Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1)

by Lauren Amundson

  “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

  Meena didn’t respond for a moment. She opened and closed her mouth a few times and then went into the hallway and looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. “Listen. There isn’t any time to explain any of this. There is a rumor—myth, really—about someone prophesied to fix The Edge. A book was created that explained how this person could fix The Edge. Eventually the Scholars decided that the risk was too great—”

  “What risk and what prophecy? Did you just read a bunch of your sister’s goblin stories?”

  “They tried to destroy the book, but the Prophecy was too strong, and the book wound too tightly in it. The closest they could come was to blank out the pages of the book and hide it.”

  “But obviously the pages aren’t blank,” I retorted.

  “That’s the thing… I can’t see any symbols on these pages,” she said.

  “Maybe we should ask Nazarie?”

  “You can’t do that. She’s an Initiate.”

  “She’s my aunt.”

  “Your Apparition said no Initiates; do you think it’s coincidental? Any of this?”

  “What is this myth? Why haven’t I heard it before?”

  “Because, until I saw this book, I thought it was simply a story that my father would tell.” Meena’s eyes were wide with excitement. “But this must be a sign.”

  “I’m going to go ask Nazarie,” I said.

  “I’m sure that Nazarie has nothing to do with this, but whoever wanted this book is willing to kill in order to get their hands on it. The safest thing for her is to remain ignorant, or she will end up like Shezdon.”

  “If this book does explain how to fix The Edge, why would anyone try to suppress it?”

  Meena sucked on her lower lip, deep in thought.

  “And what could politics and The Edge have in common?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but you need to hide that book. And I can help.”

  That I didn’t doubt—she’d learned many legally questionable business practices at her father’s knee. What exactly, we never went into detail about, but her father had gone from a poor boy fresh from the country to one of the wealthiest merchants in the city. He never hurt good people, but he did know how to negotiate with all levels of society.

  “Didn’t your father tell you to keep your head down? I don’t want to put you at risk.”

  “I don’t think they will suspect Apprentices. What about hiding the book in the library? Hide it in plain sight,” she suggested.

  “No, it should be somewhere that Shezdon wouldn’t have hidden it,” I responded. “If people are trying to find the book, that’s where they would look first.”

  “Right.” She exhaled slowly. “I have an idea. There is a contact of my father’s who can help keep this safe. He is very discreet. No one will think that Shezdon would have taken it outside the Keep.”

  “Meena, that’s really dangerous. If you got caught...”

  “I’ve smuggled worse than this.” Rumor had it that, on her eleventh birthday, she started smuggling contraband into the Keep for some of the guard, in order to gain their allegiance for her father, and she has been doing it on and off ever since. I never wanted to know the details, but supposedly it had been her idea.

  “Hailey,” she said after a moment. “I’m doing it for Shezdon. He was my mentor, too.”

  I agreed grudgingly and handed her the book. “I don’t like keeping this from Nazarie, but you are right, it would be too dangerous for her.” For a moment, I pulled it closer toward me, but it would be safer with Meena. “Fine. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  She put the book under her shawl and headed to the door. “Meena?”

  She turned back and looked at me.

  “Thanks.”

  # # #

  I walked around the rest of the day in a haze. I hated hiding this from Nazarie. It made me feel sick. She’d been twice accused in less than twelve hours. Once by the prince, and once by Shezdon hours before he died. Maybe Prince Jaysen’s informant wasn’t really an informant, but someone planting false suspicions. But--short of warning Nazarie--there was nothing I could do. And the only way to warn her would be to tell her the whole truth about the book, and thus putting her in possible danger. I had two choices: honor Shezdon’s last wish or warn Nazarie that people whispered against her.

  There was to be no formal investigation. The queen supported Nazarie’s conclusions, agreeing Shezdon had died of old age. In all fairness, it’s not surprising for a seventy-year-old to die in his sleep. And he’d made me promise not to tell, no matter what happened to him. He must have known.

  Whenever my mind found itself without an activity, I’d think of Shezdon and tears would choke the back of my throat. I tried hard to stay busy. I would have plenty of opportunities to confide in Nazarie in the future. Today, I would keep Shezdon’s secret. It would be my way of honoring him.

  Eventually, I couldn’t push off ending the day and returned to my room. I opened my door to discover that everything in my room had been torn apart. Dresser shelves were pulled out and clothes were scattered. Papers and binders were strewn about the room. Obviously, someone thought that Shezdon had given me the book, but I couldn't imagine why anyone would think that he had.

  After taking a few breaths to compose myself and stop shaking, I walked across the common room to Meena’s room as calmly as I could. When she answered the door, I didn’t say anything, just motioned with my head that she needed to follow me, which she did.

  When she saw my papers, books, and clothes jumbled chaotically around my room, a mixture of fear and surprised darted across her face, but then she started to laugh. “Your students are crazy! Which do you think it was?”

  “What!” I could feel my jaw drop. How could she think that little kids did this?

  “Well, at least you know that you’ll be missed,” she prattled. Comprehension took a moment, but then it dawned on me. If I acted like I had something to hide, I would seem guilty. If someone had torn my room apart, I was being watched just like Shezdon had been. I had better not give them anything to confirm their suspicions.

  “Right,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “You should probably report it in case it happens to another teacher.”

  “But it’s obviously not students.”

  “Report it,” she repeated. “Write your aunt. She’s the Lead Scholar. Tell her that you think a student did this. You don’t want her to look into it, but in case it happens to another teacher, you want it noted.”

  And then I understood. This way, I’d be playing along. I wrote to Nazarie, hating that I was lying to her. I don’t think that I’d ever lied to her before, but the less she knew the safer she would be, and in turn, the safer both Meena and I would be.

  Chapter 5

  “Meena, we have to figure out what happened.” I burst into her room late the next day. “Whoever killed Shezdon must be who is behind the prince’s conspiracy theory.”

  “Guardians’ balls!” Annoyance dripped from her voice. She peered out into the hallway. “Keep it down, will you?”

  “Don’t say that,” I sighed, “and nobody’s there.”

  “That you know of.” She returned to her books scattered across her bed. She sat down; legs folded under her body, then wove a soundproof net. “You didn’t want to be a Warrior, and now you want to be an investigator?”

  “I want to prove that Nazarie isn’t behind a conspiracy.”

  Meena pulled her hair back into a ponytail and sighed. “What exactly do you think I can do that the guards haven’t already done?”

  “Ask your father’s friends.”

  “What if you don’t like the answers?”

  “Nazarie is not guilty. She wouldn’t be involved with the murder of a fellow Scholar.”

  “Knowledge comes with responsibility,” she warned.

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not trying
to patronize you. I’m trying to keep you safe. Some knowledge is dangerous.”

  “You’ve already done so much by helping with the book. I understand if you can’t do anymore. It is dangerous. Shezdon was my mentor. This isn’t your fight.”

  “Of course I will help you. You’d likely get yourself killed.”

  I plopped down next to her on the bed and threw my arms around her. “You’re the best.”

  “I’ve got a meeting with a friend of my father’s, the man who agreed to safeguard the book.”

  “You were already looking into it?”

  “I want to see Shezdon’s murderer brought to justice.” Her voice was harder than I’d ever heard it before. “He might not have been my mentor, but I knew him to be a good man.”

  “He was,” I agreed softly.

  “Let’s meet in an hour at the practice yard. Where we are going, you’ll want your daggers. Let’s spar first, so no one wonders why we are armed.” She dropped the soundproof net.

  I closed her door and sank into the nearest sofa in the common room. I pulled my knees up to my chest and gazed at the burned-up bits of wood in the fireplace. Meena’s words echoed in my ears. Bring my daggers? Where in the gods’ universe was she taking me?

  I stood up. I didn’t want Meena to see me terrified and huddled in a little ball. She might change her mind and refuse to let me come with her to where ever she was taking me. I changed from my dress into my leggings, boots, and one of my cap-sleeved tunics. I tucked my daggers into their slots in my boots and retrieved the throwing stars that Nazarie had given me for the spring solstice. I attached them to my belt, threw my black travel cloak over my shoulders and pulled up the hood. With that, I set off for the practice field. On the way, I saw Nazarie in a heated conversation with Adine, the Dybreakean ambassador.

  “Ah, there you are, my sweet. Looking quite the warrior today,” Adine remarked as I drew nearer.

  “Don’t call me that.” I lowered my hood.

  “Warrior or sweet?” he asked.

  Nazarie’s eyes narrowed. “You two know each other?”

  “We’ve been introduced,” I said dryly.

  “You’ve not told your aunt about the job offer?” Adine asked.

  “Job offer?” Nazarie folded her arms.

  “Some of the first years are taking Shezdon’s death very hard. I’ve been busy.”

  “I love that dedication,” Adine declared. “That’s why we’ve offered her the opportunity to start her own Scholar Academy in Dybreakea.”

  “Dybreakea?” Nazarie repeated.

  “Either before or instead of her Warrior Journeyman Year. The prince himself has promised to get her an honorable discharge from the Warriors’ services,” Adine clarified.

  “I have duties to fulfill in Gryshelm.”

  “If they can be removed, are they really your duties?” He bowed. “I will see you ladies again. At least think about it, Hailey.”

  “Dybreakea?” Nazarie said again. “I thought he was poking around where he didn’t belong. I didn’t realize he really was looking for you. Foreigners.” She shook her head.

  I threw my arms in the air. “What should I do?”

  “If you have the crown’s blessing, then you have mine.” She put her arm around me. “Whatever you do, I’ll support you a hundred and fifty percent.”

  “You’d prefer me to go with Altis.”

  “I want you to be happy,” she said. The knowledge of Shezdon’s book weighed on my mind. I was a horrid niece. Nazarie pulled me to her. “I’m sorry that we fought earlier.”

  “Are you sure you won’t be disappointed in me if I go to Dybreakea.”

  She sighed. “I do think that you can add logic to the Warriors. They desperately need logic. But, if you feel like this is your path, I’ll understand.”

  “I want you to be proud of me.”

  “I already am,” she assured me. “Have dinner with me tonight?” Her hand brushed my shoulder, but Shezdon’s secret pierced the familiar closeness.

  “I promised Meena.” I lied, sort of. I did promise to meet with Meena. Horrid, horrid niece.

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  “Tomorrow,” I promised.

  I trudged the rest of the way to the practice field. Curiously, a raucous group encircled the practice ring shouting taunts and jeers. It appeared as if every Warrior not out on deployment was here. I pushed through the crowd to see what was going on. To my great displeasure, Altis was what the fuss was about. Eight other warriors formed a circle around him. He blocked and parried each in turn. As his sword, blunted by a Mist barrier, slashed an opponent, he or she would leave the circle and a new challenger would enter with the weapon of his or her choice.

  I knew the game. I’d not played it since I was a novice Apprentice, before I’d chosen my Track. The winner was the one remaining after all the others had been defeated. All the players could fight anyone they wished. It was intended to be everyone for him-or-herself, but the whole group ganged up on Altis in an unofficial and temporary truce. And other than any Fortifications already Woven into the blades, the fight was to be fully mundane. No Lightning Balls or any other use of the Mist.

  I’d heard Altis was good, but I’d never actually seen him dance the Patterns of the Warriors before. Begrudgingly, I appreciated the beauty of his form. His movements appeared effortless. In contrast, his sparring partners labored trying and failing to keep up with him. Emotion did not cross his face. I wondered if he even saw those he fought or if he had entered some sort of trance.

  Meena entered the circle, bearing twin daggers nearly identical to my own, although not nearly as Mist-Fortified. The blades were barely longer than her forearm. The right one was slightly longer than the left and had one thick spike parallel to the blade near the hilt, useful if one wanted to trap the opponent’s blade.

  She blocked each thrust Altis hurled her direction, but she did not attempt an offense. One by one, those more daring lunged, and Altis took them out. No fancy or extraneous movements littered Altis’s form, but some of his opponents more than made up for it. One man twirled through the air while slashing backhanded as if to catch Altis unaware. While thrusting to the left at another combatant, Altis kicked the man in midair.

  The line began to dwindle, but Meena remained in the circle, marginally inconspicuous as she did not attack or draw attention. Altis had bigger more aggressive fish to fry. Once only six remained, Altis seemed to realize that Meena had been in the circle a very long time. He tried to provoke her, but the other five goaded him, forcing him to defend and then snuff out their annoying advances.

  Four remained, then three, then only Meena and one other, a youngish Warrior who had been in the circle almost as long as Meena. Both Altis and the other warrior turned their attention to Meena, now that she could no longer evade and hide. She deflected Altis’s long blade with her right dagger and simultaneously slashed with the left at the other Warrior, attempting to trap his rapier with the tooth of her blade-breaker. The blow with Altis’s long blade threw Meena’s right blade from her grasp, but she quickly threw her effort toward snaking her other blade around the young Warrior. He evaded and parried several quick attacks. Then Altis slashed, and Meena didn’t have the time to react. She was out. Then, in less time than I could blink, Altis had back-slashed and the other Warrior had lost as well.

  “Not bad.” I patted Meena on the back.

  “That was a bit dodgy,” one of the Warriors complained. “You shouldn’t be in the circle if you don’t intend to fight.”

  “Sometimes the best position is one that allows you to outlast your opponent. By the rules of the game, she beat you,” Altis remarked to the Weaver. Three attendants carrying a large bucket of water shuffled over to Altis. One handed him a glass. He dunked it in the water, and then dumped it over his head. He turned to Meena. “Good show, Ardile. We’ve got quite the pair of not-so-scholarly Scholars here.”

  “Thank you, Lead Initiate,” Meena bowed sli
ghtly, “I’ll work more on cultivating my Scholarly attitude.”

  Altis smirked and joined the gaggle of Warriors.

  Meena turned to her friend. “Sorry, Hailey. I know I said that we could duel, but I’m pretty wiped, and that took a bit longer than I was expecting. You want to head into town?”

  “After that quite amazing display, I’d be embarrassed to try, anyway.”

  We talked about mundane topics on our walk to wherever Meena was taking me. Whenever I tried to ask about our destination, she just smiled and said that it would ruin the surprise. As we walked, I had less of an idea of where we were heading. I had never been to this part of the city. The lanes were ancient and narrow, too narrow to admit carriages. Battered buildings pockmarked by broken bricks huddled in rows. Dirty children roamed in packs. People would eye Meena and give us a wide berth. The whole area stank of rotting meat and waste. I knew poverty existed, but I’d never seen it like this before. The building we entered was bluish-grey with a bright red door. “Red is the color of the guild,” Meena said as she pushed open the door.

  “What guild?” I asked, but Meena didn’t answer.

  The inside of the building was significantly more kept than the outside, but that wasn’t hard. Scratched wood covered the floors. Long tables filled the cavernous room. A couple groups of rowdy patrons spoke loudly amongst themselves. A long bar was nestled beneath stairs along the right side of the room. A man stood in front of the bar, resting an elbow on its wooden surface.

  “I’m here to see Lazurte,” Meena said to the man at the bar.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asked.

  “A friend. Now get Lazurte.”

  “I’m busy.”

  Meena grabbed his thumb, pulling it backward like a handle. “Don’t make me tell you again or I’ll use the Mist.” The promise of danger in whisper sounded nothing like her normal voice. The room became hushed as everyone stopped their conversations to watch what was transpiring.

  Yelping, he slammed his free fist against the wooden bar. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t realize who you were.” His back arched in pain as Meena pulled his thumb back a little further. Meena thrust him aside.