Page 52

When the few metal-forged in their clan had last visited a well, it was when their greatest threat was other humans, not the dakii. Without access to a well to reforge, they’d been stuck with those less ideal weapons.

Until now.

She could see Pyetar watching them on the other side of the crowd, too. His face was unusually relaxed and open. She offered him a quick, private smile when his eyes landed briefly on hers. His smile back was comforting.

Everyone seemed happy to linger in the courtyard after weeks spent inside. They had mostly huddled in their rooms, though their fire-imbued gear kept the temperatures from being too uncomfortable when they did venture out. And they’d helped with some errands for the temple, standing guard, running some patrols, but still. No one liked being stuck inside for so long.

It typically snowed half the days during the Cold Moon, slowly building up the blanket of white. The snow was usually gentle, but strong gusts and blizzards weren’t unheard of in the second half of the month. With their fire-imbued gear, they could easily hike back in the first half of the month, but the real dangers were getting caught in a blizzard or waiting too long while the snow piled up. They had all brought snowshoes in their packs just in case, but hopefully they wouldn’t need them.

The urge to hurry everyone along, to have them prepare to head out was strong, but Iryana didn’t want to ruin this moment. Everyone was getting along. She stood among them, enjoying it.

No fights broke out, no snide remarks were made, people just slowly peeled off naturally to go back to their own spaces.

As the crowd was dissipating, Keeper Tomislav appeared at her side, Pyetar already in tow.

“A moment, Third?” the old Keeper asked, gesturing for her and Pyetar to follow him into a side chamber.

Iryana followed, meeting Pyetar’s curious gaze. He looked at her as if he expected she knew what the Keeper would want. She did not.

When they had stepped mostly inside the small chamber, the space so dark compared to all the white in the courtyard reflecting the snow, Iryana’s anxiety peaked.

“We just received word from a sister temple—” the Keeper began, fussing over his words in a way she hadn’t heard him do before. “It’s really just a rumor. An unconfirmed one.”

“What is the rumor, Keeper?” Pyetar demanded, though more gently than he would with his soldiers.

Iryana felt herself leaning toward the Keeper. He was avoiding their eyes. After facing all the horrors inside her, all the horrors of so many others, now he was nervous?

“A well was drained.”

“Drained?” Iryana blinked. “Drained of what?”

Pyetar’s eyes narrowed.

The Keeper finally met her eyes. “Drained of magic.”

She had to play back those words a dozen times before she truly processed them. A well had been drained of its magic? She’d never heard of such a thing. The wells in Istri had been there for hundreds of years, people forging weapons and tools in them for countless generations. How could a well lose its magic?

“Which well?” Pyetar asked, breaking the silence. “Another of Noshtiz’s?”

“I don’t know. I assume they are trying to keep it quiet. Someone overheard it being discussed but wasn’t able to get more information. It’s a rumor at best.”

They were quiet, sitting in the impossibility of such a thing. Letting it fester in the air between them.

“Do you have any idea what this could mean? Any records of this happening before?” Iryana asked, watching his reaction intently.

“No, nothing.” He worried his jaw back and forth, looking out toward the courtyard. “I have ideas, but none so good as to be called a theory even.”

“Would you share with us?” Pyetar asked.

The Keeper sighed. “I wonder if the creation of the dakii is sucking the magic out of the wells. If we’re only now noticing because there are finally enough of them. Or perhaps the poppies are draining the magic out of the ground?”

They weren’t bad theories, but Iryana had no way to confirm them. It was one more hint that things were changing, and it had to all be connected. Somehow.

“I have already sent word back asking if there are more details, or if we can trace the contact down and find out more from the source.” The Keeper sighed. “But you know what travel is like this time of year. It will be hard to learn anything in a reasonable amount of time.”

“We appreciate anything you can do,” Iryana said, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Can you send word the moment you hear anything?” Pyetar asked.