My comm unit beeped me awake a full hour before our scheduled meet-up in the morning. This time I was better prepared than yesterday. I’d convinced Yashor to pick me up at the cluster entrance.
Today was a big day. My last day on the Ethereal task force meant it might be my last day with access to the Council building. I wanted to make the most of it.
I jumped into the steam shower for a few minutes, yanked most of the tangles from my hair, and kissed Sona goodbye for the day. She burrowed deeper under the covers. After locating a pen and paper in a kitchen drawer, I scribbled Mom and Talin a quick note telling them I loved them and I’d see them later.
Yashor was pulling up just as I raced from my home cluster.
“Good morning!” I slid into the vehicle. “Any trouble getting the transport?”
He shook his head. “No problem at all. All Breathers have full access to the transports. I guess they trust us.” He chuckled to himself and turned the vehicle south toward the Council.
I averted my eyes from the front window, where trees flew past us. “How can you stand to stare out the window when we’re moving this quickly?”
“I’d prefer that we not crash,” he said with a hint of mocking in his voice.
“But doesn’t it make you ill?”
“Not at all. I’m meant to move like this. I can even distinguish different objects as they fly past us, like you can do at speeds that are normal for you.”
“That’s amazing,” I said. I wished I could move like that.
“Are you kidding? Your ability trumps anything I can do by far.”
A loud guffaw slipped from my throat. “So far, all I’ve done is create a shield—which caused me a bloody nose. Oh, and I ran away from a Mage in a panic.” Some big bad Ethereal I turned out to be.
“You’ll be fine. Think of it this way: everything any of us can do, you can defend. And your power source is everywhere.”
“So is yours.”
“Yes, but yours can be manipulated more precisely. I can’t form the wind into a shield, for example. And I can throw a ball of air at you, but it won’t do much damage when I’m battling something bigger than I am.”
“That’s all good in theory. But I can’t do any of the cool stuff I’m supposed to be able to do.”
“At least you have a shot at greatness. At best, I’m just good for transportation. Speaking of which, we’re here.”
“Thanks!” I hopped out of the vehicle and hurried to the front door of the building.
The day’s duties wouldn’t begin until the suns rose, so the Council building was mostly empty now. A few older Council members were chatting in the foyer. Probably longtime members instead of new recruits, since they were here before the meeting times.
For their benefit, I strode straight to the back of the building toward the briefing room. “Please stay calm. Remain calm,” the female voice droned from the walls of the hallway. Not likely.
With a peek over my shoulder, I veered down a hallway and up two flights on the back steps. The third floor was the only place I hadn’t been in this building. I figured all these Council stiffs had to go somewhere while we were occupying their main level and basements.
Sure enough, the stairs led to a hallway with doors lining each of the two walls. Thankfully, that annoying remain-calm message didn’t play up here. I guessed it was only for the benefit of the new recruits, who weren’t supposed to be up here.
All the doors were closed. I had no idea which one might have a Seer behind it, preferably an older Seer—someone who would know something about my father and what the hell was going on here. There was a reason the elders had added me to the task force despite my lack of experience and their apparent dislike of me. I intended to find out.
Tiptoeing down the hall, I peeked into the small window set in each door. In the first office, a woman sat scribbling behind a desk. A large bin filled with what looked like dirt sat in the center of the room. A Mover’s office.
I ducked away from the window before she could see me. My pulse sped. I’d have to make this quick before someone came into the hallway and caught me. I didn’t have an excuse for being up here, and “I got lost” wasn’t going to work when none of the new recruits had been invited to this floor.
I wondered what they’d do if they found me up here. Scold me? Send me home? It wouldn’t matter much after Loken spoke with Elder Kohler about yesterday.
I peeked into another window. The room was empty. I almost moved on to the next door, but stopped when I recognized the familiar scrawl of Loken’s handwriting on a display board. My eyes darted around the room, searching for Loken. Definitely empty. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. This wasn’t why I’d come upstairs, but curiosity got the better of me.
Immediately, my senses filled with Loken. His sweet metallic scent. An array of metal weapons hanging on the far wall. His handwriting on papers neatly stacked throughout the room.
I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it, I was sitting in his office chair with my feet propped on the desk. I tapped a button on the computer. The screen flashed on, asking for a password. The chair was adjusted too low, since Loken was much taller than I was, so I moved the keyboard to my lap.
First I tried his mother’s name. Madriel. No, that wasn’t it.
My name? Ashara. I held my breath. But no, that was wrong too. I scowled at the screen.
I tried is birth date, his mother’s birth date, my birth date, and the day we met. At that last one, a new screen flashed up. “Fingerprint entry,” it said. A set of four fingerprint-sized ovals appeared on the screen.
Damn.
I canceled the login process and turned off the screen, redirecting my attention to the rest of the desk. Neat stacks of paper were arranged on my right. I grabbed one and slid it toward me. The top page had a single word across its center, with a question mark: “Traitor?” I set it aside and looked at the papers underneath. They held names—pages and pages of them. Some were underlined. Some were crossed out.
The top of the second page read, “Breather Task Force,” followed by what I assumed was a list of Breather names. I flipped to the last page, which was labeled, “Ethereal Task Force.” Under the heading, each of our names was listed: Elis, Jin, Krin, Mauryn, and me. Loken had scratched out my name. Jin’s name was underlined twice and followed by a giant question mark.
Typical Loken. Always considering every angle.
I put the papers back the way I found them and glanced around the room.
A spare weapons belt hung from a hook on the far wall. I pushed away from the desk, strode over to it, and grabbed it off the hook. I attached it around my waist and pulled the strap to tighten the fit. Turning a circle, I admired the look and feel of the belt.
I touched a fingertip to the hilt of the sword, imagining myself pulling it free of its sheath and stabbing a Mage through the gut. The hilt was pure metal, not leather-wrapped like swords of non-Benders.
I unsheathed it and rotated my hand to examine the smooth metal. I’d seen a few swords in the past, and all of them had nicks and scratches. This blade was the exception, with not an imperfection in sight. Right now, it was the standard length for Vallaran swords, eighteen inches. I rapped on the silver metal with my knuckles, mesmerized by how solid it was when not bending to Loken’s will.
I blinked. And when I opened my eyes again, the sword looked different somehow.
Squinting, trying to determine what had changed, I placed the blade against my left palm. Its cool metal was still solid. Still smooth. Still reflecting the lights overhead.
I must have imagined it.
I sheathed the sword. The point hit the bottom of the sheath, and the sword would go no farther. But part of the blade still showed between the hilt and the sheath. The sheath had fit the blade perfectly a moment ago, and now it was too short. Or maybe it had never fit, and I just hadn’t noticed before.
The sword couldn’t have changed. I was an Ethereal, not a Bender. That had been established on video, allegedly, as well as by the shield I’d created a couple days ago. Ethereals did not manipulate metal. They just didn’t.
I made my way around the rest of the room. An archaic cork board hung on the wall opposite the desk. Numerous sheets of paper holding Loken’s familiar scrawl stuck to the board. Long, heavy strokes scratched out most of the words on the papers. Some of the scratches had ripped the pages where he’d pressed too hard.
A large map, approximately ten feet wide, hung in the middle of the board. A map of Vallara and its surrounding regions, with multicolored pushpins strewn across the board.
I moved closer to the map. The push-pins appeared to be color-coded, with blue pins connected together in a sequence by blue thread, green pins connected by green thread, and so forth for numerous color variations—at least fifty.
Together, the threads and drawn lines looked like a firework centered on Vallara, like Vallara had exploded and spawned these lines going in every direction.
No. That’s not right.
The lines weren’t going outward from Vallara. They were going inward toward Vallara.
My gaze moved to just above the map, where Loken had scrawled on a piece of paper, “Why now?”
I stared at the page. Loken was tracking the movements of the Mages, and they were all coming here. Over fifty of them. But Loken was focused on why they were coming here now. Now, as opposed to the earlier timelines? What was different about this one?
This was insanity. I’d seen a hundred—maybe two hundred—people at our opening meeting a few days ago. That meant four people per Mage. If we were talking about four trained Council members against one Mage, I’d like those odds. But with the vast majority of the practitioners being untrained in Mage combat . . . An icy shiver crept up my spine. Seeing it on paper like this just made it all too real. These odds were not in our favor.
I had to talk to Krin or Rey before I reached complete panic level. My fingertips were already on the door by the time I remembered the weapons belt. I wrestled with the strap, unclasped it, and tossed it back onto the hook where I’d found it.
I threw the door open and barreled toward the stairs, colliding with a thick body already in the hallway. The man I’d run into clasped the top of my arm and held me upright. A hooded black robe cast most of his face in shadow even in the bright hallway. A Seer.
“What are you doing up here?” He continued to grip my arm and shifted me toward the stairs. “Recruits are confined to the lower levels.”
My mind raced with all the questions I could ask him. About the Mages? No, I wanted to talk to Krin and Rey about that before babbling nonsensically to some guy I didn’t know. So I asked what I’d come here to find out; it was now or never.
I shook my arm free from his grasp. “I’m looking for information about my father. He was a Seer.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, giving him an ominous appearance in the shadow of the hood. I shuffled away from him a couple feet. I shifted to the balls of my feet, ready to make for the stairway if I needed a quick escape.
“What’s his name?”
“Nole. And he’s dead.”
The man’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, child. May the gods watch over him.”
“I don’t believe in the gods.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, most of us here at the Council do not—except us Seers. We see them. I’m sure your father saw them too.”
I was beginning to regret my plan. This man knew nothing about my father. And I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about the gods. “Forget it.” I turned to go. I’d find Elder Kohler later and demand information.
“Wait.” He placed his hands on my shoulders to stop me from bolting. I expected him to say more. Instead, he flipped back his hood and peered into my eyes. His pupils contracted to pinpoints, expanding the brown of his irises.
In the back of my mind, a small voice urged me to pull away. But curiosity won out. For minutes, we stood in the hallway, his hands pressing on my shoulders as he stared into my soul. “You are an odd puzzle, New One,” he said.
“New One?”
He nodded. “Most of us—our bodies are worn, old, spent. But yours is not. You are new . . . somehow.”
I inched backward toward the stairs, but his fingers pressed deeper into my shoulders.
After a moment, he released me and then nodded. “You will be the end.” He tilted his head to the side, as if considering. “Or our salvation, perhaps.”
I inched backward. “What does that mean?”
“That is all I can see.”
I spun on my heel and ran down the stairs. I didn’t stop until I hit the front lawn.