to assuage other concerns, I would like to introduce one of our allies who is
not
afraid to show her face.”
The mists shifted to reveal an elderly woman whose skin was the color of an acorn shell, except for streaks of milky white across her cheek, brow, and jaw. If I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed they were scars, but I could sense the power around this woman. The pale stripes were what the Shantel called the “white curse,” and they marked her as the famous sakkri, the witch who controlled the strongest of the Shantel’s magic.
I knew which recent events had finally pushed the Shantel to participate in this rebellion. The sakkri’s power was passed down from one generation to the next as the elder witch trained the younger, but the Shantel had been forced to sell the apprentice sakkri to Midnight just as she came fully into her power. What did they have left but to fight?
“We stand in a space between day and night, past and future, fixed and changeable.” Though her body looked frail, as if she were at the end of her years, the sakkri’s voice was strong. “The power of this place is designed to turn away anyone whose intentions do not align with ours and to reveal falsehoods, so I can vow that no one present tonight is here to betray us. The mist will hide anyone who wishes to stay secret, and only reveal those who choose to show their faces.”
“That would be impressive. Should I believe it?” The question came from a man’s voice with an accent I could not place.
His tone was more curious than challenging, but Nathaniel clenched his jaw, then took a moment to compose himself before turning to address the speaker, who was recognizable only as a vague outline.
“I am aware that you and your line have little experience with or interest in local cultures,” Nathaniel replied, “but this would all go more smoothly if you would cease questioning my competence at every turn. You demanded to know who my allies were, whether they represented sufficient support for my plan to succeed, and how I expected to keep such a large plan secret long enough to pull it off. This meeting is your answer.”
“It’s rather naive to question a mercenary’s methods,” another voice remarked, teasing. All I could tell was that this one was female. “Not to mention rude. Nathaniel, is this your employer?”
“I’m simply a sponsor,” the first voice replied.
Silver?
I wondered. It would make sense that the vampire challenging Midnight for supremacy would be involved in Nathaniel’s plan…but if he hadn’t hired Nathaniel, who had?
“Fine,” the first man said. For a man who claimed to be a “sponsor,” not an employer, he seemed to have no compunctions about controlling the meeting. “Tell us who you’ve gathered, and what your plan is.”
“As I said before,” Nathaniel replied, “not everyone here is willing to share their names yet, but we have representatives from the Shantel, the Azteka, the shm’Ahnmik, Macht witches, Triste witches, the Obsidian guild, Kendra’s line, and Katama’s line—and you, of course, representing Silver’s line.”
“True,” the sakkri whispered, tilting her head as if listening to distant music.
My skin crawled at the reference to the shm’Ahnmik, my father’s people. Any purebred falcon who saw me would hate me on sight for being half serpent. My presence might be offensive enough for them to refuse to stay. Was their power strong enough to see past Shantel magic?
I suspected the uneasy murmuring I heard from the others was due to a different name in the list: Katama, Jeshickah’s sister, who had sired the line that had created and ruled Midnight itself. Was Nathaniel referring to himself as a representative from that line? Or was one of the trainers in on this? If so, which one? The only name that came to mind was Gabriel, but though he regularly spoke up against Jeshickah, he seemed to enjoy the perks of his position too much to actively
not
afraid to show her face.”
The mists shifted to reveal an elderly woman whose skin was the color of an acorn shell, except for streaks of milky white across her cheek, brow, and jaw. If I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed they were scars, but I could sense the power around this woman. The pale stripes were what the Shantel called the “white curse,” and they marked her as the famous sakkri, the witch who controlled the strongest of the Shantel’s magic.
I knew which recent events had finally pushed the Shantel to participate in this rebellion. The sakkri’s power was passed down from one generation to the next as the elder witch trained the younger, but the Shantel had been forced to sell the apprentice sakkri to Midnight just as she came fully into her power. What did they have left but to fight?
“We stand in a space between day and night, past and future, fixed and changeable.” Though her body looked frail, as if she were at the end of her years, the sakkri’s voice was strong. “The power of this place is designed to turn away anyone whose intentions do not align with ours and to reveal falsehoods, so I can vow that no one present tonight is here to betray us. The mist will hide anyone who wishes to stay secret, and only reveal those who choose to show their faces.”
“That would be impressive. Should I believe it?” The question came from a man’s voice with an accent I could not place.
His tone was more curious than challenging, but Nathaniel clenched his jaw, then took a moment to compose himself before turning to address the speaker, who was recognizable only as a vague outline.
“I am aware that you and your line have little experience with or interest in local cultures,” Nathaniel replied, “but this would all go more smoothly if you would cease questioning my competence at every turn. You demanded to know who my allies were, whether they represented sufficient support for my plan to succeed, and how I expected to keep such a large plan secret long enough to pull it off. This meeting is your answer.”
“It’s rather naive to question a mercenary’s methods,” another voice remarked, teasing. All I could tell was that this one was female. “Not to mention rude. Nathaniel, is this your employer?”
“I’m simply a sponsor,” the first voice replied.
Silver?
I wondered. It would make sense that the vampire challenging Midnight for supremacy would be involved in Nathaniel’s plan…but if he hadn’t hired Nathaniel, who had?
“Fine,” the first man said. For a man who claimed to be a “sponsor,” not an employer, he seemed to have no compunctions about controlling the meeting. “Tell us who you’ve gathered, and what your plan is.”
“As I said before,” Nathaniel replied, “not everyone here is willing to share their names yet, but we have representatives from the Shantel, the Azteka, the shm’Ahnmik, Macht witches, Triste witches, the Obsidian guild, Kendra’s line, and Katama’s line—and you, of course, representing Silver’s line.”
“True,” the sakkri whispered, tilting her head as if listening to distant music.
My skin crawled at the reference to the shm’Ahnmik, my father’s people. Any purebred falcon who saw me would hate me on sight for being half serpent. My presence might be offensive enough for them to refuse to stay. Was their power strong enough to see past Shantel magic?
I suspected the uneasy murmuring I heard from the others was due to a different name in the list: Katama, Jeshickah’s sister, who had sired the line that had created and ruled Midnight itself. Was Nathaniel referring to himself as a representative from that line? Or was one of the trainers in on this? If so, which one? The only name that came to mind was Gabriel, but though he regularly spoke up against Jeshickah, he seemed to enjoy the perks of his position too much to actively
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