The phenomena of the "barren generation" has not only been evidenced through social observations and historical records, but also presaged in religious texts that warn the end of Graced blood should it couple with anyone outside of royal- or noble birth.

—Tides and Times of Surikhand, an histoire by Setja Asmaradan                  

15

↝ THE UNKNOWN QUEEN ↜

Who would break into a queen's residence? A fool, Isla told herself. A fool or a desperate man; though they were often one and the same. Isla was no man, but sometimes – and this was one of those times – sometimes, she was a fool.

Her mind could only scout so far, but she had felt no other human presence within close proximity. She knew there were three pairs of palace guards making their rounds of the consortial estates; but the estates were vast and encompassed three separate residences.

She knew one pair would be just along the eastern perimeter of Rajini Amarin's estate, the other pair far south somewhere around Rajini Chei's residence, while the third pair had just made their round past the trees where Isla was hid, and would soon be well north and away from any noise she might make.

Isla had studied their schedule on her first- and second week-break, when she had taken Rinju out into these very woods. It was close enough to the White Asraam that no one who happened by them would have suspected a thing. She had taken Rinju as close to the consortial estates as would have been proper, and while the girl climbed and jumped from tree to tree, Isla watched the estates through the boughs.

'Ready, Pep?' She gently let the salamander onto the forest floor. It scampered under the foliage; the only sign of it was the bulging rustle of leaves that trailed towards Rajini Dhvani's estate.

Isla waited for Pepper to do its job.

While she could not sense any human presence nearby, some especially well-trained theurgists were able to diminish their presence and effectively hide themselves from the mental world.

And no queen would leave her house unattended and without protection. Even if Rajini Dhvani's estates were completely empty, certainly there would be runes set about the residence. As a daemon, Pepper would be much more conscious of any hidden runes. The element's task was to find a way inside, ensure it was safe for Isla to follow, and lead her through the least guarded routes.

Isla waited with a knot in her stomach. The only runes she had experience with were those used for food preservation, and they had taken her weeks to master. She had failed so miserably the first few days, somehow managing to set Noi's coffee beans to an accelerated decay. Isla smiled fondly at the memory. Noi had not been pleased.

Something lit for a brief moment.

The spark came from one of the ground floor windows. Isla checked the area and dashed towards Pepper. The element was on the other side of the glass pane. It had leapt onto the lock, coiled its tail firmly around it, and swung.

It strained and stretched and slowly crawled down the window, pulling the lock with it, until it came loose with a click.

Without a moment to lose, Isla drew the window open and climbed in. The wind howled and ruffled a few papers as she entered, but quickly died as she shut the opening.

'What would I do without you, Pep?' She rubbed the salamander under its chin. It chirped before scurrying out to stand guard over the door.

It took Isla a while to adjust to the sudden darkness, and when it did, she discovered she was in some sort of study. A desk stood between every two windows; three tables in total, all of which were loaded with papers, ink pots, and various other oddities.

Where do I start? What am I even looking for? A girl chained to the ceiling? A cabinet marked 'evil schemes'? Isla cursed under her breath. A fool is right. This was a terrible idea.

But it was her only chance of searching for any signs of the rajini's wickedness. When else would her entire household – personal guards inclusive – be gone from her home, leaving it ripe for the plundering?

Isla shuffled through the closest papers and stopped herself.

If she keeps anything valuable, it wouldn't be lying auspiciously on top of a desk. 'Pepper,' she whispered into the darkness. 'I need your help.'

The salamander scurried obediently.

Isla had found a locked drawer. And only one. Breaking the lock might trigger any set runes. 'This one above it is open. I need you to crawl in and drop to the locked drawer through the gap. Pass on whatever documents you find inside.'

The element did her one better. Isla heard it rummaging inside the locked drawer, and within the minute, it had crawled back out of the drawer above with a spare key in its mouth.

'You ... are ... amazing.'

Inside was an appointment-book. Isla flitted through it and found nothing of interest. She went through the other documents. Old letters, several lists, a ring bearing Rajini Dhvani's seal. Nothing particularly questionable. Isla returned everything to its place and, upon second thought, took the seal and pocketed it along with a few letters before locking the drawer and dropping the key through the upper gap.

That was when she heard the footsteps.

Isla's heart raced. There was nowhere to hide. She'd make too much noise to escape through the window. The cupboard? Too obvious. She'd read too many books to even—No. This isn't the time.

The door opened. Gaslights flickered on. Isla was gone.

She peered through the cracks; the light was too soft for her to see the man's features. Shadows danced over his face as he hung the gaslight over one of the windows. He drew a chair and sat by the table, his back towards Isla.

For a few minutes he simply sat there, hunched over the desk. Now he would dip his quill into the ink pot, pause to think, and resume his writing.

Isla's feet were beginning to ache, pressed up as it was and scraping against the wood. Again she cursed herself; her impetuousness. She knew there were no sure bets – and yet she had talked herself into this foolish errand, and for what?

She had gotten herself close to death with Nagendra, now she was at the verge of doing it again. But I'm out of options. Prijsti turned out a dead end. What else am I to do? Wait until the answers drop from the sky into my lap?

Isla held in a sigh. There you go again, making excuses for yourself.

There was no room for mistakes. If she got out of this in one piece, she promised herself she would not take any more unnecessary risks.

The chair scraped against the floor and brought Isla to attention. The man was on his feet. Silver flashed around his neck as he turned and walked towards the cupboard.

Isla squeezed herself deeper into her hole. She made herself small and tested the silver-servant's walls. It was firm, but she did not expect anything less. Isla spread a sliver of her mind over and around his; canvassing for the weakest points.

The silver-servant opened the cupboard and rifled through its contents.

Beside it, wedged in the small space between the wood and the corner of the room, Isla uttered a silent prayer that he would not look her way.

After what felt like an age, the man walked back towards his desk, a mirror in hand. Under the gaslight, Isla saw that it was ringed with inscriptions in what she suspected was real gold. The silver-servant held the mirror at eye-level and spoke out in Ancient Pertheist a long chorus of words Isla heard but instantly forgot.

Such was the nature of runes. One had to be well-versed in its operation in order to both trigger and understand it. The one held by the silver-servant looked far more complex and powerful than the preservation runes Isla was familiar with. But hers had been elementary – runes that could be triggered by anyone, theurgic or unblooded. The mirror, however ...

Electricity cackled in the air, a chill rose out of nowhere.

The mirror fed on the power of the silver-servant. A higher rune, such as the ones protecting Tempestorm from its daemonic contraption. Runes that can only be triggered by powerful theurgists.

'Rajini.' The silver-servant dipped his head, and Isla saw that the mirror no longer reflected the dark room. Upon its surface was the face of a middle-aged woman. A chamber of soft yellow glow. A window somewhere to the woman's left, out of which came the sound of rain and hooves on stone.

Isla reigned in a gasp. She had never seen or heard of such a device. It was as though a chronurgist had been trapped inside the glass.

'You must speak with haste,' said the rajini. Her voice was low, but sharp. With her angular chin and taut, pulled face, it made Isla think of the vultures she had seen in Aldir's books. 'I fast approach the Mire of Shien. Our enoptograph will soon not carry the distance.'

'Your stay at the Water Palace was pleasant, Your Honourable Consort?'

'I only adjourned thence at His Highness' behest. Only this morning could I resume my journey. He wished upon me his regrets, as though they meant a thing.'

Isla remembered hearing Phrae mention something about that. The king was supposedly off on the Blooming Season Hunt. A seasonal affair in which the Maha Rama and his chosen guests would ride for the Water Palace and hunt its surrounding forests for magnificent beasts. Those woods were sacred; forbidden to anyone but the royal family, hence many extraordinary and rare creatures were said to seek shelter in its trees.

'He means well, rajini.'

'Enough of this babble! What news have you?'

The silver-servant did not even flinch at her tone. Again Isla pried into his mind; now that he was distracted, it should be quicker for her to find a way in.

'I can account for all the known silver-servants, rajini. I have compiled a report that shall be waiting for you upon your return.'

'All the silver-servants?'

'All those known, excluding your own, of course. They were either here within the palatial ring, or at the Water Palace at the time of your good son's death. There are countless eye-witnesses to attest. Their names have also been included in my report.'

'So you have nothing.' A whisper; a disappointed raise of her chin. At this, the silver-servant did straighten. 'Leave your report in my chamber. That will be all.'

'Rajini –' Isla found a gap and slithered inside the silver-servant's mind. She played with his curiosity; made him a little bolder, and then he asked, 'Why do you think they killed your son?'

The queen consort seemed surprised at his question. Almost as surprised as he was by his own audacity. But Rajini Dhvani only smiled. 'You should be familiar with the game by now. They think to diminish me. Diminish my line. My son is gone, Arya. My only son. You will find this out or I will find someone of greater competence.'

The glass surface shimmered and faded into the darkness that was the study. 'Yes, rajini,' Arya said into his reflection.
   

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