Queen of Fire

“Yes,” I said. “Fifteen of the oldest books in the Great Library, those I could identify as useful in the small time allowed in his archives.” In truth I had expected some argument from the brother librarian when I made my request, but the man had simply given an affable nod and barked an imperious order at one of his attendants to gather the requisite scrolls from the wagons that served as his movable library. I knew his apparent indifference to this theft was at least partly derived from his gift; he could always simply pen fresh copies, and openly since the need to keep such things hidden had disappeared. The Dark, as they called it, now revealed and discussed openly, the Gifted free to practice their talents without fear of swift torment and execution, at least in theory. I could see the lingering fear on the faces of those not so talented, and the envy, making me wonder if perhaps the wisest course would have been to keep the Gifted in the shadows. But could shadows ever linger in the fires of war?

“You really think he’s in there somewhere?” Al Sorna asked as we walked towards the ship. “The Ally?”

“An influence so malign and powerful is bound to leave traces,” I said. “A historian is a hunter, my lord. Seeking out signs in the undergrowth of correspondence and memoir, tracking prey via the spoor of memory. I don’t expect to find a complete and unbiased history of this thing, be it beast or man or neither. But it will have left traces, and I intend to hunt it down.”

“Then you should have a care, for I suspect it will not be blind to your attentions.”

“Nor yours.” I paused, glancing at his profile, seeing a troubled brow. Where is your certainty? I thought. It had been one of his most aggravating traits during our previous association; the implacable, unshakeable surety. Now there was just a grim and troubled man weighed down by the prospect of trials to come.

“Taking the capital will not be easy,” I said. “The wisest course would be to wait here, gathering strength until the spring.”

“Wisdom and war are rare bedfellows, my lord. And you’re right, the Ally will most likely see it all.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“We cannot simply linger here and wait for the next blow to fall. Any more than your Emperor can expect to remain immune from the Ally’s attentions.”