Chương 183: Chapter 43: A Name on the Map

Selena listened to him, a cold, clear understanding expanding through her mind. Two Resonants, only two. They were a persecuted heretical organization whose philosophy was a far more powerful thread, yet they still harbored secrets that condemned them. In her heart, she sensed what would follow: a request, an invitation, another chain for her collection. But the request did not come. Instead, Corren spoke once more, his tone shifting toward something broader, more reliable, and more weary. —We...

heretics, outcasts who seek knowledge only for the betterment of society, are a single grain of sand upon the beach of power. —He looked up at the cavern ceiling, as if he could see through the solid rock to the layers of history and hierarchy weighing down upon them— The kingdom uses Resonants as a last line of defense, as living, bleeding tools. The kingdom has always possessed continuity, Selena.

Five thousand years, and the only constant, aside from the throne, is that among the known Resonants, the Crown holds at least thirteen under its control according to our sources. Plus, three from the Church of the Eternal Sap... or the Rotten Sap, whichever you prefer to call it. To me, they are the same thing: two faces of the same coin preserving the status quo. He poured himself a glass of water from a clay pitcher, taking a long drink to moisten a throat dry from speaking and from the weight of his words.

—I learned of your kidnapping, and I know it was the work of the Omnipresent Shadow. The name echoed through the room, laden with a new, sinister weight in this context. Selena nodded slowly, without surprise, allowing Corren to continue. —Unlike the Crown, we... owe you far more than you have already given us with that philosophy, which spread like fire through our circles. It gave us a language, a structure. It freed us from cages we did not even know held us.

—He looked at Selena, who continued to nod in silence, absorbing every word— So I suppose it comes back to you. You surely heard it from the lips of others. The master scribe rested his elbows on the desk, lacing his thin, pale fingers together. —Regarding the Omnipresent Shadow... unlike what the Crown said or did not say, we know something. We know that you arrived in Terracanto on a mission for them. We do not know what it was.

We do not know why they chose you, an heiress duchess; but it is clear from your confusion, from your search for answers even here with me, that you do not remember what you were ordered to do either. Your memory was altered or suppressed. —He paused, letting the implication terrible and liberating all at once settle— Which brings us to the original sender, the link that connected you to us, even if indirectly. Baron Scargoth. Selena frowned.

The name sounded distant, an echo from lists of nobles and maps of lesser fiefs. She had dismissed it so long ago, yet the bitter taste remained upon hearing it again. —A minor baron —Corren continued— near the border between the Duchy of Aelthria and the Duchy of Thyll. He is not rich in land, but he is in livestock. He is a specialized breeder of mollucapras. Selena's eyes widened slightly as she finally recalled her conversations with Theron and the scant information found in books.

Yet Corren spoke again, picking up the thread. —He made deals. Discreet deals, with cash payments that did not align with his normal sales. Furthermore, he received visits from men who were not merchants specializing in his type of livestock. —Corren looked at her directly, his lucid, exhausted gaze locked onto hers— We do not know who he was dealing with exactly. Our resources are limited, and Scargoth is careful. Yet the thread is there. If you wish to know, Selena...

if you want to unravel why the Shadow placed you in that wagon, why you lost your memory, and what you were supposed to do in Terracanto... you, as Countess of the royal court and Duchess of Solendra, with your titles and your access, must seek your own answers. We can give you the direction, the name; but the door... you will have to open it yourself. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Selena met his gaze.

The contrast with the king's bargains was stark now; the Path did not ask for her help in exchange for something. It was a simple return for what she had already provided. He had given her an object that saved her life; now he gave her a thread, thin but strong, that could lead her to the origin of her own labyrinth. A baron breeding mollucapras, a name, a mark on the map. It was more than she had possessed in months.

It was, quite possibly, the beginning of a truth, neither the Crown nor anyone else would ever grant her. —Beyond that —Corren continued, his tone losing the severity of conspiracy to adopt a warmer, though no less weary, note— you will always be welcome in the Path. Not as a Resonant, but as the philosopher you are, with that lucid, strange knowledge through which you view the world. He paused, and a genuine smile small, but real touched his thin lips.

His eyes, dark-ringed with insomnia, rested upon Selena's earrings, upon the pair of silver and garnet pieces conversing silently on either side of her face. —Though I will not deny it... one more Resonant among us would always be a marvel. A dangerous kind of marvel, but a marvel nonetheless. Selena left the room moments later with a scroll of fine paper concealed within an inner fold of her cloak.

It contained everything the Path's discreet resources had managed to gather regarding Baron Scargoth: the location of his estate, the names of his overseers, the patterns of his shipments, and the rumors of nocturnal visitors. A name that now, upon seeing it written, triggered a distant, newly vivid memory: she had heard it whispered with reverence and fear from the mouth of that tall, quiet man who listened to the Word of the Path the first time she, desperate and lost, had arrived at the cave in Terracanto.

The circle was closing, but instead of bringing peace, it outlined the contours of a new, darker spiral. She ate with Kaela, sitting in a quiet corner of the main cavern, sharing a bowl of thick, comforting tanner's soup. Little Run croaked at their feet, delighted with the small pieces of vegetables Kaela tossed to him.

Selena attempted to immerse herself in the simple joy of the moment, in the stolen normalcy of a meal between friends, but a shadow loomed over her: that of the hidden parchment, of Scargoth, of her erased memory. The conversation flowed, punctuated by laughter, as Kaela shared more anecdotes of her travels with the Bone-Singers, yet complete lightness slipped through their fingers like water.

Later, they bade each other farewell under firm promises to meet again, establishing a discreet location for sending and receiving letters: the old cave in Terracanto, watched over by the quiet eyes of the Path. It was a long embrace, heavy with everything left unsaid and with the hope that their paths, this time, would not part forever.

On the long walk back to the inn, the wind kept her company, as cold and somber as her thoughts, as tempestuous as the ideas stirring within her mind, though she gave form to none of them. She reached the inn just as night began casting its first blue shadows over the peaks of the Rualfis. She found Fjora and Samira awaiting her at the communal table, their dinner barely touched before them. Upon seeing her enter, both sat up straighter, reading a renewed determination and a different kind of fatigue in her face.

She had reached a single decision on the road back, so Selena needed no preamble. —Tomorrow, we set out for the ruin —she announced, her clear voice cutting through the hum of the inn— We cannot afford to lose any more time. We will study what we can in Ashkharum, and then, straight back to Kaelburg. We will only stay at the ruin for three days. I cannot... we must not waste any more time. There were no questions.

The Nordic warrior stepped away, a new task occupying her without a word to her lady as she walked directly toward the inn's counter. As she passed by, Selena overheard the guardian's gentle voice. —We will need provisions, and I also want our map improved —the sound of a chair dragging cut off part of her request— yes, at least ten kilograms of dried meat, and hard travel biscuits as well.

Samira, walking curiously alongside Selena's steps, simply scrutinized her with an inquiring gaze, as if attempting to decipher what could be so important to her. To the Sandstrohm, her lady remained one of the greatest mysteries.