Chapter 9 #3
“They were just long tree roots. That’s it. And I only saw them for a few seconds.”
Callen halted, his face scrunched in thought. “Could you draw them for us?”
They didn’t get it. The shapes gave away nothing. But they would only understand and stop pestering me if I showed them that, so I shrugged.
Ana stood and went to a desk that sat against the bookshelves, every movement one of dignified grace. She was taller than me, a perfect balance of curves and muscles. She returned with a paper, quill, and ink pot.
Holding the quill awkwardly in my fingers, I dunked it clumsily into the ink.
Whenever Merelda had made me write, it was usually in the dirt with my finger.
Practicing on paper with ink would have been a waste, considering how expensive the materials were.
I’d used a quill and ink a few times at Marsik’s insistence, but that was all.
I certainly hadn’t practiced the technique enough to do this gracefully.
I brought the tip to the paper, a drop of excess ink plopping onto the surface. Thinking back to those shapes, I prepared to draw the muddled lines.
The quill didn’t move.
I tried again to move my hand, but it was as if it’d been severed from my body.
A throat cleared.
“What is it?” Harthon softly probed.
I wracked my brain again, fingers squeezing the quill. Nothing. Frustration bloomed as I bit my lip. “I can’t,” I uttered. I dropped the quill and then quickly picked it up again, only to have my muscles lock before ink could meet paper.
Ana leaned her elbows on the table. “What’s stopping you?”
“I…I don’t know. It’s like my body won’t let me draw.”
“That’s a crock of shit,” North accused.
I glared at him. “No, it isn’t.”
North turned to Harthon. “She’s lying, obviously. She doesn’t want to help.”
The false accusation in that self-righteous tone struck a nerve. “I’m not lying,” I snapped. “I don’t support your cause, but I do want to help, because helping will end this nightmare as fast as possible.”
“She isn’t lying,” Harthon confirmed, voice calm as he studied my eyes. “The magvis was sworn not to reveal the path to anyone. It’s likely that oath transferred to Etarla along with the knowledge.”
I set the quill down, rubbing my cramping hand. “If the route eventually does come to me, how am I going to show it to you?”
“You won’t be showing us. You’ll be coming with us and leading the way.”
That was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.
Before I could protest, Callen spoke. “Looks like you’ll be paying Josenne a visit after all.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“A very mean old hag who gives everyone the creeps.”
Unamused by that, Harthon clarified, “She’s an old woman who knows things that many of us don’t. If any human knows how to unlock the route from your mind, it’s her.”
“Is she here?”
“She’s in Fifth. The Princeps there, Ellan, is an ally, but I haven’t yet decided if we’ll be sneaking in or greeting him first.”
“It’s likely that the other Princepes know about Etarla’s eyes. Koerlyn paraded her around enough that spies probably caught wind. Saying hello wouldn’t reveal anything new,” Ana offered.
Harthon regarded her thoughtfully. “Aside from me and Koerlyn, no one knows about the magvis’ escape, the path into the Domus, or that Etarla now knows that route.
If they’ve heard about her eye color, they probably think she’s just another magvis, considering how much trouble Koerlyn and I have gone through to get her.
Ellan is an ally who wouldn’t try to take her, but he’ll ask questions that are hard to answer. ”
“How can you be so sure that no one else knows there’s a route into the Domus?” I interjected.
“This letter,” he said, tapping the box with a long finger, “is the only reason we know there is a tunnel into the Domus and that the magvis has to give that information to another before dying. When Tamen received the letter, he was allies with Koerlyn, and only shared it with him. If Koerlyn told the other Princepes that the magvis escaped and is the reason for your eye color, he’d be revealing that there is a way out of and into the Domus. ”
Of course, they wouldn’t want competition in their race to enter Centralis and claim its resources.
From across the table, North evaluated me, his attention unnerving. “Would it be so bad to go to Ellan, pretend that she is a magvis, and spread that story? If the other Princepes believe you have a magvis with you, they’ll fear you even more. It’s an opportunity to solidify more alliances.”
It was the first thoughtful comment I’d ever heard him offer. Perhaps there was intelligence hidden beneath all of his grumbling hatred.
“Wouldn’t that make them want to come and take her rather than forge alliances?” Ana questioned, thankfully pulling North’s focus away from me.
“They wouldn’t dare to invade and attempt capture. Harthon is already feared on his own. If they believe he’s armed with a magvis, they’ll think he’s unbeatable and pledge loyalty.”
“But if they instead hear that she’s just a powerless human who knows the route into the Domus, they’ll be more keen to challenge Harthon and take her,” Ana concluded, finishing the thought.
Harthon’s fingers drummed a casual staccato on the table. “The first story that people hear is always the most believable.” Those fingers stopped. “You’re right, North. It wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”
I partially expected Callen to insult North’s idea, given their constant bickering, but he simply nodded in respectful agreement. “And what about your cabinet and our people? Do we tell them, or do we continue to keep Etarla’s presence hidden?”
“Hidden for now. We’ve never been completely honest about the existence of the magvis. I’m not sure that now is the right time.”
Well, if Harthon intended to keep me isolated in my room, it was a good thing I was leaving tonight. That was no way to live.
When no one objected to his decision, Harthon said, “We’ll leave for Fifth in a few days. I have an unfortunate cabinet meeting to hold, and we need to solidify our defenses against Koerlyn before we go. Cal, you’ll take those few days to begin training. Any questions, Etarla?”
Did I have questions? No. Just like that, Harthon and his group had given me all the answers, determining my future without an ounce of my opinion.
I remained silent, anticipation for tonight welling inside of me.
Harthon’s dark eyes roamed my face, analytical in their perusal. I kept my face blank, hoping he couldn’t see through to my thoughts. “Cal, take Etarla to her room. Start with simple maneuvers. She’s still recovering from yesterday.”
I stood on steady feet. “I’m not still recovering. I’m fine,” I said, determined to speak for myself at least once in this meeting.
Harthon’s lips curved. “Cal.”
“Heard you loud and clear, Hart. We’ll take it easy today, then we can play with punches and kicks tomorrow, Fish Eyes.”
“Fish Eyes?” Ana said the name with as much disdain as I felt.
Callen pointed at her. “No stealing my nickname,” he declared, swaggering to the double doors and pulling them open.
“It’s not my nickname,” I told the woman, and then I followed Callen without a glance at the two men.
As we walked down the stairs, I again slowed at the window, eying the dark opening in the garden wall that would be my entrance to the kitchen.
“How’s your balance?” Callen asked as he led us down the hallway.
“It’s fine.”