Page 93

We sit in stupefied silence until Father sniffs and looks at me. “You know what this says to me?”

I tilt my head, waiting.

“It says nothing is truly impossible.”

He reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Gathering up our things, we leave the cottage behind and find the cart waiting where we left it. Father fixes a couple lanterns on two hooks meant for the purpose and hitches up the cart by its handles. We set off down the trail, carried on with the music woven by stream and songbirds and souls knit together.

For a moment, I pretend everything is right in the world.

The illusion breaks upon entering Utsanek. On every street corner, the gossip hisses.

“Did you see how awful Ketur looked?”

“Yes, so drab and dispirited.”

“Well, you can’t blame her with that excuse of a man she calls her husband.”

“And her youngest boys. Did you see? Cowering in her arms like babies.”

“The older one must be nearly twelve by now. Shameful he is so dependent on her at that age.”

“And what of her oldest? He showed so much promise before, but he looks as wrecked as his mother.”

“Pity.”

“Yes, well. It was bound to happen. We always knew they wouldn’t lord their status over us forever.”

I try not to stare at the women as we pass. Who are they talking about? Disquiet threatens to smother me. My steps slow, the cart trundling on behind my father.

“But what about the newcomer?”

“Have you ever seen such power?”

“Nowhere but with the Shrouded.”

“And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“That young lady sure thinks so.”

“He says he’s going to usher in a new age for the Vale. Do you believe that?”

“A new age? Well, I’m all for that. It could hardly be any worse than the one we just lived through.”

“It’s about time we had a new Foremost.”

So, the challenge was successful.

The urge to run off and find Belwyn is strong, but I realize, with a sinking heart, I have no idea where to find him. Every single one of our meetings has been by chance. Why did I never find out more about him?

Elyon... my mind whispers. But I don’t know what else to say.

Thankful the abundance of sola brossa means I no longer need to be worried about people seeing my light, I hurry to catch up to my father as he approaches the market square.

I am uneasy entering it, remembering how hostile it turned the last time I was here, but the mood feels different today. Everyone buzzes with excitement. Stall keepers and shop owners alike have decorated with banners of dyed fabric and fresh gathered foliage from the forest’s edge. There are more fine wares on display than normal.

Father weaves the small cart through the throng with extraordinary patience. I trail after him, trying to make sense of the shift in mood.