flames, his gray eyes reflecting the light moving in the hearth, making them seem to dance.
Tan settled carefully into his chair. He wanted to help Seanan, but there wasn’t time for him to teach. There were more important things that needed to get done first. Finding the hatchling. Learning a way to forge connections to the elementals. Searching for allies, including Incendin. Tan had not even considered teaching, but he wondered if that was an oversight. Not only had Cianna bonded, but Ferran had managed to reach the elementals. Who else could he guide to them?
“You taught Ferran. I would like to know what he has learned from you,” Seanan said.
Golud bonding to Ferran had surprised Tan, but the earth master had taken an interest in listening for earth, in trying to reach for the elemental. He had maintained an open mind and a willingness to accept that he might never reach the elementals.
Tan studied the fire, wondering what he could say to Seanan. “It’s not just Ferran. You w
ould like a bond like Cianna.”
Seanan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She rides the draasin. It should not have been her chosen. I have been a master far longer than—”
“The draasin choose the bond, as it is with each of the elementals, Seanan.” That wasn’t completely true, but Seanan didn’t need to know how Tan had suggested Cianna to Sashari.
“You speak to them. You could tell them who they must bond. I know there is another—”
“I can suggest, but I can’t tell them who to bond, Seanan,” Tan said, cutting him off again, feeling a rising irritation. If the shapers within the kingdoms couldn’t understand why the elementals couldn’t be forced to bond, how would he expect to convince Par-shon? Stopping Par-shon would require more than simply defeating the Utu-Tonah. It would involve changing elements of their culture. Would they be willing to change so much?
Seanan looked over, a confused frown on his face. “But you speak to them. Isn’t that how it is done? You did not tell golud to bond to Ferran? You did not tell the draasin to bond to Cianna?”
Had he forced the bond? He didn’t think that he had, but what if it really seemed that way? He certainly had asked that golud be willing to listen, but that wasn’t the same as forcing a bond, and certainly nothing like what Par-shon did. And with Cianna, Tan had suggested the bond, recognizing the need, but he had known Cianna well enough that he understood that she would respect the connection. It had been Sashari who had ultimately chosen.
Rather than allowing himself frustration, Tan tried a different tact. “Tell me, Seanan. What do you sense of fire?”
Seanan waved his hand in the air. A trail of smoke drifted from it. The shaping was subtle and skilled and likely more than Tan would even have been able to recognize only a few months ago. Now, fire was nearly as natural to him as wind was to his mother. He could touch it, breathe it, and recognized the way that it intertwined within everything.
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