Page 107 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“I think this is wyarwood root. It’s a hallucinogen. Look at their pupils. These people are high out of their minds.”

Sure enough, when Blif and Klasto returned, I realized Max was right—their pupils were so dilated that they nearly consumed their irises.

Max and I exchanged a glance. I was almost certain we were thinking the same thing:I don’t know about this.

But we had come this far, and I didn’t have any better ideas.

So, when Klasto asked us to explain our predicament, I gave him the details, careful to omit things that we needed to keep closely guarded. Ishqa, apparently, had already given them some background. While I talked, Klasto circled,hmm-ing as he examined us like we were sick livestock. He squinted at the scars on my arms, pursed his lips at Max’s tattoos, and paused for a long time to stare at the gold on my palm.

“What is this?” he asked.

Blif said, without looking up from her book, “It’s a wayfinder.”

Klasto’s white eyebrows arched. “A wayfinder? How fun. Ishqa told me that he was looking for the Lejaras, but I didn’t realize you managed to get your hands on a wayfinder.” He smirked and added, “If you forgive my pun.”

Ishqa told him about the Lejaras? I was torn between being surprised and being annoyed. Ishqa had hesitated to tell Max about the pools of magic, but had apparently seen fit to inform a couple of drug addict Wielders about our mission.

My surprise must have shown on my face, because Klasto laughed and gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t look so concerned. Yes, of course we know about them. They’re legend, and we live in legends. The Lejaras, the three pools. One that embodies change, one that embodies life, and one that embodies death.”

Max and I exchanged another glance. That part was new information to me.

“That’swhat they do?” I said.

Klasto shrugged. “Who knows? That’s what the whispers say. But whispers have been wrong before. In fact, one might say there’s plenty of evidence that the whispers are wrong about the Lejaras existing at all.”

“If they existed,” Blif said, not looking up from her book, “someone would have found them by now.”

Klasto rolled his eyes. “So sayeth the non-believers. You are no fun at all.”

“So what… are they, exactly?” Max asked.

“They’re raw, powerful sources of magic that draw deeper than—”

“No, I know that part. But whatarethey? Are they things? Are they places? Are they literal pools of magic, like a lake?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, to which part?”

“Do dragons have green eyes or yellow?”

“What?”

“Exactly. You can’t tell me if dragons have green or yellow eyes, because they don’t exist. Or at least, no one has seen one. So, as long as that remains the case, then yes. They have green eyesandthey have yellow eyes. Therefore, the answer to your question, too, isyes. The Lejaras are all of those things, and none of those things, because no one has seen them. They are whatever your beautiful heart wishes for them to be.”

“Because they do not exist,” Blif said, and Klasto rolled his eyes.

“It’s nice to dream, though, isn’t it? But alas, we don’t have all night. So let’s begin.” He reached towards me. “May I?”

I wasn’t sure what he was asking.

“I won’t touch your memories, I promise,” he added. “That isn’t quite the nature of my gift, anyway. Your privacy will remain intact.”

Ah.

For all that times that I’d reached for the minds of others, it was rare that someone reached into mine. I wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea… but if there was even a chance it would help restore my magic, it was worth it.

I nodded. Klasto laid his fingers gently on my temple. I felt a strange pressure on my thoughts—not painful or even uncomfortable, but odd. It lasted for a few seconds, then he withdrew his hand.

---