“No.” Ana slammed those thoughts shut in the back of her mind, homing her focus to the present. A new day had begun.She had work to do. There was no use for her to dwell on what might have been. “Daya,” she said, “would you summon a meeting with our soldiers? I’d like to begin the plan for our campaign.”
—
Ana took time to walk around camp, greeting the Bregonian soldiers and thanking them for their service. The camp was overa day’s travel north of Salskoff, near the Krazyast Triangle. This, Daya had said, was close to where the blackstone mines were. Cyrilians traditionally kept away, believing the region to bring bad luck. Most of the villages around this area had emptied out, leaving them rich pickings as to which one they wished to occupy.
Ana spent the afternoon strategizing with Daya and the Bregonian captains, organizing scouts to take watch on all roads leading from the Salskoff Palace. Then, with Daya and the military advice of the Bregonian Navy captains, Ana began planning the roots of her campaign.
Night had fallen by the time they agreed on a strategy and a route across Northern Cyrilia; they would not have time for her to personally visit the south, and so emissaries would be sent to gather forces who wished to fight with the Red Tigress.
Ana took the walk back to her temporary dacha alone, letting the cold night air cool her head. After the flurry of work throughout the day, she found her thoughts straying back to what Ramson had said about the core of alchemical power, about reversing the effects of the siphons. On her way back, she passed by the dacha Daya had assigned to Tetsyev; the soft auric glow ofcandlelight spilled out from the mullioned windows. Ana hesitated, her conversation with Ramson rushing back to her in the silence.
It’s three fish with one hook, Ana: Stop Morganya, reverse the effect of the siphons, and save your life.
On a whim, she turned and walked across the path to Tetsyev’s dacha.
The Bregonian sentries on duty saluted her as she entered. In the sitting room, several pallets had been laid out on the floor, stacked neatly with the soldiers’ belongings.
Ana found Tetsyev in a back room, hunched over a wooden table against the wall. He was reading. The tome he held was thick, the leather practically falling apart. The title had been stamped in gold:The Theory of Alchemy and Magic.
He looked up as she approached, then straightened and shut his book quietly.
Ana drew out the stool across from him and sat. The dacha was empty, the soldiers presumably out on whatever duties Daya had assigned them. “I’d like to speak with you,” she said. “We didn’t have the chance to finish our conversation last night.”
He watched her carefully. “Of course,” he said.
“It seems you’ve been studying siphons.” She touched the blackstone across her neck. “You knew how to stabilize me.”
He waited, his expression inscrutable.
“The artifact Morganya is after,” she continued. “Tell me more.”
Tetsyev began: “I first caught wind of the siphons back when I was working for Alaric Kerlan. Back when…we met, you’ll recall.”
She did. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d tracked down theconspiracy to kill her family to the man sitting before her. The man who’d exposed a much larger scheme.
“Back then, I discovered some of his ties to Bregon, which is how I learned of the siphons. But there was more. Alaric Kerlan was a trader, and acollector.He’d collected relics from all over the world, placed them like prized trophies in that estate of his.”
Ana nodded, remembering, with a sick feeling, how he’d kept anything, from rare animals to artifacts, from as far as the Aseatic Isles and the Southern Crowns in his mansion.
“In his travels, he’d heard rumors of a long-lost relic from traders of the Aseatic Isles, and I learned that he’d begun research on this. He’d begun whispering in Morganya’s ear long before any of us were involved.” Tetsyev raised the book he’d put down and handed it to her. “This book mentions a point where the Deities’ Lights gather closest to our mortal world, which has me believe that the artifact may lie very close to Cyrilia. Unfortunately, we know nothing for certain, and I am more inclined to rely on evidence and science than on old legends. But if Morganya’s search for this item tells us anything, it is that this artifact would hold far more power than the siphons did. In Morganya’s hands, I have no doubt she will use it to change our world forever.”
Ana considered him for a moment. “Why did you finally decide to leave Morganya?” she asked instead. “You have had the chance previously, but you chose to stay by her side. Why now?”
Tetsyev blinked, slowly. When he spoke again, it was in the manner of one choosing each word carefully. “I have lived my entire life as a series of mistakes. This all began when Morganya and I were no more than children, living a life in hiding, in fear of those who might find out that we were Affinites. Mine was subtler—an Affinity to the merging and morphing of elements,to alchemy—but Morganya, with the ability to manipulate flesh and mind, held so much power. I should have seen it from the start.”
She’d heard this story before—parts of it, at least.
“We wanted change, and we were so bitter, so tired. Anger makes fools of the best people.” He paused. “As does love.”
Ana had never heard him speak of this.
“I loved Morganya.” Tetsyev bowed his head, his voice hoarse. “Even when her ideas became more and more radical, even when she spoke of murder, I loved her. And I couldn’t see past that…for a long, long time.” The alchemist shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “A part of me still does.” He looked up, his features twisted into sorrow. “What do you do when the ones you love cause harm?”
Ana thought of Papa, his coldness, his unwillingness to acknowledge her Affinity. How much that had broken her, and how much of her was still seeking to heal from it. More importantly, how his views had ravaged an entire empire.
She loved him—still.
But she needed to stand for what was right.
