Anxiety blurred the final phase of our journey to Vigil into a pastiche of sensory impressions: the cobalt blue of the night sky, so absurdly clear; the smell of horse sweat and the sound of their hooves striking dry earth as we climbed the rising road; the sense of haste, of anxiety spurring my heart. The touch of the genets. The unfamiliar motions of the mare rocking beneath me. Ivy’s body spent with exhaustion under my arm in the spare hours we claimed between labors. My body could not be hurt, but it could tire if driven hard enough. We were coming close.

Too many days later our party aligned itself upon the final stretch, shadows spilling in front of us as we drew nigh to the city. The wall heaped itself up over the road in what would have once been a grand, armored arch, at least ten stories tall... but weather and wear had tumbled it, pouring its stones over the northern precipice and leaving only a long, ragged diagonal in which a single gate still stood, its spindled curve limned by a single layer of stone and nothing else. Divorced of its reinforcing wall, it made for a haunting reminder of all the knowledge we’d lost: a door into history, barely standing yet.

Beyond it, the rubble of the city was scarcely more ordered, which made the cluster of new buildings erected in the dusty courtyard all the more incongruous. At my look, Eyre said, “They named it Legacy.”

“They should have named it Hubris,” Guy quipped, and no one disagreed.

Our party rode through the gate and into the city. The broad central lane was cluttered with debris, but it had been so wide when built we had no issues traveling it when we stayed near the center. The north side of the city was in poorer condition; on the left, the buildings were more likely to be razed to their foundations, or reduced to half a story. The buildings on the south side had been built flush to the wall of the city, and some of them still reached up several stories before showing their gutted faces.

The road ended in a vast courtyard, one nearly the size of the university grounds. It had once been edged in a balcony, from the spars still jutting from the farthest edge like broken teeth... and away before us, stretching into the distance, was a great, dry channel, over which one or two crumbled bridges still spanned.

“There was once a river there, that rose from beneath the ground,” Eyre said. “It bisected the city. They called it the city of bridges, and there were far more of them. Not just over the river, but between the buildings....” He pointed up at the south side, tracing an imaginary line from one side to the other. “Up on the highest stories. The bigger bridges had circular platforms in the center, where people would stop to talk or sit or eat—there were vendors there.”

“Magic,” Ivy breathed.

“Literally.”

The town of Legacy had been erected in the courtyard, on the northern side, though calling it a town was excessive. There were some seven barracks-style buildings built incongruously of new wood, arranged in a semi-circle, and something that looked like a public house behind them, squatting amid the rubble. I found the sight ugly. Even the remains of Vigil inspired awe, and the city had been aspirational in design: great heights, gracious lanes, beautiful bridges, ambitious walls inscribed with art. The squatters who’d come to dig up her bones had made themselves functional shacks to sleep in, but they paid no homage to the city they were there to study, not even the smallest one by being at least pleasant to look at.

As we approached, one of the doors opened for a youth in dust-streaked clothes; he had one look at us and vanished back inside, no doubt to raise the alarm. The Vessel had ordered her men to roll and store their banners, so until we drew close enough for their livery to be discerned, no one would know who they were... but none of that changed that we were a large party, and unexpected.

Rose sounded resigned as she held her horse back to pace Eyre’s. “I suppose we must leave this in your hands.”

“It would make things easier if they thought I was in charge, yes.”

“A teacher from the university, leading the Covenant made flesh,” Rose said dryly. “They’ll believe this.”

“You have no idea what an academic will believe if it permits self-aggrandizement,” Eyre said. He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are you ready, my student?”

“Past ready,” I replied.

“Then let us see how things fall out,” Eyre said, and dismounted in front of the foremost building just as it began to disgorge the people inside. My sense of them as invaders redoubled, though I knew it to be inappropriate: Vigil had been abandoned for centuries, so any claim the elves—and the kingdom of Troth—might have had on it had long since eroded with the stonework. And yet I couldn’t deny the sensation, and as the number of people before us grew, I found I thought of them as enemies rather than potential allies, as I would once have assumed them in the days when I thought of myself first as a student.

Those days were gone. I was now first my brother’s sword. Or staff, in my case.

That these people had almost no glow when seen through my uncanny spectacles did not help endear them to me. How could they lack magical potential? The Church had spread throughout the continent, had been hard at work on its mission for centuries. Rose had said not all people had the ability, but for no one here to have even a glimmer? Not just a lack of a glow... several of them were dark to my sight, like shadows. That made me shudder, and my horse caviled, reacting to my unease in a way I no longer expected. The drake would have become vigilant, like a predator, not nervous. I missed it.

Eyre was dismounting now to greet three people: two men and a woman, and in the latter I finally saw a spark of light. We’d never discussed how I was to be presented, but we hadn’t needed to; I hung back, and all my friends ranged themselves in front of me, blocking me from view. Even the genets had been mounted behind the humans they’d chosen to ride with, and Guy and the knights of the Church had arrayed themselves in front of Radburn, Ivy, and Chester, all of whom were hosting a genet. Almond rode behind me, and her arms around my waist were trembling. I stroked one of them, reassuring.

All my senses had become more acute with my transformation. I had no trouble hearing the conversation.

“So, Eyre. Come back for another try at relevance?”

“Oh, Roland, stop being such a lout. John, it’s wonderful to see you! Though a bit of a surprise. And with an entourage...!”

“I had good cause, Mary. Doctor Powlett, good to see you again as well.”

“Likewise. So, what brings you here? With, as Miss Carrington observes, entourage? Are those—”

The first man, the one with the supercilious voice. “You brought the Church, Eyre? Really? I know you’re an also-ran, but I thought you had some standards.”

“They were kind enough to provide us escort.” Eyre’s courtesy had an edge, as if he was accentuating it for the sake of their auditors. I could see him past the shoulders of the knights: he was standing stiffly erect, but undeniably confronting the two men to whom he was speaking. There was no camaraderie there despite their obvious familiarity. The woman I could not quite espy from my vantage. “I need access to the vault.”

“Of course,” the woman—Carrington—began, but the first man cut her off.

“We’re in the midst of important work here, Eyre.”

“God, you’re such a boor,” the woman said, exasperated. “Let the man find whatever he’s looking for and leave, Roland. He has before without disrupting anything.”

“That was before he brought a double handful of priests.”

The second man said, dubious, “He has a point, Miss Carrington.”

“I don’t need your help,” Eyre said. “And I don’t need anything in the antechamber. My business is with the vault.”

A long pause. The men who’d gathered around them were straining to hear more.

“The vault.” Roland’s scorn could have drawn blood. “Really.”

“Yes.” Eyre’s smile was small, but I could hear it in his voice. “I’ve come to open it.”

“You and what magic?” Roland asked with a laugh.

Had I ever been given a clearer cue? I urged the horse forth, and my friends and the knights parted for me, their silence absolute. I thought briefly of making some dramatic gesture, some statement... but too well I remembered my first sight of an elf on the Archipelago, behind a desk in a factor’s office. Anything beyond my arrival would have been unnecessary. So in that silence I drew back on the reins and waited on the horse’s back, steadied by Almond’s arms around my waist. There was no wind, no word, not even a drawn breath. Everyone’s gaze swung to me and was riveted.

“My God,” the woman whispered, her hands flying toward her mouth but not reaching it. “My God, John.”

“As you can see,” Eyre said calmly, “I have made arrangements.”

The two men standing alongside the woman were staring at me, and I guessed the shorter one with the slack-jawed shock on his dark face to be Powlett, as the taller one’s face was only just relaxing out of a sneer and into surprise.

“Morgan Locke,” Eyre said. “My colleagues. Doctors Mary Carrington, Emery Powlett, and Hugh Roland.” He canted his head. “Where are the others, by the by?”

“Down in the catacombs,” Carrington said. She was an elegant woman about Eyre’s age, willow-long and light-skinned with a bun of silver-threaded gold. My horse backed away as she took a hesitant step toward me. “Did he say... Morgan Locke?”

“He did,” I said, and watched her flinch at the sound of my voice. I wondered suddenly if the bellsong and ocean surf in it was not some quality native to elves, but a function of the Angel’s Gift. Could I turn it off? I would have to try later.

I could sense her frustration. She wanted to know how I’d ended up with a human name. I was not inclined to tell her, not when I perceived everyone around us to be at odds with Eyre.

Of the two men, the taller one recovered more quickly, walking past his colleague to stare up at me in... what? Some mixture of hauteur and avarice, I thought, which I saw past the dark blot my spectacles painted over his heart. I had seen similar looks on elves confronted with particularly toothsome feasts, had had such a look directed at me by someone intent on stealing my essence from me; was it because my glasses suggested his empty well that I made the connection? Or was he truly similar in character? Either way I disliked him, and perhaps it showed for he twitched. But he was made of stern stuff, Eyre’s rival, for he kept coming until he was almost close enough to reach me with an outstretched arm.

“Welcome, my lord,” he said. “We are gratified to offer our hospitality to one of the elder kindred at last.”

I looked down my nose at him, over the rim of the spectacles with their single lens. And ignored everything he’d said. “You will not speak to Professor Eyre in such a manner again.”

“What?” He recovered himself. “No. Of course not. John and I are peers.” He smiled. “A sibling rivalry, if you would. Nothing important.”

“I have a brother,” I said. “I would never speak to him thus.”

His pause then was more distinct. “Ah... no. I imagine you don’t. We are less like brothers and more... colleagues. A professional rivalry, if you would.” A thinner smile. “We squabble. It’s tradition. Competition keeps us strong.”

God, what ghastly thoughts. To reveal their lack of solidarity to a stranger, without knowing whether he might use that knowledge against them? Perhaps I had been far too conditioned to the Archipelago’s cutthroat interactions, but I couldn’t imagine going on this way even in Evertrue. Was he always this wrong-footed? I had to imagine not, or he would never have gotten the better of Eyre. His awkwardness had to be due to me.

I supposed I merited a little awkwardness from a human who’d never known me as anything but an elf.

“He didn’t mean any ill by it,” the shorter man said from behind him.

I glanced from one of them to the other, assessing the dark holes in them where I’d become accustomed to seeing a glow and finding them disturbing. “All of these people with me. We require board and room and access to the vault, as well as introductions to the other scholars present. Otherwise, you will not impede us.”

The two men met each other’s eyes with what could only be called panic. Roland said, “Surely we could be of aid to you? We’ve been here a long time, Lord Locke. We might serve as guides—”

“You cannot guide where you have not seen,” I said, and lifted a brow. “Unless you’ve opened the vault yourself?”

“We’ve opened some small locked chambers,” Carrington said.

“You cannot open the door that I must.” I slid off the horse. “We’ll see it now, in fact. If you will spare someone to guide us there.”

“Of course,” Powlett hastened to say.

I looked at Rose and the knights. “And I would appreciate your seeing to my people’s lodging.”

This was sufficient cue for everyone to begin dismounting. I helped Almond down, and Ivy and Chester came to me, followed by the rest of the genets, and Guy and Radburn. The Vessel met my eyes and arched her brows; I answered with an infinitesimal shake of my head. I needed someone to remain on the surface to wait for Last and the others, and the knights would be best suited to meet any threat that might be chasing them. It was unlikely that Amhric would arrive today, but what if the peril afflicting him had more than one party to devote to chasing down wayward elven royalty?

“This way,” Roland said to me, subdued, and I fell into step behind him.

Chester, abreast of me, murmured, “Laying it on a little thick, are we?”

His Gift was accented—a Church accent, I’d have to call it—and for a moment I didn’t understand the words. Then I eyed him before answering in kind. “They don’t seem inclined to help my teacher. Best they think of me as the one they have to deal with.”

“The haughty elven prince, mm?”

What responsorial or liturgy had taught him the word ‘haughty’, I wondered? My mouth twitched, but I forced myself not to smile. “Am I playing the role well?”

“I expect Guy will have quite the commentary when we’re alone.”

I really did smile then, but I hid it quickly when the professor’s colleagues glanced over their shoulders at us.

The catacombs were accessed by a hole in the ground, a very disappointing one. If the vague outlines on the ground were any indication there had once been a very large room surrounding the opening, but the rubble had long since been cleared to make access to the stairs safer… and the stairs, at least, were impressive. A long and shallow set, each step incised with dragons that knotted around circles that were, I saw as I stepped on the third, elven words. I heard Chester’s breath catch and knew he’d seen it too.

What had I expected of Vigil’s athenaeum? Nothing my imagination had been capable of preparing me for. The stairs did not proceed to the floor, but branched off into circular landings large enough to be rooms themselves, and these balconies overlooked an enormous hall. The books that lined the shelves on these walls... I could see why the work of cataloging them required so many assistants, and why it was barely begun despite the vaults having been opened in my childhood.

I had no eyes for it, though, because my gaze was drawn inexorably toward the furthest wall.

One of Eyre’s colleagues was talking. “...was here when we discovered this passage, and it needed nearly half a year just to safely excavate it—”

“There,” I said to Eyre, staring. “Do you see it?”

Eyre came to stand alongside me on one of the balconies, following my gaze. The detritus in the hall had been relegated to the center of the floor, near the stairwell, leaving the shelves unobstructed... as well as the back wall. My friends were looking at the branching corridors that led off from the nave of this unlikely cathedral, and several of these halls were choked closed, others barred with doors. But none of them mattered, because the back wall, innocuous and empty, was only pretense.

“Do you?” I asked again, softer.

I could sense him stretching outward with his newly trained sorcerous sight by the way the glow in him seemed to contract and spread toward his chest and fingers. “A falsehood?” he said, hesitant. “Do I perceive correctly?”

I nodded and turned from the vista, suddenly ready to be done with the waiting, with the journey, with the impotence that had dogged me from the moment I’d been born. My birthright awaited me behind the hidden ingress, and with it the key to free my brother’s power and save the soul of a people who needed death to make sense of life. Drawing the others behind me like the skein of a net, I stepped foot on the floor of history and advanced on destiny. My path brought me to solid stone, and I reflected at how ridiculously appropriate it was, that I should face in the end something that seemed to be something that it wasn’t.

I spread my hand on it.

“What is he doing?” Carrington.

“What he came here to do.” Eyre.

Behind me, footsteps: Chester’s tread, and Ivy’s lighter, and Almond’s lightest of all. I thought the other, subtle scratch and drag, was Kelu’s.

I thought of Amhric and wished for glass. We had passed beyond the era where elves made sacrifice of themselves, but perhaps we would come around to it again. For now....

“Knife,” I said, and held out my hand, felt a haft set on it. When I opened my eyes, Guy was standing alongside me, and said with his eyes everything he knew better than to say aloud in front of strangers: that I was a crazy bastard, but I was their crazy bastard, and they trusted me. I smiled at him and then drew the blade over my palm, the skin blooming scarlet. Just a thin cut, one that closed almost as fast as I opened it. No waste. Just enough to do the work. I gave him back the knife, murmured my thanks, flexed my fingers against the bright ache.

Set my palm on the falsehood, feeling the truth behind it, tingling, answering the magic in the blood ladders. So it was, and so it would always be. Magic was not in the blood, but in the gift of it.

I closed my eyes and my fingers, dragged my palm down the wall, and revealed the door.

“My God,” someone whispered behind me, and then I passed through.