“Poacher activity is rampant across the Ten Provinces.” Paltro pulls down the map of the country from a shelf behind him. With a long pen, he taps on the border where Aurignan and Holm meet Old Iserine. “Reports of settlement expansion across the country came in.”
I squint for a better view of the map. It’s filled with red crosses. “It seems like they’re preparing for something.”
Paltro rises from his seat, walks around his desk to the low table encased by a warm brown sofa behind me. I stand and watch him pick up a copy ofThe Daily Mage, a national newspaper spreading propaganda likeit’s their only purpose. He raises it up so I can see the headline: “Rafael Grimm: Monster or Misunderstood?”
The increase in poacher settlements makes sense now. For centuries,The Daily Magehas been rewriting history about Grimm, making him out to be some sort of hero and dismissing his crimes. As a result, his followers have been growing in number and becoming bolder. But he is dead, his soul bound for eternity in a Mortemagi relic in our ancestor’s personal vault, which only Lyria and I can access. It’s ironic how Mortemagi don’t even trust themselves to contain a monster they forged.
“Why doesn’t DOTS put a stop toThe Daily Mage’s Grimm propaganda?”
“Money,” Paltro says as he puts on his coat. “The Daily Magepays a hefty sum to DOTS every year to be able to operate in the Ten Provinces. Walk with me.” Paltro holds his office door open, and I follow him outside. Without the distraction of the map and the newspaper, my thoughts drift to Beau again.
“The Grand House has yet to deliver your sentence, Sylas,” he says. We cross the grass and take a left past the empty fountain of a snake with three heads, until we’re under the sheltered walkway that leads to Hollow Tree.
Haal, I had momentarily forgotten about the Grand House.
“Raiek does complicate things,” he adds when I don’t reply. Of course the Imortaliscomplicatesthings. If the Grand House could sentence me to death like they did Beau, I would’ve already been dead. It’s almost comedic how poachers are now emboldened to murder mages right outside of Gorhail walls, and the Grand House’s priority is to discuss me.
“When’s my hearing?”
“Tonight in Riverview,” he says. “They’ve agreed to let you see your brother one last time, because you won’t be allowed to attend his funeral.”
I halt, clenching my fists at my sides. They know how important burial rites are to mages, and yet they won’t let me bury my brother. Instead, my sister will have to stand alone as her aspier’s venom locks our brother’s casket and his body is lowered into the ground.
“Lyria…” I choke up.
“…will be fine,” he reassures me. “A Firstline investigator questioned her, and she was cleared immediately. Not that she didn’t try to take the blame. I’ve sent her home to Iserine for a few days until we settle your case.”
Guilt punches me in the gut. I took so much from my sister, and she’s still trying to defend me.
Hollow Tree is quiet when we walk in. It’s suspicious for this time of day, when mages should be having their afternoon tea. As Paltro and I walk across the expansive circular room, the few people there avert their eyes. Out of fear? Out of shame? I’m unsure. I follow Paltro up the stairs in silence, every step steeling myself to see Beau’s body again.
We take the narrow hallway opposite Dean Rhodes’s office and pass by three portraits of the Deathbringer, her golden eyes looking down on me. Why do we still celebrate her? What does she know of duty? If she hadn’t abandoned all of us, poachers wouldn’t have returned to Bale and killed my father, or my brother.
Our steps slow down. The chapel is on the other side of the large opening overlooking Hollow Tree’s dining hall. I glance down, and the mages below scramble to resume their meals.
When we round the corner to the chapel, four High Guards block the entrance. Paltro holds his hand across my chest, barring me from taking a step forward. Two of the High Guards hurry toward us, black masks covering half their faces. They are high-ranked Firstline mages, tasked with the most dangerous cases. By the way they’re acting, one would think I’m the leader of the poachers.
As they come to a stop in front of me, I peek around them into the chapel.
Beau’s and Victor’s bodies are gone.
My head snaps toward Paltro, but he’s also in shock. Did someone move their bodies? I step around the guards to inquire, but one of them grabs me by the arm. “High Magus Sylas Archyr, you are under arrest for the murders of Beau Cardot and Victor Carver, as well as the abduction of their bodies. You will be tried for coconspiring with poachers.”
My hands begin to sweat, and my muscles stiffen. Beau’sandVictor’s murders? How did the Grand House come to this absurd conclusion? At the commotion, both Raiku and Railesza awaken, their eyes shifting between me and the guards. But there is nothing I can do. Conspiring with poachers means high treason.
And high treason means they will kill me and my aspiers.
Cultivating the blood arts bears the penalty of execution.
Only Firstline Mortemagi are allowed to practice thread magic.
Firstline Arkani are allowed the use of blood arts under extreme circumstances.
DOTS DECREE, 1503
nine | viola
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1939