“The gods are awakening,” Talan pointed out, “and Ankaret is a child of the gods, more so than any of us. Why, then, couldn’t she be awakening too?”
His gentle voice seemed to soothe everyone listening. I wondered if he’d dared to use his demonic power to calm the room’s rising tempers.
“I know what she told me,” Farrin said. Her voice was quiet, buther brown eyes—our father’s eyes—were flinty. “I know the contents of her will, and for years I knewher. My search for her will continue until I have no breath left in me.”
“And doing so will be a waste of your breath,” General Haldrin replied at once.
“That isenough, General,” Thirsk snapped, all the sadness suddenly gone from his face. “And you will never again refer to Ankaret as anything other than the queen. Even in death, she deserves more than the label ofcreature.”
That silenced us all. I found myself smiling as I regarded the tired, white-haired Thirsk, who suddenly looked as fierce as any soldier. I could see why Farrin liked him.
After a moment, General Pallien cleared her throat. “Iwould say our priority is to find the other anchors of theytheliadcurse. We have the crown and the egg, but three more are yet to be found. If we can destroy these anchors of Kilraith’s power, render him toothless both here in Edyn and in the Old Country, we can stop whatever he’s doing to destroy the Mist.” She looked at me. “Lady Mara, I imagine the Warden and the rest of the Order would agree, yes?”
“To be frank with you, General,” I replied, “I’m not certain that the Warden thinks of much beyond surviving each day with as many Roses alive as possible.”
“Nor should she,” said General Haldrin. “The duty of the Order is to protect our country from Olden invaders, not to go treasure-hunting.”
Talan smiled tightly. “You make seeking the anchors sound like a mere child’s game, General. While I agree that the Order’s attentions should remain fixed on the Mist, finding the curse’s anchors is no easy task.”
Now Gareth was the one to clear his throat. The sound startled me. He’d been so quiet since we’d arrived that I’d almost forgotten he was there. He was standing in the corner, leaning against a sideboardand drumming his fingers on his thigh, as if we were simply having an academic debate at one of his professorial salons. And yet to me his presence felt suddenly and inexplicably larger than it should have been, as if he were standing right next to me instead of several strides away.
“If I may,” he began, “I have a suggestion regarding that topic. My team and I at the university have been working on several projects, as you know. One of them involves a rather complicated set of innovative spells designed by our top beguilers—spells designed to seek out traces of theytheliad. But we’ve reached the limit of what we can accomplish in the laboratory.”
He cleared his throat again, glancing quickly at me. I thought I saw a flash of embarrassment in his eyes. “I propose that my team establish a new base of work farther north, where Kilraith’s magic—and the workings of theytheliad—are more concentrated and destructive and therefore more overt.”
General Pallien nodded. “And easier to track.”
“In theory, yes.”
Gemma glanced at Gareth, then at me, then back at Gareth again, her eyes dancing. “You want to bring your team to the Middlemist, don’t you?”
Gareth shoved his hands into his pockets. Unlike my sister, he was pointedlynotlooking at me. “I know it sounds extreme, but it’s the natural next step in our work, and I believe it’s where we can do the most good.”
“Funnily enough,” said Farrin, an odd look on her face, “the Warden has already sent for you, Gareth.”
I turned to her in surprise. “I’ve brought no such summons with me.”
“It arrived before you did,” said Ryder. “She didn’t tell you about it?”
I shook my head, accepted the note Farrin was holding out to me, and read it quickly.
Professor Gareth Fontaine: By the authority of the Order of the Rose, as bequeathed to me by the Crown upon the wishes of the gods, I request your presence, and that of whatever associates you deem necessary, at the priory of Rosewarren. I ask that you aid us in our search for the objects we currently understand to be “anchors” of the being Kilraith and facilitate further consultation on the transference procedure proposed in your most recent submission to the Academic Committee Councils. With cordial appreciation and expectation of all due haste.
The handwriting was certainly the Warden’s, as was her scribbled signature and the message’s somewhat sneering formality.
I looked up at Gareth with a glare. It seemed I wouldn’t be able to ignore him any longer, and I felt unreasonably angry about it.
“Transference procedure?” I asked him sharply. “What is she talking about?”
“Another project my team has been working on is rather radical, much more so than our curse-tracking designs. The Warden has been particularly intrigued by the idea.” Gareth took a breath. “To put it simply, we believe that it might be possible to transfer the essence of a god from one host into a stronger host.”
Little gasps rippled around the room. I couldn’t help but think of Mother up at Wardwell: the face and body of Philippa Wren, the spirit of the goddess Kerezen.
The impatient advisor scoffed. “Preposterous. Manipulation of agod?”
“Look what Kilraith did to Jaetris,” Gareth pointed out. “Consider how long it took Kerezen, while living in the body of Philippa Ashbourne, to understand what she truly was.” He shot an apologetic glance at Farrin, at Gemma, but not at me. My unreasonable anger returned, more at myself than at him. I didn’t care one whit whetheror not he looked at me.
“Clearly, as they reawaken,” Gareth continued, “the nascent gods are in a weakened state and susceptible to being controlled by outside forces. And they have no bodies of their own, as they once did. Instead, they must inhabit someone else’s physical form. At the moment, we can’t predict how they will surface or in whom. But with a bit more time, I believe my team and I will be able to. At the crown’s command, of course.”
