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Plants. As in plural. At least there were more.
“Do not think you can steal from another patch,” he said. “I watch all.”
And that would only be possible if... “There’s a magical shield over the plants, and when it’s broken, you appear.”
“Yes.” His eyebrows pinched together, rippling his bald head.
“And you wait in the shadow world.”
“How do you know this?” he demanded.
“I’ve been to the shadow world.”
“Not possible. You are not a Sandseed Story Weaver.”
“I was the Soulfinder.”
“Was?” Confusion gripped his expression. “You cannot undo what is done.”
“I wish that was true, but someone poisoned me with reedwither and now my Soulfinding days are over. That’s why I need a sample so I can take it to my father and have him produce an antidote.”
“Who is your father?”
“Esau Liana Zaltana.” Although I had no idea how his name would help.
“I know this Esau.”
Then again... Hope rose.
“He will not be able to aid you. This plant cannot do what you claim.”
“How can you be so sure? No one has used it on a Soulfinder before.”
“True.” He tucked his weapons into the cloth around his waist. “But I know I have not been called from the shadow world to protect the plant for many years.”
I considered. Some substances remained potent for years. “Did they succeed?”
“No one has since I have been on duty. Before I died, my life threads were woven into the reedwither plant so I could protect it while in the shadow world.”
“How long ago?”
“Back when your father, Esau, was a curious young boy, visiting the plains for the first time. Esau asked so many questions, I thought our elders would send him home early.”
Sounded like my father. A mix of emotions rolled through me. If the poison wasn’t from the reedwither plant, then what had caused my magic to disappear?
The Sandseed moved closer and spread his hands. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“Read the threads of your life.”
“You’re a Story Weaver?”
“Yes.”
Sifting through the logic, I couldn’t think of a reason not to let him. Perhaps a ghost Story Weaver would be able to discover what happened to my magic. “All right. What’s your name?”
“Midnight Son.” He grasped my hand. “There is a...barrier.”
I’d forgotten about the null shields. Releasing his grip, I removed my cloak and pulled the octopus pendant from around my neck, setting it down with care. A cold breeze caressed my skin and I shivered.
Midnight Son took my hand in both of his. Heat enveloped my skin and I panicked for a moment, remembering the Fire Warper. Stupid of me to trust so easily. Midnight Son could be from the fire world. And now I was unprotected.
“You do need to be more careful,” Midnight Son said, holding tight. “You are very vulnerable.” His gaze grew distant. “Your story threads are complex and woven into an intricate pattern.” He chuckled to himself. “No wonder my son struggled at times. And why the elders believed he was the only Story Weaver up to the challenge.”
“Your son?”
“Moon Man.”
I relaxed and wondered why I hadn’t noticed the resemblance. The weapons must have distracted me.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.” My voice squeaked.
“Let us go back.”
With a dizzying swirl of color the Avibian Plains spun around us like sand grains caught in a whirlwind. The daylight turned to night and trees erupted from the ground, turning the flat landscape into a forest.
Movement underneath me jerked to the side as pain pierced my shoulder. I relived the events of the night of the ambush in quick succession. My time with Valek and enduring the hot and cold fever sped by along with the trip to the Magician’s Keep. Everything I’d done and everyone I’d talked to flashed in front of me. A span of blackness arose after Ben’s smug face jumped into view. I flinched as fear pushed me to run and hide, but I had no control over my body or the images.
Midnight Son didn’t release me until we reached the present. I sank to the ground exhausted, which seemed strange since I hadn’t done anything.
“You did all the work,” he said.
Looping the octopus around my neck, I pulled my cloak around my shoulders. The air had turned icy. So much for this being the last day of the cold season.
“Then what did you do?” I asked.
“I watched and learned.”
I clutched the fabric of my cloak tight. “And?”
“It confirmed that the reedwither plant is not the culprit.”
Another dead end.
“It also confirmed that you did not die.”
“What?”
“You are the Soulfinder. You have the ability to bring a person back to life by healing the body and returning the person’s soul. You could have kept your soul inside your body after i
t died, then healed yourself.”
I’d returned two souls—Stono’s and Gelsi’s. Both killed themselves within a year of being saved, and I’d vowed never to do it again. Good to know that, in my panic, I hadn’t reanimated myself. A shudder ripped through me.
“If I had done that, would that have caused my problem?” Stono hadn’t had magic, but Gelsi had. However, I couldn’t remember if she’d still had access to her powers after I brought her back to life.
“That is an interesting question.”
“And do you have an interesting answer?”
“No. But it does not matter.” His eyes gleamed.
Energized, I shot to my feet. “Do you know what happened to my magic?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It is blocked.”
“Like a null shield?”
“No.”
Frustration rose and I tightened my grip on my cloak’s rough fabric until my fingernails pressed into my palms. I drew in a calming breath. If Moon Man had learned how to be cryptic and annoying from his father, I needed to choose my words with care. “How is my magic blocked?”
“It just is.”
I clamped down on a growl. “You said it was unlike a null shield. Can you explain?”
“A null shield blocks magic from both directions, while this only prevents you from using magic. However, you are vulnerable to magic. For now.”
Old news. “What is ‘this’? A poison? Magic? A virus? A one-way null shield?”
He didn’t respond.
I searched his expression. “You don’t know!”
No reaction.
Groaning, I plopped back onto the ground, lying back with my arm over my eyes. “You’re not going to tell me. Are you?” My throat closed as a hot pressure built. Sheer force of will kept tears from spilling.
“I can tell you this.”
I peeked at him.
“You will figure this out, Soulfinder.”
“When?”
“When the time is right.”
Midnight Son sounded just like Moon Man.
“Did you teach your son how to be cryptic or is it an inborn trait for Story Weavers?” I asked.
“Inborn. We guide, but we do not provide easy answers.”
