24th July, 309

  I am honoured, Renna, to be your daughter’s tutor. It is a shame you must leave for war. In your stead, I will do my part to make Ashamel the most competent ascender she can be.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  3rd August, 309

  Ashamel and I have not had the most promising beginning. It seems I misjudged how much she already knew. It may take some time before we make significant progress. I know this may disappoint you, but I remain optimistic that she will catch up quickly.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  27th December, 309

  I had hoped to send you a Christmas gift in the form of good news. Alas, these have been the longest five months of my life. Not only does Ashamel forget everything I teach her, she shows no desire to re-learn. Her attitude is, frankly, reprehensible. This is well beyond the scope of our lessons. I aim to find the root of her problem before we continue.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  19th April, 310

  Renna Sorel, I am beginning to doubt my ability as a teacher. It may be time to seek another tutor.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  20th September, 310

  I report this to you before others do, for the sake of our long-standing friendship. I brought in a steward from the Church to help teach Ashamel the workings of ascension and its bond with the Six. After three months, I was forced to turn him away. He had become far too friendly with your daughter. Please, do not leave the Midder-Lands for this. I have already taken the necessary action.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  6th May, 311

  Ashamel avoids me. I have tried every method I can think of—unconventional or otherwise—and sought advice from many. Nothing works. I believe it is time I retired.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  27th June, 311

  Renna Sorel, I cannot express how embarrassed I am to write you this. In your last letter, you asked me not to retire so soon, and I have decided to heed you. However, I am leaving for a long rest in Yuna and will return at year’s end. When I do, I believe I shall have the strength to start with Ashamel anew. There are no bad students. I will find a way.

  Yours truly,

  Kalin Vicious.

  Schemel tossed the letters onto the carpet and pulled out some of her old university books. From time to time, she tilted her ear toward the telephone on her desk, waiting for it to ring. Erisa and Regilon should have been back at Camp Regis by now. The only reason she hadn’t gone there to meet them was that she didn’t want to jinx the operation. Too often, overexcitement led to disappointment.

  A knock came at the door. It opened, and a head peered in. “Savage,” she called. “What’s the matter?”

  “Your mother’s home.”

  Schemel dropped her pamphlet and sighed. She stepped out to meet Helen as she walked in. Helen wore a business suit and a short black wig. She slipped off her heels as she glided past Schemel and Savage, rolling her eyes at her daughter.

  “I don’t like what you’re doing, Schemel. I don’t like it at all,” Helen said, striding toward the living room, where Schemel’s guests were still waiting. “Who do you think these people are, treating them like this?”

  The Goodmans rose at once, bowing when Helen entered. The girl who wanted to be called Ashey sat beside them, playing with her fingers, oblivious to her grandmother’s arrival.

  “Lady Sorel,” the Goodmans greeted.

  “How long has Schemel kept you waiting?” Helen asked.

  The parents exchanged uneasy looks, scrambling for an answer. “Not long at all,” the father said. “This is our first time visiting the estate. Trust me, we’d spend all night here if we had to.”

  With all the seats taken, Schemel waited for the two children to stand and offer theirs. The brats only stared until Schemel patted Ashey on the back of her head. The girl stood so her mother could sit.

  “Dana, I never got the chance to thank you for that excellent buffet. You saved the New Year’s party.” Helen turned to Schemel. “Dana here makes the most delicious pastries—the stuff of daydreams, I tell you.”

  “I have you to thank for the opportunity, Lady Sorel,” Dana replied. “Since that day, my orders have increased tenfold.”

  “It’s about time you started expanding,” Helen said. “You should open a second branch outside the capital. Consider somewhere near the coast. I can make life easier for you there.”

  “I’ve been telling her forever,” her husband added. “We’ve been scouting property in Jafter—”

  Dana placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Demis,” she whispered. “Not here.”

  Demis leaned closer and whispered back, “When else do we tell her?”

  “Tell me what?” asked Helen.

  Demis gently brushed his wife’s hand off his arm and sat up straighter. “As much as I’d rather not bring it up now, the situation is dire enough that I must. Rose is giving me trouble with the land in Jafter.”

  “That greedy buffoon never knows when to keep his fat fingers to himself,” Helen slurred. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Excuse me,” Schemel cut in. “I think it would be better if we turned our attention to why I invited you here.”

  The father looked Pence’s way as if he had only just realised his son was there. Dana quickly said, “We are very sorry, Renna. We shouldn’t have let ourselves get carried away like that.”

  “Does that happen often?” asked Schemel. “You leave your boy alone too long and he does whatever he wants.”

  “Be straightforward, Schemel. Your guests don’t have all night,” said Helen. “My daughter caught your son and Ashey sleeping together. Isn’t that what this is about?”

  “Yes, and I’m concerned by your indifference to the matter,” said Schemel. “And why are you two sitting there as if you barely heard what my mother said? Your son is a fornicator, for God’s sake.”

  The poor parents were still in shock, struggling to understand how they had gone so wrong with their son. Schemel could sympathize; when Kalin sent her those letters all those years ago, she too hadn’t known how to react to Ashey’s behaviour.

  Dana smiled faintly but kept silent, leaving it to her husband to speak. Demis glanced at Pence and said, “We are aware, Renna.”

  “You are aware of what?”

  “This is not the first time,” Demis clarified. “Pence told his mother he would spend some time with your daughter after school today. We expected something like this to happen.”

  “I understand,” said Schemel. “This is a plot to ruin my family.”

  “Renna, no!” cried Dana.

  “We would never do such a thing,” said her husband.

  Helen rolled her eyes, saying nothing.

  “You encouraged Pence to come here, defile my daughter, impregnate her, and then claim my grandfather’s fortune through an ill-born child.”

  “Pence didn’t even want to come,” blurted Ashey. “I made him.”

  “Pence, tell Renna what happened,” said his mother.

  “Renna, I understand how this looks,” said Demis. “Five years ago, I might have thought the same. But that is not the case for Dana and me anymore, and I’m sure Lady Sorel can agree. Pence and Ashey have reached an age where it’s natural for them to want to… know themselves better. We shouldn’t shame them into chastity. All we can do is advise them to be smart about it.”

  “We didn’t even have sex,” mumbled Ashey. “We were going to… eventually, but we didn’t.”

  “Zip it,” snapped Schemel.

  “Please consider what my husband is saying, Renna,” Dana said. “We learned this from a seminar held at their school.”

  “What school?” asked Schemel. “Helen, what school is Ashamel attending?”

  “Glen Jacobs,” said Dana, Demis, and Helen at once.

  “It’s on the mainland, in Henrik City,” Helen added. “It’s a very good school.”

  “Jacobs sounds English. Don’t tell me it’s a Sodenite school.”

  “It is.”

  “You monster! What is wrong with you?”

  “Here she comes again, always making a scene. I once followed tradition, and look what I ended up with: you. I am not making the same mistake with Ashey.”

  “Her name is Ashamel—damn you! And she is my daughter. You have gone out of your way to imbibe her in … a heathenistic culture. It’s no wonder I cannot win the Midder-Lands. Why would God honour us with new lands when his Holy Land is laden with filth?”

  “Is it all the better for us to forbid our children from having sexual relations?” asked Demis. “They’re determined to do it regardless of what we say, Renna. Wouldn’t it be better to regulate them instead? Teenage pregnancies, STDs, we don’t want to deal with those things anymore.”

  Schemel was sure they were fine cooking babies. Only a Sodenite could rationalise such a thing. The demons. “Let them explore and figure things out,” Dana said. “They’ll soon realise that there’s more to life than sex.”

  “Let me get this straight,” said Schemel. “I should sit back and allow my daughter to become your son’s sperm depository.”

  Dana stammered, begging her husband to take over. Demis was busy brushing his wet hair away from his face.

  “When you enrolled in that school, what did they have to say about the emotional repercussions of this kind of lifestyle? How about their academics? I don’t expect them to say anything about how much it weakens them spiritually. My daughter is only twelve—”

  “I’m fourteen, Mom,” Ashey said.

  “Shut it,” Schemel snapped. “Instead of letting our children run around mounting each other like animals, why don’t you engage them in other ways? Put their energy to good use. The army is always ready to recruit. Ren Savage would be glad to see Pence serve.”

  “No,” Dana and Demis both said so quickly that it offended Schemel. She did not speak for a while, trying to maintain the level at which she breathed. Helen, who had gone quiet, seemed as though she wanted to speak, but saved her breath, forcing smiles at the guests.

  “Do you know what comes after the sanctity of sex is taken away?” asked Schemel. “Marriage breaks down. No marriage, no family. No family, no society. No society, no government. And without a government, we don’t have Henrikia. That is how the Sodenites beat us, and I would be speaking to Demettle to see what we can do about these foreigners polluting our children.”

  “Renna,” Savage’s voice cut in from the entrance.

  “What is it?” asked Schemel.

  He was hesitant to say in front of the guests and her mother until Schemel gave him permission to speak freely. “You were right to be concerned about the operation. Sodenite militia reached Blackwood before we could.”

  “And the situation now?”

  “Resolved.”

  “Good.”

  Her guests and Helen switched from Savage to Schemel, as if she owed them some kind of explanation. “The Sodenites are not our friends,” murmured Schemel. She pulled herself out of the couch, drawing the visit to a close.

  The Goodmans stood as well, smaller than when they had first arrived. Still, Schemel had to make herself clear. “Your son is no longer allowed anywhere near Ashamel. He can mount anything he wants, but he keeps away from her.”

  “Yes, Renna,” Demis and Dana said together.

  “Renna Sorel,” Savage called. “Your vehicle is waiting outside.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be with you soon.”

  Schemel found Ashey on the couch again, red in the cheeks, staring hard at her fingernails as if polishing away an invisible smudge. She didn’t dare look up at Pence as he left with his parents.

  “Ashamel,” Schemel called, and it took a long moment for her daughter’s chin to rise.

  “Yes, Mom,” Ashey said, voice rough.

  “You’re no longer attending that school. You’re returning to Se Fina, and you’ll take your training seriously. There is no life for a Sorel other than becoming a Gaverian. Anything less is unacceptable.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” Helen said, her voice quiet and still. Once, Schemel had feared that voice. But her mother was old now, living only on Schemel’s benevolence. “We have tried your way for many years. The girl can’t craft to save her life. Let her choose what she wants.”

  “She’s terrible at everything!” Schemel snapped. “I’d rather she be a terrible magician than a burden to society.”

  “Don’t you care about what makes her happy?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “If eating dirt makes her happy, should I let her do it? No!”

  “I’ll go,” Ashey said.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Helen urged. “You don’t want to go back to that horrible place. Don’t let your mother scare you into doing something you hate.”

  “I’ll go back to Se Fina,” Ashey said. “I’ll try to become a Gaverian.”

  “You will become a Gaverian,” Schemel said.

  Camp Regis was chaos when Schemel arrived. Soldiers clustered around the entrance to the House of Sentry, the administrative block of the Henrikian Army.

  Savage led her through the crowded lobby, but the noise swallowed her voice. “Is Regilon around?” she asked. He didn’t hear. With a gesture, he steered her deeper, toward the basement.

  They crossed the public bathhouse. Cleaners chatted in snappy English until they noticed her. One of them pulled damp clothes from the wall into a plastic bag. Schemel lingered, sniffing the air. Magic. It had a waxy tang, like scented candles. Odd for a crafter—crafters usually smelled of iron, coal, or smoke.

  The cleaners stared, unsure why the High Commander loitered by them. Puddles of black dirt swirled toward the drain. “The earthen boy bathed here,” Schemel said in English.

  “The dossi speak Kirisi well enough, Renna,” Savage muttered. “No need to confuse them.”

  “I’m practising,” she replied. “The earthen needs to feel comfortable around me. What better way than to share a tongue?”

  Around the last bend, the connection sparked—her heart swore something wonderful was coming. Erisa waited with a Green Officer by a steel door. Behind it, the boy.

  Schemel approached. “What’s he like?”

  “He’s quiet,” Erisa said.

  The waxy smell thickened, clinging to the tongue. Schemel waved it off and cracked the door, but stayed behind it. The room was dark. Too dark. One step in, and Savage’s hand twitched toward his pistol.

  “Put that away,” she ordered, eyes adjusting. No violence here.

  She saw them then—two golden-brown glimmers, soft, delicate. The boy sat in the corner, knees drawn tight to his chest, barefoot in a plain grey sweater and pants.

  She drew closer, stopping when he flinched. He was several shades darker than her, with short black hair dripping from his recent bath. His jawline was round, his ears big and clear. Her heart tugged.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  He folded in on himself, holding his breath, counting seconds on his lips. Despite the heat radiating from him, he shivered. At last, he forced himself to look up. Schemel crouched, giving him level ground.

  “I’ll be fourteen in July,” he whispered.

  “Fourteen,” she whispered back. “I have a daughter that’s fourteen.”

  He glanced at her, curiosity flickering, then retreated into himself again. He pinched his nose.

  “Please, don’t cry,” she said. “You’re an ascender now. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  “I want to…” His voice broke. “I want to go home.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t. Not yet. We have to help you get better first.”

  His neck jerked from side to side. He was trying to shake his head. “You can’t hold your breath forever,” she said softly. “The quicker you learn to breathe, the less you suffer.”

  “How?”

  “Use your mind’s eye. You’ll hear that a lot from now on. Imagine a river flowing through canals—steady, endless. Keep that image. Focus on it.”

  She watched as he tried. His trembling eased. His breath steadied. Wide brown eyes opened.

  “I’m not burning anymore,” he croaked.

  “See? You’re a natural.”

  He almost spoke, then smiled shyly, hiding his face. “There’s much more I’d like to teach you,” Schemel said. “But until I’m sure you’re no danger to yourself or anyone else, I can’t let you go home. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Renna,” he murmured.

  Schemel rose, taking one last look at the boy huddled in the corner. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this,” she said. “I’ll get you out as soon as I can.”

  Out in the hallway, she ordered Savage to summon the Assembly Council Representative to Camp Regis immediately. Proof of her discovery before the seven-hour deadline was crucial.

  Click, clack, click, clack— the keyboards in the offices rattled. Secretaries typed emails, summoning all Assembly members to an emergency meeting that evening. Schemel stood at the centre of the office floor, hands behind her back, watching.

  “I want every news network talking about this,” she said. “Rumours may already be spreading. Good. Let them spread faster. Tell them we have an earthen ascender in custody.”

  “Yes, Renna,” said one secretary, pulling a telephone closer and dialling.

  “And send out the recordings from Blackwood,” Schemel added. “Get them to the public.”

  “Renna—” Savage began, stepping into the office, striding toward her.

  “What is it?”

  “Renna—” A secretary rushed forward, her feet snagging on tangled cables. She thrust out a telephone. “You have a call from the Primus’ office.”

  “Who?” Schemel asked, taking it.

  “The Chancellor.”

  Demettle’s voice cracked through the line. “What in God’s name—”

  Schemel hung up mid-sentence and waved the secretary away, turning back to Savage. Her dismissal of the Chancellor left him rattled enough to forget his message for a moment.

  Finally, he managed, “Ren Prudence is on his way.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Ren Prudence, the Assembly Council Representative, arrived at the House of Sentry. He confined himself to his role as intermediary between the Assembly and other arms of government.

  Together, he and Schemel entered the holding room. Prudence saw the earthen ascender with his own eyes. He would testify on her behalf at the Assembly Hall: she had found her ascender.

  But on their way out, he said, “You have only an hour left before the deadline ends, Renna. I’m afraid you’ve found your ascender a little too late.”

  “And why is that, exactly?” Schemel asked.

  “In delicate situations like these, I’m afraid the Assembly might dismiss my support,” Prudence said. “What’s to stop them from claiming I was bribed, that the ascender arrived later than we say?”

  “I have hundreds of witnesses. The media already know.” Schemel halted, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Did Demettle get to you? Did he ask you to look the other way? He knows I’ve found an ascender. Throw dust into the council’s eyes and you may lose yours in kind. I’ve sacrificed too much to give up now.”

  His face stayed bland, but his pulse betrayed him. Schemel could hear the quick stutter of his heart. Non-ascenders loved to feign calm when their minds were splintering apart.

  Prudence glanced at his watch. “Forty-one minutes until midnight. The church bells will soon ring. There’s no realistic way to summon every councilman, let alone hold a session to certify your ascender.”

  “Lucky for us, I already summoned them myself,” Schemel said. “Thirty-three are seated as we speak, waiting for you to make my announcement official.”

  “We need at least two-thirds of the Assembly before we can begin.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” she said. “Everyone will be there — including us.”

  A problem waited outside. Prudence’s driver, assistant, and guards were gone. “Less than two hours until the bells,” he said. “I have a tradition: my employees must break early on the eve of any sacred day. They left to find the nearest church for worship. Which means, High Commander, I cannot accompany you to the Hall. I will not travel without my driver or my security. We’ll have to wait until the twenty-second of May for the Assembly to meet.”

  Tomorrow was one of the marked days on the calendar when a god would be honoured. They called them Sacred Days — holy days for rest and spiritual enlightenment.

  “I understand it would be well past your deadline by then,” Prudence went on, “but what can you do?”

  Schemel clamped a hand on his shoulder, steering him into his car and pinning him to the seat. Sliding in beside him, she peered through the window and signalled for her men to find his driver at the church. An officer returned with the car keys and took the wheel. Savage joined him in the front, and the engine rumbled to life.

  “Ren Prudence, I am offended you could not think me kind enough to lend my own staff to your aid,” she said as the car jostled over rough patches in the road. “I am grateful for the chance to prove my generosity.” His teeth rattled too much for him to answer.

  The Ring was hot and ready when they arrived. Her officer sped through, and they landed in the middle of Henrik City. And what a sight it was.

  Altar boys from the Church of Rheina prowled the streets, carrying lanterns and whips, their red robes belted with white bags. Two moved slowly along a sidewalk, peering into windows. On the upper floor of an apartment, three of them rushed toward a room with its lights still on. Their whips lengthened in their hands as they waited by the door. One knocked. At once, the resident switched off his lights and the television.

  “Come out,” one altar boy ordered. “If you don’t, we’ll leave a mark on your door.”

  A bare-chested, middle-aged man stepped out, stammering that he had overslept. The altar boys brushed past him, tore the cables from his television, then dug into their bags and set candles in his window, chanting to the gods on the man’s behalf.

  “If you don’t come to church, the least you can do is be reverent,” another said as they left.

  “I will,” the man promised, relieved they hadn’t smashed his television altogether.

  A young couple hurried hand in hand down a narrow street, heads bowed. Three altar boys stood waiting under a streetlamp. The man and his date passed beneath them, and Schemel braced for the crack of whips. But none came. The boys let them go.

  Across the street, a pub owner wasn’t so fortunate. A pack of altar boys stormed inside, lashing at customers. Patrons clutched their backs as they fled into traffic. The sharp smell of alcohol drifted out, and Schemel knew it would enrage them further. In Hexism, drinking was a sin, though secular pubs still served the poison—another stain of foreign influence. Bottles shattered against doors, salt scattered across the floor in holy fury.

  Traffic soon snarled to a halt, much to Prudence’s satisfaction. Altar boys formed a barricade at the next intersection, demanding to know each driver’s destination.

  “Get someone to clear the road,” Schemel told Savage, who was halfway to answering a call.

  He handed her the phone before stepping out to deal with it.

  “Hello?” Schemel said.

  “Renna.” Leonard. Unsurprising.

  “You’ve heard the news,” she replied. “I was wondering when you might call to take credit for the earthen boy. You’ve done well, Doctor. Very well.”

  Prudence rolled his eyes.

  “I can’t decide whether this is real or just a dream,” he said.

  “It’s science,” she replied. “The only thing more remarkable than magic.”

  “No, Schemel, you don’t understand.” Almost to himself, he murmured, “How do I even tell you this?”

  His background was a storm of noise — cars speeding past, horns blaring, altar boys shouting at drivers.

  “I can’t hear you properly,” she said. “Where are you?”

  “Pel, near the Ring. I was on my way to meet you at the Hall, but my driver refused to take me anywhere other than the church. I got down, and he drove off.”

  Pel lay just ahead, so no detour was needed to collect the doctor. She told her driver to pick him up. In person, he might explain himself better. A man who had studied bio-ascension all his life was bound to have some insight into why an earthen ascender was alive and breathing in her basement.

  Savage had the road cleared, and the car sped on. The time was five past eleven. Soon enough, Leonard sat in the back seat with Schemel and Prudence. Sweat soaked his collar; his top buttons hung loose.

  “I suspect you know more about the earthen ascender than I do,” Schemel said. “Tell me.”

  Leonard stared into space, unblinking. Then, suddenly, he snapped, “Of course. Yes, yes, yes — the earthen ascender will fight for the High Commander as planned.” His laughter followed, thin and jagged with pain.

  “Renna,” the driver called.

  “It’s Mistress Sorel, Renna,” added Savage. “She’s standing by the road with her thumb out. Looks very upset.”

  Mariel hugged herself when the car stopped beside her, furious at someone unseen. The driver rolled down the window on Prudence’s side, and Schemel leaned across the official.

  “Mariel, what’s the matter?”

  “My idiot driver said it was either we turn back for Sacred Service or he drops me here.”

  The Assembly Hall was just beyond the trees. She could have walked.

  “What business do you have at the Hall?” Schemel asked. “This meeting has nothing to do with you.”

  “It has everything to do with me,” Mariel snapped. “What makes you think I wouldn’t care that Leonard was testing drugs on earthens after I told him not to? And stop hiding, doctor—I know it’s you. The Assembly will flay the skin off your back today.”

  “Well, we’ll meet you there at the Hall,” Schemel said.

  “Wait—you can’t leave me here.”

  “There’s no space in the car,” Schemel replied. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Cram.”

  Mariel pressed against one door, Leonard against the other, Prudence and Schemel wedged miserably between. Fortunately, the drive was short.

  At the gates, another obstacle awaited. A hundred altar boys had locked arms across the entrance, chanting their hymns while councilmen leaned on their horns in vain.

  Prudence snorted, smug, as if Schemel’s enemies had already triumphed. For a minute the car sat in tense silence, the chanting and honking grinding against each other. Savage sighed and reached for the handle, ready to intervene—

  But Schemel forced the back door open first. She stepped out, pulling Leonard with her.

  “Renna,” Savage called. “What do you intend to do? These men are untouchable.”

  “No one is untouchable,” Schemel muttered, striding past the gridlocked cars to face the wall of boys.

  “There are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year,” the altar boy at the front cried. “We reserve six for our gods. Do not lose your way, leaders of this country. We are not your enemy. Please—come to church. Worship Samos tonight, and you can have the rest of the month for your affairs!”

  “This is our church,” Schemel answered. “We worship God by serving this country. If you go against us, you go against your own nation. Unless you want to be arrested for treason, you’d best step aside.”

  Only one High Commander in history had ever threatened the Church of Rheina—Regis Regal, a madman. The altar boys remembered that story, and they remembered what power Schemel held. Their chanting faltered, chains slackened, and slowly the blockade broke. The songs died, and the boys dispersed from the Hall’s gates.

  It was no true victory. Schemel already regretted the threat, but the Midder-Lands mattered more to her than currying favour with the Church.

  “The High Priest will hear of this, High Commander,” a lanky altar boy muttered as he passed.

  Engines flared back to life. The waiting councilmen drove through the cleared gates into the Hall’s compound. Out of a hundred, seventy had shown up—well beyond the two-thirds required. Despite the hurdles, Schemel had what she needed: a concession.

  Prudence stood before the council, and under the weight of God’s name, he testified. He had seen the earthen ascender with his own eyes. Schemel had beaten the seven-hour deadline. But her night at the Hall was far from over. As Savage had warned, her enemies would try anything.

  Demettle was first. He descended from the upper balcony, cane tapping against the marble floor with every step. His voice boomed across the chamber:

  “Councilmen, fellow members of the Primus, High Commander. Tonight, we may have witnessed the bloodiest chapter of our history. Our High Commander has conspired with the Green Guard and their Gaverian masters to terrorise a small community. She captured children and delivered them to the I.A.A., where she and Doctor Leonard experimented on them. Yes, experimented—on children. And then let them crawl back to their homes like discarded rats.

  “Foreign militia struck Blackwood tonight because they wanted these so-called earthen ascenders. Under the High Commander’s orders, Erisa Zeal ignored the hostages held by those raiders. The villagers suffered for it. One casualty already, countless more yet to come.

  “I ask you, my countrymen—” He raised his stick, the marble echoing. “Is Renna Sorel the kind of leader we need?”

  “Yes,” said Schemel, leaning into the microphone. “I saw the opportunity, and I took it. Tell me, why has Soden not issued a single statement about what happened in Blackwood? Why the silence?”

  “Why would they?” Demettle countered. “For all we know, they’re already running to the West, crying misconduct. An ascender attacked non-ascenders in an illegal conflict—that’s all it would take for the Yunnish Court to sanction us into the grave. Do you truly believe this is the time to fight for the Midder-Lands? Councilmen, think.”

  “With all due respect, Chancellor, there’s no room for fear-mongering. Look at the bigger picture. You demanded the war end and gave me an impossible ultimatum. Yet here I stand with the very thing you swore I could not find. Who but God could twist fate this way? To me, it speaks of only one thing: victory will be ours.”

  Applause broke out, filling the chamber, but Schemel raised her hand for silence.

  “The Chancellor has twisted events to make me appear reckless. First: there were no casualties in Blackwood tonight. Every villager is alive and safe. If anything, they are thanking us for driving out the terrorists. Second: Doctor Aureate did not abduct anyone’s children for experiments.”

  The chamber turned to Leonard, who had sat quietly until now. Sweat beaded down his brow as he stood, pressing a handkerchief to his face. “Sorel is right,” he said hoarsely.

  “Which Sorel, Doctor?” asked Ren Prudence.

  “Renna Sorel,” Leonard said. “The earthen child came to me willingly. I explained the risks. He consented. I gave him a single dose of ascension.”

  Gasps rippled across the room.

  “That,” Mariel snapped, “is a violation of both law and principle. After I address the I.A.A. committee tomorrow, Doctor, you can consider yourself unemployed.”

  No one replied. The chamber plunged into order. A vote was called. One by one, the councilmen cast their decisions—on whether Henrikia should continue its war for the Midder-Lands.

  The tally came down: sixty votes in favour, six against, four neutral.

  GONG… GONG… GONG… GONG...

  Midnight.

  The Sacred Day of Samos had arrived. Anyone not in church or at home would now be at the mercy of the priests. The Assembly Hall went dark as every light shut off. From the distance came the hollow crackle of megaphones, carrying the priests’ incantations over the city. Councilmen muttered and fumbled their way out, old hands sliding across the marble walls.

  Schemel remained behind in the guest chamber. Leonard sat close, restless, as if he would burst if he could not speak. But others were still near. Demettle sat not far from them, head bowed against his stick, drifting in and out of sleep.

  “Lord Deus,” Schemel said.

  “High Commander,” Demettle rasped, lifting his head. “Have you not had enough for one night?”

  “We are all exhausted,” she said. “Your driver must be waiting.”

  He smothered a yawn. “Before I go, might you indulge me with your plans for the boy? The one thing we’ve all ignored.”

  “He will train at Se Fina, just like Ashamel. In fact, this is a good time to ask you—let your grandson join them.”

  “I wish Hamis could,” Demettle said with a tired shrug. “But Sirios won’t have it. He keeps me from the children. He fears the life of a Gaverian, you know how he is.”

  “Then persuade him,” Schemel said, firm. “I would hate to see Hamis’ potential wasted.”

  Demettle pushed himself up with effort, leaning on his stick. A faint smile cracked his face. “I will try. Henrikia.”

  “Henrikia,” she returned, saluting.

  When the last of the councilmen had gone, only Leonard and Schemel remained in the darkened hall. The silence pressed in until Schemel finally broke it. “When you were at the podium,” she said slowly, “you claimed the earthen came to you willingly. The more I think about it, the less I believe it was a lie.”

  “I’ll be out of a job by tomorrow either way,” Leonard muttered. “It doesn’t matter if its true or not.”

  “What are you hiding, Leonard?”

  “You’d call me mad.”

  “I’ll decide what’s impossible and what isn’t.”

  “There were two boys that day,” he said at last. “I was about to turn them away… and then I thought I’d have a little fun.”

  “No one calls it fun to inject a child with a lethal drug.”

  “Exactly.”

  Her breath caught. “What did you inject them with?”

  “Synase,” he said. “Harmless. It just makes you drowsy for a few hours.”

  “But… I saw him,” she whispered. She leaned closer. “He’s real.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He has magic, Leonard. Real magic. Where did it come from? How?”

  “Someone did something to him,” Leonard said, shaking his head. “But it wasn’t me.”