Saraida’s eyebrows went up, but she appeared to decide this was none of her business. She tugged at her grandmother’s arm. “Let’s go.” Lady Ancarath exhaled sharply through her nose. But she allowed Jacen to take Neri by the shoulder and steer him away from the garden.
“Letgo.” Neri squirmed against his grip and raged, “You have no right to touch me!”
Jacen ignored him until they had reached the far side of the courtyard, beside the statue of Ileth, Lady of Despair. He made Neri face him, crouched to meet his eyes, and ordered, “Tell me what you think you heard.”
“I don’tthinkI heard it,” said Neri. “I know I—” He had to stop for breath, as he’d begun to wheeze. “I heard Lady Ancarath thank a priest for sparing her household this year. She said she traded some workers. She said no one would miss them.” He drew another deep breath and said once more, though his voice trembled, “I know what I heard her say. Someone has to do something.”
Jacen pressed his lips together and nodded. All he could think to say was “Ah.”
“Can she do that?” Neri demanded.
“No,” Jacen said, then grimaced. “I don’t know.” “How can younot know?”
“It’s—” Jacen grappled for an answer he didn’t have. “We can’t choose who gets taken. It’s more likely that woman’s household doesn’t have anyone the gods want this year, and the Church is, er, letting her believe we’ve done her a favor.”
It was a plausible enough explanation. Lady Ancarath was wealthier than the High Lord. Even the Church stood to benefit from her favor, and if they had to lie to obtain it . . . well, they’d lied about worse.
Neri did not seem convinced. He was baffled in the way only the very young could be when confronted with the notion that life wasn’t fair. Jacen himself had already shoved this revelation into the cobwebbed corner of his mind where he kept everything else he wished he didn’t know.
He returned to the more-pressing issue at hand: “Did she say that out loud?” When Neri frowned, Jacen clarified, “Do you remember the exact words she used? Or was it more of a feeling?”
Neri opened his mouth. He shut it.
“Did you see something? Was it like music, or maybe a taste on the air—but you understood it just as you would if someone spoke to you?”
The blood drained from Neri’s face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.” Jacen hesitated. “To me, the Source has a pulse. I can feel it in everyone like a heartbeat. What is it for you?”
Neri’s eyes darted desperately about, looking for an escape and finding none. A moment passed before he relented, so quiet Jacen strained to hear him: “It’s a texture. I’ve always been able to tell if there’s someone nearby, because it feels . . .rough.I can’t really explain it.”
“Extradimensional energy carries thoughts like the wind carries words,” Jacen said softly. “People like us . . . we can’t always help what we overhear. We have to be careful.”
Neri stared at the ground. “Are you going to turn me in?” “No. I told you, I’m a friend of Seth’s.”
“Oh.” Neri frowned, but the iron barriers around his mind loosened a touch. “You’reJacen.”
Jacen bit his tongue before he could ask what, exactly, Seth had told Neri about him. “Does Seth know about this?”
“I’ve never told anyone,” Neri said miserably. “Are they going to Harvest me?”
“Not if you’re careful,” Jacen said, with as much conviction as he could manage. “It will take practice, but you can keep this from happening again.”
“Could I—” Neri swallowed. “What if someone did find out? Could I join the Church?”
Jacen was taken aback. “Do you want that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Neri balanced on his right foot, dragging the deformed left back and forth. He made a frustrated gesture at it. “Maybe then it wouldn’t be so bad that I can’t be a knight. I could study languages and history.”
The hope in his voice was such that, for a heartbeat, Jacen considered it. He scrutinized the boy. Taking into account the defensive training he’d have received courtesy of his high birth, Neri’s mind was difficult to assess. At his age, though, if his eyes had not yet begun to change, they never would. He was far weaker than the average acolyte, less than Fourth Tier strength. The Church would have no use for him. Even if Akkani could be convinced to make an exception, he was too old to begin training.
Telepaths like Neri Semira were good for only one purpose. Jacen couldn’t say it, but Neri knew. Of course he knew.
“Father wouldn’t allow it, anyway,” he mumbled. “He doesn’t like priests.”
“There’s still a great deal I can teach you,” said Jacen. “Send me a letter by pigeon and I’ll visit. Any time you need.” He was surprised to find he meant it.
“I just don’t want to end up like—” Neri seemed to reconsider whatever he’d been about to say and fell silent. Jacen watched him until he sighed and finished. “My father says my mother was Harvested. He said no one would miss her, and those are the sort of people they take. Like Lady Ancarath’s workers. I’m afraid that’s me, too, if I can’t . . .”
