“Can you give it more power?” Ashlin asked.
Aizel’s mouth spread into a firm line.
Meena did not think they were going to like the answer.
Aizel kept her eyes on the tapestry as she answered the question. “Only someone who knew what the original tapestry looked like could imbue the needle with the magic to share that knowledge with someone else. I could fill it’s reserve with magic, but it would only be the kind of power that increased the needle’s ability to be a better needle.”
“Like not leaving behind a gaping whole every time it is pressed through the fabric?” Meena asked, trying to figure out how a needle could be better at its own function.
“Precisely.” Aizel nodded at Meena, but her gaze quickly returned to Ashlin.
The seamstress set the needle on the table in front of her. “We failed.”
Meena looked around the room. The somber faces, lit from below by the flickering candlelight, made her want to flee from the room. “No.” Meena stepped closer to Ashlin, throwing her arms around Ashlin and her brother. “You did not fail. You and Onric were the first to believe that the magic might be different from what we believed. You were willing to restore this tapestry even though using the needle itself was outlawed. And, you sabotaged King Gareth’s first attempt to attack Ian.”
“That is not the failure she was referring to,” Aizel’s soft voice broke the silence. “Those feats you mentioned are noteworthy, but the loss of this ...” She spread her hands delicately over the tapestry in front of her, focusing on a particularly destroyed section. “We failed to recover this. This was part of my story.”
“I’m so sorry.” Ashlin turned her face away from the table, as though she was too pained to look at the tapestry any longer.
Aizel opened her mouth, but closed it, swallowing audibly.
“But you saved nearly six panels before the needle was drained,” Meena said, her eyes looking from Ashlin to Aizel. “Surely this is not a complete loss. And there are so many panels which were undamaged, at least twenty.”
“Sixteen.” Ashlin threw Meena a sad smile, pushing herself out of Onric’s embrace. She picked up a length of dark blue thread and started to deftly wrap it around her fingers, securing it in a skein for storage. “I know you want to make this better. You’re just like Onric. But there are four more panels which are permanently destroyed. It doesn’t sound like much, but we think they were destroyed because they contained important information about magic and its history.”
“How much of my story will I never know?” Aizel asked.
Meena felt her own shoulders deflate. She couldn’t fix this. Every problem seemed more tangled than the ruined sections of the tapestry itself.
Chapter 6
“This is the back door you referred to?” Sol asked, looking down at the iron grate Robin had uncovered on the forest floor. Sol kept his tone light, but wanted to truly convey his doubt.
“Would you prefer to walk up to the front gate and announce your presence?” Robin replied, throwing her weight against the rusted latch.
“I would prefer not to be immediately murdered upon entry,” Sol mumbled, gripping the dagger that now hung from his belt. “If you truly trust theseallies, why are you sending me through a secret escape route no one but the royal family is supposed to be aware of?”
Robin stood. “I do trust the Sirilians. Mostly. I am not going to ask you to blindly trust them based on my word. They would not kill you on sight if you approached the front gate, but if you’ve never been up close and personal with a king before, you can’t just walk up to their home and demand to speak with them.”
Sol exhaled. “I don’t have time for jesting.”
Robin dropped her voice into a lower register. “This way gives you control over your entrance. The passage comes up in an old, unused portion of the castle. You can do what you do best. Enter the enemy’s lair. Scope out his strengths and weaknesses, then act on your plan.”
Sol nodded. He appreciated the straightforward honesty.
“You can also find Aizel first. She will have more timely knowledge of where the kingdoms currently stand, and she can walk you into the king’s home.”
“Thank you, Lady Robin.” Sol dipped his head in a small token of his respect.
Robin threw her arms around his neck. “It was good to meet you in person after all these seasons of working together.” Her voice was thick and full of emotion in his ear.
“This will not be our last meeting.” He slowly put his arms around the Quotidian woman who had helped countless people escape Istroya. It felt nice to hold her, but he was not used to such blatant displays of affection. His body tensed at her closeness. It was nice. But it was unexpected and not a comfort he’d ever had consistently.
“I will aid you as I can in Falqri.” Robin stepped back.
“You have done enough,” Sol responded, adjusting the satchel of food and clothing Robin had given him. “I will not ask you to endanger more than you already have.”
“And you have not done enough?” Robin raised her eyebrows, challenging his statement.
