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“I know.” I offer him a playful smile.
Solange wipes her bloodied blade on her uniform before tucking it away. “This way, Your Highness. She waits in a tent. I hope. She is a wily one.” There’s a hint of deference in Solange’s voice, even as she mocks whoever I am to meet.
The Shadows lead me toward a cluster of tents. People outfitted in simple dresses and breeches rather than armor loiter around. They watch with curiosity, anger, and fear as I pass, followed by a string of Islorians.
Solange stalls at a green tent. “There is not enough room for all of you.”
“There is enough room for me.” Jarek lifts the tent flap and barges through without asking or waiting for an order.
“He’s still pissed about Caindra.” I step into the tent, Zander and Solange on my heels.
In a wooden chair inside sits an elderly woman, her face creased with wrinkles that have seen many decades, her white hair pulled back in a wispy bun.
When she sees me, her cloudy blue eyes widen, flipping to Solange. “Your Highness!” She eases out of her chair with difficulty and bows. “I was not expecting you.”
“Queen Neilina is dead. This is Ybaris’s new queen.” Solange removes her mask and headpiece, revealing a woman in her late thirties with tightly braided chestnut-brown hair. “This is Caster Agatha.”
“Agatha.” I know that name. “You’re the Master Scribe.”
Her face splits with a grin. “My dear Gesine has told you about me.”
“Yes. Your letter arrived in Ulysede the other day.”
“That took forever. I was wondering if it would make it.” Her aged gaze darts behind Zander’s and Jarek’s looming bodies, searching. “Did Gesine not travel to the rift with you?”
The perpetual ache flares. “She died yesterday.”
Agatha’s shoulders sink. “The change?”
“No. An arrow from an enemy.”
The caster’s face crumples as she settles back into her chair, as if standing for that long is a strain. “She was a special one.”
“She was,” I agree. “She helped me learn so much about myself, and so quickly. She trusted you without hesitation. She told me I could trust you.”
“I would never have expected an old scribe to voluntarily show up at the rift before a battle.” Solange smirks. “When I spotted her, I knew she had to be up to something, so I pulled her aside for an explanation.”
“I believe there were threats involved,” Agatha retorts crisply.
The Shadow shrugs. “I needed the truth.”
“You knew the truth already, but you and the Prime chose to ignore it.”
“The Prime ignored it, leaving me little room to do anything at all,” Solange snaps back.
“What did you tell Solange?” Zander asks Agatha, interrupting the bickering.
“Everything I know or suspect,” Agatha admits, turning to me. “You have opened the nymphaeum door, have you not?”
I sigh. They have figured that out on their own. Gesine did say Agatha was smart. “Yes.” They know this and yet no one has tried to kill me yet. “At the height of Hudem’s moon tonight, Islor will be free of the blood curse.”
“The nymphs have told you this?” Agatha asks.
“More like their spokesperson. A sylx.”
Her eyes widen with delight. “I have never met one before.”
“Be thankful for that,” Jarek mutters.
“With the nymph’s released, we are moving toward peace. The blood curse will be ended and the Ybarisan poison will be useless,” Zander says. “But the Nulling will open.”
“So we seal it like last time,” Solange counters.
“No. It won’t work. As long as the nymphs are here, it remains open.” When Zander looks questioningly at me, I shrug and echo Lucretia’s words. “It’s all connected.”
A heavy silence settles inside the tent.
Finally, Zander says, “Then our two sides must prepare to battle whatever comes out with everything we have.”
I hear what he doesn’t say. Malachi is a worry for tomorrow. I look to Agatha. “Why did you come to the rift ahead of a war?”
She chuckles. “I had high hopes of reaching this Ulysede and learning what I could to carry on the wisdom for Mordain. The scribes value knowledge. Of course, you know that. You’ve spent plenty of time with Gesine.” She smiles sadly. “I realize how difficult the journey is, but the chance to witness prophecy unfold was worth the risk.”
Difficult, but not impossible. “There are countless books in that library.”
Agatha’s face lights up.
So much information and no one to translate it for me anymore. What if there’s a way to fight Malachi hidden within? But Agatha is one little old scribe. She would struggle as much as Gesine. “How many of you can read the ancient language?”
“Oh …” Agatha scratches her chin in thought. “At least thirty of us.”
Thirty casters to carry on Gesine’s work. I owe it to her. “I have an urgent need for them. Would they be willing to come?” I expect to hear Zander’s quiet warning about allowing more casters into Ulysede but he remains quiet. Maybe he’s finally accepting what I did weeks ago—we can’t do this alone.
