Page 102 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“If I did still believe that, you’d know about it,” I say, not altogether nicely. Alastor gives me a reproving look, but I ignore it. I feel blindsided and wonder where Harman’s going with this.
“I was defensive about your accusations back then. But the more I thought about it,” Harman continues, “the more I thought the story about the Hand’s involvement is a total smokescreen. We were scapegoats, and my mentor was killed for it. A great injustice has been done to both of us. I wasn’t the Hand’s leader back then, and the backlash against us caused too much upheaval at the time for us to learn what really happened. But I want to find out the truth. I decided, before Bastion in fact, that I wanted to discover who killed your parents.”
Harman’s eyes dart to Alastor, who also looks surprised. For just a moment, I ungenerously think Harman’s only doing this because of Alastor. Perhaps it’s some kind of odd attempt to win over the best friend. Then I remember I’ve been coupled with Harman’s sister for much longer than that, and he’s never demanded I gethisapproval. Maybe the rebel leader does just want answers.
“Why bring this up now?” I ask.
“I may have had the idea early, but my focus was on the Bastion mission first, and then Morgana was captured and the situation between us…” He meets my gaze, and I know we’re both thinking about my rage after the Temple took Ana. “Well, it didn’t seem like the time to bring it up. Then with the coronation, we’ve been on a deadline. It was only when you left for Agathyre and the other mission for Elmere that I had a moment to really sit down and consider how we’d start.”
“Alright, and where is that?” I ask.
“I have certain resources I can draw upon—contacts in the area where your parents were killed who might be able to find out more details than those given to the Filusians. Naturally, I’ll let you know the moment we turn up anything, but I wanted to get your permission first, before I went ahead.”
“And you have it,” I say without hesitation. I might have believed the rebels were responsible for their murders, but for fifteen years, I’ve wanted to know exactly who killed them—who cast the spell or lifted the blade. Yet everyone always just told me to make peace with the official story: that faceless rebels did it, and Trova punished their group accordingly. Now this man who owes me nothing has chosen to care about it, more than my own flesh and blood ever did. I feel an unexpected surge of warmth for the Hand’s leader.
“Then I’ll start making inquiries right away,” Harman says. “Discreetly, of course.”
“Thank you,” I say, and Alastor gives me a pleased look when he hears the sincerity in my voice.
“It’s my pleasure, Leonidas,” Harman says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably start wading through these.” He gestures to the pile of reports and gives us a wry smile. “A rebel’s work is never done.”
Harman picks up the first piece of folded parchment and opens it as we stand to go. We’re only a few feet away when his voice stops us.
“Wait,” Harman calls. We both turn around, and Harman’s easy expression is gone, replaced by troubling solemnity. He holds up the letter in his hand.
“Get Ana and the others. They need to hear this.”
MORGANA
I stare at the signature on the letter, imagining I can smell the salty air of Gullert wafting from the parchment.
“Does Will say if he knew them personally?” I ask, scanning though the tightly packed rows of handwriting. My old friend writes in something of a scrawl, and I’m out of practice at deciphering it.
Harman shakes his head. “Will just says that he was the son of a local fisherman. They kept him out on the boats most of the time. That’s how he evaded detection for so long.”
“But now Caledon’s campaign of terror has reached Gullert,” I say, throwing the letter down in disgust.
“May I ask what this means?” Corrin says, watching us all with a casual curiosity. He’s new to this fight, but he hasn’t protested being included in it since he returned from Elmere. I have a few guesses as to why that might be, and one of them has green eyes and wicked aim.
“Caledon found another solari child,” I say. “And according to Will, he’s being escorted to Qimorna as we speak. With the clerics getting the potion ingredients and all these raids…”
“You think he’s cracked it,” Alastor says. “He’s got the recipe for your potion, and he’s going to make that child more powerful with it. But won’t that take years?”
“I don’t see Caledon being so patient,” Leon says darkly.
“Is it possible?” I turn to Mal, the only one among us who knows anything about viatic magic. “Could he somehow make the side effects happen faster? Strengthen the boy’s magic with more concentrated doses to speed up the process?”
“It would need to be very potent,” Mal says. “I know that much. Etusca’s version of it was so ingenious because it suppressed your magic without impacting your health overall. Anything stronger…” He frowns. “It would almost certainly cause serious damage. I don’t believe the person would die instantly, but I can’t imagine them living for longer than a few days while their body shuts down.”
I sit back, my heart heavy with dread. “Then that’s the loophole he’s found,” I say. “It doesn’t matter to Caledon if the potion kills the boy as long as the child lives long enough with the boosted power for Caledon to absorb it for himself.”
“Then we have to keep the boy out of his hands,” Damia says, looking to Harman. “Didn’t you say we just needed to disrupt one piece of Caledon’s plan, and it would all come tumbling down?”
“Well, rescuing this boy would certainly delay them,” Harman says grimly. “At least until he can find another solari child.”
I shudder, offering up a silent prayer for the boy, wherever he is.
“Gullert’s a long way from Qimorna, right?” Stratton says, as if he read my mind. “Could we still catch up with them?”
