“Hmm.” Aloisia twirled a bead on one of her braids. “I suppose it makes sense. The Forgotten Gods seem more dangerous by far. Information on them would be guarded, if it exists at all.”
“Did Inari say anything else?”
“He said the only one who can send the Forgotten Gods back, to stop them, is the one who summoned them.”
Tristan swiped a hand down his face. “Then I suppose finding whoever summoned them is the only way to get further forward.”
“How do we find them?” She was on her feet again, pacing.
“I don’t know, honestly.” He caught her wrist, forcing her to stop. “Wait. What was Inari right about?”
“Oh. He warned me there would be those who want to keep this all hushed. Mother Lusana seems to be one of them.”
Tristan scrunched his nose. “But why? She’s the Modäiti. Like Magistrate Vester, she seeks truth and justice.”
“She claims she wants to avoid mass hysteria when there may be nothing to be afraid of.” Aloisia scoffed. “Of course there’s something to be afraid of. Those things are still out there, somewhere, and they have already killed someone. What if they kill again?”
“I suppose I can understand her wanting to keep information back, to keep the townsfolk from sinking into terror.”
Aloisia gave him a pointed glare.
“It’s suspicious she wants to keep information hushed, too. And she spoke to you alone. Don’t look at me like that, Lis. I’m on your side.”
“What of Brighde’s markings?” Aloisia perched on the bench, her fingers going to the bandage still wound around her palm. “Any progress?”
Tristan shook his head. “There are a few symbols which are like those in other languages, but none match exactly. It’s quite frustrating, actually. You feel close to cracking it, then there’s too much of a difference for it to match.”
She leant closer, hope blooming within her. “What markings were close?”
“There’s a hawk, right over her heart. However, hawks appear in so many languages, so many cultures, usually as prophecies or omens. The symbology is often quite similar in meaning. There are subtle differences in the imagery; it doesn’t quite match any of them. There are others, runic symbols, but we worked on the hawk for the longest today. We felt so close to getting it right, finally getting something. Alas, we were wrong.” He shrugged. “Hence why I was late.”
“A hawk?” Aloisia thought to Inari’s markings.
Tristan nodded.
“The shaman had a hawk over his heart too.”
“He does?” His eyes widened. “Surely, it can’t be a coincidence.”
“He’s covered in runic tattoos.”
“How do you know?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She waved away his concern. “From what I remember of Brighde’s markings, they are not the same.” She tugged at the bandage on her hand. “Nor is it the same as this. Still, like you say, it’s too much of a coincidence.” Aloisia almost sighed at having to return to Inari for the third time in the past twenty-four hours.
“Perhaps he could read the markings? Or at least give some insight into what some of them could mean. Maybe he can help with this…” Tristan brushed a thumb across her bound palm.
“I thought the same. If anyone is going to know, it would be our fate he’d be the one.”
“Not keen to see him again?” He smirked.
She barked a laugh. “Not half. But if he can help us…”
“It’s worth trying.”
“Do you think we can trust him?” Aloisia chewed her lip. No one except Tristan knew of the marking. If the wrong person were to find out…
“I suppose he has been co-operative. And he’s a hermit in the woods. There’s no significant risk he’d tell anyone, if that’s what concerns you. Though, it remains to be seen whether he would be allowed near Brighde.”
