In answer she took the scroll and unrolled it upon her lap. After a brief hesitation, in which she seemed to struggle with a decision, she handed it over to Caleb without looking.
It was tattered and stained, as if it had traveled many miles exposed to the weather. Words were written upon it in a hasty scrawl, and though a few letters were blurred or missing, enough remained to be legible:
Lefatéi, Captive of Secrets, sends an empty gift to a man from the stars. Let no one else lay hands on it! Only when he remembers the moment his child was born can it be made complete.
— the Master of Secrets
Caleb read the scroll several times. He faced the Overseer, forcing the voice from his lungs as if his words had taken on substance and weight.
“I don’t understand. An empty gift? And who is this
Master of Secrets
?”
“It’s meant to both hide the messenger’s identity and to provide a clue to the message.” She pointed at a hastily-drawn feather just below the signature. “Here it means Telai’s been captured by the Hodyn.”
He scanned the message again. “I don’t see her name anywhere. And this isn’t her writing.”
“No. One of the Hodyn wrote it. But
Lefatéi
means
lover of knowledge
, a secret nickname I called her when she was a girl. No Hodyn could possibly know that.”
He waited in silence, rendered speechless as she continued. “Caleb Stenger, before I reveal the rest of what I know about this message, you must swear an oath to me—one you’re willing to place even above the Oath of the Raéni. You must promise that nothing of what you hear in this room will ever leave it.”
Caleb, who appreciated the Oath now more than ever, nonetheless remained unburdened by any of its nurtured taboos. “You have it.”
Garda stood, waving him back to his seat as he rose to join her. She turned her gaze to the windows, arms folded. “He’s never revealed his true name. It would be too great a risk in the event his messages were intercepted. But I know he’s a captain in the Hodyn army. I’ve developed a secret rapport with him over the years.”
A sudden light dawned in Caleb’s mind. “Because of the old letter Telai found!”
“What? How do you know about that?”
Understandable as her reaction was, it caught him off guard, and he chose his words carefully. “She told me about what she found in Léiff, and how it led her to a new interpretation of Obald’s writings.”
Garda appraised him a while longer, as though reevaluating her trust in him. Her face softened. “I guess I shouldn’t be so shocked. I hardly need more proof of my daughter’s faith in you. But I hope you appreciate what an honor and privilege it was for her to tell you.”
Caleb nodded. “In many ways.”
“Then let me privilege you further by telling you that not even Telai knows about this secret movement within the Hodyn. It’s one I’ve tried to encourage these last few years. They’re stubborn—they seldom listen to my pleas for compromise, caught up as they are in the same desire for revenge they’ve been taught since childhood. But I knew it was the right course. I hoped the time would come when we could heal the breach that’s kept us hating each other for centuries.”
“An honorable goal, my lady.” His voice rose. “But it only explains how you got the message, not what it means!”
“Patience, Caleb Stenger. I must consider Ada first. One way or another there’s a real possibility I won’t be able to continue this secret work much longer. I’m looking for someone to take over if that happens.”
He paused, speechless for a moment. “You’re asking
me
?“
“I need someone who by nature of his upbringing harbors no prejudices against the Hodyn. As much as I hope otherwise, I don’t see how Ekendoré can survive this war. If our people are driven out as refugees, they will need a leader with more survival skills than political ones. I’ve asked Soren to replace me if that happens.”
“As
Overseer
?” Caleb asked. Soren had nearly chopped his head off in a rage. The idea of him becoming the next Overseer was a little intimidating.
“Yes. But he would be the absolute worst choice for a more secretive role, one that would instantly label him a traitor as soon as it was discovered. You, however—”
“Of course,” Caleb interrupted. “Not only am I well suited for my lack of prejudices, but labeling me as a traitor wouldn’t be much of a step down.”
Distaste overwhelmed her features. “Please understand that I’m forced into this decision for the best interests of my people.
I
may trust you, but a certain lack of trust from others places you in the best position to protect Soren’s role as leader.”
“And if they
did
find out, it would destroy any chance I had of regaining that trust—including Soren’s!”
“Are you refusing?”
Caleb fixed a long stare on the Overseer, but she weathered it, as unflinching as stone. “Before I answer, you need to understand that others might end up sharing my risk,” he said.
“How do you mean?”
“You’ll understand in a moment. I’ll agree to your request on one condition.”
A flash of irritation tightened her lips. “Go on.”
“Annul the law that prevents the Joining of civilian and soldier—
before
Soren becomes Overseer.”
Garda paled; apparently her daughter’s capture wasn’t the only future she dreaded. “Now? We’re at war! Besides, it’s an ancient law, one I have no authority to repeal without the approval of the Council.”
Caleb shook his head. “Kerraél allows the Overseer as many legal workarounds as it does the Supreme Raén.”
“What? That information is only meant for a select few ears, Caleb Stenger.”
“I know. Soren told me. He said it was his absolution for past mistakes. And please don’t ask what they were,” he said to her questioning frown. “That’s up to him.”
“He actually approves of a Joining between you and Telai? The Supreme Raén of Ada?”
“Yes. He said he’d be honored to consider me his son.”
Garda trembled where she stood, her eyes deep wells of longing. For a terrifying moment Caleb feared she might collapse.
“My lady?”
“I never dreamed he would—” she began in a whisper, then clamped her mouth shut and squared her shoulders. “You have my promise, Caleb Stenger. I hope to Etrenga it won’t be in vain.”
“Thank you. Now
please
,” he said, spreading his shaking hands, “tell me what this message is about!”
Garda reached inside the pocket of her robe, and brought out a soft leather bundle tied with thongs. She handed it to him at once. “I haven’t touched it, as the message asked. I still don’t know what it means.”
Caleb laid the bundle on his lap and undid the thongs. A faint reflection caught his attention, and he unfolded the leather to reveal a thin, transparent cylinder.
A chill settled into his heart. For the man who had risked everything to reach Graxmoar, there was no mistaking the small portal of bluish light, nor the jagged end where it had been severed from its mate.
12
Fulfillment of Duty
Loyalty is what keeps love burning the longest.
- Allera, 2
nd
Underseer of Spierel
TELAI RODE
the runners, her gloved hands clamped tight around the handles, her stare blank and expressionless. Every passing minute was an exercise in self-discipline, every lurch of the sled or any other minor difficulty a temptation to scream aloud. Yet she drove on, desperate to escape the oppressiveness of these woods to where she could at least face her burden in the clear light of day.
Morning dawned pale above the towering forest. Ksoreda and his strange dwelling among the trees lay far behind them. Despite his Prophet-like creed of noninterference, after helping Fedrallo load the sleds with supplies he had instantly transported them many miles toward the edge of his domain, thus saving at least a half day’s travel. Tenlar and Telai accepted it without comment, anxious to return to Ekendoré before all hope was lost.
They stopped for a short rest, the dogs panting heavily as they lay on the snow. Tenlar kept glancing at Telai. “Is the Lor’yentré safe?” he asked. “Ksoreda mentioned something about a foolproof way to hide it.”
“He told me what to do,” she answered flatly.
There was a brief pause. “I will say it again. There are many in Ada ready to accept this burden—”
“I will not debate this,” she interrupted, her voice like steel. “This goes far beyond pity, or any heroics of the Raéni. You have no more choice about it than I do.”
His expression hardened. “Choice? It was shoved down your throat, Telai! Besides, I have the authority to—”
“No!” she shouted. “You think you can use your authority over me
now
? All other obligations mean nothing compared to this, including your precious Oath.” She bowed her head, struggling to calm herself.
“Telai … I only want to help.”
“Then help me! I need strength to see this through, not pointless arguments!”
Telai rose from the sled to resume the journey, keeping her back turned while she checked the harnesses. She knew she was being unkind, but his constant pity and concern was too much. She took the lead without asking and sped directly toward the eastern edge of the forest, hoping to put the last of its influence behind before nightfall.
Finally the trees ended, and the light of early evening revealed wide, snow-mantled meadows full of the spent brown stalks of wildflowers. They did not stop until the expanse of Lrana lay before them, its frozen waters lit pale by the rising moon. They fed their weary dogs, and after lighting a fire ate a large supper to keep up their strength, using much of their old stores.
Though the long day’s run had exhausted them both, Telai could not sleep. She lay with her back turned, as far from her companion as possible, her terror too deep for words or even tears. To give up the life she had known was a sacrifice she might have come to accept. But the prospect of eternal isolation—made even worse by the terrible crime she would be forced to commit against the child she loved, the child she had sworn to save—stripped away her courage, leaving no refuge.
♦
The sun rose brilliantly, full of the promise of good weather, yet each passing hour only increased Telai’s fears. Tenlar seemed more like a stranger to her now. Everything before her held threat: the snow-covered ice, the sparse mountains rising tall and white beyond the lake, the blue, cloud-flecked sky above. An intangible presence loomed over the eastern horizon, still unaware of her approach but ready in an instant to take form and descend with terrible power. At first she dismissed it as her imagination. But it grew stronger with each mile, until it took all her will to concentrate on the trail ahead.
They hurried across the lake, their sleds lurching from side to side as the runners caught icy ridges hidden under the snow. By midday tears were streaming from their bloodshot eyes with the threat of snow blindness. They brought their hoods down as far as possible to shield against the glare, but it was not much help.
Fortunately it did not last. Lrana was narrower here, and they reached the opposite shore well before evening, welcoming the gloom of tall conifers that grew on the strip of land between lake and mountain. They camped in a secluded hollow between the first few hills, and though they were far from Enilií, Telai insisted they take turns keeping watch that night.
Within an hour of their start the next morning they began climbing the gentle approach to the mountains. The scattered peaks of the Irenseni allowed easy passage, yet the way was long, with a strong headwind slowing their efforts. By the time the endless plain of Dernetondé stretched before them, the sun was reddening the high winter clouds.
They turned south, avoiding the inhospitable interior of the wasteland. Tenlar cast about for a well-concealed spot to halt for the night, and soon found one in the tall evergreen shrubbery so prevalent near the foothills here. They set up camp, fed the dogs, then sat outside the tent eating a cold meal. It was a relief to be out of the wind for a while.
“Something’s coming,” Telai murmured. She turned her gaze to the eastern twilight, ignoring the plate of food on her lap.
“Then you’ve seen some vision in the disc—the one Yoté returned.”
She shook her head. “It’s never worked well since then. I wish I’d thought to ask Ksoreda about it.”
“You had … other things on your mind,” Tenlar replied. She bent her head, and he added, “Troubles always seem worse at night. Don’t worry about it until you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
His token attempts at comfort curled her hands into fists. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him to stop coddling her like a frail child. “I’ve felt this more than ever since we passed the mountains,” Telai said at last. “It’s getting closer.” She waited for his reply, still unwilling to look upon him, then spread her arms in exasperation. “Don’t you feel
anything
?”
“I’m afraid of what waits for us in Ekendoré, of course! And the farther south we go, the more we’ll have to watch for Hodyn patrols. But something getting closer? No. I’ve seldom doubted your insight, Telai. But it’s no wonder you feel this way, with the burden you’re carrying.”
His words only fueled her panic. “I can’t make that assumption.”
Tenlar set his plate aside and heaved a sighed. “Even if you’re right, what can we do about it?”
She rose her head sharply. “The fate of Ada hangs in the balance, and you ask me what to do? If you can’t bring yourself to help, then why are you here? Go back to Spierel and your precious
duty,
” she cried, waving her arm to the south.
They locked stares. Then she jumped to her feet, spilling her food, and ran off into the darkness.
She heard Tenlar stumble and curse as he leaped up to follow. “Telai, wait!” he called out. “I didn’t mean it that way.”