A hundred and twenty years earlier, King Elres II Doriene had killed all three of his heirs.

He had been a paranoid man, Elres the Second. Not entirely without reason—the other houses had been conspiring against him—but only because his paranoia had seeped into his reign like a weed, its roots eroding the foundations of the realm. In his old age, the paranoia consumed him completely. Possessed with fear that his children were plotting his demise, he called them to Kaewold Tower for a feast and beheaded them. Within a month he was dead himself, before the effects of his tyranny could boil over into rebellion, but the succession crisis that followed was arguably bloodier than a usurpation would have been. The War of Silver, it was called.

Artis Valonde, then a duke, won in the end. Newly crowned, Artis I found in his new castle at Kaewold a maze of hidden passages and escape tunnels, freshly installed by his predecessor in the event of a siege—for all the good it had done him. Jasi’s great, great, great grandfather decided to keep the tunnels in place, passing the knowledge of their existence down only to family and the most trusted of the royal guard.

It was through these tunnels that Jasi had instructed Liamond to bring Ancin to her drawing room. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d kept them waiting, only that Suse, one of her chamberers, had informed her of their arrival and that the council meeting had run late. When the discussion between her advisors finally ended, she lifted the bottom of her gown and made her way up the stairs of the Tower, passing servants and maids, what was left of her personal guard without Liamond in tow. The drawing room wasn’t her favorite in the castle. One of her least favorite, in all honesty. How her mother, her father’s mother, and his father’s mother had managed to spend much time at all in it was beyond Jasi’s understanding.

It was one of the larger rooms in the castle, behind the king’s drawing room and the throne hall itself. The ceiling, like many in the Tower, was lower than those in other castles. Vaulting made for difficult second floors, but there was beauty in it, and so scores of dark wood beams crossed from one side of the room to the other, strips of grey and beige stonework between them. The wooden floor was covered by a number of ornate rugs, luxuriously carved benches and seats and tables atop them. A hearth was pressed up against the wall opposite the door, flanked by two large windows overlooking the Shorough River far below and the forests and hills that stretched to the horizon beyond it. The walls were bare for the most part, broken by beautiful tapestries and, Jasi’s least favorite part of the room, at least a dozen oil portraits of her ancestors. The room was longer than it was wide, and between the door and the windows and the fireplace and the tapestries, there wasn’t much room for the portraits, but someone had spent a tremendous amount of time squeezing in as many as they could, until there was nowhere in the room one could go without feeling the eyes of long-since dead family members burrow into your skin.

One of the tapestries, far to the left, was rolled up—the ground-to-ceiling textile tied into a roll where the ceiling met the wall, revealing a hidden wooden door behind it. At the center of the room were two men: one tall, blonde, and well-built with muscle, the other shorter, slimmer, and sporting a messy tuft of black hair. A warmth rolled over her at seeing them, and a smile threatened to tug at the corners of her lips, but Jasi restrained herself. It was good to see Liamond—he had been gone only two days, but he was devoted to her, trustworthy. People like that were few and far between, especially these days. And it was good to see Ancin. They had been close, back in Gawic, and though that was years ago, what was left of her childhood reeled with joy in the back of her mind. For a moment, she forgot that he might have changed, that he might not be trustworthy, that half a kingdom was plotting her demise in one way or another.

The moment ended the instant Liamond saw her and knelt. “Your Majesty. I have done what you asked.”

Ancin bowed, pausing halfway at Liamond’s devotion, clearly unsure if he should kneel as well. He decided he should, and knelt alongside the knight. Jasi took a second to straighten her posture and spoke. “Thank you, Sir Liamond. You’ve done well.” She wanted to apologize for making him wait, but knew she couldn’t, not with Ancin here. He answered to her whims; it was his place to wait, and so long as she was unsure of how Ancin had changed in the last five years, she couldn’t risk undermining her own authority in front of him. Instead, she said, “You may both rise. I appreciate the haste with which you’ve carried out my order, Sir Liamond. But you must be very tired. Please, wait outside while I speak with Speaker Ancin and escort him to his lodgings once we’re done. Then, return to your quarters and take the remainder of the day to rest. I would see you at your best by my side tomorrow morning.”

He stood, bowed his head slightly to her at the dismissal, and lifted his bag—no doubt hefty with the armor inside—from where it leaned against one of the benches. “Thank you, my queen.” The floor creaked under his weight as he left the room, his feet thudding quietly on the rugs. The hidden tunnel’s door creaked terribly when he opened it and again when it closed, but once the drop-latch clinked back into place, silence fell over the room, leaving just Jasi and Ancin and the eyes on the walls.

He had stood back up at her command, and she took a moment to look him over. He’d barely changed since the years they’d shared at Gawic. He was taller, but not especially so, and his hair was longer though a bit less well-maintained. But apart from that, she saw the same diamond-shaped face, the same straight and striking features—now just dressed in stubble and not spots. His eyes, colored like moss, had changed the least. Only two major changes caught her eye—the bright red of a speaker’s robes hidden beneath a tattered cloak, and the lines of tattoos that ran from knuckle to nail on every finger of his left hand. She regarded them quietly for a moment before speaking. “I see you’ve passed your trials. You’re a speaker now.”

Ancin didn’t respond immediately. She could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. She’d chosen the words, her tone carefully. She washed away a layer of formality with them, inviting him to speak freely if he so wished. If he refused, or if his response was stilted, she would know that he feared her, feared what she might do to him if he was too casual. It would give her insight into how their relationship had changed, and how she would have to speak to him in the future to get what she needed from him.

‘How a man responds to power shows you nearly all you need to know about him,’ her father had said to Athyew, to his heir. But she had listened, like she always had, more than the brute that had been her brother.

When he finally decided to speak, Ancin’s voice was exactly how she remembered it. “You’re a queen now.” A pale shadow of jest filled his eyes with the words.

As friends, then. Jasi smiled. “The queen,” she corrected, somewhat stiffly. It would help if he were comfortable with her, but become a problem if he were too familiar. She motioned towards a side table with a baroque pitcher on it. “Please, pour us some drinks and then come sit. There’s much we have to discuss.”

She took a seat on one of the benches, gracefully taking the wine from him once he handed it to her. He faltered, slightly, lifting and maneuvering the pitcher. Fleeting pain came and went as he moved. Jasi filed the observation away, it would be a different point of conversation for later. When he had finished, he sat across from her, in a similarly cushioned seat. She gave him another smile. Jasi had maneuvered the conversation so far so that he would speak comfortably with him, but would still wait to be spoken to. It was her favorite stance. “I am pleased that you were able to make it here so quickly. I would say that Liamond outdid himself, but he’s always performed admirably. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never found an equal.”

Something on Ancin’s face shifted. An unreadable expression for anyone without the context clues to piece it together. But Jasi knew exactly what it was. She had sought it out and caught it on the first try. It was true, Liamond was a phenomenal soldier, an excellent guard, a servant for whom the word ‘reliable’ did no justice. But he was a pious man who was quick to act. Jasi knew exactly how he would treat Ancin. “How did you find him? Was he a good traveling companion?”

Again the wheels spun in Ancin’s head. She could see the social calculus he was performing. “I’ve…had better. Though, I’m sure he saves his best for when he’s on the road with you, ma’am.”

It was a part of the truth, but not the whole of it. So he was trustworthy, to an extent. Willing to tell the queen her favorite knight wasn’t all she thought he was, but not willing to tattle about their differences. A good man, though the slight hint of anger in his eyes let on more than he wanted. She took a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry to hear that. Tell me about your work. What has life in a reliquary been like?”

He placed his cup on the side table closest to him and grimaced, lending forward in the chair. “Forgive me, but what am I doing here, ma’am? Is there something you need from me?”

“Relax, Ancin. Can’t a woman long to see an old friend?”

“I have a feeling I’m here for more than just that.” His response was quick, almost immediate. And it was a good response, too. He was smart, Jasi could see, and comfortable enough to push back against her, even if only slightly. Things were going well.

But his question was a reminder of why she needed him, and that soured the wine in her mouth. In its sudden absence, she realized that she’d been having a good time. He was easier to read than almost anyone she’d talked to in weeks. And he was a friend. It was pleasant to speak with him again. It made her willing to share more than she should have to convince him to keep talking. Jasi cleared her throat. “In time. My councilors spent more time complaining about Bregelian trade routes today than they did breathing, so I’ve a reason to excuse myself from the midday meal. We have time to talk, so let’s take it.”

That seemed to quell him at least slightly. Ancin leaned on the back of his chair again. “Forgive me. It’s not that I’m not happy to see you again, it’s just…”

“Unnerving to be swept away to the Tower without reason. I understand.” She smiled again at him. “Your work. Tell me about your work. Are you still with Master Inghard?”

Ancin’s eyes seemed to gloss over for a moment. “I am, yeah.” He spoke softly, as if he had to force the words out of his mouth.

He hid it well. A passive observer might’ve thought he was simply upset that he wasn’t being told why he had been summoned, or that he was just tired from the road. But Jasi could see that he hurt. A deep, longing hurt, one buried in his chest, not unlike her own for her father. She saw herself in him briefly and pushed it away. She had promised herself that she would mourn when there was time, when it was appropriate. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t appropriate. She steeled herself for the next question, already knowing the answer. “I haven’t seen him since the last time I saw you. How is he?”

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There was a pause in the conversation before she got her answer. Then, Ancin cleared his throat. “Old. He’s getting old.”

No, he wasn’t. His mind was falling apart. She would’ve sent for them both if it wasn’t. But he was loyal, which was good. And he still wasn’t willing to lie to her, not outright. It would be seen if that was a good or bad thing. But again she saw the pain in his eyes, and a pang of guilt rolled through her for asking the question, for prodding the answer. But she needed to know how he would respond. If he would winge about his master or if he’d show that he was loyal. Jasi gave him a sympathetic look. “We used to be so afraid of him,” she mused. “He would get so angry if he caught us in the fields together, you away from your studies and me away from mine.”

He laughed. “Sometimes my knuckles still hurt when I look at daffodils. He would always complain when he got done with me that you were out there distracting me, that a proper lady ought to have better friends than a wayward silent.”

“Oh, please. My ladies-in-waiting were all so dull. Only Stona was ever worth spending time around, and then she was betrothed to a lord on the other side of the country. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I remember Stona. The bailiff’s girl. Betrothed to Duke Wulfa's youngest son. She was always so nice.”

“Wasn’t she?” It dawned on Jasi that she felt wonderful. A few of her ladies-in-waiting were still the girls she learned at Gawic with, and most of them were still just as insufferable as they had been back then. It was the first time she’d been able to talk to someone like this in…gods knew how long. “Oh, I miss her.”

“Maybe you should summon her to Kaewold next.”

She shot him a stark look and smiled slightly. “Don’t get too familiar. I can just as easily have Liamond drag you down to the dungeons as I can have him take you to your lodgings.”

He stiffened, but only slightly. “Of course, my queen. I meant no offense.” Light-heartedness still danced in his eyes.

“He was right to be upset, though, wasn’t he? I hear augury takes the most practice.”

Ancin shrugged and rolled his wine between his hands before drinking. “Not more than any other discipline, really. And definitely less than some others. I guess the spells are a bit more complex, but spells are always complicated.”

There was a point to the conversation; Jasi had a direction she wanted to go in, a destination she needed to reach, but briefly she was overcome by fascination. Magic, the Silent Language, the Godstongue—it was a child’s dream to bend the world like the Speakers did much like it was often a child’s dream to be a gleaming knight, save for the children taught that speakers were out to eat them, to use their blood to fuel spells and rituals. It was one of the reasons she’d so taken to Ancin when they met in Gawic, his field of study alluring to no end. Perhaps their conversation now could withstand a diversion or two to appease her interest. “Explain it to me,” she said.

He knitted his brows. “Explain what?”

“The Silent Tongue. My father never kept a Royal Speaker after Master Raffin died, and I can’t say I remember much of what you told me when we were fourteen.

“That’s a complicated question.” He shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. “It would take a long time to properly—”

“Simplify it then.” The demand had been a bit stronger, a bit colder, than she intended, but it seemed to work just the same. He straightened his posture and seemed to think for a moment before beginning.

“The Silent Tongue is a language. A written language, one whose pronunciations are lost to time, hence the name.” There was another pause while he looked for words. “ No one knows where it came from or who spoke it originally, but whoever they were, they made the monoliths before they vanished. There are a few theories as to who they were or why they made the monoliths, but no one can seem to agree, and not all of them hold up. Master Alyce had the best theory, I think, but it still has its problems—mostly that we need more physical evidence to prove—” Ancin stopped himself and gave Jasi a small smile.

“Simplified,” he said, as if to remind himself. “Sorry. No one knows who made the monoliths. But they’re still around, these big pillars made of pure nela stone covered with glyphs. As far as we can tell they don’t say anything specific and they’re not one big spell. Instead, the glyphs seem to be random on each one. Sometimes the same glyph shows up several times on the same monolith, sometimes once on a couple of different monoliths, and sometimes only once on a single monolith. There’s no real rhyme or reason anyone’s been able to figure out.

“But the glyphs have power. Each one relates to some…primordial element, some fundamental force, some concept of being. Spells come from stringing the glyphs together to create more abstract concepts or commands, or things like that, and years of research—mostly trial and error—have found that some glyphs have more than one meaning, or that their meaning changes when surrounded by certain other glyphs.” He seemed unhappy with his own explanation, and leaned towards her, left hand extended. Jasi moved in closer to see, curiosity and excitement running through her like a river.

“This one is the glyph for fire. It’s straightforward enough. But the rest of them,” he motioned to four other beautifully ornate symbols so rich with deal and shape that they almost made her eyes gloss over, “they’re more abstract. More concepts of will. Forgive me, I don’t really know how to describe them to you, the books I’ve learned their meaning from took hundreds of pages to impart their meaning to me.” He turned his hand slightly to highlight three glyphs on his thumb. “These ones are also more notional than not. The one at the base is a…command, I guess, the one above it one for existence, to some degree. Together, the three are a creation spell, but without more glyphs to define what’s being created,” he returned to his index finger, “or what’s called a ‘control ring’ to define how much of that thing is created,” now he showed her the tattoos on his middle finger, “they’re meaningless.”

Jasi arched an eyebrow, and without looking back up at him, asked, “But if you don’t speak it, and you need all three to cast a spell, then how do the spells on your hand work?”

“Touch,” he told her, pressing his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger together. “All spells need to be written. More complex spells need more glyphs, more definitions for the scope and scale of the spell—”

“But they’re so intricate. It must take forever to write anything.”

That got a small laugh out of him. It was short and rueful, and Jasi knew it wasn’t at her. “It does. It can take weeks, months even, to write out a spell. The glyphs have to be perfect, aligned perfectly, written perfectly…it can be a real pain. When you cast a spell, you touch it, and imbue the glyphs with your will. But your will, your energy, it’s powerful. Destructive. Whatever the spell is written on—we call it the conduit—has to be able to handle it, otherwise it will destroy itself. That’s why we use tattoos. Flesh, living flesh, can handle it without burning away. Chemora can too, but that’s expensive and rare, and greatwood can survive a few castings depending on how old the tree it was taken from was, but for small, useful spells, ones you use often and don’t want to have to rewrite every time like calling drinkable water or lighting a candle,” he pushed his thumb up both fingers, making a small flame dance on its tip, “the tattoos are helpful.”

Wonder rolled through Jasi’s mind at the fire. Jealousy scratched the bottom of her stomach, and she simply watched it dance for a moment. “And what about augury? Your discipline? How does that work?”

Ancin snuffed out the flame. “It’s more complicated. The end goal isn’t as simple as a little fire or a small gust of wind. It’s less tangible, more theoretical. The spells can be massive, even the simple ones.” He held up his right hand, back facing her, pale skin unmarked by the artist who had covered his other hand in the beautiful runes. “Most speakers, once they devote themselves to a discipline, use their right hand for spells related to their discipline, sometimes using the whole hand for just a single spell. But not even the simplest augury spell is small enough to fit on one hand. That’s why Master Inghard used to be wrapped in so many trinkets—they’re all talismans, greatwood and chemora etched with glyphs so he doesn’t have to rewrite the spells so often.”

Jasi shifted on the bench. It was captivating. How fools had convinced themselves that such power was to be shunned was beyond her. Her interactions with Prophet Sueda had almost always left her frustrated, though, the narrow-minded old woman chittering on and on about dogma. So perhaps she had some understanding of what type of ignorance was needed. She swirled the wine in her cup slowly, thinking over Ancin’s words. In another life, perhaps she would have become a speaker.

No. What misery that would be, locked away in a reliquary, surrounded by paranoid old men, obsessed with tiny scrawlings on ancient papers. Her fascination faded. It had been interesting, but it was time for her to return to the task at hand. Ancin had been brought to Kaewold for a reason, one beyond their history and her hope for trust. She finished the final sip of her drink and placed the empty cup on the side table next to her. “Augury is about information, yes? Fortune telling, scrying. Learning things about places beyond yourself?”

Slight surprise crossed Ancin’s face. She was used to such looks—often the lords at court would have the same look when she showed that she was not a ditz, that she held some knowledge of statecraft. Normally it would infuriate her, to be seen as such a helpless child, but for now it pleased her. She truly had little knowledge of the Silent Tongue, and it was fine for people to be impressed by what she did know. He nodded slowly at her. “That’s a very apt way to put it, yes.”

“But that’s not what your area of study is, is it? I vaguely remember you speaking about your studies with Master Inghard.”

Something foreign and uncomfortable seemed to take hold of Ancin. Jasi had been too direct, had let her hand show just slightly. She bit her tongue. He again nodded slowly, clearly apprehensive about her intentions. “Master Inghard’s research is about looking into the past, not the future. He thinks that it might give us more insight into the Silent Tongue. That it might let us see the First Speakers or restore the glyphs that have eroded away in the years since the monoliths were made.”

“And how have you fared in your research?”

“Slowly. He’s been working on it for as long as I’ve been with him. He thinks he has the right spell, but…” He trailed off.

Jasi didn’t give him a moment to recover. “But what?”

Ancin licked his teeth and looked at her. He was putting the pieces together and slowly figuring out why he was here. He was realizing that she might have already known more about him and Inghard than she let on. “But like I said. He’s getting old. I’ve had to do most of the research recently. Why did you bring me here?” The final question had an edge to it, a subtle anger. Perhaps Jasi shouldn’t have indulged herself, let him explain the Silent Tongue to her. He was clearly realizing that much of this conversation had been designed, and had been allowed to get comfortable enough to show her how much he disdained it.

But then…he had shown that he was trustworthy. Loyal. He had made her feel like she had a friend again. And he clearly wasn’t the type of person to put much effort into hiding himself from others. He was useful. Good to have around, in more ways than one. So Jasi ignored his overstep. It was time to let him know why she had summoned him. She met his gaze and pressed it. “There is a rumor going around. You may have heard it coming in, though I doubt Liamond would have let you dally in the city before meeting me.”

Ancin didn’t look away.

“It is, no doubt, provoked by my enemies within Erest so that they might see me dethroned. But I cannot investigate it. Not outright. Doing so might lend credence to it, give it life beyond what it is due. I cannot even be seen to have acknowledged its existence beyond a passing annoyance, like a fly, else my enemies might know that I am onto them.”

“That’s why all the secrecy with bringing me here.”

“Yes. Do not interrupt. The rumor is that I am illegitimate. That my father bedded a woman other than my mother, producing me.” A fire burned in her chest, even as she said the words. A fury at such a disgusting accusation built in her every time she thought of it. She knew that her anger wasn’t hidden. It should have been, and her father scolded her from beyond the grave, but she didn’t care. “I will seek out the filth who has started it. I will strike them from this world and salt their lands. But you…”

Her voice faltered. Revulsion turned her stomach at the thought of the rumor, but still at the heart of it was a seed of worry that it was true. It sprouted another root with every moment she thought of it. “You will perform your ritual. You will look into the past and see the truth of it.”