Page 86 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

The street opens into an expansive square. My eyes are drawn immediately to a bronze statue of a male that stands at least fifteen feet tall. “Who is that?” I ask.

Solange shoots me a warning look. “Is the Master Scribe’s memory lapsing? How do you not remember Caster Yason?”

That name rings a bell. “Ah, yes … the proud bull.” Wendeline once told me about the male elemental who studded hundreds of children in Nyos’s attempt to spawn a key caster, back when Mordain prized the rare power instead of culling it.

Fatima regards me. If she knew who I really was, would she be so loyal to her leader?

I’m quickly distracted from those thoughts by the display at the far end, where four scorched heaps of wood sit, the charred remains of a person tied to beams on each. Fresh pyres wait nearby for the next round.

“Who were they?” Solange demands.

Fatima lists names I don’t recognize. None are Zaleria or Allegra, at least. But it doesn’t ease the tightness in my chest. These scribes did not deserve this. “Where are the others being held?”

“In the dungeons, Master Scribe Agatha,” Fatima answers, and I sense a hint of familiarity in her voice. “Except for Caster Zaleria. She is being questioned in the Prime’s study, I believe.”

“And the Second?” Solange asks.

Fatima shrugs. “With the guild, I assume?”

“Assumptions will lead you astray more often than not.”

“Yes, Master Shadow.” She dips her head.

A soft huff sounds behind Solange’s mask as she peers first at the pyres and then at the towers looming above. “I think the Master Scribe would benefit from some time in the dungeon before meeting with the guild. Perhaps seeing the fear of her fellow scribes will help loosen her tongue. We will escort her there now.” She grips my elbow, leading me several steps toward a dark entrance. I know what Solange is doing—heeding Zander’s revised orders to get the scribes out rather than deal with the problem of the Prime.

But this will likely be my only chance. I can’t let Zander’s fear dictate my actions.

I lock my feet. “Actually, I would much prefer to meet with the Prime now.”

Solange stalls. “Along with the entire guild? Are you positive, Master Scribe?” She’s trying to warn me off.

“Yes. Let’s get this over with so we can move on to more important things.”

The breeze chills my face as we cross the parapet high above the ground toward a corridor. Countless lanterns burn along the path, unaffected by the wind.

“You were a pupil of Master Scribe Agatha’s before you joined the Shadows, were you not, Fatima?” Solange says.

“Yes, I was.”

“Were you surprised by what the Prime has claimed she and her fellow scribes have been party to?”

Fatima sneaks a glance at me. “Astonished, to be honest. Master Scribe Agatha was always patient, and fair, and she taught me much. She was my favorite teacher.”

“I’m not dead yet. Soon, likely.” I imagine Agatha would say something like that.

Fatima’s eyes crinkle. “No, Master Scribe. You are certainly not.”

Solange does a cursory glance around but lowers her voice, anyway. “Given your own experience with the Master Scribe, do you believe what the Prime claims to be true?”

She falters. “Earlier, you said—”

“Forget what I said. What does your gut say?”

My ears catch Fatima’s hard swallow. “I would accept any reason not to believe it.”

“Good. I hope you will see that reason soon, firsthand.” We round a bend, and her next words come quick and clipped. “You will accompany Master Scribe Agatha inside.”

“Me?” Fatima squeaks while I exclaim, “What?” my feet stalling. Solange is abandoning me the first chance she gets?

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