The Shadow Of What Was Lost (48 page)

Asha hesitated, a dozen thoughts
flashing through her mind at once.

If this was true for all Vessels,
and all Shadows, then the implications of what she'd discovered were enormous.
Shadows lost their Mark, were not bound by the Tenets. They could use Vessels
however they chose. Use the weapons. Perhaps not as effectively as the Gifted -
most Shadows were Gifted who had failed their Trials, after all - but each one
could still count for a hundred normal soldiers, if they could be convinced to
defend the city.

On the other hand, she trusted
Elocien, but... he was the Northwarden. Was this something he would feel
obliged to warn Administration about? Because given how much Administrators
already feared the Shadraehin, and by extension all Shadows, she shuddered to
think what the reaction might be to news such as this.

Then she thought of the visions
in the Journal, and she knew there wasn't really a choice. The Augurs had Seen
the Blind inside the city. This wasn't information she could withhold.

"I think... I'm fairly
certain the Veil was drawing from my Reserve," she said, voice shaking a
little.

Elocien stared at her blankly for
a few moments. "Your Reserve," he repeated.

"I know how it sounds."
Asha rubbed her forehead, staring at the torc in her hand. "But it's not
my imagination."

Elocien shook his head. "You
must be mistaken. If Shadows could use Vessels, we would know about it."

"Would we?" Asha looked
him in the eye. "Shadows have only been around since the war, and given
how we're treated... I cannot imagine many of us have even had the chance to
see
a Vessel, let alone touch one. We're mostly Gifted who failed our Trials,
remember. I know the Shadows at the Tol wouldn't be allowed anywhere near
Athian's Vessels. And Administration wouldn't let a Shadow anywhere near...
anything." She shrugged. "And, let's be honest. I don't know many
Shadows who would make the knowledge public, even if they did find out."

Elocien stared at her for a few
seconds, then tossed her something small that glinted as it spun through the
air.

"Prove it."

Asha caught the object neatly and
opened her hand, staring down at what she held. The silver ring from the
storeroom. "Erran says this can punch a hole through a wall."

"That was the first Vessel
Erran ever tested, and he poured enough Essence into that thing to punch a hole
through Ilin Tora," said Elocien dryly. "Just a trickle should be
fine."

Asha nodded, holding the ring out
in front of her. She was about to close her eyes when Elocien coughed.

"Even so, if you could
please point it away from my head....."

Asha gave him a crooked smile,
adjusting so that she was facing Elocien's bookcase. She took a deep breath.
Concentrated.

At first there was nothing.
Then... a connection. A sense of energy building up in the ring.

She released it.

Then she was flying backwards, crashing
against the far wall hard enough to rattle her teeth as Elocien's carefully
stacked shelves of books and documents exploded into a fluttering, chaotic mess
of papers. Dazed, Asha accepted Elocien's help as she struggled to her feet,
eyes wide.

They both stood for a few
moments, surveying the carnage.

The point of impact on the
bookcase had splintered the shelf, and there was a circular series of cracks in
the stone where the blow had dinted the wall behind.

"Fates," said Elocien.
He looked at the wall, then Asha, then the wall again.

"Fates," he repeated
dazedly.

They spent the next few minutes
tidying the mess as best they could, silent until the worst of it was cleared,
each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Elocien sat, gesturing for Asha to
do the same, and stared at her like a puzzle to be solved.

"Assuming this applies to
all Shadows, and not just you," he said quietly. "You're not bound by
the Tenets?"

Asha shook her head. "Not
from what I can tell."

Elocien rubbed his forehead.
"I need time to think about this." He grimaced. "In the
meantime, I need your word. You don't breathe a word of this - not to anyone.
Not even to the Augurs. If this ever got out...." His frown deepened.
"Panic. Overreaction, from Administration and probably from a lot of
common folk too. Which ends badly for the Shadows. And then, any Shadows who
manage to get hold of a Vessel....." He looked sick. "I know a lot of
Shadows are good people, Asha, but a lot of them hate Administration for making
them the way they are. Not sure I can blame them, either, but giving them
weapons like that...."

Asha nodded; she'd had time to
process the implications now, and she knew that what the duke was saying was
true. "You have my word," she assured him. "What about for
defending against the Blind, though?"

Elocien shook his head. "No.
Not even for that." He held up a hand as Asha made to protest. "And
regardless, the Shadows are disparate, disorganised, and have little allegiance
to the city. Even if we sent word out, there's no way we could arrange them
into any meaningful group."

"There's one person who
could." Asha raised an eyebrow. "Who already has."

Elocien stared at her in pure
disbelief.

"After what they've done?
After what they did to you?" He shook his head. "No. We're not there
yet."

"That wasn't him. And we
know the Blind get inside the city -"

"We
believe
they
do," corrected Elocien. "But right now, we have an army of nine
thousand good men standing in their way, not to mention the Shields at Fedris
Idri. I'm worried, Asha, but not worried enough to give over some of the most
powerful weapons ever created into the hands of murderers. Particularly ones
who wouldn't hesitate to turn those weapons on us once the battle's over."
He held up a hand as he saw Asha's face. "I'm not saying I won't consider
it. But we're not there yet."

Asha gave a reluctant nod, then
offered the ring back to Elocien.

The duke hesitated for a moment,
then shook his head.

"Keep it," he said.
"Just don't let Ionis see it." He paused. "And it probably goes
without saying, but be very careful of Ionis if you come across him in your
duties as Representative. He's a zealot - the worst kind. Give him the
opportunity, and he'd wipe out every Gifted and Shadow in existence."

Asha inclined her head. "I
will be."

They talked a little more after
that, but before long Asha made her excuses and headed back towards her rooms.
She wanted to be alone for a while, to gather her racing thoughts. To try and
calmly determine what this all meant.

She shook her head, still dazed
as she made her way along the palace hallways, rolling the silver ring idly in
her hand. Her Reserve was intact, just... blocked off, somehow. Could Davian
have been right? Was it possible to somehow
undo
becoming a Shadow?

Then she frowned, coming to a
gradual halt as she realised something else. For the first time, Asha felt
certain that Davian had actually spoken to her that day - had been there in the
room with her. She
knew
that it hadn't been some kind of odd dream.

Asha slipped the ring onto her
finger, and walked on. She had a lot to think about.

***

Erran looked up as Asha entered
the Lockroom.

"Quick thinking
earlier," he said once she'd shut the door. "I gather Ionis wasn't
too happy with Elocien?"

Asha shook her head.
"Decidedly unhappy." She sat opposite the Augur, silent for a moment.
"Before he interrupted us -"

"It's dangerous, Asha,"
interjected Erran, his expression serious. Their conversation from the
storeroom had obviously been on his mind, too. "I couldn't guarantee your
safety."

Asha took a deep breath. If
Davian was really alive, then Ilseth had lied to her - lied to everyone - about
why she'd been made a Shadow. And there had to be a reason for that.

"I don't care," she
said quietly. "I want you to try and restore my memories." She set
her features into a grim mask of determination and looked Erran in the eye,
daring him to refuse her.

"I want to remember what
happened at Caladel."

Davian grinned as he walked
around Malshash, watching the almost motionless man.

A stone fell slowly from his hand
where he’d dropped it, only a split second ago. Yet Davian had been watching it
fall for at least a count of ten.

They had spent the last few days
working on this ability, one of the hardest to master according to Malshash,
and one of the most relevant to Davian’s return through the rift. The
mysterious Augur had been hesitant about using it here in Deilannis – he was
worried what the implications might be, this close to the Jha’vett – but his
determination that Davian learn the ability had won out.

It had been frustrating at first;
aside from trying to use Essence, Davian had never had so much trouble learning
anything in his life. Even now, he sweated with the strain of concentration,
letting time move all around him but letting it touch him as little as
possible. It had been a difficult concept to explain for both Malshash and the
authors of the books he’d read, and now Davian understood why. It was like
trying to stand in a stream of water without getting wet.

He leaned down, grabbing the
stone in mid-air, allowing the time bubble – as he thought of it - to
encapsulate it as well. That was important, otherwise the stone would in
reality be moving at speeds its structure could not handle, and would likely
disintegrate or melt. He moved a few paces away from Malshash and then relaxed,
allowing time to crash back into him. It was momentarily disorienting, but he
quickly recovered.

Malshash blinked, then realised
the stone had vanished from in front of him. He looked up at Davian, who opened
his palm to display the smooth rock, grinning.

Malshash smiled back. “Excellent,
Davian.” The praise was genuine, but he seemed less enthusiastic today for some
reason.

Davian still had not been able to
figure out the enigmatic stranger, who this morning wore the face of a handsome
young man with jet-black hair, dark skin and deep, piercing eyes. At times
Malshash seemed distant, like today; at others he seemed jovial, friendly.
Mostly, though, Davian thought he seemed sad. Occasionally he would catch
Malshash watching him train, and there would be such a look of pain on his face
that it almost made him stop.

He didn’t intrude as to why,
though. Whenever he asked personal questions of Malshash, the Augur simply went
quiet. Those matters were something Malshash clearly had no interest in talking
about.

Davian accepted the compliment
with an inclined head, the feeling of accomplishment a warmth in his belly.
“Necessity is a wonderful motivator,” he said in a dry tone. Then he grinned.
“I have to say, though, that kan is… amazing. These abilities, this power, is
more than I could ever have dreamed. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Malshash studied him for a
moment. “I understand,” he said quietly, “ but be very wary of enjoying
yourself too much. Most Augurs learn these powers as they grow up - are taught
their proper applications over the course of years, not weeks.”

Davian's smile faded. "What
do you mean?"

Malshash shrugged. “Augurs are
supposed to train in each power for a year and a day before they are allowed to
use them in the real world. You’re going to have a grand total of a few weeks
for all of them,
if
we’re lucky. On top of that, you’ve been striving
for your powers for so long, and now you’re receiving them all at once. On the
one hand, that will make you more appreciative of them. On the other, it could
make you overeager to use them.”

Davian raised an eyebrow. “So...
you don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Malshash rushed
to assure him. “It’s only that I’ve seen firsthand what power like this can do
to the best of people. I’m not suggesting it will happen to you. But believe
me, you will be tested. You’ll have opportunities – many opportunities – to use
kan in ways that will benefit you, but are not strictly… moral. It’s a constant
temptation, Davian. There is a reason why the training is supposed to take so
long. You need to be prepared for the new choices these powers give you.”

Davian nodded, though he still
felt vaguely irritated at the suggestion he would abuse his abilities. “Of
course.”

Malshash watched him for a moment
longer, then nodded in a satisfied manner. “Good.” He stroked his chin. Davian
often wondered whether his real form had a beard, for it seemed to be a habit
of his, regardless of what face he wore. “Which power should we try next?”

Davian didn’t have to think; he
knew which one he wanted to try the most. “Foresight.”

Malshash hesitated, then shook
his head. “I’m sorry. I suppressed that ability for a reason, Davian. It’s just
too dangerous here.”

“But surely it’s the closest
ability to travelling through the rift itself,” pointed out Davian. “Isn’t it
worth the risk?”

Malshash looked uncomfortable.
“It’s doesn’t matter. I gave up the power to See some time ago,” he confessed.
“I don’t have the knowledge of how to do it.”

“
What
?” Davian frowned in
confusion. “You… gave it up? Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Malshash
rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, his tone indicating he wished to discuss
the topic no further. “I can’t See, and so I am of little help to you in that
regard.”

Davian scowled. "Why not
just tell me?"

Malshash met his gaze, a chill in
his stare. "Because it's
none of your business
, Davian." He
held up his hand. "I know that's not a satisfactory answer, but it's all
you're going to get. So, please. Let it go."

Davian grimaced, but nodded his
acquiescence. If Malshash wanted to be mysterious, that was his prerogative, so
long as he taught Davian what was needed to get home. "Fine. If you don't
know how to See, do you at least know something about it? The books all said
that the visions inevitably come to pass... but as I told you, in my time the
Augurs were overthrown after their visions stopped coming true. What does that
mean?"

Malshash hesitated. "If what
I've come to believe here, these past couple of weeks, is true... it means they
were tricked, Davian. It's as simple as that."

"So you don't believe the
future can be changed?"

"I did, once. I... hoped it
could be," admitted Malshash. "But from what I've seen... the future
can no more be changed than the past."

Davian frowned. “So our fate is
set, no matter what we do? We can't change anything?”

Malshash inclined his head. “I
think so - though perhaps that's not the best way to think about it," he
said quietly. "The future may be immutable, but it's not because our
choices do not change anything. It's that they already
have
changed
things. The decisions you make tomorrow are the same as those you made
yesterday - still your choices and still with consequences, but unalterable.
The only difference is your knowledge of the decisions you made
yesterday."

Davian screwed up his face. “I
don’t understand.”

Malshash sighed. “When you came
to this time, you momentarily stepped
outside
of time. A place where
time doesn’t exist. Nothing to separate events from one another, or to give
them length. They happen simultaneously and for eternity.” He shrugged. “In
short, all that will happen, has already happened. It’s just that we are
experiencing it through the lens of time.”

Davian shook his head. "I
don't accept that. There has to be another explanation."

Malshash grunted. “You’re not a
believer in El, then?”

Davian frowned at the question.
“Not especially. That religion has been all but destroyed in my time - in
Andarra at least.”

Malshash raised an eyebrow. “Has
it now,” he murmured. He nodded to himself. “I see. Because of what you told me
about the Augurs.”

Davian nodded. “As soon as they
began to get things wrong, people started losing faith. After the Unseen War,
the Loyalists decided it meant either El had never existed, his plan had gone
awry somehow, or that he was dead – and that in any case, no-one should be
worshipping him.”

Malshash sighed. “Such is the way
of weak men,” he murmured. “Daring to believe only in what can be seen, touched
and measured.”

Davian frowned. “I thought the
logic made a kind of sense.”

Malshash shook his head ruefully.
“It does - that’s the problem. It was always a danger, priests pointing to the
abilities of men as proof of the existence of God. Already, even in this time,
they are becoming reliant on the acts of the Augurs to proclaim El’s existence.
It sounds like it will destroy them.”

“So you believe?” asked Davian.

Malshash hesitated. “In His
existence? Yes,” he said slowly. “Do you know why the Augurs were thought to
prove it?”

Davian nodded, thinking back to
what Mistress Alita had taught him. “El was supposed to have the perfect plan,
to be in complete control of the world. The Grand Design. You can’t have a
perfect plan if men can determine their own futures – and the Augurs were proof
that the future was set.” He raised an eyebrow. “Until they started getting
things wrong.”

“Exactly.” Malshash sighed.
“Everyone thinks of us as great men. Wise. Untouchable. But you’re an Augur,
Davian. You don’t think you could be tricked?”

Davian made to protest, then
hesitated. He thought back to how Tenvar had fooled him at the school. “I
suppose I could.”

“And if a great power - an
ancient, malevolent power - bent its entire will to fooling you?”

Davian paled. “Is that what happened
to the Augurs?”

"Maybe." Malshash
shrugged. “I can only speculate.”

Davian frowned. “You said an
ancient power. A malevolent power.” His eyes narrowed. “Were you talking about
Aarkein Devaed?”

Malshash grimaced. “No.”

“He really exists, though?” Davian
shuffled his feet nervously. “He’s still alive, after all this time?”

Malshash chuckled, though the
sound was humourless. “Oh yes. He is very much alive.” He rose, indicating the
end of the conversation. “Enough about that. We should take a break for a meal,
and then continue your training.”

Davian gave an absent nod in
response. For a moment he wanted to pursue what Malshash had said... but even
as he opened his mouth the desire left him, replaced by excitement at the
prospect of learning new skills. “Can we try shapeshifting next?” he asked,
unable to keep the eagerness from his tone.

Malshash shook his head. “Another
skill that is too dangerous,” he admitted. “There’s a good reason you didn’t
know about it before you came here. No Augur who has discovered the ability has
ever passed on its knowledge. That alone should tell you how unsafe it is.”

Davian sighed. Along with Seeing,
shapeshifting had been the ability he’d been most looking forward to learning.
“I’ll take the risk,” he said stubbornly. He grinned. “If you've seen me in the
future, it means it can’t kill me, right?”

“True, but it isn’t relevant to
what you need to know to get home.” Malshash gave him an apologetic shrug. “We
don’t have time for anything extra, Davian. Your bond here will begin weakening
soon. It’s already been two weeks; I’m surprised there have been no problems as
it is. And I still don’t believe you’re ready to face the rift again.”

Davian thought about protesting,
but decided against it. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “I think I’ll stay
here and do some reading, if you want to eat.”

Malshash hesitated, but nodded.
“I’ll bring back some food. See you in an hour or so.” He turned and walked
through the door, leaving Davian alone in the Great Library once again.

Davian sat for a while, lost in
thought.

Then he came to a decision. He
moved over to place his hand on the Adviser and closed his eyes, concentrating.

The blue line shot straight for
one of the books on a nearby shelf. Davian grabbed it, then flipped through
until he found what he was looking for: the section entitled
Shapeshifting,
best practices
.

He scanned the text, frowning.
The entry was only a page long - but he knew that in the other books he'd read,
Shapeshifting was mentioned only briefly too, if at all. It seemed Malshash had
been right about its knowledge not being passed on.

The description in this book of
how to undertake the process was vague, but it sounded simple enough. Davian
read the section a few times to make sure he understood everything, then closed
his eyes.

He held a picture of Wirr in his
mind. The book specified that the shapeshifter needed only a passing
familiarity with the appearance of whomever they were trying to change into, an
'imprint' of the person, but Davian thought it would be safest to pick someone
he knew well. He drew on kan, let the dark substance settle into his flesh,
cooling and warming at the same time. He pictured Wirr in his mind as clearly
as he could, then willed his own flesh, his own face, to look the same.