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“Do you know what ley lines are?”
I shook my head. I’d seen them mentioned, once or twice, in the scraps I collected over the years, but I’d never found any substantial description or definition.
“The old writings state that when the Empyrea left her home among the stars and gave up her wings to run free across the land for one night, the paths she ran were lit with her white fire, and even after she returned to her place in the sky, the fire remained and became the ley lines. They are, essentially, rivers of energy.
“When Achlev built his wall, he harnessed those rivers of energy and rerouted them into a perfect circle, then pinned them there by erecting three gates. Each of the three gates was spelled with three drops of blood from three symbolic donors, and each of the spells was sealed and rendered indestructible with the donors’ eventual deaths. High Gate—?”
“Three white horses.”
He nodded. “Forest Gate: a maid, a mother, and a crone. And King’s Gate: three of royal Achlevan blood.”
I remembered the children’s rhyme I’d heard in the square. It begins with three dead white ponies . . .
“You’ve seen what the wall does—?it doesn’t just repel the energy that comes up against it, it absorbs it. Now, imagine the power of every storm, every thorn, every marauding invader for five hundred years, still carried inside the wall. What happens when such a wall comes down?”
The breath came out of me in a rush. “Cataclysm.”
“Annihilation. Likely, the entire city would be leveled. There would be casualties—?death on an unthinkable scale.” His eyes were dark. “And someone who knows how the wall went up is now going to a very great effort to bring it down, using sacrificial stand-ins for the figures that helped erect it.”
It couldn’t be Toris, I thought—?he was busy at the time, whistling irritating folk songs and plotting my demise.
Zan let out a slow breath. “The original spells were each done in ten-day stretches over the course of a month, in concert with the moon’s phases, beginning with a new moon and ending with a black moon. The gates can be brought down only by undoing the spells the same way, beginning with a new moon and ending with a black moon.” He cleared his throat. “This month began with a new moon and ends with a black moon. Only one more Empyrean sacrifice is needed to destroy the seal at High Gate, and if my calculations are correct, it must be done before the tenth day of the waxing moon cycle.”
I stepped back. “That gives you two days. That’s why you wanted Falada. So that she wouldn’t fall into the hands of the person trying to break the spells.”
“This whole thing would have been much easier if you’d just sold her to me like I wanted.”
“But then you wouldn’t have known about my . . . my . . . ability.” It wasn’t the right word, but magic still felt unnatural and shameful somehow. “That’s why you are telling me all this. Why you showed me Falada and the passage, why you haven’t just put her down to keep someone else from doing it for you. You need blood magic to fix the damage that’s already been done, maybe even find out who is doing it, and with Simon gone . . .”
“There’s only you. When you cast that spell in the hedge, I felt hope—?real hope—?for the first time since that frosty morning eight days ago. I scoured the city looking for you afterward, because you’re right. We need you. Black moons are relatively rare—?only happening every few years. If you and I can keep the next sequential sacrifice from being completed on the timeline, it will be a while before another black moon enables them to try again. Enough time to find and punish the perpetrator and undo whatever damage he’s done.”
“But . . . but . . .” I sputtered, “surely there are more people who can do this than just me.”
“There could be. But after the demise of the Assembly, those who have the talent for blood magic don’t know they do, or deliberately choose not to practice.” He took my hand and turned it over, revealing the wealth of tiny cuts in various stages of healing. “I know it’s painful. I wouldn’t ask you—?or anyone—?to do it if I weren’t so afraid of what will happen to my people if the wall goes down.” He placed his other hand on top of mine, obscuring the cuts from view. “It isn’t an easy gift you have, even here in Achleva. But it is a gift. Think what you can do, how many lives you can save.”
The last time I was told I’d been given a gift, Emilie was burning to death on the stake. I stared at his hands on mine. “I’ve never been taught or trained. You saw what I did to those men. I don’t know how to control it. What you’re asking . . . it could be dangerous. I could make things worse.”
His gaze was intent. “You could have killed them both—?no one would have blamed you—?but you let them live.”
“I stopped only because you shook me out of it. There have been other times when I thought I was doing something good, only to find out later that what I’d done had . . . had hurt other people. Innocent people.”
“I’ll be with you every step of the way this time, too.”
“And what if you’re the one I hurt? What if you die?”
He stifled a snort, as if the idea that I could be dangerous was inherently funny. “If I die, then I die. It’s a risk I’m willing to take to keep that wall standing and the people inside it safe.” His mouth quirked to the side. “I would like to add that if I don’t have to die, I’d prefer not to.”
“I make no promises.”
I looked to the sky and shook my head. “Why does this great responsibility fall to you? Should not the king and prince be involved?”
“The king doesn’t want to hear problems, only praise. And the prince . . .” He looked into the distance. “The prince is a coward. Spends all his time hiding from the world, too feeble and ineffectual to be of any real use to anybody.”
Simon had spoken so highly of Valentin, Zan’s critique seemed especially sharp. “Do you hate him so much?”
Zan’s eyes softened, just a little. “I don’t hate him, not really. He means well. He’s just weak.”
I sighed. I was caving. “I’d need to see whatever records you have of the original spells, just to give me somewhere to start.”
