7 Omens #3
“I thought truth was your only task,” he reminded her of their argument in the Academiae’s chapel. “Did you want it sugarcoated?”
A bite of pain in her palm told her that her nails had drawn blood. Without releasing his stare, she wiped it over zosta on her armilla and waited.
He wet his lips behind the veil. “You don’t know him. You know nothing of his secrets.”
True. She swallowed. “And you do?”
“You…” he prowled forward and paused when she didn’t recoil this time, “might be surprised.”
An unhappy suspicion coalesced into clarity. “What grudge do you have against him?”
“You’ve greater concerns than that.” His shoulder-length black hair fluttered in the wind, half-pulled off his face with a few loose strands to soften his angular cheekbones.
He looked around Kadra’s age. “Boil beetles alone can’t cause this widespread madness.
” He tilted his head to the raving survivors now being piled onto wagons.
“I hear they were largely whitesleep users, but that won’t aid you either.
No drugmaker worth their salt aims to kill their clientele.
And they’re all spouting the same thing. ”
“I know.” Faces boiled red around them. Voices followed the war cry led by the elated Cleric. She could almost feel her hands clinging to the edge of a cliff. She no longer had the strength for anger. “Did you or the Order cause any of this?”
He cut her a startled glance before pity smoothed his brow. “No.”
True.
“But it is to our advantage.” He departed from her line of sight to stand at her shoulder, surveying the chaos.
“A crumbling country needs a scapegoat. Don’t let them take you.
” He tsked at the people shoving at the vigiles guarding the site of the massacre as Kadra and Cassandane began torching every beetle in sight with lightning. “Offer up the Magus Supreme instead.”
She let silence speak for her.
“I won’t warn you again.” His diction altered, northern accent coming to the forefront, and something almost hypnotic underlying the words.
“I understand your powerlessness, but I won’t excuse your stupidity.
Use that saviour complex on yourself, Petitor Sarai.
No one else will save you, and what’s the world to do if even you won’t? ”
He swept past her and into the crowd. It was almost a relief. She had no rebuttal. She’d barely been able to keep track of the blows.
At least that is two suspects eliminated. He and the Order—to his knowledge, at least—weren’t behind this string of deaths. Which left only one place with answers.
Across the blood-streaked marketplace, the Tetrarchy had vanished inside a makeshift tent. Good. What she needed to do had solidified over the last half hour. And it cut to the bone.
She approached Gaius. “How many vigiles do you trust to undertake a fifty-day journey?”
He caught her meaning and smiled sadly. “A few, Petitor Sarai. Shall I tell them to be ready?”
“Please do.” Her throat drew tight. “If Kadra asks for me, tell him that there was something I needed from Aoran Tower,” she managed a watery smile. “It isn’t a lie, so he won’t be able to tell.”
Gaius bowed gravely. “Please be very careful, Petitor Sarai. Kadra just may raze the land should anything happen to you.”
She turned before the tear clinging to her lashes could fall. Then, she headed to Aoran Tower to pack.
Cato was a genial man most days, iron-gray hair brushed back and deep smile lines on either side of his mouth, but he looked practically apoplectic silhouetted in the doorway to Kadra’s bedroom.
“Wrath’s blade, you can’t believe the rumors that this is your fault?” He stormed in as she shoved a tunic into her satchel with too much force. “Don’t let them drive you out of town! Fight back—” He caught sight of her face, and his eyes widened.
Her throat seemed to have swollen shut. “I am fighting,” she croaked. “The Order’s about to wreak havoc with this, Cato. Only the north has answers.” And I don’t know what to do if it doesn’t. She pressed her lips together, knowing that she’d sob if she said it.
Cato leaned against the doorframe. “Drenevan won’t like it.”
“He’s needed here.” She secured her satchel and fought the burning behind her eyes. Twenty-five days there. Twenty-five back. But I can’t protect him from here.
“Cato, you’re an Illusionist, aren’t you? A strong one?”
He nodded. Concern lined his kindly face.
“Watch over him. There’s something greater than us at work here, and it might be targeting him.” She slung her packed satchel across her body. “Please don’t let him take any risks.”
“Oh, my dear.” He gathered her in for a hug, and she almost bawled at the fatherly way he patted her head. “He’ll be alright. He’s weathered a lot, our Drenevan.”
But this is new, and it isn’t the only battle he’s fighting. Holding herself together, she hugged Cato back and left.
Mounting Caelum, she glanced back, gripping Kadra’s key as the gate swung shut. One last glimpse at the black tower and its obsidian pillars. Her heart climbed up her throat and stuck her in an aching mass. Then, she rode to a marketplace of corpses.