“Patience, Acolyte. You will get the chance to prove yourself soon enough. As for now, let me play the role of gracious host and offer you the assistance that you seek.”
The man snapped his fingers, a sheet of parchment appearing in his hand with a shower of red sparks.
“You want to wake those who dream,” the Sleeper continued, taking the parchment and rolling it between his fingers till it resembled a thin scroll. “This is not an easy task. The Source exacts a heavy toll on any who channel its power. Trust me, I speak from experience. Recovery may come naturally after many centuries of rest. But if you wish to wake them sooner, then you’ll need to follow these instructions to the letter. They are the very instructions of Vanena herself.”
He held out the scroll of parchment to me, but I didn’t move to take it.
“Why offer this to us?”
“Because I know the faces of those who have lost the ones they love,” he answered plainly. “And behind all the bravado and arrogance, I see two broken souls desperate for reunion. I have the knowledge you want, Seeker. Take it. Use it.”
“What do you want in return?” I asked, waiting for the price to come.
“You’ve already paid it,” the Sleeper said, flicking his wrist to toss the parchment at me. I caught it with ease, the papercrinkling under my grip. “You helped bring about the Second Awakening. That means I’ll be forever in your debt. You’ve given the world a wonderful gift.”
Cirian and I remained silent, neither of us corroborating the claims. How could this Sleeper possibly know what happened with Tobias?
The Sleeper moved then, heading toward the corner where the flat door waited. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and fetch our dear friend. Please make yourselves comfortable in the meantime. It won’t take long. Ah, and Seeker?”
He paused by the door, training his featureless stare on me.
“Yes?”
“That last step requires a spell from a compendium locked deep in the Cradle’s vaults. I think you’ll find great interest in it. Perhaps your friendly acolyte companion could help procure it for you?”
Cirian snorted a baleful laugh.
“Back in a flash.”
The door closed behind the Seeker, leaving the two of us percolating in an eerie silence.
“I don’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth,” Cirian said eventually, turning to face me.
“I’m skeptical as well,” I agreed, unfurling the sheet of parchment and holding it up to the light. “But what if he’s telling the truth?”
Written in antiquated hand, the parchment was lined with a complex array of instructions. I scanned the lines thrice before I finally was able to absorb the writing. It was a list of potions, tinctures, and concoctions to be administered in succession. Some I was familiar with, while others sounded like something from a fictitious romp.
“What does it say?” Cirian asked.
“It’s instructions,” I answered, turning the parchment over to make sure I wasn’t overlooking anything.
“Give it here,” demanded Cirian.
I handed over the parchment, my mind preoccupied as I mulled over the details. Was this Sleeper really so keen to help us without reward? I’d been devoid of hope for so long, even a chance as long as this brought a spark.
“This is pure lunacy,” he muttered, his dark eyes scanning the parchment with fervor. “You can’t honestly believe any of this is going to help Tobias.”
“I’ve been met with blockade after blockade, Cirian. I’m out of ideas. If this Sleeper is what he says he is, then maybe there’s a chance this works.”
“And maybe he wants us distracted while he creates an army of newly-magical soldiers to do his bidding. What about that?”
“We haven’t heard a single call for violence,” I reminded him. “I think your emotions have clouded your better judgment. You think just because this man claims to have a deeper connection to the Source, that it negates your own.”
Cirian crumpled the paper and flung it at me, the wadded parchment striking me in the chest before falling to the floor. “No call for violence? How do you explain what’s happened to Sancha’s guard? Or Malachi?”
“There are a dozen different explanations that don’t point toward a coup. And though I appreciate her brilliance, I also know that Sancha is as ruthless as she is required to be. So, if she were wanting an excuse to turn the other Magi against these Converts, then fabricating an attack would be the easiest way to?—”
“Are you suggesting that Sancha is lying?” Cirian interrupted.
