Harlick flinched, gasping out a noise that was half a sob and half a laugh. “The Seventh Order guards the Mysteries,” he said, the words sounding like a quotation. “It practices its arts in service of the Faith. It has always been thus.”
“There was a war, centuries ago. Between the Orders, a war begun by the Seventh Order.”
Harlick shook his head. “The Seventh went to war with itself. It was sundered from within, the other Orders were drawn into the conflict. The war was long and terrible, thousands died. When it was over those of the Seventh who remained were feared beyond reason by the people and the nobility. Conclave decided the Seventh would disappear from the fiefs and be seen no more by the people. Its house was destroyed, its books burnt, its brothers and sisters scattered and hidden. But the Faith requires there to be a Seventh Order, visible or no.”
“You mean the Seventh was never truly destroyed? It works in secret?”
“I’ve told you too much. Ask me no more.”
“Do the Aspects know?”
Harlick shut his eyes tight and said nothing.
Suddenly furious Vaelin grabbed the man, lifting him clear of the stool, forcing him against the wall. “DO THE ASPECTS KNOW?”
Harlick shrank from him, quailing in his grasp, words bubbling from his lips amidst panicked spittle. “Of course they know. They know everything.”
Memories came in a flood as Harlick’s words struck home. The shift in Master Sollis’s eyes when he first said ‘Once there were seven’, Aspect Elera’s instant of fear at the same words, the way Sollis had exchanged glances with her after they told the tale of One Eye’s Dark abilities. And the knowledge behind Aspect Arlyn’s eyes. Am I a fool? he wondered. For not seeing this? The Aspects have been lying to the Faithful for centuries.
He released Harlick and went back to the fire. The books were little more than ash now, the leather bindings curled and charred black amidst the embers. “The other Gifted, they don’t know, do they?” he asked, glancing back at Harlick. “They don’t know what you are.”
Harlick shook his head.
“You have a mission here?”
“I cannot tell you anything further, brother.” Harlick’s voice was strained but determined. “Please do not ask me.”
“As you wish, brother.” He went to the doorway, gazing out at the moonlit ruins. “I would be grateful if you would omit mention of Brother Nortah’s survival in any report you make to your Aspect.”
Harlick shrugged. “Brother Nortah is not my concern.”
“Thank you.”
He wandered the ruins for hours, memories playing though his mind in a torrent. They knew, all this time. They knew. He couldn’t decide if his confusion was born of betrayal or something deeper. The Aspects embody the virtues of the Faith. They are the Faith. If they have lied…
“I really wish you’d come with us.” He looked up finding Nortah perched atop a massive piece of fallen statuary. It took Vaelin a moment to recognise it as the marble head of a bearded man, his carved expression one of deep contemplation. Surely one of the city’s luminaries commemorated in stone. Was he a philosopher or a king? A god perhaps. Vaelin leant against the statue’s forehead, running a hand over the deep lines in his brows. Whoever or whatever he had been was forgotten now. No more than a great stone head waiting for the ages to turn him to dust in a city where no one was left to remember his name.
“I… can’t,” he told Nortah eventually.
“You don’t sound so certain now.”
“Perhaps I’m not. Even so, there is much I need to know. I’ll only find answers in the Order.”
“Answers to what?”
There’s something growing. A threat, a danger, something that threatens us all. I’ve felt it for a long time, although it’s only now I realise it. Vaelin left it unsaid. Nortah had a new path now, a new family. Sharing would only burden him. “We’re all looking for answers, brother,” he said. “Though you appear to have found yours.”
“That I have.” Nortah leapt down from the statue and held out his sword. “You should take this as well as the talisman. It’ll add to your proof.”
“You may need it, the road to the Northern Reaches will be long and hazardous. These people will need your protection.”
“There are other forms of protection. I’ve spilled enough blood with this. I intend to live the rest of my days without taking another life.”
Vaelin took the sword. “When will you leave?”
“There’s no point waiting for winter. Convincing the others may be difficult though. Some of them have been here for years.” He paused, his expression oddly sheepish. “I didn’t kill the bear.”
“What?”
“During the Test of the Wild. I didn’t kill it. The shelter I built collapsed in the wind. I was desperate, freezing, wandering in the snow. I found a cave and thought the Departed had guided me to shelter. Unfortunately, the bear who lived there didn’t appreciate visitors. It chased me for miles, all the way to the edge of a cliff. I managed to grab on to a branch, the bear wasn’t so lucky. Kept me fed for a while though.”