The old man shakes his head.
‘So what happened? Were they killed?’
‘Sifa and Seera met their ends, yes. But not before they cast one last enchantment. You remember the sisters’ talismans?’
I nod.
‘Well, these talismans were no ordinary Magi relics. They were crafted by a Magi Goddess, each one a small golden pendant shaped like an eye.’
A strange shiver runs through me. ‘An eye?’ I repeat.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘The Eye of the Past, the Eye of the Future, and the Eye of the Soul, which was the key to power itself. Terrified of what would happen if these precious talismans fell into the wrong hands, Sifa and Seera decided to hide them. Together they scattered the Eye of the Past and the Eye of the Future where they believed they would never be found.’
‘And the third sister? What happened to her?’
‘Syla was captured by the Etheri,’ says the old man. ‘She was taken to Ostacre and brought before Emperor Caius.’
Caius Castellion, Hal’s – and, I suppose, Fox’s – grandfather, is rarely seen at court. They say he’s crippled with age, muddled and confused, unable even to tell his two sons apart.
‘Did he execute her?’ I ask.
Thousands of Magi were executed after the war. As for those permitted to live, they returned home to the Otherlands, powerless and impoverished, forced to await the slave ships that arrived every few years to take their children.
I think of Elva, and my chest tightens.
‘No, Syla was not executed.’
I try to sound indifferent. ‘Then what became of her?’
‘She lived out her days as a servant of the Etheri.’
I frown. ‘I don’t understand. You said she was the most powerful of them all. Surely she could have just killed the emperor. Killed everybody. Escaped.’
The old man angles his head. ‘Is that what you would do, girl?’
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious.
A ghost of a smile tugs at his pale lips. ‘Yet what if I told you that your life cost the life of someone you loved. Someone … breakable. Tell me, what would you do then?’
‘But Sifa and Seera were killed,’ I say slowly.
‘This is a tale of the three sisters, yet what if I told you there happened to be a fourth,’ says the old man. ‘And in some ways she proved to be the most important of all. Senna was young, only a child, sweet and pure and defenceless. A little girl whom Syla loved more than anyone in this world. A sister whom she would doanythingto protect.’
I shake my head. ‘That’s sickening.’
‘Life is sickening, Storm Weaver. But it is always preferable to death.’
I swallow. ‘So they took her? The fourth sister? They kept her as a bargaining chip, asbait, so that Syla would be their puppet?’
He claps his hands gleefully. ‘Oh, very good.’
My heart thuds painfully. ‘And did they hurt her? The little girl?’
‘As long as Syla did the emperor’s bidding, Senna was unharmed. She was given a room, here in the palace. Naturally, her identity was kept under wraps, but she had a nursemaid and was treated with kindness. She was even allowed to visit her sister.’
‘Visit her where?’
‘Where do you think, girl? Syla was kept where all criminals are kept. The dungeons. Though of course, not many prisoners of war can boast a cell made from purest crystal.’
