“I am sure he has. However, we must be certain this is not a trap. As you say, something has been awoken here in Littlewatch. And the presence of a shaman, of all things, is too much of a coincidence.” He sighed, noting her distressed expression. “If he is willing and able to help, and his intentions are true, then of course that is what I would want. I do not wish to see your brother hang for this, not when much is still unknown. But I alone cannot make this decision. While I will take it to them, I cannot guarantee they will allow it.”
“I understand.”
“I will do what I can. Though I am not too pleased at the thought of a shaman entering the House of the Divines, if he can help, then it is little matter.”
“Thank you for listening, High Priest.”
“Of course.” He rose. “Is there anything else?”
Aloisia stood, moving towards the door. “What of the copies? They need to be destroyed. The shaman said they would need to be dispelled. We cannot destroy them any other way. The spell would linger.”
“It will be dealt with. I understand the gravity of the situation, and I do not wish to put my priests in harm’s way. It would need to be taken to the other judiciaries. This investigation is not mine alone.”
Aloisia closed her eyes briefly, hoping nothing catastrophic would happen in the time it would take them to decide.
Silas held the door open for her. “Travel well, Huntress. I fear our streets are not safe.”
“I fear so, too. Good night, High Priest.”
Silas closed the door behind her, and she looked out upon the empty nave. Her footsteps echoed in the vast hall, the soft soles of her boots doing little to quieten them. As she reached the archway, she glanced back at the altar. Certain she was alone, she hastened down the corridor, away from the entrance and to the dormitories where Tristan’s room lay.
These winding hallways were familiar to her. Aloisia had walked them for almost a decade since Tristan began his training at the Temple. Her fingers trailed across the cold stone walls as she found her way to his room.
Aloisia paused at his door, pressing a palm to it. In all their years of knowing each other, she had never seen him so furious at her. This side of him was foreign to her. She’d never had to ask his forgiveness before, not like this.
She knocked three times and waited.
No answer came.
“Tristan?” Aloisia pushed against the door.
A bolt slid into place on the other side and the door locked shut, unyielding beneath her palm.
The ice in her heart sank a little deeper, piercing further through her. “Tris, I came to tell you, the copies of the markings need to be destroyed. High Priest Silas is aware, so if you still do not wish to speak to me, you can ask him more about it. I just thought you should know. I saw Inari again—”
The bolt clanked back, and Tristan pulled the door open, his blue eyes wide. “What?”
“Tristan?”
“You went into the forest on your own to find that shaman?”
“Yes?”
“Are you quite mad? Why would you go into the Dead Woods, of all places, on your own to find that shaman, of all people?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if the Forgotten Gods had been in there? Also, I’m not sure if you remember, but only last night that man tried to kill me. Why would you go back?”
“He’s our only source of information! And you were the one who wanted to help him last night. Not me.”
“You truly have no thought for your own safety, do you?” Tristan ran a hand down his face. “I can’t do this right now, Aloisia. It’s late.” He moved to shut the door on her.
Aloisia caught the door, forcing it open. “I am trying to help Fynn. I am doing everything I can to find out what happened, so in twelve days he doesn’t hang!”
“It will not help him if you turn up dead in those woods!” he shouted. “Don’t you think I am doing everything I can, too? At least I am not trying to get myself killed in the process.”
“What point is there in playing it safe if he dies?”
