The scholar’s laugh was soft, his words barely audible. “The poison’ll kill me in a little over a fortnight, anyway,” he said. “What makes you think I have anything left to sing for?”
“You worked for my father,” Ramson replied tonelessly. “You know his methods of interrogation. I can promise you that I am, in some ways, my father’s son.”
A flint of recognition in the old scholar’s eyes, and then Ardonn gave a long sigh, his breath whistling faintly. “I could tell you, boy,” the scholar said, “but you won’t like it. In fact, there’s a lot you won’t like about what I could tell you.”
“Speak clearly. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a man who equivocates.”
“You think destroying the siphons will put an end to all this? Think again.” The scholar’s eyes were dark, and Ramson wondered what secrets this man hid. “What you’re seeing now—the siphons, the sickness that they spread in Affinites and non-Affinites alike…it all started a long time ago, when we beganusing blackstone against them. You see, this didn’t start with the newest Empress of Cyrilia, or even with Alaric Kerlan.” There was a raw, hollow tone to the scholar’s words. “These weapons of magek—they’re about something bigger than you, or I, or emperors or empresses. They’re a test on humanity. On our nature, on how far we’re willing to go to gain power. On the bounds of our cruelty, and the depths of our selfishness. I’m a man of the gods as much as I am a man of science, Ramson Quicktongue, and I believe these remnants of magek were left to us to see what choices we would make. Whether we would come together in harmony…or whether we would tear one another apart in our quest for power.”
The man was spiraling into madness. Ramson turned away and gestured to the healer on his squad. “Iversha,” he said briskly. “Tend to the prisoner with the utmost care.”
“But, Captain,” she protested, her gaze roving over the burns on his back, the strips of his doublet that were peeling and bloodied from his skin.
“That’s anorder,” Ramson said. The healer saluted and, without another word, rushed over to where Ardonn lay on the sand.
Ramson turned to the rest of his squad. A decision he had been mulling over hardened in his chest, with more certainty than ever. They were at the northernmost tip of Bregon; the Blue Fort was a half day’s journey away by boat.
Half a day seemed like a long stretch when time was in short supply.
Ramson looked out to the ocean, to where the sky met the sea. To the Navy squad that King Darias Rennaron had entrusted to his command. He had the urge to drop everything and sail away to Cyrilia right now.
The last time he’d seen Ana had been a little over a fortnight ago, when she’d left for the great Northern Empire again. He remembered the wan complexion to her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes and the slight hollowing to her cheeks.
King Darias and the Three Courts were intent on finding out more about the siphons to understand how Morganya might use them to become invincible and to destroy the balance of their world.
And as always, Ramson’s reasons were far from noble. Selfish, just as he’d always been.
Ramson wanted to know what happened to the Affinites whose powers were siphoned.
He wanted to find out what would happen to Ana.
He closed his eyes briefly, listening to the crash of waves over the shore. King Darias had committed the full resources of the Blue Fort and its renowned scholars to researching the siphons. Leaving now would mean abandoning all of that; leaving now meant destroying everything Ramson had begun to build up for himself here in Bregon and betraying the trust he’d brokered with his king.
A soft wind brushed his face with the briny scent of the sea, bringing back echoes of a yesterday long past, the words of an old friend who had told him to live for himself.
Your heart is your compass.
Ramson wasn’t sure he fully understood what that meant anymore. His heart pointed in a completely different direction than his mind, than what made sense.
“Officer Narron,” he said, and the young officer stepped forward with a salute. “Search the rest of the mansion. I want allbooks and papers and parchments that survived the fire to be loaded onto our ship.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We set sail for the Blue Fort within the hour.”
It was only when his Navy squad turned and headed for the scarred, smoking remains of the Nest that Ramson loosed a breath. The pain pulsing in his back and his arms crested suddenly, and it was all that he could do to limp over to where Healer Iversha was tending to Ardonn.
The scholar was staring at Ramson, his lips opening and closing. As Ramson drew closer, he caught what Ardonn was trying to say.
“…wanted to know…about the blood princess.”
The world tipped. Ramson knelt on the sand, ignoring Iversha’s protests as he seized a fistful of Ardonn’s shirt. “What is it?” His voice was a rasp. “What do you know about her?”
Scholar Ardonn’s face was ashen; a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His eyes fluttered as he began to slip into a drug-induced slumber. But Ramson heard the last words he uttered, like the sigh of wind combing through waves.
“I’m afraid…it won’t be a happy ending…for your blood princess.”
The Jade Trail
