Page 65 of In the Ravenous Dark
I know I now have the final piece to my father’s puzzle. The final sigil in the secret pathway he wanted me to follow.
My mind is spinning. If my father intended these sigils to shield only against the seeping poison of the blight as I journeyed to Skyllea—to safety, to freedom—then they won’t be of much use if I’m unable to escape Thanopolis in the first place. And the force keeping me here is…
My guardian. The one whom I’ve suspected the sigils weremeant for all along. But Alldan seems to be telling me they could block out the blight, as well. Perhaps they’re a shield against both, somehow?
I need to make sure. And for once, Ivrilos isn’t around to eavesdrop. I can somehow feel he’s farther away than usual. Perhaps it’s my greater sense of his death magic or his underworldly essence. Not that I’m perfectly safe, but this is as close as I’m going to get until I can win entirely free of him. I still need to be careful.
Besides, Alldan is likely assuming my guardian is listening. He’ll want to be just as careful.
“There are a few here who believe that the blight didn’t just happen, like a drought or a cold spell,” I begin hesitantly, picking at my fingernails in my lap before I still my hands—Alldan’s are perfectly at rest. “I count myself among them. Maybe it comes from somewhere specific, and is made of something…”
“Darker?” Alldan suggests, almost casually. “It is not blood magic that our veils protect against, after all.”
He has to mean death magic. That must be what the sigils are meant to block out. Aside from the greater, frightening implication that the blight is caused by death magic, perhaps knowingly from within Thanopolis, as my father suspected, that means the same sigils used to protect against it can work on my guardian.
I want to test my theory this very moment, but Ivrilos isn’t here, and besides, if he learns I can shut him out, he might report me, shaky truce or not—and whatever confusing feelings lie between us or not. I can only try it when I’m ready to move; otherwise, the palace will come down on my head. Without Ivrilos to stop me, I’ll be more than formidable, but I can’t fight off all the wards in the city at once. As soon as I put my escape plan into motion, I’ll need to be quick.
What that plan might look like, I’m not sure. Not without Lydea and Japha weighing in.
Not without my mother.
“So the king understands the true nature of the blight, and is willing to join forces with you?” I ask. I shouldn’t care. I need to help myself before I can consider anything else. But Ivrilos said his family is evil, and for the king to know about the blight, to know that the death magic he so trumpets is the cause, to know that it originates from Thanopolis…
“Oh, I think he has known for a very long time,” Alldan says, seemingly without judgment. But the words are like a sheath disguising a honed sword.
“And you’re eager to make peace?” I press.
“We are eager to find allies.”
Allies that don’t necessarily include King Tyros. Maybe Skyllea will help me after all. Maybe Alldan will. I suddenly look at him in a whole new light, this strange prince sitting calm and collected next to me, while I’m anything but.
And yet Alldan has only given me a clue—an important clue—to what my father already knew. So why didn’t my father use these sigils to block out Ivrilos, flee across the blight years ago, and bring the truth to Skyllea? Maybe he grew too weak before he discovered them. Or maybe it’s something else.
“Shielding against the blight,” I start. “Do you know how it works? I mean, you said it’s a jealously guarded secrethere, but maybe…” I make a muddle of it, but I hope he understands what I’m asking. Talking with Alldan is like pretending to dance with Ivrilos—we’re making all the proper motions, but we’re really up to something else entirely.
Alldan’s expression darkens. “There’s a reason it took us much longer to create a veil of our own. There are certain practices herethat we find… distasteful… in Skyllea.” Bydistastefulhe meansabhorrent, and bycertain practiceshe meansdeath magic—I know enough from my father to translate. “It led Thanopolis’s mages more readily to the solution of the veil. You see, you must have apieceof what you wish to shield against. I believe bloodmages here worked with these… shadow priests… of yours to safely contain some of the blight. If one wished to create a similar veil, they would need similar… assistance.”
Both excitement and sorrow stab at me.That’swhy my father never used the sigils. He would never have touched death magic. It’s supposedly too dangerous for bloodmages, and he hated it, besides. And he never trusted any shadow priests or Ivrilos enough to ask for help.
But Ivrilos has given me something. A piece of himself. I don’t even need to find a shadow priest to assist me.
Suddenly I can’t sit still, no matter how exhausted I am. I stand from the bench and pace between columns. Underneath the arches overlooking the polis, I come to a marble balustrade and lean over it. I’m chewing my lip, trying to spot my home as Alldan joins me, resting his elbows on the warm stone. The sunlight practically makes him glow.
I can’t see my home from here, and I wonder if I’ll ever see it again.
Alldan may have already told me all he wants to share, but curiosity gets the better of me. “How did Skyllea create their veil without shadow priests?” I ask, watching the iridescent shimmer in the sky that’s our own veil.
He shrugs, his eyes shuttering. “If one wants a piece of the blight, it’s happy to oblige.”
He obviously doesn’t want to elaborate. He also hasn’t said their approach is safe. The blight infectspeople, as well, so did bloodmages in Skyllea knowingly expose—and perhaps sacrifice—themselves to erect a barrier against it? I shiver. It makes the weight of what Skyllea is attempting to do here in Thanopolis all the heavier.
I try not to think about the other person who wants to fix all of this. An amusing thought occurs to me before I can stop it: If Alldan could ever get over thinking of Ivrilos as an abomination, he might actuallylikehim.
And yet, what does Alldan want fromme? Why is he helping me? I’m sure he’s seeking allies, but there must be more to it than that. He’s a royal, after all, Skyllean or not.
I turn to face him, pushing back from the balustrade. “Are you enjoying your time in Thanopolis? I’m not much more familiar with the palace than you are, but if there’s something I can help you with…?”
“Thank you,” Alldan says seriously. “I appreciate it. Anything you can share with me about the culture of Thanopolis would be wonderful, or about the royal family that you think might be useful—in wooing Lydea, that is.”
