Chapter
29

Aodren

AFTER THE NEXT DAY’S SUMMIT MEETING, I send a message to Segrande, Leif, the Channelers Guild, and the Akarian leadership, requesting a brief meeting in my chamber before the evening meal. When everyone arrives, there isn’t much time to talk. But it would be unwise to put off discussing Sanguine any longer. Now that there have been two deaths—Baltroit and the man who attacked the Channeler in Malam—the efforts to stop the supplier must extend to someone other than Lirra. I have to start trusting other people to help me. To my chagrin, I haven’t spoken with Leif and Segrande about the Channeler oil since our first conversation about the oil rumors. I’ve been too distracted with the melee, Baltroit’s death, and Lirra.

At the thought of her, a dull ache awakens at the base of my skull.

I rub my neck. Once everyone is seated near the grand hearth in my room, I bring up the oil. “I’ve asked you all to come so we might discuss Sanguine.”

Last week, Segrande sent the Guild a letter detailing the reports we’d received from the Malamian lords. Sanguine was mentioned, but I’ve learned so much more since the letter was penned. I quickly divulge most of what I know about the oil. I explain that there is a real oil and a fake oil.

“We received Lord Segrande’s letter, though the information was a little late in coming.” Seeva says with a piercing, scolding look. “When Channelers are in danger, we demand that the Guild be informed immediately. Luckily, we had already been looking into the oil. Months ago, we heard rumors in Malam of this oil, but thought they were mere misunderstandings linked to the new imports of Channeler remedies. After all, true Sanguine is legendary, and the older generations of Malamians have heard of it before. When one of our Channeler sisters was detained in Malam and accused of murder, we investigated further and discovered there is, in fact, another oil being referred to as Sanguine.” Her gaze swings to me, punctuated by the pursing of her lips, as if to say, You should have told us sooner.

I blow out an irritated breath. I should be more sympathetic to their frustration. I could have told them sooner, but I didn’t know what information to share. There was little I knew about the oil. What I know now was mostly handed to me by Lirra.

“It was not my intention to withhold information. I could have shared this information before now. However, I wasn’t certain of the threat until after arriving in Shaerdan for the summit,” I say needing her to understand deception wasn’t my intent. “And even after arriving, I’ve had to sort between rumors and substance.”

Leif cracks his knuckles, seeming irritated. “So, you’ve been gathering information, sir?”

“I have,” say and continue, explaining the two different Sanguines and my belief that whoever is supplying the imposter oil to traders is doing so with the purpose of fooling buyers into believing they’re purchasing the real Sanguine and attaining Channeler magic. Beside me, Leif shifts in his seat. He was restless during the summit meeting as well. Perhaps all this talk makes him feel uncomfortable since it is real Sanguine that saved his life. I sum up my information by explaining the hazards of ingesting the fake oil.

Katallia sends a warm, reassuring smile, but my comments draw frowns from Leif and Segrande. They aren’t pleased to hear that I’ve been working on this without them. I have been remiss by focusing so much on Lirra. What happened last night is for the best.

“It seems we’ve come to similar conclusions.” Seeva, who has been standing near the hearth, crosses to the open seat beside Fa Olema. “You didn’t mention your source, though. Who gave you this information?”

I hesitate, not wanting to betray Lirra. Each person in this room, however, can be trusted with the Elementiary woman’s name. “Astoria. She runs the Elementiary here.”

“A credible source.” Seeva says. “Did she mention anything about who is making the oil?”

I shake my head.

Fa Olema, who has sat mostly silent through our conversation, leans forward in his chair. “What are you doing to stop the trade?”

“I am working with another to identify the supplier,” I say, though that search has been unfruitful.

“Why not start with the traders and work your way back to the supplier?” Seeva asks.

“The only way to prevent a weed from spreading is to tear out its root,” Ku Toa answers before I can. She has been standing beside my window. She walks away from it, her robes sweeping the ground. The evening twinkles from the window behind her. “Alerting the traders might alert the creator.”

She crosses to the chair beside the desk. The wood creaks as she sits down.

I draw strength from her unlikely alliance. “Exactly. If we can find who is making the oil, we can halt production. We will deal with the traders later.”

“The analogy makes sense if you can find the creator through other means,” Seeva says. “What if the only way to find the root of this problem is by starting with the traders?”

I lean forward. “A valid concern. But one we shouldn’t pursue until we’ve exhausted all other methods.”

Seeva taps her finger on the folds of blue fabric hanging off her knee. Her cheeks are drawn down in a frown.

Fa Olema looks at Seeva. “What has you worried?” His ancient voice crawls out of him.

“Quietly seeking out the supplier could take time,” she says and then, turning her attention to me, adds, “In the meantime, the damaging effects of the imposter oil will be blamed on Channelers. Your kingdom is already divided. What if old fears, spurred by this oil, begin to spread again? Your lords’ letters prove it’s already happening. Malam may return to old ways, and other kingdoms may go down the same path.”

“You mean, a path we have already left.” Segrande cuts into the conversation, the first he’s spoken today. The lack of energy in his words softens their impact, and a moment passes before anyone in the room turns to look at him. He leans against the wall near the door. His arms are crossed. He looks haggard and ten years older than the man who accompanied me into Shaerdan.

“Official treatment of Channelers in Malam may have changed, perhaps,” says Seeva, her eyes seeming more lined and tired. The stress is taking a toll on her. “But there are leaps that need to be made before Channelers will feel safe and welcomed in your kingdom.”

“Perhaps they should recognize the efforts that have already been made.” Leif cuts in, his eyes darting between Seeva and his hands. He stands up and abandons his chair for a place beside the window. He looks in the direction of the city of tents, the tournament field, and the Kingdoms’ Market. “If they still don’t feel welcome, that’s on them.”

I have barely registered his callous, misrepresentative comment when Seeva rises. She yanks her flowing blue dress around the chair and points a long, straight finger at Leif. “You have been hailed as a champion for Channelers. And yet you think the rejection, the hatred, the harm, the killing is on us?” Her pitch peaks and then drops to a hiss. She is an ocean storm. “Your ignorance is fathomless.”

Leif blinks, his expression switching from anger to one stricken with shame. Flush faced, he mutters an apology. What has gotten into him?

We spend the remaining time organizing a plan. We agree that we’ll each seek out information identifying the supplier.

“Finding and stopping whoever is at the root of the oil trade is important,” Seeva says. “But I fear it will be equally critical to quash the rumors. And if necessary, educate our kingdoms about the imposter Sanguine.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“The jubilee is the most attended event of all,” Katallia supplies, her voice optimistic. “Thousands will come to the field to see the grand finale. If we need to spread word, perhaps we should do it there.”

“If you spread word of Sanguine, won’t it make Channelers look bad?” Leif asks.

The room’s occupants face him with varying expressions of mild interest, scrutiny, and irritation.

He scratches his neck, leaving three angry red marks. “If you tell the crowd of a fake Channeler oil that kills, then you say the killer oil is being falsely sold as the real Sanguine, won’t that make Channelers look bad?”

It takes a second to sort through his long, loaded question. “I agree,” I say.

Olema straightens his robes. “An unfortunate risk. However, as you’ve made evident, eventually oil consumption results in death.”

The grave understanding of what he’s saying hits me. “It would be remiss of us not to share the truth.”

“But it will divide Malam further,” Segrande says.

Seeva nods. “And yet that is the risk you will have to take. The people must be told.”

Segrande approaches the chairs. “You would support the spread of information that could possibly risk Channeler safety?”

“Channeler safety is our first concern.” Seeva exchanges glances with Katallia. She digs her fingers into the chair back. Her eyes look tired. “We mentioned before that we would have to withdraw support if Channelers are being threatened. And it seems to me that is happening. I’m sorry to say that if you cannot catch the creator and the supplier of the false Sanguine, we will have to formally withdraw our support of Channelers in Malam during the Jubilee.”

I blanch. That would defeat everything I’ve worked for in the last year. It would destroy Malam, and possibly send us spiraling back to the horrific crimes that were seen during the Purge.

“You understand that naming the maker means we’ll be naming a Channeler?”

Seeva stares at me. “We understand that. Channelers that have fallen into dark magic have been named before. You have till the night of the Jubilee finale to find the supplier.”