There’s one thing Astesh missed, one thing that could never be understood by a newborn with less than a month of proper tutoring.
I need to assess their power levels personally. Desten may be able to hide his strength from a commoner with a stolen childstone, but he cannot conceal it from me.
-Personal notes of Pelys Sarosa, Treeglow 39th, 493.
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We returned to the archives again the next day, and the day after. With so much to look through, we couldn't possibly explore it all in one visit.
The fourth day, as we stepped out of the descent shafts into the room we’d all but taken over, someone stood waiting for us. She wore a black robe that seemed to absorb every colour from the area, as though she stood in a pool of grey emptiness.
“Stop,” she said, her voice resonating. My body immediately stopped moving without me having any say in the matter. Desten 3 froze beside me, equally powerless. “This is forbidden.”
“What is?” I asked. “This room?”
“You pore over ancient stories that ought never to have been preserved. They will bring you no benefit. Stop.”
I felt her voice again, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that some part of myself had shifted. I couldn’t say what it was, but I knew I’d been changed.
“We are watching.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped past us and out of sight.
“That was weird,” Desten said, shivering as the power she’d exerted faded, allowing us to continue walking forward as though we’d never stopped.
“Who was she?” I asked, glancing uneasily behind us. She'd disappeared entirely, no sign of her presence remaining.
Desten shook his head. “No idea.” He crossed to the shelves and began looking through titles again.
I moved to the nearest table to organize his notes. Most of them were useless. Whatever he’d been writing down yesterday had no relevance to us. Nothing here would help Desten 4.
I could no longer pretend that rearranging the pages was helping. “I think we’re looking in the wrong place. We’ve already got anything remotely relevant out of here.” And whatever forbidden knowledge we weren’t supposed to uncover, I’d rather stay well away from.
Desten 3 didn’t argue. He’d been retracing the same route, reading titles but not picking out a single volume. I got the feeling he was as spooked as I was by our mysterious encounter.
We collected our notes, replaced all the books in their proper places, and returned to the surface level.
“Now what?” Desten asked, and I heard defeat in his voice. He’d given up on having anything useful to do a long time ago. I’d managed to briefly rekindle his hope, and now it had been torn out from under us.
“We’ll think of something,” I said with forced optimism. “Are there other archives? Other places we can search for old maladies that might have been overlooked?”
Desten nodded and started listing off the major historical institutions across the world. Apart from Wightok and Raysh, every house had at least one major library or archive available as resources. Raysh had some private collections, but none open to the general public. It would take more pull than either Desten or I could exert to gain access to the Raysh collections.
Wightok was so small, insignificant, and generally useless that neither of us believed they’d have anything worth our time. They provided transit services, running the sky platforms and piloting Novarot’s animata, nothing artistic. Even their sports teams were consistent failures.
I didn’t want to return to Sarosa or Oros. Desten agreed to take those, if I’d go to Teshron and Novarot. He hadn’t fared well in either place without me, and didn’t want to go back. I agreed to the compromise, and we set out.
“Ah, weren’t you going to visit someone here?” Desten asked as we flew out from Vaerport.
“Oh, Desten 7. I almost forgot.” I still had his address written down, so it was a simple matter to adjust our course to head to his house.
Desten laughed when I said ‘seven’, and I thought he sounded almost smug. But he didn’t say anything and followed my lead.
Desten 7’s house was significantly fancier than Desten 3’s or Desten 4’s, but not quite up to the same standards as Desten 1. I heard faint voices from inside, so I approached and knocked firmly.
A servant opened the door, but seemed confused by our presence. “If you’re here to speak with Lerast, he isn’t at home right now.”
“We’re looking for Desten Varon, is this not his house?”
This seemed to only cause more confusion. “Wait here.” The door closed.
I glanced at Desten 3, who shook his head.
After a few minutes the servant returned, with a woman in tow. She was tall, her power a brilliant yellow that glowed with the most steady control I’d ever seen. No flickers, no pulses, just steady light. She held a very young child asleep against her shoulder, swaying gently back and forth as she walked.
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“You are looking for Desten?” she asked, her voice low but clear. “Why?”
“I’d like to interview him for a research paper I’m composing,” I said. “He’s one of the only eligible individuals in Vaerport.”
“Except he isn’t in Vaerport right now, nor has he been recently, nor will he be any time soon,” she said, still quietly, but with an edge of annoyance in her tone.
“Who’s Lerast?”
“That’s his business name. He wouldn’t want to be mistaken for the other Destens. They’re not known for their business acumen and it would be a mark against him to be associated with them.”
“Hey, not all Destens are irresponsible,” Desten 3 protested.
“Perhaps,” she said, noncommittally. “If that’s all, just leave your card and I’ll be sure he gets it if he ever returns.”
“If?” I pulled out one of my cards, quickly scribbled in Desten 3’s address in the space I left blank, and passed it to the servant. “Do you think he won’t?”
She sighed. “I can’t say. And even if I knew, I see no particular reason to tell you. Scholars. Did you ever stop to consider that living is more important than documenting it?”
Desten 3 looked hurt, but I shrugged. I’d heard worse. It wasn’t offensive. As a blanket statement it held some truth, perhaps particularly in Desten 3’s case. Though after having been forced to experience life outside of researching and composing documents I couldn’t say I’d choose it in future.
“Thank you. I’ll give your words some thought,” I said, as blandly and noncommittally as I could. “Could you tell me anything about Desten’s personality? Does he seem unusually driven, or—”
“I’m not interested. I’ll deliver your request, and that’s all. Good day.” She stepped back, still rocking the child, and the servant closed the door in our faces.
“Doesn’t look like you’ll get much out of them,” Desten said. “That’s fine. You don’t need to interview every single Desten to get an idea of the common themes.”
“I’d really like to.” I sighed and stepped into the air. I couldn’t tell him why, so I left it at that as we flew back toward Varonhold.
When we returned, there was a letter waiting for him. Ornately addressed, sealed with the Sarosa crest. He stared at it for a long moment, either shocked or in awe, then gently broke the seal and pulled out the invitation inside.
“A private gala,” he whispered. “In eight days. A final party to celebrate the end of touring season. For a handful of the most powerful people across the world, and … they’re inviting me.”
He sat down on a pile of books which wobbled precariously under his weight, mistaking it for a chair in his wonder. He stared at the page, reading it again, then broke into a wide grin. “This is wonderful! Astesh, can you believe it? They have been listening! Here I thought we were shouting into a void, but I was right. People do want to change things! This invitation is proof. If the most important people are all going to be there, there’s no reason to send for me unless they’re ready to talk through our suggestions for the future!”
“That sounds great.” I tried not to seem unimpressed. “Will you be able to handle the pressure?”
“It’ll be fine.” He passed me the page. “See? It says I can bring you along! It’ll be the perfect chance to push for real change.”
I nodded, not really listening as I read the invitation. It did say he could bring one or two others if he desired. But the location bothered me. It wasn’t any of the official major event locations, even the private ones we couldn’t enter, just a regular house number.
And then I read the signature at the bottom, and my unease grew.
Pelys Sarosa.
I had a pretty good idea what this was about, and I seriously doubted it was to discuss creating societal change.
Pel was impatient, tired of waiting and playing it slow. He would gather all the Destens together for one last party, where he could use the pieces we’d gathered and push them until the killer broke.
It was a good idea, if not for the fact that no killer would ever put himself in a private Sarosa gathering after what he’d done to Fylen. He’d escaped detection or notice by anyone this long, he certainly wasn’t going to fall for something as simple as a party invitation, however fancy.
So Pelys would have a houseful of innocent Destens, and probably do his Pel thing to force them into cooperating. Cause an interhouse incident and ultimately gain nothing but alert killer Desten that his name was out, negating the one advantage we had.
At least we had some time to formulate a response. I didn’t doubt Pel’s party would give me some insight into the Destens, maybe enough to rule out a few more of them for good, but it felt like a rash move.
“I can’t,” I said, paper dropping from my hand. It settled on the floor, out of place in its extravagance among the normal books and papers. I couldn’t stop staring at it. “I can’t go back.”
“What? But you must! I can’t do this alone, you know I can’t.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I can’t let an opportunity like this go by. Pelys is a Sarosa fourth! This is the kind of exclusive invitation people go their whole lives without receiving! You wouldn’t believe the favors I had to promise just to arrange a meeting with him.” He looked up, happy and eager. “This is because of you, isn’t it?”
Right. Desten didn’t know about our falling out. Still … “Yeah, I suppose it is.” In a way. If I hadn’t heard the name Desten so long ago, then this particular Desten would have remained safely obscure. A harmless eccentric.
“People like him never tour on the circuit with the rest of us,” Desten continued, his enthusiasm undiminished. “I never imagined I’d have a chance to talk to him directly. Who else do you think is coming? You must help me prepare a solid argument for our theories.”
I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t think it’ll be that kind of party. I really think you should stay home.”
“What? No! I can’t turn it down. Don’t you understand? This is an invitation from a Sarosa fourth. It’s… it’s barely a step beneath a summons from the reirn. You don’t just ignore something like this. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
Oh. Maybe killer Desten would show up after all, if it was such a social imperative. If not attending would be a complete giveaway, if no one else would dare refuse.
I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere near that party. If Pelys fought killer Desten, they’d probably level the building entirely. And I couldn’t guess who would win. Both were so far beyond my own level that I didn’t even know what they were capable of.
And then there was another thing. What would Pel’s reaction be if I showed up at his fancy suspect party? Would he duel me again on the spot? Kick me out? Tell everyone my secrets? Or just watch me with quiet hatred and plot vengeance for another time?
I took a deep breath. No, I couldn't allow my fear to control me. I’d decided to see this investigation through to the end, and that’s what I would do. My life was over. I had to remember that. I was already living on borrowed time, doubly so now that Pelys could have me executed or disappeared for what I’d done. All that remained was to do something worthwhile with what time I had left.
I knew I’d regret it the moment I said it, but if I were going to act as a true friend to Desten 3, I couldn’t abandon him. If I really truly wanted to know the truth, this was my best chance to find it out.
“Then, yes. Of course I’ll come with you and keep you company,” I said, sealing my fate.
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