“We thought it best to hold off telling her, Nashrel,” interjected Ilseth.
“She was made a Shadow the morning after the attack,” supplied Kasperan, who had been standing to one side, allowing Ilseth to do the talking.
Nashrel rubbed his forehead. “And why was that, exactly?”
Ilseth looked uncomfortable. “That’s another matter we need to discuss, actually. It’s my fault, I’m afraid.” He grimaced. “She… forced me to do it.”
“What?” Asha found herself speaking before anyone else in the room had a chance to react. She took a furious half step toward Ilseth before being bodily restrained by Kasperan. She’d made him do it? It was a lie. It had to be.
Nashrel looked between Asha and Ilseth, expression darkening. “Why in El’s name would she ask for this, Ilseth?”
Ilseth sighed, turning to speak directly to Asha. His tone was gentle, full of regret. “The school at Caladel was attacked, Ashalia. Everyone died—everyone but you.” He paused to let that sink in. “That morning, you woke and saw exactly what we saw: bodies everywhere, murdered in some of the most gruesome ways imaginable. Except unlike us, you didn’t see strangers. They were your friends, your teachers… people you had grown up with. By the time you found us, you were near incoherent with grief and fear.”
Still firmly in Kasperan’s grasp, Asha could feel the other Elder nodding his agreement. She stared at Ilseth, heart pounding, sick to her stomach. It couldn’t be true.
Ilseth continued, “You told me that before running into us, you had gone to your friend’s room, to see if he was alive. A boy who lived in the North Tower.”
Asha’s blood went cold. The Elders had been avoiding telling her what had happened, and this was why. Before Ilseth spoke again, she knew what he was going to say.
“He had died, Ashalia,” said Ilseth softly. “He had died just like the others, and you couldn’t take the memory of seeing it. You… went wild, when I refused to help. You attacked me.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a half-healed burn.
“I felt the blast,” confirmed Kasperan.
“I begged you to wait, but you insisted,” continued Ilseth. “You said you’d just keep attacking me until I did it… and that if I left it too late, if you were stuck with the memories, you’d… well, that you’d kill yourself instead. Without any Shackles available, I didn’t know what else to do.” He was visibly upset at the remembrance. “After that, we thought it best not to tell you until we were here. With only the three of us to watch you, we just… well, we didn’t know how you might react.”
Asha felt tears forming in her eyes. Her knees buckled, and only Kasperan’s grip kept her from collapsing to the floor. A part of her still wanted to protest, to say that she would never have asked to be a Shadow, would never have done the things Ilseth was saying.
Yet Davian was dead. Her friends were dead. She couldn’t imagine that, either.
There was an awkward silence for some time, everyone watching Asha as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Finally Nashrel cleared his throat.
“A difficult situation to be in, Ilseth,” he said quietly. “And your actions under those circumstances are… understandable, I suppose. Still, the girl was not of age and had not failed her Trials; this is not something we can overlook entirely. We shall discuss the appropriate punishment later.”
Ilseth nodded, looking chastised. “I understand.”
Nashrel steepled his fingers together. “The question remains, though: how did Ashalia here survive? You’ve seen all three attack sites, Ilseth. There were no others left alive. Have you any idea as to what made Caladel different?”
Ilseth shook his head. “All I know is that it seems unlikely to be a mistake. Whoever, or whatever, has been carrying out these attacks has been thorough. There must be a reason.” He bit his lip. “I would recommend Ashalia stay at the Tol, for now. Not just because we need to understand why she survived. I feel… I feel like I owe her that much.”
Asha just stared at him, understanding the words but unable to process them. All she could think about was Davian. What it must have been like to find him like that.
“Agreed,” said Nashrel, glancing across at Asha sympathetically. “Ashalia, I’ll have someone show you to your new rooms; one of the Elders will be along later to help you settle in. Ilseth, if you could stay a little longer. There is more we need to discuss.”
“Of course.” Ilseth inclined his head deferentially. A few moments later a man Asha didn’t recognize was taking her by the arm and leading her from the room.
She didn’t resist, didn’t say anything.
All she felt was numbness.
* * *
Asha’s room was far from luxurious, but it was certainly not the cramped stone cell that she had expected.
The walls were carved from the same bleak stone as the hallway outside, but the floor was mostly covered by two large, plain brown rugs. The bed in the corner was small but looked comfortable enough. A desk and chair sat neatly against the far wall; a single Essence-infused bulb hung from the wall, providing a low but steady light. A smaller room to the side contained a basin and other amenities. In all—with the exception of the lack of windows—it could have passed for an Elder’s quarters in Caladel.
“Elder Eilinar has requested that you stay here until you are asked for,” the Gifted who had accompanied her said politely.
Asha just stared at him, not responding. She knew she was being rude, that none of it was this man’s fault, but she didn’t care any more. After a few moments of awkward silence, the Gifted ducked his head and left, closing the door behind him.
The slight mechanical click of a lock followed seconds later. So she was a prisoner, then. She’d had that impression, but no one had said anything specifically, and she was still too dazed—too heartbroken—to ask.
A mirror hung on the wall, and she flinched as she caught a glimpse of herself in it. Jagged black lines spread out like a spiderweb from her eyes, which themselves were sunken, as if she had spent many days without sleep. Her skin, never conducive to tanning at the best of times, was a sickly, pallid hue, as if the color—the life—had been leached out of it.
She looked away. No point dwelling on what could not be changed. Even being a Shadow seemed meaningless now.
She moved over to inspect the desk, surprised to find it well stocked with paper and writing equipment. The pencils here were not made for it, but she would be able to pass the time sketching if she so chose, something she’d often enjoyed back at the school. For some reason the thought reassured her. At the very least, she would not lose her mind to boredom in here.
There was a Decay Clock, too, the Essence within it indicating late afternoon. She couldn’t replenish it once it was depleted, of course; she’d need one of the Gifted to do that for her. But if it was anything like Elder Olin’s Decay Clock back at the school…
Suddenly she couldn’t finish the thought, the wall in her mind that had been holding her emotions in check finally crumbling. Elder Olin was dead. They were dead. Gone, all of them. She would never see them again.
She collapsed on the bed and wept into the pillow. She screamed in pain, in anger, until her throat hurt. Still the ache in her chest was too great, had nowhere to go.
Some time after, exhausted, she slept.
She wasn’t sure how long had passed before a soft knock came at the door. She sat up warily, fully awake, hurriedly wiping her tear-streaked face as the door opened a second later.
She scowled as Ilseth Tenvar walked in.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
The Elder held up his hands. “I have come to apologize.”
Asha blinked. There was silence for a few moments, then she gestured tiredly, her fury draining away to be replaced by a despondent numbness. “Come in.”
Ilseth walked in, looking awkward. He stood in the middle of the room for a few moments, staring at the ground, then cleared his throat.
“I really am sorry,” he said eventually, regret thick in his voice. “I know you don’t remember, but it was madness, that morning. Everyone was terrified, shocked… not thinking straight. I’m not trying to justify what I did,” he added, “but at the time, I felt like I had no choice.” He indicated his burned arm apologetically.
Asha said nothing for a time. A part of her was furious beyond belief at the Elder, didn’t want to believe a word he said. But then, she couldn’t imagine what her reaction would have been… seeing Wirr, Davian…
“Why did you wait until we were in front of the Council to tell me about…” A sudden spurt of emotion choked her words, and she looked away.
Ilseth moved forward, laying his hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t an easy decision,” he said softly. “But if I had told you on the road, what would you have done?”
Asha paused, considering. “I would have wanted to go back,” she admitted.
Ilseth nodded. “I think you would have tried to go back. Or… worse. The three of us by ourselves weren’t equipped to deal with that. And as you can imagine, the Council needed to hear my report as soon as possible. We couldn’t afford any delays.” He rubbed his forehead. “What happened to you was not fair, Ashalia, and I don’t expect your forgiveness. But—please, just know how sorry I am.”
Asha looked away for a moment. She was still angry, still hurting, but sleep had dulled the pain and brought some clarity back to her. She hated what Ilseth had done, and part of her wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him, but the nagging knowledge remained: it was unfair to place the blame entirely at his feet. Not given the circumstances.
“I… accept your apology,” she said stiffly. It hurt to say the words when all she wanted to do was lash out, but venting at Ilseth would only make her position here worse. She needed someone on her side.
Ilseth gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
“And I want to help.” Asha crossed her arms. “You said that there was a reason I was left alive. That I might be a… clue, in what’s been happening. Anything I can do…”
“Of course.” Ilseth nodded. “I’m sure the Council will be seeking your cooperation soon. Until then, though, the smart course of action is to stay here in the Tol. Blend in, keep your head down. The last thing we want is to draw attention.”
Asha frowned. “There’s nothing I can do now? Straight away?”
Ilseth shook his head. “I know it must be hard, but being patient is the best way you can contribute at the moment. Don’t worry, though. You’ll get your opportunity.”
Asha sighed. She didn’t like the answer—but for now, at least, there didn’t seem to be any alternative. “Elder Eilinar said there were other schools that were attacked?” she asked eventually.
Ilseth nodded. “Arris and Dasari. The same as Caladel. But no survivors.”
Asha swallowed. After the war Tol Athian had managed to reestablish only eight schools—one for each region of Andarra—and now, suddenly, the three southernmost ones were completely gone. The thought that someone out there was strong enough to attack, to obliterate well-fortified groups of Gifted was frightening, to say the least. “Do you know if it’s Hunters? Or is it someone else?”
“I have no idea. I wish I did,” said the Elder, sincere regret in his tone. “We will find out who is responsible, though, I promise you that much. And I’ll make sure that if we learn anything new, you are the first to know.”
“What about Administration?” Asha frowned. “Shouldn’t they be looking into it, too? Isn’t their protection of the Gifted supposed to be part of the Treaty?”
“Administration is… conducting its own investigation.” Ilseth’s expression was wry. “The Northwarden himself is heading it up, and our relationship with him is even worse than usual right now. They probably know more than we do—their resources are considerable, and Administrators being killed concerns them greatly, even if protecting the Gifted does not. But if they do find anything, they are not likely to share it with us.”
Asha bit her lip, suddenly hit by a wave of sadness as she thought of Talean. For some reason, when she’d heard about the attack, she had assumed the Administrator would have been spared. “Surely if we offered to work with them, though… I mean, I would be happy to talk to—”
“No.” Ilseth shook his head. “If Administration finds out about you, they will assume the worst—that you’re a conspirator, allowed to live because you had some role in the attack. You’re not protected by the Tenets any more, Ashalia. If they get hold of you, there will be nothing stopping them from trying to extract information any way they see fit.”
Asha paled. “Surely they wouldn’t—”
“They would. Believe me.” Ilseth’s expression was serious. “We’ve gone to great lengths to protect you, to make sure they don’t know there was a survivor. Your name is on Administration’s records as a student from Caladel, so we’ll be organizing a new identity for you. You may have noticed that there was no Administrator present when we spoke to the Council—not even a Scrivener to record the session? As far as Administration or anyone outside the Council is concerned, you will simply be another Shadow who failed her Trials and has come to work at the Tol. If you want to stay safe, make sure you keep it that way.”
Asha frowned, but gave a reluctant nod.
Ilseth took a deep breath. “Speaking of your safety, Elder Eilinar has made you my responsibility. I’ve organized a position for you amongst the other Shadows here, so that you’ll blend in—their work is mostly related to copying out the Tol’s rarer texts, from what I understand. I assume you know how to read and write well enough?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll be by tomorrow morning to take you to the library.” He gestured toward the door. “When you’re not working, you will have free rein of the Tol, though I think—and the Council has agreed—that it is best if you don’t go into Ilin Illan itself. If you were left alive for a reason, then whoever carried out the attack may want you for another purpose. May even have followed us, and know you are here.”
Asha felt a chill run through her. “I won’t go anywhere.”
“Good.” Ilseth glanced at the Decay Clock, then stood. “Now. There are other matters to which I need to attend, but I’ll return in the morning—take you to the library, introduce you, get you settled in.”
“Thank you.”
Ilseth shook his head. “Not at all. I can’t imagine how hard this all must be to take in.” He leaned over and gave her a light, reassuring squeeze on the arm. “The next few days are going to be a bit of an adjustment, so if you need anything—anything at all—please let me know. I want to do everything I can to help.”
He gave Asha a comforting smile and then headed out, closing the door quietly behind him.
She was alone once again.
Chapter 9
Asha rubbed her forehead, trying to focus on the text in front of her.
The library was quiet today, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle another Gifted staring at her with thinly veiled discomfort, or another Administrator treating her like so much dirt.
It had been only a week since she’d arrived at the Tol, and already her life felt… less. Every day was the same. Repetitive, meaningless transcription work in the library. Being ignored by everyone around her. Assurances from Ilseth that the Tol’s investigation was ongoing, but no answers, nor any way for her to help get them.
And above all, the reality of what had happened at the school—the reality of Davian’s death—settling in just a little deeper.
Asha’s vision blurred for a second, and she shook her head, taking a deep breath. She was always tired now; she’d had difficulty sleeping almost every night since being made a Shadow, and arriving at the Tol hadn’t changed that. If anything, it had made things worse. The need to do something—anything—to find out what had happened at Caladel sat in the pit of her stomach, always there, but worse at nights wh
en there was no work to distract her. And it was a need she had no idea how to fulfill.
She looked up as voices approached, cutting through the relative silence of the library.
“I apologize, Administrator Gil. I just don’t know where it is.” It was Raden, one of the dozen or so other Shadows who lived at the Tol. He sounded frightened.
“Look harder.” Gil’s tone was curt, bordering on angry. Only a few rows of shelves separated Asha from Raden and Gil now; she could hear everything they were saying clearly.
“Perhaps if you waited until Haliden returned,” Raden said, a note of panic in his voice. “We’re only in here for transcription, but he’s the librarian—”
“I don’t have time to waste waiting on that El-cursed bleeder,” said Gil coldly. “Fates, I’m not even supposed to be in this El-cursed situation to begin with. So find me the El-cursed book before I lose my temper.”
“But—”
Asha leaped to her feet as there was a crashing sound. She darted along the aisle to see an entire bookshelf had been toppled, with Raden lying helplessly on top, a look of shock on his black-scarred face. The short, squat man in the blue Administrator’s cloak loomed above him.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
The Administrator didn’t take his eyes off Raden. “Nothing that concerns you, girl. Best you stay out of it.”
A flash of anger washed through Asha. “I certainly will not,” she said, stepping closer.
Gil turned and there was a blur of motion; the next thing Asha knew she was on the floor, shaking her head dazedly, tasting blood.
She twisted to stare up at Gil in shock, not quite believing what had just happened.
“You can’t do that,” she said, running her tongue over her split lip. Her astonishment turned quickly to anger. “You can’t just hit—”
“Of course I can. Who’s going to stop me?” Gil replied, tugging his cloak as if to prove the point. His weaselly eyes gazed at her in amusement.
A wave of fury swept over Asha, and she scrambled to her feet.
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