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“We need to do something,” I say. There must be some way to survive the Trials. I didn’t face the Storm to fall at Dalca’s hands. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Yes,” Pa says. “Something I should have done long ago.”
I turn to him, surprised. Somehow, maybe for the first time in my life, I didn’t expect Pa to have all the answers. I’ve gotten used to relying on myself.
It’s comforting, in a way, to slip back into the role of being my father’s daughter, knowing he’s capable and knowledgeable in ways I’m not. It’s exactly like slipping into an old, comfortable sweater. But somehow, the sweater feels a little tighter than it once did.
Pa doesn’t notice my hesitation. His focus is on the ikons carved into the walls and ceiling. “They’ve done a good job of nulling this room. Ikons may not work here, but they will work tomorrow. That is what we need to prepare for.”
It takes a moment for me to understand.
“I’m going to teach you ikonomancy.”
