Page 107 of The Shadowed Oracle
Dean nodded, looking to Ingrid. “A magus like him will always plot against others like him. No matter how powerful.”
“I did read something like that,” Ingrid said. It was a passage from one of the first books she’d plucked from the shelves in her room.Bonded Worlds, and the Embattled Wielders.It was a slog, mostly pretentious abstractions littering the speculative re-telling of the first Great War, but it had been educational in one area. It spoke of Magi and their cruel, competitive practices.
“He will try to take her power,” Ingrid threw in, then recited verbatim: “Ealis’ gifts can only touch so many.”
Dean’s eyes closed in a wince, as if he was drawing on something he hadn’t thought of in ages. “A blessed Viator alone in their wielding can harness unimaginable power. The Mother spreading her love to many is rich in company and comfort. The Mother giving all her love to just one chosen child is blissful in preoccupation.”
“We could use this,” Ingrid exclaimed. “Right? Somehow, we could use this to drive a wedge between the two.” She gripped her head as if a migraine had suddenly struck her. “I mean, if they are close allies, she might not be so happy with the conditions of their agreement.”
Tyla balked, “Whether or not they’re chummy doesn’t matter. What matters is that Enitha knelt to him, like everyone else. We know that much. And I don’t think anyone needs to be informed of Makkar’s zeal. Enitha knows the punchy bits of the old ways. Every Viator in Ealis does. She must know that Makkar believes killing her would increase his power.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Dean said cryptically.
“Spit it out,” Tyla groaned.
“The other side would be…” Dean stilled, holding them in suspense. “Enitha isn’t a Magus at all. She’s only a puppet. Someone Makkar made to look powerful, using his own magic to destroy the court of Maradenn from afar. He knew he couldn’t penetrate the walls of Maradenn. He knew he couldn’t dispel the ideals of the descendants of Ido. So he played the long game.Captured the prince, but made it look like he had nothing to do with it. Threatened to cut off their trade routes to Iberium if they came for Arryn, but made it look like the work of a mad usurper.”
“That’s fucking evil.” Tyla’s eyes broadened. “Evil, but brilliant.”
Dean scratched at the gruff on his chin. “Lacking evidence, though.”
“We made a good case just now,” Tyla conceded. “Something to keep in mind.”
“You mean along with the hundreds of other horrific things we have swimming in our heads?” Ingrid asked.
“Yes,” Dean’s mouth twisted in an ugly, but somehow still charming expression. “You don’t need to remind me how easy it is to overthink things.”
“You?” Ingrid’s eyes went wide. “Overthink?”
“Funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” Tyla said, crossing her arms.
“Of course you aren’t,” Dean jested. “The dashing General Veston isn’t here to entertain you anymore.”
“You little?—"
Just then, the crew began to sound off from the main deck. Sailors stomped, sails were redirected, the bow slightly tilted, and the captain called out directives.
The Occi Isles had been spotted by the sailor on aloft duty in the lookout nest above. By the morning, they’d be docked, taking the merchant’s path to the royal trade gates, being searched before entrance, and, hopefully, they’d be sharing a room with an enemy. How powerful that enemy was, and whether this enemy had close ties with an even more powerful enemy, those questions could not be answered now.
So, taking Tyla’s advice, Ingrid decided to focus on the positive.
“Care to watch the sunrise?” Her invitation was to both Tyla and Dean, but she kept her eyes on the latter. “I read there’s nothing like it out here.”
Dean grinned at her, but did not answer immediately.
“Oh come on,” Ingrid said. “Can’t we pretend for a second that we aren’t in mortal danger? It’s our last chance before?—”
“Before we are literally in mortal danger?” Dean cut in.
“Yes. So what do you say?”
“Absolutely not,” Tyla decided finally. “And if you two get even a glimpse of something moving down there.” She rose to her toes, peeking over the ship’s edge. “Don’t gawk. Don’t hypothesize. Just run.”
Ingrid saluted. “Will do. Mom.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
