Suddenly there was someone before him. His face was hidden by the gloom, and he made no sound. It had to be the silent man he had been pursuing since the funeral, the Safani that the agents talked about.
He touched his thigh. There was a skewer-like dart embedded there. A smell of honey that hadn’t been there before. His left knee buckled on its own, and he fell. The fiery sensation in his wound was now numb, and the darkness turned even darker.
The door opened. A candle burned. The face of Gladdis and the ex-legionary woman, with recognition lighting up the latter’s eyes. And Safani, as well, standing over him and looking down expressionlessly.
The candlelight went out. Or it didn’t; it was his eyes that were closing. He tried to open them but they wouldn’t move. The three were saying something to one another. Cain tried to concentrate on what they were saying. But soon, he could hear nothing.
24ARIENNE
Since they had fled the tower, Eldred had bombarded Arienne with questions, but the main one he kept coming back to was how she managed to use that spell on the inquisitors when she had no experience of ever having killed someone. Arienne did not answer. Who knew what he would say if she told him about her imaginings of the skeleton underneath the Academy.
If Cain was correct, it would take a day and half to cross Finvera Pass and walk into Kamori. A harsh climb, especially in this cold weather, but at least it wasn’t snowing anymore. It was daytime now with no cloud in sight, and the only sound was that of light wind rustling past the trees. But the dark green monotone of the forested scenery reminded her of the stories of Finvera Pass she’d heard as a child, which had always featured a night blizzard, with owls and wolves screaming among solemn firs that filled the mountain.
The only open inn by the pass was large but shabby. This part of the road had seen better days since the Empire took overLontaria and established a port on the west coast of Ledon. It used to have many inns, but most of them stood abandoned by the roadside now.
Arienne found shelter in one of the closed ones and waited for morning. She would have gotten a room at the working inn and enjoyed a proper meal, but after having killed someone—after having killedtwopeople—she feared being seen by other travelers. Even though it had all happened in that forest where no one could have seen, she felt like her crimes were written all over her face.
The abandoned inn was derelict, as if no care had been taken of it for a decade or so. Its fireplace, however, was still sound. Arienne used parts of broken furniture for firewood, and found a dented pot in the kitchen. She filled it with snow and boiled the hard bread and dried meat she had, hoping it would result in something resembling meat porridge. The wind coming through the cracks of the building made the flames dance and throw monstrous shadows on the walls.
“Why not stop reading that,”said Eldred.
“Books are meant to be read,” she answered without looking up.
Arienne had been readingThe Sorcerer of Mersiaevery moment she had a chance since fleeing the tower, and she was almost at the end. It was the story of how the sorcerer king Eldred, who had ruled Mersia through fear and death, had been vanquished by a young inquisitor of the Office of Truth named Lysandros. A tale so old it happened decades before the devastation of Mersia a hundred years ago.
“What an evil bastard you were. I see why you did not want me to read it.”
“Have you already forgotten what I said about that book? Think ofwho it was that wrote it. The wretch Lysandros, as befits an agent of the Empire, conquers through lies.”
Arienne scoffed. “This book doesn’t read like lies. I’d say the author’s tone is very sincere.”
“Nobody conquers the world withinsincerelies.”
Arienne remembered her history classes at the Academy. Neither her textbooks nor her professors had mentioned Mersia, much less a sorcerer named Eldred. But they were unequivocal in describing the pre-Imperial world as barbaric, superstitious, and impoverished. She had always assumed such descriptions were heavy with propaganda and were to be taken with many a grain of salt… But what had the old days really been like, before the Empire took over, if they were a time that the Grim King of Mersia could reminisce fondly about?
Arienne turned her eyes back to the pages.
“Is it true you sat on a throne made of a hundred skulls?”
Eldred had no answer.
“You also kidnapped the son of this Lysandros and murdered him.”
“I did not kill him.”
“But you did kidnap him? As a hostage?”
“No, I wanted him as my apprentice.”
“A baby?”
“I could sense the talent in him, even while he was in his mother’s womb. And I tried to save the child.”
In the room of her mind, a small cloud of dust formed as Eldred sighed.“Now he will never grow up to be a proper sorcerer. He could have been so much more!” Eldred paused. “Little sorcerer, listen to me. A Power generator is an abomination.”
Arienne nodded in agreement. “I know. That’s why I—”
Eldred interrupted,“I do not mind abominations. Some might even say all sorcerers are abominations.”His face twisted in a wry grin before it dropped into a sneer.“However, the piece of magic that creates Power generators is a degradation of all sorcerers. It is not just how our bodies are used, but how our lives are designed to satiate the hunger of banal, ordinary men. That I cannot abide, whether the damned things are made of a powerful old witch or a small boy who hadn’t learned a spell in his months of short life. That is another reason that I chose you. You share that sentiment with me.”
