‘Before my grandfather’s reign, it was just a sun.’
‘Why?’ I ask, appalled. ‘Whywould he do that?’
‘I imagine it amused him,’ says Fox simply. ‘Claiming the Eye as his own symbol, hiding the truth in plain sight, with everybody none the wiser.’
I shake my head in disgust. ‘And what of your Eye?’
Fox leans against the table. ‘You’ll have to be more specific. Currently, I have five.’
‘Five?’
He points once, twice, to his real eyes, then holds out both chains.
‘And the fifth?’
He swivels round and lifts up his hair. There, seared into the nape of his neck, is an open eye, the trademark tattoo of the Imperial Court. If I found it unnerving before, it positively horrifies me now.
Fox turns back and holds up the second of the golden pendants. ‘I presume you mean the talisman I spent several months scouring the Otherlands for?’
‘How did you find it?’ I ask incredulously, as he tugs it over his head and drops it into my palm.
He shrugs a shoulder. ‘Intuition. A bit of luck. Excellent navigational skills.’
I turn it over in my hands. It’s identical to Syla’s in every way. ‘Which one is it?’
Fox considers me for a moment. ‘The Eye you’re holding belonged to Sifa.’
I exhale slowly. ‘You mean … this Eye can show you the past? That you can see the past, whenever you want?’
‘Yes and no,’ he says. ‘For some time now I’ve been trying to figure out exactly how it works, but the Eye’s visions are … subjective.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaningit’s not as simple as asking to revisit a specific time or place. Sometimes it shows me glimpses of what I want to see, and sometimes it shows me a stream of recollections that flow from that particular moment or memory. Then there are times it’ll give me a vision I was never looking for, almost as if it were trying to tell me something.’
‘Sothat’show you know so much,’ I say.
Fox pops a couple of mint leaves into his mouth and grins at me while he chews. I run my thumb across the Eye of the Past, imagining what it must be like for him, to have history at his fingertips. With this talisman, I could study the Rain Singers. I could unravel the mystery of the Mage boy down in the dungeons, whoever he is. And perhaps I could even discover the truth about myself. About my power. About the storm.
But what of Fox? Where does he fit into all of this?
‘Why were you even searching for it?’ I ask him.
I watch his expression flicker. He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. ‘There were … some questions I wanted the answers to.’
‘What questions?’
Fox twists his Calloway signet ring round his forefinger. ‘You can’t have all my secrets, Storm Weaver,’ he says softly. ‘There wouldn’t be any left for me.’
I swallow my disappointment. Why must he be so infuriatingly cryptic?
‘And what of the Eye of the Future? Where do you suppose it is?’
Fox sighs. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘So it really is lost forever? Safe and hidden, just like Seera wanted?’
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ he says. ‘You see, the Eyes are much like their original owners. They’re sisters. They like to be together. And if put together, all three of them …’ He trails off. ‘Do you understand that to be in possession of the past, the future and power itself would render the bearerinvincible?’
