And what of evil? said the town’s mayor to the Master of Bobcats.
Evil is a powerful man’s greatest friend. It will either fill his heart or line his pockets.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jasminda pulled Jack’s coat around her tighter. The thick, wet fabric did relatively little to keep out the driving chill of the rain. He hadn’t worn it long enough for his scent to permeate—and the dampness would have washed it away in any case—yet since she could not hold him, she settled for the jacket.
Dusk had fallen, and the murky haze was penetrated only slightly by the vehicle’s headlamps. Benn navigated the four-wheeler with ease despite the sodden roads.
Jack’s pensive mood was so present, it could have taken up an entire seat. He was eating himself up with blame for the cornerstone’s destruction. Jasminda wished she could soothe him. If he hadn’t taken Morryn’s map and tried to use it, the True Father would have just found another. And that person might not have been so lucky as to have been saved by someone like Osar.
But guilt was guilt, and Jack continued to stew in his. The unvoiced question was this: had the cornerstone’s ruin hastened the fall of the Mantle?
Nothing catastrophic had happened in the days since the avalanche, but maybe the worst was yet to come. A headache formed at the base of Jasminda’s skull. They could only move forward, not back. What was done was past.
The four-wheeler approached a grouping of low, gray structures hugging the earth. The Eastern Army Base was all bland concrete, straight lines, and harsh corners, made drearier by the persistent rain.
Benn pulled to a stop beside a row of other vehicles, and Jack faced Jasminda, his expression grim. “I need to check on some things. Benn will have sleeping quarters located for you.”
“I won’t be with the others?”
Jack shook his head emphatically. “You are an Elsiran citizen, not a refugee. That must be made clear.”
He leaned in to speak a few words to Benn and then was off, disappearing into one of the nondescript buildings.
“Miss Jasminda, if you’ll follow me.”
Benn led her into the largest building on the base. Concrete floors and cinder block walls did not make the hallway inviting. Harsh overhead light gave everything a pallid sheen. They passed a number of doors with square glass embedded within. Beyond was a large space, a gymnasium perhaps, holding rows and rows of cots. Lagrimari huddled together as Elsiran soldiers finished setting up the pallets.
Jasminda shivered, glad she would not have to spend the night among so many strangers.
Benn led her down another hallway and motioned her to a small row of metal chairs. “Would you like something hot to drink? Coffee or tea?”
She sank into a seat. “Coffee would be nice.” He nodded and disappeared into one of the many rooms. Though she sat alone, the building buzzed with energy. She reached for Earthsong to sense the people around her, hidden behind walls and doors. Wariness and anxiety pervaded.
The Elsiran soldiers were now tasked with housing those whom they’d only ever seen as the enemy. The atmosphere was taut with tension.
Two soldiers tramped down the hall. Their conversation halted when they caught sight of her. Jasminda averted her eyes, but couldn’t avoid the hostility rolling off them.
The men continued on, but their voices reached her. “Looks like the commander has himself a new pet.”
A snort. “A grol bitch to fetch the paper and eat the table scraps.” Laughter.
Jasminda hunched over, ducking her head. But her shame was quickly replaced by anger, which raced like a streak of lightning sizzling through her veins. The sensation of pins and needles pricked her skin. The hair on her arms stood up.
“Wonder what he’s thinking, keeping them all here. Could be the lot of them are spies seeking intel.”
One man chuckled derisively. “Fat lot of intel available in the mess hall.”
“That’s not the point. We should gut every grol we come across. That’s less of them to fight when the next breach comes.”
A third voice spoke up. “I don’t know. There’s a couple of fit birds out there I wouldn’t mind tussling with.” More laughter.
Jasminda clenched her fists until her knuckles hurt. Though the area around her was empty, she was aware of another presence nearby. At first she thought her Song sensed someone in an adjoining room, but this was closer than that. As close as frost coating her skin. An unseen entity stoking her anger like bellows to a fire.
Untethered emotions swirled inside her. Her Song pulsed, drawing in more Earthsong until she was pregnant with power.
“The one the commander picked out is the fittest, though. Maybe once he’s done with her, he’ll give us a turn.”
She couldn’t hold on anymore. Her rage exploded, funneling itself through her Song.
Her chair vibrated. The floor shook in gentle waves, then more forcefully. A violent wind basted down the hallway. Doors slammed wildly. Furniture rattled.
Frantic soldiers rushed into the hall. Jasminda kept her head down, trying to control herself. In moments, the flare-up was over. Her Song was simply too weak to sustain that much energy. She was burned out and, moreover, horrified at what had just happened.
The foreign presence had disappeared, and the building was in chaos. Men with guns drawn raced past her and around the corner.
What in Sovereign’s name had she done? She stood on wobbly legs and followed them into the mess hall. The refugees were crushed together in the center with weapons trained on them by wild-eyed soldiers.
Jasminda covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. She caught Gerda’s terrified gaze and wanted to melt into a puddle of shame. Jack appeared, calling for calm. Despite his words, the tension in the room was oppressive.
“What happened?” he asked, looking around. “Who was responsible for that?” He repeated it in Lagrimari.
Jasminda swallowed her fear and took a deep breath, preparing to step forward.
“The children are frightened, sir. They acted without thought.” Gerda’s voice was calm and even. She stood beside Osar, an arm around him.
Jasminda’s breath staggered. She couldn’t let the old woman shift the blame to the poor children. When she moved forward, Gerda held out a hand surreptitiously to stop her. “We will make sure it doesn’t happen again,” the gray-haired woman said.
Jack expelled a breath and rubbed his face. His shoulders sagged. He stepped closer to Gerda. “Tensions are high, as I’m sure you know. If my men feel threatened they will react, and I may not be here to stop them. Many of these soldiers were in the Seventh Breach. Any display of Earthsong will inflame them.”
“I understand.” Gerda’s gaze seemed to cut through Jack straight to Jasminda, who stood several dozen paces behind him, hovering near the wall. “We will stay watchful and calm.”
“I would appreciate it.” Jack turned and spoke to his men, but his words blended together in Jasminda’s ears. As the soldiers left to go back to wherever they’d come from, Gerda approached.
“You must beware, child. We are not the only ones slipping through the Mantle’s cracks.”
“What do you mean?” Jasminda’s voice shook.
“You felt something, did you not, in the wind and rain and snow?”
Jasminda’s eyes widened. “How did you know? I sensed … someone. Something. And just now it happened again. Only this time it set upon me, made me lose control of my Song.”
Gerda nodded. “The storm, it is tainted. The True Father is breaking free of his chains. And you are a target now because of the caldera.”
“He knows I have it?”
“Not exactly.” Gerda tilted her head to the side. “While the Mantle stands, he is limited. But his spell is drawn to the stone like a tracking dog. This storm will seek you out looking for weakness to exploit. Feeding on your anger. You must be stronger than it. Protect your mind.” She tapped a wrinkled finger against the side of her head.
Jasminda tightened her arms around her waist. “Why didn’t you warn me before?”
Gerda shrugged. “We weren’t sure it would affect you. I was hoping you would be immune.”
“Well, I’m not.” Jasminda stepped back. At least her Song was depleted until tomorrow. She could do no further damage.
Benn appeared, bearing a perplexed expression and a mug of coffee.
“I have to go,” Jasminda said, sullen. Gerda smiled and shuffled away.
Jasminda accepted the coffee gratefully, allowing the liquid to scald her tongue. The discomfort grounded her. The invasive vileness of the True Father’s magic was nothing she would soon forget. She only hoped she could somehow steel herself against it.