The man thought for a few moments, stroking at his beard. “I can think of one, yes. Garindor Sverrthiya lives in Farsun and is the preeminent historian when it comes to asha mythology.”

“Garindor? That’s not an Isteran name,” said Kalen.

“It isn’t. Garindor originally came from Drycht. He sought refuge here many years ago.”

“That’s some refuge,” Likh said. “Istera is about the farthest kingdom from Drycht as one can get.”

“It is a disgrace that Drycht do not honor their intellectuals the same way we do in Kion,” Councilor Ludvig agreed. “Drycht has always been a paradise for despots. When King Aadil wrested power from King Adhitaya and the royal house of Narsethi, politics changed drastically. King Adhitaya was not himself a good man, as you might know. When the revolution happened, he was killed, and his son Omid went missing. In his first few years of rule, Aadil showed signs of intelligence, of enlightenment. The kingdom enjoyed a golden age of song and stories. Though that changed soon enough. I shall talk to Rendor and see what he can do to assist us in making contact with Garindor.”

“Your hunch was right all along, little uchenik,” Rahim remarked with a nod toward me, as the Isteran adviser left us. “Even in Tresea, I grew up on tales of Blade that Soars and the villainy of Hollow Knife. It seems inconceivable that this was a lie.”

“But why?” Likh was still shaken. “Why would Vernasha change her story?”

“We don’t know yet, Likh,” Althy said gently. “Let us see what Lord Garindor has to say before passing judgment.”

Likh’s shoulders slumped. “Vernasha of the Roses was a peerless warrior! She was Kion’s first asha!”

“Did you know her well enough to say that, little one?” Rahim asked. “Did she tell you her favorite colors, her favorite dress? It’s easy to look at a hero and deny their human flaws. Many heroes in my childhood were blackguards in their own right, and the only reason they are lauded still is because they are but Tresean.” The large man frowned. “But this too is a question I would like answered.”

“And that doesn’t change what being an asha is all about.” Khalad’s voice was soft, hushed by the cold and tempered in the presence of old books. He put his hand on Likh’s shoulder. “You can’t honor the past if you don’t know what that past is. I would much rather know the truth than live in ignorant bliss, even if it destroys all I’ve come to believe. Tradition isn’t always honorable. If it was, then you’d have been an asha for years, without opposition.”