Her hands fisted. She needed to secure an alliance with Bregon, fast; she needed to return home, to Cyrilia.
A familiar voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up sharply. On a path between two rows of trees stood Sorsha Farrald, in conversation with someone else. The thick foliage and semidarkness hid Ana from view as she crept closer to see who it was.
With a jolt, she realized that she recognized the other figure. Dressed in the same elegant white robes and carrying a set of scrolls, the young scholarly man from Godhallem spoke softly, his words punctuated by Sorsha’s rapid-fire speech.
Who was he? Why had he been the only noncourtier—at least, she’d surmised—to appear at Godhallem earlier, and more important, why was he speaking to Sorsha?
As Ana watched, her Affinity sensed two familiar signatures approaching behind her. Ana turned.
Linn and Kaïs appeared from the doors of the Ambassador’s Suites, nearly unrecognizable in their new attire. Linn wore a dress of deep blue threaded with green that rippled like ocean waves when light struck it. They brought out the hues of dark blue in her hair and eyes, the colors playing off each other like ocean waters beneath a midnight sky. And Kaïs had donned a navy-blue shirt with black breeches.
Ana pressed a finger to her lips and nodded to the alder trees. When she turned back, however, Sorsha was gone; only the young scholar remained, looking deep in thought.
Linn crouched next to Ana. “Him,” she breathed.
Kaïs frowned. “He was at Godhallem.”
Ana nodded. “I just saw him talking to Sorsha Farrald.” It would be good to meet someone else in the Blue Fort, perhaps someone whose inclinations were less clear than the Farralds’. She had more questions, anyway, starting with the newest version of the Bregonian government’s personnel. Ramson had clearly left a few things out.
Speaking of…“Where’s Ramson?” she whispered.
“He did not answer his door,” Linn said.
Ana glanced back to the young scholar, who had begun to walk away. No matter—she would find Ramson later.
She motioned at Linn and Kaïs, and they hurried after the scholar.
The young scholar led them to an open courtyard; Ana watched him enter a large domed building—the only one of its kind in the Blue Fort’s array of stern, square structures with crenellated walls. As they neared, Ana saw that this building’s doors were made of ironore, woven through with searock that seemed to undulate in the light of the moon.
Ana lifted a hand to the bronze knockers—the Three Gods of Bregon curving around a single scroll—and pushed the doors open.
The interior was cool, dimly lit with low-burning lamps. There were no windows here—the sun’s rays were damaging to books—and it took a few moments for Ana’s eyes to adjust.
The first thing she saw were books. Thousands upon thousands of them, stacked on gilded shelves that lined the walls and the crescents of alcoves, giving the impression of endless waves of leather tomes. A single hallway cut through the center of the space, and overhead was a giant mural that stretched from this entrance to the very end of the library.
“Oh,” Linn whispered. “Ramson told us about this. The Livren Skolaren.”
Ramson had introduced the Livren Skolaren to them as the Great Scholars’ Library of Bregon, said to house the most complete records of the kingdom’s history. Its use was restricted to courtiers of the Blue Fort and recruits at the Naval Academy.
Ana looked around. The center of the library was lined with oakwood desks. Scholars sat scattered throughout, their white robes dotting the otherwise dark décor. The air was filled with the quiet rustle of their pages, the scratches of pen, the occasional murmur.
There were others here, too: regular officials of the Blue Fort in the standard royal-blue Bregonian uniforms, perusing volumes or taking notes from thick tomes. Several glanced Ana’s way, their gazes trailing her, but clearly the Admiral’s word had gotten out, for they were left alone.
At the back of the library, studying the tomes on a shelf, was the scholar they had been following.
Linn and Kaïs took their positions to stand guard by the entrance while Ana made straight for where the young scholar stood, his hand hovering over gilded spines. “Excuse me,” she said in Bregonian.
He turned to face her. Surprise bloomed on his face, which quickly turned to recognition from behind his spectacles. “Can I help you, meindame?” His voice was soft, like the trickle of water.
“I thought I saw you earlier, in Godhallem, and wondered if you might be able to help me,” Ana said.
He looked at her a moment longer, then inclined his head. “Head Scholar Tarschon, meindame. I run the public and private records of the Livren Skolaren and oversee educational research.”
The man was at most five, six years older than her. To have been made Head Scholar at such a young age—Ana was familiar enough with court politics that she knew someone had to have placed him in that position for a reason other than knowledge.
That aside, it made him an extremely valuable resource. Ana put on a smile. “Well met, Scholar Tarschon,” she said. “I’m unfamiliar with navigating the Livren Skolaren, and was wondering whether you’d be kind enough to direct me.”
“And what is it that you are searching for?”
