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They feed off sorrow and
sadness and the stink of blood.
One of them screams, startling me into dropping the basket. The sound is
eerily familiar.
“Mercy!”
They mock in a multilayered, high-pitched voice.
“Please, have
mercy!”
I clap my hands over my ears, recognizing my own voice in theirs, my pleas
to the Commandant. How did they know? How did they hear?
The shadows titter and circle. One, braver than the rest, nips at my leg, teeth
flashing. A chill pierces my skin, and I cry out.
“Stop!”
The ghuls cackle and parrot my plea.
“Stop! Stop!”
If only I had a scim, a knife—something to scare them off, the way Spiro
Teluman did. But I have nothing, so I try instead to stagger away, only to run
straight into a wall.
At least that’s what it feels like. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s not a
wall, but a person. A tall person, broad-shouldered and muscled like a mountain
cat.
I flinch back, losing my balance, and two big hands steady me. I look up and
freeze when I find myself staring into familiar, pale gray eyes.
138
T
XX: Elias
he morning after the Trial, I wake before dawn, groggy from the sleeping
draught I realize I’ve been doused with. My face is shaven, I’m clean, and
someone’s changed me into fresh fatigues.
“Elias.” Cain emerges from the shadows of my room. His face is drawn, as if
he’s been up all night. He holds up his hand at my instant barrage of questions.
“Aspirant Aquilla is in the very capable hands of Blackcliff’s physician,” he
says. “If she’s meant to live, she will. The Augurs will not interfere, for we
found nothing to indicate that the Farrars cheated. We have declared Marcus the
winner of the First Trial. He has been given a prize of a dagger and—”
“What?”
“He returned first—”
“Because he
cheated—
”
The door opens, and Zak limps in. I reach for the blade Grandfather left at my
bedside. Before I can fling it at the Toad, Cain is between us. I get up and
quickly stuff my feet into my boots—I won’t be caught lounging on a bed while
this filth is within ten feet of me.
Cain steeples his bloodless fingers and examines Zak. “You have something
to say.”
“You should heal her.” Veins stand out in Zak’s neck, and he shakes his head
like a wet dog ridding itself of water. “Stop it!” he says to the Augur. “Stop
trying to get in my head. Just heal her, all right?”
“Feeling guilty, you ass?” I try to shove past Cain, but the Augur blocks me
with surprising swiftness.
“I’m not saying we cheated.” Zak looks quickly at Cain. “I’m saying you
should heal her. Here.”
Cain’s whole body goes still as he fixates on Zak. The air shifts and grows
heavy. The Augur is reading him. I can feel it.
“You and Marcus found each other.” Cain furrows his brow. “You were . . .
led to each other . . . but not by one of the Augurs. Nor by the Commandant.”
The Augur closes his eyes, as if listening harder, before opening them.
“Well?” I ask. “What did you see?”
“Enough to convince me that the Augurs must heal Aspirant Aquilla. But not
enough to convince me that the Farrars commited sabotage.”
139
“Why can’t you just look into Zak’s mind like you do everyone else’s and—”
“Our power is not without its limits. We cannot penetrate the minds of those
who have learned to shield themselves.”
I give Zak an appraising look. How in the ten hells did he figure out how to
keep the Augurs out of his head?
“You both have an hour to leave school grounds,” Cain says. “I’ll inform the
Commandant that I’ve dismissed you from your duties for the day. Go for a
walk, go to the market, go to a whorehouse. I don’t care. Don’t return to the
school until evening, and don’t come back to the infirmary. Do you understand?”
Zak frowns. “Why do we have to leave?”
“Because your thoughts, Zacharias, are a pit of agony. And yours, Veturius,
echo with such deafening vengeance that I can hear nothing else. Neither will
allow me to do what I must to heal Aspirant Aquilla. So you will leave. Now.”
Cain moves aside, and, reluctantly, Zak and I walk out the door. Zak tries to
hurry away from me, but I’ve got questions that need answering and I’m not
about to let him worm his way out of them. I catch up to him.
“How did you figure out where we were? How did the Commandant know?”
“She has ways.”
“What ways? What did you show Cain? How did you manage to keep him
out of your head at will? Zak!” I pull his shoulder around so he faces me. He
throws my hand off but doesn’t walk away.
“All that Tribal rubbish about jinn and efrits, ghuls and wraiths—it’s not
rubbish, Veturius. It’s not myth. The old creatures are real. They’re coming for
us. Protect her. It’s the only thing you’re good for.”
“What do you care about her? Your brother’s tormented her for years, and
you’ve never said a word to stop him.”
Zak regards the sand training fields, empty at this early hour.
“You know the worst thing about all this?” he says quietly. “I was so close to
leaving him behind forever. So close to being free of him.”
It’s not what I expect to hear. Ever since we came to Blackcliff, there has
been no Marcus without Zak. The younger Farrar is closer to his brother than
Marcus’s own shadow.
“If you want to be free of him, then why go along with his every whim? Why
not stand up to him?”
“We’ve been together for so long.” Zak shakes his head. His face is
unreadable where the mask hasn’t yet melded. “I don’t know who I am without
him.”
140
When he walks to the front gates, I don’t follow. I need to clear my head. I
make for the eastern watchtower, where I strap myself into a harness and rappel
down to the dunes.
Sand swirls around me. My thoughts are confused. I trudge along the base of
the cliffs, watching the horizon pale as the sun rises. The wind grows stronger,
hot and insistent. As I walk, it seems like shapes appear in the sands, figures
spinning and dancing, feeding off the wind’s ferocity. Whispers ride the air, and I
think I hear the piercing staccato of wild laughter.
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