“Lissa. It’s all right.” Raden was only a little older than Asha, but he spoke with the resigned, dolorous heaviness that many of the Shadows she’d met had taken on. As if any life, any joy had been sucked out of him. “It was my fault. Administrator Gil was right to chastise me.”
Asha hesitated, as she still did every time someone used her new name. Then she gaped at Raden, gesturing at the books scattered across the floor. “He attacked you because you couldn’t find the book he wanted. That’s not even your job.”
“It was my fault,” Raden insisted.
“You should listen to him, girl,” said Gil, not even looking in her direction. “You’re fairly new here, so I won’t give you the beating you deserve. Next time, though…”
Asha’s anger flared again; she made to move toward Gil, but a hand on her shoulder restrained her. She turned to see Jin standing behind her, the unofficial leader of the Shadows at the Tol shaking his head in silent warning.
Asha hesitated a moment, then with an effort let her taut muscles relax.
Gil looked up a second later, nodding to himself when he saw she wasn’t protesting. “Good. You’re learning,” he said cheerfully.
Then he noticed Jin, and his face paled a little.
“Administrator Gil,” said Jin with cold politeness.
The blue-cloaked man looked uncertain for a moment, then his face hardened. “You need to get your people into line, Jin,” he snarled.
Jin looked unconcerned. “Did you do this?” He gestured to the fallen bookshelf, then at Asha. “Did you strike Lissa?”
“She tried to interfere—”
“You’re overstepping.” Jin said the words softly, but there was a definite menace to them.
Gil scowled. “I don’t think—”
Jin stepped close to the Administrator, right up to his face so that the height difference between the two was accentuated. Then he leaned down, whispering something in the other man’s ear.
When he’d finished, Gil had gone white as a sheet. He turned back to Raden, looking more sick than angry now. “You’d better make sure Haliden finds me that book as soon as he returns, or… there will be consequences.” His tone was unconvincing this time.
“Of course,” said Raden obsequiously, bobbing his head.
Still looking shaken, Gil left without another word.
Nobody moved until Gil had exited the room. As soon as he was gone, Raden scrambled to his feet and rounded on Asha.
“You’re lucky you didn’t make him angrier,” he said furiously, brushing himself off. “What were you thinking? Acting like that only puts us all in danger, you know.” He turned to Jin. “And you. I know what you said to him, and I want nothing to do with that. I’m not going to—”
“Enough, Raden.” Jin held up his hand. “Lissa has only been here a few days; I did it for her sake, not yours. If he harasses you again, I won’t intervene. You have my word.” He sighed. “You should get cleaned up, and then get back to work.”
Raden muttered something under his breath, but gave a brusque nod and walked away.
Asha stared after him in astonishment. She touched her lip gingerly; it was swollen, but would heal soon enough. “I was just trying to help.”
Jin gave her a rueful look. “I know. A lot of Shadows are just convinced that they’re not worth helping, unfortunately.”
She turned to him. “Isn’t there… something we can do about Gil? Can’t we report him?”
Jin smiled, though there wasn’t much amusement in the expression. He was perhaps thirty, though the black lines across his face made telling his age difficult. Asha thought he would have been handsome before becoming a Shadow; his curly black hair framed strong features and piercing hazel eyes. “To whom? Administration?”
Asha hesitated. Administration wouldn’t lift a finger to even investigate the accusations of a few Shadows. “The Council?”
Jin shook his head. “They’d be sympathetic, of course. To an extent. But they have about as much control over the Administrators as we do.”
Asha gritted her teeth in frustration. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Shadows being treated poorly since she’d started working here—mostly by Administrators, occasionally by the Gifted. It was the first time it had been anything worse than verbal abuse, though. She hadn’t thought that sort of thing would be allowed to happen within the walls of the Tol.
“What did you say to him, to make him leave?” she asked eventually.
Jin hesitated, giving her a considering look.
“I told him you were under the Shadraehin’s protection,” he said. “Have you heard of him?”
Asha shook her head at the unfamiliar name. “No.”
Jin watched her for a long moment, then nodded to himself, gesturing for her to follow him. “There’s something I want to show you. Something I think you will appreciate.” He held up a hand as he saw her questioning glance. “I can’t explain here. Just trust me on this.”
Asha frowned. “Very well,” she said, trying not to sound skeptical.
They left the library and were soon winding their way down several unfamiliar passageways, the flow of red cloaks around them steadily decreasing as they walked farther into the Tol. Finally they entered a short hallway that was entirely abandoned, with only one door at its end. Jin stopped in front of the sturdy-looking oak and, after making sure that there was no one else around, produced a key.
The lock clicked and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a dimly lit staircase spiraling downward.
Asha stared at it. “Where exactly are we going?”
Jin glanced over his shoulder again. “It’s something only a few of us Shadows know about. And we’ll be in trouble if we’re caught going down here, so we should get inside,” he said quickly. He grimaced as he saw the uncertainty on her face. “You want to know why Gil backed off? The answer is down here.”
Asha paused a second longer, then nodded.
Once they were inside the stairwell and the door was locked again behind them, Jin visibly relaxed.
“The lower level has been sealed off, all but abandoned since the war began,” he explained as they started downward. “With so many fewer Gifted around, the Council decided the upkeep was impractical, not to mention unnecessary.”
“So why are we down here?” asked Asha.
“Because this is where the Shadraehin is.” Jin smiled at her dubious expression. “Sorry to be so mysterious, but it’s easier if I just show you.”
Asha shivered as Jin used his key again and they emerged from the first landing of the stairwell. The tunnels on this level were still lit with lines of Essence, but the illumination was dimmer, colder. Closed doors lined the way ahead; there was no dust or grime—the power of the Builders had evidently seen to that—but the corridors still fairly reeked of abandonment. The grim silence was broken only by the echo of their footsteps as they started forward.
They walked for several minutes through a series of dimly lit tunnels; though Jin navigated the twisting passageways with confidence, Asha knew she probably wouldn’t be able to find her way back to the stairwell if she needed to. She had no reason to think Jin meant her ill, but the realization still made her uneasy.
Finally they came to a halt, the way ahead blocked by a large door. Unlike the other doors they’d passed, this one was made from smooth gray steel and looked as if it would be impossibly heavy to open.
Asha squinted. There was something engraved on it in elegant, flowing script:
All that I wanted, I received
All that I dreamed, I achieved
All that I feared, I conquered
All that I hated, I destroyed
All that I loved, I saved
And so I lay down my head, weary with despair
For all that I needed, I lost.
“We call it the Victor’s Lament,” said Jin quietly, following her gaze. “Nobody knows who wrote it or why it’s here, but I always though
t it was appropriate.”
He stepped up to the shining metal and placed his hand against its surface. Nothing happened for a few moments, and then there was a sharp click. The door swung open soundlessly.
Asha gazed in astonishment into the hallway beyond. The walls were darker than those in the Tol, closer to black, though still displaying the effortless smoothness that typified the work of the Builders. There were no lines of Essence here; rather torches lit the passageway at regular intervals, stretching out into the distance for as far as she could see.
Two burly men sitting just inside the door, both Shadows, sprang to attention as it opened. They relaxed only partially when they saw Jin.
“Who’s this?” one of them asked Jin in a suspicious tone, jerking his head toward Asha. “We weren’t expecting anyone new.”
“This is Lissa. I’ll vouch for her,” said Jin.
The two men exchanged a look, then the first one shrugged, stepping aside. “She’s your responsibility until the Shadraehin clears her.”
“That’s fine.” Jin ushered her inside, past the men and down the long passageway. Asha flinched as she heard the steel door boom shut behind her, her sense of unease growing. Wherever they were going, there was no easy way back now.
Finally the tunnel ended, opening out onto a large balcony. Asha stopped short as she emerged into the light, gaping at the scene before her.
The cavern was enormous. The wide stone ledge she was standing on was at least fifty feet above the floor; she could see distant walls to her left and right, but the space stretched back farther than she could make out. The smooth black expanse below was dotted with sturdy-looking structures and people moving between them; everything was illuminated by a warm yellow-white light, bright after the torch-lit passageway.
The men and women below were all Shadows, Asha realized after a moment; the cavern echoed with the sounds of their conversation, their laughter, and the general hubbub of life. There was a row of simple houses off to one side, with several more evidently under construction. Fires dotted the vast floor.
Despite the strangeness of it all, it was the source of the light that held her attention—a massive cylinder that lit the entire space with its gently pulsing glow. As she focused on it, she realized it was a sort of pipeline; the energy within it was rushing upward, an unending torrent of power flowing from floor to ceiling.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” murmured Jin, following her gaze.
She turned to him. “What is it?” She gazed around again, barely believing what she was seeing. “What is this place?”
“This is the Sanctuary,” said Jin, a note of pride in his voice. “Somewhere Shadows can come and be free to go about their lives in peace, away from those who would abuse us. Here people can live without having to be subservient, without fear of Administration or the Gifted. Without having to be less.” He gestured to the pillar of light. “As for that—from what I understand, it powers Tol Athian. The lights, the defenses, all the things the Builders designed. It’s also deadly to anyone who isn’t a Shadow, which is why the Shadraehin chose this place to make a home.”
Asha stared out over the bustling scene below. “It’s remarkable,” she said softly.
Jin gave her a wide, approving smile. “Administration doesn’t think much of it, of course—they think the Shadraehin is gathering a militia of some kind, planning to strike at them somehow. They’re wrong, obviously, but people like Gil don’t know that. Which can be useful, on occasion.” He grinned, then headed for the stairs, beckoning for her to follow. “I’ll make some introductions, show you around. You’ll like the people down here. They’re the ones who still have some spirit left in them… or, in other words, are nothing like the Radens of this world,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
Asha raised an eyebrow, thinking of the conversation back in the Tol. “So Raden knows about the Shadraehin, and wants nothing to do with him? With any of this?”
“He’s not alone, either,” said Jin with a regretful nod. “When people become Shadows… a lot of them just give up, to be honest. Raden and his ilk live miserable lives, and yet they act as if it’s nothing more than they deserve. As if because they get treated like they’re worthless, they really are.” His shrug was resigned. “So rather than seeing the Sanctuary as something positive, they just worry that the Shadraehin is going to stir up the Administrators against us, draw attention, make things harder. And maybe that’s even true—but fates, in my opinion, it’s well worth it.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Asha gazed around in astonishment. Appearances from above hadn’t been deceiving; disregarding the odd setting, there was little to distinguish the scene before her from any other small village in Andarra. Somewhere out of sight, the sound of hammering indicated that construction of some kind was underway. Not all the structures were houses; one appeared to be a school, with several young children listening attentively to a man in threadbare clothes. There was even a building serving as a makeshift tavern.
They were closer to the torrent of Essence now, and Asha craned her neck to look up at it, trying to see where it disappeared into the cavern roof. She could make out the swirling threads of energy distinctly now, crashing together and ripping apart again as they hurtled upward. She felt as though there should have been a thunderous roar emanating from the column, but it was completely silent.
Her gaze traveled downward, and she frowned. Sitting what looked to be only a few feet away from the base of the cylinder was a man, cross-legged, his face hidden by a deep black hood. He was motionless as he stared into the streams of power rushing by.
“What is he doing?” she asked, indicating the man.
Jin’s cheerful expression slipped a little.
“He is… not one of us,” he said slowly. “We don’t know who he is. Sometimes he’s here for days, just staring into the light. Then he’ll be gone for a few days, or a week, or a month. No one ever sees him arrive, and no one sees him leave.” He frowned as he gazed at the motionless man. “The Shadraehin calls him the Watcher. I get the impression the Shadraehin knows more about him than the rest of us, but…” He shrugged.
Asha frowned. “I take it nobody talks to him?”
Jin shook his head. “Nobody can get that close to the light and live. Not even Shadows.” He shuffled his feet. “Whoever—whatever—he is, Lissa, I would stay clear of him.”
Asha nodded, shivering slightly as she tore her gaze from the black-cloaked figure.
They started walking again, and soon the unsettling sight was blocked by a row of well-made houses, all built from stone.
“Got a new one, Jin?”
Asha turned to see a man smiling genially at them. He looked slightly older than Jin—was one of the oldest Shadows she’d ever encountered, then, and probably among the first to fail his Trials after the Treaty was signed. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Parth.”
Asha shook Parth’s hand. “I’m… Lissa,” she said, stumbling over the name only a little this time.
“I had to stop Lissa from attacking an Administrator with her bare hands today,” Jin told Parth with a grin. “I figured she could probably handle seeing this place.”
Parth grinned back as Asha blushed. “Good for you,” he said approvingly. Then he laughed. “Though it’s probably for the best that Jin stopped you. You’re new to being a Shadow, I take it?”
Asha nodded. “It’s been about a month.”
Parth gave her a sympathetic smile. “It gets easier.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Especially when there are those who are willing to help, and somewhere to get away from it all.”
Asha nodded. “I can see that,” she said. “So you decided to live down here?”
Parth shook his head, sobering a little. “Wasn’t really much of a decision. See the boy in the green top, third row from the front?” He pointed toward the group of children in the school. Asha quickly located the child, a curly-haired boy who couldn’t have been older
than four. She nodded.
“That’s my son, Sed.”
Asha’s brow furrowed as she studied Sed, along with all the other children. None of them had marks on their faces. “Being a Shadow isn’t inherited?” she asked eventually.
“Our children are able to survive down here, so we think something must be passed on,” conceded Parth. “Otherwise? Not as far as we, or anyone else, can tell. That’s why we’re here. Administration doesn’t want non-Shadows being raised by Shadows.”
Asha stared at him in disbelief. “But he’s your son.”
Parth gave a resigned shrug. “If you’re a Shadow, and someone—anyone—else isn’t, Administration will do what they believe is in the best interests of the person who isn’t,” he said quietly. “Remember that, and you shouldn’t be surprised by much.”
He sighed, glancing over his shoulder and then turning to Jin. “I have to go and help Feseith, but if you’ve got time before you leave, drop by and see Shana. Maybe you can stay for dinner.” He clapped the other man on the back. “But if not, it was good to see you again. And it was very nice to meet you, Lissa.” He nodded to them both, and then was on his way.
Jin appeared to be on good terms with most of the Sanctuary’s occupants, and they were stopped for several other friendly conversations after that. As Asha heard more stories, she began to understand why these Shadows had taken refuge underground. Many had children in the same situation as Sed. There was a woman who had been working at House Tel’Shan, and had left to escape the too-close attentions of Lord Tel’Shan’s younger son. One man had lost fingers after being attacked on the street by a drunken soldier; he’d been immediately thrown out by his employer, and now could not find work anywhere. A few others were simply looking for relief from the constant hatred of those in the city above, searching for a sense of community.
And yet all of them seemed happy now. Free. Asha watched them as they talked, and found herself more than a little envious.
Time passed; it was hard to tell exactly how much, but Asha suspected it was at least a few hours later when she and Jin found their way to Parth’s house. Parth was still elsewhere, but Shana, his wife, turned out to be a bubbly young woman who immediately insisted they stay for dinner. Soon they were seated in the kitchen, chatting amiably as they waited for Parth to arrive.
The Shadow of What Was Lost Page 11