She shivered as she stared at the pages. What must it be like, to See your own death? None of the three had been able to determine any timeline for their visions, though she couldn’t decide whether they would consider that a blessing or a curse.
After a while she filed Kol’s newest vision with the others and locked her desk drawer. She was tired, and it was only a few hours until she had to rise again.
Still, it took her a long time to get to sleep.
* * *
Asha groaned as a hand shook her by the shoulder.
“Go away, Michal,” she mumbled.
“It’s not Michal.”
Asha forced her eyes open. “Erran?” She pulled the sheets a little higher.
The young man gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I did try knocking.”
“That’s all right.” Asha rubbed her face, slowly coming awake. “What time is it?”
“A couple of hours before dawn.” Erran yawned. “A time no living creature should be awake, I know. But your Representative is a harder taskmaster than any of us anticipated.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” Asha shook her head. “Why are you here?”
Erran produced a slip of paper from his pocket that he handed to Asha.
“Nothing urgent,” he reassured her. “This was just the only time I could get it to you. If Representative Alac keeps you this busy, you may be in for more of these late-night disturbances, I’m afraid. It’s not the sort of thing we can just slip under your door.”
Asha nodded. “Of course.”
Erran coughed, then gestured to the door. “I should let you get back to sleep,” he said apologetically. He turned.
“Erran.”
The young man stopped. “Yes?”
“I read the other visions last night. The ones not in the Journal.”
Erran turned, examining her face for a few moments in silence. “You have questions,” he said eventually.
Asha shook her head, remembering what Erran had Seen. “How… how do you deal with it?”
Erran bit his lip. “How long until you need to meet the Representative?”
Asha shrugged. “An hour?”
“Enough time, then. Get dressed. I want to show you something.”
“All right.” When Erran didn’t move, Asha pointedly looked at him, then the door.
“Ah. Sorry.” Erran flushed, then exited.
Asha dressed hurriedly and soon joined Erran outside her room.
“So where are we going?”
Erran shook his head, indicating he didn’t want to say outside a Lockroom. “You’ll see.”
They walked for a few minutes, turning down a series of increasingly bare hallways. This section of the palace was older and evidently less used; before long even the carpet underfoot had given way to hard gray stone, the occasional windows had vanished, and dust was evident everywhere. Only Erran’s torch provided any light.
“The palace backs onto Ilin Tora,” he explained as they walked. “These passages are cut directly into the mountain—like Tol Athian, but made by regular men, not the Builders.”
Asha nodded; the passageways were well made, but the differences were obvious. Suddenly she was reminded of the similar journey she’d made with Jin, and she swallowed. “What’s back here?”
“The old dungeons. Storage rooms.” He shrugged. “Nobody uses this section of the palace any more. Some of the deeper passages collapsed years ago, and given that the space wasn’t needed, the cost of upkeep outweighed the benefits of having it available.”
Asha looked around, a sudden chill making her shiver. The walls here were closer, rough, looming in the shadows cast by the flickering orange torch. “Then why are we here?”
Erran stopped in front of a large, thick-looking oak door with a keyhole symbol above the actual lock, then produced a key from his pocket. Despite the obvious age of the door, the key turned with a well-oiled click, and the door swung open without a sound.
“For this,” said Erran.
Asha stared around in wonder as she entered the vast chamber, more a warehouse than a room. The torchlight didn’t reach the roof, and there was no telling how far back the walls went. Row upon row of shelves stretched out into the darkness, each holding a variety of objects.
“What is this place?”
Erran shut the door. “Administration’s stockpile of ‘dangerous’ Gifted artifacts. Every single thing they’ve confiscated from the schools and the Tols since the beginning of the war.”
Asha stared at him blankly for a few seconds. “These are all Vessels?” she asked in disbelief, gesturing to the vast assortment of objects on the shelves.
“Mostly. There are some books thought too valuable to burn. Plenty of things confiscated for spite rather than because they posed a threat. But if you pick something up, chances are it’s a Vessel.”
Asha shook her head, dazed; given the price Administration put on Vessels, the contents of this room represented hundreds of thousands of gold pieces. Maybe more. “How do you…”
“One of the many benefits to having the head of the Administrators on our side. Aside from Elocien, there’s only one other man who has access—Ionis, Administration’s chief adviser in the palace. He rarely comes down here, though, so we should be safe.”
Asha took a closer look at one of the shelves. The items on it looked innocuous enough. “What do they do?”
“All sorts of things. Administration took anything they thought could be used as weapons, but nearly half were confiscated because the Tols couldn’t give a satisfactory answer as to what they were for. Some fire bursts of energy, plain and simple. Some can blow a hole through ten feet of stone, or put people to sleep, or create illusions.” Erran smiled. “Some allow you to turn invisible.”
Asha paused. “That’s why I didn’t see you come into my room, back at the Tol.” She’d wondered about that a few times since she’d arrived, but other questions had always taken precedence.
“We didn’t want anyone to know we were there until we could talk to you.” Erran moved over to a nearby shelf and picked up a torc. Its shape was similar to the twisting, sinuous one of a Shackle, but this one gleamed silver, not black. “This is what we used. We call it a Veil.”
Asha frowned. “How did Elocien use it, though? He doesn’t have a Reserve.”
“Neither do I.” Erran gave her a crooked smile. “As long as these are filled with Essence beforehand, they’ll work. Without a Reserve to tap into, they last about an hour before the Essence decays.”
Asha frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t have a Reserve?”
“None of us Augurs do.” Erran shrugged. “We can use Essence, but we get it from external sources. We’re not like the Gifted in that respect.”
“Oh.” Suddenly Davian’s struggles with Essence made a lot more sense. The thought, like all those involving Davian, came with a sharp pang of loss. “So… do you have the Mark, then?”
“I don’t—we only get one if we use quite a large amount of Essence at once. Fessi doesn’t have one, either, but Kol got his before we realized what would happen. He has to keep his arm covered all the time now.”
“I see.” Asha stared at the torc in Erran’s hand. She hadn’t missed being Gifted more than at that moment.
Erran bared his forearm, then touched the open end of the torc to it. Immediately the metal twisted, became fluid, melding itself to his skin until his arm was rippling silver in the torchlight.
Then he vanished.
Asha blinked. “Erran?”
“Still here,” came Erran’s voice. Suddenly he was visible again, the silver torc back in his hand. He held it out to her with a grin. “Want to try it?”
Asha hesitated. A part of her did want to—badly—but she knew, deep down, it would just be a disappointment. A hollow echo of what it was like to use Essence. She shook her head.
“Why did you bring me down here?” she asked, looking away.
Erran�
��s smile faded as he saw the expression on her face. Nodding to himself, he moved over a few shelves and located a bound book. He handed it to her silently.
“What’s this?”
“The Journal from before the war.”
Asha stared down at the tome in her hands. “The… Augurs’ Journal?”
“Yes.” Erran gently opened the book for her, then flipped through some pages. “Here. Read some of these.”
Asha did so, her frown deepening as she scanned through the pages of visions. One entry spoke of an earthquake in the south, destroying the city of Prythe. Another described a massive fire in Ilin Illan, with the palace burning to the ground, along with many of the other buildings in the Upper District. A different vision foretold an assassin’s taking Emperor Uphrai’s life, plunging the Eastern Empire into civil war. Each one was long, detailed, and confirmed by other Augurs.
“None of these happened,” she said eventually.
Erran nodded. “You want to know how I deal with what I See?” He gestured to the Journal. “I hope I’m like them. I hope I’m wrong.”
Asha stared at him, then back at the book in her hands. “So the invasion you foresaw…”
“No. Don’t get the wrong idea,” said Erran hurriedly. “Nothing Fessi, Kol, or I have Seen has ever failed to come to pass.” He sighed. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s likely that I’m wrong, Ashalia. We have to assume that everything we See will happen. But… it still gives me hope. And that’s something.”
Asha flipped farther through the book, a little stunned. Her brow furrowed as she came to the end. “There are pages missing,” she said, pointing to some ragged edges near the spine.
“Quite a few,” agreed Erran. “We think whoever recovered the Journal after the Night of Ravens must have taken them before handing it over to Administration. With the Augurs and their Scribe dead, there was no way to know what was in them.”
Asha nodded. She kept looking through the book for a while, then handed it back. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. Erran had been right. Knowing just how wrong the Augurs had been once before… it helped, somehow. Made their visions just a sliver less terrible.
Erran inclined his head. “It’s only right that you have all the facts. You’re as much a part of this as us now. You need to know it’s possible.” He put the Journal back in its position on the shelf, then gestured to the door. “We should head back before Representative Alac comes looking for you.”
Asha gave an absent nod, but her mind was on something else. She stared around at the rows upon rows of Vessels stretching away from them. “The invasion… wouldn’t some of these be able to help against whatever is coming?”
Erran shook his head. “The First Tenet would still prevent the Gifted from using them. Even from charging them, in most cases—it’s still intent to use Essence against non-Gifted.” He sighed. “We thought about it long and hard, believe me. But many need a Reserve to even work, and most of those that don’t still need the mental training to control them. The Veils are an exception—and there’s only three of them. Nearly everything else was designed to be used by the Gifted.”
Asha nodded, disappointed. “Of course.” She hesitated. “One last question before we leave. Who’s Commander Hael?”
Erran’s expression twisted, and he took a few seconds to reply. “I don’t think you would have seen him—he’s only around the palace now and then. He’s in the army, as you’ve probably already deduced. Big man, gray hair, long scar above his left eye?” He gave an uncomfortable shrug once he saw the description wasn’t familiar. “I’ve Read him, a couple of times, just to be sure. He doesn’t even know who I am, and he’s not an especially violent man. So… I have no idea why he would stab me.” He stared at the ground, and Asha could tell he didn’t want to talk about it any further.
“Sorry,” said Asha. “I shouldn’t pry.”
Erran shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve just never talked about it with anyone before.”
“Not even Kol and Fessi?”
“Especially not them.” Erran raised an eyebrow. “We can’t discuss our visions, remember? Otherwise this whole system is pointless.”
“Oh, of course. That… must be hard.” Asha was silent for a moment. “What about Elocien?”
“Elocien?” Erran seemed not to understand what she was asking for a second. Then he gave a short laugh. “To talk to about this sort of thing? No, we never did. It’s just… not the same.” He shuffled his feet, looking impatient. “We really should hurry. The last thing we need is the Representative asking questions about where you were at this time of the morning.”
Asha nodded her agreement. They exited the room, Erran locking the door behind them, and began walking back into the main structure of the palace.
Asha was relieved to see that Michal wasn’t already waiting when they reached her rooms. She said a quick good-bye to Erran, then slipped inside, wondering if there was time for a quick nap before Michal arrived.
She’d barely climbed back into bed when there was a knock on the door.
Muttering to herself, Asha opened the door to find Michal waiting. He looked at her with a pleased expression.
“You’re already up,” he said with an approving smile. “Good to see you’re getting into a routine.”
Asha opened her mouth to correct him, then just gave a resigned nod, falling into step alongside the Elder. “So what are we studying this morning?”
“Something a little more practical, actually.” Michal glanced behind them to make sure no one was listening, then lowered his voice. “There was an interesting piece of news last night—it’s worrying, but it’s also something that could significantly change our position here. Once it becomes public knowledge, we may get more visitors than I can handle. I need to prepare you to meet with some of the minor Houses by yourself.”
Asha frowned, taken aback. “What was the news?”
“An unknown army has been sighted within Andarra’s borders, to the north.” Michal grimaced. “Invasion, from the sounds of it.”
Asha went cold. Michal was still talking, but she didn’t hear whatever he was saying.
The Augurs had been right. The attack on Ilin Illan was coming.
Chapter 23
Wirr couldn’t help but smile as Dezia laughed, admiring the way her deep blue eyes shone when she was enjoying herself.
They were sitting a little way away from the others, within sight of the camp but not so close that anyone could overhear their conversation. Evening was falling, and Taeris had just told them that by his estimate, they were less than a day from reaching Deilannis.
As a result the group was in good spirits. Since the sha’teth had spoken to them ten days earlier, the only trouble they’d encountered had been occasional Desrielite patrols along the road, all of which they had avoided easily enough. Taeris and Nihim were wary because of how straightforward their passage had been—both insisted that the sha’teth would not have given up its pursuit—but their fears had done little to dampen the mood.
Wirr’s own mood was as close to positive as it had been since they had left Thrindar. He still grieved for his friends; he knew he probably would for a long time. But the pain was fading, settling. Becoming bearable. For the first time, he felt as though he was moving forward again.
He glanced across at Davian, smile fading as he wondered whether his friend felt the same way. He hoped so. They’d spoken little of the school in recent times; the days on the road had been long, and there had been few opportunities for truly private conversation.
“You’re worried about him.” Dezia had followed his gaze.
Wirr gave an absent nod. The others knew about what had happened at the school—after a few days of traveling, it had seemed better to just get it all out in the open. Still, despite everyone’s heartfelt sympathies, Dezia was the only one who had managed to make Wirr feel comfortable discussing it. “I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but… I don’t k
now what to say. He’s lost so much.”
“As much as you,” Dezia pointed out quietly.
“No.” Wirr shook his head. “It’s been hard for me, too, but… he’s been at that school all his life. He was a servant there before he ever got the Mark. Those people were my friends, but they were his family.”
And there had been Asha, too. The pain Wirr felt for her loss, he knew Davian felt tenfold. But that wasn’t his grief to share.
Dezia looked at him for a long moment. “You think he blames you.”
“How could he not?” Wirr asked softly. “He says he doesn’t, but it’s my fault.”
“It’s the fault of whoever did it,” Dezia said in gentle rebuke. “Davian’s still grieving, Wirr—you both are. Even I can see that. If he’s not talking much, that’s probably his way of dealing with what he’s going through. Some people just need space. I wouldn’t assume it’s because he’s angry with you.”
Wirr sighed. “I hope you’re right.”
There was silence for a while, though it was a companionable one. Eventually Dezia lay back, gazing up at the stars.
“Was it difficult, when you first went to the school?”
Wirr frowned. “Difficult?”
“Leaving Ilin Illan. Pretending to be someone you’re not.” She raised her head to look at him. “I mean—I’ve spent a lot of time around Karaliene, so I can imagine how people would have treated you in the palace. To go from that to nothing…” She shrugged. “It seems like it would have been a difficult transition.”
Wirr shook his head, feeling a pang of sorrow as he did every time he thought of the school. “Maybe a little, at first—but there were things at Caladel that I never could have had as a prince. Things I hadn’t even imagined growing up in Ilin Illan.”
“Like what?”
“Anonymity. Free time. Real friendship.”
Dezia nodded slowly. “I suppose I can see how you would make that trade,” she conceded. She cocked her head to the side. “Is that why you left with Davian?”
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