The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

VI

The Mines of Kyanopolis

Five years ago …

In which Edana rebuilds her life and upsets the balance

The day had gotten off to a bad start. From Lady Nensela’s home in the suburbs Edana traveled into Kyanopolis proper, arriving in the city at dawn. She brought with her small pouches of food and money, and a heart full of determination: until the sun went down she would canvas the silver sellers. She wouldn’t leave, she decided, until she found a promising prospect for herself.

Though Lady Nensela had been generous to her, Edana was still determined to return to Silura. Of all possible routes to that goal, she decided the best path was to apprentice herself to a silver or goldsmith. Over the years her parents taught her enough to make her a worthy pupil for a master artisan.

Finding a worthy master was another matter altogether, she discovered. None of the silver merchants on Trident Avenue, where she began her quest, approached the quality of her father’s craftsmanship. Some of their pieces were dull in execution and style, others were too gaudy.

After several inspections, Edana began to suspect many of the silversmiths of using the same supplier of wax molds; their pieces were too close in form or style. Other pieces were passable, but she judged them overpriced for their quality, and their creators hadn’t even worked enchantments into them. Rude merchants who insulted their customers weren’t worth her time.

But many others were outright frauds, and Edana grew increasingly frustrated as the morning wore on. The heat in Kyanopolis did nothing to brighten her mood, and under her breath she bitterly wished to return to Silura, with its temperate weather.

At least her clothing helped, somewhat. Lady Nensela had introduced her to a wondrous fabric she said was muslin. She brought yards of it with her from her journey across the Gold Sea, and had her slaves make them into pretty chitons and matching shawls for Edana to wear.

Edana had gratefully accepted the gowns, which she suspected the seer had originally intended for her own daughter.

“Just one more stall,” she told herself. She sidestepped half a dozen strapping slaves who bore a litter, the curtains for which concealed their owner from view.

At first glance the next stall seemed promising. In the blazing sun the silver vessels on display gleamed brightly, almost blindingly so. Several customers lingered over the bowls lining the front of the stall as Edana approached. The owner bustled over, but she waved him off before he could begin his pitch.

“I’ll let you know if I need you,” she said politely, selecting one bowl in particular. She ran her hands along its engraving of grapes and their leaves. At this time of year the grapes would not yet have sprouted on Bessa’s vines, she remembered. If she could find one good smith who would take her on…

A commotion interrupted her reverie. She glanced back. The litter she’d passed was now stopped behind her. The slaves set it down, and a well-dressed man parted the curtains and stepped out. He brushed lint from the stark white toga draped over his crimson tunic as he glanced about. In keeping with the latest trend, the gold embroidery trimming his clothes formed a dragonesque pattern at the edges. Dyed sandals matched his tunic.

The merchant hurried back to Edana’s side of the stall, immediately engaging the man, who answered his patter in what Edana had learned was a Valentian accent.

“You look like a man who appreciates fine things,” the merchant said. “Surely you’ll agree your meals will taste all the better on these fine silver dishes I have here…”

Edana only half listened as she examined the bowl. The merchant was clever, but not clever enough. The weight and tint of the bowl told on him, as did the small crescents she made in the bowl’s bottom underside with her thumbnail. She surreptitiously scratched the dent with her ring.

As she had learned to expect by now, the finish chipped and flaked. Her shoulders slumped. Another dead end.

“…buying a gift for my mother, actually,” the Valentian was saying. He turned to Edana and nodded pleasantly. “Mother is fond of grape patterns, like the ones on the bowl this young lady is holding.”

The merchant grinned widely. “Such a loving son. And a mere six hundred aurum is all it would take to show your mother how loving you are.”

“Well, I rather think she takes my love for granted,” the Valentian demurred. “I don’t need to spoil her quite so much.”

“Take a closer look and tell me five hundred and eighty aurum isn’t the perfect price to honor her,” the merchant laughed, absently reaching for the bowl Edana had just set down.

Edana tightened her grip. He looked up, eyes wide, and the Valentian raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, so you are interested in this piece,” the merchant said, his smile suggesting he thought a bidding war was imminent.

“Shopping for your own mother, young lady?” the Valentian asked, winking at her. “Or for your dowry?”

Edana glared at the merchant. “If I were I wouldn’t waste even a brass coin on this fake. If this were real silver I couldn’t make this dent with my fingernail.” She slapped the bowl into the Valentian’s hands, upside down to show him the blemish she’d made. “Look,” she insisted.

He squinted at the bowl. “It’s bluish when you scratch it…?”

The merchant’s mouth fell open at her sheer brazenness. His face took on the patina of cooked crab.

“Exactly,” Edana agreed, taking the bowl back from him. “Blue from the lead. Real silver is stronger than this as well, because real silver is alloyed with copper, not tin.”

In her coin purse Edana carried a silver spoon, borrowed from Lady Nensela. The time had come for it to serve her purpose she judged, striking the bowl with it. Tock!

“Did you hear that?” someone cried.

“That didn’t sound like silver!” another exclaimed.

Until then Edana hadn’t noticed the other customers, who were now rapt with attention. The second shopper was a fresh-faced young woman who looked all of fifteen.

“I clean the silver for my mistress,” the girl continued, swelling with pride. A slave, marked so by her undyed, beige linen chiton. “She’s right! Look!”

The slave took two silver coins from her own purse. When she tapped them together, a sharp ping resonated for several heartbeats, a contrast to the bowl’s dull tones.

“You’re selling pewter,” Edana accused, turning back to the sputtering merchant.

Nostrils flaring, the merchant finally managed to articulate a response. “I don’t know what you think you know, brat, but this bowl and all my other goods are fine examples of the finest silversmithing money can buy!”

“So you’re not taking the blame for making these frauds? Well, I will credit the industriousness you put into your efforts to cheat everyone. Six hundred aurum for tin and lead, and you didn’t even blush. The bowl would have fetched a decent enough price if you were honest about what it is. But you’re on the wrong street; you should be in Abalone Square with the other pewtermongers. Then again, this isn’t even good pewter.”

He began to swear, his face going from crab red to liver purple. He shouted at the top of his lungs for his slaves.

Edana froze. Why hadn’t it occurred to her he had slaves with him? Of course he did, how else would he keep thieves from robbing him?

And Edana herself had not thought to bring any of Nensela’s slaves with her. In Falcon’s Hollow she never needed a guard … but Kyanopolis was not Falcon’s Hollow. The little knife she looted from a dead bandit in the Scrubs now seemed wholly inadequate. If the merchant succeeded in avenging himself via corporal punishment, a truth-seer or echomancer might decide in Edana’s favor in court, but tomorrow, not right now.

As fast as she could Edana ran, dodging through the crowd and leaping over obstructions, the fraudulent merchant’s threats and nasty curses spurring her on. Determined footsteps behind her made her look back. To her surprise, the Valentian was close on her heels, apparently leaving his own slaves at the stall.

“Why did you do that?” the Valentian asked. He didn’t sound the slightest bit winded.

Edana didn’t stop threading her way through the crowd. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The man was fit, easily keeping pace with her. Shaking him off was out of the question, as he was also tall enough to spot her in the crowd.

“You could have let him cheat me. Why didn’t you?”

Edana arched an eyebrow. “If you have to ask I don’t think you’d understand my answer.”

She quickened her step. She had not intended to speak so boldly; the surge of anger she’d felt at the merchant faded now. Though her floor-length chitons marked her as an adult since her first bleed, the notion of speaking to an adult adult without her usual deference was still daunting a year later. If Mama had heard her—

No. Now was not the time to cry.

The man laughed, rich and deep. “Well let’s see—I would understand if he were a rival you wished to best. I find it’s not always enough to be better than the other fellow. One has to make sure everyone else knows, especially the rival. But you’ve made no attempt to sell me anything. You’ve only saved me money and my pride. I like people who save me money. And my pride, for that matter.”

She did a double take. Was this flirting? Oh, by the Speaker, he was old. Thirty years old at least! It dawned on her that the dresses Lady Nensela had generously given her could mislead someone into thinking she possessed a large dowry. If her parents were still alive it would have been true...

“You’re welcome,” she said dryly.

Turning her back on him, she continued on, to a little alley connected to the main street. The silversmiths near the city library seemed nicer; she would try them next.

The man persisted. “Hold, there, young lady. I have an offer for you—oh, don’t look so wary, I mean well. You are honest, and I need honest. You seem to have nothing to gain, other than my goodwill, which is worth much. Or can be, if you hear me out.”

Oh?

“I’m listening.”

The man gestured at the crowded street. “Right here, then? As you wish. My name is Silas Atreus Helenus. Of the Valentian Atreidai? Hmm, I can tell you’re not impressed, so I’ll get to the point: if you’ve been to Valentis you might have noticed the price of silver will cost you your firstborn, and at least a leg off the second child, too. The priests and the sorcerers have driven up the prices considerably. But the mines here in Kyanopolis are still rich, and they’ve recently tapped another vein. I want in, but it must be worth it, understand?”

“Naturally. You want to see if you’d make back your money if you bought control of the mine.”

Typically, the higher social classes bought the right to control certain infrastructures vital to the empire, including minting the money or collecting taxes. Given his hyperbole about the cost of silver in Valentis, Edana suspected Lord Atreus would lose his family’s fortune if he tried buying the mines over there. The silver market in Valentis would likely collapse before he made back what it cost to buy the mines.

Should she help him or not? If she became his agent it would be different from the apprenticeship she’d spent the day seeking, in one vital way: she would not spend a few years in indentured servitude to him. She could go home sooner.

But her morning’s quest taught her that not all businessmen were worth partnering with. She couldn’t let her yearning to go home blind her.

“What are your terms, Lord Atreus Helenus?”

“‘Lord Atreus’ will do. Five silver gryphons for every report, and I’ll throw in a bonus for the pride-saving you did for me today. Plus fifteen silver gryphons for the leg work you do in getting me the report.”

Edana started right away, keeping track of the price of silver, both in ingots fresh from the mine, and works wrought by silversmiths. Every night she used Lady Nensela’s oraculum to read the numbers off to his secretary in Valentis. In turn, Atreus would compare the prices in Kyanopolis to the ones in Valentis.

“We’re up to two legs over here,” he said once after another report.

While Edana earned a decent living, it still was not enough to get her home. After several months she concluded she had been thinking too small: she had originally sought a job. She needed to own a business, as her parents had owned theirs.

Atreus proved he would deal fairly with her as an employer. Likely he would deal fairly as a partner, too. After dinner one night she put the notion to Lady Nensela.

“There is charity, and then there’s self-interest,” Lady Nensela pointed out. “You would stand a better chance in the long term if you show him you’re bringing something worth his while to the arrangement. What will that be?”

Edana turned the question over in her mind as she poured over the records she’d faithfully kept for Atreus. Any secretary could do her job. Once Atreus made up his mind about investing he’d have no real use for her, and she would be back where she started. What could she do to prove her value?

The answer struck her, sharp as a silver bell. She jumped from her chair, causing it to tumble back in her excitement. At last she saw a way to gain the funds she needed to return to Silura, where she would have Bessa and Matrona Aurelia. That ambition had sustained her through the worst of her pain, and was the only reason she got out of bed every morning.

In her grief Edana had forgotten about the guilds her parents belonged to, but investigating the artisans reminded her of their existence. The guilds raised money to assist in each other’s burial, and to support each other in times of need. After careful scrutiny, she chose one to pitch her plan to. If anyone could help her get back home, they could.

When Lord Atreus sent a message of his impending return to Kyanopolis, Edana rose before dawn the next day. Lady Nensela offered Edana her carriage into town, enabling Edana to arrive safely at her chosen guild by dawn. The silversmith guild was just off a busy square, in a small building sporting a marble façade, suggestive of their level of success.

As she was told they would, the guild members gathered early. When she asked for an audience they smiled indulgently, apparently taking her for a prospective client.

They kept their smiles as she told them she was from Silura, and was the daughter of a silversmith and a goldsmith.

Their smiles faltered when she reached the part of her story where the caravan left Kyanopolis, traveling through the Scrubs.

When she recounted the massacre their smiles vanished altogether.

“Oh, another one,” the elder seethed, his lips curling. “You do know you’re not the first doe-eyed waif coming here with that particular sob story? On and on they wail about their dead folks, who meantime are living quite well for people who are supposed to have been eaten by hydra. Which don’t do well in the desert, by the way, but at least you didn’t try that line. At least you knew to say gryphons were involved. You did your research. Good for you. Now get out of here before we bring in the truth-seers.”

It took Edana several heartbeats to comprehend his accusation. There were people falsely claiming to have survived the horror she’d endured?

“I don’t—”

The elder cut her off. “You did do the research, didn’t you? Why else are you here, talking to us? Because you know how many of us lost family and friends in the Scrub Massacre?”

Edana stepped back, stunned. Never had she imagined the guild was connected to her tragedy. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to exploit that connection even if she had known. She had to make them understand, and fast.

What would Mama do?

Edana drew herself up to her full height and met the elder’s eyes in her most mature manner. “You have me wrong, good man. Bring your truth-seer, by all means.” She pointed out the silver on display in the hall. “I know how you made these. I can answer any question you put to me. Test me, and know I am the child of one of your own.”

Without waiting for a reply, Edana launched into a critique of their craftsmanship, and an analysis of the techniques they had to have used. Did not Papa and Mama cultivate a discerning eye for quality? She leaned hard on their teachings now.

Deliberately, she wove into her analysis the carefully guarded secrets only silversmiths would know. And in studying the artisans of Kyanopolis, she realized her father had his own innovations. She took care to hint of them.

“How do you know this?” The elder, Zebediah, leapt from his chair and descended the dais to stride over to her. He loomed over her, his fists on his hips.

Edana kept her nerve, smiling serenely at him. “Do you now believe I am who I say I am?”

Zebediah’s beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. It streamed in front of him as he whipped his head around to check the reaction of the other guild members. Their expressions of anger and contempt had changed to wary interest.

“And if we do?” Zebediah asked, watching her face.

“If you will acknowledge me as one of your number, I have an offer for you. Regardless, I will keep your trade secrets, in honor of the vow my parents made when they joined the guilds. I will keep this vow, even though your rejection of my claim will free me from that bond. Is that not according to the Sayings of Truth?”

Now came Edana’s turn to study the elder. Had she convinced him of her own honor? Zebediah would have no right to bind her to the oaths her parents had taken unless he first honored her claim.

But right was right. Whether Zebediah acknowledged her as his own or not, Edana still knew better, and she would not betray her parents’ oaths.

It now struck Edana that Zebediah’s eyes were the same color as her own…and her father’s. In fact, several of the men spoke with accents that made her heart ache.

From the first time since she came to Kyanopolis, she began crossing paths with more of Papa’s people. She was curious about them. Was it too much to hope the guild might show her compassion on the grounds of kinship, if professional courtesy was not forthcoming?

The men were taken aback, and one of them studied her in frank appraisal. He rose up and joined Zebediah on the floor in front of her.

“In exchange for money, you will keep our secrets? This is your proposal?”

“Not at all. Let me make this clear: I did not come here to harm you. I came here in good faith, for an arrangement we would all benefit from. Of all the guilds I chose this one, because of the exceptional quality and beauty of your work. Think of me as an axis, one that will join you and another together so you both shall prosper, as will I. If you will hear me out, I think you will agree I am no viper.”

“Oh?” Zebediah raised an eyebrow.

“I have seen for myself how frustrating it is to compete with a fraud. What if you didn’t have to? Partner with us and I think I can put an end to your troubles,” she said. “More than this, my partner is highly connected. Your pieces could be sold in other parts of the empire, particularly Valentis.”

Zebediah and the second man stepped away, to confer with the others. After a while, one of them said,

“I have seen you in the marketplace and the shops. I saw you thwart Nicander, a cheap, incompetent, and deceitful lout who passes off his work as though it were ours. That alone has my gratitude; there is one less to drive down our prices and compete unfairly against us. Very well, young woman. We will hear you out.”

Her heart somersaulted in her triumph.

“You want me to pay you in shares? Of the mine?” Atreus asked.

Lord Silas Atreus met with Edana for dinner at Lady Nensela’s house. Lady Nensela aided Edana’s plan by instructing her slaves to spare no effort in the preparation of a sumptuous meal. She astonished Edana by including a legendary wine from Pelasgos. The wine came in an amphora stamped 125 PC-IV, indicating the vintage was harvested during the Fourth Dark Age, one hundred and twenty-five years after the Fourth Cataclysm. Long ago Nensela stored the amphora under the sea, near her home in Valentis, where it then aged undisturbed for three hundred and twenty years. The results were marvelous.

Atreus had arrived in a cheerful mood, which hadn’t dimmed even when Edana made her suggestion. All the same, butterflies danced in her stomach. He could simply sever her employment if he thought it was demeaning to do business with the penniless daughter of artisans.

Edana had learned he was gryphon class, though, and unlike the dragon class, the members of the gryphon class weren’t above openly doing business. At least, the right kind of business.

“My oraculum is comfortably furnished if you wish to stargaze, Lord Atreus,” Lady Nensela said. “You may enjoy it; I find it relaxes me.”

She looked pointedly at Edana, and Edana wondered how much of her nervousness showed on her face.

In the oraculum, Edana claimed one of the two chairs set by the pool. A pitcher of wine and two cups sat on the small table between them, plus saucers of little cakes. Stacks of Edana’s ledgers took up the rest of the space.

A slave manipulated the gears to retract the shutters over the dome, then retreated to the far corner of the room. Her chaperone.

Atreus had brought the ledgers his secretary made from Edana’s reports. He set his down and opened hers, running his index fingers down one column or another. Every so often he’d make noises of approval. Edana’s hands clenched and unclenched on the fabric of her dress as she focused intently on the stars reflected in the great pool at her feet.

She’d already done the math. Atreus could easily buy control of the mine and profit handsomely enough to make back his investment and more. Enough to afford to be generous about taking on a partner and splitting some of the profits. But altruism seemed an amusing concept to him.

I find it’s not always enough to be better than the other fellow. One has to make sure everyone else knows, he had said.

Well. Time to begin her pitch. “You wanted to have the ingots shipped to Valentis. But if you did that you would save money on the one hand, but waste it on the other. Notice the column where I show you the transport tax and shipping fees? That’s the price for sending ingots to Valentis. Compare it to the price for finished items.”

“Yes, I noticed,” he said, sounding wistful.

“What if instead you spent that money on brilliant artisans right here who will make pieces to sell? Some pieces may be set aside as part of a tithe, which they can send to you—at less cost in a box or a trunk, which won’t be as much cause for tears if lost at sea. Unlike a barge of ingots.”

Atreus’s lips curved. “You were paying attention when I said I like people who save me money. I have decided you are my new favorite person, Young Edana.”

She smiled uncertainly; she was never sure how to take his jests. The butterflies sat still for a moment as she calmly answered, “I haven’t come yet to the best part: naturally your name would be stamped on the finished pieces, so that people here know your name, and people in Valentis will know how wide-ranging your investments. Naturally. But there’s something else that will enhance your good name.”

“You have my full attention.”

Edana recounted for him her attempts to find honest silversmiths, and reminded him of how they met. “That is the real reason silver costs so much in Valentis, I think. Too many cheaters selling debased metal, flooding the market with their wares. The smiths who are assayed as selling true silver can command a higher price, especially from the priests and sorcerers, who in turn monopolize the customers’ side of the market. They overpay to keep everyone else from getting the real silver.”

“True enough. Do you have some spell up your sleeve to make the others more honest?”

“My sleeves cannot hide an alethomantis,” she said dryly. “A truth-seer. They’re the key. If a smith testified he made genuine silver pieces, the truth-seer can certify the truth of his words. If true, the seer can stamp his own seal on the pieces.”

“Now there’s a new idea. Brilliant, actually,” he judged. He began sipping wine from one of Lady Nensela’s cameo-glass goblets. The white cameo portion depicted the Seeker against a field of cobalt. With a contented sigh Atreus gazed at the stars.

“I’m glad you think so. We can also have the pieces enchanted or blessed at a lower price here than you’d obtain in Valentis. No one would have to give up their firstborn plus their second baby’s legs for our silver.”

“No,” he laughed. “But…why should you have a share in this?”

The butterflies began fluttering again at top speed. She pictured a caterpillar taskmaster whipping them.

“Because I know quality, and can procure the talented smiths for you to choose for your shop. As I am honest, you can trust me to oversee things. I am prepared to buy my way in.”

“I didn’t realize I was paying you that well.”

This earned him a lopsided smile. “You aren’t. But I am resourceful, and I have already vouched for my intentions with the authorities.”

Now for her cornerstone, Edana decided, and brought out a small leather box fastened shut with a leaf-shaped sealbox. The sealbox of an imperial truth-seer.

Atreus sat up straighter and set down his cup. “This is Lord Pera’s sealbox. In Valentis we call him Lord-Gives-No-Quarter, since he never votes for mercy once he outs someone’s conspiracy in court.”

Oh? When Edana chose Lord Pera, all she knew of him was that he operated in both Valentis and Kyanopolis, and he enjoyed a reputation for strict his scruples as a truth-seer. The silversmiths’ guild had recommended him, after finally disbursing the orphan aid fund to her. In doing so they enabled her to avoid financial debt, and to ensure that her part in their arrangement was free and clear of legal entanglements.

And, as she expected, some of the members, her father’s countrymen, recognized her as their own. They introduced her to elders of the temple of the Sower, Zebediah explaining,

“When any girlchild of our people is orphaned, we don’t leave her without means for her future. We’d have set up a dowry for you, but we suspect you’ll provide yourself one, if your venture works. We will do our part, and you will do yours.”

Now Atreus lifted the sealbox lid, confirming it contained the wax seal of Lord Pera. Whipping out an onyx-hilted dagger, he cut the strings that bound the sealbox to the leather chest. What he saw inside the box made him whistle.

“Beautiful,” he marveled, lifting out a silver pendant of a sea dragon. It was finely detailed, right down to the horns and scales. On the back was a smaller version of Lord Pera’s mark of authentication.

“One of the silversmiths I spoke of made this for you. Wear it on your voyages. The Marinite priests blessed it; you will have the Sea Lord’s protection on your travels,” Edana said.

For a long moment, Atreus sat gazing at the pendant. There was no question of its beauty, at least. He reached back into the box and brought out a letter from Lord Pera. The truthseer’s letter certified Edana’s intentions.

Atreus read aloud in his most sonorous voice, switching to a falsetto when he came to Lady Nensela’s seal next to Lord Pera’s at the bottom.

“She’s taking this guardianship business quite seriously,” he observed. “Fortunately for you. Few fools are so foolish as to cross a Ta-Setian. Those immortals are terrifyingly patient in their vengeance. Pull a girl’s braid when you’re ten, and she curses you so you’ll be bald when you’re forty.”

Running a hand through his dark, still luxuriant hair, he hastily added, “Not that they’re petty, don’t get me wrong. Please assure Lady Nensela that I’m well aware she can call the Destroyer down on me. I will continue to deal honorably with you, young Optima Nuriel.”

“You have my gratitude,” she said dryly.

Atreus downed the rest of his wine, then stood. He stretched out his hand to her. Edana rose, too. After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand. What was he up to?

“You’re something else, young optima,” he said with a laugh. “In your quiver you have not one but two heavy hitters, and the means to add prestige to mine. Alright, I’m game. I will partner with you, if for no other reason than to see what you come up with next.”

Bessa exclaimed, “So you’re the reason artisans have started putting a truth-seer’s marks on their gold and silver and whatnot. I wondered who started that trend! It makes shopping so much easier. Now anyone who doesn’t have the marks is run out of town if they try to pass off their fakes as pure or genuine. I’m impressed by how many good deeds you committed at a single stroke.”

Edana smiled slightly. “Well…Lord Atreus and I were successful with the shop and the mines, but I kept an eye on the cost of voyages to Silura. I thought I’d concluded the ‘Kyanopolis chapter’ of my life when I was able to donate to the orphan fund twice the amount I had received from it.”

“Twice the amount? Oh, I am so proud of you! The odds were against you, yet you still stayed true to what your parents taught us.”

Edana flushed. Quickly she said, “My success meant more than I thought it did. That very night, after I made the donation, a guest came to visit Lady Nensela. Or rather, to see me. Before he came, I thought my gaining the seer’s seal of approval was an unalloyed good, if you’ll forgive the expression. But you notice what I said about the situation in Valentis? At the time I thought it was just chance that so many crooked artisans were flooding the market there. Some people are honest, some people are cheaters. Cities have more of both types, and that’s that.”

Bessa stiffened. “This was part of a plan?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know until our visitor explained it to me. At first he claimed to want to hire a silver broker. I earned a reputation by then, so it was not so strange he should hear of me. But Lady Nensela’s tutors taught me well, and I recognized his aegis when the necklace slipped out. I still think he intended me to see it.”

“Enter the Star Dragon,” Bessa guessed.

Edana’s quiet laugh said it all. “An arcanus, yes. And he needed my help.”