“Tal’kamar,” he gasped. “Stop her.”
Caeden hesitated.
It took him only a second to make his decision; Asar had been trying to help over the past month, no matter what the woman said.
But in those few precious moments of doubt, the stranger acted.
Caeden found himself flying backward, the base of his skull slamming into the wall behind him. It was enough of an impact to leave him dazed; even as he recovered enough to grasp at Essence, he saw the woman reach Asar.
Saw her stretch down and draw Licanius from the scabbard at the older man’s waist, Asar powerless to stop her.
Saw her thrust forward with an almost disdainful motion, sliding the blade smoothly and carefully into Asar’s chest.
Caeden shouted, dashed forward desperately, but he knew it was too late. There was horror in Asar’s eyes as the blade went in.
Asar slumped to the ground, and everything stopped.
The silence was eerie as Caeden skidded to his knees beside the older man, ignoring the woman standing over them. Asar’s head lolled limply as Caeden shook him, then tried to put pressure on the wound as it pumped heart’s blood onto the floor.
“You’ll be all right,” he muttered as he pressed desperately downward, ignoring the hot, sticky liquid spurting between his fingers. “You’re like me. You’ll be all right.”
“He won’t. He is dead, Tal.” The woman was breathing hard and flushed, as if herself surprised. She tossed Licanius to the ground beside Caeden. “Make certain no one ever takes that from you again.” She turned her back on him and began studying the room, as if deliberately indicating how little a threat she considered him to be. Whether it was arrogance or an attempt to convince him that she trusted him, Caeden wasn’t sure.
The Portal Box, Tal’kamar. Use it. Get Licanius and get out of here.
Caeden almost made a sound, so startled was he by Asar’s voice in his head. He glanced down at the man in his arms, but the body hadn’t moved.
“You need to listen to me now,” the woman continued, still a little breathless as she examined their surroundings, oblivious. “Your plan doesn’t work without Asar—but I know how to fix that, and keep you alive and free. I have spent the last twenty years making sure it is possible. Even after what you did to me.” There was a tremor to her voice, and it suddenly occurred to Caeden that she might not be trying to prove a point by facing away from him. The woman simply didn’t want to meet his gaze.
She was nervous.
She is not your wife, Tal’kamar. I don’t know how she has become so powerful, but do not trust her. Never trust her. The voice was weak, but insistent.
Caeden looked back over at the stranger again and felt his jaw clench.
Then he slipped his hand into his pocket, drew out the Portal Box. Closed his eyes and funneled Essence into the next face in sequence.
With a roar, the vortex of fire sprang to life.
The woman whirled at the sound, eyes widening, but whatever she said was lost to the thunder. Caeden dove for Licanius, snatched it up and set off for the tunnel.
An impossible blast of Essence caught him again, pinned him to the spot.
“There is no point in running, Tal!” The stranger’s voice barely carried to him, but he caught the words this time. “You cannot stop them without the Siphon!”
Caeden reached for kan through Licanius; with the blade in his grasp, he should have easily been able to manipulate enough of the dark energy to absorb the pulsing white torrent holding him in place.
Nothing happened.
Before Caeden could panic at his failure, the woman was suddenly stumbling and then slipping to her knees, eyes wide as she took in Asar’s hand around her ankle. The white-bearded man was weak, though. Caeden could see that he was doing all he could.
The Essence vanished from around Caeden.
Asar locked eyes with him, and his expression pleaded with him to flee.
Caeden ran.
As he passed, he grabbed one of Asar’s arms and strengthened his own body with Essence. He knew the action was futile, that the motion alone would probably finish the wounded man. But he couldn’t leave him alone to face … whoever she was.
With a mighty heave, he threw Asar through the portal, then leaped after him.
“No!” The scream was desperate, somehow heartrending. “Tal, no! It’s taken me so—”
The portal closed behind them.
Gasping and cold from shock, Caeden forced himself to focus and scrambled over to where Asar lay. The man’s skin was ashen and his breathing shallow. He may have survived longer than a normal person would have against such a wound, but his time was clearly drawing to a close.
Caeden hurriedly tapped into his Reserve once more, pressing his hands against Asar’s chest and letting the energy flow into the older man’s body.
Nothing happened.
“Stop,” rasped Asar, his tone resigned rather than urgent.
“Why aren’t you healing?” Caeden asked desperately after a few moments, sitting back helplessly. “What can I do?”
Asar gave a wracking cough, which Caeden suspected was meant to be a laugh. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do for me now, Tal’kamar. She used Licanius.” He groaned. “I had no idea she had gained access to so much Essence. You did well. She has ever been a weight around your neck.”
“Who was she?” asked Caeden pensively. “She said she was …”
“She isn’t.” Asar’s voice was becoming quieter. “Forget about her, Tal’kamar. Caeden.” He grasped Caeden’s hand, the last of the light in his eyes dimming. “This will change things, but you must still focus on remembering. You sacrificed everything for this. Just … stay the course.” He gave Caeden a last grim smile. “Be the man you aspire to be, and this … this will all be worthwhile.”
He didn’t say anything after that. His breaths became slower and slower, more labored, until there was only silence.
Caeden sat there for a while, hands and shirt soaked in blood, dazed. Still not entirely certain whether he should be grieving for a friend, or lamenting an enormous mistake.
Finally he stood, shakily taking in his surroundings for the first time. The sun beat down viciously from overhead. There were a few lonely trees on the ridge to his right, but otherwise everything looked dry and cracked. Lifeless.
He turned to go, then paused.
The grave took him less time than he’d thought, once he put his ability with Essence to good use. It was a shallow one, but better than leaving Asar to whatever animals roamed these parts.
When he was done, Caeden straightened, giving the small, lonely mound a final glance.
“Be the man I aspire to be,” he murmured to himself.
He started walking.
Chapter 6
Davian sat at the edge of the fountain, staring pensively down the narrow street toward the pulsing blue peak of the Central Wall, for once barely noticing the concerned stares of the Gifted as they passed in an arc around him.
It was afternoon now, a couple of hours since the meeting with the Council. Though two men standing some distance away had clearly been assigned to keep watch over him, no one had actually approached to escort him out of Central Ward yet. He didn’t really know if that was a good sign or not.
He sighed. His reacting to Elder Dain like that hadn’t been a wise move … but he wasn’t sure that he regretted it, either. If he hadn’t drawn the line somewhere, the Council would have become increasingly difficult to deal with.
He glanced up as Ishelle slid onto the stone beside him; he’d been too deep in thought to notice her approach.
She stared at him for a moment, expression inscrutable. “So. What was that?”
“That was me losing my temper.” Davian rubbed his neck. “Sorry.”
“Sorry? Nonsense. It was magnificent.” Ishelle beamed at him. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m not sure any of the Elders back there did, either. If y
ou could have seen Elder Dain’s face when he realized who was standing behind him …” She snickered, grinning uncontrollably at the memory.
Davian couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face. “He did seem a bit startled.” He looked at her cautiously. “You don’t think I went too far?”
“Oh, you definitely went too far,” Ishelle assured him cheerfully. “I doubt Elder Dain has had anyone act like that toward him publicly since before the war. Maybe ever. He still looked half-confused when I left; there’s no way he’ll forgive you for that sort of defiance.” She shrugged. “But all it really means is that he’ll dislike us with marginally more intensity than before. Which hardly matters; you saw his reaction to what you said. He needs us as much as we need him. Given how they’ve been treating us, it was probably time to remind him that we know that.”
Davian inclined his head; Ishelle’s take on it was much the same as his own. He’d have preferred to keep the peace, but if this meant that the Council would take them more seriously, perhaps it had been worth it. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” said Ishelle, turning and locking eyes with a red-cloaked man hurrying toward them. The man had probably been asked to finally chaperone them from Central Ward, but his determined expression wilted under Ishelle’s steady gaze. He stuttered to a stop several feet away, inclining his head to indicate that he would wait. “So what do you think they’re hiding from us?”
Davian shook his head. “Something,” he agreed grimly. Lyrus had seemed genuinely concerned that they might have been here in Central Ward unsupervised, far more so than a simple breaking of the rules would account for. The gathering of so many Council members at once had only reinforced the impression that the issue was somehow important. “Honestly, though? I don’t really care. They can keep their fates-cursed secrets if they would just let us deal with the Boundary.”
“It will get better once Driscin’s back, you know.”
Davian glanced across at her. “You really trust him to change things?”
“I do.” Ishelle’s tone, for once, was entirely serious. “The rest of the Council will listen to him.” She looked at him for a moment, hesitating.
“He’s not Taeris,” she added softly.
Davian grunted, nodding a reluctant acknowledgment. He knew that some of his mistrust of the Elders—any Elder—was stemming from his discovery that Taeris had been lying to him since the moment they’d met. That the man had actually set up the encounter in Caladel three years earlier, in which Davian had been attacked, badly beaten and scarred.
To make matters worse, Ishelle hadn’t been able to tell Davian anything more than he already knew about that incident. She’d only been able to Read Taeris briefly in Thrindar, and so the reasons why the man had done what he had remained a mystery.
Ishelle studied Davian for a moment, then sighed. “Why don’t you spend some time in Prythe while I take the Augur interviews today?”
Davian came out of his reverie. “Really? Why?”
“It’s not as if being at the interviews is hard work; it’s literally sitting in a corner and Reading people.” Ishelle shrugged. “And I’m thinking the Elders might be a little more … relaxed if you weren’t there today.”
Davian snorted, acceding the point with a nod.
The interviews were part of their daily routine—sitting in and Reading anyone who was claiming sanctuary under the Amnesty. Some people did it to try to get the small monetary reward the Assembly had offered for coming forward as an Augur. Some showed up because they genuinely thought that they might have abilities—they’d had premonitions, or vivid dreams, or sometimes would swear that they “knew” what other people were thinking.
But a few always came with hidden weapons, too, intent on getting close enough to the Augurs to do them harm. None had come close to succeeding, of course, as Davian or Ishelle always Read their intentions long before they had the chance to act. It was still a far from pleasant task, though.
“As long as you’re sure, I suppose I could use some time away from this place,” he eventually conceded. “Thanks.” He glanced up at where he approximated the sun was hiding behind the clouds. “More training when I get back? Or should we try the library again?”
“Training, I think.” Ishelle nodded to herself cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of another chance at abject humiliation.”
Davian sighed. “Perhaps if we practice something other than Disruption shields …”
“It’s nothing to do with you losing. It’s the face you make when you concentrate.” She screwed up her features into as ugly a contortion as she could manage.
Davian stared at her for a moment, then felt the corners of his mouth curl upward as he shook his head in amusement.
It was a genuine smile and it felt good, a release from the pressure that had been building up since their meeting with the Council. He didn’t always feel comfortable around Ishelle, but it was times like this that he was grateful she was around. Having to deal with all of this by himself could easily have been a burden too heavy to bear.
They stood and started walking, their red-cloaked chaperone vanishing gratefully as soon as they reached the tunnel to Inner Ward. Once through, they headed straight for the nearest passage to Outer Ward.
Davian found himself gazing around in fascination as they strolled, still finding the differences between the wards remarkable. On the surface, Inner—where he and Ishelle had been housed, much to Ishelle’s ongoing irritation—looked similar to Central, but the atmosphere was distinctly different. The streets were busier, both in volume of people and how rushed those people looked as they went about their business. And whereas everyone in Central moved with a cool sense of superiority, most of those here just seemed … tired. Ishelle said that there was constant competition to move up to Central, and that underlying tension appeared to run through every glance and conversation.
“So has anybody recognized you?” Davian asked casually as they made their way through the streets.
Ishelle shook her head. “When I was here before, I mostly worked in the kitchens. Driscin did put me in Shadow classes for a couple of months, but even then I was just another Gifted student. It was easy enough to blend in.”
Davian nodded at that; Shen didn’t have any outlying schools like Tol Athian, so every one of their students boarded here. “Shadow classes?” he asked curiously.
“It’s what we called classes in the Outer Ward. One step away from—”
“I get it,” said Davian quickly. “So the classes are split up between Wards, too?”
“Same as everything else here. The students with the most potential live and take classes in Central. Those showing some promise live in Inner, and the rest …” She shrugged. “Most are in Outer. There’s a high turnover and the teachers there barely notice anyone who’s not distinguishing themselves enough to move up.”
Davian grunted, unsurprised. “Sounds awful.”
Ishelle shrugged again. “It’s effective. It means that those with potential actually strive to fulfill it. The teachers try to produce great students because when they do, it’s a chance for them to move up themselves. And the ones already in Central work hard to make sure that they’re not pushed back down. It’s not necessarily a system that encourages great friendships, I suppose, but it sure as fate makes everyone strive to be better.”
“Not awful at all, then. My mistake,” said Davian drily.
They kept walking, chatting quietly, eventually coming to the tunnel to Outer Ward. Once again they were let through with barely a second glance, though Davian noticed that the guards were fastidious in checking the bands of people going in the opposite direction. Worn around the right wrist, those bands were the primary indicator of where each Gifted belonged in the Tol—two bands meant access to Central, one to Inner, and none for those restricted to Outer Ward.
Davian adjusted the single band on his wrist irritably, still not accustome
d to it. In a lot of ways it reminded him of wearing a Shackle, despite his ability to take it off whenever he wanted to. The band was apparently linked to a small amount of his Essence, something called a Trace, which the Shen Council had insisted on taking from him when he’d arrived—meaning that he was the only one able to wear it. Anyone else putting on Davian’s band would do so at the expense of severe burns to their wrist.
Not that he had any intention of flouting the Tol’s rules and giving it away, anyway. The Council took the segregation of their wards very seriously; according to Ishelle, Gifted had been expelled for braving the pain of a stolen armband and sneaking into more central areas than they were allowed. For students, that punishment would have resulted in their being turned into Shadows.
“So you really don’t think Elder Dain will take any action over this morning?” he asked absently, following the train of thought.
Ishelle shook her head confidently. “No. We’re too valuable for that. Besides, you showed him up, but you didn’t really do anything wrong.” She glanced at him. “Did I ever tell you about the time I first met him?”
Davian shook his head.
Ishelle smirked. “Driscin had already been teaching me for about a year when he introduced us. Lyrus insisted on meeting with me one-on-one, so that he had a chance to really emphasize what I could and couldn’t do while I was at the Tol. He wanted to make sure that I understood what was expected of me. I think that he thought it would be intimidating for me.”
She shrugged. “I was learning Control, and he was taking forever to go through all the different things that I could be punished for. Driscin wasn’t around, and Lyrus’s shield was much weaker than he thought it was. So I figured I would … practice on him.”
Davian stared at her. “You practiced on Elder Dain?”
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