Chapter Twenty-Six

A n afternoon spent in Cecelia’s secret archive left them with more questions than answers. Most of the texts in that room were from before the first Beitaran consort came to Ichorna. Rare histories to be found in this library, to be sure, but not helpful with regards to their current suspicions.

Evienne had spent the morning engrossed in a book of Beitaran folk tales that told stories of a group of immortals called Contrapensae. They were protectors of balance who seemed to go to extreme lengths to defend the magic of the world. Evienne had never heard of them before, but Orion seemed familiar with the stories when she showed him the book.

“The Contrapensae were said to be immortals, one hailing from each nation of Domhan na Rùin, that wielded unique magic on behalf of the old gods. Sometimes they remained hidden; other times, they served as advisors for rulers or simply wandered the land. We had many stories of them back in Beitar. One, in particular, took to wearing a large floppy hat and enjoyed putting on displays of fireworks for children in the villages he visited,” Orion said with a chuckle.

“What sort of magic did they have that was so special?” Evienne asked.

“No one knows for certain, but it was believed they wielded time magic.”

The three parted ways after a few hours, promising to continue their search as they were able without raising suspicion. Evienne pondered the implications of all she had learned over the past few weeks as she made her way toward her rooms to dress for the formal dinner this evening.

Her steps slowed, however, as she passed the hall that would take her toward the offices of palace officials who were not high-ranking enough to live in the palace proper, but still required a private workspace here.

She hadn’t paid all that much attention to Dominique’s career since they had divorced, but she had always been close to the queens’ affairs and likely still was, based on comments Aldith made here and there. Hers was one of the dozens of tiny offices, just a few paces down the hall.

She knew Dominique was still in charge of the Sangviere posted at the Centrale Dellumine. After her conversation with Lou the other day, it was worth at least taking a look to see if any of her recent work could help them along in their search.At the very least, perhaps she could find out why Dominique had moved those Sangviere that had been assigned to Lou.

Evienne tried to feel guilty at the prospect of snooping through her ex-wife’s things, but she found she couldn’t muster it.

Walking with purpose toward Dominique’s office door, Evienne grasped the cool metal of the handle and found it locked—annoying but unsurprising. She had hoped Dominique would be arrogant enough to leave her door unlocked, as if she had nothing to hide. She pressed her bladed ring into her palm, a small rush of magic pulsing in her hands, and she willed a strand of physical force to wind its way into the lock mechanism. It released with a click, and she slipped inside as the door snicked shut.

That little trick was one that had taken her a shocking amount of time to learn; and one she did not readily admit to having. Manipulating the physical world with blood magic, which was naturally drawn to living, not inanimate, things, was easier said than done. She had practiced tirelessly to acquire the skill, hating the feeling of being trapped or shut out. Better to let people think their locked doors were safe.

She took a deep breath as she surveyed the small space. It was incredibly sparse compared to the other rooms in the palace. Nearly every corner of Lucinne was filled with rich colors and textures, but this room was all harsh lines and bare surfaces, save for the bronze walls themselves.

The scent of cloves hung heavy in the air; it, too, was everywhere here in Lucinne, but sometimes it felt more concentrated. Dominique must have had her window open at some point.

Evienne stepped over to the bare desk and pulled out the top drawer, full of files, all labeled and organized to clinical perfection.

Most were records of the energy usage of the city, broken out daily. Some were more general reports, synthesizing the daily data into weekly or monthly charts. Nothing seemed amiss; Evienne had been to all of the official read outs since she took the title of High Sangviere six years earlier.

She continued scanning the files, pulling out one labeled “ Schedule” . Odd—there had been another folder at the front of the drawer that held the full staffing rotation for the Centrale Lumine. She opened the folder, doubting that Dominique had truly left an outdated document in her files, given the rigorous upkeep this drawer clearly underwent.

The document inside was formatted like all the others she had seen, and the dates on the schedule grid were the same that the other file covered. All of the days were the current month. She pulled out the other schedule to compare, and her brow furrowed as she stared at them side by side.

One schedule—the one from the front of the drawer—had the standard two-hour shifts for three Sangviere around the clock to channel magic into the system, with ten supporting guards on duty in the building for twelve hours at a time. The second schedule, however, showed shifts of eight hours populated with a single name each shift.

Something was going on at the Centrale Lumine, and Evienne needed to find out what.

·

“ W hat year was mage light invented?” Orion asked as he scanned yet another book of Beitaran folklore from Cecelia’s secret room.

The three had reconvened early the following morning to continue their work, and were now settled comfortably around Cecelia’s study, pouring over texts in the amber light.

“About two hundred and ten years ago,” Cecelia answered without looking up from her book.

“Do you know exactly what year?” Orion asked again, flicking his gaze to Evienne where she sat across from him.

“It was technically invented in 787 Domhan na Rùin Standard, but it wasn’t applied more widely until 801,” Cecelia answered, finally looking up from her book. “Why?”

Evienne held Orion’s gaze as he contemplated, a pit opening in her stomach as she slowly pieced things together. “And what year did the first consort arrive from Beitar?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“800 DnRS…” Cecelia answered slowly, catching up with the path Orion’s mind had taken.

“The train was built in 845 DnRS and was expanded to our outer provinces starting in 895,” Cecelia added, her inflection revealing her suspicion.

“When was it exactly that you all started to notice a decline in your magic, Orion?” Evienne asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

“The first documented account from one of our historians was in 863 DnRS” he answered solemnly.

“Fuck,” Evienne swore, standing from the couch to begin pacing. Cecelia heaved a deep sigh, the air puffing up her cheeks as she ran her hands through her already messy hair.

“Fuck is right,” Cecelia echoed.

“Alright, so clearly these things are linked—but how are we supposed to find out how exactly? Timing like that cannot be merely coincidence. No one that knew about the connection was writing about it based on how little we’ve found here in the library,” Evienne said as she paced the room.

“It seems like things didn’t get really bad until the Rail Dellumine expanded about a hundred years ago. That’s when the magic of the Tuanadair really started to disappear, right? Before that it was just weakening?” Cecelia asked.

Orion nodded. “That’s right; I agree with Evienne that the timing is too much of a coincidence to be an accident. We’ll have to keep searching. We can’t do anything without some sort of proof.”

Evienne sighed and said, “Unfortunately, we’re due for yet another function in an hour, so we will have to continue this tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow,” Orion corrected. “Tomorrow is the outing on the Rail Dellumine, remember? The trip to the coast?”

Evienne groaned; she had forgotten. “Right, the outing. Well I suppose you’ll at least get a good up-close look at the world-famous Rail Dellumine in all its glory.”