The Inner Circle: The Knowing (25 page)

Clenching the wheel with both
hands, El-i-miir turned it and was satisfied to hear a loud thud as
the lock shifted. She was opening a very dangerous door to some
very unfamiliar territory, but she took a deep breath and stepped
across the threshold. The silt sat on the bench, his leathery wings
crumpled against the walls to either side. His knees were tucked up
under his chin and his arms were wrapped around them. His straight,
bluish-black hair sat neatly above purple eyes that followed
El-i-miir with suspicion, although without malice.

Upon seeing the conditions in
which Ilgrin was being held, El-i-miir lost her confidence and
started to back away.

‘
Don’t be scared,’ he
said, his voice strained.

‘
Why didn’t you
answer me when I called through before?’

‘
I’m tired,’ he
replied softly. ‘I’m just so tired. What do you want?’

‘
I . . . it’s Seeol.’
El-i-miir laughed dismissively. ‘He speaks such silly nonsense,
doesn’t he?’

‘
I suppose.’ Ilgrin
shrugged and looked away.

‘
It’s just that . . .
he said something about your horse.’ El-i-miir hesitated, fearing
how the silt might react. ‘He said she was like him . . . that she
was different.’

‘
Emquin was
different,’ Ilgrin confirmed, rising to his feet to loom over
El-i-miir, forcing her to take a step back. ‘I was honoured to call
her my friend, but she wasn’t anything like Seeol.’

‘
Oh, thank Maker,’
El-i-miir exhaled in relief.

‘
She wasn’t like
Seeol,’ Ilgrin repeated. ‘She was like us.’

‘
What?’ El-i-miir
choked out.

‘
Emquin was as human
as you.’ Ilgrin frowned regretfully. ‘She was from the borderlands
and was changed by a whisp.’

‘
But . . . ’
El-i-miir’s jaw worked. ‘But that means . . .’

‘
You ate somebody,’
Ilgrin finished for her.

‘
Oh, Maker,’
El-i-miir put a hand over her stomach and gagged. ‘I’m going to be
sick.’

‘
Not in my cell,’
Ilgrin cringed and moved to push E-i-miir out the door.

There was a loud cracking sound.
Together, Ilgrin and El-i-miir followed the sound to its source.
Ilgrin had been chained to the bench, but the bench had only been
attached to the wall by a single bolt. As he’d stepped forward to
push El-i-miir out of the way the bolt had cracked out of the wall
and the bench hit the ground. The chain that’d been looped around
it slid away and Ilgrin was no longer a prisoner.

El-i-miir looked into the silt’s eyes
and he into hers, both of them frozen in disbelief, neither quite
sure of what to do next. El-i-miir reacted first, throwing herself
over the threshold and slamming her weight against the door.

‘
Hey!’ a crewman
shouted as he ran across the hold, dropping a bucket of horse-feed
as he went. A second man looked up at the sound and began racing
toward the scene.

El-i-miir screamed as the door exploded
open, her strength useless against the demon within. She hit the
ground hard, turning in time to catch a glimpse of Ilgrin’s
expression of desperation before the crewmen hit the door and put
their weight against it.

‘
What in Maker’s name
is that thing?’ one of them cried out.

Rather than answering, El-i-miir
too put her weight against the door. Despite the three of them
working together, their efforts were not enough and the door moved
against them. ‘I can’t hold it,’ one of the crewmen grunted. Ilgrin
thrust open the door with a victorious shout, sending the three of
them stumbling backward. He stepped into the hold and stretched out
his intimidating wings.

‘
What’s going on
here?’ Seteal asked, appearing halfway down the spiral staircase.
Of course, when she spotted the silt, the question was no longer
relevant.

Ilgrin turned toward the sound of
Seteal’s voice and hesitated, perhaps remembering the part he’d
played in her fate. The hesitation was enough. El-i-miir closed her
eyes and steadied her breathing, urging the Ways to submit to
her.

The world was a litany of lights that
snaked across the room, tracing the paths the crewmen had taken
across the hold. Some were old and faded, whilst others still
burned bright. Ilgrin’s aura glowed purple, green and red as panic
and desperation suffocated his better judgement. He launched
himself across the room, racing for sweet freedom. But it was too
late. El-i-miir opened her hand and strands of translucency
penetrated Ilgrin’s aura. The colourless strings whipped through
the air, visible only by the warping of anything seen through
them.

Ilgrin stopped just strides from a very
pale and wide-eyed Seteal. El-i-miir focused on sending portions of
her own consciousness through the strands and into Ilgrin’s being.
A moment later she was able to see Seteal from two perspectives,
one across the room and the other right before her. The two images
were superimposed in such a way that it would confuse anyone not
trained in how to interpret them. El-i-miir swallowed nervously as
she folded Ilgrin’s wings behind their back. She felt the inhuman
strength carried within the silt’s muscles and Ilgrin shuddered in
horror.

His expression blank, El-i-miir walked
the silt back to his cell. She stepped him inside and he shut the
door. Seteal wasted no time in hurrying down the remaining steps,
rushing across the room and spinning the wheel. Only then did
El-i-miir release Ilgrin’s Way. A shout of frustration came from
within the small cell as Ilgrin banged his fist against the
door.

‘
There’s a demon on
board.’ One of the crewmen stood transfixed. ‘For the love of Maker
. . . a demon!’

‘
What do you think
you’re doing?’ Seteal levelled El-i-miir beneath a reproving stare.
‘Have you forgotten what that thing is capable of?’

‘
No, I . . . ’
El-i-miir shook her head, devastated by her own stupidity. She was
more sensible than that! How could she have allowed herself to
trust the silt so far? ‘Seeol said something and I had to find out.
I didn’t think.’

‘
Clearly.’ Seteal
pushed herself away from the door, as the crewmen departed,
undoubtedly in a hurry to report what they’d seen to Captain
Waxnah. ‘Well, I’m not going to waste my breath reprimanding you.
When Far-a-mael finds out, you’ll be lucky if you come out
alive.’

With that, Seteal left the hold
and headed upstairs. El-i-miir watched her leave before putting a
hand to her throat. Seteal had just spoken to her from a position
of authority. How had that happened? And more importantly, when had
it happened? Every single decision El-i-miir had made lately
resulted in Seteal seeming increasingly sensible and El-i-miir
increasingly juvenile. Had Far-a-mael noticed it? He’d probably
instigated it. El-i-miir was toward the end of her studies so she
didn’t need as much one on one time with the old man, but still she
hadn’t had a single lesson with him since Seteal had joined them.
Not one. Was she being replaced? No, it was worse--she was being
cast aside. El-i-miir’s training had once been Far-a-mael’s
proudest ambition. Now she was only in the way.

‘
If you don’t want to
be treated like a fool, stop acting one,’ she murmured, wiping away
tears and straightening her dress. When she looked up, Far-a-mael
was standing at the base of the steps. ‘Gil’rei!’

‘
You foolish girl.’
Far-a-mael strode across the room and slapped her across the face.
‘You’re both an embarrassment to me and to yourself. That stupid
child upstairs has more sense than you. Do you understand? You . .
. a young woman born of wealth, raised with every possible
advantage imaginable and the opportunity to train beneath the most
powerful gil ever to grace the cleff in which I discovered you.
You, with an Elglair education are a greater embarrassment to me
than that empty-headed carpenter’s daughter.’ Spittle flew from
Far-a-mael’s mouth as he shouted in El-i-miir’s face, his anger far
surpassing anything she’d seen from him before.

‘
But,
Gil’rei--’

‘
Shut up!’ Far-a-mael
clapped a hand around El-i-miir’s throat, but seemed to think
better of it and pulled away. ‘I do not want to hear you. I do not
want to see you. Torrid, I don’t even want to catch a whiff of your
perfume for the remainder of this trip.’

‘
Yes, Gil’rei.’
El-i-miir lowered her eyes, but Far-a-mael hadn’t
finished.

‘
That creature in
there--’ He jabbed a finger toward the door. ‘--has the strength to
kill everyone on board this boat without stopping to catch its
breath.’ He put his face close to El-i-miir’s, having lowered his
voice abruptly. ‘You do not want to be responsible for Seteal’s
death. Let me impress upon you, if nothing else, that if you ruin
this for our people I’ll see you are sent to Vish’el’Tei to die
after you’ve been tortured to within an inch of your piteous life.
You’ll cry out to see your own blood long before your last breath
will give you peace. Have I made myself clear?’

‘
Very,’ El-i-miir
squeaked. She’d never heard of a crime being so heavily punished,
but was under no illusions that Far-a-mael was without the power to
follow through on his threat.

‘
Good,’ the gil
murmured, turning away. ‘Waxnah threatened to kick us off at the
final town before Cold Wood. I’ve had to double my payment. You can
explain the additional expenditure to High Elder Gez-reil.’
El-i-miir quivered like a leaf but otherwise remained stuck to the
spot. ‘Well?’ Far-a-mael barked. ‘Get out of my sight.’

As if someone had pushed her from
behind, El-i-miir charged up stairs and into her room. At first she
didn’t realise what the sound was. But before long she recognised
it. The long, guttural cries were not those of a human. The sound
penetrated the riverboat, no place being a suitable refuge from it.
With the crew aware of his presence, Far-a-mael had lost any need
to keep Ilgrin quiet . . . and the silt was too strong. El-i-miir
knew what was happening, but climbed into bed and threw the covers
over her head. She couldn’t know precisely what horrors Far-a-mael
was inflicting on the silt, but they were likely both mentally and
physically draining. Weakened captives behaved
themselves.

El-i-miir rolled over and closed her
eyes. She knew Ilgrin was innocent, even if he was a silt. He was a
good man. She shuddered at the realisation. On a rational level she
knew it was true, but emotionally . . . he was still a demon.
El-i-miir was weak. She was a coward. Seteal had been taken against
her will, raped, beaten and still she stood strong, holding closely
to her values and beliefs. Seteal always followed her heart and did
what she knew was right. El-i-miir hid beneath her blankets and
cowered like a beaten dog. If she were anything like Seteal, she’d
have set Ilgrin free, to torrid with the consequences. But she was
not Seteal. She was a scared little girl, diligently obeying the
commands of her superiors.

CHAPTER
Seventeen

Changing Minds

When El-i-miir woke up, the boat was
surprisingly still and lacked the commotion usually heard from
above. Seteal was sleeping in the lower bunk. Her breathing was
slow and deep. The small mirror across the room revealed darkness
beneath El-i-miir’s eyes and she put a hand to her mouth as
memories of the previous day came back to her.

After getting dressed and applying her
makeup, El-i-miir made her way over to the door and began to pull
it open, but stopped sharply and closed it again. Something was
wrong. El-i-miir turned in a slow circle at the centre of the
room.

‘
Seteal,’ she
whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

El-i-miir clutched her stomach,
terror causing her heart to beat rapidly. Seteal’s aura was gone.
There were only two situations in which a person’s aura vanished
completely. And that was in death, or if they became a
seeol.

‘
Seteal,’ El-i-miir
rushed over and shook the woman. She was breathing. She had a
pulse. Physically, she looked alive, but her spirit was gone. ‘Wake
up!’

‘
Leave me alone.’ The
woman’s lips moved slowly, her voice barely audible. As she spoke
patches of her aura flared in and out of existence.

‘
Seteal!’ El-i-miir
cried, fearing the consequences should something happen under her
watch. ‘You need to wake up right now.’ She was flooded with relief
when Seteal’s aura popped vibrantly and entirely into
existence.

‘
Get off me.’
Seteal’s eyes burst open and she pushed El-i-miir away. ‘I told you
to leave me alone.’

‘
Your aura was
gone.’

‘
What?’ Seteal asked
in confusion as she slid off the bed and straightened her dress. In
fact, she was fully dressed, which seemed odd.

‘
Your aura,’
El-i-miir repeated. ‘It was gone.’

‘
Well, that doesn’t
mean a lot to me, now does it?’ Seteal put her hands on her hips.
‘I can’t see them, remember?’

‘
You don’t
understand,’ El-i-miir said worriedly. ‘Only dead people don’t have
auras. Well . . . them and Seeol.’