“Again, how?”
Jerrain gestured toward the sun mosaic impatiently. “As I’m certain you heard earlier, we can use the Tapestry to create channels for the ley to follow.”
“We already have ley lines leading directly to Tumbor.”
“Ah, but you don’t have reservoirs in Tumbor anymore, do you? All the nodes and junctions and pits are locked away inside the distortion now. We can create reservoirs here at the Needle where you can store the ley until you need it. We can connect the reservoirs with channels, so that your Wielders can shift it to where it would be most useful. Otherwise, you’re taking ley from Erenthrall, directing it to the Needle, then immediately directing it to Tumbor. That’s a complex system, requiring the undivided attention of Wielders here at the Needle to redirect the flow. Reservoirs here would help regulate it. It’s all about control and ease of movement, so your Wielders can focus on healing, not holding the ley in check.”
Kara considered in silence, the two mentors and Cory watching her with various degrees of anticipation and eagerness.
“It could work,” she said finally, “but not if you can’t control your channels better than the single block I saw here today.”
Jerrain waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure out how to set the weave permanently. Not a problem.”
“And as Jerrain mentioned, the ley is much lighter than a person,” Hernande added. “The strain on us and our students should be significantly less.”
“You think,” Kara said pointedly. “We’ll have to test that out to see if it’s true.”
All three of the men nodded. “Of course.” They seemed inordinately pleased with themselves. She hated to disappoint them.
“That doesn’t help solve the real problem, however.”
They all stilled.
“And what is that?” Hernande asked.
“Power.” She began pacing before them. “I don’t think the amount of ley we have here at the Needle—or waiting beneath Erenthrall—is enough to heal the distortion over Tumbor. It’s not a matter of the amount of ley we have, it’s a matter of how concentrated it is. The original Nexus in Erenthrall and the one here at the Needle were designed to augment the power of the ley. The crystals reflect and refract the ley back and forth upon itself, honing it, refining it into a purer form. It’s less diffuse when it leaves the Nexus, more concentrated. We have six panes here at the Needle. From what Marcus tells me, in Erenthrall there were hundreds. After stabilizing the ley lines, I’ve spent all my time attempting to find a better configuration of these six panes, one that will somehow generate more power. We’ve succeeded, to an extent. But it’s still not enough to heal Tumbor. At least, not enough for me to take the risk of collapsing the distortion and losing Tumbor altogether. What you’re suggesting will free up Wielders . . . but that doesn’t help produce more power.”
She halted. No one spoke. Cory had hung his head. He, at least, already knew what had been keeping her awake at night and driving her into exhaustion.
“Are you saying that the distortion can’t be healed?” Jerrain asked.
“No. It can be healed. We simply need to find a way to configure the crystals to generate more power.”
“And now Dalton has issued his challenge with this vision.” Hernande had begun chewing on the end of his beard. “He’s forced you into a time constraint. His followers won’t wait forever.”
“Exactly.”
Hernande bowed his head. “When I was at the Nexus last time, you were attempting to hold the panes without Wielder intervention because the strain of keeping them in place was too much for the Wielders to handle on a constant basis.”
“If the configuration is natural, then the crystals will mostly stay in position. They only need to be adjusted occasionally due to drift. But if we want them in an unnatural position, they must be constantly held in place or they begin to rotate out of control.”
“Do some of these ‘unnatural’ configurations yield more power?”
“Yes.”
Hernande turned to Jerrain. “We should be able to hold the panes in place using the same technique we use to create the channels.”
“We’d have to figure out how to set them permanently, then.”
Hernande straightened and focused on Kara. “You figure out what configuration you want for the crystals. We’ll figure out how to hold it in place.”
“I need to speak to Father,” Dierdre stated for the third time, her arms now crossed over her chest, her back ramrod straight. “It’s important.”
The enforcers guarding Father Dalton’s rooms—his prison, Dierdre thought—remained unmoved. “We have strict orders not to let anyone in to see him, not you or our Second, Darius.”
Dierdre’s eyes narrowed, but she could tell that none of the enforcers were going to contradict their orders. Obviously, none of them were sympathetic to the Kormanley.
Disgusted, she spun on her heel and stamped down the hall, turning the corner with a swirl of her skirt.
By the time she’d reached the rooms she shared with Marcus, she’d calmed down somewhat. Moving to the sideboard where they kept some small essentials, she tapped the ley heating stone and set about making a cup of tea, her mind mulling over Father’s prophecy and its potential ramifications, circling constantly back to her worries over Father and the fact that she couldn’t speak to him. Had he had any additional visions to clarify the prophecy? Was he being treated well, given food and drink?
Was he even still alive?
The knife she was using to cut a few slices of bread from a loaf halted mid-motion as she stilled and looked up, staring unseeing at the stone wall before her. But then she shook off the sudden horror of the thought. “They wouldn’t have killed him,” she muttered to herself as she buttered the bread and bit into it. “Kara would never allow it.”
“Kara would never allow what?” Marcus asked as he came through the open door.
Dierdre jumped, choking on her bread. “What are you doing here?” she spat as she covered her mouth with one hand and coughed, bread crumbs flying.
Marcus crossed the room instantly, beating her on the back to help with the choking. “Are you all right?”
Dierdre sucked in a deep breath and straightened, pushing aside Marcus’ concerned attempts to help. “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice weak, her eyes watery.
Marcus grabbed a glass and poured her some water, handing it over. She drank it down in one long gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her chest still hurt, and she was certain she’d breathed a chunk of bread into her lungs. “You startled me.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
She bit back a sharp retort, remembering her intent to seduce him back to her side.
She tested the kettle on the stove and began spooning tea leaves into an infuser. “Why are you here?” she asked again as she poured herself a cup and dipped the rounded infuser into the hot water to steep. “I thought you’d be down in the node.” She tried to keep the accusatory note out of her voice, but failed.
If Marcus noticed, he didn’t react.
“Kara was away this morning. She went to the wall with Ty to review the repairs on the breach, among other things. Without her there, we can’t do much more than maintain the crystals in their current positions.”
Dierdre leaned back against the sideboard, tea in one hand. “Why not?”
Marcus settled into a chair at the small table for two against the opposite wall. Their bed rested beneath the window overlooking the stellae garden and Needle at the center of the temple, the sheets still rumpled from the night before.
“No one dares mess with the configuration unless Kara is there to restore it if something goes wrong,” he explained, dropping his head onto the table with a weary sigh. “It’s one of the reasons she’s constantly at the node.”
Dierdr
e set her cup aside and drifted across the room, settling in behind him, her hands finding his shoulders, digging into the tensed muscles there. He groaned as she massaged the knots out. “She isn’t the only one being driven to exhaustion,” she muttered. “You’ve been there as much as she has.”
Marcus mumbled something noncommittal she didn’t catch.
“But why can’t you adjust the crystals on your own?” she prodded. “Won’t she allow it?”
Marcus lifted his head and leaned back into her, head resting beneath her breasts, his eyes closed. Her fingers shifted slightly forward, digging into the tops of his shoulders.
“She hasn’t said anything about it one way or the other.”
“So everyone is simply afraid.”
“Of course we’re afraid. Don’t you remember what happened during the Gorrani attack? Or the Shattering, for that matter. One mistake and the crystals could collapse. The resulting quakes as the ley shifts could destroy us. Not to mention potentially trigger another Shattering.”
She slapped him lightly on the cheek with one hand, leaning in close. “I didn’t mean afraid of the ley. I meant they’re afraid of her. Of Kara.”
Marcus stiffened beneath her hands, but when she continued the massage without further comment, the new tension slowly eased.
“I suppose they are. She did save us all during the attack. And healed the distortion over Erenthrall. They know that none of us could have done it alone.”
Dierdre frowned, knowing Marcus couldn’t see her. She wanted to point out—again—that Kara hadn’t done it alone, that the others had supported her, but she knew that argument wouldn’t sway Marcus at all.
Instead, she asked, “So why doesn’t she heal the distortion over Tumbor as well?”
“Kara claims that the Nexus isn’t strong enough to support the power needed. Not in its current configuration. She’s trying to find a stronger arrangement of the crystals.”
Dierdre stilled. “So she’s not ready yet.” Or she’s afraid.
Marcus stirred beneath her and she realized she’d halted the massage. She dug her fingers in deeper and he settled back down.
“We’re not ready yet,” he said, exhaling as he let his entire body relax. “She keeps trying new orientations, new placements, but the crystals either won’t hold position or the new configuration reduces the augmentation of the ley’s flow. She’s tried everything. I think she’s even repeating orientations now, almost stubbornly.”
Dierdre considered his words carefully, aware that if she pushed him too hard, he’d become defensive. But still . . .
“Perhaps,” she muttered, as if merely thinking out loud, “perhaps she’s run out of ideas. She was never a true Prime, after all. She didn’t receive their training. Maybe . . . maybe someone else has thought of something new, something different, but they’re too afraid to come forward. What about Iscivius? Or Irmona?”
Marcus barked out a bitter laugh. “You think she’d listen to anything either one of them said? She barely trusts them in the pit working with the node under strict supervision.”
Dierdre retreated. “True, true. But what about you? You must have thought of something she hasn’t tried yet.”
“I have a few ideas.”
“I knew you would. Tell her.”
He shifted uncomfortably beneath her. “I doubt she’d listen to me. Not after what happened between us in Erenthrall.”
“Not even after you supported her takeover from Lecrucius?”
“Not even then.” He sounded wounded.
Dierdre leaned forward again and whispered, “Then perhaps you should try these configurations when she isn’t there.”
Before he could respond, she kissed him, her hands shifting down toward his chest. He resisted at first, as if he wanted to protest, but then he gasped and twisted in the chair, one hand rising to cup the back of her head, to pull her in closer, the kiss becoming rougher, more passionate.
Moments later the chair clattered to the floor and they were stumbling toward the bed, clothes being shed along the way, each grappling the other. They fell into bed, Dierdre uttering a startled cry that ended in a laugh as Marcus reared above her, her wrists caught in his hands. His breath came in ragged gasps of need and want, his thick blond-brown hair tousled, his face flushed, his startlingly blue, intense eyes staring down at her. Her own breath caught in her chest with a sharp, painful ache of triumph and possession and loss.
Then he fell on her, mouth roaming her neck, the hollow of her throat, her breasts, her skin hot and sweaty, burning from the inside. She arched into his hunger, moaning, but when he shifted lower she growled low in her throat and twisted beneath him, rolling him forcefully onto his back so that she straddled him, his wrists now caught by her hands. He struggled briefly, trying to reach for her, to seize control again, but she clamped her thighs tight around his chest and refused to let go.
Only when he stopped writhing beneath her did she loosen her hold. They were both gasping, flushed, sheened with sweat. She caught and held his gaze, each staring deeply into the other’s eyes. Something crackled between then, unseen, only felt in the core of her chest, in the tingling of her fingers and toes.
His breath hitched and caught.
Only then did she smile, leaning down to kiss him, her long black hair falling to trail across his chest. The kiss held, long and lingering, shivering deep into her body. Marcus trembled beneath her, gasping again, desperately, when she released it, as if he’d been submerged beneath water for too long. He fought to catch his breath.
After that, he didn’t struggle against her at all.
Hours later, after Marcus had returned to the node, Dierdre dressed in a dark shift, a length of cloth pulled up over her head to obscure her black hair and shadow her face, and slipped from the room into the halls of the temple. She skirted the rest of the living quarters used by the Wielders, avoiding even the passages used only by the servants. The temple was vast, with numerous corridors and rooms that hadn’t yet been explored by the enforcers or those that lived within it. Most of the rooms that were used were centered around the stellae garden and Needle and the functional rooms such as the orrery and storage vaults.
She wound her way up to the third tier, coming up on the corridor outside Father’s room far from the last torch, so that she’d be hidden in shadow. She’d hoped that the guards would have changed, that the replacements would be those aligned with her brother Darius, but she didn’t recognize any of them, so she withdrew with a silent curse.
If she couldn’t speak to Father herself, perhaps her brother had been able to gain access and would have news.
Retreating through the empty halls, she waited at a servants’ corridor until the passage was clear and reentered the main living area of the temple. Removing the shawl from her head, she walked purposefully toward the barracks for the officers, crossing one of the wide main corridors that ran directly from the outside of the temple to the Needle. Its length was illuminated completely with ley globes scavenged from both Erenthrall and Tumbor.
The residences on the far side of the corridor were more austere, the atmosphere more regimented and ordered. She passed a few enforcers in the halls, all of them nodding to her briefly. Some were working on polishing their armor or boots in their rooms, glancing out at her as she went by. Many were in the central gathering room, playing cards or dice or simply eating.
Darius’ room was slightly larger than the others, befitting his place as Second, but when she rapped lightly at the door, no one answered.
She bit back another curse.
“He’s at the wall.”
Dierdre looked up to find a red-haired female enforcer watching her from a doorway farther down the corridor. When she saw who it was, she frowned and stepped out into the hall, her face pale in the torchlight. She was dressed informally, in shirt, breeches, and boots,
although Dierdre noted the blade at her side and the knife thrust through her belt.
“You’re his sister Dierdre, right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to check the hall beyond Dierdre, then back behind herself. She licked her lips nervously and shifted forward. “His shift ends soon,” she said, her voice lowered, “but he won’t be returning here. There’s a meeting.” She gave a sign with one hand, one Dierdre recognized from before the Shattering, one the more violently-minded Kormanley sect had used.
Dierdre raised an eyebrow and gave the return signal, the woman nodding curtly in response, relief flashing briefly in her eyes.
“The meeting is in the outer city,” she said, her tone more confident now. “I’m headed there now, if you wanted to join me.”
“Of course. But I don’t know the way. Darius hadn’t given me the location yet.”
“I’ll show you.”
She led Dierdre out of the temple using the main corridors, speaking only to greet other enforcers or servants as they passed. Her pace was brisk, leaving little room for talk. Dierdre followed, wondering who the woman was and how she knew the old Kormanley signal. And this meeting . . .
What had Darius done? And why had he not included her if it related to the Kormanley?
Annoyed, she followed the woman into the outer city, built of more recent stone than the temple, but still ancient, from before the rise of Baron Arent and the creation of the Nexus. They passed through the street containing the general barracks and kitchens for the enforcers, then out into the more common areas. As they moved through the streets and alleys, Dierdre noted how much more active they’d become since Kara and Ty took over. She knew they’d been bringing in more and more refugees, but these streets felt crowded, almost like the streets of Erenthrall before the Shattering. It was late afternoon, the sun already slanting between the buildings in thick shafts of dust-strewn light. Men, women, and children were lining up at the communal kitchens for their allotment of bread, meat, and vegetables. Most of the staples were doled out by workers guarded by enforcers, a system originally set up by Father Dalton and then expanded upon by Ty and Kara once they began taking in others. Many of the workers wore white shirts, although Dierdre doubted many knew why. They had once had the Kormanley symbol of convergence stitched onto their arms.
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