Shadows Before the Sun (8 page)

I heard whispers from people who passed by us.
Oracle. The oracle.
Clearly she was known here. Clearly from the tone, she was revered here.

Sandra pulled me deeper into the shadow of the column, her eyes glowing brighter than before. Ah. There it was. That Pissed Off Green I knew so well. “Okay. Fine. Here’s the truth. The only time I’m not able to see another’s future is when their fate is intertwined with mine in a significant way.” She let that sink in. “Our fates have collided. Mine, yours, Hank’s. I’m here because I must play whatever part Fate has laid out for me. That is the law of the oracle. And as much as I’d rather be back in my temple knitting a sweater for my python, I cannot break Fate’s Decree, trust me on that.” Her voice broke for the briefest of seconds. Then, she squared her shoulders. “Fate requires me to come and face my destiny and so that is what I must do. And, for the record, I’m not enjoying this any more than you.”

“So what if you refused to play your part, what then?”

“That never works, Charlie. Trust me. I’m old
enough to know and let’s just leave it at that. I cannot escape my destiny. Neither can you.” She glared at me, daring me to challenge her.

And then it hit me. “You tried once before, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“To not follow this decree. You tried and failed. I can see it in your eyes.”

Her expression went stony, and her hands curled into fists. Then, she seemed to regain some control because her eyes went narrow and shrewd. “You are the most irritating human I have ever known. And let me put that into perspective for you: I’m two thousand years old.”

Yeah, a two-thousand-year-old know-it-all,
I wanted to say back.

She swept around me, proceeded to the end of the colonnade, and then went swiftly down the wide marble steps.

“Well, that’s quite an achievement,” I mumbled, feeling a little offended. “Maybe I should add that to my resume.”

We went the rest of the way through the city in silence, which was fine by me. It was all very Utopian. Wide, clean streets. No machines or pollution. Gorgeous architecture that surpassed the great temples of ancient Greece and Rome. Only these buildings weren’t in ruins; they were majestic and pristine.

Don’t let the landscape fool you.

This place was a paradise, no doubt, but I was well
aware that evil existed here just as good existed in the hellish realm of Charbydon. Looks were deceiving and I knew better than to be influenced by my surroundings.

“This is it,” Sandra said, veering across a wide square to a massive templelike building that took up one side of the entire square. “Your mage should be here.”

We jogged up the steps. The doors were open like they were back at the terminal—the weather here was always beautiful—and while the mage’s headquarters held priceless artifacts, books, and powers beyond belief, no need for a lock; the Elders here had other measures in place to secure their treasures.

Inside was a long main gallery, both sides lined with statues of mages holding staffs, books, orbs, and other arcane devices. The tall columns that supported the roof and lined the gallery were black as were the walls. Arched doorways led into rooms off the gallery, but it was the marble floor that commanded my attention and awe. It spread out like a perfect photograph of the night sky, like someone had stretched the universe flat and laid it on the ground, twinkling stars and all. The lofty ceiling was a mirror image of the floor.

Low voices, the soft swish of robes, and echoes filled the place, but it was all tempered by the space, a space designed to make one feel small and yet part of something greater, part of the cosmos, and open to the mysteries that lay within. Sandra, in her veil and robes, with those strange eyes, fit right in.

The delegates had been here, had employed the services of the mages who knew how to manipulate matter and energy, to take a person from one place to the next in the blink of an eye. For a hefty price, of course. There might be portals from one
world
to another, but there were no portals that linked cities within worlds. You traveled the old-fashioned way—by foot, by horse, by flight, by crafting, or you hired a mage.

I pulled out the itinerary Sian had originally prepared for me and Titus, using the same travel template the delegates had used, and proceeded toward the appointed room.

We were stopped several times by mages who recognized Sandra and greeted her with a reverence I knew she adored. And every time we moved on, she gave me a superior smirk, making me wonder which she loved more, the attention or getting on my nerves. “I’m surprised they aren’t asking for your autograph,” I said after the last admirer left us.

“Elysians might be godlike, but one gift they do not possess is divination. They have come to me for ages to get a peek at the future, and they’ve paid in riches you cannot even imagine in your paltry human mind.”

“Which,” I pointed out, “makes one wonder why you set up shop in Underground Atlanta of all places. Why not buy a small country and live like a queen?”

“Well, that particular information would cost you, now wouldn’t it?”

“Do you do anything without a price, Sandra?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

We passed libraries, apothecaries, classrooms, and with all the interruptions, I was pretty sure we missed our destination. I scanned the paper. “I think we were supposed to stop at the room we just passed . . .”

Sandra stopped suddenly and held out her hand.

“What?”

“Your itinerary. Give it to me.”

I gave it over, pointing at the paper. “That’s what it says for travel, it’s the ninth door down on the right. That’s also where they sell the
grimwyrd
I’ll need to . . .” She tore the paper and threw the pieces into the air. They floated down to the polished floor. “What are you doing?”

“Forget about the schedule, and the
grimwyrd
. You really want to shove a needle in your arm every day you’re in Fiallan? You’re traveling in style now. Watch and see what being celebrated three worlds over gets you. Perhaps then you will develop some respect for your elders.”

I gave her an unimpressed look. “Doubtful.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “I knew you’d say that.”

She continued on as I glanced around, expecting someone to appear and give us hell about littering on the amazing floor. But the paper stirred as though a breeze had come, though none had, and fire ate up the paper in a soft whoosh until it ceased to exist—ashes and all. Just like that.

A self-cleaning floor. God, these mages are brilliant.

I caught up to Sandra, wondering if my crafting sister knew how to make a floor clean itself, and wondering how the hell to get around the human/siren issue if not a daily injection of
grimwyrd
.

“Okay, so if not
grimwyrd
then what exactly? It’s what the human delegates used. It’s what every human going into siren territory uses.”

“You’ll see,” was all the answer Sandra deigned to give.

On Earth, sirens were required by law to wear voice-mods to subdue their natural lure and insanely potent voices. Sirens gladly wore the device since the idea of being followed around by a bunch of drooling men, women, children, and some animals was not exactly their idea of a good time. But here, things were different. This was
their
world where humans were a very small minority. It was up to the human traveler to protect themselves.

Because of my otherworldly genes, I was developing a partial immunity to the natural siren lure, but I didn’t want to chance it. I needed my wits about me, and
grimwyrd
was the only thing that blocked the lure.

The gallery dead-ended at a tall arched doorway. The hallway split, going left and right. Before we came to the intersection, the massive doors opened and three mages swept toward us. The two on the left and right were male, fit, with strawberry blond hair and dark, intelligent-looking eyes. Brothers,
maybe even twins. They both wore the long forest green robes that signified their level as Magnus, which put them at a couple hundred years old even though they looked to be in their mid-thirties. The only level above Magnus was Elder, and the Magni had a couple hundred years
more
of study and training to reach that distinction, if ever. The woman who stepped from the middle with her hands reached out to Sandra’s in greeting, however, already had. She was an Elder.

Whatever she said to Sandra was lost on me because she spoke in the common tongue of Elysia, but it gave me time to study the newcomer. The woman had a kind face, hair on the blonder side of strawberry that had gone white at the temples pulled back into a high bun. Her robe was white, without a single embellishment. She was nearly as tall as me, and attractive with high cheekbones and proud nose.

“Forgive me,” she said, turning in my direction. “Sometimes I forget not everyone can understand our language. I’m Edainnué Lightwater.”

I held out my hand. “Charlie Madigan.”

Her smile grew wider, and she seemed so pleased. “Oh, I know. I know who you are, dear.” She introduced her nephews, Brell and Trahern Lightwater, and then invited us into her private study beyond the massive doors.

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see you, oracle. It has been too long, much too long. And to come with this one! A surprise to be sure. Tell me,
Charlie Madigan,” she said as she sat down behind a low marble desk, “how do you feel?”

I was halfway down to one of the chairs opposite the desk when the odd question made me pause for a second. “I’m fine. How is it you know me exactly?”

“Hard not to know the person who called primordial darkness from one world to another.” She leaned against the high back of her chair and steepled her fingers under her chin, her shrewd bright blue eyes intent and curious. “It’s quite a feat, what you did. Some claimed impossible until you proved them wrong.”

I thought of Emma; I’d move mountains for her if I could. I ended up moving darkness. “It could’ve been anyone,” I said. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Dead, I hear, when you were given gifts of the noble and Adonai. Not what I would call the right time, eh?”

As nice as Edainnué Lightwater seemed, I hadn’t come to Ithonia to be interviewed or to chat about all the things that had happened to me. I’d come for my partner. “I survived. I see that as being in the right.”

Lightwater laughed and said to Sandra, “She does have spirit, you’re right.”

Sandra leaned over the arm of her chair toward me. “Just so you know,
spirited
is not the word I used to describe you.”

This made Lightwater laugh again, and my impatience rose. “I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Lightwater, but—”

“Right, right. Fiallan, I know. Reclusive, the sirens of Fiallan, even from their own kind. Quite cut off from the rest of the world. Though, they choose to be that way. I will have Trahern and Brell take you both, but first you will need a few things for your journey and I would beg an audience with the oracle in return.”

“Accepted,” Sandra said, not giving me a chance to speak.

My cheeks grew warm and I squeezed my fists tightly. How long was an audience? Hank could be in trouble, hurt, dying for all we knew and they wanted to hang out and chat about the future?

“Charlie.” Sandra’s voice pulled me out of my internal tirade. Lightwater was eyeing me with interest, and her nephews stared at me with concern. “Your hand.”

I glanced down and saw the symbols on my right fist were beginning to glow. Shit. I pulled my hand back into the sleeve of my jacket and drew in a steadying breath. “It . . . does that sometimes,” I tried to explain, but it just sounded lame. “It’s just that . . . time is crucial, and I have to get to Fiallan as soon as possible.”

“You have the right of it, to want to move quickly. I understand. Your delegates came through a few days ago, and I believe they were attempting to free a siren who was wrongly accused, though the specifics were not told to me.” Lightwater studied me with ancient eyes, wise and knowing. “You will need a few things, of course.”

She stood, pushed her chair aside, and then bent to root in the large cabinet behind her. “First,” she said over her shoulder, “a cloak of the apprentice, and then . . . ah, there it is.” Lightwater gathered her finds and came around her massive desk, setting them on the corner. “Here, put this on.” She handed me a dark blue robe. “Fiallan doesn’t get many foreigners, but the occasional human student of the arcane isn’t unheard of.”

I stood and took the robe, grateful and suspicious at the same time. There was no reason for her to help me. True, the Adonai had no love for the sirens of Fiallan—even sirens from other cities had no care for their brothers and sisters—but to offer all this. Was it because of Sandra or some other reason?

“And this.” Lightwater presented an amulet.

I took it and examined the tear-shaped milky blue stone etched with a spiral of symbols from top to bottom. “What is it?”

“You’re about to enter the land of the sirens, Charlie. They wear no voice-mods like they must in the human world. You might be changing, evolving into a being capable of withstanding their voices like we do, but you’re not there yet, so let’s just play it safe and wear this at all times.” Ah, so here was the Elder’s version of
grimwyrd
.

“Wouldn’t want you drooling after every siren who crosses our path,” Sandra quipped.

I shot her a hard glare. “I’d
planned
to buy some
grimwyrd
.”

Lightwater only chuckled. “Two spirited ones, I’d say. And this is for language.” The Elder came at me with her pointer finger.

Instinctively, I stepped back. “What are you doing?”

“She’s making it so you can understand and converse in all languages,” Sandra said with a sigh. “Really, Charlie, try to keep up. It’s a simple syndialexi spell. Relax. Travelers do it all the time.”

Lightwater gave me a motherly smile. “It won’t hurt a bit.” Her pointer finger pressed against my temple as she muttered words unknown to me. Warmth radiated from her touch and spread through my skin. Gentle and un-intrusive and then it was gone almost as soon as it began.