The feeling of overwhelming threat vanished almost as suddenly as it had appeared. Whatever brief flash Jair’s intuition had overlapped with was gone almost at once.

If he hadn’t been standing in that exact spot at that exact time, he probably would never have even noticed it.

It felt so familiar. But not Hyperion. Was it?

He frowned, but It wasn't coming to him.

“You okay?"

Jair paused, blinking over at Ran. “You haven’t left yet?”

"I was about to, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jair stilled, the words triggering a new train of thought. "That’s who it was. Sekir."

"Sekir? You mentioned that before but…"

"Yeah. Sekir is a very important, very dangerous part of this whole mess. He's one of the strongest and most cunning people I've ever met. If he was here…" Jair shook his head, trying to think through the implications.

He never had been able to trace Sekir's movements prior to when the sorcerer came out of the shadows and took over the kingdom. If they’d somehow stumbled upon something that had Sekir involved an entire year early? This was invaluable information.

Jair took a quick breath. “You should go. You really should not be seen here. Go check in with your people at the school, see what you learn from their end. I'll investigate this."

"You sure? You don't look all right."

"I'll be fine. Promise. This is exactly the sort of thing that I need to do personally. I'll be fine. If something does go wrong, do your very best to find me before the river. And, add ‘Sekir was at the Hyperion office’ to the information that you tell me if something goes wrong and I'm killed before you can revert us."

"Okay." Ran wanted to say more, wanted to protest, but didn't. With one last concerned glance, he turned and walked steadily, despite his injury, away into the city.

Jair waited until he was well away, then stepped forward to bang on the door.

No one answered for a long while, forcing him to knock twice more. This wasn’t a public office, with no receptionist or door watcher responsible for receiving guests. But eventually a Hyperion guard opened the door, wearing his full uniform of white and red.

"What." The demand sounded flat and infectious.

Jair folded his hands together into his sleeves and gave a half bow. "I'm here to see Yast Mebort. I am his pathmaker and the whispers of fate have promised me that this is where he may be found."

The Hyperion guard’s expression didn't change. He grunted and closed the door in Jair’s face.

Well. That was a good sign. At least he hadn’t been dragged into interrogation on the spot.

There was a possibility of things going terribly wrong, but like he told Ran, there was no real failure state here. Unless for some reason they killed him on the spot, but that seemed incredibly unlikely.

Jair waited patiently beside the closed door, maintaining a pleasant smile the whole time.

It quickly became obvious that he’d complicated matters significantly. Had they already been aware of him? He couldn’t think of another reason for them to take this long deliberating. Normally, they should have either said ‘Yes, come in,’ or sent him packing. This prolonged wait felt like a trap.

Not that he would consider backing out of it. Traps were made to be explored, not avoided.

Jair’s musing was finally interrupted by the Hyperion guard opening the door at last. The man grunted with a quick head gesture of ‘come on in,’ standing inside the door.

"Thank you. Where is Yast Mebort?"

"We will bring him to the interview room. You say you are his pathmaker, correct?" The man started walking and Jair followed.

“I am.” He peered cautiously at the face of each guard he encountered. There were several of them, all of whom glanced at him curiously. He doubted any of them would be Sekir, but there was little enough to go on that he wouldn’t discount any option. Flashes of Sekir’s recent presence continued to come and go as he walked through the hall, faint traces that immediately disappeared and could not be recaptured.

"Then as his pathmaker, I suggest you encourage him to cooperate with our investigation."

"Indeed? Has he been uncooperative?"

"He has been obtuse. He is not being obstructive exactly, but he has been far from helpful. We know he was present, yet he refuses to say anything more specific without referencing his pathmaker." The man gestured with two fingers at Jair. "You are here now. Encourage him to answer our questions."

"You have a translator?"

"We have a translator." Veor was far from the most well-connected of continents, and it was known for its relatively insular ways.

This far south, not many people would bother learning Zakvari. Especially since most elves refrained from leaving their own places without having already learned the language of the place to which they were going. Yast was something of an anomaly in that Jair had brought him out of his territory and into a foreign one without giving him time to properly prepare as any ordinary elf would.

Jair nodded. "I will speak to him about it."

His escort opened a door. "Then wait here. I'll go fetch him."

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Jair stepped into the small room, impressed with the accommodations. Though simple, it had a table and two seats, a comfortable rug on the floor and a very nice looking mana lamp on the desk. They’d done quite well for themselves, coming out with such a well-appointed holding room despite their foreign circumstances.

When Jair sat in the interviewer chair, he nearly jumped. The afterdrift of Sekir’s presence that he had felt briefly outside was stronger here. Very strong. Sekir had been here, in this very chair, within the past day. And he’d been using magic.

Jair had to make it out of this one. This information… he’d need it.

His thoughts and rampant speculation were cut short by the arrival of two guards escorting Yast. One guided Yast to the chair opposite Jair, while the other stood by the door.

The elf lit up, clearly relieved when he saw Jair. "You came! I told them to bring you. What is going on? No one will tell me, apart from making vague allegations about my being a criminal."

"Did someone else speak to you?" Jair asked urgently. “Here, in this room?”

Yast nodded. "Sjorlain, their interpreter. He asked a lot of questions, but did not tell me much of what the problem was."

"No one else? Did anyone else sit here that you saw?"

Yast shook his head.

It wasn't definitive proof, there was every possibility that they'd use the room for something other than this one specific person, but there also were not a lot of people being held by the Hyperion in Astralla City at any given time. The chances of Yast being the focus of Sekir's presence was… fairly high.

Jair supposed the best way to ascertain the truth would be to start out by preventing this from happening and see what happened. If Sekir showed up regardless, Yast’s capture wasn't related. Otherwise, it would help narrow down what was going on with Jair’s current nemesis.

But first, setting aside the future sorcerer-king, there was the question of what to do in the past to prevent this outcome in the first place.

"How did they find you?"

"I don't know. We were not followed. They came to the house and didn't seem to understand anything I said. But they were very sure that I was the one they wanted.”

So. They didn't know Yast’s name before they captured him, but were able to find it out afterwards.

That had some interesting implications, but Jair wasn’t sure if it narrowed things down enough. The fact that the Hyperion had gone to Yast’s house directly, rather than followed him from somewhere or grabbed him upon departure was a troubling revelation. There was little enough for them to go on, and it felt as though he were missing something. Nothing in what he’d learned today was enough for them to track Yast down so quickly.

They haven't made any specific mistake, hadn't left a trail of breadcrumbs for the Hyperion to follow. So, what, then? How had they done it.

Next time he would rejoin Yast immediately after rather than leave him unprotected, observe personally.

“And no one here speaks Zakvari?"

Yast glanced at the pair of Hyperion guards standing on either side of the door. He shook his head. "No one understood me except the interpreter they brought."

"Describe the interpreter."

"Short, a little shorter than you. Heavy, lots of muscle. Looked like the sort of person who would be winning every match in a combat trial."

Jair mulled this over. He had seen Sekir in multiple different forms, but never one similar to what Yast described. Either this was another of Sekir's tricks, or the two were unrelated.

Well. He’d need to investigate further before making a definitive call either way.

“Will I be leaving with you?” Yast asked hopefully.

“Not at this time, sorry.” Jair smiled wryly. “I’m just here to ask questions.”

“Do I get to ask any?”

“If you want to. I don’t know much about the situation.”

“What should I be doing? Is this part of the path you’ve seen?”

“It is. First I need some more information, and then I’ll get you out of here as quickly as possible.”

Yast nodded. “Then ask.”

"Describe your actual capture in as much detail as possible. When, where."

Yast did so, his Elven recall for details showing its full value. He’d been in his rented room, sitting and working on a weaving, when the Hyperion came calling. They didn’t hesitate to break the lock on the door and, when he clearly didn’t understand whatever instructions they’d given him, proceeded to just physically drag him away.

Nothing particularly stood out, but Jair committed all the details to memory anyway.

He didn’t mention anything about the actual escape, or their reason for being in the city, keeping the discussion focused on the events of Yast’s capture.

Once satisfied, Jair stood, ready to depart. He had a solid idea of what had happened, sufficient they should be able to either avert it next loop or be present to witness it personally. He would probably do one of each.

However, one of the Hyperion officers blocked Jair’s way. “You done?”

“I am, thank you.”

The man opened the door, gesturing for his partner to come in and collect Yast, while continuing to obstruct Jair's path. "Before you leave, we would like to ask you a few questions."

"Certainly." Jair sat back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head. "Ask whatever you need. I am at your disposal."

The Hyperion guard took the seat opposite Jair, the one recently vacated by Yast, and placed a folder on the table between them.

When the man flipped it open, Jair recognized his own portrait and several lines of descriptive text.

"You are a student at the Astralla Institute, are you not?"

"Of course I am.” Jair tapped the distinctive uniform robe he wore, then raised one leg above the tabletop to prominently display the school logo over his thigh. "There's been a lot of chaos lately though, and I wanted to check on my Guided here. After he was falsely accused of interfering in whatever this all is…" Jair waved a hand to indicate the city as a whole. "He's far from home and very confused by this all."

“I’m sure. Where have you been the past day?”

“Staying with a friend since the Institute was proven not to be secure.”

“Another criminal friend, is it?”

“What do you mean ‘another’, I don’t have criminal friends.”

“Who was this friend, then?”

“Ran Serin, you know, son of Ajriol Serin. He’s pretty local.”

The guy gave a noncommittal grunt, made a notation in his folder, and looked back up at Jair. “What did you see of the incident yesterday?”

“I saw very little. There were a group of people who went in to Administration, but I didn’t think they were anything worth worrying about. Only later when everyone was talking did I realize that might have been the thieves.”

“Who exactly were you talking to?”

Jair listed off a handful of students who he’d interacted with in the past day, though he hardly had done any socializing outside what was necessary.

The interrogation continued in that vein, with Jair deflecting and avoiding any hint of incriminating himself or his fellow thieves.

After the man realized he wasn’t going to get anything more from Jair, he closed his folder and shifted the topic.

“Please provide a translation of the conversation you had with your… friend Yast.”

“It has been many minutes since then, I don’t know if I can remember it all.”

“As much as you can is sufficient.”

Jair saw no reason not to comply, and gave them a translation with moderate accuracy. If they already had a translator, they probably also had someone standing by to record the exact phonetics of what was said. He couldn't hope to fully deceive them, but any minor inconsistencies could be written off as a failure of memory. Very few people memorized entire conversations after all.

With the formalities taken care of, Jair signed himself out, received a receipt for his services… apparently he would be paid for the trip? A token amount, yes, but he had half expected to end up locked in the cell next to Yast, so receiving payment for his visit instead was a pleasant surprise.

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