Davian pushed himself to his feet, dismissing the thought. “Ready,” he announced, stretching a little. “This time I think …”
He frowned at Ishelle’s expression, turning to see movement beyond the remains of the archway at the far end of the courtyard. Three red-cloaked figures were picking their way past the debris, and even at this distance Davian could see that they wore grim expressions.
“Be nice,” he murmured, low enough that only Ishelle could hear.
“Always,” responded Ishelle with a vaguely hurt look. She turned to the trio as they approached.
“I think your archway fell down,” she called out to them, expression innocent as she indicated the rubble.
The Elders glowered at them as one, not excluding Davian from the glare. Normally the Council would have underlings relaying messages, but Davian suspected that they had very few willing volunteers when it came to dealing with the Augurs. Even the Elders themselves, when they visited, seemed reluctant to come alone.
Aliria, an attractive redheaded woman who was perhaps ten years Davian’s senior, crossed her arms and ignored Ishelle’s cheerful observation. “The Council has requested your presence immediately.”
“Immediately?” Davian frowned. It was unlike the Council to summon them without notice.
“Immediately,” confirmed Thil grimly, red cloak unable to hide his lithely muscular form. Like Aliria, he was closer to Davian’s age than Davian had ever expected an Elder to be—in his midthirties, perhaps even younger.
“Requested?” Ishelle gave Thil a bright smile.
Thil met her gaze for a moment but then looked away. Davian shot Ishelle a reproachful frown, then grabbed his cloak from the bench.
“It’s fine. We’re coming,” he reassured them. He glanced pointedly again over at Ishelle.
Ishelle glowered at him, but eventually sighed.
“Yes, yes. We’re coming,” she agreed.
Davian did his best not to react as the throng of Gifted ahead parted, almost brushing up against the walls of the buildings on either side in their eagerness to give the Augurs a wide berth.
“You’d think a week would be long enough for them to realize that we’re not dangerous,” he murmured to Ishelle. They had quickly become isolated as the Elders escorted them through the Inner Ward of Tol Shen, with every eye warily on them. Though the hubbub of cheerful voices still emanated from farther ahead, Davian and Ishelle left only muted murmuring in their wake.
“But we are dangerous.” Ishelle abruptly veered off to the left, and Davian had to hide a smirk at the stuttering sidesteps and looks of sheer panic she elicited from those now in her path. She rejoined Davian after a few seconds, ignoring the glares of the Elders and not bothering to conceal her own amusement at the discomfort she’d caused. “See?”
Davian shook his head. “Now that I think about it, I can probably see why they get nervous around us,” he said drily.
Ishelle shrugged. “I tried to be friendly. We both did. Fates, we tried the entire way here.”
Davian sighed, but acknowledged the statement with a nod. They had tried to put the Gifted at ease—making sincere efforts to strike up conversation with their companions during the journey to Tol Shen, and then with plenty of others since their arrival. It seemed like each attempt had ended with the Gifted either rudely or nervously excusing themselves.
Half the Gifted here were clearly terrified of them. The other half, perhaps more worryingly, appeared to resent their very existence.
Doing his best to ignore the stares of the crowd as they passed, Davian instead focused on the still-unfamiliar surroundings. Like Ilin Illan, most of the structures in Tol Shen were the Builders’ work; it showed in every smooth line of the fortress, every perfectly placed stone.
Even so, the massive network of interconnected buildings and walkways felt very different from the capital. Here beauty gave way to something geared more purely toward functionality, with hints of a militaristic design filtering through to everything from the arrow-straight layout of paths, to the flat-topped roofs, to the way that the buildings grew gradually taller the closer they stood to the center of the compound.
And, of course, there were the enormous walls that always loomed in the background. Almost as tall as the Shields at Fedris Idri, the walls were what divided Tol Shen into its three concentric circles—the Outer, Inner, and Central Wards.
Unlike the Shields, though, there was no one manning these walls; instead, blue lines of Essence pulsed constantly around their upper third. On their first day at the Tol, Ishelle had vividly demonstrated the purpose of that Essence by tossing an apple at it. Her projectile had turned to ash the moment that it had made contact.
The crowd thinned and the path began to slope gently downward as they approached the passageway beneath the wall that connected the Inner and Central Wards. Allowing for no more than five people abreast, the tunnel began fifty feet before the looming barrier. The red-cloaked guards at the entrance eyed Davian and Ishelle mistrustfully as they approached—most Gifted knew them either by sight or description now—but as soon as Thil flashed his dual silver armbands, they were reluctantly waved through.
They started through the tunnel. A few paces ahead, Elder Aliria murmured something to her two companions and dropped back, falling into step with Davian and Ishelle.
“Elder,” said Davian politely, nodding. Despite the close confines, something odd in the acoustics meant that his voice didn’t echo as it should have. The way the stone absorbed sound was still unsettling, even after having made this trip several times.
Aliria smiled prettily at him, and Davian suddenly knew what was coming next.
“I was wondering if you’d reconsidered your stance on Reading?” Aliria swept a lock of red hair back from her face. “I do understand your hesitation, but it really would be for the good of the Tol. And it would be a wonderful way to start working together.” She paused. “In fact, working that closely with us, I’m sure we’d need to get you some accommodations in Central. It would alleviate the need for this nonsense of you having to be escorted every time you need to see the Council.”
Davian and Ishelle glanced at each other.
“We have reconsidered,” said Davian slowly. He almost laughed as Aliria’s expression grew greedy. “There’s just one problem.”
“Most of the Gifted around here seem to have figured out how to shield themselves,” chimed in Ishelle.
“We’ve been trying,” continued Davian. “Really hard. But …”
“They’re just really good at it,” concluded Ishelle apologetically.
“Evidently had good teachers,” said Davian regretfully.
“So even if more Augurs arrive, I’m afraid they won’t be able to help you, either,” observed Ishelle.
“Which is a shame because we really wanted to help,” added Davian.
Aliria’s expression had steadily darkened as they’d talked, until now her anger was unmistakable even in the dim Essence light of the tunnel.
“I see,” was all she said. She increased her pace, rejoining the other two Elders without another word.
Davian watched her go, then sighed. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have been quite so glib about it.”
“We were exactly the right amount of glib.” Ishelle gave an unconcerned shrug. “I’m more worried that we genuinely can’t Read anyone now.”
“Something which we were never going to do anyway,” said Davian firmly. “If we want people to stop being terrified of us, we have to show them that we have some moral boundaries.”
“Or at least pretend to have them,” said Ishelle.
Davian snorted. “Either way. We’re not spies.”
“We’re not,” Ishelle concurred readily. “Besides—the second we let the Council start taking advantage of our abilities, there won’t be an end to it.”
Davian grunted in agreement. It had been Aliria who had approached them on their first day at the Tol, too; then, as with to
day, she’d strongly implied that the offer came from the Council itself. That had never been explicit, though, so there would no doubt be vehement denials if the Augurs ever claimed as much.
Davian nodded toward the three Elders ahead. “So what do you think this is about, anyway?”
Ishelle glanced across at him. “I can guess what you’re hoping for, but I wouldn’t wager it’s anything to do with the Boundary. Driscin’s still”—she paused, closing her eyes briefly—“at least a day away. Maybe two.”
“And they won’t want to discuss it until he gets back. I know.”
“Driscin’s the only one on the Council who was part of the sig’nari,” Ishelle said, her tone taking on the slightest hint of defensiveness. “Ever since he found me, he’s been the one they’ve turned to for advice when it comes to Augurs—and they probably did it long before that. You can’t really blame them for wanting to wait for him.”
Davian sighed but said nothing more. They’d already had this disagreement on several separate occasions, and right now wasn’t the time to continue it.
They trailed after the Elders in silence after that, emerging from the other side of the tunnel and into the tranquil gardens of Central Ward.
Davian shook his head as he took in the bright, lush greenery and gently tinkling fountain in the distance, as was always his reaction when they came here. Central was home to the Elders and their likely successors, men and women either already in power or being primed for it. The buildings here were not just taller but better furnished, gardens were beautifully maintained even as they kept their clean, militaristic lines, and the streets and walkways were startlingly peaceful due to the exclusivity of the area. It reminded him more of the palace at Ilin Illan than anywhere else.
After a few minutes they reached the Council Chambers, a tall tower with elegantly tapering sides that was situated close to the very center of Tol Shen. The guards frowned as they approached—a reaction Davian was growing accustomed to—but opened the doors for them without hesitation.
To Davian’s surprise, the majority of the Shen Council were inside.
The Council’s primary meeting hall was, in many respects, not dissimilar to the one at Tol Athian: a large room with the Elders’ seats raised well above the main floor, on a balcony accessible only by an entirely different entrance. Just as it had in Tol Athian, it made Davian feel very much like a supplicant coming before a ruler. Which, he had no doubt, was by design.
The biggest distinction, though, was one that was hard to miss.
At the back of the Elders’ balcony, contained behind an enormous glass wall, a torrent of Essence swirled and pulsed in constant, hypnotic motion. It silhouetted the Elders dramatically, making the entire upper section difficult to look directly at.
There were other differences from Tol Athian, too, though they were less pronounced. These chambers were richly adorned, with tapestries and gilt-framed paintings on the walls. Even against the bright light, Davian could tell that the seating above was plush, far more comfortable than the solid-looking benches he’d seen in Tol Athian. There were younger Gifted serving food and drink here, too, their ears glowing from the Essence that blocked their hearing while they were in the room.
The Elders—at least twenty of them up above, more than Davian had seen together since the day of his and Ishelle’s arrival—were talking softly amongst themselves.
Davian shuffled his feet impatiently after a few seconds, exchanging a wry glance with Ishelle as their entrance was all but ignored.
“You’d think that if they were going to summon us, they’d at least show us the courtesy of realizing when we’d arrived,” observed Ishelle loudly.
Davian found himself caught between wince and smirk as the voices above stopped, silence falling as red-cloaked men and women turned to glare down at them.
“Augur Ishelle. Augur Davian. Thank you for coming.” Elder Lyrus Dain led Tol Shen; his gray hair singled him out as one of the older Gifted on the Council. His words were polite enough, but as always, Davian sensed the sneer that was barely concealed beneath.
The soft-featured man paused as Aliria—Elder Dain’s wife—and the other two Elders joined the Council members on the balcony. His expression darkened when Aliria gave him the slightest shake of her head as she sat.
Lyrus continued to frown in thought for a moment, then turned back to the Augurs. “I’m sorry to take up your valuable time,” he added drily.
“You’re forgiven, Elder Dain,” said Ishelle politely, giving no indication that she’d seen the exchange with Aliria. “But perhaps we could get to why we’re here?”
Lyrus didn’t react, but Davian could almost see the irritation radiating from him. “As you say.”
Davian sighed inwardly. Most of their dealings with the Council had gone this way, though not all of them had degenerated quite so quickly. Ishelle, for all her ties to Tol Shen, seemed to have little respect for anyone here aside from Driscin.
Lyrus glanced at one of the Elders sitting behind him—Nathyn, Davian thought was his name—and a silent exchange passed between them. Lyrus turned back. “I would like you both to confirm for me where you were last night.” His tone was stern, containing a hint of accusation.
Ishelle and Davian exchanged a puzzled glance. “We were in bed,” said Ishelle.
Davian flushed a little at the raised eyebrows. “Separate rooms,” he emphasized.
Lyrus nodded absently, though he didn’t look like he cared either way. “And can you verify that?”
“I was asleep,” said Davian slowly. “So not really.”
“Same,” concurred Ishelle. She squinted up at the Elder. “Why are you asking?”
Instead of answering, Lyrus bent to the side, quietly discussing something with Nathyn and the other Elders within earshot.
Davian bit back a scowl. The ongoing battle to extract even small amounts of information from the man—from any of the Shen Council, for that matter—was a constant reminder of just how little respect he and Ishelle were afforded here.
Eventually, Elder Dain straightened again.
“Someone was seen skulking around Central a few hours ago, just before dawn. When the men on duty spotted them, the intruder just … disappeared. Vanished from right in front of the patrol.” He gave them a pointed look.
Davian exchanged another glance with Ishelle, but he could see from her expression that she was as surprised as he. “You’re sure they weren’t mistaken?”
“Three men swear they saw the same thing.” Lyrus shrugged. “I’m not accusing either of you of anything”—he paused, his tone indicating that wasn’t entirely true—“but if it was one of you, now’s the time to tell us. There will be no consequences if you admit it straight away, of your own free will.”
“We’ve respected the rules and kept to the Inner and Outer Wards since we got here,” Davian assured the Elder, unable to completely hide his exasperation at the suggestion. “And we’re well aware that Central is off-limits without an escort. It wasn’t us.” He said the words with confidence, refusing to give Ishelle the querying look that he wanted to. He didn’t think she would have gone exploring—not without at least mentioning the idea to him first, anyway—but it wasn’t something he couldn’t imagine her doing.
Lyrus sighed. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “I believe you.”
Davian ignored the suggestion in Lyrus’s tone that he had few alternatives. “Good.” He kept speaking, not giving the Elder a chance to dismiss them. “Has there been any news from the Boundary?”
Lyrus frowned down at Davian for a moment, then shook his head impatiently. “No, Augur Davian. The same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. The Boundary, as far as we know, is still stable.” He held up a hand as Davian opened his mouth to argue. “Undoubtedly decaying, else the Blind would never have been able to get through. But there have been no reports of further breaches, and we have certainly received no word of any other … threat
s. No monsters that need slaying just yet.”
The last was met with a quiet ripple of laughter from the balcony, and Davian reddened.
His reaction wasn’t just from this one ill-concealed mockery. After Ilin Illan, Tol Shen—along with everyone else—had finally accepted that the Boundary needed sealing; in fact, it was the entire reason the Augur Amnesty existed. The destruction in the capital had left everyone on edge about what further forces might be waiting in Talan Gol.
Yet. From the moment Davian had tried to bring up Devaed, or dar’gaithin, or Alchesh’s visions … it had always ended like this. Despite their unusual armor, despite what had happened at Ilin Illan, everyone seemed intent on reassuring themselves that the Blind had been only men. That the threat from the north was ultimately coming from the descendants of the original northern Andarrans, trapped behind the Boundary two thousand years ago. It was a story that had caught on fast—something that was identifiable, quantifiable, easy to grasp for everyone involved.
After everything Davian had been through, he knew there was more to it—and yet no one seemed willing to listen. Aarkein Devaed and his Banes remained a dark legend from a disproven religion, while Alchesh was still just a mad Augur whose foretellings had been proven false centuries ago.
Davian knew, deep down, that he should just let the Shen Council’s disbelief go. He’d managed to for the past week. A few months ago, he probably would have kept doing so.
But things had changed. He’d changed. He just didn’t have the patience for this … narrow-mindedness.
“So when the Assembly’s envoy comes to check on our progress, I assume I can tell them that you said that?” he asked, ignoring Ishelle’s warning look. It didn’t take a particularly sharp mind to know that Tol Shen would be doing the opposite of this in the Assembly—playing up the Boundary’s weakness and their own role in training the Augurs to fix it, in order to solidify their political position in the capital.
An Echo of Things to Come Page 4