The Inner Circle: The Knowing (31 page)

‘
I suppose,’ Seteal
said, but didn’t really know what Far-a-mael was driving at and so
said nothing further.

‘
Could you . . . ’
Far-a-mael trailed off and licked his lips. ‘Do you think you could
travel so far as Old World?’

‘
Yes,’ Seteal said
excitedly, coming alive for the first time in days. ‘I could go
there and kill them.’ Pure hatred like that which she’d never
experienced liberated Seteal’s mind from the burdens she
carried.

‘
All in good time,
dear child,’ Far-a-mael rubbed his hands together. ‘Are you able to
manipulate the environment in your projected state?’

‘
Maybe.’ Seteal
frowned. ‘I made the breeze pick up once.’

‘
I need to know
more.’ Far-a-mael scratched his chin through his beard. ‘Come lay
down on the bed.’ Master Fasil rose to his feet and loomed over
her. ‘Such a pretty little thing, but such a naughty girl. I’ll
teach you some manners.’ The ugly man wrapped his hand around
Seteal’s throat and threw her to the ground. She screamed and
fought but he was too strong. He pushed into her, filling her with
shame, agony, and blood. Her virginity was stolen. She’d kill him.
She’d kill him!

‘
What’s up?’
Far-a-mael asked in concern, standing several strides
away.

‘
Nothing.’ Seteal
shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m tired. I got distracted.’

‘
That’s all right,’
Far-a-mael reassured her. ‘Now why don’t you lie down on the bed
and project yourself.’

‘
I’ll lie on the
floor,’ Seteal said slowly, heart beating furiously. Could she
leave her body so exposed with only Far-a-mael in the room for
company? Did she really trust him that far? How could she know that
he wouldn’t hurt her? ‘I’m not going to Old World,’ Seteal stated
firmly. ‘I’m not leaving this room.’

‘
I hope not,’
Far-a-mael agreed. ‘We won’t get much done if you can’t hear
me.’

‘
All right.’ Seteal
put her head flat against the floor and stared up at the ceiling.
‘I’m going now.’ Doing so had become second nature to her. She
needed dwell on it only for a second before she was expelled. In
fact, it almost seemed harder to return now than it did to
leave.

Seteal watched her head flop to the
side, her body becoming an empty vessel. She felt none of the
concerns that’d plagued her previously. Far-a-mael could do
whatever he wanted to that pathetic body. It wasn’t her anymore.
She existed separate from it: pure, free, unadulterated.

‘
I’m out,’ the body
whispered.

‘
Here.’ Far-a-mael
retrieved a small grey feather from between the pages of a book and
placed it at the centre of his desk. ‘Can you move
that?’

Seteal laughed internally. He was
asking her to move a feather? She reached out and the feather slid
from the surface onto the floor.

‘
What else can you
do?’ Far-a-mael asked, his jaw dropping and his eyes reflecting
hope.

‘
I don’t think I can
do much more than that,’ Seteal’s body replied.

‘
Wait.’
Far-a-mael waggled a finger in the air. ‘I think . . .’ He pulled
open a drawer and riffled through it to retrieve a small,
leather-bound book. He flicked through the pages, finally stopping
to trace a finger along the cursive text. ‘The canvas. That’s it!
Seteal, I need you to focus carefully on any one of the objects
surrounding us. You should see, or more properly put, you
should
know
a weaving.’

A weaving? Seteal wondered what that
could mean. She drifted close to the wall and stared at the timber
until she had trouble differentiating herself from the polished
surface. Disguised in the wood, tiny strands of energy squirmed
about one another.

‘
I see it,’ Seteal
heard herself reply.

‘
I want you to pull
out one of the threads,’ Far-a-mael said eagerly.

‘
Are you sure that’s
a good idea?’

‘
Just do it,’ he
snapped impatiently.

Seteal focused on a miniscule thread.
At first it resisted as she pulled, but soon enough the string
snapped. She moved away at the sound of a loud thud that gave
Far-a-mael cause to jump. A long crack slithered down the length of
the wall. The old man stared at the timber for a long time.

‘
You can come back
now.’ Seteal turned her attention to the gil’rei, to observe the
buzzing weaving that constructed his flesh. She wondered fleetingly
what would happen if she broke one of his strands.

The room became comparatively
dull when Seteal opened her eyes and stood up. She was again
conscious of what was between her legs and felt repulsed by what’d
been in there. She felt abundant hatred and sorrow, felt fear and
regret. She was weak, encased by a disgusting shell.

The mysterious weaving had
vanished, but the crack in the wall remained. Seteal slid her hand
along the surface, examining the damage in disbelief. ‘What were
those lines?’

‘
The most ancient
texts referred to the Ways as a canvas,’ Far-a-mael said. ‘It
hasn’t been described as such for thousands of years as presumably
one can only truly see the canvas when projecting, a skill thought
long extinct. I believe you, Seteal, are able to communicate
directly with the Ways. You didn’t just cause the wall to crack,
you destroyed that fragment of reality. The wall is broken because
that part of itself no longer exists.’

‘
This is all very
fascinating,’ Seteal sighed, ‘but I really don’t care.’

‘
Excuse
me?’

‘
I don’t want to make
pieces of reality stop existing.’

‘
Is that so?’
Far-a-mael raised his eyebrows. ‘What if you’re able to pluck the
weaving out of a demon? What if you’re able to kill them
all?’

Seteal’s eyes widened with
understanding. She smiled. ‘Perhaps I would like to learn a little
more, but first we’ll have to ensure I’m able to prevent my powers
from killing me.’

‘
Killing you?’
Far-a-mael’s expression became one of confusion that was followed
quickly by one of realisation. ‘Oh, I think we’re very close now,'
Far-a-mael murmured. 'We’ll need to get you properly checked over
in the Sixth Cleff, but I’m certain you’ll be fine.’

‘
I’m going to bed,’
Seteal said sadly.

‘
Yes.’ Far-a-mael
waved her away. ‘I have much research to do. Go get some
rest.’

Seteal turned the doorhandle, but
stopped and spun around. ‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’ she said
softly.

‘
What?’ Far-a-mael
gasped. ‘Nonsense, you silly girl.’

‘
It’s okay. You’ve
been very kind to me otherwise. I even understand why you did
it.’

‘
Dear girl,’
Far-a-mael’s jaw worked, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘
Then say nothing.’
Seteal shrugged. ‘You knew I’d never come with you, safely nestled
away in Elmsville, detached from the rest of the world. I see the
truth now. My mother was killed by a whisp and that means she was
killed by a demon.’ Seteal approached Far-a-mael slowly, staring
into his eyes. ‘I will follow you to the end of Old World and
together we will destroy every last one of those wretched
murderers.’

Far-a-mael swallowed loudly.
‘Indeed.’

‘
Goodnight,
Far-a-mael.’ Seteal slid out the door and down the corridor,
tracing her hand along the wall as she went.

She could never go home. She was not
Gifn’s little girl anymore. There would be no place in Elmsville
for her. She belonged with Far-a-mael now. Together they would
destroy Old World and cleanse the earth of its demons. Seteal took
a moment to try and remember her mother’s face, but she failed
miserably. Soon enough no child would ever again have to lose their
mother due to the selfishness of demons.

Matt-hew 24

24. For there shall arise false
teachers and false prophets and shall show great signs and wisdom,
insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive even the
very elect.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER
Twenty-One

Drink

His cell was so small that at times
Ilgrin felt sure he’d lose his mind. How long could a man stare at
the same four walls and maintain his sanity? How many days had he
been locked away? His torment was such that he couldn’t decide
whether he’d been more comfortable tethered to a horse or locked up
in a cell with naught but his own thoughts and a mutant bird for
company.

Ilgrin turned his attention to the elf
owl who’d been pacing for some time parallel to the length of the
door. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘
Trying to find some
ways out.’

‘
You can climb
through the food hatch, remember?’ He didn’t know very much about
birds, but made the assumption that Seeol’s avian memory had
betrayed him.

‘
Not for me.’ The owl
scowled as far the expression were possible from his feathered
face. ‘For you.’

‘
You needn’t worry.’
Ilgrin shrugged, putting a hand on his shoulder where a dull ache
reminded him of the injury he’d sustained weeks earlier. ‘I’ve made
other arrangements.’

‘
With El-i-mish?’
Seeol enquired, ceasing his pacing and levelling Ilgrin beneath his
penetrating stare.

‘
You know about
that?’

‘
I heard you
talked.’

‘
Well.’ Ilgrin
frowned. ‘You know not to repeat what you heard to anyone
right?’

‘
Of course,’ Seeol
croaked. ‘My eye is not stupid.’ Despite himself Ilgrin chuckled
when the bird pointed at his eye, clearly having confused the
difference between “I” and “eye.” ‘El-i-mish is very lovable to be
helping you run away.’

‘
She is, isn’t she?’
Ilgrin smiled, lowering his gaze to folded hands in his lap. He
acknowledged the smooth blue tips. It was a small thing, another
reminder of the many difference between himself and them. El-i-miir
radiated beauty unlike anyone he’d ever seen. She easily surpassed
Seteal, who, as far as he could tell, was completely insane.
El-i-miir’s hair hung like woven silk. Her pale face was the image
of perfection and her eyes . . . her eyes reflected the beauty of a
cloudless sky.

The Elglair woman could be with any man
she chose and yet there she was, visiting him every chance she got.
Did she truly love him? Did he love her? Ilgrin’s heart leapt at
the prospect. Surely he couldn’t be so fortunate. Perhaps she
merely pitied him in the knowledge that he was innocent. But what
of the intimacy? That memory was all that kept him sane.

Of course, Ilgrin knew the word
'innocent' was not one to be bandied around lightly. He was only
innocent in so far as he’d never willing wished harm on anyone--but
like many other silts before him, he too had reversed death. It was
his kind that bore the responsibility for the slow destruction of
their world and for that he, too, at least in some small part, was
responsible. Ilgrin suffered a great deal of anxiety in the
knowledge that his act of kindness may have caused bloodshed
elsewhere.

Ilgrin came out of his thoughts when he
realised Seeol was staring up at him with piercing eyes. ‘I found
her first.’ His tone was one of accusation.

‘
What?’

‘
I found El-i-miish
first,’ Seeol said aggressively.

‘
So you did.’ Ilgrin
shook his head at the animal’s lack of sense. What did it matter
that he’d met El-i-miir first? Unless . . . no, it was impossible.
Surely Seeol didn’t think he’d developed feelings for her. The
thought alone was so disturbing that Ilgrin immediately wrote it
off as absurd. He’d been locked up far too long. Whatever the bird
was trying to say, it couldn’t have been that.

*

The doorframe was cold to the touch and
for just a moment El-i-miir retracted her hand. This was what she’d
been reduced to? Common thievery? She turned the handle, checked
over her shoulder to be sure no one was watching and slid into the
galley.

It was so late that although
El-i-miir’s heart raced in her chest, she knew she was quite
unlikely to be discovered. All but a skeleton crew were in bed and
she was fairly certain that none of them had reason to come by the
galley. Across the room El-i-miir found her target where a large
air-tight unit beckoned. She pulled open the door with confidence,
as this was not by any means her first nocturnal
venture.

Far-a-mael intended to starve Ilgrin.
He planned to keep the silt alive, but only just. That way he’d be
too weak to cause any trouble. It was therefore El-i-miir’s task to
ensure Ilgrin maintained his health so that when the opportunity
arose, he’d be able to escape. Snatching up a crudely cut--although
properly cooked--lump of meat in one arm and a loaf of bread in the
other, El-i-miir pushed the unit shut with her foot and headed for
the galley door.