An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  “You think that the threat of the Boundary collapsing is nonsense?” Wirr closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He had to deal with these sorts of things within Administration all the time, but hearing the words from his mother felt worse by far. “So you would … what? Have things go back to the way they were? Should I be hunting down and killing my friend because he was born a certain—”

  “Yes, Torin!” Geladra’s frustration was on full display now, too. “You can’t be making decisions based around your friendships—that’s not what being a leader means! These people are dangerous. Do you think that the war started because everyone simply disliked them? Because they were jealous? People gave their lives to remove them from power. Your father risked everything to do it. And now you’re just … holding the door open for them. You spit on his memory by acting the way you have been.”

  Wirr stared at her, pale, stunned by the outburst. Geladra had always been against the Gifted and the Augurs—it was one of the reasons she had fit so well with his father—but this was something else. There was raw anger in her tone.

  He said nothing for several long seconds, trying to regain his composure. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, wasn’t what he’d envisaged at all when he had decided to come here. He could continue to argue but it was clear that the conversation had degenerated into insults. If he kept talking, he was only going to say something that he would later regret.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said as calmly as he could. “I’m going for a walk. After that … I think perhaps I should leave.”

  He paused to let his mother protest but when she didn’t, he nodded to Andyn and walked out without another word, ignoring the looming stare of Markus as he passed.

  The grounds were well lit by lanterns, despite the late hour.

  Wirr wandered, lost in memory, trailed a short but respectful distance by Andyn. Though an occasional liveried guard patrolled nearby, the men his mother had hired had not bothered to follow him out here, which was a relief. The gardens hadn’t really changed over the past few years; he still comfortably knew his way through them, still knew exactly what to expect when he rounded a corner. The opposite of what he’d just been through with his mother, in a way.

  He eventually sat on a bench, then glanced up at Andyn and gestured wearily to the seat next to him.

  Andyn shook his head. “I may not have found anyone earlier, Sire, but there were fresh tracks. If someone’s been following us, this would be the perfect spot to attack. Lots of cover, far enough away from the rest of the guards …”

  “Honestly, Andyn? I’m almost tempted to let them at the moment.”

  Andyn’s expression didn’t change. “I’m fairly certain that would make me unpopular, Sire. And bad at my job. I’ll stay where I am.”

  “Good to know that you’re doing it for the right reasons,” said Wirr, allowing himself a small smile. “Now if you’d only—”

  “Sire.” Andyn whispered the word, suddenly stock-still. He placed his hand on his sword, peering into the bushes to Wirr’s left.

  Wirr snorted. “Really?” He twisted, unconcerned, staring at the spot upon which Andyn’s gaze was fixed. When nothing happened, he shook his head in amusement. “Nice try, Andyn.”

  “You can come out,” said Andyn in a strong, clear voice. His sword was out of its sheath now. “I know you’re there. Come out, and I won’t kill you.”

  There was nothing for a few moments, and Wirr opened his mouth to chide Andyn again.

  Then two hands appeared from behind a bush, fingers outspread to show that they were not concealing anything. They were soon followed by a body, hard to see in the dim light, edging slowly toward them.

  Wirr sprang to his feet, heart suddenly thumping in his chest.

  “That’s close enough,” said Andyn calmly.

  “I am not here to hurt anyone. I wish only to talk.” The voice was a woman’s, familiar to Wirr, though he couldn’t immediately place from where. He squinted at the stranger, trying to make out her features.

  “Then you may want to think about working on your social skills,” observed Andyn tightly. “Most people don’t need the element of surprise to start a conversation.”

  The woman laughed, low and soft, though the sound was as full of desperation as amusement. “Special circumstances,” she replied. She shifted, stepping sideways so that the nearest lamp illuminated her face more clearly.

  “Hello, gaa’vesh,” the woman—little older than Wirr himself—said with a tired smile.

  Wirr stared at her for a few moments, not sure that he could believe what his eyes were telling him. The woman’s hair was short now, dyed black, but it didn’t prevent him from recognizing her immediately.

  Eventually he nodded back, though he didn’t feel any less wary.

  “Hello, Breshada,” he said quietly, taking a half step back as Andyn positioned himself between them.

  “You know this woman, Sire?” Andyn asked casually, never taking his eyes from the Desrielite.

  “Yes.” Wirr noticed Andyn’s muscles relax slightly. “She’s a Hunter.” He nearly chuckled as the muscles tensed up again. “And she saved my life back in Desriel. Though I never really knew why.”

  Andyn’s posture had changed enough times during the course of Wirr’s explanation that he eventually gave up, scowling. “Is she a friend?”

  Wirr grunted. “Breshada?”

  “I am not here to kill you,” Breshada said, making the statement sound like an act of generosity. She glanced coolly at Andyn. “If I were, you would both already be dead.”

  “I don’t think I like her, Sire,” said Andyn quietly. Wirr noticed that he hadn’t sheathed his sword. “Perhaps it would be best to disarm her before we go any further?”

  Breshada’s face darkened. “Try to take Whisper, and—”

  “Stop.” Wirr heard the exasperation in his own tone, but he didn’t care. “Breshada, keep your sword, but stay where you are. Andyn, don’t start anything unless she does first.” He turned to Breshada, ignoring the outraged stares of both her and his bodyguard. “Why in all fates are you here, Breshada? What’s going on? How did you find me?”

  Breshada stared defiantly at Andyn for a few more moments, then wilted.

  “It is something of a long story. But the truth … I am in need of your assistance.” She said the last as if it were the most distasteful thing that she could imagine. “I was following Ambassador Thurin, and I saw you. Recognized you, eventually—we had heard about the prince returning but I had not thought …”

  She faltered. To Wirr’s surprise, her hands began to tremble and she sat abruptly on the bench, abandoning any pretense at bravado. “I have been cursed, Prince Torin.”

  “Cursed?” Wirr exchanged a confused look with Andyn.

  Breshada’s face twisted and she drew up her left sleeve to reveal the black tattoo, barely visible in the lamplight.

  “I am like you,” she whispered. “I am gaa’vesh.”

  Chapter 17

  Davian stiffened as he came awake, suddenly aware that he was no longer alone.

  He rolled onto his side, flinching as he saw Ishelle sitting across from him against the smooth white wall of the cell, watching him silently. He quickly levered himself into an upright position.

  “Why are you here?”

  Ishelle grimaced, the emotion of the expression not hard to recognize.

  She was ashamed.

  “Rohin threw me in here because he didn’t trust me after I …” She sighed, then gave an awkward shrug. “His ability must not work in here, because I started to realize what was going on as soon as he shut that door.” She swallowed. “Davian, I … I’m sorry. You know I would never—”

  “I know.” Davian gave her a reassuring smile.

  Ishelle released a long breath, inclining her head gratefully.

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked eventually. “You could have.”

  Davian stared at the ground, debating
how honestly to reply. He’d had plenty of time to ponder that same question in the long, silent hours after Rohin’s visit. It was actually the first opportunity he’d had to slow down, to actually think about everything that had happened, in a while. He hadn’t had the chance since Ilin Illan, certainly. Not really since Deilannis.

  It had been hard to do.

  There had been a maelstrom of emotions sitting just beneath the surface for far too long now—things that he’d forced down, deliberately ignored in favor of focusing on what needed to be done. With everything that had demanded his attention recently, it had always been too exhausting, too intimidating to properly sift through those feelings.

  “I’ve killed people before.” He said the words hesitantly, hating to admit it even to himself, though it was hardly a secret. “In Desriel. In Ilin Illan. Not just the Blind, either.” Even at my wedding he couldn’t help but add silently; Malshash’s memory still felt all too personal. “I was going to do it. I was going to take his life. And then I realized …” He shivered.

  Ishelle frowned. “What?”

  “That I thought that it was a choice.” Davian swallowed. “That I was thinking about it in terms of odds. A higher chance of escaping, and all I had to do was end him.” He shook his head, eyes wide as he said the words. Out loud, they sounded even more horrible. “Who thinks like that? I’m comfortable with it, Ishelle. It’s like … it’s like I used to be afraid of heights. Then one day Asha decided that she liked the view from the west wall of the school. After a few times of forcing myself to go up there I just …”

  “Got used to it,” said Ishelle quietly.

  “It didn’t bother me anymore,” agreed Davian. “Not anywhere near as much as it had, anyway.” He shrugged. “And in that moment, when I realized, I just … I couldn’t. It made me sick that I considered it an option. I feel like … like I’ve lost my way, recently. Morally speaking. Like I’ve become someone I would have been terrified of a year ago.” He was surprised to find himself saying it all out loud, especially to Ishelle. But the time alone had compelled him to confront these things, and talking about it felt … right.

  Ishelle was silent for a few seconds.

  “What you’re describing, though—isn’t that what being moral is? It shouldn’t be about how you feel, it should be about what you do.” She looked at him steadily. “I don’t know, Davian. I think people can adapt to a lot of things, and sometimes we just … shut off the part of us that knows, deep down, what’s right and wrong. But you didn’t do that.” She smiled at him, something inscrutable in her expression. “Honestly, that probably makes you better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Davian stared at her for a long moment.

  Then, despite himself, he grinned.

  Ishelle flushed at his amusement. “I’m serious.”

  “I know,” said Davian quickly. He shook his head, still smiling. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you be serious before. It’s weird.”

  Ishelle snorted, then walked over to where he was sitting against the wall and slid down next to him.

  “I really am sorry, you know,” she said awkwardly.

  Davian shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said firmly. “He was Controlling you.”

  “Except it’s not Control.”

  Davian frowned. “How do you mean?”

  “It’s more … subtle, I suppose. He says something, and your mind adapts to it. It’s not like someone else is doing the thinking for you, and you have no say over it. He says to do something, and you … you justify it to yourself.”

  Davian thought for a moment.

  “That’s still Control,” he eventually said gently. “More insidious, maybe, but he’s still making you act in a way that you wouldn’t normally. Any guilt lies with him, not you.”

  Ishelle nodded, but it was a halfhearted agreement.

  “Well. At least you couldn’t justify killing me,” Davian observed brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

  Ishelle, though, didn’t smile. “But I could. I did. What I said to Rohin about leaving you in here was the truth.” She hesitated. “The thing is … I started thinking about how you’ve been obsessing over that girl in Ilin Illan. About how she doesn’t have anything I don’t have except a thousand miles of distance, and yet you act as if you’re married to her. I just had to think about how frustrating that is, and …”

  Ishelle looked across at him, eyes meeting his, and Davian’s smile faded.

  She wasn’t joking. Her face was only inches from his.

  Davian swallowed. Did Ishelle really have those sorts of feelings for him? She was beautiful, and he wasn’t immune to that fact—nor to her suddenly disconcerting proximity.

  But she wasn’t Asha.

  He deliberately turned, facing forward again.

  “She’s my best friend.” He said the words quietly, almost surprised to hear them coming out of his mouth. “She’s my best friend, and I’m in love with her. That’s what she has, Ishelle.”

  There was silence and then Ishelle was standing abruptly, facing away from him. For an uncomfortable moment, Davian thought that she was crying.

  “You do know how to kill the mood,” she said, and to his surprise the cheerfulness in her tone didn’t sound forced. When she turned back to him, her usual bright smile was in place, with no trace of disappointment or embarrassment. “So how are we getting out of here?”

  Davian said nothing for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. It seemed odd to just leave it at that, and yet it was obvious that Ishelle didn’t want to talk about it any further. Perhaps, at least right now, that was for the best.

  “I haven’t figured that one out yet,” he admitted.

  “So there’s no rescue on the way, then?” Ishelle rubbed the back of her neck, meeting his gaze worriedly. “What about the Augur that you were looking for in Prythe?”

  Davian opened his mouth to tell her about Erran and Fessi, then hesitated.

  If the other empty cells he’d seen in the hall outside were the same as this one, it was odd that Ishelle had been put into Davian’s. And her behavior since she’d been in here with him had been … strange. She’d always flirted with him, but that was in her nature—she did the same with plenty of others. The serious conversation, the heartfelt revelation … it all felt off.

  His heart sank. He couldn’t see if she was actually lying without access to kan, but it didn’t feel like the real her.

  “No,” he said quietly. “If there really was an Augur following me in Prythe, they were good at staying hidden.”

  Ishelle just nodded, though there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Whether it was from the lack of imminent rescue or her inability to gain information from him, he had no idea.

  They tried a while longer to think of a way out, but soon enough Davian’s eyelids began to droop again. Though the makeshift store of Essence he’d been able to gather was still working, it didn’t give him a great deal of energy. And despite Ishelle now being in the room with him, he couldn’t draw from her without access to kan.

  Eventually, he slept.

  When he awoke, it was to the sound of the cell door swinging open.

  He leaped to his feet, relief loosening his constricted chest when he saw Fessi standing outside.

  He glanced around. He was alone in the cell.

  “Time to go,” Fessi said encouragingly, beckoning, clearly not wanting to step inside. Davian stumbled over to the doorway, keeping one hand on the wall but getting stronger with each step. By the time he exited the cell, he was able to walk without the need for support.

  “I can see why you and Asha make such a good pair,” Fessi murmured. She glanced with distaste at the cell. “I shudder to think of what kind of trouble I’d have to get you out of if you two were together, though.”

  Davian gave her a wry look, relieved enough to enjoy the moment of levity.

  “Good to see you,” he said softly, breathing deepl
y as his sense of kan returned, funnelling Essence into his body. He put his back against the wall as he recovered, noting that they were alone in the wide white hall. “Is Ishelle with you?”

  “The other Augur?” Fessi shook her head. “I haven’t seen her. As far as I can tell, you’re the only one down here.” She put her hand on Davian’s arm, and there was an abrupt shift as time bent around them. “Now. What in fates is going on out there? We tried Reading people to find out where you were—unsuccessfully—but it was like everyone had this … thick, liquid kan over their minds. A kind of black sludge that was seeping into their thoughts.” She shuddered. “I know that sounds strange, but I can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

  Davian winced at the description, then quickly filled Fessi in on what he knew about Rohin. “What you saw must be how his influence stays active for so long,” he concluded grimly. “I’m immune because of my ability, but I don’t think anyone else is.”

  Fessi gave a thoughtful nod. “We’ll have to figure out how to deal with that once we’re out of here.”

  Davian glanced around at the row of cells that lined the hall, frowning as he took in the inscription-covered archway at the far end. Beyond the opening, he could now see another door, this one twice as tall and wide as those elsewhere. “Where is here, exactly?”

  “We’re in the section of Central Archive that Erran and I couldn’t get into a few days ago. I’m guessing this is one of the reasons the Council didn’t want you knowing about it,” Fessi added with a dark look at the cells.

  Davian rubbed his forehead. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I didn’t,” admitted the other Augur. “I’ve been here for almost two hours, wandering around trying to find you. When I noticed the kan barrier was gone from outside, it seemed sensible to at least take a look.”

  Davian nodded slowly. “Rohin must have found out about these cells from the Council, then had them remove the barrier so that he could come and go as he pleased.”

  Fessi hesitated, glancing toward the archway. “Speaking of which. Now we’re here …”