Brohmin surprised him by winking. “The Conclave.”
Jakob stumbled. “Then... you knew?”
“Not quite. It doesn’t work like that. I know Endric and Novan. I had to be sure you did too. We can talk later,” Brohmin said, shooting Salindra a strange look.
Salindra watched Brohmin silently, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown upon her face. There was a question hanging from her lips, yet it went unasked.
They ate the hares silently before remounting. Jakob was exhausted from the past few days and didn’t argue, yet even tired, the strange itch at the back of his mind was there. He could not suppress it as well in his exhaustion, but he didn’t bother to look around. Jakob knew he would see nothing.
They rode north and east, and the trees grew taller, growing higher into the sky with each passing mile. The light of the sun was slowly blocked until it was no longer visible. Eventually, Brohmin declared it was time to stop, and they dismounted. Nearly dark, Jakob climbed down from his saddle exhausted, rolling out his cloak to lie down. Brohmin strode out into the forest again, hunting, and Salindra wandered away with the water skins, leaving him alone.
The dark night was silent. There were no real sounds from the forest, and his tired eyes struggled to stay open, so he decided to sleep, hoping Brohmin would wake him to eat. He’d learned to survive without eating every day and knew one more night would not hurt him.
As he lay down, there was a crack of broken twigs. He looked up to see someone creeping toward him and only barely saw a dark blur swinging toward his forehead. It collided with him and the darkness of night overcame him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roelle looked over at Selton, waiting for his answer. They sat in Roelle’s room on plain, sturdy chairs, away from the small desk facing the wall covered with papers and books never read. Her friend was silent. “What did he mean?” Roelle asked again.
Selton looked up at her, concentration broken. His hazel eyes were thoughtful and piercing, so intelligent... and captivating. Selton had recently taken to wearing his hair shorter and it made his face seem more angular and broad. She’d known him as long as she’d been in the city, and they had been friends the entire time. “The Magi were founded by the Great Mother Isalilline Mailell. It was she who gathered the first seeds of our people and founded this city.”
Roelle sat silently, considering. It was the history even the youngest Mageborn knew of their people. The vision and forethought of the Great Mother was taught in their earliest years and was immortalized in many statues. “Endric meant something different, I am sure.”
“There’s nothing in the library, Roelle. I’ve searched.”
If any were to find it, it would be Selton. He’d spent many hours each day reading in the library. If not in the library, where could it be? “There has to be something there.”
“Sure,” Selton agreed. “For Elders of the Council only. I can’t access that section without severe consequences.”
Selton said the words lightly, but Roelle didn’t even want to consider the consequences. The Elders were fiercely protective of their section of the library and the texts contained within. Alriyn had once told her that there were secrets there not meant for younger eyes. “Alriyn won’t offer access to me, and Endric doesn’t give straight answers.” She looked up at Selton. “Who can we ask?”
Selton drummed his fingers on his leg. “The timing is interesting. Normally, I wouldn’t have any suggestions, but with Lendra having returned...”
“Who’s Lendra?”
“My cousin. She’s been out of the city for years, but returned to visit her parents.”
“Why her?”
“Her father is the chief historian,” Selton answered.
“Inilith?” Roelle asked. If they could get Inilith to help, that would give them access to more than they had otherwise. “I forgot he was your uncle.”
“By marriage,” Selton said. “Last I heard, Lendra had been studying in Coamdon. It’s not often she returns to the city, not being Mageborn and all.”
Roelle leaned back. It was more than they had. “Where can we find her?”
They found Lendra in the hall outside her rooms. She was not alone. A familiar figure stood nearby, covered in a long, flowing cloak and speaking quietly to her in hushed tones that didn’t carry down the hall as they approached. Tall, nearly as tall as any Mage, and thin, the historian still cut an imposing figure.
Lendra, though, was something else. She was of average height and slender, though it was not her height that caught Roelle’s attention. Her eyes were impossibly blue-green. A ring of yellow rimmed them, like petals on a flower. Her skin was a light brown, only a hint of a tan tickling it, bringing forth a few freckles. She was gowned in a simple white dress that glowed in the light of the afternoon.
She smiled at Selton as they approached and gave Roelle a smile nearly as wide. “Selton?” she said, and ran to him. She hugged him and laughed. The sound filled the corridor, echoing off the stone walls. “I’ve not seen you for...”
Selton returned her hug and her smile. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” He stepped to the side and motioned to Roelle. “This is my friend Roelle.”
She turned to Roelle and grasped her hand. Hers was smooth, soft silk, and warm. “Well met, Lendra,” she said. She turned to Novan. “Historian. I hope you’re settling well in the palace?”
Lendra gave a quick glance to Novan. “You know Novan?”
It was Novan who answered. “Mage Roelle was one of my escorts to the city. One of the more capable ones, I might add.”
Roelle smiled tightly. “The gods returned us safely.”
Novan grunted in reply and said nothing more.
“So you met my replacement?” Lendra asked Roelle.
She looked at her strangely. “Did I?”
She laughed again. She seemed to do so easily, and it put Roelle at ease. “I studied with Novan in Coamdon, before he moved on,” she said as she looked back at Novan. The historian smiled at her.
It was more emotion from him than Roelle had seen before. “I met the apprentice historian,” Roelle said, beginning to understand. “An interesting man. And excellent swordsman. I still would like to know why he left us.” She left off asking if Novan had heard about the Denraen that had been found slaughtered. That was for another, quieter time. And she tried to shield Selton from the heat that rose in her cheeks thinking of Jakob. It had to be his ability with the sword that appealed to her, didn’t it?
The historian’s face was unreadable. It was frustrating, but Roelle knew she would get nothing from him if he did not choose to divulge it—this was a man unafraid to bully even a Mage Elder. “I think you had a shared interest, don’t you?” Novan asked.
Roelle flushed, and avoided Selton’s gaze.
“Lendra,” Selton said with a grin, “we’d like to speak with you when you have a few moments.”
“What is it?” she asked.
Selton looked to Novan before glancing at Roelle. Roelle shrugged. The historian may be able to help them if he was willing.
“Can we step out of the hall?” Roelle asked, motioning to her room.
Lendra frowned at her. The historian gave her a strange glance, as well, but said nothing. She led them quickly into her room. It was simple and plainly appointed, a guest room and little more. There was a small bed tucked in the far corner and a sturdy desk along the back wall. Dozens of books were stacked atop the desk, several propped open, and Roelle knew they had come to the right person.
“What is it, Selton?” she asked as she closed the door.
Roelle raised a hand for a pause, stretching out her senses as she did. She heard nothing. Opening her mind, she pulled on the manehlin and created what little barrier she could. It was an early lesson learned from her uncle Alriyn and wouldn’t stop a determined listener, but would provide some warning. Selton arched an eyebrow at her, a half-smile curling his lips.
“A precaution,”
Roelle answered.
“Selton?” Lendra asked again.
“What do you know of our Founders?” Selton asked.
“The Great Mother? The same as you, likely. Why?”
Roelle shook her head. “Not just the Great Mother. There’s supposed to be something more to the Founding, something other than just the Great Mother.”
It was Novan who finally answered, pulling a book from beneath his cloak. “The question should truly be, what do you know about your Founders?” The historian peered up from his book, looking over at Roelle and Selton with piercing eyes. They seemed to see into Roelle, and it made her feel unsettled, understanding how Haerlin had been intimidated.
Roelle ran a hand through her hair, struggling with how to answer. How much did she tell them? The historian had been with them through the Deshmahne attacks, so he would understand some of Roelle’s concern, but how much did she trust the historian? Then there was the matter of Selton’s cousin. In any other circumstance, she wouldn’t hesitate to trust her friend’s family, but Lendra’s ties were to the historian—she could see it in the way the woman looked at him.
“I know little enough. I’ve spoken to Alriyn and gotten nowhere. I’ve spoken with Endric and gotten little farther.”
The tall man was silent. He pressed a long finger to his lips thoughtfully for a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “The Second?” he mumbled to himself, considering. “Why do you seek this knowledge?”
Roelle folded her hands in front of her. “I faced the Deshmahne. An open attack upon the Magi. That has never happened before. So I know what we face with them. They’re... horrible. Dangerous. In spite of that, Alriyn fears what’s happening in the north as much as the Deshmahne threat.”
“You ask about the north, yet you question your Founders?” Novan said.
“Endric,” she explained, and Novan nodded. “It was all he would give me.”
Novan smiled, but it was not meant for Roelle. “Endric,” he mused. “He’s a clever one.” Novan motioned for Roelle and Selton to sit.
Selton looked to Roelle, shrugged, and sat atop Lendra’s bed. Lendra sat next to him. Roelle stood a moment more, and Novan again waved her to sit, so finally she did. Novan took a deep breath, pulling himself upright, suddenly taller, and began pacing. The pose he struck reminded Roelle of every teacher she had known.
“To understand your Founders, is to understand the past,” he said, a smile crossing his face. “Long ago, so long ago it is no longer remembered and barely recorded, there was a war. The details are few. It is clear that it was a bloody war and one that had raged for many years. Some reports suggest it was fought against strangely dressed warriors.” Novan paused, considering. “Some said that men battled creatures of nightmare and fear. I don’t know the truth of the reports, only that the foe was powerful and destructive.
“One thing is repeated in each of the tales. One fact alike,” Novan continued. “There were certain warriors, physically gifted, that were better able to defeat these creatures. There’s something, one fragment of text found, that said only these warriors could see the creatures. They called it their gift from the gods.”
Roelle realized the similarities to the Antrilii story Endric had mentioned. “What do you think they fought?”
“There is something about the different accounts that speaks of more than mere men, something more.”
“You think these creatures were real?” Selton asked.
“Were?” he asked, shaking his head. “You know the rumors about the north. What do you think caused these rumors?”
“Deshmahne, most likely,” Roelle answered, but then she knew better. Alriyn had been convinced there was something else at play in the north, something other than the Deshmahne. Something fearsome enough that he was able to dismiss the Deshmahne threat.
Novan eyed her and shook his head. “You know better than that. No, there’s something else there, something the world has been protected from for over a thousand years. The question is, why has that protection failed?”
“And these warriors with the gift?” Selton asked.
“You think they were the Founders,” Roelle asked. The historian gave her a slow nod. “But how? The Great Mother gathered together those early Magi.”
“And so she did,” Novan agreed, scratching his ear with a long finger. “And so she did. The war was long and bloody. Men without this gift were slaughtered. Many hid. Those with the gift were more fortunate, but barely, and they were all that stood between this threat and the rest of mankind. It was a near total destruction.” He stopped to consider them. “This is why, I think, that records before your Founding over one thousand years ago are scarce. A handful of these warriors, little more than a dozen, survived. Your Great Mother gathered these survivors together and came here,” he said, sweeping his hand around him.
“But the Magi have always been peaceful servants of the gods and of the Urmahne!” Lendra said.
Novan looked at her softly, affection in his gaze. “They gave up their swords with the Founding and became the Urmahne, choosing to study their abilities. The Great Mother told them this was what the gods wanted.”
They sat silent for a long moment before Roelle spoke. “How do you know this?”
Novan smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief. “How do you not?” He let his point sink in before continuing. “I learned it in your library.”
Selton perked with the comment. “Where?”
There was a strange glitter to Novan’s eyes, brief, and then it was gone. “It is there if you are persistent in your search.”
Lendra purposefully turned her head away, a slight grin on her face.
Selton suddenly laughed, nudging his cousin. “If you hadn’t left the city, you would have been thrown out!”
She shrugged.
Roelle stared instead intently at Novan. “So our Founders...”
“Were more like you than perhaps any other Mage in the city.” Novan gave her a long look. “I have provided information for you. Now I would ask something of you. Help me see the Second.”
“Why?” Roelle tried thinking through what Novan might want with her uncle, but couldn’t come up with anything. From the way Haerlin reacted to Novan, she could only imagine how her uncle would react.
Novan smiled tightly. “I have something he may need, and he’s been unwilling to grant me an audience.”
“I can try. I make no guarantees.”
“There never are,” Novan said.
Roelle thought about the north, about what may be wandering there. What did her uncle know? What did he suspect of the north? Endric had sent men north, and all had been killed, though she had the sense they had died at the hand of Deshmahne.
What did it mean for Jakob? He’d been sent with them to the north. He might be a skilled swordsman, but if what Novan said was even partly true, he didn’t have the necessary skills to survive.
“You sent your apprentice to the north.”
Novan nodded carefully. “He was needed to observe.”
Roelle eyed him a moment. “Observe. But if these creatures are real—”
“Don’t worry about Jakob.”
“Don’t worry? How can I not after what we’ve learned? Have you even spoken to Endric?”
“I heard what happened.”
“Jakob wasn’t found.”
“Your friend will be safe,” Novan tried to assure her.
“Safe?” Roelle asked. “How can you be so certain?” She failed to keep the heat from her question and felt Selton’s eyes on her.
Novan crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I have faith.”
Roelle frowned, some of her frustration fading. “I thought you were agnostic.”
“My beliefs are not so easily corralled. But that’s not why I have faith. A different protection has been arranged for Jakob. He’ll be safe.”
“What do mean?” she asked.
“It means you need to co
nvince your uncle to meet.”
Novan flashed a tight smile and motioned to Lendra before turning and walking to the door. Lendra stood and waved to them before following the historian out the door.
Roelle looked to Selton and their eyes locked. There was little need for discussion; Roelle knew without asking what Selton would say. They needed to find out if what Novan said was true, and she could think of only one place to go.
It was time to visit her uncle again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Roelle sat in front of Alriyn while Selton sat quietly to her left; her friend had never quite grown comfortable in front of the Second Eldest in spite of their years of friendship. Few among the Magi claimed much of a relationship with those on the Council, and it created a distinction between the Councilors and the rest of the Magi. For Roelle, Alriyn had always been her uncle first and foremost.
Roelle waited for Alriyn to turn and face them. He sat quietly at his desk, writing quickly, the pen scratching at the surface of the parchment with such a grating quality that Roelle shifted in her seat. There were other chairs placed around hers, enough that Roelle suspected her uncle had been holding a meeting not long before she arrived. Again. What could he have been discussing? It was not like her uncle to hold private counsel, and now this appeared to be at least the second time he had.
Finally, Alriyn turned and leveled his gaze on the two of them in turn. Selton was first, and her muscular friend shrank from the stern eyes of the Second. Roelle didn’t shrink from the gaze, though the warmth it had carried in her childhood was gone from it, and his face bore the serious expression of his office. Alriyn then looked to the door and paused. She knew he sealed their conversation.
Roelle and Selton looked at each other with that realization. Something was amiss.
“You spoke with Endric,” Alriyn said.
Roelle nodded. “It was little help. That man is purposefully vague,” she said, letting her frustration seep into her voice.
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