“I am sure you’ll be just fine,” he said, a sweet attempt at reassurance. “And do keep in mind that even if this trial does not go as you may hope or plan, most are welcome to re-apply for entry to the Studium after a ten-year period.”
I was far from reassured. If I had to wait another ten years for access to the endless font of knowledge that was the Arcane Studium, I would lose my mind. Sure, I could attempt to find my answers elsewhere, but when? Where?How?
I had scoured the city of Elsweire for clues whenever Amaretta and I would take trips and found nothing of import. The libraries of Novos were rumored to rival even Sophrosyne, but that was practically worlds away from me now—a literal separate continent. I simply did not have the means to travel that far, at least not any time soon.
I had to pass this trial. I had to start searching now.
I eyed the glass bottles that were laid out before me with suspicion.
Maybe it’s poison.
I shook the intrusive thought from my head, and selected the vial on the left, turning it over in my palm and awaiting further instructions.
“Any moment now, this orb here will glow, signaling the time for you to enter—ah! And there it is.”
The crystal ball nestled beside a globe and stack of parchment on his desk, which I had presumed to be purely decorative, began to glow with soft, warm light.
“Please go ahead and drink that now, and then you may enter the Hall. Your trial awaits, Arken Asher.”
I carefully uncorked the crystal vial and knocked back its contents as if the liquid was a shot of the whiskey I’d shared on occasion with friends back home. It had a similar burn on the way down my throat, but tasted more… botanical. Herbal, maybe.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Four
Kieran
We released Alistair Corvus on the border of Sophrosyne and Pyrhhas before the break of dawn, mist still blanketing the forest floors of the Wyldwoods as the man stumbled home in shambles. Though our clerics had healed every last physical wound he had sustained during questioning, there was a certain delirium present in his frantic, beady gaze as he looked back, and I knew that I had kept my promise. I broke him.
If only I could bring myself to give a shit.
No man on this plane of existence or the next was ever truly innocent, no hands among us ever truly clean… but this one’s had been particularly filthy. Stained in blood and greed, among other things. Over the course of several hours, quite a few admissions of guilt had slipped past the merchant’s lips,confessing his involvement in the Pyrhhan black markets, the distribution of dangerous and illegal substances, and, most disturbingly—his participation in the flesh trade in recent years.
He’d been a buyer, not a seller, and he swore up and down that hispurchaseshad always been of age. That they had been “willing.”I had my doubts on the latter point, but it was hard to lie about such things with a dagger in your thigh. For that reason he still drew breath, though I knew his freedom would be short-lived. We had recorded every last confession, signed and sealed with the intent to deliver the information to the Pyrhhan Guard by sunrise. Corvus would spend the rest of his pathetic existence behind bars, that much I knew.
Justice served between the territories in Atlas was a tricky thing, particularly when we got involved. Every territory from Samhaven to Pyrhhas operated independently, answering only to their respective Houses. That said, the Atlassian Houses were put in power by those that ruled over Sophrosyne today: The Elders. The gods.
The Elders who would admittedlynotapprove of what I’d done to that man over the last few hours, but I was well-acquainted with operating outside of standard protocol for the Elder Guard. I was also perfectly content to sacrifice what little remained of my own morality, so long as it kept my city safe.
Tonight though…
I had failed. There had been some sort of block placed on Alistair’s mind that had legitimately prevented him from confessing anything related to the Jerricks boy—an unfamiliar sort of arcane bind that even I couldn’t unravel, nor could my blades. Every time we had even come close, the merchant’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets as he screamed bloody murder, and then would promptly lose consciousness. Eventually, we had to relent.
Though I had direct confirmation that he was the last person seen with the missing child, holding Corvus any longer than twenty-four hours would be considered a breach of several treaties, and the last thing I needed was to have Pyrhhan scouts sniffing around our business. They were our allies, and any breach of trust that severe would cost me my position.
Letting him go was still infuriating.
After directing a few of my reports to look into some of the names Corvus had given up in association with hisothercrimes, I returned to my horse and rode back into the city with haste. As the wind whipped around me, a rare voice of self-defense and reason spoke in my mind.
You and your men did all you could with the information you had. It had been a long shot, anyway. The boy’s been gone for weeks.
A more familiar voice bit back.
Doesn’t fucking matter if your best isn’t good enough. His blood is on our hands.
Whose blood, though? The blood of Alistair Corvus? Or the Jerricks boy? That was yet to be determined, I supposed. We hadn’t found a body. The kid could still be out there. As for Alistair’s survival… That wasn’t really my problem anymore.
I focused in on the cadence of my steed’s gallop, numbing my anger and frustration, and by the time I’d arrived at the stables, my failure was properly compartmentalized. I had a solid list of next steps prepared in my head. All of which would have to wait, because if I wanted it done right, I needed to get some semblance of rest first.