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Stavros must have encountered devouts of Inganne before, because he doesn’t look all that taken aback by our reception. He bows his head in turn to the cleric.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your worship,” he says smoothly. “There are three devouts we believe serve at this temple who we’d like to speak with, if possible. Privately. They may have information from their time before their dedication that would benefit the royal family.”
“I’m sure they could spare a moment for that cause. Come inside and give me their names, and I’ll bring them to you.”
He leads us to a small room with mismatched chairs and paint splattered across the walls in chaotic fashion.
Once he’s left with the names Stavros gave him, the former general leans back in his chair and takes in the space with a bemused expression. “They do know how to entertain themselves.”
I sink deeper into the plush cushions of my seat. “I suppose that’s all Inganne really wants from them.”
“I wonder.”
The cleric ushers in the boy first, really a gangly young man now twenty-one, with wayward hair that looks as if it’s been splashed with paint too. He plops himself in one of the chairs and offers us an easy grin. “Cezari said you wanted to ask me about something?”
He certainly doesn’t look traumatized or in the grips of dark magic. It takes me several seconds to even spot his sacrifice—a pale scar in the tan skin of his forearm, about the size of a thumbprint. The kind of sacrifice people make when they’re barely asking for a gift at all, just wanting to show their devotion.
Ster. Torstem wouldn’t be siphoning any major powers from this guy.
Stavros leans forward, no doubt taking in the same details I have. The idea is for him to do most of the talking and me to observe, jumping in if I catch anything he’s missed. “I understand you spent most of your childhood at the Riverside Institute in Siltston.”
“Oh, yes,” the guy says with a laugh. “Not a bad place to grow up.”
“A professor from Sovereign College took a bit of an interest in you, offering some guidance?”
The guy nods, looking pleased that he’s able to confirm it. “That’s right. Torstem. He helped me figure out where I was meant to go. I’m grateful for that.”
His enthusiasm appears totally genuine to me.
Stavros offers him a warmer smile than he usually aims at me. “I’m glad to hear it. What did you think of the college when he took you to visit?”
The guy’s gaze turns a bit distant. He rubs his fingers together in his lap, and a tickle of apprehension quivers down my spine.
“Oh, it was very impressive,” he says. “All those buildings, so many people—the fine clothes and all. Not a place where I belonged, but it shows how the godlen smile on Silana.”
“Did Ster. Torstem mention anything in particular he might want you to helphimwith?” Stavros asks. “Something you could contribute to?”
The guy knits his brow. “Not that I can think of. He said he wanted to make sure I fulfilled my potential.”
After a couple more dead-end questions, Stavros dismisses our first interviewee. His grin slants crookedly. “Well, that got us a whole lot of nothing.”
“I don’t know.”
I hesitate, and Stavros’s gaze darts to me.
“What?” he demands, suddenly sounding every bit the general.
I hold up my hands. “I could be wrong. I’m not an expert. But I got the impression that when he talked about seeing the college, he was lying.”
“You think something went on during the trip that he’s hiding?”
“Not like that… More like he was inventing what he said about it in general.” I frown. “But that doesn’t make any sense. He sounded honest the rest of the time.”
Stavros hums thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see what we get out of the other two.”
Fyrinth, the older girl who’s now eighteen, answers much the same as her male counterpart did, though partly distracted by the butterfly she seems to have trained to circle her head. I have the sense that she too takes a little more effort to remember her trip to the college than she does anything else we ask her about.
Was the campus really that forgettable for kids who’d probably never been out of the fringes before?
