Unsettled by this, Emere did not say more. The stout man sat across from him, drinking from his cup. Septima fiddled with her own wineglass in front of her. The man devastated by his interrogation in the Office of Truth continued to stare into space. Emere sat in silence as well.
He didn’t know what was waiting for him. He feared his past coming back to haunt him. But he also knew that everything had changed the day he was shot. Before, he was a hostage and a figurehead. Now, he was closer to something that mattered. Something that wantedhimfor some reason. Whatever it might be, it felt better to be wanted than not.
14
ARIENNE
The sight of the Imperial sorcerer ghost bouncing Tychon made Arienne pause. The lines of his features and body were less sharp compared to the other ghosts that had entered her mind, but what really struck her was the fact that he knew the baby’s name. He must have had some kind of relationship to Tychon while he was alive.
“And that’s why he could remain when everyone else was banished,” she murmured, forgetting that there was finally someone around to hear her. The donkey had been staring at the ghost and now turned to her, his ears perked up.
The first person she thought of as having something to do with Tychon was his father—Lysandros. He hadn’t died in Mersia, but he was the author ofThe Sorcerer of Mersiaand had ties to this country. For all she knew about ghosts, this was as good a reason as any why Lysandros might be here now.
She took a closer look at the ghost while he comforted thecrying child. Lysandros, when Arienne met him, had been more machine than man, and she hadn’t ever imagined what he would’ve looked like before he did away with most of his flesh. She took a step toward the ghost.
“Do you remember me?”
The ghost looked up from Tychon and stared at her. His eyes were like dark shadows and his face hard to read, but his stare told her that he was trying to remember.
“Well, do you?” Arienne asked again.
Arienne gasped as his features started to become even more blurred and vague. He did not answer. Hoping that he would not dissipate into thin air, she pressed.
“I’m Arienne, the one who ran away with Eldred? I killed you.”
“Eldred… the Grim King…?”
The fog-like boundaries of the ghost suddenly started to come into focus. Only then could Arienne see the embroidered name on his uniform:ENGINEER JUNIOR GRADE NOAM.
“Your name is Noam? Not Lysandros?”
She was disappointed, but also curious. And after having crossed the Rook Mountains and traversed a wasteland without sharing a single word with anyone, she was almost overjoyed to actually be speaking to someone, albeit a ghost. She thought of the days when Eldred had lived in the room in her mind.
“Lysandros. The Grand Inquisitor…” His eyes found their focus, and he looked less out of it. He began to sing softly, a lullaby. Tychon’s cries subsided, and Arienne felt like she was falling under a spell. This was an unfamiliar language. The ghost carefully laid Tychon down on the bed before he started talking.
“Yes, sir! Engineer Noam, reporting… No problems withTychon, Grand Inquisitor Lysandros. Output margin of error within five decachrons…”
The ghost’s form was slowly coming more and more into focus. His round face was flush, and his large, shining eyes were the first feature to fully re-form. His clean face had no trace of a beard, and his ears were too big and his nose too small. He looked around twenty-five, maybe younger? As she wondered what he would say next, the ghost suddenly leaped up and shouted, “Fractica! What is Fractica doing?”
He suddenly grabbed Arienne’s shoulders, his face twisted in fear.
“Oh no, oh no…Ayula!”
Arienne’s eyes were wide as she stared into Noam’s face.
“Melting. Melting… my hands…”
The twisted, melted buildings and bones of Danras—as Arienne was remembering them, Noam grabbed her face and Arienne pushed him away.
“Stop that!”
Noam stumbled backward, tripped over Aron, and landed on his behind. His hands were not melting, nor were they warping. They looked perfectly normal. Noam stared at them and then looked up at Arienne. He gasped. Quickly, he got to his feet and took another step back, staring at her with suspicion.
“Who are you? What am I doing here?”
“It’smewho should be askingyouthose questions! Clearly, you’re a sorcerer in charge of managing a Power generator. Engineer Junior Grade Noam.”
“How do you know my name?”
