Elyth stood alone in the Paragon’s garden, waiting at last to receive whatever judgment awaited her. The last time she’d been brought to this place, she’d been full of questions and anxiety. Now, however, her mind was still, attentive to her surroundings, drinking in each moment as it occurred and letting it pass into the next without concern or regret. She saw the miniature frostoak, and how it had grown to fill the gap her stroke had left. If she hadn’t known where to look, she never would have noticed anything out of place.
After the failure of the Contingency, a collection team had extracted her from Qel, along with eth ammuin. And though Elyth had expected a confrontation with the Paragon immediately upon her return to the Vaunt, to her surprise, she’d instead been sent directly into the recovery cycle, as though nothing unusual had occurred. Nyeda had once more kept watch; a service Elyth discerned that the elder woman had requested.
Though her deployment to Qel had been secret, there was no question that a distance had opened between her and her beloved sisters. And the change was not merely in her own mind; the Advocates of the House might not have known the details, but news of Qel had surely filtered throughout the Order. It wouldn’t take much to put the pieces together, or at least for the rumors to spread. Nyeda had treated her with the usual stern care, but Elyth had caught her lingering looks, a mix of sadness and wonder. No one in the House seemed to know what to make of her now.
But all that was coming to an end. Her recovery period was over.
The confrontation she had first anticipated was upon her.
The door of the residence opened and the Paragon came forth, and stopped at the edge of the porch. She was dressed neither in formal regalia nor her simple work clothes, but rather the gray uniform of an instructor.
“Elyth,” the Paragon said.
Elyth approached, stopped at the foot of the stairs, and bowed.
“Paragon of the First House,” she answered formally.
“I presume you know why you’ve been summoned.”
“I do not presume to know anything anymore,” Elyth answered.
“I ordered you to kill the planet Qel,” the matriarch said. “And you failed in that duty.”
Elyth made no protest, no argument. None would be tolerated. And she felt no need to defend herself.
The Paragon’s next statement surprised her.
“It was, perhaps, good that you did. You did not carry out my direct command, but in one sense at least, you did not fail in the mission I sent you to accomplish. Qel is stable.
“Though what that means now, we do not know. Perhaps the fault lies with me, for failing to understand the full array of options before us.”
The Paragon’s words and tone threw Elyth completely off; her manner was solemn, devoid of all warmth, and yet she seemed, in some strange way, to be complimenting Elyth for finding a way to render the threat harmless.
The formality soon vanished, and the Paragon descended a step and sat on the porch. In doing so, she brought herself down level with Elyth, and looked intently for a time into Elyth’s eyes, searching. Elyth held herself still and calm, allowed the gaze to probe her inner being. That once-terrible gaze seemed somehow diminished now, its reach and ability to penetrate blunted.
“It is strange to have you here among us now, daughter,” the Paragon finally said.
It was a subtle admission, confirmation of what Elyth had long since come to suspect; a truth she had acknowledged, but which until now had remained unspoken.
“You never intended for me to return to the Vaunt,” Elyth answered.
The Paragon smiled sadly.
“And you must feel deeply betrayed.”
“I did,” Elyth confessed. “After. But now that betrayal seems small.”
“Small?” the Paragon said with a chuckle. “Even now you are gracious beyond all reason to your House and your old Mother.”
Elyth hadn’t meant small in the sense that the Paragon had taken it, but she didn’t correct the misunderstanding. The betrayal had been complete, it had opened a rift between them that Elyth was not sure could ever be spanned. But within the context of all she had learned, of all she had seen, it seemed petty by comparison. The games of power and influence between the First House and the Hezra in which Elyth was a pawn seemed to her now to be misguided, and almost shamefully narrow-minded.
“But resentment would be the expected response, dear,” the Paragon continued. “The only natural one, in fact. Surely you feel it.”
“It is the need for the deception that I don’t understand,” Elyth said. “If you had told me at the start that it was a suicide mission, I would have done no less for the House.”
“I believe you,” the elder woman said. “Or, at least I am certain you believe you would have. It is one thing, however, to ask someone to give their life in service to a greater cause. It is something different entirely to ask them to suffer intensely for an unknown period of time, and to continue to strive in the midst of suffering, knowing the ultimate outcome is death. Another miscalculation on my part, perhaps.
“I believed you would carry out the decree, and in doing so would be absorbed and lost to the infinite. We all did. It seemed the most gentle and gracious way to quell the danger.”
The final question that lingered in Elyth’s mind was answered. It had all begun with her recall from Revik… a message sent after she had already begun the irreversible work. That too had been no accident. The first false lead to send her on her way. The urgency of the recall had served as the pretext for her truncated recovery time; the lack of recovery had been intended to guarantee her dissolution when she carried out the judgment of Qel.
“I see wisdom within it,” Elyth admitted. “An Advocate of the Voice corrupted by the Strain would be an unpredictable threat. Resistant, perhaps, even to the combined might of the House and the Hezra.”
“Perhaps,” the Paragon answered. The glint in her eye showed that she had not missed the mild challenge in Elyth’s response. “But do not allow yourself to believe it did not wound me, my bright daughter. When I told you I was giving the best the House had to offer, I meant it.”
“And yet you commanded me with a binding phrase.”
The Paragon’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at Elyth’s words; the first genuine display of surprise Elyth had ever witnessed in the woman. Shock at Elyth’s ability to discern the truth of what it meant to be called Guided by the True Star. A moment later, a thin smile stretched the matriarch’s lips.
“It was not meant to bind you, child. It was intended to insulate you from the effects of the Strain. A defense, to keep you to your purpose. It was the only solution we could foresee.
“But it would appear that not all solutions can be foreseen, even by the wisest among us. Indeed, it would seem those same minds cannot help but underestimate you. Which brings us to the ultimate matter…”
“My expulsion from the Order of the Voice,” Elyth said.
The Paragon nodded.
“With your true identity known to the Hezra, I… of course the House will protect you, my dear, but going forward, I fear your service would be substantially limited.
“And I know it would be difficult for you to leave the Order,” the Paragon continued. “I won’t insist upon it. I’m sure a place could be made for you, perhaps as an instructor or something of the sort, if you would choose that way. But you are young yet, with much still to offer, and I believe you would find those responsibilities too burdensome. Too confining.”
“I had not expected the House to offer any choice in my fate.”
The Paragon leaned forward.
“There are many paths open to you, Elyth. Many before us all. The old game has been wiped away. Though few see it, the foundation of the Ascendance has shaken. And our place within it is uncertain, now that the Hezra has regained much of its former glory. We have much work ahead.”
Given her lengthy isolation, Elyth had expected some surprises. But the thought had never crossed her mind that the Hezra might benefit from the near calamity for which it had been responsible.
“Gained glory?” she said.
“For redeeming Qel,” the Paragon answered.
“I don’t understand.”
The Paragon sat back with a gentle, patient smile.
“The official history reflects how the hierarchy developed a new protocol in secret, one meant to replace the Contingency. And Qel was its first true test. Kept hidden, in case it failed. But, because of its success, now revealed to the Ascendance at large, in glorious display. The losses they suffered grant it all an aura of heroic sacrifice that only bolsters the reputation.”
“Losses?”
“Of the twenty Heralds they sent, only eight returned.”
Elyth recalled the vision she’d had, when she and eth ammuin had stood against the power of that fleet. The ships in orbit, broken. Not just a vision after all.
“For the good of the Ascendance, the Hezra bore the dishonor of the first Markovian Strain,” the Paragon continued. “Now that is repaid.”
“But why? How could you allow it?”
“Concessions had to be made to bring you home, my daughter.”
Despite Elyth’s emotional distance, the weight of that revelation settled on her shoulders; there was no knowing what else her relative freedom had cost the First House.
“And,” she asked, keeping her words carefully neutral, “what of eth ammuin?”
“Hidden away in some Hezra hole,” the Paragon replied, watching intently to gauge Elyth’s reaction. Elyth felt many things: joy that he was still alive; fear for the treatment he must have even now been enduring; an unexpected reflexive desire to rescue him. But all of these feelings she kept buried in her heart.
After a few moments the Paragon added, “And watched over by our own Hand. A strange alliance, certainly. But in giving concessions, we also extracted them.
“In time enough, we’ll unlock his secrets. I suspect there is a great deal more we can learn, particularly with your insights.”
The Paragon shifted her posture once more, straightening while remaining seated on the porch. It gave her an air of authority, even in its informality.
“Certainly you have your detractors,” she continued. “Those who believe it was a mistake for us to receive you back into the House. But you are not without supporters. Few know the truth, of course, as is so often the case in our matters.
“And though I believe we could find a place for you to remain within the Voice, if that is your desire, I had hoped that perhaps you might consider becoming an Advocate of the Mind. That you might come and serve directly under me… Or, rather, alongside me.”
In all her imagining, this was one possibility that Elyth had never conceived. That she might be elevated to the highest level within the First House, to stand beside the Paragon herself, among her scant handful of advisors and counselors. A height from which she would have not only direct involvement and influence over the future of the House, but would also gain a voice to shape the vision of the Ascendance itself.
And in a spark of insight she saw as well how within such company the greatest Advocates the House had produced would keep her close, and controlled. Elyth smiled to herself. Here then was the promise of a golden prison.
“You’re right, it would be difficult to leave the Voice,” Elyth said. “But leaving is something I’ve considered deeply during my recovery. I believe it may be the best thing for everyone, in fact.”
The Paragon smiled.
“Then you’ll come and serve by my side?”
“There is perhaps no greater honor the House can offer,” Elyth said. “But I cannot accept it.”
The Paragon sat back.
“You see another path,” she said.
“Yes,” Elyth said. She had made her decision long ago. Now she would face the test. “I choose to renounce my vows, and leave the service of the First House.”
The Paragon made no attempt to hide her shock now. For a brief time she was rendered truly speechless.
“Elyth, my bright daughter,” she said, shaking her head. “If you renounce, then you will be exiled from the Vaunt, from all its holdings, now and any established in the future. The House would forevermore be closed to you. You will be beyond any protection your sisters can offer you from the Hezra. They will be watching you, everywhere, always. And if they believe they can take you, they will not hesitate to do so.”
“I know all these things. But this is my path. I choose to walk it.”
The Paragon regarded her closely for a long moment.
“Perhaps in time I could come to allow it,” she said. “But not yet. It would not be wise for you, or for our House. It is clear to me that we each have something more to teach the other.”
It should have been another startling admission, the idea that Elyth might have anything to offer the exalted matriarch of the First House. But Elyth knew it was true. At least partially.
“There may be lessons I could teach you,” Elyth said. “But there’s nothing more I can learn at your feet.”
The Paragon reacted, stung by the comment. An ancient fire rose in her eyes then, and she shot to her feet with startling speed.
“Elyth-Kyriel,” she cried. “You are a sworn servant of the First House, bound by oath to it and to me!”
As the Paragon spoke, she seemed to grow in every direction, and her words stole the air and the light.
Elyth had faced the cosmos in its immolating expansiveness; here now she confronted it personified. All of creation, and all that might have ever been created, compressed into the point of a blade aimed at her heart.
No matter how strong her will, her body could never withstand such focused power. She felt herself folding under its fury.
But even as she bent forward, bowing to that irresistible authority, she swept her arms out like a falcon soaring, and it was as though the planet itself rose up to share the burden. The great hand that crushed her from above became water, flowed around and past her.
Elyth straightened and met the Paragon’s gaze. And though there was terror in the violence of the matriarch’s raw power, it too seemed to flow past Elyth without being able to touch her.
“Bend your knee!” the Paragon cried.
Elyth took the full force of the words, felt it wash through her like the shock wave of a dying star. In the midst of that raging torrent, she found her own voice, still and quiet. And with it she spoke.
“There is no power left by which you may command me.”
At those words, the Paragon fell back and sat heavily upon the porch, astonished. The great power dissipated, light and air returned, and once more she was merely an old woman in her garden. And Elyth knew then, without a doubt, that while the First House had been built on a measure of truth, there was a deeper, fuller truth upon which she now stood.
“I have something for you,” she said, taking a small clothbound bundle from her pocket. She regarded it for a moment, knowing the work that lay within, and how carefully she had crafted it during her time in isolation. But then she held it out to the Paragon, laid across both hands as an offering held up before an ancient power. “I thought perhaps it could find a home here.”
The Paragon received it with cautious curiosity, placed it on her lap while she gently uncovered what lay within. At first she was puzzled by what she saw. But then recognition came, and the Paragon’s face turned grave. She held it up and looked to Elyth with fear and wonder in her eyes.
The frostoak cutting. Remarkably changed. The partial break in the middle had been replaced by a small knot, a smooth-barked scar covering the old wound. Teardrop leaves grew along the cutting, bright green touched by the blue white at the edges that had earned the tree its name. And where once a clean diagonal cut had separated it from its source, now thin tendrils splayed out, delicate and tender, seeking out new life.
What eth ammuin had begun, she had continued.
“A memento,” Elyth said.
The Paragon set the cutting aside, apparently at a loss over what else to do.
“If renunciation is your true decision—”
“It is,” Elyth said.
“Then hold out your hands.”
Elyth did as she was instructed, presenting her hands palm up, as though to receive some great gift. The Paragon stood, and that great ancient power asserted itself once more. Fearsome, awesome even now, despite its recent chastisement.
“Elyth-Kyriel,” the Paragon said. “Servant of the First House of the Ascendance, Advocate of the Voice… by the power of your own declaration, you are thus expelled from the Order, exiled from the Vaunt, and henceforth banished from the House. I call you storm-driven, chaser of winds, a wandering star in the deep. You bear our name no longer.”
With the final proclamation, the intricate markings on Elyth’s palms and forearms glowed once more with their starlight. Slowly the brilliant silver blue darkened, then changed and burned ember red as the figures and designs withered and faded. Everything Elyth had ever been in the House vanished with them into nothingness.
“Thank you, Paragon,” Elyth said, bowing respectfully. “But my name is Elyth-Anuiel.”
Elyth turned and left the garden then, and took her last walk across the grounds of the Vaunt, breathing its garden-sweet air, feeling its golden warmth and serenity. And though she knew that once she crossed outside its bounds she would be leaving behind all she had ever been, and all she had worked to become, that thought seemed somehow no longer frightening or sad. To her own surprise, she realized she felt something she had not anticipated.
Free.
She was Elyth-Anuiel. Now, she would make her own way.