The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

“On days he was strong enough to get up and walk around, he would come into the library, where I worked. We became friends—very good friends. And that was all we were allowed to become. He could not do more than speak to a girl, for it was believed fleshly contacts would tarnish his gift.

“Part of me wishes that our story is only that of a pair of star-crossed lovers—my life would have been simpler. But no, we both happened to be in the midst of a crisis of faith, concerning our devotion to the Bane. And in that sense, I was the best and worst possible friend he could have made—and vice versa.

“It rather horrified me to learn that the Bane did not ask questions about the best direction for the realm, or the most qualified person to lead a given initiative. Instead, many of his questions ran along the lines of Who will be my greatest threat in the next year?

“But my dismay was only beginning. When Icarus was a child, he had often become unconscious at the end of an oracular session, and would have no recollection of either the question or the answer he gave. As he grew older and gained greater control over his gift, however, he began to be able to recall what took place during his sessions with the Bane.

“At night, on his bed, he would silently say those names that he had given as answers over the years. He repeated the string of names to me, those hard weights on his conscience. And when he came to one particular name, I—”

Mrs. Hancock closed her eyes momentarily. “I heard my sister’s name. My sister was seventeen when she disappeared on a camping trip with her friends. She was seen getting into her tent at night, but in the morning she was not there. Her friends searched and searched. My parents and I—and everyone we ever knew, plus a great many mages we never knew—we combed the entire place top to bottom, but there was no trace of her. The area had been known to have giant serpents in the past and no one in the family could bear to mention it, but we had each become convinced that my beautiful sister had become some terrible beast’s supper, for there could be no other explanations.

“But now her name came up. I asked Icarus if he remembered the question. He did. The question was, Who is the most potent elemental mage who has yet to attain adulthood?

“My sister was an elemental mage. And my mother used to say that my sister was the most powerful elemental mage she had ever come across. She ought to know—she had been a headmistress for many years.

“Icarus and I stared at each other, stunned, paralyzed almost, by the possible implications of our discovery. But how could we know whether it was a coincidence, her name passing his lips followed by her disappearance a week later, or whether there had been sinister forces at work?

“The idea was Icarus’s. He was near the end of his month and the Bane would soon be making use of him. But in two weeks, when he had recovered his strength, he wanted me to ask him a question: The next time the Bane asks about the most potent elemental mage who has yet to attain adulthood, what would happen to that elemental mage?

“We did as we planned. I asked the question, trembling all over, and he sank into a deep trance. After almost a quarter of an hour, he spoke in a deep, eerie voice: ‘That elemental mage will be used in sacrificial magic.’ ”

Iolanthe felt as if she had been skewered through the chest. “But sacrificial magic—that is taboo.”

“No,” Kashkari muttered, as if to himself. “No. No. No.”

“You already think the worst of the Bane,” said Mrs. Hancock. “Can you imagine the force of the blow, upon two young people who had not yet become entirely disillusioned? It felt like an earthquake, the foundation of an entire life breaking apart.

“The next month I asked Icarus what the Bane would hope to achieve, the next time he performed sacrificial magic. To prolong his life was the answer we received. That made no sense. If the Bane were at the end of his life, perhaps one could understand the sordid desperation that drove him to sacrificial magic. But he was a man in his prime. So the next month we asked how old he would be on his next birthday. One hundred seventy-seven was the answer.

“I remember how nauseated I felt, how clammy. The very idea of it was repugnant and horrifying—that he had given himself this unnaturally long life by sacrificing young elemental mages like my sister.

“It was the last question I was able to ask Icarus, before he was whisked back to the Commander’s Palace at the end of summer. But I had been offered a permanent position at the library and we made a pact to each find out as much as we could and meet again the next summer.