Chương 77: The Bitter Taste

The banquet took place beneath a ceiling painted with victories. Not real victories. Clean victories. Cavalry without mud. Soldiers dying with calm faces. Demons cast back into perfectly symmetrical flames. Kings holding swords raised toward a sky that always seemed to agree with them. Aurelis loved that kind of ceiling. It let its guests dine beneath history without ever having to smell the bodies. Lena stood near a column, a full cup in her hands. She had not drunk. The wine was probably excellent.

Servants moved between the groups with silent precision. Nobles laughed softly. Priests spoke in low voices. Officers projected relaxation with a talent that probably required more training than certain weapons. Everywhere, they were being watched. The four heroes. Again. Always. Elias stood near the center of the hall, surrounded by two generals, a representative of the Circle of the Sword, and an elderly duchess who had not stopped explaining to him that her grandson now dreamed of "holding the dawn" in the army.

Elias listened. He was polite. Perfectly polite. That had become worrying in its own way. Mira was speaking with three College mages near a marble table. She was not smiling. Neither were they. That was perhaps why they seemed almost happy. Jonah, meanwhile, had been trapped by a group of young nobles fascinated by his tactical bracers. He raised one arm. — Yes, they stabilize my ability. No, they don't throw lightning. Yes, that is disappointing. No, I cannot use them to open bottles. Well, probably not.

I refuse to risk a military artifact on expensive wine without legal supervision. The young nobles laughed. Jonah did too. A little. Not enough for Lena. She knew his public laugh now. Lighter. Quicker. More useful. The real one came rarely. A bard began a song at the far end of the hall. Lena knew she was going to hate it before the third note. She was right. The song spoke of a breach, a beast, a line of light, and four souls from another world descending from the sky to answer the world's call. Four.

The hall seemed to breathe more easily. The guests listened with that comfortable emotion people feel when they like hearing a tragedy only after it has already been turned into melody. Lena set her cup down on a ledge. Her fingers trembled slightly. She hid them in the folds of her mantle. The bard sang Elias as a blade raised against the night. He sang Mira as the eye that sees the fracture. He sang Jonah as the wall that jokes in the face of death. He sang Lena as the thread that binds the living.

It was beautiful. Too beautiful. The words washed clean everything that had been ugly. They did not speak of fear. Not of hands full of blood. Not of the wounded she had had to let die in order to save the ones who could still be saved. Not of the way Jonah had vomited after their first mission because he had held too long. Not of Mira sometimes staying awake over the plans of Aurelis, searching for fractures in an entire kingdom. Not of Elias looking at every exit as though he could still see a hatch sealing shut.

And above all, not of Zayn. The fifth name no longer even needed to be erased. It simply did not fit inside the song. Lena left the column. No one stopped her immediately. That was the advantage of being a support heroine in a hall full of important people: they expected her to be gentle, not abrupt. So her departure looked like discreet fatigue, not flight. She reached a side gallery. The air there was cooler. Less perfumed. She drew a deep breath. Then a voice said behind her: — They cut a verse. Lena turned.

Mira was there. Silent as ever, two cups in hand. She extended one toward Lena. — Water. Lena took it. — Thank you. Mira looked back toward the hall. The song continued. — In the first version, there was a line about "five shadows fallen from another sky." Lena tightened her grip on the cup. — You heard it? — Jonah too. He almost choked on a biscuit. — They removed it? — Yes. — Who? Mira answered without hesitation: — Someone who understands that songs are more dangerous reports than reports. Lena closed her eyes.

She was not even surprised. That was what exhausted her most. Aurelis did not always lie by saying the opposite of the truth. Often, it lied better: it arranged the silences until people applauded the useful version. — We should say something, Lena murmured. Mira looked at her. — To whom? The question was simple. Cruel because it was simple. To the Crown? To the clergy? To the College? To the Ashes? To the people? To the children already singing four names in the streets? Lena had no answer. Enjoying this book?

Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Mira continued: — If you say his name in this hall, they will have to react. Some will pretend to sympathize. Some will ask why he was removed. Some will look into what he represents. And the Ashes will understand that we refuse to let him become a closed file. — He's not a file. — To us, no. — Stop saying that. Mira did not answer immediately. Then she said more softly: — I'm not saying it to give them reason.

I'm saying it because that is the logic we will have to fight. Lena looked down at her cup. The water trembled faintly on the surface. — Do you think he's alive? Mira looked at the empty gallery. For a long time. — I think that if he were dead, someone would already have tried to use his body as proof. Lena lifted her head. The sentence was horrible. But it warmed her anyway. It was perhaps the most Mira-shaped form hope could take. Mira added: — So yes. I think he may still be alive.

— And if he's been alive for two months... She did not finish. Mira almost did it for her. — Then he probably doesn't expect the same things from us anymore. The song ended in the hall. Applause rose. Lena closed her eyes. The bitter taste was still there. Jonah found them ten minutes later, a plate in hand and a deeply offended expression on his face. — I learned something terrible. Mira asked: — A new demonic threat? — Worse. Nobles eat tiny things with very long names. He showed them the plate.

— This, apparently, is not a piece of fish on a leaf. It is a "sea-tear on a veil of grass." I asked whether the sea had given emotional consent. They stopped serving me. Lena laughed in spite of herself. A real laugh. Small. But real. Jonah saw it. His expression softened for a second. Then he looked toward the hall. — They sang without him. Mira answered: — Yes. Jonah set the plate down on a ledge. — I should have interrupted. — You would have been escorted out, said Mira. — Probably. But with style.

Lena murmured: — And then? Jonah did not answer. Because he knew. Afterward, the papers would have spoken of Hero Price, unsettled by wine. The priests would have expressed compassion. The Crown would have smothered the incident beneath a noble phrase. The Ashes would have added a line to a report. They were stronger than before. But not free yet. Elias arrived last. He said nothing at first. He simply took his place beside them, facing the lit hall.

For a few seconds, the four heroes looked at the banquet from the gallery. Music had started again, lighter this time. The nobles were laughing once more. The officers were drinking. The priests were speaking of the future. The mages were observing everything as if even joy might provide data. — I spoke to Maelor, Elias said. Lena turned toward him at once. — About Zayn? He nodded. — The last confirmed traces go back several weeks. After the western fringes, nothing reliable. Jonah frowned. — The western fringes?

— He was definitely heading west. Lena felt her heart beat faster. — Toward the beastmen? — Probably. Mira folded her arms. — If he reached clan territory, human trackers will have trouble continuing. — That's a good thing, Lena said. Mira hesitated. — It is a thing. Jonah sighed. — Translation: in beastman lands, humans will have a harder time killing him, but other very furry people might take care of it instead. — Jonah. — What? I panic with accuracy. Elias kept looking at the hall.

— Maelor thinks he chose the west because every other direction was worse. — Sounds like him, said Jonah. The day Zayn chooses an option because it's good, I'll check whether somebody stole his brain. Lena smiled faintly. Then her face closed again. — Can we send someone? Elias answered: — Not officially. — So no. — Not officially, he repeated. Mira looked at him. — Elias. He turned his head toward her. — Not now. I know. — It's not only a matter of patience.

Clan lands are not a place where the Crown can send heroes for a stroll. Every step would carry political meaning. — I know. — And if Zayn has managed to make a clan tolerate him, our arrival could put him in danger. The sentence landed. Lena had not thought of it. Not like that. She had imagined finding Zayn, seeing him, speaking to him, offering him a hand or at least proof that they had not forgotten him.

She had not thought that their presence, with their titles, their weapons, their banners, might turn his possible refuge into a target. Refuge. The word felt almost unreal when applied to Zayn. Jonah rubbed his eyes. — So we can't search for him because it could make things worse. We can't forget him because that would make us despicable. We can't talk about him publicly because that would give the wrong people ideas. And we can't stay weak because the world is preparing a Demon King. Wonderful.

I love choices where every box contains a trap. Mira said: — Welcome to strategy. — I reject this welcome. Elias finally turned his gaze toward them. — We keep getting stronger. Jonah opened his mouth. Elias stopped him with a gesture. — Not as an excuse. Not to replace him. Not to accept what they're telling. But because if one day our roads cross again, we'll need enough weight for our choice to matter. Lena looked at him. That, she could accept. Not as consolation. As work. — And in the meantime? she asked.

Elias looked toward the hall, where the song of the four heroes had already started again in another form, taken up by a few guests drunk on symbolism. — In the meantime, he said, we remember the fifth even when they sing four. No one spoke after that. For a moment, the gallery felt truer than the whole hall. The next morning, Maelor summoned them before dawn. Not at the palace. Not at the College.

In an old desecrated chapel beneath the Second Ring, used by intelligence services when they wanted no one to be able to claim they had seen someone important enter. Jonah studied the bare walls and the removed pews. — Charming. Nothing says "healthy meeting" like an abandoned chapel before breakfast. Maelor was already there. Selka too. Her presence changed the air immediately. Lena had not seen her since Halbrèche. The commander of the Marches still wore her plain armor, but her face seemed harder now. Not tired.

Sharpened. Elias straightened. — Commander. Selka inclined her head. — Heroes. The word did not sound the way it did in the mouths of nobles. With her, it sounded almost like a military function. Maelor placed a metal disc on a table. A map rose above it, drawn in silver lines. The human kingdom. The eastern Marches. The roads to the west. The clan fringes. Then red zones appeared around several relay points. — This does not leave this room, said Maelor. Jonah muttered: — The reassuring phrases continue.

Mira studied the map. — Incidents? Selka answered: — Silences. — Explain. — Three Ashes relays have failed to transmit complete reports. Two trackers assigned to watch the western roads have disappeared. A convoy from the Circle of Roads reported a half-masked man six weeks ago, then withdrew the report the next day. Lena felt her breath catch. — Zayn? Selka did not answer immediately. — Probable. Elias stepped toward the map. — Why only now? Maelor spoke: — Because the reports were held back.

Mira turned her head toward Selka. — By the Ashes? — By certain houses within the Circle of Ashes, Selka replied. Not all of them. Jonah raised a hand. — Quick pause. For those of us who didn't grow up inside your wonderful architecture of conspiracies, "houses within the Circle of Ashes" means what exactly? Selka looked at him. Then, to Lena's surprise, actually answered. — The Circle of Ashes is not a single family.

It is a network of houses, orders, and function-lineages tasked with managing contaminated threats, anomalies, forbidden zones, demonic inheritances, and incidents that must never enter the public archives. Jonah blinked. — So political cleaners with knives. — Among other things. — I hate when "among other things" is scary. Selka went on: — Some houses serve the Marches first. Others serve the kingdom. Others serve their own doctrines. A few believe every anomaly must be destroyed.

Others believe it must be studied. Others still believe it must be possessed before someone else claims it. Mira said: — And Zayn is an anomaly. — Yes. The word fell without softness. Lena wanted to protest. But she remembered Maelor speaking of organic assimilation. Of forbidden flesh. Of Rhel-Fosse. Of sixteen days. She said nothing. Selka touched one part of the map. — We believe a minor Ashes house attempted to intercept him before the western fringes. Several of its agents disappeared.

After that, the reports fragment. Elias asked: — Did they wound him? Selka looked at him. — Probably. — Did he kill them? — Probably. Jonah exhaled. — A lot of probabilities with blood around them. Maelor resumed: — The last reliable trace indicates he was wearing a half-mask covering the upper half of his face. Mouth visible. Leg injured. Strong demonic scent. Moving west. Lena closed her eyes. She could almost see him. Not clearly. But enough. Gaunt. Injured. Masked. Walking because stopping meant dying.

Selka added: — After that, nothing. Elias leaned over the map. — Did the beastmen take him? — Possible, said Maelor. — Dead? No one answered immediately. Then Selka said: — If the beastmen had killed him near their borders, we might have heard a rumor. They do not always hide warnings. Especially when humans are involved. Mira understood. — So the silence may mean he's alive. — Or that someone is hiding him, said Selka. Jonah looked at the map.

— Which, considering his recent trajectory, could be the best and worst news at the same time. Maelor nodded. — Exactly. Lena placed a hand on the table. — Why show us this now? Selka answered: — Because certain factions want to reopen the hunt. Elias froze. — What? — Not officially. Not under royal banners. But if western rumors confirm that a human with a demonic scent was taken in by a clan, the Ashes will not be the only ones to react. Mira spoke quietly: — The clergy. — Yes, said Maelor. — The Crown. — Yes.

Jonah added: — The nobles who will want to prove they're protecting the kingdom by having someone killed far away from their carpets. Selka did not contradict him. Elias said: — Then we stop them. His voice was calm. But something inside it had changed. Selka noticed. — You do not yet have that power. The light in Elias's eyes hardened. — Not yet. Selka held his gaze. — Be careful what that kind of sentence becomes in men who are applauded. Silence. Maelor stepped in before the tension could harden.

— For the moment, we can buy time. Blur certain reports. Push the Crown to consider the demon east the higher priority. Argue that the clan fringes must not be provoked without certainty. Mira asked: — And us? Maelor looked at all four of them. — You continue becoming indispensable. Jonah laughed without humor. — Ah. Magnificent strategy. Let us become so useful that people hesitate before telling us no. — Yes, Maelor replied. Jonah stopped. — I hate it even more when my sarcasm becomes official policy.

Lena looked at Maelor. — And Zayn? The archmage was silent. Then he said: — If he is alive among the beastmen, the best service we can render him today may be to stop the kingdom from turning him into a diplomatic incident. The answer was not enough. But it was probably true. Lena hated that. Later, after the meeting, Elias remained alone in the training yard. Dawn was only just beginning to touch the towers of Aurelis. He planted Oath-Dawn into the ground. The light of Dawnline spread before him. Faint.

Then clearer. He stood there motionless until his breathing aligned with the pressure of the blade. Behind him, there were no soldiers. No cadets. No civilians. No one to protect. The line trembled. Then went out. Elias lowered his eyes. Dawnline only functioned fully when someone stood behind him. That was his strength. And his limit. He could not save an absence. He could not hold a line around a man who was already elsewhere. He drew his blade from the ground. Then began again. Again. Again.

Until the light lasted one second longer. Not for the crowd. Not for the Crown. Not even for the next monster. For the day someone stood on the other side of the line. And Elias would have to decide whether his role as hero was to obey the kingdom that acclaimed him, or to stand in front of it.