“Everything I do, everything I have done, is to protect you…” Her mouth tightened and she caught herself. “I work for the greater good of this province. There must be some of us who will protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
The One’s ways were mysterious, for Foley could not help his laughter, though it was a bitter, fragmented sound. “Protect? Is that what you think you do?”
“That is what I know I do.”
He shook his head. “Then you are a foolish girl, Talaséa.”
“That girl is dead.” She turned to leave.
The flame of anger had extinguished, leaving him cold and dark as an empty hearth. Alone. Just as Talon made to cross the threshold, Foley caught her armored elbow. She froze.
“Aye,” he said when she did not look at him. “She was killed by a sentinel.”
Now the commander turned, pinning him with eyes as black as a crow’s wing. “What’s done is done. I have made my choice.”
And his daughter was gone.
*
Word spread quickly through the bastion. Barely an hour after Foley’s meeting with his daughter, he stood with the others outside the dormitories, watching the sentinels retreat. The armored figures weren’t gone, of course. Squads now patrolled the top of the bastion wall on a regular basis, and the patrols within the bastion itself were more frequent than they’d ever been. Even as one squad left, after having spent all night standing guard outside the mage dormitories, another entered the gates to start their patrol.
After being trapped for three days, most of the mages chose to spend the day outside, despite the intermittent cold rain. Foley was not immune from this desire. He dressed in his warmest cloak, prepared a mug of his favorite tea, and slipped to his garden. Among the quiet sleep of plants bedded down for winter, he found a measure of peace. But he could not remain here forever. He had work to do.
He made his way to the bastion’s chicken coop, the one Eris had always tended. Aside from the chickens, the bastion housed a few goats used for milk and the transportation of goods. Most of the bastion’s perishables—like meat—were brought in from the city, paid for by the mages’ output of valuable glass or healing abilities.
Someone had beaten him to the coop. Foley recognized Kalinda Halcyon’s cloak: indigo that faded to pale blue at the hood. She stood just outside the fence, tossing handfuls of grains and seeds to the rust and white speckled hens that clustered together. As Foley approached, he said her name, but as was her fashion, she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Only when he was beside her did she spot him, and all but jumped out of her cloak in surprise.
“Foley!”
“Good morning, Kalinda,” he said, smiling.
Color rose to her cheeks and she smiled back. “‘Morning. I can’t quite say it’s ‘good,’ though.”
He chuckled. “Nor, I suppose, should I.” He gestured to the hens, bustling near Kalinda’s boots. “They appreciate your efforts, at least.”
“I wasn’t sure if anyone was feeding them while we were…” She didn’t finish the thought.
“That’s kind of you,” he said. “And it helps me a great deal. Would you mind tending them from now on?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Thank you. With our numbers reduced to nearly half, I’m afraid everyone will have to work a bit harder to keep life going normally.”
Kalinda looked back at the chickens as she tossed another handful of feed. “If it ever was normal to begin with.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Foley spotted a sentinel squad approaching. If Kalinda noticed, she did not react other than to sprinkle more grain among the hens.
“Not the kitchens,” she said suddenly, making him look back at her. At his frown of confusion, she added, “Don’t make me work in the kitchens. You’ll regret it.”
“How so?”
“The cooks back at Starwatch banned me from the kitchen after one too many burned pies. And there may have been an…incident with a week’s worth of potatoes that wound up charred…and on the roof.”
Foley lifted a brow. “So they banned you with good cause.”
“No, I’m just a casualty of circumstance,” she replied as the sentinels drew closer.
He chuckled, but could no longer ignore the sentinels’ presences. Despite being a mage, the sight of their weapons had never bothered him as much as it did now. The squad passed Gideon’s grave; Foley noted how each sentinel glanced at the mound of earth, but no one paused. His stomach turned and the collar felt even tighter around his neck. What he would give for it to be gone!
“I keep thinking about Eris,” Kalinda said. All the feed she had brought was scattered on the ground and she clutched the empty sack with white knuckles. “I hope she’s alive. You didn’t hear anything else, did you?”
“No,” he said. “But she’s…resourceful. I’m sure she’s fine.” He knew that bitterness tinged his words, but he didn’t care. “More so than we are.”
Kalinda looked up at him, though her gaze immediately flickered over his shoulder to follow the sentinels’ progress. Her own leather collar moved with her quickened breath. “We’re alive,” she said. “That’s more than some can say.”
“There are worse fates than death.”
“You sound like Eris.”
This stung more than it should have, and he frowned at the girl. “Eris and her friends made their choice and left us to deal with the repercussions.”
“Aye, but Eris did what she thought was right,” Kalinda said. “I don’t blame her.”
“Would you have left, too?”
She stared at him, and then looked at the bastion gates. “What are we going to do about Gideon?”
This caught Foley off guard. “What is there to be done?”
“I don’t know.” She toyed with the collar around her neck. “But he deserves better.”
“I’m afraid we have no other choice but to accept Commander Talon’s judgment.” How he hated to shape the words, but they were truth.
The sound of boots on the hard ground was clearer now that the sentinels were only about ten yards away. The sentinels didn’t march, but still strode with grace and precision. Every movement revealed years of training with the weapons they bore. They are our enemies. Foley had believed that every day of his life; he believed it now, although he didn’t want to. But even his daughter could not erase a lifetime of perception.
Kalinda watched them, hope clear on her face as the squad approached. When they drew closer, however, her shoulders sank. Foley studied her, mindful of his and Talon’s conversation that morning, and when Kalinda noticed his attention, her expression shifted to neutrality.
After the sentinels had passed, Foley cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “You still love him, don’t you?”
Dark eyes widened, but only briefly before they fixed upon him. “Why would I, after what he did to me?”
Stars and moons, she was a dreadful liar, but Foley played along. “Good. He would have brought you nothing but trouble.”
“He already has,” she replied, twisting the sack in her hand. “I can hardly believe how foolish I was.”
Odd. She sounded quite sure of herself, more so than if she was dissembling. Foley considered questioning her further about the sergeant, but found that he, like his daughter, had more important matters weighing on his mind. Let it go, for now, he told himself. So he kept his voice gentle. “We are all foolish, sometimes. The trick is not to let anyone else suffer because of it.” When she did not reply other than to nod, he gestured back to the dormitories. “I had an opportunity to organize my books, at least. I found my copy of Artéa Arvad’s journal. Did you still want to–”
“Yes,” she interjected, nodding eagerly. “I’d love to read it. Thank you.” After making the arrangements, she turned out the linen sack to be sure it was empty. “All done. I suppose I’d best find some other way to be useful.”
Eight
As Talon guided her m
ount down the road toward Whitewater City’s outer gates, her armor weighed on her more than it ever had. The quiet clop of hooves sounded behind her, but none of the sentinels accompanying her had spoken more than a handful of words since they had stopped their search for the night. Even now, more sentinel squads ranged farther afield, scouring the province for any sign of the mages, but Talon held little hope. Five days had passed since Heartfire with not one escaped mage sighted since. If the sentinels had not found the mages by now, chances were they never would. Five days was plenty of time for the magic-users to get a damned good head start.
Gone, too, was the hope of a quick resolution to this dilemma. Thank the One she still had the renegade mage in the garrison’s cells. Without him, she did not want to think what Argent would do to those left in the bastion.
The chill had already seeped through Talon’s gear and numbed every patch of exposed skin. Longings for a warm bath and a mug of tea vied for attention, but she could allow neither to gain dominance. Whitewater City stood silhouetted in twilight as the last pale hints of the sun eased beneath a veil of inky blue. Waning Seren had set some time ago, but Atal, little more than a curved sliver, brushed the distant mountains as the moon descended to the horizon. A distant rush of water announced the White River, although Talon could not yet see the bridge that spanned it.
“Commander.” Talon glanced beside her to see Sergeant Stonewall guiding his dapple-gray mare closer. Rook, his scout, rode on his other side, while the rest of his squad trailed several horse lengths behind them. At Talon’s look, both Stonewall and his squad-mate straightened in their saddles, but only the officer spoke again in his lilting, southern accent. “May I have a word with you, ser?”
“You may,” she replied.
His horse fell in step with her own mount, a sturdy chestnut mare, and for a few moments, the horses walked side by side while the sergeant seemed to consider his words. Talon rolled her eyes beneath her helmet. “Just spit it out, Sergeant,” she said at last. “None of us are getting any younger.”
“Have you read my report on Parsa, ser?” he replied.
“I have.” Talon cast him a sideways glance. “The Circle sent a contingent of local guards to verify your story.”
Light-brown eyes widened beneath his helmet. “What did they find?”
She fought the urge to shudder. “Only the dead remained at Parsa.”
Stonewall lowered his head and murmured a quiet prayer, adding, “I feared as much. I hoped otherwise, but…” He trailed off and looked back at her. “Did anyone…recover the bodies of those villagers in the forest?”
“Aye. Everyone who called Parsa home has been sent to their next lives.” Talon exhaled a stream of fog. “It was a grim scene, by all accounts.”
“It was. But something good came out of it. One of the mages believes–”
“She can cure a thrall,” she interrupted. “Yes, I know what you reported.”
Stonewall shifted, his saddle creaking. “With respect, ser, I only see one solution. We must allow the mages to try. If they succeed, we could put a stop to this evil taking over our country.”
The sentinels approached a curve in the road, the forest closing in on either side, blocking the view of Whitewater City. Once they passed the bend, the trees would recede enough to allow the city to show itself. Soon, they would be home. The knowledge brought little comfort. “A noble desire, Stonewall,” Talon said. “But self-serving, too.”
They passed the curve in the road and Whitewater City rose into view once more. The river’s roar was clearer now and the lanterns on the bridge ahead glowed like yellow stars. Talon kept her gaze forward but still heard the frown in Stonewall’s voice. “Ser?”
“The mage who believes she can cure the thralls is Kalinda Halcyon. Right?”
He was silent.
Idiot, she wanted to snap. You think you can keep your heart from me? But a glance at Rook, who rode in earshot, kept Talon’s reply less forceful than she would have liked. “Did you forget our discussion?”
“No,” he shot back, with a vehemence that startled her. “I haven’t forgotten our discussion, Commander. Nor could I if I wanted to.”
Rook cleared her throat, and the sergeant’s next words were more measured. “My…history with Kalinda—Mage Halcyon—aside, she attempted an act of magic that could save many innocent lives. Add that to the fact that the Cipher we found wore enough hematite to outfit my entire squad, and I don’t see how anyone can blame this mess on the mages. We’re their custodians; it’s our duty to see this through.”
Talon stared at him, struck by the defiant set of his jaw and the conviction glinting in his eyes. Both were familiar, but not just because she had seen them in his face before. Another face came to her mind’s eye and her heart skidded to a halt when she realized the renegade mage in the garrison had worn that exact same expression when she had questioned him.
The two men were connected somehow, most likely by blood. But did Stonewall know it? He had never mentioned any relatives, so she had assumed he, like many sentinels, was alone in the One’s world. Another thought coiled like a snake in her belly. Had Stonewall known about the mage escape? Had he taken part, somehow? Perhaps he’d meant to run away with his mage lover. Perhaps they had meant to flee from Parsa together, but the thralls had changed their plans.
Stonewall was a fool to throw in his lot with a mage, but he was an even bigger one to have returned here. Unless he knew the man in the garrison’s hematite cell and was biding his time.
There was only one way to find out.
“Commander.” He spoke a hair too harshly and gave her that same defiant look as he pulled her from her thoughts. “Will you report our theory to High Commander Argent, ser?”
Our theory? Did he mean his and Halcyon’s? Did he dare say such a thing to her face? To hide how her hands shook with fury, she smoothed an errant strand of her horse’s chestnut mane. “Get back to your squad,” she said to him and Rook, not bothering to answer his question. “And not another word on the subject, unless you want three more months of stable duty.”
Stonewall stared at her, his hands tightening around the reins, until Rook murmured his name. His jaw clenched but he nodded once and eased his mount away from Talon’s to fall back to his squad. Rook offered a modified salute from her saddle: one hand crossed before her chest, bowing at the waist, then drew her mount back as well. Talon faced forward once more. Another bitter wind blew, and she was glad of the chill that swept through her anger.
*
Night had fallen in earnest by the time they reached the outer gates. As the city guards approached, Talon drew her mount up and signaled the others to do the same. Such checkpoints were tiresome, but necessary given the recent mage activity.
“Well met, Lieutenant Faircloth,” she said to the officer.
He saluted her, bending sharply at the waist. When he straightened, she bit back a grimace at the bright red slashes around his nose and mouth, along with the hints of burn scars. Gideon Echina had given him those burn scars, and a crow—perhaps Eris Echina—had doled out the scabbing scratches. But Ballard Faircloth had repaid the debt – and then some. “Good evening to you, Commander,” he said with a nod. “Any luck, if I may ask?”
Talon shook her head.
Lieutenant Faircloth’s mouth thinned as he gestured to the gate guards behind him. “Turns my guts to ice, thinking of those moon-bloods running wild out there, doing Atal knows what.”
“Rest assured,” Talon said with more conviction than she felt. “We will find them, and soon.”
“Of course, serla,” the lieutenant replied – without a trace of sarcasm. Talon made to urge her mount forward, past the gates and onto the bridge, when Lieutenant Faircloth called to her once more. When Talon looked down at him, he glanced around as if to ensure he wasn’t being overheard. “We got wind of Parsa today. While you and your sentinels were out searching.”
Talon resisted the urge to sink back in
her saddle. “Aye, it’s a dreadful business, but we’re–”
“Forgive me, Commander,” he broke in, wincing. “But I mean to say that everyone in the city now knows what happened. And most folks’ feelings on the matter are...unfavorable.”
Talon regarded him. “What are you saying?”
“Take care, serla. Me and my fellows know your sentinels did their best, but the civilians…” Faircloth sighed again. “Well, they’re scared. And angry. Lots of folks had kin up in Parsa, you understand. Lots of folks are upset – with you. We’ve busted up more ruthless deals than usual, but three more crop up for every one. Ea only knows where they’re getting hematite.”
Ruthless. Talon had never cared for the civilian term for hematite; now it seemed particularly crass. “Non-sentinels are likely to die from eating it.”
“Some have,” Faircloth said. “But some folks will do anything to keep their families safe.”
Her stomach flipped but she kept her voice cool. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’ve kept faith with the sentinels, Commander. My sister’s pregnant with her first child and I fear what sort of world the babe could be born into if mages run free. I know firsthand what vile creatures you guard us all against. But regular folks don’t understand. They believe wild mages are creating the thralls.”
Talon considered Stonewall’s report of the Cipher priestess who’d been dripping with hematite. Someone had done magic on the woman, regardless of the dispelling stone’s presence. The thought was beyond frightening, but Talon saw no reason to start a panic.
“Wild mages do exist, it’s true,” she admitted. “And if we weren’t so focused on retrieving those who escaped during Heartfire, we’d be looking for those renegades.”
“Of course, serla,” the guard replied. “But you should know…folks are whispering that your sentinels killed those villagers to hide all traces of renegade mages.”
She really shouldn’t continue this conversation, but something made her ask, “What possible reason would my sentinels have to kill innocent villagers?”
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