The Shadow Of What Was Lost (21 page)

He turned to Davian and Caeden,
seeing their blank expressions. “Alchesh was an Augur from the time of the
Eternity War. The stories say he was so immensely powerful, he was driven mad
by seeing too much of what was to come,” he explained. “After the Boundary was
created, he foretold that it would one day fail, that Devaed and his armies
would eventually be freed. People took it seriously for a long time. They
manned forts, checked the Boundary regularly for any signs of attack.

"After a few centuries
without so much as a sighting, though, a lot of people began to think that
Alchesh's foretelling must have been a result of his madness - that not even a
powerful Gifted like Devaed could still be alive after so many years. The
opinion became popular enough that the Old Religion eventually struck Alchesh's
visions from their canon and declared the Eternity War over. Soldiers were
reassigned, and the Tols gradually stopped taking their readings. People forgot
about the north as they focused on more immediate threats - the civil war in
Narut, then the constant little skirmishes between Desriel and Andarra, Andarra
and Nesk. After that, there was the Great War with the Eastern Empire.”

He shrugged, turning his
attention back to Wirr. "And maybe Alchesh really was mad - but it doesn't
change the fact that the Boundary failing right now is a problem. I can't say
anything for certain about Devaed, but I
saw
that dar'gaithin corpse,
and we can tell from the stories that those are fearsome, malevolent,
intelligent creatures. Should they break through in numbers, they're going to
attack regardless of whether they have any guiding force behind them.”

Wirr thought for a moment, then
gave a reluctant nod. “You’re right,” he admitted. “If those creatures really
do exist, then it almost doesn’t matter whether Devaed is alive - even by
themselves, they're worse than anything the Gil'shar could hit us with. If the
Tols aren’t prepared, we’ll be massacred.” His shoulders slumped. “There’s
truly no better option?”

“If you think of one, we will
take it,” said Taeris seriously.

“What about your Travel Stones?”
Davian shrugged as everyone turned to look at him. “Couldn’t we just send one
across the border, then use the other to create a portal?”

Taeris shook his head. “Even if
we found someone trustworthy to take one into Andarra, it wouldn’t work.
Creating a portal uses a vast amount of Essence, which needs to be stored up in
the stones before they will work. I keep them on me so they constantly feed
from my Reserve, but any more than a trickle and I’d be setting off Finders...
it took me two months to charge them, last time. We won’t be able to hide here
for that long.”

“Then it’s Thrindar,” concluded
Wirr unhappily. He looked across at Davian. “I can't say as I like it, but he’s
right. If we don’t get back to Tol Athian, find out what's going on with the
Boundary, we could be risking far worse than Desriel’s army.”

They walked in silence for a
while. After a few minutes, Taeris dropped back beside Davian, tugging on his
sleeve to indicate that he should slow down. Wirr was talking cheerfully to
Caeden – about what Davian wasn’t sure, but the two of them were laughing. He
smiled. Caeden had looked dazed, lost, ever since he’d woken, but Wirr was
always the right person to put someone at ease.

Taeris glanced at the two boys up
ahead, frowning. “You and Wirr need to be careful,” he said, keeping his voice
low.

Davian followed his gaze. “Of
Caeden?” he asked. “You think he’s hiding something?”

“Oh, I believe him well enough,”
replied Taeris. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t murder those people, or that
he isn’t complicit in what’s happened to you. For all you know, that box could
have been meant to restore his memories, after which he may have been meant to
kill you.” He sighed. “I’m not saying that’s what I think. But it
is
a
possibility.”

Davian looked at Caeden again.
Could this young man, laughing and joking with his friend, really be a killer?

“What
do
you think?” he
asked.

Taeris didn’t reply for a few
moments. “I think there are a handful of people
in the world
who could
have translated what the sha’teth said to me last night,” he said quietly.
“What that means… I don’t know. But if he turns out to be an enemy – well, you
need to stay on your guard.”

Davian swallowed. “And if we
discover he really is dangerous, when we restore his memories at the Tol?”

“Then at least we’ve chosen the
battleground,” observed Taeris.

Without anything further he
increased his pace again, quickly catching up to the other two. Davian soon
joined them, but he kept mostly silent as they talked.

Taeris had given him much to
think about.

Asha leaned back in her chair and
glanced around the library for what was probably the hundredth time that day,
unable to concentrate on the work laid out in front of her.

It had been almost a week since
the Sanctuary and there had been no sign of the Northwarden, nor any indication
that the Shadraehin had followed through on his plan. She sighed, shuffling the
pages in front of her. She still half-expected everything to go horribly wrong
when the duke found out about her, but now she just wished it was done either
way. The waiting, the uncertainty, was worse by far.

"The book's that exciting,
is it?"

She turned to see Tendric
watching her with a mildly amused smile. She forced a smile back, hoping that
the sudden twisting of her stomach wasn't evident on her face. Tendric was
Jin's replacement; she didn't know whether he was one of the Shadraehin's
people, but she suspected not. He seemed to share the same dolorous outlook on
life that Raden and most of the others had, the kind of Shadow she studiously
avoided when she could.

"I'm just tired," she
lied, hoping the man would leave her alone.

Instead Tendric took a seat
opposite her. He looked around, then leaned forward a little, lowering his
voice.

"I've been wanting to ask.
Do you know where Jin went?"

Asha shook her head, unable to
look him in the eye. "No idea."

Tendric sighed, looking
disappointed but nodding. "Raden said the last time he saw him was with
you. I was hoping maybe he'd said something before he disappeared... I can't
say his is a job that I'd really hoped to be doing," he admitted.

"He didn't say
anything," Asha reiterated, just wanting the conversation to be over.

The curly-haired Shadow was
apparently oblivious to her discomfort. "But he didn't seem worried at all
that day? Jumpy?" he pressed. "Haliden says he probably just got
tired of things here and left, but Raden thinks something else happened to him.
Like maybe he got on the wrong side of the crowd he was involved with... if you
know what I mean." He shook his head, clearly more interested in spreading
gossip than Asha's opinion. "In which case he brought it on himself, I
suppose."

Asha knew she shouldn't say
anything, but it was too much.

"Fates, Tendric! I'm sure it
had nothing to do with the Shadraehin," she snapped, unable to keep the
anger from her voice. "Jin was a good man, and Raden is a slimy little
fool if he's spreading lies like that."

Tendric gaped at her a little,
taken aback by the outburst.

"I... uh. Sorry," he
said after a moment, looking guilty. "You're right. I'm sure Jin's
fine."

Asha set her jaw, glancing at the
Decay Clock. It wasn't quite the end of the day, but it was close enough.

"I have to go," she
said, pushing back her chair and gesturing to the papers on her desk.
"I'll finish these up tomorrow."

She walked off, leaving Tendric
gaping after her.

Once she reached her room she
closed the door behind her and collapsed on the bed, trying to shut out the
image of Jin's final moments. She stared up at the ceiling, the frustration and
pain of the last few weeks welling up inside her, threatening to break free.
She wasn't sure how much more of being here at the Tol, like this, she could
take. She emitted a long, deep sigh.

From the corner of her room,
there came a polite cough.

“Ashalia, I presume?”

Asha leapt up again to see two
men standing at the far end of the room, having apparently appeared from thin
air. A man and a boy, she realised on closer inspection. The boy was near her
age, short and thin, with a pallid complexion. A servant of some kind, she
thought. The man, though….

A rich blue cloak. Tall, and
though he looked older, his blond hair had not yet faded. He had a strong jaw
and piercing blue eyes, as well as a little beard that on most people would
have looked like an affectation, but instead gave him a dignified air.

"Who are you?" she
asked shakily, though she already knew the answer.

"Duke Elocien Andras,"
said the Northwarden. He held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Please,
don't be alarmed. I'm only here for information."

Asha nodded, trying to gather her
scattered thoughts; though she had been expecting this, she was still dazed
that it was actually happening. She glanced towards the door, which was still
shut. "How did you get in here? Your Grace," she added hurriedly.

"I will explain later."
Suddenly the duke frowned, turning to glance at his servant, who leaned over
and whispered something in his ear. He faced Asha again, studying her for a
long few seconds in silence.

"It seems this was a waste
of time," he said. "I am sorry to have bothered you."

Asha gaped at him for a moment,
confused. She hadn't known what to expect from her meeting with the
Northwarden, but summary dismissal hadn't been one of the possibilities she'd
considered.

"Please, don't go," she
said quickly, desperation in her voice. She didn't know what she would do if
she lost this opportunity. "I want to help you find out what happened to
my friends, if I can. I want to know who killed them, and why."

The Northwarden turned, scowling,
and looked about to make a retort when his eyes fell upon some of the loose
pages on her desk. He closed his mouth, frowning, and stepped closer to examine
them.

“You knew these people?”

Asha nodded. She’d been sketching
some pictures of her friends at the school in her free time, something she'd
wanted to do before their faces became too dim in her memory. There were plenty
of images of Davian, and a few of Wirr and the others, too. She’d been told,
some time ago, that she had a talent for drawing. It had helped her pass the
time, and to deal with her grief.

Asha swallowed the lump in her
throat that formed every time she thought of Davian. “They’re my friends, Your
Grace,” she said softly. “The ones who died.”

The duke stared at her for a few
moments, his expression softening.

“Tell me about them.” It was a
request rather than a command.

Asha hesitated. A part of her
didn’t want to share her memories of Davian and Wirr with this man. But it felt
good to remember.

“Davian is sweet. A little too
quiet, sometimes; he gets wrapped up in his problems and forgets he can share
the burden. But he’s honest, and smart, and loyal.” She smiled as she talked
about him. “Wirr is loud and brash. He’ll sometimes act before he thinks it through,
but then is clever enough to fix whatever he did wrong before he gets in too
much trouble. He’s funny and good at….” She gestured vaguely. “Well, he’s good
at everything, truth be told. And he knows it. He’s not arrogant, mind you, but
he’s more confident than anyone has a right to be. It drives the Elders mad,
actually.” She felt her expression twist as she realised she had been talking
about them in the present tense. “Drove them mad, I mean,” she amended softly.

She looked up, and was startled to
see the Northwarden's expression. He was leaning forward, giving her rapt
attention. As soon as he registered her surprise his face became an impassive
mask, but she was certain of what she had seen.

The duke didn't say anything, and
the long silence began to grow uncomfortable. Just as Asha was about to break
it, the duke straightened, looking at his servant.

"You're sure?"

The young man inclined his head,
the slightest of motions. "Yes, Your Grace."

The duke shook his head as if
surprised at what he was about to do, then sighed, turning to Asha. "You
want to help? You want to come to the palace, find out more about what's going
on?"

Asha nodded, barely daring to
hope, though she didn't understand what had changed the duke's mind. "Of
course, Your Grace."

"Then come with me. And call
me Elocien, at least when we are not in public. 'Your Grace' becomes tiring
after a while." Elocien raised an eyebrow at his servant. "Time to
knock on Nashrel's door, I suppose."

He smiled.

***

The duke paused outside the Council
chamber door.

He turned to Asha. "Let me
do the talking in here," he said seriously. "I know how to handle the
Council. Let them think you're robbing them, then ask them for what you really
want." He waited until Asha nodded her assent, then turned to consider the
door in front of him. "Now..."

A thunderous crash echoed through
the Council chambers as Elocien kicked the door open as hard as he could.

The duke returned Asha's shocked
stare with a shrug. "Puts them off-balance."

He strode inside, blue cloak
flowing majestically behind, leaving Asha gaping after him.

“What is the meaning of this?”
cried a startled voice, joined quickly by others. The shouts were silenced,
however, as soon as Elocien entered the room.

Asha trailed after the
Northwarden, his servant following her. Most of the Elders’ seats were full
this time; another man in a blue cloak sat to the side of the Elders, and a
younger Gifted sat next to him with a pen and paper, scribbling furiously. An
official Council meeting, then, from all appearances.

Elder Eilinar paled as his eyes
darted from Elocien, to Asha, then back again. There was a deathly hush, even
the sound of the Scrivener’s pen vanishing as the young man stared down at them
in shock. The other Administrator looked equally stunned.

“Duke Andras,” choked out
Nashrel, just as the silence became almost unbearable. “We were not told you
were -”

"No. You weren't." The
relatively friendly demeanour the duke had shown Asha had vanished. He glared
up at the supervising Administrator and the Scrivener. "Out," he
growled.

The two men had disappeared
before the Northwarden had time to turn back to Nashrel.

"Now, Elder Eilinar. Let us
discuss why I am here."

Nashrel looked around
desperately, as if searching for an exit. “She had nothing to tell, Your
Grace,” he said. “We didn’t want to bother -”

“You didn’t want to share,” said
Elocien, cutting off Nashrel for the second time in a row. He gave an impatient
sigh. “I try not to exercise the Fourth Tenet too much, Elder Eilinar, but
sometimes you make me wonder why.”

There was silence from the
gallery as Nashrel stared at the ground, chastised. Several of the other
Council members looked equally abashed. “I apologise, Your Grace,” Nashrel
eventually said stiffly. “She is the only one to survive an attack, and we
wanted to keep her close, observe her so we could find out why. We were
mistaken not to inform you, though.”

“Keep her close? You made her a
Shadow and put her to work,” growled Elocien. “If I hadn’t found her, she
likely would have rotted in here.”

Nashrel coughed. “And if I may be
so bold as to ask - how
did
you know about the girl?”

Elocien just stared at Nashrel
until the other man looked away again.

The head of the Administrators
let the silence drag for a few more seconds, then crossed his arms. “If you
insist on acting like children, you will be treated like children. The girl
will be coming with me.”

Nashrel’s face reddened. “Why?
What possible use could you have for her?”

“That is my business,” the duke
replied.

“I’m sorry, Northwarden, but you
don’t have the right,” Nashrel spluttered. “You need the Council's permission
to take one of us from the Tol. To do otherwise would violate the Treaty!”

“A shame you decided to exempt
her from the Treaty, then,” said Elocien, staring squarely at Nashrel.
"She's not Gifted any more, in case you hadn't noticed."

"But you have no cause, no
charge. You still cannot take her against her will."

"She wants to go."

Everyone's gaze turned to Asha,
who reddened under their stares. Nashrel looked at her in disbelief. "Is
this true?" He leaned forward. "If you say you do not want to go, he
cannot take you, child."

Asha looked back at him steadily.
"I want to go."

There was a stunned silence in
the chamber as Nashrel just stared at her, open-mouthed.

The Elder recovered himself after
a few seconds, giving Elocien a hesitant glance before looking away again in
obvious frustration. “Take her, Northwarden, and you lose your best chance at
finding him.”

The room went very quiet, as if
everyone were suddenly holding their breath. Elocien stepped forward, his
composure threatening to crack for the first time.

“Was that a threat?”

Nashrel swallowed. “No, of course
not, Your Grace,” he said hurriedly, holding up his hands in a defensive
posture. “I meant only that by observing the girl, we may learn something that
could help. If you take her, we cannot do that.”