Audrey lived in a townhouse a few city blocks over from the alleyway, Blair was thankful for the short trip as the diviner’s vision and Gus’s recklessness instilled a persistent fear within them. The brick-shelled structure was nothing more than a mirage meant to trick oneself with the illusion of safety. Passing through the threshold, Blair couldn’t help but feel envious that their benefactor was able to comfortably hide in plain sight. Premonitions didn’t draw mhyra, so unless Audrey let slip her capabilities, the Zherrai-Myr wouldn’t know, at least—not without help. The inside of the house smelled of must and wood; Blair thought back to Lahcen’s farmhouse, then Lahcen himself. A senseless casualty in a senseless genocide, may the Western Wind carry him home.
“Audrey.” Blair asked as they all filed into a hallway. “Are any of us in any immediate danger?” A framed picture to Blair’s left caught their eye, it looked to be a family portrait, but neither of the subjects resembled Audrey—strangely enough.
The woman paused for a moment, as though she were lost in a daze. “I’ve told you before, I haven’t seen anything that would suggest that.” She shook her head and crossed her arms. “I was going to wait until you were more comfortable, but if it brings you peace of mind… I know how to see further, but it requires your cooperation.”
Blair shared a concerned look with Rue. “What kind of cooperation?”
Audrey shrugged. “The more I know someone on a personal level, the clearer the visions about them become, but future divinations are still unclear.” She placed her thumb against her lips, her brow furrowed in thought. “The furthest I was able to see ahead on a stranger’s future was a week, but that vision proved wildly inaccurate.”
Blair took a moment of consideration. “Fine, every little bit helps.” They looked to Oz and Gus. “What about you?”
Gus smiled as if he was about to have his fortune told. “Sure.” Blair also envied Guspare’s unserious approach to everything, but it was that same lackadaisical attitude that could very well get them all killed.
Oz grunted, but that could have been anything between a confirmation or a dismissal.
“I’ll share some things about myself too.” Rue announced. “Everything begins with trust, after all.” Blair couldn’t believe it; they wanted to object but Rusuuz had a rare determination in her eyes. If she felt comfortable sharing, then how could Blair to deny her that?
Audrey nodded, then lead them into a dining room. The furniture was ornate, not too elegant—but much classier than Audrey herself presented. Each took a seat at the table, large enough to seat six people. She intoned softly. “We’ll have to keep our voices low. This room isn’t as insulated as the hallway.” She pointed to the wall, indicating it being shared with the neighboring townhouse.
Oz held a hand out toward the wall. “Vice” he motioned that hand around in a circular motion, “rosun.” A muted quiet surrounded them all, the only ambient sound was contained within the confines of the table.
Audrey gaped at the demonstration. “You can cast silence.”
Oz shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s far more than just that.” He held his hand out towards the table, “Vice ro—” an unnatural stillness enveloped them all. Blair shuddered, thinking back to all the times they plugged their ears, where there were still the subtle sounds of their heartbeat and breathing resonating within them. Within Oz’s stillness, not even that could be detected.
Audrey frowned, no doubt she was trying to process the sensation. She held a hand up to one of her ears and snapped her fingers, rendered inert by the auditory suppression. After a second attempt, she became visibly shaken. Sound returned to the table like a rush of water, everybody seated—save for Oz—flinched at the sensory barrage.
“As you could tell,” Oz clasped his hands together, a haunted look fell over his face. “there’s nothing quite as loud as absolute silence. Nobody will be able to hear what’s going on in here, but the opposite applies to us, as well.”
“Even then,” Audrey paused, almost as if she were surprised by her voice. “I can imagine how much the Zherrai-Myr would want someone like you.” Blair scowled at Audrey’s completely inappropriate comment, but the woman didn’t notice. “We’ll keep this brief, just knowing your abilities will be enough for now.” She turned her attention to Guspare. “How about you?”
Blair was relieved to find that even Gus picked up on the woman’s peculiar shift in focus, but he acquiesced all the same. “I’m an illusionist, primarily glamour.”
Audrey’s eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”
“Would you like me to demonstrate?” Gus offered.
“Oh, no, no.” Audrey shook her head. “We’re already provoking our chances with this silence band.”
“Good point.” Gus nodded. “But it’s just an appearance veil. I can pose as anyone so long as I get a real good look at them!” He said proudly.
Blair caught Oz’s gaze. They hated how he always tended to be thinking the exact same thing they were. Gus might as well have detailed how he can place glamour on others. As much as the man was a liability waiting to happen, that skill could save their lives. Blair felt another pair of eyes on them, they turned to see Audrey, her fingers laced together under her chin expectantly.
Well, I did ask for this. Blair exhaled nasally. “My draw is light magic.” Audrey raised an eyebrow, anticipating the inevitable question Blair continued. “But I can only illuminate surfaces and for existing sources I can brighten or dim. My light doesn’t have any healing properties. Which is one reason I’m not a Life Weaver.”
Audrey nodded at the explanation. “What’s the other reason, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Blair crossed their arms. “Life Weavers are traitors, just like Beholden.”
Audrey looked like Blair just reached across the table and slapped her. The diviner worked her mouth, as if to protest, but remained quiet. Blair’s claim had often been the spark that would enflame arguments, but it wasn’t very often where someone wouldn’t contest it and actually take their statement into consideration. Audrey sat with a pensive expression, then turned away from Blair.
Her countenance readjusted, Audrey addressed Rue. “And you?”
Rue hesitated for a moment; she looked to each of them. Blair didn’t need to turn around to know that Oz and Gus were just as apprehensive, they gave Rue a reassuring nod.
Rue tightened her lips and answered. “I can call the wind.”
A silence deeper than Oz’s stillness filled the room.
Audrey’s face paled. “A shadow of Veran” she said under her breath.
Blair shot to their feet, slamming a fist on the table. “Don’t call her that!” They snapped.
The diviner flinched at the impact; she glanced at the shared wall before realizing the pound didn’t travel. Audrey shot a wary look at Blair before returning to Rue. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”
Rue shook her head. “It’s quite alright; I’ve been called much worse.”
Audrey nodded with a frown, then centered herself to address them all. “It goes without saying that I should share something about myself. I know it won’t do any good for you to know, but trust is transactional between casters.”
Gus scratched the nape of his neck. “You really don—"
“—no, Gus.” Oz cut in just as Blair was about to say similar. “Let her say her share.”
“Thank you,” Audrey motioned her hand “especially for this.” Likely referring to Oz’s quiet veil. “This house used to be my home, but it was never truly mine,” Audrey began “for several years I have been the housekeeper for a well-situated family.” She glanced at each of them. “Neither of them knew of my talents. Despite having never heard anything malicious regarding spellcraft from either of them, I always kept my divinations from them.” She clasped her hands together. “The closest I ever came would be make suggestions for trivial things that worked in their favor, just enough to pass it off as a knack or women’s intuition.”
Audrey grew quiet, staring into nothing. Blair shared a frown with Rue. Is she receiving a vision? They contemplated on what they could do to regain her focus.
“Having lived with them for so long,” Audrey continued “they became like a second family to me. I knew so much about them.” She blinked profusely. “One day, several months ago, I had a vision that strongly suggested their deaths. At first, I put it off as a fallacious prediction; I knew better than to blindly trust it.” She kept her eyes shut. “Until the same vision kept happening.”
Rue held up her hands to her mouth. Blair stole a glance at Gus and noticed the normally chipper man looked sick to his stomach.
A tear broke away from Audrey’s eye and streamed down her cheek. “It was so preventable, too. Just a day’s delay,” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to warn them, to stop it from transpiring, but I was also so afraid of what would have happened to me if I told them.”
Blair shivered. How would I face a dilemma like that? They were torn inside, two conflicting thoughts. One side saw them as just regular people who might’ve been saved if they’d learned the truth. But, were they really innocent if they’d just as easily turn on their own salvation?
“I chose not to tell them.” Audrey admitted. “I convinced myself that I did everything I reasonably could to warn them without putting myself in danger — but honestly, the guilt still weighs on me.”
“It was either them or you.” Blair commiserated. “Any one of us here would have done the same.” Audrey kept her eyes shut, but in Blair’s peripherals Gus and Rue nodded in solidarity. Oz sat with his arms crossed, but Blair figured where he stood on the issue.
“Due to the timing and nature of their passing,” Audrey’s voice was more stable, her tone level “their associates here in Luseheim still think they are abroad. But I won’t be able to keep up the façade for much longer.”
“Why not find employment with someone else?” Gus asked. “You’ve done very well for yourself, I imagine I wouldn’t be diff—”
Audrey’s face crumbled. “I can’t keep doing this…” She buried her face in her hands. Rue hurried to her side to console her.
“You’re not considering her burden.” Oz admonished Gus. “By developing attachments to others, the strength of those bonds creates clearer visions. She’s already had to make this crucial decision—just once, as far as we’re aware—but it’s unfair to expect her to pay such a heavy toll again and again.”
Gus slouched in his seat to avoid their gazes. Rue whispered to Audrey as the diviner apologized through steady, ragged crying. The woman finally gathered herself to resume. “Suffice it to say, I cannot stay in this house for very much longer—let alone this city.” She dabbed from her cheeks to her eyes with a handkerchief provided by Rue. “Which brings me to the latest, recurring vision: fissures run through the city streets, spewing a liquid fire high into the air. A burning mountain emerges amidst the chaos and rains down its hellish fury. Just as I resign to blaze, four figures whisk the flames away.”
Blair raised an eyebrow and turned to Oz, his expression mirrored theirs: bewilderment. The volcano is undoubtedly the Zherrai-Myr, but she sees us successfully repelling them? The very concept stirred something within Blair.
Rue returned to her seat. “So these four individuals put a stop to the mayhem?”
Audrey shook her head. “No, and neither of them beckoned me, but each time I always feel this compulsion that I will find safety with them.”
Rue’s eyes lit up. “We’re actually searching for Saeden-Clach, that must be it!”
The diviner cocked her head. “What’s Saeden-Clach?”
“It’s a village of free casters that’s hidden!” Gus piped up, clearly eager to redeem his earlier offense. “There you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping your premonitions to yourself!”
“Our fallback plan is outright fleeing the country.” Oz announced, Blair didn’t want to reward him with a glare. “So, either or, it sounds like you have a path forward.”
Audrey flushed as she shared a look with each of them. “I don’t mean to impose myself on all of you.”
“Nonsense!” Gus thrust his arms outward. “The more the merrier!”
Blair planted their elbow on the table, resting their chin onto their palm. “Besides that, this journey will be much less perilous with someone who can foresee.” They looked over to Rue. “I would feel much safer, even if the visions may not be as accurate.”
“This calamity in your vision.” Oz addressed Audrey. “Do you have any clue as to when it might happen?” This was a pretty good point he raised, they all just arrived to Luseheim earlier that morning, would they have to move on immediately?
Audrey brushed some strands of hair away from her face. “I distinctly remember the streets were glistening, as though it just finished raining.” She nodded to herself. “That’s been a consistent detail.”
“Well, it’ll be nice to catch our breath and get our bearings; even if it is for one night.” Rue announced. “The only thing that remains is getting a general sense of where Saeden-Clach might be.”
Oz shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the duration of his spell. “I think it’s time we wrap this up. This city may not be a hotbed of Bloodcloaks, but there’s more high rankers than I’m willing to chance. Knowing our luck so far, I would be surprised if a Beholden hasn’t caught wind of us.” He threw a cursory glance at Rue. “Figuratively speaking.”
Audrey nodded but raised a finger. “Before you lift it, I did want to mention. This Saeden-Clach you’re talking about: I’ve personally never heard of it, but I think I may know someone who might.”
“You’re kidding.” Gus gaped at the diviner.
Audrey slightly raised her hands. “I’m not making any promises. My friend—she’s also a caster, an enchantress—she’s is deep into that whole Asabriard sect, and I remember her talking about a ‘southern garden’ on more than one occasion.” She planted her palms onto the tabletop. “Maybe it’s this Saeden-Clach you’re searching for.”
Blair frowned as they looked around to their companions, neither of them showed the slightest hint of recognition or connection to the faith Audrey spoke of. Blair didn’t consider themself to be spiritual to any degree, a near lifetime of persecution calloused any feelings towards a higher plane.
“I’ll take any lead at this point.” Rue shrugged. “Anything is better than nothing.
Oz dispelled the surrounding stillness, the mhyra permeated in the air. He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “And where’s this friend of yours?”
Audrey stiffened, whether because of the sensory shift or Oz’s intimidation was unclear. “She lives in Nelenurth.” Oz mirrored Audrey’s reaction, his own face turning a shade of gray. “Just outside of Immaryn’s Rest, about a day or so—depending on conveyance.”
“Oziomon?” Rue asked.
“Nelenurth…” The big man hesitated before responding. “Is there any way to have her meet us outside of the city? Maybe have her confirm it to save us the trip.”
The woman frowned at Oz’s altered body language. “She and I have only been able to correspond by mail, but is there something I need to know?”
Blair frowned at the exchange. Was Oz intentionally withholding information out of distrust for Audrey? Then again, he was hardly forthcoming by any measure.
“All you need to know is that Nelenurth will be a brief stopover, I will not allow any exceptions.” He intoned. “Regardless of what we learn there, we are back on the road that same day.”
Blair wasn’t sure if it was the latent mhyra but there was a heaviness to the atmosphere as Oz stared them all down. In all the time Blair had known Oz, they’ve never seen the former soldier so visibly shaken, so overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty—an unmistakable sign of just how grave and urgent he considered this matter. I have no idea what could be in Immaryn’s Rest that has him acting like this, I don’t think I want to know, either.
“You’re the boss.” Audrey said, her hands again raised slightly in a placating gesture. “Nelenurth, in-and-out that same day.”
Oz relaxed in his seat, but the tension lingered. No one at the table said anything for a time. As far as Blair was concerned, the returning stillness smothered them all where they sat. The silence was eventually broken by a groan of wood protesting under the strain of shifting weight. Gus looked off to his side, then swayed softly as the seat creaked beneath him.
“Well then,” Audrey said, “you all must be hungry.”
The sky outside the window was a clear amethyst borne down by the shadow of night while chasing the fading sunlight. Blair felt a tear escape the corner of their eye and race toward their ear, but they didn’t bother to intercept it. A rejuvenating bath, fresh clothes, and a dressed bed was a trifecta of comfort not felt in recent memory. The bedroom door opened with Rue slipping inside, a towel balled up upon her head. The townhouse had only four bedrooms, yet Blair and Rusuuz were used to bunking together.
They lifted the comforter, inviting Rue to join them in bed. She draped herself over Blair, resting her head on their shoulder. The warmth she brought complemented the already comfortable linens. The both of them sighed deeply in tandem, the scent of the soap Rue used filled their lungs: a calming peppermint that wasn’t overbearing. Words cannot describe how much I needed this. Another tear escaped Blair’s eye.
“This is nice.” Rue said softly. Blair grunted in agreement. “I hope there can be more moments like this.” The subtle sound of her lips parting hinted that she had more to say.
“All we have aside from each other is hope.” Blair said. They focused on Rue’s weight on them, watched as her head rose and fell with each breath they took. Her ribs rested against theirs, inside, Rue’s heart beat and Blair’s answered in kind. “Hey Rue,” Blair asked “do you believe Audrey is being honest with us—about any of this?”
Rue’s arm was draped over Blair’s chest. Her hand held onto their shoulder, softly caressing them. “I think… I think she’s being as honest as she can be. She’s hurt and scared; I can tell that she doesn’t want us to get our hopes up, while she’s doing the very same herself.” She adjusted herself to get more comfortable. “She recognizes—just like the each of us—that we need each other. It’s natural for us to be guarded with one another, so I don’t imagine she’ll be forthcoming, but that doesn’t mean that she’s entirely untrustworthy.”
Blair exhaled sharply through their nose. Of course you would think that. They should have known better than to gauge Rusuuz’s judge of character, she could be trusting to a fault. Blair’s hand drifted towards the nape of Rue’s neck and gently traced the scar just above her spine. If Rue wasn’t so trusting, she wouldn’t even be here—living like this. Blair often felt that it was unfair that they were condemned for something they couldn’t control, something they never asked for; but Rusuuz had even less of a say in her matter.
They rolled their head over to meet Rue’s. Blair held their lips to her’s moistened forehead, damp locks swathed against their nose. Rue held still during the affectionate measure; Blair could feel the pacing of Rue’s heartbeat hasten. Blair kept their face pressed to her head.
“Hey.” Blair murmured.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let anyone call you what you’re not.” Blair spoke through strands of hair. “You’re not a shadow of Veran, understand me?” Rue made no sound nor movement to indicate a response outside of the rising and falling of her breathing. “You’re my shadow, Rue.” Blair felt the tightening of her embrace.