Page 51 of The Queens and the Kings
Had to be the dust.
It hadn’t been clear at the time, but Henrik reported that the onded attacked them and then disintegrated into the same powder. Pedr had observed something similar from his vantage on the ship, but it didn’t make sense. As if . . . as if arcane made the onded.
Whatarcane?
None he had seen before. If it tied into rocks, it must be from the Arcanist of Land, Jordaire. Which meant he’d have to speak to Jordaire.
Didn’t like that option.
Yet, the powder resulted in death. Half-death as an onded, and then oblivion. Where were their souls? Which meant this horrid arcane tied into the Arcanist of Souls . . .
Shite.
He hoped not. Either way, he loathed his options.
“Powder,” Pedr muttered, tapping his finger along a rope. Lights trailed upward with each touch. His ship didn’t move, because he didn’t want it to move. It happened as much in his head as in the sails. He shook his head to clear his rumination and focus on facts.
He knew a few things. The dust, powder, whatever, arose from the onded. There may have been no bodies on the top deck because they had all disintegrated into the dust. Consideringthat, something arcane had to be involved.
He swung around to face Einar. “Theonded,” he called. “They werethe powder, yes?”
Einar pushed off the side. “They turned into it.”
“Was the powder also below decks?”
“I think so.”
“You went down there?”
Einar nodded. The edge of his expression intensified. “Only one deck below. The bodies blocked the path, and so did the smells. Why?”
“I want to know more about the powder. Something was . . . strange . . . about it. Was there powder below?”
“Like I said, I think so. I didn’t go inside that far. It was dark and horrible. Smelled like dead bodies, and many of them blocked the passage.”
“Did it smell like sealstone?”
“Yes.”
“You went no farther than the first deck?”
“As I said, no.”
Pedr swore under his breath. He couldn’t avoid the inevitable. An extremely flammable powder, originated in—or created by—onded bodies. Said dust potentially negated arcane, or at least deeply affected his ability to use it. He’d never heardof such a thing. Not once in all his years on the seas. Powder was dust. Dust was earth.
Earth was not his realm.
“Shite.”
He had to meet with Jordaire. One gigantic bastid of a man with a chip on his shoulder as wide as the mainland.
Einar’s eyes sparkled with suspicion. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Whatever you’re trying to figure out has to do with Arcanists, doesn’t it?”
Pedr set his hands on his hips. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation all day, if possible. Didn’t matter how intensely Einar stared or how awkward their silence. Pedr didn’t want to talk about Arcanists or the space between death and the departing of souls or all the questions Einar collected, waiting to unleash.
