Chapter 15
Leon
“Bit of a change from Ribold’s place, isn’t it?” Alastor says glumly as we dismount. The old Trovian coach house is fraying at the edges. One side of the building sags into its foundations, and the thatch on its roof is a little patchy.
“It’s no palace,” says a voice behind us. “But it’s got a few things Filusia hasn’t.”
“Harm!” Alastor’s face lights up as he turns and practically runs into the rebel leader’s arms. Harman catches him with a laugh.
“Thank the gods,” Stratton murmurs. “I didn’t know how much more complaining about missing his boyfriend I could listen to.”
“One day, Stratton, you’ll fall in love, and we’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Phaia says archly.
“Oh no, I’m set on being the holdout,” Stratton says with a shake of his head. “Especially when the rest of you are dropping like flies.”
He gives me an accusatory look, then glances over at Damia.
“What are you looking at me for?” she snaps.
“No reason,” he smirks.
Ana climbs down from her horse and goes to meet her brother. She’s wearing her glamour now we’re back in Trova, just like me and my soldiers, but by now Harman has no problem recognizing his sister through the magic.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, surprised. “I thought Esther and Deedus—”
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asks with a smile.
She nudges him in the shoulder before hugging him. “Of course I am. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I decided it would be better if I came instead,” he says, approaching the rest of us.
“I think he means he was so desperate to see me, he couldn’t possibly stay away,” Alastor points out. Harman colors but doesn’t deny it.
“Good to see you in one piece,” Harman says to me, shaking my hand.
“Yes,” I agree. “I’m certainly in better shape than the last time you saw me. I have your sister to thank for that. And I also have an apology to make to you.”
Harman raises an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Yes,” I lower my voice. “Now I know for certain that your friends played no part in my parents’ deaths.
I’m sorry I didn’t trust you more before.
” It’s been weighing on my conscience since my grandfather confessed to his crime.
I couldn’t have known the truth of the matter when I first met Harman, but I could’ve been less zealous with my accusations when he claimed the Hand were innocent.
I could’ve given him the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you,” Harman says. “Though your suspicions did lead to you sticking Alastor on me, so I suppose I can’t be too upset.
” He throws my friend a warm smile before glancing around us.
“I take it your brother’s promotion went smoothly?
” There’s no one in the yard of the coach house except us, but he’s wise to be cautious.
“Why don’t we talk more inside?” I suggest.
Once we’ve stabled our horses, we enter the coach house. Harman gives a nod to the wispy-haired owner, and we’re shown through to an annex out back housing a common area with armchairs and a few tables as well as four boarding rooms.
“Jethra used to be pretty active in our movement before he retired,” Harman explains as the old owner shuffles away. “His loyalty is with the Hand, so we don’t need to worry. This place is secure enough for us to stop for a couple of days at least.”
“Does that mean you’ve got information for us?” Ana asks.
“Yes, and the sooner we’re all up to date, the better.” Harman sits down at a table in the common room as we settle around him. He glances at the collected group—eleven of us in total—his eyes settling on Corrin.
“We’ve decided he’s a permanent member of the inner fold, have we?” he asks, jerking his head at the crime lord.
Corrin opens his mouth to answer—no doubt with something sly and sarcastic—but Damia gets there first.
“Why shouldn’t he be?” she says, her voice taut with challenge. “He spied for us in Elmere. He got split open in Qimorna trying to keep the clerics at bay. Is that worth nothing to you?”
Harman doesn’t say anything, and neither does Corrin, but the crime lord leans back in his chair, looking very smug.
“Damia’s right. Corrin is our ally,” Ana says firmly. “He fought bravely on those missions and when we were attacked a week ago on our way to the border.”
Harman raises his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t heard about the attack at Ribold’s yet. We haven’t exchanged any messages with the Hand since agreeing to this rendezvous point. Those with decent messenger magic are a commodity anyway, and it’s hard to find trustworthy people on the road.
“And most importantly,” Ana continues, “Corrin helped save Leon’s life in Lavail.
So yes, he is part of our inner circle. I trust him, and that should be enough for you.
” Her tone is that of a queen—it brooks no argument, and Harman, rather than seeming annoyed or offended, looks quietly impressed.
I feel a surge of pride and reach out across the mooring.
“Nicely put,” I say.
She throws me a grateful glance. Behind her, Corrin sits silently, but I see the smile on his face and, beyond him, Damia watching him closely.
“Alright then,” Harman says, pressing on. “Then I’ll tell you all that we’ve made some progress on the seal. Although probably not as much as you’d like.”
“Always such a pessimist,” Alastor says, shaking his head fondly.
“We had our contacts talk to people in Warlarn, the valley where Prince Keleus and Princess Helena’s traveling party were attacked,” Harman clarifies for the benefit of the others. “You probably know, Leon, that they only had two guards with them when they died, as well as a driver.”
“Yes,” I say. “It was partly what made it so suspicious. They usually would be traveling with a much larger detail, but they’d sent most of them ahead to Filusia while they took a scenic route back.”
For years, I was so angry with them for having been so careless with their safety.
Now I feel like a guilty idiot. Of course, they had good reason to want to hide their movements from people who might report back to Respen.
The carriage driver was a Trovian man they’d hired en route, and the two soldiers killed were longtime, deeply loyal friends of my parents—people they could trust.
“We talked with a few older folks who lived in the area back then,” Harman continues.
“From them we managed to trace some of your parents’ route.
The most unusual thing we could find was that they passed through a region to the southeast called Rhasborne.
It’s out of the way, so they would’ve deliberately chosen to go there, but we don’t have any more specifics than that. ”
My disappointment rises. Harman’s right, it’s not as much as I’d hoped. Ana takes my hand.
“It’s a start,” she says gently.
“More than a start,” Alastor says. “Sounds to me like the seal is probably hidden in this Rhasborne place. How big an area is it anyway?”
“About the same size as Godom,” Harman says.
“Ah,” Alastor steeples his fingers, clearly considering the area of land that stretches from the southern coast all the way up to the Wirstones. “I see.”
“I brought some maps,” Harman says. “We can take a look at them later and start marking out potential hiding places. Something might ring a bell.”
“Can I ask a question?” Mal pipes up from the corner.
“Of course,” Ana says.
“What are you going to do if you actually find it? The seal, I mean?”
“Well, use it to beat Caledon, obviously,” Tira says.
Harman looks quickly at Ana. “Aren’t you going to destroy it?”
“I…hadn’t really thought about it either way,” Ana admits.
“But the whole point is to stop Caledon from trying to use Ethira’s tokens to ascend. If you got rid of the seal, you’d guarantee he’d fail,” Harman points out.
“It might not be that easy to get rid of,” Lafia says tentatively. She shifts, uncomfortable as ten sets of eyes settle on her. “Objects as powerful as Ethira’s tokens would usually take a lot of power to destroy.”
“So why not keep it?” Stratton says. “I agree with Tira. An object that offers protection to whoever carries it? Sounds pretty damn useful. It’s not like it’s inherently evil or anything—”
“Isn’t it?” Damia says coolly. “I’m not one for superstition, but these religious artifacts seem to leave a trail of blood and death behind them.”
“This is all pointless until we actually have the seal,” I point out. “And right now, we only have a general idea of where my parents might have hidden it.”
“Leon’s right,” Ana says, laying a hand on my arm. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Caledon’s closer to reaching his goals than you think, you know,” Harman says grimly. “His experiment with the children worked. He used the potion to make them powerful like Ana and then drained their magic.”
“You know that for certain?” I ask.
“Yes. This is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
He pulls a tiny scrap of parchment out of his pocket and lays it on the table. It curls up at the edges like it’s been rolled into a tight tube.
Ana picks it up to examine it, and I see rows of tiny words scrawled onto it.
“You’ll need a magnifying glass to read it, but I can give you a summary,” Harman says. “It’s from Sophos.”
“The bearer?” Tira asks in disbelief.
“Yes,” Harman says. “Remember your theory that he might’ve been trying to help you in Qimorna when he told Ana about Caledon’s plan?”
“He also turned up just in time to take the guards away from her prison,” I point out.
“Well, this message says that those actions should serve as proof that he is no longer a supporter of Caledon.”
“Oh sure, and I’m the Queen of Filusia,” Tira says bitterly.
“It arrived by bird?” Lafia asks.
“Yes, it was a persistent thing,” Harman says. “It followed one of our contacts to a safehouse in Kestis and kept banging on the window until we let it in.”
“At least we know the note is probably from him then,” Lafia says. “Affinity with birds is his secondary power. It’s not very common.”