Chapter Fifteen #3
the explosions of color coalesced into rapidly growing piles of scrolls and books, all glowing with a green aura.
“There are so many.”
“My request was very general,” Venarra explained. “Once you decide which topics seem the most promising, you can use the Mirror
to narrow the search.”
The shei’dalin reached for one of the scrolls at the top of the first stack just as Ellysetta reached for one nearby. Their hands brushed.
Venarra jerked back as if she’d been burned—or, rather, as if Ellysetta’s Mage Marks were a contagion that could be spread
by simple contact.
“Sieks’ta.” Venarra clasped her hand tightly at her side.
Ellysetta could see her fighting to cover her emotions, to hide her revulsion behind a mask of studied politeness.
“As I was saying . . .” She cleared her throat.
“You needn’t worry about putting the documents back.
When you leave, the Mirror will automatically return everything to its proper place. ”
“Venarra . . .”
The shei’dalin continued as if Ellie hadn’t spoken. “The hall is warded to prevent any of the original texts from leaving the grounds, so
if you find a document you want to take with you, ask the Mirror to make a copy.”
“Venarra . . .” She started to reach out to the other woman, then caught herself as the shei’dalin flinched away. “Please. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me. I need your help.”
“There’s nothing to say. If you don’t have any other questions, I’ll leave you to your reading.”
Ellysetta persisted. “I know that what happened with the Eye was very upsetting. I understand how you must feel.” She could
put herself in Venarra’s shoes all too easily. She’d felt exactly the same when Gaelen first revealed the truth of her Mage
Marks. “Even Rain fled from me in revulsion when he first learned the truth. He loathes the Eld—almost more than he now loves
me—and when he learned I was Mage Marked, he was ready to choose death rather than risk the safety of the Fey by bringing
me back to the Fading Lands.”
Venarra’s black eyes, shuttered and suspicious, fixed on Ellysetta. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to know. In truth, part of me is relieved the Eye revealed what it did. As Rain and Steli have told me,
the tairen do not keep secrets from their pride. Rain could have left me in Celieria after learning about my Mage Marks. He
wanted to at first. He feared what the Mages would do if they successfully completed their claiming—he still fears it, as
do I—but the tairen stopped him. They believe I am the one who can save them—the only one who can.”
Venarra looked down at her own tightly clasped hands.
“That may be, Feyreisa—and I do pray it is so—but I saw the vision in the Eye. I saw the future it foretold. I saw the heads on the pikes behind your throne.” Venarra’s voice began to shake.
Not with fear, Ellysetta realized, but with an almost tairen fierceness.
“My shei’tan’s was among them.” Her eyes flashed up.
The black irises had turned to fiery gold suns, and the piles of books and scrolls
on the desk began to quake and rattle. “I’ll call for your death myself before I let you harm him.”
Ellysetta’s mouth went dry.
The stack of documents toppled and scrolls clattered to the floor.
The sound seemed to snap Venarra out of the fury that had gripped her. She spun away, putting distance between them, and bent
over as if in pain.
Ellysetta knelt and, with shaking hands, began to pick up the scattered scrolls.
A moment later, Venarra knelt beside her to help. Her emotions were once more locked tightly away, her face an impenetrable
mask of aloof calm, and she was careful not to let her hands brush Ellie’s again.
When they were finished, they stood in tense silence on opposite sides of the reading desk. The physical distance was but
a fraction of the great, invisible gulf that truly lay between them.
“Venarra, I—”
“Teska, Feyreisa. Forgive my outburst.” Venarra kept her head high. “I realize you are not to blame for the circumstances set upon
you. As a shei’dalin, I am not without compassion, but I cannot pretend a warm welcome for the woman who may well become the destroyer of the
one I love most.” She took a breath. “I realize the tairen commanded Rain to bring you, even knowing the taint you bear, because
they believe you are the only one who can save them. Tenn fears that you’ve already done all you were meant to do, but your
shei’tan refuses to even consider the possibility. Let’s hope for all our sakes that Rain and the tairen are right, and that you find the solution before the other prophecy of the Eye comes true.”
Ellysetta bit her lip. How could she blame the woman for wanting so desperately to protect her shei’tan? She would have reacted just as fiercely if someone were threatening Rain. Still, that didn’t make the wound of Venarra’s
distrust hurt any less.
“Well,” Ellystta said, turning to the enormous stack of books and scrolls, “I suppose I should get started right away then.”
She glanced back at Venarra. “Is there anything else I should know before you go?”
After a brief, tense silence, the shei’dalin said, “Nei. If you have any other questions, consult the Mirror, or ask it to locate Tealah or myself.”
Once Venarra was gone, Ellysetta stood there, fighting off the tears that threatened to fall. She told herself Venarra’s reaction
wasn’t any different from what she’d faced all her life. Countless times as a child, she’d faced the suspicion and outright
hostility of neighbors after one of her seizures. Railing against it had never changed anything before, and it wasn’t going
to change anything now.
She took a deep, restorative breath and turned around in a slow circle. She was standing in the Fey Hall of Scrolls, probably
the most ancient collection of documents in existence, surrounded by millennia of history and legends and ancient secrets
lost to the world.
Just being here was the fulfillment of one of her most cherished dreams, and she was not going to let anything cast a pall
over it. She was going to dive into the stacks of books and scrolls and discover all the wonders held within their pages,
and she was going to find some way of saving the tairen.
Ellysetta flipped the catch on the scroll case and unraveled the first handspan of parchment.
There was no telling how old the scroll was.
Fey magic had kept it in perfect condition.
She drank in the elegant, artistic Fey calligraphy, her mind instantly processing the familiar script of Feyan words and sentences: On the Identification and Treatment of Illnesses of the Spirit, Observations of the shei’dalin Carenna vol Espera.
While Ellysetta immersed herself in the knowledge of the Fey, Rain immersed himself in military planning. He stood before
the great map wall that showed a detailed tairen’s-eye view of the Fading Lands, Celieria and their surrounding neighbors:
Elvia, Eld, the Pale, and Danael. Behind him, the five lords of the Massan were seated at a broad table, watching as tiny
figures moved across the map with each gesture of Rain’s hand.
“One thousand of our brothers are already on their way to Celieria’s northern march.” He waved, and tiny Spirit Fey armies
dispersed across the southern banks of the flowing Heras River. “They will train the mortals and help them prepare for the
coming conflict, but I intend to put another six thousand blades on the march within the next three months.”
“Six thousand?” Tenn interrupted. “Why should we send so many? Do they not have armies of their own?”
“They do, but it’s been too long since they have known real war. Except for the occasional Eld raid, many of their soldiers
have let their blades grow dull with disuse.”
Yulan grunted. “Perhaps that is the gods’ way of putting an end to them, then.”
Rain bit back a retort. As one of the Fey who, up until three weeks ago, had shared Yulan’s opinion of Celieria, Rain could
hardly condemn the Earth master’s views; but he no longer agreed with them. The Fey were few. Celierians were many, but they
could not stand against the Eld without Fey help. And as Ellysetta had once pointed out, if the Mages conquered Celieria,
all the mortals would find themselves Mage-claimed conscripts in the army of Eld.
“Celieria has always been only a stepping-stone to the Eld,” Rain said instead. “We all know their ultimate destination.”
“Let them come,” Yulan scoffed. “The Mists will devour them.”
“Will they?” That Rain did not let pass unchallenged. “For how long? How much Mage Fire will the Mists withstand before failing?
And if the Mists fall, what then? Celierians outnumber us two hundred to one. Can we afford to let the Mages claim so many?
They may be only mortals, but even ants can bring down a lion if they attack in large enough numbers.”
Rain saw consternation cross their faces, as if the thought had not occurred to them. “We have to assume the Eld will come.
We have to assume the Mists will fail. We have to plan for that and take steps to protect ourselves in every way possible.”
He turned back to the map. “I’ve already spoken with Eren Thoress at Blade’s Point. I will fly there later this week to light
another two of the forges.” All Fey steel was made at Blade’s Point in the great forges that could be ignited only by tairen
flame. There were six forges in all, and he hoped he would not need all of them working day and night, as they had during
the Mage Wars. “I promised Teleos I would come to Orest by month’s end, to bring him a thousand more blades to defend the
Veil and enough swords and armor to outfit his own warriors. Our best defense is to help the Celierians defend themselves.”
He turned back to the map and continued marching Spirit weapons and troops to key strategic positions throughout the Fading
Lands and Celieria’s northern border, but when he was finished, his main concern became easily discernible.