necessary.”
Aeren said nothing, but Colin knew that both he and Eraeth heard what he had not said. The knife lay between them, although neither of them glanced toward it. After a moment, Aeren nodded, the gesture almost imperceptible.
“That does not explain why you came here,” Moiran said into the silence.
“No, it does not. The problem with our theory that the stability of the Wells has been altered is that I placed wardings on all of them, to keep the Wraiths away as well as everyoneelse. None of those wardings have been disturbed. The Seasonal Trees protect all but three of the Wells from interference by the Wraiths and Shadows, but Lotaern feels that the Wraiths have found a way around the wardings, and so, with my escort, we are going to these three Wells to see if they have been touched or if the wardings have been tampered with.”
“And where are these three Wells?” Aeren asked.
“Do you have a map?”
Aeren motioned to his son, who stood and began sorting through the papers on the large desk, Eraeth and Daevon moving over a moment later to help him.
“The Wells are outside the influence of the Trees, obviously. One of them lies far to the south, beneath the lands settled by the Provinces,” Colin said as they waited. He felt Vaeren listening intently. He wondered yet again what his orders from Lotaern were, but shrugged that aside. “The second lies to the west, across the Arduon, in Andover.”
Aeren’s eyebrows rose in shock. “I had not realized there were sarenavriell in Andover.”
“Neither had we,” Vaeren said sharply, anger threading through his voice. Colin assumed he meant Lotaern and the Order. The fact they had not known was strangely satisfying.
“There is only the one, as far as I know,” he said.
At the desk, Daevon and Eraeth had halted their search at this revelation, but Fedaureon cried out and pulled a sheaf of papers from a stack. He sorted through them as he came to the table, while Moiran moved the trays of forgotten food to one side to make room.
“Here,” he said, setting down a map of the Hauttaeren Mountains and Alvritshai lands. Each of the eight Houses were marked with different shades of color, Caercaern and the major cities black dots with swirling script, black lines marking roads and trade routes connecting them. Everyone,Moiran and the Flame included, Eraeth looking over Aeren’s shoulder, leaned forward as Colin perused the map to orient himself.
“And the third,” he said, turning the page toward him and pointing, “is right here.” He glanced up, met Aeren’s gaze squarely. “In the White Wastes.”
“T HERE ARE ONLY TWO ROUTES northward to the lands that we abandoned,” Aeren said, sitting back in his seat as the shock of Colin’s revelation slowly wore off. “We can travel through the halls beneath Caercaern, or we can travel to the coast and take a ship up around the coastline, hoping for a break in the ice that would permit landfall. I’d not recommend the ocean approach.”
“And returning to Caercaern will add another week or more to the trip,” Vaeren said with a scowl, turning on Colin. “Why did you have us travel here if you knew we were going to be turning back? We could have sent a message by courier. We could have summoned Lord Aeren to Caercaern if it were that important. Aielan’s Light, we didn’t need to come here at all!”
“There is another way,” Colin said.
Vaeren straightened. “What do you mean?”
“I spent a large amount of time reading the Scripts in search of any hint about the locations of the Wells, and during that time I read much of Alvritshai history as well. Once, the Alvritshai dominated the entire region above the Hauttaeren, from the coast to the northern arctic sea, the mountains to the glacial ice to the north. There are more hallswithin the mountains besides those behind Caercaern, and there are passes through the Teeth that we can use to reach them.
“One of those passes,
Aeren said nothing, but Colin knew that both he and Eraeth heard what he had not said. The knife lay between them, although neither of them glanced toward it. After a moment, Aeren nodded, the gesture almost imperceptible.
“That does not explain why you came here,” Moiran said into the silence.
“No, it does not. The problem with our theory that the stability of the Wells has been altered is that I placed wardings on all of them, to keep the Wraiths away as well as everyoneelse. None of those wardings have been disturbed. The Seasonal Trees protect all but three of the Wells from interference by the Wraiths and Shadows, but Lotaern feels that the Wraiths have found a way around the wardings, and so, with my escort, we are going to these three Wells to see if they have been touched or if the wardings have been tampered with.”
“And where are these three Wells?” Aeren asked.
“Do you have a map?”
Aeren motioned to his son, who stood and began sorting through the papers on the large desk, Eraeth and Daevon moving over a moment later to help him.
“The Wells are outside the influence of the Trees, obviously. One of them lies far to the south, beneath the lands settled by the Provinces,” Colin said as they waited. He felt Vaeren listening intently. He wondered yet again what his orders from Lotaern were, but shrugged that aside. “The second lies to the west, across the Arduon, in Andover.”
Aeren’s eyebrows rose in shock. “I had not realized there were sarenavriell in Andover.”
“Neither had we,” Vaeren said sharply, anger threading through his voice. Colin assumed he meant Lotaern and the Order. The fact they had not known was strangely satisfying.
“There is only the one, as far as I know,” he said.
At the desk, Daevon and Eraeth had halted their search at this revelation, but Fedaureon cried out and pulled a sheaf of papers from a stack. He sorted through them as he came to the table, while Moiran moved the trays of forgotten food to one side to make room.
“Here,” he said, setting down a map of the Hauttaeren Mountains and Alvritshai lands. Each of the eight Houses were marked with different shades of color, Caercaern and the major cities black dots with swirling script, black lines marking roads and trade routes connecting them. Everyone,Moiran and the Flame included, Eraeth looking over Aeren’s shoulder, leaned forward as Colin perused the map to orient himself.
“And the third,” he said, turning the page toward him and pointing, “is right here.” He glanced up, met Aeren’s gaze squarely. “In the White Wastes.”
“T HERE ARE ONLY TWO ROUTES northward to the lands that we abandoned,” Aeren said, sitting back in his seat as the shock of Colin’s revelation slowly wore off. “We can travel through the halls beneath Caercaern, or we can travel to the coast and take a ship up around the coastline, hoping for a break in the ice that would permit landfall. I’d not recommend the ocean approach.”
“And returning to Caercaern will add another week or more to the trip,” Vaeren said with a scowl, turning on Colin. “Why did you have us travel here if you knew we were going to be turning back? We could have sent a message by courier. We could have summoned Lord Aeren to Caercaern if it were that important. Aielan’s Light, we didn’t need to come here at all!”
“There is another way,” Colin said.
Vaeren straightened. “What do you mean?”
“I spent a large amount of time reading the Scripts in search of any hint about the locations of the Wells, and during that time I read much of Alvritshai history as well. Once, the Alvritshai dominated the entire region above the Hauttaeren, from the coast to the northern arctic sea, the mountains to the glacial ice to the north. There are more hallswithin the mountains besides those behind Caercaern, and there are passes through the Teeth that we can use to reach them.
“One of those passes,
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