Kihrin found Thurvishar in the library, or rather, the three thousand years of accumulated detritus that had passed for a library to a bachelor who had never once considered that another person might need to look through all his centuries of research. Books littered every room of the tower, along with notes, diagrams, junk, and objects whose purpose and providence were unfathomable. Kihrin had no idea how most of it hadn’t rotted away, besides the obvious: magic. But then, there was rather a lot of magic here. The walls stank of it, the floors vibrated with tenyé sunk into every pore of granite and quartz. The stone was a battery for wizardly power, although not enough power.
Never enough power for what they needed.
The D’Lorus Lord Heir didn’t look up from his reading. “May I help you?”
A bang made Thurvishar glance up as Kihrin dropped a large, heavy book on the table. Kihrin had to shove a stack of papers out of the way so Thurvishar might actually be able to see him as he spoke. “Are you going to write another one?”
Thurvishar paused, then closed the text he’d been reading. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
“Are you going to write another book? Like the one you wrote about finding Urthaenriel?” Kihrin gazed at him intently.
“Technically speaking, I didn’t write—”
“You did,” Kihrin said. “You may have had those transcripts, but you can’t tell me you didn’t make up large chunks of it. Senera wasn’t wrong about that.” The golden-haired man paused. “I think you need to do it again. You need to write another book.”
Thurvishar straightened. “To send to Empress Tyentso, you mean?”
“Sure, that too.” Kihrin drummed his fingers on the book he’d returned. “I just think if we don’t, they will.” He didn’t clarify who “they” were, but it was obvious: Relos Var and his associate, Senera. And likely his new apprentice, Qown.
Thurvishar studied the book under Kihrin’s fingers and pursed his lips. “So I take it you finished both accounts, then?”
“Yeah,” Kihrin said. “And I think your conclusions are right.”1 Then the young man sighed. “But I want … I want to cover what’s happened since then. I know you were there for almost all of it, but I keep thinking that there’s something we missed. Something we could have … I don’t know. Something we could have done differently.” He shook his head. “I keep telling myself that it didn’t have to end this way.”
“Kihrin, are you—” Thurvishar grimaced. “Are you going to be all right?”
“What do you think?” Kihrin snapped, and then he stopped himself, exhaling. “I’m sorry. But no. No, I don’t think I’m going to be all right at all. Maybe never again.”
Kihrin picked up a page from the stack of papers he’d moved earlier, and glanced at it. When he realized what it said, he raised an eyebrow at Thurvishar.
The wizard cleared his throat. “I may have already started. But I was going to ask you for your input, I promise.”
Kihrin’s mouth quirked. “No time like the present.”