“All of these changes? What about our own plans? Isn’t it time to begin bringing down the Nexus? Marcus says he thinks he sees how it could be done. His experiences manipulating the Nexus have given him some insight into how it works. You said yourself it feels as if everything is coming to a head now. Perhaps this is our opportunity to interrupt the Benefactor’s plans and take out the Nexus.”
Dalton nodded, his eyes still on the empty hallway before him. “The culmination is near. The visions proclaim it, and I feel it in every sinew in my body.”
“But?”
He raised his trembling hands before him, willed them to stillness, but the doubts that plagued him and the terror of the visions wouldn’t allow for calmness and they continued to shake. He let them drop to the table again. Was this their opportunity? If he didn’t act now, would the Baron succeed in whatever it was he intended? Or was it too early?
He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell.
“It is not yet time. Tell Marcus to make the indicated changes, as written.”
Dierdre hesitated. Dalton could taste her doubt on the air, acrid and bitter, but she turned and left, the coarse paper rustling as the door closed behind her.
Dalton bowed his head, a wave of regret sweeping through him. For a single moment, the fires of his vision consumed him to his core, seared him with the certainty that he had made a mistake, that he had let his chance pass by.
But then the fires faded and he was left only with his fears.
Baron Arent cut through a section of lamb, the meat tender and perfectly cooked. Captain Daedallen sat to his left, looking uncomfortable at the formal setting, as if he wasn’t certain which fork to use, or what the shallow bowl of lavender-scented water to one side was for, although he had attended formal dinners before. The rest of the lengthy table was empty, although a seat awaited the arrival of Prime Augustus to Arent’s right.
The two ate in silence, Daedallen having already delivered his report. Arent hid his own rage in the meticulous slicing of meat. He could not quite control the tic near his temple.
Twenty eternal minutes later, the door on the far end of the room opened and Prime Augustus entered, pausing as he noticed Daedallen, then moving down the length of the room toward them.
Arent’s rage faltered only a moment when he saw how exhausted Augustus looked, his eyes sunken in their sockets, his face drawn and haggard. He motioned toward the empty seat.
“Join us. Eat. Daedallen has heard back from the Hound sent to Tumbor. You need to hear his report.”
With a small nod from Arent, Daedallen set down his fork and focused on Augustus. “The Hound believes Baron Leethe has been behind our recent troubles with the ley network. He has discovered that Leethe, with the cooperation of the Primes in Tumbor, has created his own secondary Nexus, one to rival that of Erenthrall.”
Arent watched Augustus closely. The Prime Wielder stared at Daedallen in incomprehension, back hunched over.
“He has created a new Nexus,” Arent said, barely controlling his anger. “He has forsaken the contract with Erenthrall, with you, with me!”
Augustus gaped, as if Arent’s rage had finally pierced through the weariness that lay over him like a shroud. He straightened, glanced toward Daedallen, who remained silent, his expression clouded, then back toward Arent. “A new Nexus? Leethe?”
“Is it possible?” Arent snapped. “Is it possible that the Primes in Tumbor have turned traitor? Is it possible they could construct a Nexus equivalent to that here in Erenthrall? Could Leethe seize control of the ley?”
“I . . . I don’t . . .”
Arent slammed his palm down on the table, glassware and silverware jumping, the sharp sound startling in the elegant silence of the room. “Gods damn it, Augustus! Wake up! Is it possible for Leethe to take control of the ley?”
Anger flared through Augustus’ eyes and he clamped his mouth shut, teeth grinding. Arent didn’t care, as long as it brought the Prime out of his lethargy. He needed answers. He needed confirmation.
He needed to take back control.
“I don’t think so,” Augustus snarled, his back rigid now, but doubt marred his expression. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“But if someone were to attempt it, it would require massive power. They would have to draw from the main network—”
“Meaning Erenthrall,” Daedallen said.
Augustus shot him a dark look, but Daedallen didn’t respond. “Yes, meaning Erenthrall. And they would have to overcome the protective security measures I’ve put in place—” His eyes widened with sudden realization. “No, they wouldn’t. Not since they have someone in Erenthrall manipulating the Nexus from within. That person’s already inside the main security measures. They’ve already circumvented them.”
His voice had risen as he spoke, all of the exhaustion gone. He shoved back from the table, hard enough to knock his wine over, but Arent clamped a hand down on his forearm and he lurched to a halt.
“Can you place these security measures on the Nexus itself? Keep the infiltrator from accessing the Nexus from the nodes?”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do since I discovered what they were up to?” Augustus spat. “But I can’t restrict the access from the nodes without cutting the power flowing out of the Nexus! Erenthrall needs that power. Without it, nothing will work, as we’ve seen with the blackouts. And that power flow is exactly what they’re using to create their own Nexus. They’re altering the orientation of the crystals here to shunt the power to Tumbor. That’s what’s causing the blackouts. It might even be the cause of the distortions.”
“What about cutting Tumbor off from the Nexus? Cut the flow of ley to Leethe’s city?”
“We’d be cutting off the flow to other cities as well. The network is too interconnected to isolate only Tumbor. It’s a flaw in the system, something I didn’t anticipate.” Augustus grimaced at the admission. “You would risk angering Baron Calluin, along with relations with the Gorrani, the Archipelago, the Horn. It’s possible, but the collateral damage to Farrade and the other nations would be significant.”
“How do you intend to stop them, then?” Daedallen asked.
“I can’t stop them unless I’m inside the Nexus. I have to be present when they attempt to alter the alignment of the crystals. It’s the only way short of cutting the power to Tumbor completely.”
He met Arent’s gaze, their eyes locking, Augustus’ filled with rage, his arm still trapped in Arent’s grasp. Arent tightened his grip, but the Prime Wielder never wavered, his jaw locked rigid, the exhaustion setting the bones of his aged face in stark relief. He hadn’t been immersing himself in the ley baths, Arent realized, not as often as he should have been. This trespass on his domain, this infiltration of his Nexus, had consumed him.
Arent released him.
Augustus straightened, then spun and headed stiffly toward the doors of the dining chamber. Halfway there, he announced, “I won’t give up my network. I won’t give up my ley.” Then he stalked out of the room.
Arent gripped the edges of the table hard, knuckles white. His glare dropped to the table, to where the dark red stain of Augustus’ wine grew, the liquid nearing the edge of the table. In a tightly controlled voice, he said, “Order the Dogs to collect everyone they have been following. Everyone. No matter how trivial their suspicions. We can’t count on Augustus stopping this Wielder from inside the Nexus. I won’t place all of my trust in him alone. We have to find this traitor ourselves. And have the Hound kill Baron Leethe. He’s violated the compact with Erenthrall. Not even Baron Calluin would dispute his transgressions now.”
Daedallen reached for his knife and fork. “Already done. The Hound is unleashed, as you ordered. And the Dogs have already been sent.”
Arent sent the captain a harsh look, irritation at the anticipation of his orders about
the Dogs roiling upward from within. He would have given vent to them, had already drawn breath to berate the captain, when the ley globes that illuminated the entire hall flickered—
And went out.
Twenty-Four
KARA SCRUBBED AT her face where she sat cross-legged at the edge of the sand pit at the University, feeling the grit around her eyes and the strain of using the Tapestry and manipulating the ley all day. But she stifled the yawn and subdued her weariness and tried to focus on the sands before her. The shifting granules hissed, a noise that had grated on her nerves at first, but after spending hours with Cory and Hernande in the practice rooms over the last week—every hour she could spare from her duties at the node—she’d grown accustomed to it, almost found it soothing.
She noticed Cory watching her from across the pit, brow furrowed in concern, so she smiled. “So what have you two learned since yesterday?”
To one side, Hernande grunted. “We’ve been able to extend the range of the pit out to a radius of about two days’ travel.”
“But at that range,” Cory interjected, “the details of the ley system are lost. You can only see the major ley lines, those used for shipping, or those that connect to the major ley sources surrounding Erenthrall.”
“The finer details, like the lines that form the network here in Erenthrall, are lost.”
“We’ve spent most of our time studying the interactions of the lines here in Erenthrall, trying to determine what is causing the distortions and the blackouts,” Cory said. He hunkered down close to the sands, pointing out aspects as he spoke. The pit was currently set on Erenthrall, on the districts surrounding Stone, and Stone itself. “Since you’re most familiar with Stone and Eld, we’ve reset the map on that area. I think we’ve watched it closely enough to determine the normal flow of the ley in general. Most of the activity is centered at the nodes, of course. We noticed a fluctuation here, near the ley station—”
Kara nodded. “There was a wrinkle in the Tapestry earlier today. Illiana was sent to repair it.”
“—and a disturbance on the edge of Green.”
“A distortion. Normally I wouldn’t have known about that, but it was close enough to Stone that one of our Wielders crossed into Green to help.”
“Then it would seem,” Hernande said, both Kara and Cory looking toward where he stood contemplating the map, “that the sands react almost instantly to changes in the ley. This could be invaluable to the Primes.”
“It would be invaluable to the Wielders. Our patrols don’t catch all of the distortions. We never know when or where they will happen. If a Wielder isn’t close enough to sense the disruption to the Tapestry, we often don’t even know a distortion occurred until someone reports it. With this, we’d be able to locate one from the node as it was forming, then send someone directly to it to deal with it.” She shook her head in angry regret. “But the Primes would never allow it.”
“There has to be a way,” Cory said.
“I don’t see how. Not with all of the tension between the Primes and the Wielders. Especially now.”
“Why is that?” Hernande asked quietly. He was chewing on the end of his beard again, his gaze intent.
Kara scowled. “The Primes seem to think the Wielders are causing the blackouts. Or at least one of the Wielders.”
Hernande’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is it true?”
Kara shifted uncomfortably. She’d been thinking about it ever since the Wielders had noticed the shift in the Primes’ attention and Steven had returned from one of his visits to the Nexus in a fit of anger. “I don’t know. I don’t see why.”
“But you do see how.” Hernande made it a statement, not a question, and once again Kara fidgeted in discomfort. She had grown to like him, but he was too perceptive.
She almost lied and denied it, but sighed and said, “Yes. I can see how it could be done using the nodes. But I still don’t see why. The Wielders are sworn to preserve the ley, to repair the Tapestry.”
Hernande grunted. She expected him to ask for details, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Do not forget the Kormanley. They intended to protect the ley as well, yet they instigated significant damage—and death—in the name of their cause. Does it not seem possible that a Wielder would be willing to cause destruction in order to protect and preserve the ley?”
Kara frowned, unable to answer. It didn’t make sense to her, but she had never understood the Kormanley, could barely repress her anger and grief at the mention of their name.
But she knew Wielders who were passionate about the ley, about the Tapestry and the protection of the network. She worked with them on a daily basis. Illiana rose instantly to mind. And Marcus. Even herself. It was their work. For some of them, it was their entire life.
As she struggled to comprehend what Hernande had suggested, the mangy dog that had attached itself to her lurched upright from where he’d lounged in a far corner, ears at attention, a low growl coming from deep in his chest. Cory suddenly glanced up from the map toward the door, then stood.
“Something’s happening,” he said sharply.
The warning in his voice caught Kara’s attention.
Outside the room, she heard the muffled sounds of a struggle, the harshness of boots against stone. A voice rose, loud and demanding, cut off by the sound of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a cry. Her dog barked once in warning. Kara rose to her feet, but Hernande had already moved around the pit. He flung open the door to the practice room and glared out into the hall, and in the next breath roared, “What is the meaning of this? What are you doing here? Dogs are not allowed on University grounds!”
Two Dogs appeared in the doorway, their angry gazes falling on Kara. One of them sneered in satisfaction, then shoved past Hernande, the mentor slamming into the wooden door. Her own dog scrambled to her side, barking fiercely.
“Dogs go where they wish,” the lead Dog growled, “by the Baron’s decree.” He pointed toward Kara. “We’ve come for you, Wielder.”
Kara’s heart lurched in her chest and she swallowed back the taste of bile rising up in her throat. She didn’t dare glance down at the map, the shifting of the sands suddenly loud in her ears. “What for?”
“Does it matter? The Baron wants to speak with you.”
He started forward, two more Dogs appearing behind the second waiting in the doorway. Shouts came from the hall, mentors and students exclaiming in outrage, some voices tinged with authority, others with fear. Kara took a step back as the lead Dog advanced, tried to restrain her own dog, now barking wildly and dancing protectively around her.
Suddenly Cory stood between her and the guard. His face was locked in determination, edged deeply with fear. “You can’t—” he began.
But the Dog reached out, grabbed him by the shoulders, and flung him aside. He hit the wall of the practice room, crumpled to the stone floor, rolling to the edge of the pit. Kara didn’t even have time to protest before the Dog’s hand latched onto her arm, fingers digging painfully into muscle. He jerked her forward, began hauling her toward the door. Her mutt growled and lunged at the Dog’s heel, but the guard kicked it aside viciously. It hit the wall with a yelp and lay motionless. Everything was happening too fast. It didn’t make any sense. If they were here for her, because of the map, then why weren’t they seizing Cory and Hernande? The Dog hadn’t even looked at the map. But if they weren’t here for the map, what did they want her for?
Then Cory gasped, “Kara, look!”
She twisted in the guard’s grip, saw Cory at the top of the stone steps that led down to the sands. He pointed toward the map, toward a particular section.
The Dog hauled her forward, but she dug in her heels, resisting, even though the Dog wrenched her arm painfully to one side in reaction. She focused on the sands, realized that something was wrong, something had changed. The normal flow had altered, the san
ds in one part running in the opposite direction, running from one of the nodes back toward the Nexus. She sucked in a sharp breath, held it as the pattern solidified, as something within the swirling eddies of the Nexus changed—
And then, even as the sands settled into the new pattern, the ley light within the practice chambers guttered and went out. With a rustling sigh, the sands of the map halted. All of the protests in the outer corridor, all of the demands, fell silent.
“Blackout,” one of the Dogs muttered in disgust.
The single word broke the tableau.
“Let’s move!” the Dog holding Kara roared. His grip tightened and he dragged her toward him in the darkness of the room. “Go, go, go!” he barked, the sound so close Kara winced, and then he pushed her out into the hall where the other Dogs were bulling their way through the mentors and students. All of their protests had died in the blackout, everything chaotic. Kara stumbled over people, bumped into bodies, hauled forward relentlessly by the Dogs down hallways and corridors, until suddenly they spilled out of the servants’ stairs and into the harsh afternoon sunlight.
She blinked, her mind refusing to think. Because the Dogs were still herding her forward, moving fast, cutting through the clusters of University people in the quad out front, heading toward the gates. Because even in the daylight she could tell that all of Erenthrall had been affected by the blackout.
And because the disturbance she had seen in the sands, the disturbance that had affected the Nexus, that had caused the blackout . . .
That disturbance had originated in the Eld node.
And she knew, with sudden and undeniable gut-wrenching certainty, what that meant:
“Marcus.”
Hagger drew the edge of the blade down along Allan’s shoulder, to the armpit and across to his lower back, drawing out a thin line of blood. He wasn’t pressing deep, even though he wanted to—oh, how he wanted to, his rage making his hand tremble—but the sweat and blood that already slicked Allan’s back salted the wound and Allan’s breath quickened as it hissed through clenched teeth. His entire body shuddered, even though Hagger knew he was trying to control it, trying not to react. Hagger knew Allan had seen enough of these sessions—participated in enough of them—to know that reacting fed Hagger’s need. He grinned as he thought about everything he intended for this lying, cowardly traitor. He’d only just begun.
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