But the vision… that was not something Luc had mentioned before. Rolan hadn’t read of it in the Arcane Histories either, though now that he knew, certain things he’d read suddenly made more sense.
“Butwhy?” he asked. “Why do we have toseeit? Just to use Arcana?”
“No. When we kill a Cryptic,” Luc went on, “it doesn’t go away, not for good. The secret that created it remains. If you’d left that pincer alone, in time the Cryptic would have grown back. Those relics in the box back home? I cannot let them sit for long. They need to be broken eventually, each one. Their secrets must be let out.” Gently, Luc reached out and gripped Rolan’s shoulder, ensuring the boy met his eyes, that he was taking in every word. “The only way to truly kill a Cryptic is to learn its secret. Secretswantto be known. They want to be carried.”
He spread his hands, letting out a long breath. “So that is what we Arcanists do. We carry secrets. All the private whispers andhidden deeds people don’t want anyone to know about,weknow them. We remember them, so they can’t hurt anyone again.”
“Like a Listener?” Rolan asked.
Luc tilted his head side to side. “Yes and no. A Listener hears secrets, yes. Usually the more mundane ones. The ones people don’t mind sharing to an anonymous face. And even if they’re the bad kind, a Listener doesn’t have tolivethe secret, as we do. They can even forget them over time. But an Arcanist cannot. We don’t hear secrets whispered in the dark. We take the whole of them into ourselves, with Arcana burning them into our brains. The secrets we carry remain with us forever, even more vivid than our own memories. Nothing can erase them.”
“The Arcanist sees into your soul and knows your most private thoughts,”recited Rolan. “The storiesaretrue.”
“To an extent.” Luc nodded slowly. “Being an Arcanist isn’t just about fighting monsters. It’s about carrying the weight of an entire society’s secrets. Becoming the vessel to contain all the worst parts of people, to stop them from turning into monsters. This is what your friend Evaine wanted to protect you from.” He paused, then added more to himself, “For an apothecary, she knows a curious amount of information about the Arcane ways.”
Rolan thought for a moment. Sensations were rolling through him—lingering Arcana, strength and vitality beyond his own natural limits, but also horror, and sorrow, and a bone-aching dread.
“Isn’t it sort of distracting?” he asked. “Using Arcana in the middle of a fight, only to get knocked flat by some secret? How do you stop it from getting you killed?”
“A good question. There are ways to hold off the secret untilafter the fight. But ideally you’d tap your Arcana reserves wellbeforeyou get into any trouble, learning the secret and saving the rest of the power for when you need it. You will learn to master all this, if you wish.”
Rolan glanced at Luc nervously. “Do you knowmysecrets?”
Luc leaned back, resting on his heels. “The secret you saw just now, do you know whose it was?”
Rolan shook his head. He hadn’t recognized the hands or the voice belonging to the man. The visions still swirled in his mind, and when he closed his eyes, he could see the poor beggar in the river, gasping for help that did not come.
He shivered, wiping at his eyes.
“Occasionally,” said Luc, “I do recognize the person through some detail of their secret. But most of the time I have no idea whose secret I’ve learned. I don’t reallywantto know.”
Rolan frowned. “But if you see all the bad things that people have done, can’t you stop them? You could be pullingrealcriminals off the streets, doingactualgood. Not like Hoff. You know who the true bad people are!”
“Never,”Luc said, so sharply that Rolan flinched. “Arcanist law is firm and clear: An Arcanist mayneverspeak the secrets he knows, however terrible, however dangerous. This is the single greatest transgression any Arcanist may commit. And the sentence is swift and final. Any Arcanist who betrays the secrets he carries must be executed.”
Rolan gulped. He thought of the faceless man whose secret he’d learned. He shouldpayfor what he did to that beggar! It was wrong and cruel and evil. He deserved punishment. “But, if it would save people…”
“Oh, it might. If I tracked down the murderers and the thieves and the worst of the scum whose secrets I’ve learned, I could make them disappear. But I’m not a judge. I cannot weigh whether a person’s actions are right or wrong. I don’t know their reasons or their situation. I can only witness their deeds. Can you imagine what would happen if Arcanists began telling their neighbors’ secrets?”
Rolan considered it, and shivered. A world withnosecrets? “It would tear the city apart.”
He gazed at Luc with new understanding. This was why the Arcanist often returned from his hunts so exhausted, more than just from fighting. Hissoulwas tired, burdened with all the darkest acts of humanity. No wonder he lived out here, away from everyone. How could any Arcanist live among people, knowing them as they truly were?
“This is why they hate you,” said Rolan. “It’s why they call you a monster, even if they don’t fully understand the details. You know the darkest parts of them. So they drive you away, they hide from you, they makeyouinto some kind of villain. But all you do is protect them.”
“It’s good you understand.” Tiredly, Luc rose to his feet, Rolan standing with him. “There’s a reason I wanted you to know all this tonight. Now, I don’t want your answer today or in the morning. But when we go to Crisanth tomorrow, we will pay a visit to your apothecary. Fiendish, meddling woman that she is, she seems to care for you.”
Putting his great hand on Rolan’s shoulder, Luc continued in a low, earnest tone. “If you wish to stay with her, you may, and it will be over between us. Hoff won’t touch you, I’ll make sure of that. You’ll be safe and free to choose your future.” He let his words sink intoRolan before adding, “This life of mine… it is not for everyone. I would even say it’s not foranyone. Do you understand?”
Rolan did.
Luc was giving him a way out.
“You must know the choice you’re making,” said Luc. “If you decide to stay with me, Rolan, you’ll carry secrets the rest of your life. Many of them dark and terrible. Some will keep you up at night and haunt your dreams. You’ll fight and you’ll suffer and you’ll be afraid a lot of the time.”
He lifted his shaggy head, looking toward the distant city. In the gloaming, Crisanth burned golden, its many lamps lit for the coming night. “I wish I could say there was some reward in it, some thanks for a life lived—or not lived—on their behalf. But you’ll carry their secrets to keep them safe, and they’ll hate you for it. It will change you and the way you see other people. It’s a terrible way to live.”
“Why didyoudo it, then? Why did you become an Arcanist?”
