The Orphans' Promise (37 page)

The room grew quiet, everyone feeling uncomfortable about Zarbone’s presence. It was out of the question to involve him any further and put his life in danger. They would have to postpone their discussion until later.

Corenn felt it was the right time to fill them in on her plan. “More than ever, we need information. I think it’s safe to say that everyone now agrees we must go meet with Usul, like Lana suggested?”

They all nodded in agreement, while Zarbone shook his head disapprovingly.

“If we don’t find out anything from our visit with Usul, I propose we resort to another source of knowledge. A lot less mysterious, and probably just as reliable.”

Rey jested, “What? Some other god?”

“No. Something entirely human. The Imperial Eclectic Library in Romine. Perhaps better known as the
Deep Tower Library
.”

“No one can get in there,” Grigán objected, sticking to his role as the voice of reason.

Lana added in a trembling voice, “It’s haunted. They say that ghosts have been watching over it for centuries. I am more willing to go see Usul than enter that dark place.”

Yan, Léti, Rey, and Bowbaq had divided opinions. If Corenn thought it would help them, then they should do it. After all, they had survived so many attacks in the past that a library, even a haunted one, seemed like a fairly safe place. In fact, as soon as the Mother had mentioned it, they were convinced that they would one day go there, no matter what happened…

“I can get you in,” Zarbone announced proudly. “If you really want to, I can help you.”

“How?”

“I have a friend, in Romine, who promised me he knows where to find a few rare items for my own library. I am sure he means the Deep Tower. He never said as much, but the way he eludes my questions is a strong-enough confession.”

“Even if it’s true, why would he help us?”

“I will write you a letter of recommendation. That might convince him. If not, offer him money. Sad to say, but he is always looking to get his hands on more golden monarchs, even though he has as many as I do.”

Corenn and Grigán thanked Zarbone for his help. If someone could get them into the Deep Tower, then their plan could actually work. Lana had already been paralyzed with fear at the idea of meeting Usul, and now she would soon be meeting ghosts too!

“You don’t find this all to be too easy?” Rey asked, serious for once. “Our ancestors tried in vain to unveil the mystery for more
than a century. We’ve already learned more than them in only a few dékades.”

“You think this was easy?” Grigán shouted in disbelief.

“None of them were as motivated as we have been. We don’t have any choice
but
to find out,” Corenn explained.

The warrior couldn’t help but add, “By the way, if you thought this was easy, then good for you; though I fear, Reyan, that the worst is yet to come.”

The next day, all of the heirs but two visited Zarbone’s animal collection. Yan quickly abandoned the others when Corenn offered to teach him more magic. He knew he was nearly finished with the lessons on theory and was anxious to move on to actual practice, mindful that Léti was already a warrior, while he was still just an apprentice sorcerer.

They walked along the sun-drenched beach for the lesson. Corenn passed on her knowledge solely through words, which allowed them to go anywhere for lessons, or even discuss while taking a stroll, which is what they were doing today.

“Did you ever wonder why you passed the test with your shell and not the coin?”

“Yes, of course. At first I thought it was because that coin was ruining my concentration, but I’m guessing it’s more complicated than that. Maybe the earth component was stronger in the shell than in the coin, and therefore easier to manipulate?”

“That could be it,” Corenn admitted. “But for such small objects, the differences aren’t tangible enough for them to have any effect on a spell’s success. It has to do with something else. The
receptiveness
of objects.”

Yan listened closely to the Mother’s explanations. At the end of every lesson, he thought he knew everything there was to know about magic, or close to it. However, Corenn always presented him with new concepts, which he did his best to absorb. He had realized the benefit of these lectures long ago. If he had started using magic haphazardly from the start, he would be like a man who ate unknown mushrooms: dead.

“In theory, all things can be altered, since they contain the four elements. But in practice, magicians have noticed differences in receptiveness, even between similar objects, like two staffs made from the same tree, for example. It remains unexplained. It’s magic’s biggest mystery.”

Yan’s eyes widened. It was the first time the Mother didn’t offer him some interpretation, not even a personal theory, on an aspect of their power.

“Some speak of a fifth element,” she continued. “Something we would call
recept
. But no one has managed to really define it, nor explain how it works. What seems to be true is that the recept is more present in things that have been the object of human attention. The stronger the recept in the object, the easier it is to apply your Will to it. But even this general rule suffers from exceptions and doesn’t always hold.”

“Can an object’s recept vary from one day to the next?”

Corenn praised him, “Good question. No, if it’s strong one day, it’s just as strong the next, and even the year after. Perhaps it could change over a few centuries, but no one could possibly live long enough to know that for certain.”

The two were reminded of the strange discovery from the evening before. Nol. He might have lived long enough. The idea had crossed their minds that Nol may be their enemy, but the implications were so dark that they avoided talking about it.

“I have heard stories, however, though they’re rare, about objects with an exceptional recept that was completely lost after being manipulated by an excessive application of Will. Magicians call these objects
exhausted
. From then on, they will always be immune to power. I’ve never witnessed it myself.”

“It’s a shame,” Yan commented, studying his medallion.

He thought about the one he had given Léti. It had been easy to force the scroll to penetrate the opal. The gem’s recept must have been quite strong. Was the opal
exhausted
now? If so, what he wrote on the scroll would last forever—an idea that brought a smile to the young man’s face.

“You’re now a full-fledged magician, Yan. You practically know as much as me. One last thing that I need to remind you of: True power isn’t in the excessive use of Will, but in how intelligently you use it. Magic doesn’t put you above others. It makes you responsible for them.”

Yan nodded, solemnly. He took Corenn’s advice very seriously. He was no longer the naïve fisherman from a small Kaulien village. He was a man who had faced death, traveled across several countries, and tackled problems he never could have imagined. He had always been smart and now here he was, absorbing the wisdom of his ancestors.

“Good! Now, all we have to do is find you a name. It’s customary,” she noted, cheerfully. “What do you think about Yan the Curious?”

“Um… I don’t know… isn’t that kind of negative?” he responded, surprised.

“So Yan the Faithful then? By tradition, the master is the one who chooses her apprentice’s name. But I wouldn’t want to pick one that doesn’t please you.”

“The Curious will be fine then,” he confirmed, frightened by the possibility of being called the Faithful.

He wondered how the Mother came up with these ideas. She had the habit of switching from serious conversations to friendly banter in an instant.

“Well, then. Let’s go introduce ourselves to Zarbone, Yan the Curious. Formal introductions are customary for our fellowship of magicians.”

They found the old man walking around his pens, boasting to the others about his climbing snakes, golden ibexes, and other rare animals that were the prize of his collection. Léti struggled to restrain Frog, who was dead set on greeting each and every animal. The dwarf cat was such a rebel that for a moment she thought about renaming it Reyan.

“Master Zarbone,” the Mother announced, leading him aside. “I’m Corenn the Acute, and this is Yan the Curious. We’re both earth specialists.”

“Delighted to meet you,” the governor responded, playing along. “I’m Zarbone the Collector, of course. A wind specialist in my day. It’s been ages since I’ve practiced.”

They broke into a technical conversation, leaving the others to continue their tour. Yan rejoiced inside. For the first time in his life, he had completed an apprenticeship. He had a talent that was all his own, and he was part of a fellowship.

Finally, he had something to offer Léti.

Their visit with Zarbone was only a stop in their journey, and they didn’t want to jeopardize a man who had helped them so much. They would embark that very night for the Guoris’s Sacred Island. What he had taught them about Romine’s Deep Tower was enough to earn their profound gratitude.

Lana looked at these men and women as they prepared to leave. They had immediately accepted her as one of their own. Which, in reality she was, of course, since she was a descendant of the wise from Ji just like the rest of them. But her new friends all shared a common violence, a certain fury to live, which she didn’t think she had. She found herself almost envious of their drive and will.

To leave them was unthinkable. Sure, they carried weapons, and hardly gave a thought to the Moral of Eurydis, but she needed them, for their protection and their friendship.

Her preparations consisted solely of a long prayer, in which she confessed all her fears and regrets about exposing so many people to the dangers of a visit with Usul. She asked the Goddess to watch over them and to bring them peace of mind. She prayed that if things turned out badly that the Goddess at least protect the youngest in their group.

There was no particular ritual for a Eurydian prayer outside of the Temple. One could call on the Goddess from anywhere, as desired, as long as they did so respectfully. Lana was content to sit against a tree and close her eyes. When she opened them, she was surprised to see Léti at her side.

A strange spectacle she was, this young woman dressed in leather and steel, carrying a rapier and a knife, yet she ardently prayed to the Goddess of peace.
Violence is not in our hearts
, she thought,
but in our memories…
Léti had been through so many trials.

The Maz gently placed a hand on Léti’s shoulder, who pushed her hand away by reflex, before realizing, embarrassed, who had put it there.

“I’m sorry, I… I was just thinking about…”

“It’s nothing,” assured Lana, who could only imagine what difficult memories could be tormenting her. “We are all a little nervous. I just wanted to let you know I am heading back to the house.”

“I’ll come with you.”

They found the others at Zarbone’s house, where they had planned to eat a last meal together before leaving. The old man was morose. He had spent the entire day trying to dissuade them from going to see Usul, convinced that it would be the last time he would see them.

As for the heirs, they showed no signs of regret. They would leave their friend still
alive
, which was reason enough to rejoice. That night, they were convinced they would have their answers. That night, they would finally know the name of their enemy. They had been waiting for this moment for so long that the horrors mentioned in the legends about Usul seemed trivial.

Besides, Lana was a Maz. That also gave them confidence. Gods must have a certain respect for a Maz, right?

They had no idea, of course, that Lana was the most terrified of them all.

The heirs quickly finished their meal and returned to the
Othenor
. Zarbone accompanied them and bid them good luck on the beach. Grigán promised him that he would return as soon as possible, once they had resolved their problems. The old man refrained from reminding the warrior that he had been swimming in troubled waters for twenty years and still hadn’t managed to find his way out yet.