She frowned. “Ah. The chronicler Tea dragged into this mess.” She extended a hand, but not to grip mine. “Her letters. Where are they?”

I paused, tightening my hold, the pages crumpling in my obstinacy. This was the only task she had given me. Venerable as Lady Altaecia was, I could not comply. The Dark asha had given them to me.

She sighed. “We are wasting time.”

“We have had little chance to read them, given Zoya’s enthusiasm for speed,” Lord Fox said. “Tea entrusted her papers to him, and he feels compelled to watch over her words. We can read the rest of them once we return.”

Lady Altaecia pursed her lips. “Very well. We must make haste for the Valerian. The Willows was the hardest hit, but whether by coincidence or from a belated sense of obligation, Tea left the Valerian untouched.”

She winced. “The oracle…she forewarned us, saved us. She had been refusing visitors the last few months. We thought she was ill or worse until she reemerged a week ago and spoke of fire raining down on Ankyo, and by the time the azi arrived, we had taken the bulk of the citizens to safer ground. We would have suffered worse without her warnings.”

“I hope,” said the elderly Drychta beside her, “that you would give me the chance to study her letters as well, milord. I promise to treat them like I would one of my rare books and give her the due honor she deserves.”

“Tea brought about Mykkie’s death, however indirectly,” Althy said, though the look on her face was in contrast to the harsh words. “The time to honor her has long elapsed.”

A spasm of grief passed through Lord Fox’s expression, though he steeled himself quickly enough. “We’ll talk more at the Valerian.”

“I am glad to see a fellow Drychta, even if I’d hoped the current state of affairs would be different,” I said. “But how do you know the Dark asha?”

“We knew each other only briefly, kinsman, but it was enough to know her friendship. My name is Garindor Sverrthiya. I know nothing of fighting, but perhaps I can be useful elsewhere.”

5

The legend of Blade that Soars poses too many questions, Vernasha wrote. Bone witches will demand answers we should not be at liberty to divulge. The tale tells us to use our magic to set the world right, but at the cost of magic’s possession. I reject such sentiments. We can do far more by retaining what the Creator graciously bestowed upon us. To sacrifice such power holds neither merit nor results. The People of the Shadow may think to stop us, but they are few in number, and we are many.

I intend to reframe the legend to suit our purposes. A harmless lie is better than a harmful truth. Better to wield strength in an imperfect land than to be powerless in a perfect one.