Onder looked anxious at breakfast and Alize could not help but notice that he did not touch his food. She shifted her gaze to Davram, who stirred his eggs unconvincingly.

“Are you two having second thoughts about removing Onder’s shield?” Alize demanded.

Both men regarded at her almost as if they had forgotten her altogether.

“A Sargon and a Mage?” Alize goaded. “You were born for this.”

“And our Hrumi is not afraid?” Onder asked.

“Wise men fear what they know, and fools fear nothing. I certainly know nothing, and though I hesitate to confess myself a fool, I refuse to fear what I don’t know.”

“So that’s a ‘no.’” Onder said, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile.

Davram shook his head as he repeated her words softly, saying finally, “Fine, you beast of a lady. Let’s get this started.”

Onder had spent the previous day locating a suitable place to remove Alize’s magical shield, and had selected a room in the recesses of the stables.

As Alize breathed in the smell of damp hay and horses, something caught her eye – a bay gelding with a high set neck and a thin coat reflecting a metallic sheen. A Hrumi-bred horse. He was younger than Josoun, so the Hrumi in Kell’s prison was likely young too. Alize lingered, not wanting Davram and Onder to catch her examining it. If they noticed her curiosity, they said nothing.

When they reached the small room, Onder lit a single candle. The light bounced off the saddles, and reigns, as if it had the power to stir the dust caked on the gritty stone surfaces. “How long shall I leave the shield undone?” Onder asked Alize.

Alize straightened her posture. Davram and Onder looked positively spooked, and it made her more determined to appear calm. “I guess I’ll let you know. I may need some time to see everything.”

“Well, then,” Onder exhaled, “are you ready?”

Alize leaned against the counter before nodding. She pulled Idir’s white magic to the forefront of her consciousness.

Onder spoke a word of power.

The shield protecting Alize’s mind disappeared like a wispy veil, exposing the world around her as sharply transformed. Everywhere she saw men and women, isolated, each carrying various amounts of echoes with them. But as she glanced wildly from one to another she realized they were all regarding her with morbid fascination. And suddenly one man filled her vision – the man she had seen whilst sick with the gray magic, his sneer as familiar as the features on his face. But his anger was new, so livid it rendered him nearly inhuman.

“The girl is visible!”

The words reached Alize out of time with the movements of his mouth, and the space in her mind swarmed instantly with other figures, their magic tinted gray and their stares menacing. Together they reached for her.

Alize tried to retreat but their magic tangled with hers, prying over the landmasses that separated them. She could feel the distance between them, sensing proximity from some that scalded her courage. Their pull surged, approaching a force more powerful than she could withstand.

“Reconstitute the shield!” Alize shouted, stumbling forward, as if she could escape the onslaught. She could feel the gray magic bearers withdrawing information from her while she fought to clutch it safe. The word Venin pulled from her mind, accompanying the smell of horses.

“By the gods put it back!” Alize screamed. One woman’s calm face framed the savage smile she gave. The same Conjurer from the forest. She stood within the gates of Venin, oozing gleeful anticipation. But Alize had not been her target – the face of another echo bearer flashed in Alize’s mind just as Onder shield restored around her.

Alize shivered where she had landed on the floor, her cheek pressed to the cold stones. The vision of the other people clawing at the shield faded as she forced the white magic back into the recesses of her mind.

Alize pushed herself up, panting. “We have to get out of here before she comes.”

“Who?” Davram asked. He stood supporting Onder, whose eyes rested unfocused in pale skin.

“A very strong Conjurer.” Alize said her words evenly, but her heart thumped wildly.

“Running will attract her attention.” Onder muttered. “Will she attack us if you hide?”

“If she finds me she’ll kill me, Onder!”

“Will she attack a Mage?” Onder asked, drawing a deep breath.

“I don’t know!”

“Then come, Alize.” Onder led her into one of the horse’s stalls and pushed the horse aside. Alize wiped sweat from her forehead and concentrated on standing her ground as she waited. “I picked this place for many reasons.” Onder told her. He pulled open a small trap door in the floor. “It also has some good hiding spaces.”

Alize dropped herself down and Onder closed the latch over her head. By the smell it was a storage place for saddles. Alize barely registered jostling them in the ensuing darkness because the footsteps above her head held her attention. She stood away from the hatch, muscles tight, planning always for the worst.

“Mage Onder,” a rumbling female voice rang out. It did not sound like a greeting. “You have been performing magic.”

“Mage Amrea, I’d heard you were in Venin. My greetings and well wishes.”

“Spare it old man. Where is the girl?”

“I beg your pardon,” Onder’s voice rang out lightly, “Sargon Davram was just showing me his horse-”

A sharp snapping sound cut off Onder’s words and Alize sat down where she stood and hugged her knees to control the trembling of her body. Above there was only silence. Later Davram would describe in whispers what had happened. The magic that Magi Amrea had launched at Onder hit him hard but did not penetrate his magical defenses. Then Onder had jabbed his staff in the floor and Amrea had crumpled, not dead, but useless for the moment.

When the hatch opened Alize squinted into the light while Onder reassured her of safety. She helped Davram move the unconscious Amrea into a stall and together they hurried from the stables.

“Her echoes are bound with the gray magic,” Alize told Onder lowly as she bent under his shoulder to help him walk, “I saw it. We have to find the person that she was targeting in Venin.”

“She’s a great Mage,” Onder said in wonder, “I don’t know how-”

“It doesn’t matter right now! She’s under the pale’s man’s sway and she’s hunting echoes in Venin. Davram,” Alize looked to the Sargon who supported Onder’s other shoulder, “do you know a man – he’s elderly, dark skin - with a birthmark on his neck, here.” Alize drew a circle with her finger over the area just under her chin. “Likely someone with power?”

Davram stared at her wide-eyed before responding. “Was he also wearing a crown?”

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Alize felt her pulse quicken once more. “Possibly.”

“Nocturne.” Davram cursed, “how could a Mage dare attack Prince Jorin?”

But Alize’s thoughts were already elsewhere. “And an earthquake is coming. I understand it now. The Conjurer, the pale-faced man, his gray magic can only bind to the echoes when he loosens it from the bearers. That’s what the earthquakes are.”

Alize spoke rapidly as they entered another building, its massive walls thick and studded weapons of wars waged long ago. Inside narrow columns of alternating white and brown marble supported to a high, ornate ceiling.

“That’s why the echo bearers feel the earthquakes – their magic gets loosened from their bodies.”

“Slow down Alize,” Onder pleaded.

“Amrea can take the echoes against the bearer’s will but they still have to die to release them!”

“Amrea was going to kill Jorin?” Davram demanded.

“She’s a Mage!” Onder repeated in shock, “She can’t even offer a minister advice about politics, let alone assassinate the High Prince!”

“She’s possessed, the gray magic is controlling her,” Alize following Davram’s lead as they all turned together. “How long will she be unconscious Onder?”

“Not long.”

“Well hopefully past the earthquake. Now, how can I get to Jorin?”

They entered the Great Hall where Jorin held his court. Even if Alize had not seen him in her mind’s eye, she would have been able to pick out the High Prince immediately, since everyone in the room was oriented towards him.

He sat in an elevated chair, comfortable despite his bowed legs, evidence of years spent on horseback. His hair was gray, his skin wrinkled, and Alize recalled Kell’s words, Jorin is one of the rare High Princes that lives long enough to see a grandchild grown. Had he consumed Hrumi souls to manage such a feat? Alize cast the suspicion from her mind. For the moment, she needed to prevent him from passing his echoes to any gray magic bearers.

Lucky for him, that amounted to saving his life.

Onder sank onto a bench and Davram caught Alize’s sleeve before she strayed into the fray. “I could introduce you to Prince Jorin as Onder’s niece. That way you’d get close to him – but what exactly are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to call his magic. Idir gave hers to me, but with an earthquake loosening it, his echoes will come to me anyways. I can feel them already.”

Davram and Onder looked astonished.

Alize continued, focusing her gaze away from the men and onto the High Prince. “And then I’m going to take the echoes to the Eastern Temple, and give them to the Priestess.”

“You learned all of this right now?” Onder asked in disbelief.

“I am the bearer. The Conjurer with the gray magic, the one I see without your shield, he knows it – the magic is attracted to me, not him. That’s why he has to bind the echoes to make them usable for him at all. But I can collect the echoes, from everyone. It’s safer to give them to me than let Jorin bring his to the Temple himself. They’ll kill him. They’ll kill him today.”

“But they’ll kill you too!”

“They’ll have to find me first. I’ve got Onder’s shield.” Alize said the words under her breath as she studied the High Prince. He looked irritated as he argued with the man before him. When the man turned Alize recognized Kell’s profile.

“Wait here,” she told Davram, and abruptly left the Hall.

Alize had barely any time to process the enormous amount of information she had seen while Onder’s shield was down, but one Kogalok contingent heading west from the Silver City loomed large in Alize’s mind. Their leader brimmed with corrupted gray magic and his intentions bent towards a single end: killing the leader that held the echoes of the Hrumi Western Clan.

Celilie.

Alize pressed through the crowd outside, eyes peeled for a building with bars in the windows. It was not far. Dull granite constructed the town jail that housed Kell’s miserable prisoner. By sheer luck it was right next to the stables. Alize hastened her footsteps.

“Milady,” the jail guard greeted when she entered. Alize walked directly to him and slammed his head against the wall behind him. He crumpled, unconscious. The look of surprise in his eyes almost gave Alize pause, but she could not be distracted from her task. As she entered the passageway, a second man approached and she similarly disabled him. Her hands trembled as she moved forward.

Alize found the Hrumi quickly enough. She lay on her side pathetically but sat up to attention when Alize unlocked the door. Alize vaguely recognized her, but could not name the girl and doubted she would be able to place Alize in her own memory.

The prisoner sneered and then lounged when Alize came within range of her chains.

Alize swung her to the ground and leaned into her ear. “Listen well because I haven’t the time to say this twice. Your horse is in the stable next door. You will leave the city now and find Celillie. Tell her – listen! Tell her a Kogalok Conjurer is coming to kill her – he is bringing an army to face the Hrumi and he could kill the whole clan. Do you hear me?” Alize shook the girl. “Do you?”

The girl regarded her uncertainly before nodding. Alize bent over and undid her chains with the jailer’s key.

“Go!” she cried and the girl stumbled from the jail. Alize walked as calmly as she could back towards the Great Hall, not wanting to attract any attention with her haste. When she heard the sound of clashing hooves behind her and the cries of the townspeople, she did not even turn around to look.

As she entered the Great Hall once more, Davram immediately appeared next to her. “Followed all my instructions, I see.”

“Mostly,” she said quickly, hoping for a diversion. She peered into the center of the room to see Prince Jorin speaking to a courtier. The man’s face was familiar, something about his deep golden skin. Alize scanned her memory of the last few cities she had visited, but to no avail. His eyes caught hers and they stared at each other for a moment before he broke his gaze and turned back to the High Prince. “Where’s Onder?” Alize asked.

“Also not following my instructions.” Davram muttered in disbelief. He began recounting Onder’s fight with Amrea in the stables as Kell arrived beside them.

Kell looked haggard and avoided Alize’s gaze.

“Are you resting now?” Alize asked him finally.

Kell responded duly, “Trying to.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Davram asked.

“Tried to.”

They stood in silence. Alize hated the way Kell slumped. She had not appreciated the jaunt in his steps, the tilt of his smile, until she saw their absence.

Alize moved to stand beside him. When he did not acknowledge her, she touched his arm. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’ve been thinking, and I have some ideas. When things are a little calmer, we should discuss them.”

“Alize,” Kell exhaled, “right now all I care about is the life of this one girl. I don’t want to lose another one.”

Alize bit her lip. “Of course.”

Kell would find out sooner or later what she had done. Later, however, would be preferable. Alize lowered her hand from Kell’s arm.

But almost instantly she reached up to grab it again. The man near Prince Jorin regarded her anew and this time she placed him in her memory. He had commanded the troops in the mountain pass so many weeks ago. Alize had shamed him in front of his men. As the man continued to stare at her, Alize started to sweat.

“Alize?” Kell’s voice cut through her ruminations. “You’re squeezing the life from my hand!”

The man was slowly rosing to his feet, his eyes locked on Alize.

“I think that man might know I’m a Hrumi.”

“Prince Tamer? Jorin’s son?” Kell whispered harshly.

“What?” Alize jostled, “He said he served the Kanarbha prince!”

“That’s what everyone’s supposed to say when they meet a Hrumi! You think he remembers you?”

“Uh,” Alize watched as the man took a single step in her direction, “it’s looking increasingly likely.”

Before Kell could respond, a bright blue flash lit from outside followed a thunderous rumbling. Inside the crowd shifted anxiously.

“Sorcery.” Davram stepped beside Alize, “I hope Onder’s in the right place.”

“And the earthquake is coming,” Alize observed. The familiar ringing in her ears was becoming audible over the murmurs of the crowd. “Take me to Jorin now,” she told Davram. She did not mention that in the periphery of her vision she also caught sight of Prince Tamer moving towards her, his brows furrowed and his eyes aflame.

Davram led her past the guards towards the High Prince. Jorin wore a frown that mirrored Alize’s own expression of muted pain. Alize glanced behind her to see Kell attempting to stop Tamer’s pursuit. The prince responded sharply and Kell dropped his jaw in astonishment. Watching him, Alize understood she did not have much time before the Prince Tamer acted.

When she faced forward again, she found herself confronting Parousia’ High Prince. The chair beneath him rested hidden under the drapes of luxurious gold and blue silk, and Alize could see the bottom of an embellished platform exposed where the cloth ended. Even seated, the High Prince towered over Alize. His arms lazed on either armrest, as if strewn by the weight of the heavy gold ornaments dangling from his wrists and fingers. His legs splayed under his robe, taking up as much room as possible and giving off the distinct impression that the High Prince harbored no concerns for security.

Davram knelt before him, “Prince Jorin,” he said lowly, “allow me to present Mage Onder’s niece, Alize of Undour.”

Alize barely registered the title Davram had chosen as she met the shrewd eyes of the High Prince. She pressed herself not to shirk from his gaze. Though she knew him to be as distracted as she by the pain they both bore, his outward composure seemed unruffled and he looked at her appraisingly and respectfully.

But suddenly his eyes blazed in recognition. “You? You come to me now?” Alize opened her mouth but before she could respond Jorin turned to Davram, “Sargon, have you brought me my death?”

“No,” Alize answered, “I’m trying to save you.”

She rose to her toes to speak softly in the High Prince’s ear. Beside them Davram shifted, too aware of the courtiers’ gazes witnessing Alize’s unpardonably familiar audience with the sovereign of their realm.

Alize uttered her words crisply, “This earthquake is for you and the magic you carry. A Conjurer will kill you for it, but I can take it from you peaceably.”

“The earthquake is coming now!”

Davram shifted his gaze to Alize for confirmation.

And at that moment Prince Tamer appeared on Jorin’s other side. “That woman is Hrumi!” he cried in full indignation.

Davram moved between them as the High Prince closed his eyes.

And it began.