She bit her lip. Perhaps, at least in part, she was uncomfortable because the revelations had changed things so much. She couldn’t give the Shadraehin this information—couldn’t have Wirr’s plight used against his father, no matter how well-intentioned the Shadows were. She didn’t know what the consequences of withholding the truth from Scyner might be, but that was something she would have to worry about later.
“I still can’t believe Wirr’s your son,” she said after a while, even now bemused at the thought. “Sorry—Torin. It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.”
“I expect it will take him a while, too. Assuming…” Elocien’s expression clouded, and he took a deep breath. “I just hope he’s safe. Not knowing if he escaped, or was captured, or…” He shook his head. “It’s been hard, searching for him without knowing who’s behind all this, and especially doing it without Administration’s knowledge. My resources have been more limited than I’m accustomed to.”
“What are your resources?” asked Asha curiously.
“I have various people… some owe me favors, others are friends who have nothing to do with Administration and are smart enough not to ask questions.” Elocien shrugged. “Here in the palace, there are only three people I trust. They’re the ones I want you to work with.” He stood. “Speaking of which—wait here. I’ll find them and make the introductions. We can go from there.”
Asha paced for a while once Elocien had left, still trying to process the implications of what she’d been told. Even the beauty on show outside the window—the immaculately kept gardens, and beyond, the elegant, clean lines of the city stretching away to the harbor far below—did little to distract her.
After a few minutes the sound of voices outside the door stopped her in midstep. She looked up as the duke entered, followed by three people close to Asha’s age.
Elocien took a seat, gesturing for Asha to do the same. He stared at her intently for a few moments.
“So. These are the people you will be working with,” he said eventually. “Ashalia—this is Kol, Fessi, and Erran. Perhaps the most important people in Ilin Illan right now.”
Asha felt her brow furrow as she turned to the three, all of whom wore the simple clothing of serving folk. Erran she recognized as being the mousy-haired boy from earlier that day, the servant who had been with Elocien in Tol Athian. The one called Kol was enormous, all muscle; even sitting down he managed to loom over everyone else in the room. Still, when he looked at Asha his expression was more anxious than anything else.
The last of them, Fessi, was a girl about Asha’s age, maybe a year older. She had dark, straight hair and a plump figure.
In all, they seemed entirely unremarkable.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Asha politely, knowing her confusion was probably evident on her face.
There was a short, slightly uncomfortable silence, and then Erran gave an awkward cough. “We’re like your friend Davian,” he explained. “We’re Augurs.”
The silence was longer this time as Asha stared between the three and Elocien in disbelief.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. It had to be some sort of trick. It had to be.
Elocien gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes, you do. Erran Read you, back at the Tol. I wouldn’t have risked telling you about Torin or any of this otherwise.”
“Sorry,” said Erran, sounding sincere.
Asha shook her head, perhaps more dazed now than she had been after learning about Wirr. The duke was using Augurs? “But you’re the Northwarden—an Administrator! I thought…” She trailed off.
Elocien’s smile slipped, and he sighed. “You thought that I must want the Augurs dead. I understand. I helped write the Tenets and the Treaty, and I’ve done things in my past I’m not proud of. But I’m trying to make up for that now, Ashalia—particularly with what we are doing here.” He grimaced. “As for the other Administrators, I rein them in where I can. Truly. If I hear about abuses of the Treaty, I punish those responsible as harshly as the law allows. But the types of people who are attracted to the job… well, I’m sure you’ve met enough of them. Let’s just say it is an uphill battle.”
Asha indicated her provisional acceptance of Elocien’s explanation with a bemused nod, turning her attention to the three Augurs. The people she was going to be working with. They were so… young.
Erran glanced sideways at Elocien, who gave him a grim nod.
“You’re not sure whether to believe us,” observed Erran quietly. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
Before Asha could react he took two quick steps forward and placed his hand against her forehead.
The building was quiet.
Asha frowned. Even at this early hour, before dawn, Administration’s main building should have been humming with activity. There were lights flickering cheerfully in the windows, but no movement, no noise.
Something was wrong.
She walked inside, going cold as she saw the body. The young man who had been at the front desk twisted slightly as the breeze swept in the open front door. His face was purple and black, swollen, bloated folds of skin almost hiding the noose around his neck.
Asha touched the sword at her side, bile and unease swirling in her stomach. The motion was mostly for self-reassurance; whoever had done this had done it hours earlier. She headed toward the stairs, feet leaden, the utter silence feeding her dread.
Even after what she’d seen below, she was still unprepared for the sight that met her as she reached the second-floor passageway.
The hallway was lined with bug-eyed corpses, shifting and turning gently in an eerie, slow-motion dance as they hung from the rafters. Some of the distended faces stared blankly at her as she steadied herself against the wall, light-headed for a moment. Eventually she took a deep breath and started through the gauntlet of the dead, wincing whenever she had to push a limp, cold limb out of her path.
Most of the rooms she passed had more of the slowly twisting bodies. Men and women she knew, some little more than children—all of whom had been so eager to take the Oath, to come here and serve. She wondered what they’d thought in those last moments… or if they’d even known what was happening. There were no signs of struggle, no indication that any of them had put up a fight. Not anywhere.
Finally Asha reached her office. Her assistant, Genia, swung listlessly in front of the door. Bile threatened to rise in Asha’s throat again as she remembered asking the young girl to work late the night before.
She looked away, collecting herself before entering.
At first glance her office seemed untouched… until she saw the slip of paper, out of place on the always-tidy desk. A note.
Hands shaking, she picked it up. There was only one word on it.
Stop.
She crumpled the piece of paper and shoved it in her pocket, fear and horror melting away beneath sudden, white-hot rage. She should have known he was responsible for this.
The Shadraehin had gone too far this time.
Asha gasped as the scene faded and the room snapped back into focus.
Erran lowered his hand, giving her an apologetic look before retreating to the other side of the room. She stared at him.
“What was that?” she whispered.
“A memory,” said the duke. “My memory, from not more than a month ago. The Shadraehin’s reaction to our trying to cut off his food supply.”
He watched her expectantly.
Asha stared at him in disbelief for a long few seconds, heart pounding as she suddenly understood.
Erran had Read her at the Tol. They knew.
“How can I believe you?” she asked, trying not to let her hands shake. “How do I know you’re not making this up, or that the Shadraehin was even behind it?” She shook her head. “How could a Shadow, or even a group of Shadows, do what you just showed me?”
“We don’t know, but it happened. Memories aren’t something Erran can create,” the duke repli
ed quietly. “It’s not just that attack, though. Since we first heard of the Shadraehin a year ago, more and more Administrators have been turning up dead. Regular folk, too, sometimes. Each body is left with a note, explaining why the Shadraehin believed they had to die.” He looked her in the eye. “I can show them to you. Or you can read the reports, if you need something further.”
Asha stared at them for a few seconds, stomach churning. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You know the answer. When Erran Read you, he saw your deal with the Shadraehin. But he convinced me that you’d entered into the agreement without understanding the man you were dealing with—that you are, in fact, someone worth trusting.” Elocien shrugged. “That, your history of keeping an Augur’s secret, and the fact you were friends with my son convinced me to let you come this far.”
“And now?”
“Now you know the truth, and you have a choice. Us, or him.” Elocien’s expression was grave. “I’m hoping that after what you just saw, you’re not going to want to have anything more to do with him. I’m hoping that now you know about Torin, about what I’m trying to do for the Gifted, you wouldn’t consider letting the Shadraehin use him as leverage. I’m hoping that my arranging such a prestigious position for you here will give you another avenue to help the Shadows, one that is less violent than the alternative he offers.”
He sighed. “Under better circumstances I would ask you to help me capture him, too, but that isn’t a game I have time to play at the moment. The deal is simple: you stay away from him and his people. You tell them nothing. You have complete loyalty to us.”
Elocien hesitated. “And though your word on that is important, you should also know that Erran will be Reading you if you give it. Any hint of a doubt on your part, and he will erase your memory of everything you’ve been told here. It’s tricky, but I’ve seen him do it before. You’d stay on as Representative, but would remember nothing of this. And you would be shut out of the investigation into the attacks entirely.”
There was silence for a few seconds as Asha gathered her thoughts. Though she didn’t want to believe it, somehow she knew that the duke’s memory was real—that what she’d seen had actually happened. She shuddered as she remembered the eerie crowd of slowly swinging bodies. It wasn’t as if she had experienced it in a detached way, either. She remembered being there. Remembered her disgust, her fury at the Shadraehin.
“You have my word,” she said softly.
Elocien and the others all looked at Erran, who was staring intently at her. There were a few anxious seconds of silence, and then he nodded, giving her the slightest of smiles.
“She means it.”
There was a collective sigh as the tension went out of the room, and Elocien smiled at her. “Then I am glad I took the risk.”
“So is she,” noted Erran.
“Don’t, Erran.” It was Fessi, her tone reproving. “She doesn’t know how to shield herself yet. You’ve done your job. Leave her be.”
“You’d do it if you were able to, Fess,” Erran grumbled, but he kept silent.
On the couch Kol stirred for the first time.
“I cannot say I like this,” he said bluntly, never taking his eyes from Asha. Something about his expression was cautious, almost fearful.
Elocien squinted at him. “It had to happen, Kol. I couldn’t be your Scribe forever. You knew that.”
“But it did not have to be now.” Kol shook his head, clearly angry. “And not with her. How are we supposed to trust her, after she made a deal to spy on you—with the Shadraehin of all people? She may be loyal now, but what is to stop her from changing her mind again?” He held up his hand preemptively as both Elocien and Erran opened their mouths to protest. “I know what you are going to say, and it doesn’t change my mind. In my opinion this puts us all in danger.” With that he rose and walked out the door.
The girl called Fessi stared after him, her face set in a confused frown. “I apologize, Ashalia,” she said, pushing a long wisp of hair from her face. “He’s not usually like this… I don’t know what came over him. We’ll get better acquainted later, I’m sure.” She hurried out the door after Kol.
“I think I know,” murmured Elocien, so quietly that Asha wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear it.
There were a few moments of silence, then Elocien sighed, turning to Asha. “That part didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped,” he admitted. “Don’t worry about Kol—he’s overreacting, but I’m sure he will calm down soon enough. Still… before we go any further, I do need you to swear to me that none of this will leave this room. I’m not just talking about the Shadraehin this time, obviously. Needless to say, if word of what we are doing here got out, it would be disastrous. Not even my brother knows about it.”
Asha hesitated. “And what, exactly, are you doing here? There’s clearly more to this than just trying to find out what happened at Caladel.”
“That’s true,” conceded the duke. “We’re protecting Andarra. The Augurs use their talents to help me inform my advice to the king. It’s saved lives many times.”
Asha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all you use it for?”
Elocien shrugged. “I don’t use it for personal gain, if that’s what you mean.”
“None of us would be doing this if he was,” supplied Erran.
Asha hesitated, then nodded. There was no way to verify any of it, but for now she had no choice but to trust them.
“Very well,” she said. “You have my word that I’ll not speak of this to anyone.”
The Northwarden glanced over at Erran, who studied Asha for a second, then nodded. “She’s nothing if not truthful,” he said cheerfully.
Asha avoided looking in Erran’s direction, suddenly self-conscious. Knowing it was that easy for him to Read her sent a shiver up her spine, regardless of her having nothing to hide.
“So how do I fit into all this?” she asked, still a little dazed at the turn of events.
“Two ways.” Elocien leaned forward. “The most pressing being that I cannot continue to meet with Erran or the other two in secret. As the king’s brother, meeting with anyone privately is cause for speculation. If someone starts to notice I’m regularly going into a Lockroom with people who are, ostensibly, servants”—he paused, shooting Erran an apologetic look—“it will raise some questions.”
“We’ve been getting by with me as Elocien’s manservant,” explained Erran, “but the problem is, I’m not very good at it. People around here tend to notice things like that, and then start wondering what the real reason is that the duke keeps me around. It’s unlikely they’d guess the truth, but too much attention in itself could cause trouble.”
“As Athian’s Representative, you’ll have an excuse to meet with me every few days,” Elocien continued. “Normally that falls to the senior Representative, but I’ll insist it’s you. That shouldn’t raise any questions; given who I am, I doubt anyone will think it amiss that I’m more comfortable with a Shadow than one of the Gifted. In fact, I’ve already started spreading it around that it was me who made Athian send a Shadow as one of their Representatives—a kind of penance for their return.”
“But won’t that draw more attention to me?”
“Yes, but it’s the right kind of attention,” said Elocien. “You’ll be a curiosity for a few days, and then people will… dismiss you, to an extent. If you’re only here because Tol Athian is being punished, they won’t think of you as much of a threat.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I want to be honest about what you should expect. People will ignore you, sneer at you behind your back, perhaps tell you to your face that you shouldn’t be here. I doubt anyone outside of those you’ve already met will be friendly. But nobody will fear you, or watch your movements. And that’s what we need.”
Asha nodded, trying to keep the disappointment from her face.
“So I can meet with you without raising suspicion, and I can talk to the Augurs without anyone noticing,” s
he said. “Is my sole purpose to be passing messages?”
Elocien smiled at that. “Not at all. As Kol so graciously brought up before, the main reason you’re here is to become our Scribe.”
“A Scribe?” Asha knew the word, of course, but Elocien had said it more like a title.
Erran spoke up. “You get to tell Elocien when to panic.”
Elocien grunted at that. “Before the Unseen War, no one was allowed to act on an Augur’s vision unless it had been confirmed,” he explained. “The Augurs weren’t allowed to discuss what they’d Seen with anyone, even amongst themselves—instead they had to write it all down and deliver it to the Scribe, who would then try and find other visions that contained similarities. If two Augurs had Seen the same thing, it was considered confirmation that it was going to happen.”
Asha frowned. “But weren’t the Augurs’ visions supposed to be infallible?” She hesitated, glancing at Erran uncertainly. “Or was it because of what happened to the old Augurs, at the end…”
“No,” Erran rushed to assure her. “Everything we’ve Seen so far has come to pass. Whatever the problem was twenty years ago, it doesn’t seem to be affecting us.”
“Then why wait for confirmation?” asked Asha, puzzled.
“Trust,” said Elocien. “The trust placed in the Augurs was absolute. Without checks and balances, it would have been too easy for someone to abuse their position, to take advantage by claiming to have Seen something that they hadn’t.” He shrugged. “I thought it was important to continue that tradition, even with only three Augurs. I’ve been filling the role, but aside from the difficulties we’ve already discussed, I’m often too busy to wade through every scrap of information I’m brought.”
Erran spoke up. “We tend to have visions about ourselves, our friends or family—often about things that may be important to us, but not necessarily to someone like Elocien,” he explained. “The further removed the events of a vision are from us—in time, distance or personal interest—the more important they seem to be. And those are the visions that other Augurs will also likely See.”
The Shadow of What Was Lost Page 24