“The Coalition.” Calya looked up briefly, a grim smile on her face. “They must know we’re close, that’s why… It doesn’t matter. I’ll nail them to the wall with this. HNE will be… Father can’t deny it this time.”
Alarm rang through Nocren’s head. There was something chilling in Calya’s words. No, not just the words but her tone. She sounded vindicated. And hungry. Oh, so hungry.
The warning intensified, and in his growing dread over Calya’s manner it took him a moment to realize it was the wind assailing him. Once sure of his attention, it whirled through the room, scattering loose papers left and right. Calya looked up, confusion narrowing her eyes.
Nocren didn’t let himself dwell over how right it felt, how sweetly his magic called to him when it came to her. How easily his defenses fell, his personal rules blown away like they were made of dandelion fluff, when the wind rose for her.
He stopped fighting it, allowing the magic to flow into his hands. What happens? he asked of the wind. Will she be safe?
He let his questions go, inwardly bracing for the wind’s message.
* * *
The pool surged. The water level was higher than when he’d seen it before, arcs of light breaking the surface like jumping fish. The water crackled as light flowed in through channels carved in the walls, the floors.
Unnatural, the wind whispered. Wrong.
* * *
Before Nocren could try and follow the potential fates tied up in those words, the image of the pool melted away. It refocused, bringing a vision of Avenor standing on the deck of a ship, hands clasped in front of him. He shook his head, the picture of shallow regret. “I tried,” he murmured, voice distorted by the wind.
Coward, the wind seethed. Or was it Nocren himself?
* * *
Again, the scene changed without giving him the option of intuiting more from the vision. The garden plots outside came into focus. This time, the wards were dark, their quartz stones shattered. The ground in the plots was not sandy and matte but dusty and gray. As Nocren watched, a dully glowing line of moldy green crept beyond the confines of the bed, the ground for several feet on either side of the wood leaching of all color.
Change, the wind screamed at him. This time, the scene lingered as the wind let the impression of Change flare so bright in Nocren’s mind it burned. He blinked, as if clearing sunspots from his eyes.
Calya appeared in the scene, rushing toward the garden bed. She held several glass jars in her hands, and they tumbled to the earth in her haste as she knelt beside the bed’s wooden wall, ignoring how the wood was grayed and rotten. Perhaps she didn’t notice it at all.
Nocren couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Was forced to stand and bear silent witness as she scooped the contaminated dirt into the jars with her bare hands. All the while, she muttered under her breath, “Evidence. Need evidence or they’ll never believe me.”
A presence loomed at his back, causing Nocren’s hackles to rise. He tried to turn his head, but the vision belonged more to the wind than to him, and it kept him still. He felt Avenor’s approach before finally seeing him as the other man stalked past on silent feet.
Calya gave no sign of noticing. A stack of ledgers had appeared at her side. She had her pocket notebook in hand, writing a note as her gaze went from the jars she’d filled to the page and back. Her lips moved, but Nocren couldn’t hear her words. Only the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears.
She scribbled away, oblivious as Avenor kept coming. She didn’t see the rope that materialized in his hands.
The scene blurred once more. Calya and Avenor reduced to silhouettes, grappling with one another. Nocren thought he heard a scream, but then the sound of Avenor’s laughter filled his head. The vision began to fade, everything going black as all sound became one long, discordant note in his mind.
Change, the wind whispered a final time, its voice weak.
* * *
Eyes snapping open, Nocren staggered against the table, dimly aware of Calya’s hand shaking his shoulder.
“Lowe? Lowe! What happ?—”
He shoved himself upright. “We’re leaving, now.”
“Leaving?” Calya repeated, incredulous. “But we just?—”
“We can’t wait for Sor’vahl. We’re getting Orren’s men, the other mages in town, anyone. Everyone! We’re burning this entire site to the godsdamned ground before—” Nocren paused, halfway down the ramp before he realized Calya wasn’t with him. He beckoned to her. “Come on.”
She stood in the doorway, rigid with tension. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. No, I can’t, Lowe. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”
