“Prince Emere, what does it mean that a destiny is decided, but not the future?”
The plains were now covered in blue fire too.
“That one cannot pick the moment of choice,” said Emere readily, “but the future depends on the choice one makes in that moment.”
Loran nodded. “The wisdom of the Tree Lords of Kamori. But that is not all.”
“If not all, then—”
“You must meet the Sleeping King.”
The sky, the earth, it was all covered in blue fire now, though the fire was not hot. The horizon had disappeared. So had the volcano and the battlefield and Arland. Loran herself was fading into the light.
At the sound of a door opening, Emere was startled awake, the short leg of his table knocking against the floor.
Calming himself, he looked around him. There was another lantern lit, but it was darker in the tavern than before. The shadow of a giant filled the doorframe. The stout man and Septima had their gazes fixed in that direction.
The giant entered and carefully lowered the burden he carried on his back onto Emere’s table. The burden was a person. A man. Maybe dead. The stout man stood up from his chair, lantern in hand, and took a closer look.
Septima stood. “Oh… Is he alive?”
The giant shrugged.
There were three bolts stuck in the giant’s shoulder and chest, and the man lying on the table also had three bloody bolts coming out of his chest. Septima brought a finger under the man’s nostrils, shook her head, and said, “Let’s take care of you first.”
As the stout man held up his lantern for her, Septima grabbed the end of each of the bolts in the giant and ripped them out. She did it so forcefully that blood splattered on her face each time, but the giant didn’t even flinch. His bleeding soon stopped, and his wounds slowly, miraculously began to close. They shrank into star-shaped scars and then completely disappeared.
To a wide-eyed Emere, Septima said, “Councillor, this is Devadas. He is an Amrit from Varata.”
Emere had heard of Amrits when he visited Varata with Rakel.They had been monks, practicing body magic for immense strength and healing. Local legends said the greatest of them were able to uproot hills and come back from the dead. By the time he visited, there had been none to be seen, as one would expect from an Imperial province. All he saw was one of the mountain sites where a cloister had stood, turned into an Imperial-style square. But the locals insisted that some were in hiding, passing down their magic. Did they know an Amrit worked for the very Empire who had exterminated their order?
The giant Devadas rubbed his healed wounds and said in a deep voice, “Who was that woman outside? She was trouble.”
“The assassin who was after the councillor. What happened to her?”
“She’s dead. But she managed to kill our contact.” Devadas looked Emere up and down. He seemed displeased. Perhaps, like the stout man, he did not approve of Emere’s stealing of the Power generator in Dehan Forest. Emere returned his stare with a dispassionate one of his own. Devadas’s nostrils flared, and his breathing was rough. He took a menacing step toward Emere, and Emere stood up in response. Devadas was two heads taller than Emere, a living tower of muscle. Emere had no choice but to look up.
Septima stepped in between them.
“You know what Cain said. Restrain yourself.”
Devadas scoffed.
Septima turned to Emere. “And Councillor, you must understand the disapproval of my men. Hundreds died in that fire.”
The tavern owner sat exactly as he did before, still staring into the distance. Emere sat back down, looked at the man who layunmoving on the table, and asked, “Is this the man I was supposed to meet?”
“He is. Though, to be precise, our friend was supposed to speak to youthroughthis man.” Septima sighed and rummaged through the man’s coat. “Do you know what’s under the Senate building?”
The Circuit of Destiny again. This could not be a coincidence.
“I’ve heard rumors,” said Emere. “Generators connected together. The Circuit of Destiny that can tell the future.”
Septima found a small burlap sack the size of a fist in the man’s inner pocket and nodded.
“Yes, as you say, the Circuit can tell us the future. They say it holds the whole of the past, present, and future within it. Our friend… he is an Arlander named Cain, and he is trying to learn everything he can about the Circuit of Destiny. In his investigations, your name came up.”
The moment Septima said Cain’s name, Emere felt a level of care underlying the tone of her voice. Septima undid the sack’s string and dropped its contents on the floor. A few silver coins made a clear ringing sound on the floorboards, and then two wooden carvings fell out. Both human figures—men or women, it was impossible to tell—were raising their arms to the sky. Emere was familiar with the style.
