discussing her people. More wars, more massacres. And then, a few pages in different handwriting. She went back to reading.
Today, the tenth day of the fourth month in the seventieth year of the Time of Nammen, a terrible enemy fell into our hands.
Finally, here was word of Megisto.
For many years he had stood by the Tyrant, who’d rendered him a powerful sorcerer. He had been good with a sword, too, and happy to use it. He’d turned the Land of Days into his kingdom. From there, he launched devastating attacks on the Land of the Sun, fighting on the front line together with his men. No amount of blood, it seemed, could quench his thirst. Some even thought him immortal.
He reminded Nihal of a man Sennar had once described to her, a man named Dola, a terrifying warrior, who’d pillaged and scorched the Land of the Wind.
After spreading terror through the Land of Days, Megisto moved on to the Land of Water and wreaked havoc on the nymph population.
It was his own cruelty that ruined him in the end. Ever more hungry for death, he’d pushed on with only a small force into the deep, lush interior of the Land of Water, an unmapped territory where no man had ever dared enter. Those woods were the uncontested realm of the nymphs, and without their aid, finding one’s way was all but impossible. There, Megisto was surrounded by a detachment of the Army of the Free Lands. He fought long and destroyed many of his enemies. In the end, it was neither the soldiers nor the Dragon Knights who defeated him, but the nymphs themselves. The memory of their terrorized people still fresh in their minds, every nymph in the Land of Water rushed to the battle scene and together they conjured one of their most powerful spells. The forest closed around Megisto like a set of green teeth, entangling him in branches, fronds, and vines.
He was then transported to Makrat and placed under the judgment of the Council of Sorcerers, but the excerpt regarding his trial was incomplete. It contained only a few brief lines from the prosecution statement given by Dagon, the Elder Member of the Council.
Much blood has been spilled these past years. To add the blood of one more will do nothing to restore justice. I therefore propose a penalty [. . .] he is to remain for eternity in the Land to which he brought such suffering [. . .] May he reflect on his deeds in the solitude of his imprisonment, and may the years bring wisdom and repentance.
“So, he’s still alive,” Nihal muttered. It was incredible. An enemy of such great power was being held in the Land of Water.
The touch of a hand on her shoulder roused her from her thoughts. Laio and the librarian had materialized at her side. It was time to go.
Ido complained the entire way home, going on and on about how boring the meeting had been. Nihal, still plagued by her thoughts of the Tear, listened distractedly. Laio, on the other hand, weighed down with the vials and herbs he’d bought at the market, was too busy trying not to fall off his horse.
When they arrived, the base was quiet, as usual. Nothing seemed to have changed in their brief absence. Yet they’d barely stepped through the gate when a guard called out: “Halt! There’s a message for the squire.”
Laio took the scroll from the guard in disbelief. When he saw the seal stamped on the parchment, his face turned pale and he let out a weak groan.
“What is it?” Nihal asked.
“My father,” he replied, in the faintest of voices.
7
The Vaneries
Sennar felt only the plush softness of a blanket. It was like being wrapped in cotton wool, and the warmth brought him back to his infancy. He half-opened his eyes, expecting to see his mother bowed over him, leaning down to wake him with a kiss on the forehead, just like when he was little. But it was a much different image that fluttered between his eyelashes: a low-cut neckline, the slope of a milk-white breast, a pair of dark eyes.
The sorcerer woke with a
Today, the tenth day of the fourth month in the seventieth year of the Time of Nammen, a terrible enemy fell into our hands.
Finally, here was word of Megisto.
For many years he had stood by the Tyrant, who’d rendered him a powerful sorcerer. He had been good with a sword, too, and happy to use it. He’d turned the Land of Days into his kingdom. From there, he launched devastating attacks on the Land of the Sun, fighting on the front line together with his men. No amount of blood, it seemed, could quench his thirst. Some even thought him immortal.
He reminded Nihal of a man Sennar had once described to her, a man named Dola, a terrifying warrior, who’d pillaged and scorched the Land of the Wind.
After spreading terror through the Land of Days, Megisto moved on to the Land of Water and wreaked havoc on the nymph population.
It was his own cruelty that ruined him in the end. Ever more hungry for death, he’d pushed on with only a small force into the deep, lush interior of the Land of Water, an unmapped territory where no man had ever dared enter. Those woods were the uncontested realm of the nymphs, and without their aid, finding one’s way was all but impossible. There, Megisto was surrounded by a detachment of the Army of the Free Lands. He fought long and destroyed many of his enemies. In the end, it was neither the soldiers nor the Dragon Knights who defeated him, but the nymphs themselves. The memory of their terrorized people still fresh in their minds, every nymph in the Land of Water rushed to the battle scene and together they conjured one of their most powerful spells. The forest closed around Megisto like a set of green teeth, entangling him in branches, fronds, and vines.
He was then transported to Makrat and placed under the judgment of the Council of Sorcerers, but the excerpt regarding his trial was incomplete. It contained only a few brief lines from the prosecution statement given by Dagon, the Elder Member of the Council.
Much blood has been spilled these past years. To add the blood of one more will do nothing to restore justice. I therefore propose a penalty [. . .] he is to remain for eternity in the Land to which he brought such suffering [. . .] May he reflect on his deeds in the solitude of his imprisonment, and may the years bring wisdom and repentance.
“So, he’s still alive,” Nihal muttered. It was incredible. An enemy of such great power was being held in the Land of Water.
The touch of a hand on her shoulder roused her from her thoughts. Laio and the librarian had materialized at her side. It was time to go.
Ido complained the entire way home, going on and on about how boring the meeting had been. Nihal, still plagued by her thoughts of the Tear, listened distractedly. Laio, on the other hand, weighed down with the vials and herbs he’d bought at the market, was too busy trying not to fall off his horse.
When they arrived, the base was quiet, as usual. Nothing seemed to have changed in their brief absence. Yet they’d barely stepped through the gate when a guard called out: “Halt! There’s a message for the squire.”
Laio took the scroll from the guard in disbelief. When he saw the seal stamped on the parchment, his face turned pale and he let out a weak groan.
“What is it?” Nihal asked.
“My father,” he replied, in the faintest of voices.
7
The Vaneries
Sennar felt only the plush softness of a blanket. It was like being wrapped in cotton wool, and the warmth brought him back to his infancy. He half-opened his eyes, expecting to see his mother bowed over him, leaning down to wake him with a kiss on the forehead, just like when he was little. But it was a much different image that fluttered between his eyelashes: a low-cut neckline, the slope of a milk-white breast, a pair of dark eyes.
The sorcerer woke with a
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