"Ah, don't feet lick me," Illenna said, looking to the left. The wall once was closer, now it was a world away—shrouded in dim light and darkness. "But yes, I did make a breakthrough, perhaps one day I will get an Elmiran."
Avatar. Old tongue. So she aims to become a redeemed rank. Ivory noted this shared ambition and said, "Maybe the fool's clan might give you the required recitation."
Illenna scowled. "You mock me, child?"
Ivory recoiled internally. "No!"
"Then, tell me, how the fools, a great clan with their machinations, would give me, a member of another great clan, the means to grow stronger."
"To boost unity."
"In what reality has the fools ever cared for that?" she sighed, "Ah, forget. There are other means to advance."
Riskier means. Ivory thought this, then said, "May the mother protect you."
"Write it on the ground when you get the chance." Illenna laughed, "Oh, complete your story."
So she never left the trace. Ivory felt a sigh. "As I said, I was attacked and I defended."
"How?"
"Perhaps some intrusion by the symbols. It has happened."
"A rare thing that I very much doubt happened to you." Illenna stretched her fingers, letting the cane rest on her neck. "What reason do you have to hide this?"
Father did not question this much. Ivory thought—and knew then the meanings of the disputes. Illenna had little trust. An odd thing. What did she think? That I am part of some threat to the clan.
"Silence does not say anything, nephew."
"It says enough if one can listen."
There was a moment of silence. "Your mother's voice speaks through you," Illenna said, "Her voice is yours. A very, very strange thing. Parents should allow other voices for their children, not impose theirs upon them."
Ivory lost herself. "Enough!" she snapped, "Mother is the wife of the highness."
"A property after my brother died."
"Argon is also your brother!" Ivory recognized her internal turmoil. Why was she so enraged?
"Yes, yes." Illenna now looked at her and smiled. "I'm sorry for my words. I'm just startled at my beautiful niece being attacked. I mean no offence."
She pleads innocence because she knows I'm to be the next highness. Ivory thought. This was the way of things—often, people lost their temper in her presence, but in the end, recognition of her future status quelled them.
I also don't need to be angry. Ivory sat down and said, "Don't ask me about the attack anymore."
"A good tactic." Illenna laughed. "You know, there are many things to the dreamShaper than this."
Ivory perked interest. And Illenna saw this. She smiled. "The things I can do are far more intricate than any of the bladesworn." Her voice took on a smooth contralto. "See?"
She sounds like mother. Ivory noted the soft tones laced with an undertone of mockery and passivity. "The dreamShaper is very intriguing In the manner of things they can achieve."
"Yes, indeed."
Then the silence came. The awkward inevitability after the prior echoed reprimand.
"I suppose that's the end of that." Ivory sat up.
"Perhaps. But before you go, why not have a chat with my son? Saedon." Illenna said, "His anxious to meet you. He worries about your health. Even if you won't tell him the details, your presence would surely elevate whatever worries he has."
As always, she would want her son to breed with and marry me. Ivory thought but nodded.
And then, she saw the vast room snap back—the handmaidens standing where they once were. The width, the height, the exact vastness it was before the enormity.
She likely displayed this in hopes of displacing me with awe. She knows I like the dreamShaper. But I doubt this is true spatial phenomenon. No. That's a thing of the spaceRunner. No, she must have simply made a mirage of vastness and hid the handmaidens in a similar illusion. Not vastness, just the bending of light to seem so.
Ivory dissected it, yet found the awe within her. She is very good as a caster.
I wonder how long I have before nail finds me.
Merrin was solemn; a certain dread, as much as resisted, crawled into his heart. He hadn't been found. Not yet. But in the venture from Gap to the wall tunnels, he had heard more of this…plague. No, he had seen it.
There, a man slept, cooked alive. Froststone, dim from will depletion. No show of resistance. Merrin had grimaced from the sight of it. A rare scene he had once thought common. Why though? Death by burning was a gruesome thing. Ashmen preferred the milder heat, not the raging madness that was pure fire. What pain they must have known in death.
But he realised this was not an unfamiliar sight. He had seen this before—many times. Why didn't he notice? Why didn't he sense the strangeness it admitted? How stupid was he?
For a moment, he pondered the supposed mind that had been admitted to him as a Caster. Many, many secrets and observable facts had been robbed from his procession. Merrin saw himself as a man of heightened perception—even before the snapping. But this—this blunder was a hit to the balance of self. Did overreliance on the gained prowess cloud his thoughts? His own intuition.
He sighed, pushing such thoughts into a side part for later ponderings. Carefully, he scanned the vaster chasm—buildings like short mountains, people numbering around. None saw him. Good. He reached for the ladder, climbing up the stone iron thing.
Why are the Witnesses calling me? The question plagued, pushing any measure of calming rumination. He tried regardless—a hope for returned serenity. It came. Like cloth covering the body, the calm took hold and hid him. Trailing his fingers over the hard surface of misshapen rock, Merrin, in brief regard, saw himself comparing the roughness with the sleek walls seen through the Ardents' eyes.
Concise fear took him. That woman. He thought, She isn't going to start searching for the Ardent, right? The bird said the place was hidden. Was it? Casters. Casters can do this. What if?
The mentation broke as he spotted a figure, slouched, old, standing outside a short cave entryway. Light from a lamp on the wall opposite rayed radiance. Whiteness. He seemed an illusory thing. Merrin recognized him as the slave most eager for him.
I promised him paradise before he dies…A tall order. Merrin hid dismay, smiled shortly, and said, "What's the matter?"
Recognition flashed through the wrinkled face, then reverence. "sunBringer!" he said, voice merry. "You have come to us!"
Merrin sensed fear, halted the imminent frown, and said, "What bothers you?"
The man trembled, a movement seen through the curling of toes. "Something has befallen a youngster."
A child? No. To him, my age is perhaps young. Merrin said, "Who is it?" Stupid, do you even know their names? "Take me," he added quickly.
"As the sun wishes it." He said, turned, and stopped.
This brought a moment of bewilderment. Merrin, in all his mentation, found himself stunned by this. Had he expected to be actually led? The man was old…Stupid.
He was to move when suddenly, the old raspy voice sounded, "Ah, the sun needs a hand." he tapped his shoulder. "Hold."
Merrin smiled and said, "Lead the sun then." With confirmation, he placed hand over the dark old shirt. It felt pinchy—an uncomfortable feeling that quested for what means the old man endured it.
Endurance in familiarity?
The journey was brief, a seemingly split second led by the old man. Silent. Now, he stood before it; the half-length stone crevice, darkness swarmed within. A thing of the mind, he recognized. What would he find there? What happened? The man confessed no revelations. Nothing. No knowledge, no prior warnings.
Don't let them see it. No matter what, always seem…aware.
He stepped in, and the stench of mixed bodies flowed in. Like warm breath into nose, his forehead heated. It took a great measure of strength to repel the trembling and swarting. How odd would it seem if their supposed savior was repulsed by their stench?
Merrin smiled and saw now the congregation gathered in a circle, a high stone in the center. Before it, a woman, young, lay atop the foamy cloth—Ron's. She had closed eyes. And with the traits and sensitivity to sound, Merrin heard a slowness in her breath. A dying dullness.
What? He felt fear at the possibility.
The circle as one turned to him. Some bowed, head pressed over the heated earth. What pain yet they endured. He saw moeash as part of the circle, closer to the high stone that he appeared as an outcrop among them. He too bowed, higher, yes, but still.
Merrin said, "Yes."
"sunBringer." A woman, closer, external to the inner circle said, "Something has happened."
Silence.
She continued. "We don't know. We don't understand. Maybe the sister never intended to free us, and this was their punishment. They give us a plague."
Merrin felt cold.