Jakob shook his head. “There are none remaining. The last passed on what she had to me.”
Therin studied Jakob, and his ahmaean swirled around Jakob once again. “Did you discover walking the fibers on your own, or did you have some assistance?”
“It came as visions. I have flashbacks.”
“And this?”
Jakob shrugged. “As far as I knew, this was another vision. What happened in the city near the river?” He didn’t know enough about what he had seen, or where he had seen it, to know how to describe it any better than that.
“If you are here from another time, then you don’t understand that there has been some disagreement. Not all the damahne agree with what we have chosen to do. Not all feel that we should have devoted so many resources to the Den’eamiin.”
That was the word Jakob had heard before, the one that reminded him of what he had heard from Aimielen in the vision, the one that had shown him the origins of the daneamiin.
“Can you guide me?” Jakob asked.
Therin let out a slow breath. “You are descended from Baylan. He is one who supports the Den’eamiin.”
“So you won’t help me because I’m descended from him?”
“That is not it, but what you ask is complicated. It is difficult for me to assist you, and it is difficult to facilitate what you must learn. If others learn what happened, not all will be pleased that you walk the fibers so completely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And that is the problem. You are here much more completely than you should be. Walking the fibers allows you to observe, but not overtake. What you have done is overwhelming Baylan. It is dangerous for him—and for you—to remain here so completely. You need to learn to glimpse along the fibers, but nothing more than that. Reaching as you have is not appropriate or healthy for either of you.”
“I don’t understand,” Jakob repeated.
Therin laced the fingers of each hand together. “If you remain here for too long, you will begin to emerge. One will become the other. Neither will exist in either place completely. You will be in the wrong time for yourself, and Baylan might be drawn along the fibers, pulled toward your time. That is why you must glimpse only. Had you a guide, you would have known this.”
“Had I a guide, I would not have needed to step back along the fibers to learn what I need to,” Jakob said. The light flickered again.
“Perhaps. I must say, it is unusual even with the damahne of my time for anyone to manage to walk so completely along the fibers. It is possible that the accumulated energy you have acquired, that which has been handed to you over generations, allows this. Even then, that is dangerous. I wonder whether your predecessors should have diluted their ahmaean.”
Jakob suspected they had tried, which was why Brohmin had been given the gift of ahmaean. “You must have something you can tell me that can help prevent this from happening. I need to glimpse along the fibers so I can understand what I am to do, and how to use my abilities.”
“Without a guide, you run the risk of tangling the fibers.” He twisted his fingers together before relaxing them. “That is dangerous to all.”
Jakob shivered. He felt guilty about the fact that he might cause danger to others, and didn’t want to be the one responsible for the damahne having problems with the fibers.
“But without a guide, how will I learn? I don’t cause trouble with the fibers.”
Therin glanced past him, and ahmaean streamed from him, leaving in a flourish as it reached the walls of the Tower, pushing beyond it. As the ahmaean retreated, he turned his attention back to him. “You must go. Baylan needs to reconnect. The longer you remain here, the longer he is drawn away, the more you risk taking some of him with you.”
“Tell me how to glimpse the fibers.”
“There is no trick. You focus on the fibers, you focus on the ahmaean, and you move along it. There is nothing more to it than that.”
Light flickered again, and Therin glanced over before turning back to Jakob.
Jakob opened his mouth to object, but Therin pressed his hand to Jakob’s forehead, and with a surge of ahmaean, he was forced away.
Chapter Eleven
Alriyn sat in his office, a nervous anxiety working through him. Not only had Jostephon escaped, but now Endric claimed Alriyn was needed by the Conclave. He wasn’t sure what the Conclave entailed, or even what it meant for him that they had need of his services, but he had a growing suspicion that they had more influence in the world than he had ever known.
His office felt stuffier than usual. How much of that had to do with the teralin he now possessed, a slender piece that Endric had given him, as well as—surprisingly—what seemed to be a teralin-forged sword? The sword itself was finely made, and appeared to have been created long ago based on the ancient language that was etched along the blade. Novan had used something similar when they’d fought the Deshmahne, and he wondered if it might be the same sword, or possibly its twin.
The rest of his Council had left him. He had made recommendations for how the Magi could prepare for another attack, suspecting that now with Jostephon missing, the city was at risk of another attack occurring. If that happened, Alriyn would see that they were prepared, and he would see that they did not suffer the same as before.
A knock came on his door.
Alriyn looked up from the sword, dragging his gaze away from the blade, and answered the door. Alriyn had expected his guest but thought she would have arrived when he was meeting with the rest of his Council. That she had been delayed troubled him. Was it a message of some sort?
“Alison,” he said.
The chancellor of the university was a distinguished woman, with a good reputation, but he hadn’t known her well over the years. It was unfortunate. The Magi and the scholars of the university both sought many of the same things. Both searched for understanding, and both recognized that there were powers in the world beyond them. Yet, despite that, they had never shared knowledge. Alriyn’s offer would be troubling.
“Eldest,” she said. She dipped her head in the slightest of bows, revealing her gray-streaked hair. She was a slight woman, and her robe was cut to fit, accentuating her figure.
“Thank you for agreeing to come,” Alriyn said.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t certain whether I should. I wasn’t certain whether the offer was genuine. The Magi have never accepted the university scholars as equals.”
“No, and that is a mistake I hope to correct.”
“Is this about the attack on the city?”
She watched him with an earnest expression, but there was a hint of something more buried beneath it. Alriyn couldn’t tell what else she might have gleaned. The university had been injured in it much the same as anyone else in the city. More so, considering the effects the attack had on the first terrace. Many buildings had burned there. Much of that level had been devastated. Alriyn had done what he could to preserve that terrace, but there had been limits.
“What do you know about the attack?” Alriyn asked.
“Is this why you had me come here? Did you think you needed to bring me to the palace simply to question me about my knowledge of the attack on the city?”
“I thought it was time to restore the connection between the university and the Magi,” Alriyn said.
“Restore? That implies that we once had a relationship. The Magi have seen to it that we have nothing more than a passing acknowledgment of one another.”
Alriyn nodded. “And I’m as guilty of that as any. Again, I’m hopeful that can change.”
Alison stood barely one pace inside his office, her hands clasped in front of her, watching him with an unreadable expression. Her eyes shone with a bright intelligence.
She had a reputation as a brilliant scholar and was the kind of ally he would need given what they would have to face, the kind he would need if he were to find Jostephon.
Such a relationship required trust.
A
lriyn had struggled to find a measure of trust with the Magi, and now he needed to find a way to trust those not of the Magi. It needed to start with Alison, someone who would be critical to what he planned.
Alriyn pulled open a drawer in his desk and removed a copy of the mahne. Since the attack, a dozen copies had been made, with more being made every day. Many of the Magi scholars were willing to transcribe what they found, so that others could read the mahne and understand what their ancestors had known. They were secrets the Magi could no longer keep from others.
He slid the text over to Alison. It was his copy, one that he’d made over the years, gradually reproducing, adding in his own notes. As one of the Elders, he probably should not have made a copy before it had been open to anyone, risking the chance that someone else might discover it and somehow use what was written within the pages. Alriyn had taken that chance, mostly because he had wanted to study, and had wanted to understand.
Allowing Alison to look at it was the highest level of trust he could express.
“What is this?”
“I understand that many within the university can speak the ancient language.”
“There are many who have not abandoned their studies,” Alison said. “I’m not sure if you mean anything beyond that.”
“The original is over one thousand years old.”
Alison glanced up, her mouth twisted in a frown. Alriyn would learn how sharp her mind was now. If she made the connection as he expected she would, he would know whether she was the right person to help them.
“One thousand years?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Alison looked down at his copy of the mahne and began flipping through the pages. She read quickly, clearly with more than a passing familiarity with the ancient language. Even those who studied with the Magi struggled to read the ancient language with such speed.
He chuckled to himself. She was everything he had hoped.
They had made a mistake not involving the scholars over the years. If they understood the ancient language that well, it was a terrible mistake, and one Alriyn was happy to move past. He hoped Alison felt the same way.
“I assume the notes on the sides of the pages are yours?” Alison asked.
“They are. I’ve studied this text my entire life. At least, since I was raised to the Council. For my entire life, none outside of the Council of Elders was allowed to see this book.”
“None?”
“It was felt necessary to keep it protected.”
Alison shook her head, snorting. “The Magi have long thought the key to knowledge and understanding was to prevent others from having it. True understanding happens when you work with others. There are times when others might have a different insight, and a different way of looking at things, than what you possess.”
Alriyn sighed. “Yes, I can’t deny that you are right. It’s a mistake I hope to move past.”
“All of this has to do with your Founding?”
“That and mistakes the Magi have made over the years.”
“Such as when you have attempted to choose your Uniter.” Her hand paused in the middle of the book, where Alriyn suspected the commentary about the Uniter began. Had she known ahead of time?
No, that would be unlikely. The only way she would have known would have been if she worked with the Conclave. Endric would have told him were that the case.
“The Uniter has long been a mistake.”
Alison closed the book, resting her hands on top of it. “I can see evidence of this text in decisions made by the Magi over the years. You have long chosen men to fulfill a role. The last that I recall was a man by the name of Brohmin Ulruuy.”
“Yes. The great mistake.”
“Interesting that you would refer to him in such a way. In the university, we have a different view of him.”
Alriyn arched a brow, leaning toward her. At least she was willing to engage him in conversation. He had been concerned whether she would even agree to meet with them, so for her to discuss this cordially meant that perhaps he was closer to finding a common ground with her than he had expected.
“Oh? What term do you have for him?”
“It’s not so much a term as it is an understanding that he served a purpose. He served the ideals of the Urmahne.”
“Once I would have argued with you over that,” Alriyn said.
“What changed?”
“Apparently, I did.” Alriyn sighed. He leaned back in his chair, drawing his arms around him. “I allowed my niece to travel north.”
“The rumors—”
“Are more than rumors,” Alriyn said. “She sent back proof of what she faced.”
“Given the way you make that statement, I suspect what she found was more than simply Deshmahne.”
“Vasha was founded during a time of war. We have long known that our Founders were soldiers, though they were soldiers who abandoned war when they settled in the city. They embraced the Urmahne faith.”
“Because of this book?”
He nodded solemnly, his gaze lingering on the text beneath her hands. “Because of the mahne. The Founders recognized its importance, and recognized that danger would come were they not to fight for peace. That has guided the Magi for over a thousand years.”
“Again, Eldest, what has changed?”
“The Founding occurred following an attack. We now know the attack was waged by creatures called the groeliin. They are horrible creatures. They are creatures only the Magi can see.”
“An interesting dilemma, don’t you think?”
Alriyn frowned. “What dilemma is that?”
“A threat that only the Magi can assist with. It forces a need for the Magi, and forces others to value you, perhaps more than what is deserved.”
“I can tell you the creatures are real.”
“I don’t disbelieve this.”
“Roelle sent proof back. We have—”
“A head.”
He looked up and noted the intensity to her eyes. “You knew.”
Alison dipped her head, the slightest of nods. “The Magi aren’t the only ones connected. When your niece sent back evidence of what they’d encountered, we managed to examine it before it reached the city.”
“And?”
“And we have never seen anything quite like it,” Alison said. It seemed to pain her to admit that fact.
“It was the Deshmahne who attacked the city. And the Eldest, Jostephon Ontain, betrayed the Magi, willingly converting to Deshmahne, and attacked his own kind.”
“So I have heard. I’ve also heard that he is confined in the teralin mines, that somehow the teralin allows a counter to his abilities.”
“It did.”
“Did? What are you saying, Eldest?”
“I’m saying that Jostephon escaped. He must’ve had help, though I don’t know whether it came from the Magi or somewhere else, but he is no longer confined within the mines.”
Alison leaned back, a wry smile coming to her face. “And this is why you’ve summoned me to the palace.”
“Not this. I would have asked to see you, regardless.”
“Yet you waited until after Jostephon escaped. The timing is suspect.”
“I understand the timing was poor, but that doesn’t change my interest in meeting with you, and working with you. That doesn’t change my desire to work with the university, and try to understand what more we can do together. Now, there’s more of an urgency to it.”
“What do you think we can do?”
“I think you have access to things we don’t, resources that we don’t. It’s those resources that we would like to tap into, so that we can find him once more. Jostephon must be captured. He’s dangerous. Powerful. And likely to harm others again.”
“Some would say the same about any of the Magi.”
“This is different.”
“How is it different? The Magi have proven their willingness to ignore what’s taking place around them. Fo
r years, the Magi abandoned the rest of the world, leading to the Deshmahne gaining a foothold. Now that they have—now that another power has begun to threaten you—now you want to emerge from the shadows?”
The criticism was valid, and there was nothing he could do to sway her if she truly believed the Magi had abandoned the people of the world. The Magi had made a mistake, and it was one that Alriyn was acutely aware needed to rectify, and he was doing all he could to do that, but it would take time, and it would take consistency.
Only… It would be more difficult if others felt the same as Alison. It would be more difficult if Alison had converted to the Deshmahne. He didn’t know how many had converted, but suspected it was more than what they knew at first glance. Endric had done everything he could to remove the Deshmahne threat, but there were limits to his influence. The Deshmahne had proven to be insidious, and likely had deeply infiltrated the city.
If he was going to be honest, he needed Alison to be honest as well.
“Did you convert?”
She frowned at him. “What kind of question is—”
“It’s the question that needs to be answered. Did you?”
“Few in the university have the same… faith… as the Magi.”
“That’s no answer.”
“That’s all the answer you need. In order to convert to another religion, one must necessarily have the requisite beliefs. Those who choose the path of the scholars are more agnostic than the Magi or the priests. Both have scholars, and both have an understanding of history and are capable of serious study, but those of us in the university have never found religion of much use.”
“Perhaps you’ve had the right of it all along.”
Alison arched a brow, but Alriyn wasn’t willing to elaborate. No, what he needed now was to know where she stood. Could he persuade her to side with him? Could he gain her trust?
It was time for him to make his proposal. He had asked her to come here, rather than meeting her at the university—as may have been more cordial—to ensure their privacy, especially if he intended to get some answers from her, and gain her trust.
“Chancellor, have you ever been to the Magi library?”
Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4) Page 9