Chương 34

The powerful always have a use for the powerless. Together, he said. Adhira ate her food. It was a bit too cold and unseasoned, but at least it was mushy. Her skills were many, but cooking wasn't one of them—much to the chagrin of the governesses at the Hollow Hold. Still, she forced down the food. It was fuel for what would come later. Travel. With him. Her eyes cut across the clearing to the boy. He was breathing deep and easy. Only feet away from someone who lied and used him… and he's asleep already.

He's too trusting. She had no intention of betraying Harker. In fact, she was relieved everything was out in the open now. Or so she told herself. Will he resent me in the morning? I gave him an out and he didn't take it. That means… something, right? Adhira stifled a groan and cleaned her pan out with a rush of Water. Sloppy remains blasted free, leaving only a pristine surface behind. Where are you Sejal? For once, I could use your advice. No doubt the severe woman would have a great deal of commentary to add.

Adhira would have sat through a thousand acidic diatribes if it meant her steward's return—and not just for advice about a boy. He just was so… calm. Even now, when he was clearly angry at her, he'd held himself apart as if the rage couldn't touch him. What was that like? Wrath was close as kin to Adhira, part of her as surely as her skin clad her bones. Aberrants gave her an excuse to let it loose, but it was always there, simmering just out of sight. Harker was almost cold. Not unkind, or ungracious.

Despite a thousand differences in manner and resource, he reminded her of the overachievers in the Hollow Hold. He bore that same iron discipline Adhira could never master. Yet underneath it all, there was a warmth to him. Perhaps she'd be lucky enough to see it on their way to Vodaten. If she could keep from fouling things further. With a disgusted sigh, she stomped out the fire and went to bed. Harker lay in the dark.

Adhira had put out the fire minutes prior, but she'd proceeded to roll around on her blankets for entirely too long. Eventually, however, she'd found some measure of comfort and drifted off. Crickets called from the dark, a sharp counterpoint to her soft snoring. Harker was awake. Even if it weren't for the kaffa sprout boiling his veins, he was entirely too preoccupied. He glanced over his shoulder. What a strange girl. She was frenetic and brutal in battle, but laid out on her bed roll with her mouth wide open…

he couldn't help but see the vulnerability. For all her violence, there was a disarming, disquieting kindness to Adhira. Now that her lies were revealed, however, Harker felt as if he stood on solid ground again. As much as he didn't like being used, the fact that Adhira had followed Law 2 was only natural. Law 2—Trust Others To Act In Their Own Best Interest. It was the foundational Law upon which all the others balanced. It was also what had kept Harker alive for the past eighteen years.

Avoiding attention and conflict was all well and good, but anticipating the reactions of others held it altogether. Traveling in such close proximity, however, was not the time to rely on anticipation alone. That was only useful when there was escape close to hand. The trail up the Gnarl gave him no such outlet. He shifted slightly, moving his hip away from a sharp rock.

Normally, Harker would adjust Adhira's impression of him and seize control of their interactions as best he could—it was something he'd always tried in Vale, though their attitudes toward him were always tainted by familiarity. With Adhira he was a blank slate… and yet something about the girl made him stupid. He kept getting angry, fumbling words, and speaking when he should stay silent. The shame of flouting his Laws burned at him, but he couldn't seem to reign himself in.

Adhira was useful—he couldn't deny that—and her kindness, as unnerving as he found it, was annoyingly genuine. Yet no matter how appealing her eyes might be, she was dangerous. Her words could hide any manner of things, and getting distracted by her voice or the way her curls tumbled across the nape of her neck— Ancestors wept! He shook himself. Don't even think about it. She has an axe and a savage glee in using it. He chased away his thoughts, burning them in the mental pyre where he sent all such things.

Law 1—Want Nothing. Focus only on the rankings, Ordeals, and securing my foundations. If he wanted to live, everything else was secondary. Harker nodded to himself, a plan already starting to congeal in his mind. The first step was to examine his options.

"Sovereign Sight," he whispered. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. His awareness sank into his Chartermark. He spiraled through lines of light, criss-crossing the vast expanse that sank deep into his flesh. He sought his Ordeals, but what first came to mind was the rankings themselves. Every one of them was being tracked, and even if it was only when they checked into a Charterstone, Harker couldn't stand the idea. The Spires want to put a leash on us.

He bared his teeth. To control anyone that took their Bargain. Rankings, Ordeals, all of it was designed to bring the chosen Talents to the Travelspires where the magisters could extract value out of them. Such was the way of the powerful. Adhira as much as admitted she was told the Nine Spires could track us through the Charterstones. If that was the case, then it was just as likely the Academy could do far more than they were admitting.

True power didn't need to lie, but that didn't mean they were telling them everything. Harker needed to figure away around the tracker, but he couldn't avoid the Charterstones. They reinforced his Stature, and he couldn't give that up if he tried—not if he intended to survive all the way to Vodaten. Somehow, he needed to find a way to block the mark and stone from giving away his location. Is there something in me communicating with the Charterstones?

Harker flared Sovereign Sight, pushing more Water into it than necessary. It gushed from him, leaking into the soil… and provided no benefit at all. His senses were filled with golden knotwork and inscrutible lines that arced across a strange vastness, but no hidden meaning leapt to mind. He reined back his Water. A deep ache radiated from his shoulder and elbow, the strain of it so much worse as he decreased the flow. Annoyed, Harker pivoted toward what he could perceive. Ordeals In Progress…

He found them easily, as with everything he found within his Chartermark. They leapt to his attention, their details rising to like wood on waves. Change, Resilience, Vigilance, and Stillness are my most advanced Ordeals so far. Judgment and Ambition are far behind, while the rest show no movement at all. If these are representing my accomplishments since taking the mark… Wrack and ruin. What would it have looked like if he'd taken it earlier?

Evading a Stitcher, Illwrought, and a whole company of mercenaries should have counted for something in the rankings. He shrugged the thought off, sending it to burn with the others. There was no use agonizing over it. What was done could not be changed. The future, however, was a different story. How can I use this? The Nine Spires wanted them to face down Aberrants, to refine their bodies, and race their way to the Travelspires. More than anything, all of that pointed toward growing the Chartermarked in power.

Yet only three of the nine fit with that idea. Maelstrom's Passage, Tidal Climb, and Drowning Sky. Power, Resilience, and Vigilance. Three qualities that would prove for a potent Aspirant of the Nine Spires. Why then, did the other Ordeals exist? How would one leverage Judgment, Harmony, or Truth? The last is clearly not about personal honesty. It must be measuring something else. The Trial of Truth, like Blackwake's Descent, must be poetic language. The same could be assumed for the rest.

Harker would have to experiment to discern more. Perhaps if he made a list of specific actions that could isolate each core quality in the Ordeals. The progress bars would let me check for any increases, and we could proceed from there. Harker hesitated. We? Was he including Adhira in that equation? That's a foolish thought. Besides, she doesn't need my help. Harker blinked. The Ordeals sat arrayed before him, glittering beneath golden stars and folded lines that stretched in strange patterns. One stood out.

The Ordeal Of Deep Lantern - The Trial Of Harmony - 1% That—it went up by a single percentage point. Why? Harmony could mean many things, but the word was about balance and unity. Harker groaned, realization dawning. It's cooperation. They're testing us on how well we work with others. It must have gone up because he decided to keep traveling with Adhira. Would it continue to go up if they remained a team? Despite the uncertainty, Harker breathed a sigh of relief.

The progress bars offered him a measure of control to what had so far been a chaotic journey. The knowledge that his actions could measurably increase any one of his Ordeals was potent. If used correctly, he could shift the balance of power in his favor. Harker liked that even more. He released his Talent. The Water ceased flowing and the burn from his tributary flared. It was growing worse. The Water, as gentle as he'd made it with his pulsing, was still wearing through his shoulder, elbow, and wrist.

There was a deep pain in the joints now, one he could feel as he flexed his arm normally. Refined Water was one thing—purified, it was the most potent source of power in all the world. The untempered Sea, however, was corrosive. The impurities alone were stacking up deep in his body, and the sheer pressure of its flow was enough to wear even stone to nothing. Harker needed a solution, or else he'd lose function with the entire arm before long. An errant thought flitted through his mind. A…

possibility existed, one that might solve his initial problem, and perhaps serve as a viable test for his Ordeal progress. The risk it presented, however… He paused, listening deeply. Adhira's soft snoring continued, unabated, and she was almost perfectly still. As quietly as he could, Harker stood up and crept into the forest. In ten minutes, he'd bumped his shin against enough rocks that he'd reactivated his Talent.

Eventually, he found himself far from the campsite, shielded by trees, thickening undergrowth, and the curve of two low hills. Far enough that Adhira couldn't possibly hear his whispered call.

"Stillwater."

"Human." The answer came back immediately, and close enough that Harker would've jumped had Sovereign Sight not been pulsing. The Eidhrin was behind him, sitting atop a low stump. His small legs kicked freely, and he wore a pair of small spectacles as he read from a familiar notebook. Harker snatched it back.

"That's mine."

"Mm." Stillwater folded his spectacles away.

"An interesting read." Harker frowned.

"You can read? No—" he held up a hand, forestalling the Gilken's annoyed grunt.

"That's not what I called you for." Harker folded his arms.

"I know how you can resolve your second debt."