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“What did she actually see? Or what did she tell the queen she saw?” I relay Lorel’s words. “Yesenia and Gesine are friends. I will wager she helped with the escape.”
“So she might hold back details.”
“If they could prove harmful to our cause, yes.” Namely, that the Princess Romeria at the gates is no longer her daughter.
That she is a key caster.
“I am sure it must be this Ulysede.” My whisper is full of excitement. That single word scrawled in a rush on the bottom of Gesine’s letter. It all makes sense.
“Do not sound so thrilled, Agatha!” Allegra hisses, her panic rising. “Stonekeep was a wall of nymph scripture and now it is a city, and we must assume the key caster opened it. Can you appreciate what this means?”
“Far more than anyone else in Nyos.” An edge lines my tone. “The nymphs will walk these lands again in the time of the casters. It is prophecy.”
“And what else might walk alongside them?” The Second paces. “We cannot wait for a response from Gesine any longer.”
“And what would you recommend we do, then? Go to the council with this?”
“Fates, no.” She scoffs. “Lorel will run to the queen and blame us. The queen will execute us for treason and use the elementals to summon the fates again. No, that is not a choice we can consider.” She shakes her head to emphasize her words, her gaze narrowed on the ships below. “There is no other choice. We must go to this Ulysede ourselves.” She spins, her finger pointed. “You must go.”
“Me?” I laugh. She must be joking. “I cannot leave Nyos.”
“Why not? You have gone on excursions, all across Ybaris and Skatrana. You were even in Seacadore once.”
“Yes, many years ago. Besides, the Prime has assigned me a task of sifting through prophecy for answers.”
“Which you have no plans to give her, anyway.”
“But if I leave, she will grow suspicious.”
“This is a task she has given to you in secrecy, yes? I am not supposed to know about it.”
“Yes.”
Allegra bites her bottom lip in thought, and my fear swells. What web is her deceptive little mind weaving? “As a Second, I order you to escort my two elementals to Argon. The Prime cannot counter that without an explanation, one she will not wish to give. There, you will find Yesenia, glean what more you can from her, and then, instead of returning to Nyos, you will make your way to the rift with the caravan. When they cross, you go west.”
“But … but …” I sputter. “I am eight decades old, Allegra! I am no longer built for traipsing across the realms, especially not in the middle of a war!”
“Exactly. An old scribe. No one will find threat in you. And you are not as feeble as you paint yourself to be.” Allegra closes in, her face earnest. “There is no one else who knows more about prophecy than you. Mordain needs a bridge to Ulysede.”
“Gesine is that bridge.”
“No, Gesine is an elemental caster who could go through the change at any time.”
“Yes, and I could go through the change of old age at any time. From breathing to not!” It takes hours for my joints to unstiffen in the mornings. How long before my body decides it’s had enough?
She scoffs. “You are as healthy as an ox. You are the bridge. You have been since the day Mordain learned of Neilina’s breach. All of this was possible because of you.” Her lips twist. “Or you can spend the rest of your days in Nyos, dwelling in dusty books, reading about prophecy instead of witnessing it unfold.”
The prospect of seeing this nymph kingdom, of meeting this key caster, is enticing. If I can make it there. “This is not how I expected my day to turn.”
She sets a hand on my shoulder. “The ship leaves in an hour for Argon. You must pack.”
“Protect our scribes at all costs.” I wrap the tome in parchment to safeguard it from the elements, and stuff it into my rucksack with three others—the only books in all of Nyos that hint of the Queen for All and the nymphs’ token. I know it is wrong to remove these from our libraries, but for now, the safest place for them is with me. “When the Prime begins to suspect the truth and questions you, you must tell her that I have acted alone in this.”
“Yes, Master Scribe.” Zaleria dips her head.
“You are Master Scribe now, by my wishes if not Lorel’s appointment soon enough.” The caster was a gangly prepubescent when I was already collecting information from my first seer, but decades later, we’ve formed a loyal bond—part mentor-mentee, but mostly in our devotion to prophecy. Zaleria was the first I approached when news of Ianca’s summoning reached my ears.
