It took some creative balancing of boxes atop other boxes—and more muscle than she was accustomed to expending—to free the chest.It, too, was locked and sealed.Through the loupe, a knot of power clung to the leather latch.She could not fit her entire body into the chest, and there was no way to slip just one hand in, grasp what she sought, and pull it out.The same magic that made it possible to walk through a wall made it impossible to grab anything on the other side until the spell had ended—at which point, it was vital that every part of one’s body was no longer inside any solid object.She could untangle the knot, but it would take time, and Afanan might return to the wagon at any moment.
Fola glanced over her shoulder.She was still alone.If she kept a keen ear open for Frog’s warning call, she could hide or slip out of the wagon before anyone caught her.Probably.It was impossible, after all, to say for certain what another sorceress, wielding unfamiliar magic, could and could not do.
The wise thing would have been to put things back as she had found them, retreat for now, and return later—maybe during the troupe’s next performance, if they held one.Four years was a very long time in the wider world.What was one day more?
Well… it was one more day.And the troupe might decide to cut and run.She had just given them more money than they’d hoped to earn here, and the horrors of the previous night would draw unwanted attention.
She opened her pad of spellpaper and began to write.
‘I thought to find you here,’ Afanan said.
Fola whirled to face the door, her blistered right hand and her staff raised and ready.Afanan stood in the doorway, which had somehow opened silently, and showed her empty palms.
‘Frankly, I couldn’t imagine who else might have slipped my first line of wards,’ Afanan went on, as though Fola were not threatening her.‘We have a great deal more to say to each other, I think.Things it may be easier to say without Llewyn and Siwan to hear.’
Despite Afanan’s innocuous posture, Fola’s defences were high.This trouper sorceress—who already claimed some knowledge of the City—had sneaked past Frog, somehow.If she wanted to kill Fola—toreallyandpermanentlykill her, to guard Siwan’s secret and prevent Fola from spreading it after reincarnation—the first step would be to kill her bird.
With a squawk, Frog fluttered down from the lintel of the wagon and landed on Afanan’s shoulder.Which was, in some ways, more troubling than the thought that he was dead.
‘What did you do to him?’Fola demanded, jabbing her staff at her own bird, who had snuggled against Afanan’s neck.Afanan reached up and scratched the back of his head.
‘Nothing,’ she said.‘Was he meant to alert you?He is an odd one, isn’t he?Not like Tan’s at all.He had a hawk.Regal bird, but standoffish.This one just seems to want affection.’
Fola felt suddenly dizzy.‘Tan?Tan Semn?’Rumours and legends of the renowned archivist swirled through the City and formed a constant undercurrent beneath the activity of the Library.No one had travelled further, found more, and returned with greater discoveries.One tale told that Tan Semn had struck up a friendship with the Hierophant of Goll in an effort to fold that near neighbour into the City’s political life.If there was anyone who was Fola’s opposite—revered where she faced derision, welcomed where she was shunned, accomplished where she was a failure—it was Tan Semn.
‘You know him?’Afanan said.‘He is the man from the City that I spoke of earlier.We met in Alberon some thirty years ago.He never made it as far as Parwys, I don’t think.’She looked past Fola to the uncovered chest.‘The distant past, though it lingers into the present and may be worth speaking of later.For now, I would like to know how you foundthat.’
‘All magic leaves a trace,’ Fola said, still stunned.Afanan refused to go to the City with no less an archivist than Tan Semn.Why think I could be any more convincing?‘I’m surprised Tan Semn never taught you to read them.’
‘He tried to teach me some of his magic, but I was not much of a sorceress then,’ Afanan said.‘I would appreciate your help in covering those traces.To protect the girl.’
‘If I am to do that, I will need to know what she is,’ Fola countered.
‘Ah.’Afanan smiled gently.‘Which is why I find you here.You might have simply asked.Do you have a difficult time trusting people, Fola?You and Llewyn have that in common.’
Fola’s difficulty was more withbeingtrusted than with trusting, though admitting as much did not seem like an effective way to win someone over.‘What’s in the crate?’she asked.‘And what does it have to do with Siwan?’
Afanan considered for a moment, scratching Frog’s chest feathers while the bird cooed.She tucked her hand into her sleeve.There was a crack of breaking stone.
‘Open it,’ Afanan said.‘See for yourself.’
The knot of magic had vanished.Fola undid the latch and eased the lid upwards.Velvet pillows lined the chest, nestling a black gemstone.An inner light, red as blood, pulsed at its heart.Fola examined it through the loupe and shivered: a riotous mass of limbs and claws, yellow eyes and teeth.
‘You recognise it, yes?’Afanan said.‘The very same fiend that clings to Siwan’s soul.The Branellyl of Nyth Fran.Bound to an altar stone in ancient days—by the fae or the First Folk, one cannot know.The people there worshipped it as a god.They sacrificed their children to it.In exchange, it protected them and gave them a measure of power.’
‘And Siwan was one such sacrifice,’ Fola surmised.
‘She was,’ Afanan said.‘Until Llewyn and I saved her.We trapped half the fiend in that gem, but it had already begun to possess her, and the greater half remains entwined with her soul.This was years ago.But the pain of that moment follows her, and the power it knitted into her soul is more than she can master yet.’
‘And it is not the only power she carries,’ Fola observed.She tucked her loupe away.‘The fiend is bound by fae magic.And are all raven fiends able to summon up the ancient dead?’
‘I wove the lattice, but its power was Llewyn’s.’Afanan shook her head.‘Even after years, he cannot explain it to me.I don’t think he understands it himself, beyond intuition.He had a patroness—or a slavemaster, more accurately.The power he used was her gift, granted to him to wield in ignorance.It does not behoove the powerful to give away their secrets, after all.’
‘And yet here we are,’ Fola said.
Afanan laughed at that.‘It seems only fair, as I knew your secret the moment I saw this little one.’She traced a finger down Frog’s wing, eliciting another coo.Which miffed Fola, somewhat.Frog had known Afanan all of a few hours.She was still an object of suspicion.But Fola had to admit that the woman had a trustworthiness about her—a certain kindness, a warmth carried in her voice.
‘You are thinking that Siwan should go to the City,’ Afanan went on.‘I don’t disagree.I will help you convince her, if I can.It may take some time, though.Girls on the brink of adulthood are always stubborn, and it’s worse when they are in love.’
