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Chap had reacted differently to Li'kän than to any other undead. He had told Wy
Wy
Was Pawl a'Seatt another ancient one? Was she standing before another of il'Samar's «Children»? And still, he had been out in daylight.
He looked alive enough to her. Even Li'kän couldn't conceal the telltale physical signs of an undead—though Wy
Chane, still young for a vampire, also had to be wary of close scrutiny by anyone.
"You will not touch him," Wy
"He… you… simply accomplished what I would have done myself," Pawl a'Seatt countered, his tone hardening, "once I finally found it. Move aside now!"
Wy
They glinted, but that wasn't possible. It was only faint street light catching in his irises, the brief spark seeming too much in a dark room.
If Pawl a'Seatt was what Chane claimed, he wouldn't hesitate to toss her aside. She could think of only one reason he hadn't done so already: She was one of the sages.
"The wraith isn't an isolated incident in our world!" she nearly shouted. "Chane and I are among the few who believe something from the Forgotten History is returning. We may be among the few who can hinder or stop it! I will take him out of the city, far from here. You will never see him again."
Pawl a'Seatt turned his head toward her. A hint of disbelief—or disdain—wrinkled his smooth brow.
"I have too much to learn… too much to do," Wy
She slid her hand over Shade's face and shoved.
Shade backed toward the door, and Wy
Master a'Seatt followed slowly, his hard gaze still fixed on her. He didn't close or strike, only maintained the same distance between them.
Wy
Pawl a'Seatt stopped in the doorway.
Even as Wy
Chapter 20
Dawn was a ways off when Ghassan il'Sänke climbed the steps to his quarters above the guild's workshops. He had never been so tired nor wanted to be alone more than now. He knocked briefly before entering.
A glowing cold lamp rested upon his desk. By its light, Wy
"Wy
"Mantic sight?" she finished. "No, I'm too exhausted. Whatever is left in the scroll can wait."
Through the room's rear open door, Ghassan barely made out someone upon his bed. Wy
Once Chane was put to bed and¦fro Wy
Now, as he closed the door, Wy
"You went to speak with High-Tower and Premin Sykion," she said, "about what happened tonight."
He sighed. "Yes, and I thought you would be asleep by now."
"Did they believe you?"
"Unfortunately, yes," he said, "though they have only my word… and yours. But we have broken more guild rules than I can name."
"What do you mean, 'unfortunately'?"
Ghassan did not want to explain, but it was better that she knew. "I would guess they have believed you all along."
The opened scroll began quivering in Wy
"What you know," he said, "are things that no one outside our walls should ever learn."
Wy
"They treated me…" she began, choking on her words, "like an imbecile, like an insane little child!"
"They could not afford the panic," he countered. "Or subsequent denial and denouncement of the guild, should others believe you—or learn what might be in those texts. Truth would not hold against the beliefs of many that the world has always been as it is."
"What about the captain?" she snapped. "He survived… he knows!"
Ghassan sighed again and shook his head. "True, he now faces a crisis of faith, but not as much as you assume. The history taught by his religion, so much like secular perspectives, is false… but the philosophical teachings of the Blessed Trinity of Sentience are still sound. If he can distinguish that, then he may realize he has not truly lost anything.
"But by his example, we should not be so forthright with those who do not wish to know, do not need to know. The guild is safe for the moment. Translation can continue in a more expedient fashion."
"Yes, the project," Wy
Ghassan still found her to be a puzzle. She knew far too much, yet always remained determined to do what was right, no matter the personal cost. At the same time, she did not really want to thrust the truth in everyone's face.
Wy
"You struggle over more than just the illusory blindness of your superiors," he said.
Wy
"This," she whispered, and held up the scroll as well. "I think you know—or suspect—more than you've said."
"It's no more clear to me than to you," he answered. "All poetic metaphor, simile, and symbolism."
And his instinct to silence her forever returned.
Even a rumored hint of such abominations as the wraith, and what it might represent, would create panic beyond control. Suspicion and paranoia would grow, along with heated denial and possibly open conflict between differing ideological factions. Ghassan had seen such things before within his homeland and the Suman Empire at large. But Wy
She opened the journal, sca
"Can you guess at this at all?" she asked. "What is 'chair of a lord's song'?"
With a tired breath, Ghassan took the journal from her.
If Wy
"You have the last of it wrong," he said. "It is not prepositional but an objective possessive adjective, a form not found in Numanese. The first word is not 'chair' but 'seat, so it would read…"