Sarn had to repeat his story a couple more times before Jerlo and Nolo were satisfied. When he’d finished his final recitation, Nolo clasped his shoulder and met his emerald gaze. For once, Sarn felt nothing, no pull of a gaze lock, and it was a relief to make eye contact and see nothing in his master’s eyes except pride.
“You did well.” Nolo stopped before saying ‘Kid,’ but Sarn knew his superiors would revert to type tomorrow night, and he’d be the ‘Kid’ again. And strange enough, he looked forward to it because it was normal.
“Go on and get some sleep. You look like hell.” Jerlo nodded to the stairs. “And remember—my office at twentieth bell tomorrow. Be there.”
Sarn nodded. He needed no further inducement. Taking the reprieve offered, he rushed out of sight with a much lighter heart.
Nolo turned on his boss. “What are we going to do with him tomorrow night?”
“I don't know, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” Jerlo climbed down from the boulder and gave it a pat. “I need to schedule a meeting with Nulthir to discuss what the Kid just reported. This is the break he’s been hunting for.”
“Are you sure it was wise to let him go without seeing someone?”
“I still can’t believe—” Gregori shut up at a glance from Jerlo.
“The Kid looked a little out of sorts but who wouldn’t be after what he went through.” Jerlo nodded to where Sarn had vanished. Echoes faded as the mountain swallowed him.
Nolo’s gaze strayed to the night’s starry retreat. “Did we make the right decision to leave him out of this?”
Jerlo sighed. He’d wondered the same thing. Since magic objected to drugs, it had seemed wise to keep the Kid as far from the aliel trade as possible. “We didn’t know he had a personal connection to the case. Hell, we never actually had a case. Everyone died in the woods and the trees buried them if you recall.”
Jerlo rubbed the bridge of his nose in an uncharacteristic show of fatigue. Fighting a war on narcotics required more manpower than he had at his disposal. He also had to uphold the Rangers’ charter and safeguard hikers. Did the Council of Twelve care? Of course not, they handed down their mandates and expected immediate execution. Even from the backside of the mountain, he could spot incoming vessels. Mount Eredren's tiny port did a brisk business with the capital hence the crackdown.
Nolo nodded in response to his statement as a shadow fell over Jerlo.
His attention snapped to the man towering over him. “Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be right now? Yes,” Jerlo stroked his goatee, “I recall handing you an assignment. Have you finished it already?”
Gregori reddened, and rushed through the portal, heading in the opposite direction from Sarn.
“Would this assignment be the punishment you promised to mete out?” Nolo waited for an answer.
Jerlo said nothing until the echoes of Gregori’s heavier tread had faded. His thoughts had turned to the assignment and proof an uglier danger targeted the Kid.
“What do you think?”
“You're not going to tell me.”
“And spoil the surprise? Never. You’ll have to ask Gregori. In fact, I urge you to.” A satisfied smile sprouted and died on Jerlo’s lips. The fleeting expression was too alien to survive his temperament.
“And the Kid? Why’d you let him go?”
“You think I made a mistake.”
Nolo shook his head.
Jerlo allowed his tired eyes to wander over the land he protected, and the purpling ripple of the enchanted forest caught his gaze. A pale flame rose in its retreating darkness. He felt the Queen of All Trees’ gaze, but there was no challenge in her stance.
For a moment, she posed cloaked in the morning’s peace. Then her silver crown sailed away into the lightening morning. She was the personification of hope and everything magical and wonderful about Shayari. But she was also a gigantic pain in the ass.
Nolo roused from his contemplation and picked up the thread of their discussion. “No, you made the right decision. The Kid was too frazzled. I'm curious about what changed your mind, but I think I can guess.”
“I’ll bet you can.”
Jerlo regarded Shayari's departing Queen. She left a trail of silver luminance as her sister trees picked up the torch she passed to them. But there was still darkness hovering out there waiting to descend. It wore the eye blinding orange robes of the Seekers, and they were coming. Every day that order of fanatics stayed away gave them one more day to prepare.
“Will it keep until tomorrow? There were some troubling elements in his tale.”
Jerlo followed his subordinate’s gaze. Yes, and those elements smacked of black magic. If there was a ring of such foolishness here, he’d deal with it but not before he understood the problem better. The memories he’d stolen from Sarn crawled back to the fore of his mind. Jerlo brushed them aside. If he had to talk to that monster Hadrovel, he would.
“It has to. A body and a book are unaccounted for. Send Ranispara out there to correct that.”
“Are you certain this can wait?”
Jerlo nodded. “If it couldn’t, she wouldn’t have offered the Kid a way out. Let the Kid stew for a little while. If he speaks of what happened, listen but don’t lead the conversation.”
They both knew Sarn would maintain his silence without direct questioning.
“What did this buy us time for?”
“To act, of course.” Jerlo rubbed his hands together eager to get started on his research project. “Find out if anyone else has seen those orange-robed lunatics abroad. Put the word out there’s money for reliable intel on their movements. Oh, and find out if anyone unusual is missing.” Jerlo’s lips twisted at the euphemism. “Put out feelers in all the settlements within sixty miles of here. If a Seeker shat on a grass blade, I want to know when and where.”
“Only sixty? Why not further?”
“You can put out feelers further afield, but we may not have time to wait for their response.”
“You think they know about the Kid—”
“It’s best we assume they do and act accordingly.”
“Consider it done. I’ll track down Jallister to help.”
“Good man. Don’t forget to send Ranispara out. I want those loose ends tied up before this afternoon.”
Nolo nodded, but neither left the bluff. Their gazes caught on the luminous Queen of All Trees ascending Mount Lireth in the distance.
“Back to spy on us, eh?” Jerlo muttered under his breath.
She paused, and her sightless gaze targeted him, then her crown bobbed, approving their plan.
Unnerved by her canniness, they bolted inside, with Jerlo a fraction of a second behind his subordinate. His boot triggered the door, and it slid back into place removing her from sight.
From her mountain perch, the Queen of All Trees surveyed her kingdom. Enchanted trees stretched on for miles uncounted. Parts of it still needed to be cleansed of the demon’s taint, but that would have to wait. She had business elsewhere this morning.
Chapter 33
Sarn vaulted over the last few stairs and hit the ground running. Skidding on rubble, he almost plowed into Will but managed to stop in time. Unfortunately, that put him face to face with the younger man and the question he’d been avoiding for months now.
“Can we talk another time? I have to go,” Sarn gestured to his cave and his waiting son.
Will mashed his lips into a thin line while that fates-damned question loomed over Sarn. How much longer could he dodge it?
Realization clobbered Will, and he struggled to absorb it. “You’re not coming back.”
Sarn folded his arms and shook his head. Maybe he should soften the blow. But the words rising to his lips recounted the night's events, not his reasons for leaving the Foundlings. He should go before he alienated Will. But as Sarn edged around his troubled friend, grief overwhelmed him. Damn Will for reminding him h
e’d lost a friend this morning.
“Shade’s dead.” The words burst out before Sarn could stop them. The Foundlings had never known what to make of the androgynous Shade, and their unease had often led to ridicule. But they deserved to know even if the news failed to grieve them.
“I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”
“We were once, but then Shade got into drugs and—” Sarn let the sentence hang as he leaned against the wall opposite Will. Aliel powder opened a whole new world for Shade, but magic had barred Sarn from following.
That night kept replaying—Jallister’s invitation, his acceptance, wine and spirits making the rounds. Memories slipped and slid in and out of focus. They framed a packet of white powder, the doorway into Shade’s world.
Sarn shoved the memories away. “Magic objects to drugs.”
“I know. You almost died. Beku was irate about it for months.” Will studied him. “Did you try it because of Shade?”
“Yeah, I was losing my best friend to aliel—Angel’s Dust. I thought if I did it too, we’d be close again.” Sarn looked at the floor. He’d never told anyone this. Why was he admitting it now? Maybe he’d held in too much for too long. Even silence must have an expiration date. “But the magic rejected it.” And its rejection had flayed him from the inside.
“I remember. It was only three years ago. You scared the hell out of us, but Beku said you’d live, and she was right.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah, she was determined to make you well. I guess whatever she did worked because you’re still here.”
And Shade was gone. It was the final rejection. First drugs had taken his friend away, and now death. There would never be a reconciliation. All he had was the year and a half they’d both lived under Hadrovel’s cruelty. Not all friendships were made to last. Maybe he’d clung to this one for too long.
“Yeah well, I was screwed up for a while, but I’m better now.” And Sarn was. With his first word, his son had opened the door to a new world and Sarn had walked through it with the magic’s blessing. To his son, he turned now as he pushed off the wall. “Thanks for listening. I know you and my brother are close, but would you keep this to yourself? He’s never liked Shade.” And Sarn had no intention of telling Miren any of this.
Will nodded and kicked a loose stone. “Of course. You know I’m closer in age to you than your brother, right? So anytime you want to talk, you know where to find me.”
Sarn did know, but more than age divided them. So he squeezed Will’s shoulder as he passed.
After taking his leave, the Lower Quarters seemed darker than usual. Was the lumir dimmer today? Not his problem if it was. People icons cropped up as Sarn veered around another bend. Instead of the usual gold, the map cast these folks in a putrid shade of brown. It was time he stopped ignoring them. Shade had called him an angel. Maybe he could be their angel, their symbol of hope this morning. It seemed a fitting memorial to his friend, so Sarn steeled himself.
As he entered another gallery, his luminous gaze played over rags and bone-thin limbs. Maybe he should go back. Who was he kidding? He was a freak, not a savior. Turning, Sarn gave the addicts his back.
A voice cut across his doubts. Steady and clear it recited Shade’s words from yesterday stopping Sarn in his tracks.
“Angel flies and falls. Broken-winged, he still calls.” She continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. “Send forth your angels, brighten their wide eyes. Let those the world forgot, see your angels.”
Such an invitation deserved an answer. Taking a deep breath, Sarn picked a path to the filthy woman.
Through stringy hair she regarded him. “You’re the angel.” She grinned yellowed teeth at him and elbowed the air next to her. “I told you there were angels among us.”
He could have asked her about Shade, but he let the moment pass. Shade was gone, and he respected his friend’s privacy. After wishing her a good day, Sarn crossed the cavern and left without speaking to anyone else.
Sarn barreled on, weaving around the rubble, columns, and stalagmites. His eyes scraped back the shadows seeking a scarred and pitted door. Finding it, he threw it open, rushed in and shut the world out.
Sarn bolted the door then slid down it, waiting for the nightmare to end, but it was his new reality. Shade was dead, and his friend had conspired with the Seeker’s allies. Now he had proof men would kill because of the color and luminosity of his eyes and the magic in his blood. And there might be other people walking around with psychic passengers. What a mess his friend had left behind.
Tentative footsteps approached Sarn, and he opened his eyes to find Ran standing there holding his stuffed bear. Ran poked him in the ribs.
“Papa? Are you here?”
“Yes, I’m back.” Sarn held out both arms.
Ran dropped Bear and walked into the hug he’d waited all night to receive. Smiling into his shoulder, Ran returned the squeeze. “You have to finish the story.”
“What story?”
Ran squirmed and pointed to two glowing spots of white on the floor.
“The one about the seeds and the Queen Tree.”
“I finished that story a few days ago.”
Ran plucked a glowing leaf out of Sarn’s hair and smiled in triumph.
“It’s not finished yet.” Sarn leaned his head against the door’s reassuring solidity. This story was unsuitable for a young child’s ears and yet, he wanted to tell it, but grief robbed him of words.
“Why’s it not finished?” Ran’s eyes lit up. “Can we go on an ad-ven-ture to finish it?”
Sarn blinked at the connection his son had drawn. How had—never mind. He brushed the Queen of All Trees’ leaves from his hair and clothes.
“I’m hungry. Can we have breakfast first?”
“Of course, breakfast sounds like a great idea.” Sarn’s stomach growled its answer, and he stepped over a pile of shining leaves in search of breakfast. But all he found was an empty sack and a bag of oats. Sarn held both items up.
Ran grimaced. “Uncle Miren’s friends came over.” He had tossed silver leaves into the air, then ticked off their names on his fingers and smiled as he ended with, “—and Saveen. He and I played knights and dragons.”
From there Ran launched into a full report, but Sarn had already caught the most salient points. Miren’s friends had eaten the rest of the food leaving him with one option—the subterranean farm where the Queen of All Trees had tried to send him earlier.
“Get your cloak and boots but be quiet. Miren needs his sleep.”
“Why? You said we’d have breakfast first.”
“And we will, but we have to fetch breakfast before we can eat it.”
“Oh,” Ran scampered off and rushed back half tripping over his laces.
Sarn dropped to one knee and tied them while his son fumbled his cloak into place. Two quick knots later and his son was ready to go, but Sarn wasn’t.
Miren slept on unaware of his return or the events of the night. Sarn envied his ignorance, but not enough to ruin it. There would be time enough to talk everything over with his brother later. So he unlocked the door and walked out with his son at his side. His heart knew the way, and each step broke it.
Stopping at the waist-high pile of debris which had distressed his son only yesterday, Sarn steeled himself for an argument.
“We climb?”
Sarn nodded and waited for a tantrum, but Ran just started climbing. Perhaps his son had forgotten where this tunnel led.
Once on the other side, they followed a tunnel and still, Ran didn’t recognize it. Sarn paused at a shoulder-high pillar festooned with rows of clay cylinders. He touched one and spun the wheel. As it revolved clockwise, his fingers skimmed its surface, and his magic read the raised circular runes.
“What is it?”
“They’re prayer wheels. Each cylinder is a different prayer. This is how the old races—the Magic Kind—r
emembered the good things and prayed for them.” Sarn swallowed the sob ripping up his windpipe. Shade had told him about the prayer wheels when he was too scared of Hadrovel to sleep.
Copying him, Ran turned the wheels on the lower rows and giggled despite a heroic effort to be serious. Sarn basked in the warmth of his son’s smile; it was a balm on his hurting heart. His son was such a gift, and so too was Miren in his own way.
After they had spun all the wheels once, Sarn led his son onward. Crystals glowed on the ceiling as they branched off heading toward a magical hub. But Sarn ignored them. They’d already given him what knowledge they possessed. Their light no longer attracted him.
Recognizing the route, at last, Ran frowned. “Where're we going, Papa?”
Sarn sighed. “To where it all started before you were born, come on. I'll behave.”
Ran scowled up at him uncomprehending. “You don’t touch glowing things.”
“Okay, I won't.” Sarn tugged on his son's hand.
The tunnel curved past the farm toward the book-lined chamber where he and the blind man had spoken. Sarn was about to bypass it too, but sounds of a scuffle convinced him otherwise. Where there was one book on black magic, there might be more.
“Stay behind me.”
“Why?”
“So I can protect you.”
“There are bad things in there,” Ran stated as he tugged on Sarn’s hand. “Don’t go in there.”
“I have to, but you stay out here. I won’t be long.” And he had a fair idea who was inside—one or more of Shade’s creations judging by the nausea stirring his gut. No doubt they were searching for books on magic. It made sense since they were magical creations.
Ran didn’t like his reasoning but he was the parent, and the doorway wasn’t wide enough for two.
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