the pain nearly made him lose consciousness.
In the near-darkness, Tris could make out two fig-ures near the fire, and realized that both Carina and Taru were keeping a vigil. He wanted to call out, but he found he lacked the strength even to do that, and his power felt out of reach entirely.
Maybe this is the Lady’s judgment, Tris thought, closing his eyes. Maybe She won’t take me until I’ve lived the visions, until I’ve lost everything, and felt the pain. Maybe I’m damned.
Three days later, after the chills and fever of the wormroot left him and he was able to leave his bed, Tris sat by the window of his room, huddled in the deep window frame, looking out at the snow-covered city below. The food on the table beside him was cold, untouched. Carina had pleaded with him to eat, but he felt no hunger, and while the gash in his arm was nearly healed and the poison in his system was gone, the images of the sendings haunted him. He had not slept.
Carina, worried because he would not speak to her, had finally left him alone.
Tris was too numbed by his own grief and failure to find the words to answer her questions. He could not look into her eyes without seeing the noose and the gibbet. He was resolved to neither share his visions nor allow them to come to pass, but how to stop them from happening he did not know.
The door behind him opened. Tris did not turn. The worst that can happen is that someone sinks a shiv in my back, he thought. Perhaps it would be for the best.
He sensed Taru’s power before she spoke. “Carina asked me to come,” Taru said, moving toward him in the darkened room. Tris neither waved her away nor bid her closer, never taking his eyes off the falling snow beyond the window.
“Something else happened in that room that Carina didn’t heal.”
Tris didn’t move. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have to.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
“I don’t think Arontala expected to kill you through Alaine. Oh, he could have gotten lucky— and he certainly came close. But he can sense your power. You’ve turned him back before, without training. No,” Taru said, “he didn’t really expect to kill you. And at a distance, he couldn’t possess you. So it had to be something else. Something to break your will, make you question your purpose, lose heart.”
Tris kept his back turned, so that Taru could not see the tears that filled his eyes.
“You saw something in that room, didn’t you?”
Tris nodded wordlessly, unable to trust his voice.
“A mage of Arontala’s power could project a vision through a vessel like Alaine,” Taru went on quietly. “A dark sending can take the heart of a strong man,” she said. “Once, I saw a great gener-al throw himself off a cliff because a dark mage convinced him that his wife, his children, had been slaughtered.”
“Jonmarc, Carina, Carroway—I saw them die,” Tris whispered. “I saw Kiara taken—” his voice failed him and he bowed his head.
Taru moved to stand behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Wormroot poisons the body,” Taru said quietly. “But a dark sending poisons the soul. Tell me—were the images you saw clear, as if they were happening in front of you?”
Tris nodded, swallowing hard as the images came again to him, real and overwhelming.
“Real scryings of the future are not so clear,” Taru said. “A real scrying sees a future that is always in motion. To see what’s happening at the same instant is one thing, but to see into the future with certainty—that is for the Lady alone.
A clear future vision is not even given to seers, whose gift is the magic of foresight. Even they get fragments, not sharp images. That’s part of their gift of divination, to know what those pieces mean.
“Arontala meant the sending to break your will,” Taru said gently. “It’s a soul poison, pulling from your own fears. As long as you hold it inside, it will do its work.”
“I
In the near-darkness, Tris could make out two fig-ures near the fire, and realized that both Carina and Taru were keeping a vigil. He wanted to call out, but he found he lacked the strength even to do that, and his power felt out of reach entirely.
Maybe this is the Lady’s judgment, Tris thought, closing his eyes. Maybe She won’t take me until I’ve lived the visions, until I’ve lost everything, and felt the pain. Maybe I’m damned.
Three days later, after the chills and fever of the wormroot left him and he was able to leave his bed, Tris sat by the window of his room, huddled in the deep window frame, looking out at the snow-covered city below. The food on the table beside him was cold, untouched. Carina had pleaded with him to eat, but he felt no hunger, and while the gash in his arm was nearly healed and the poison in his system was gone, the images of the sendings haunted him. He had not slept.
Carina, worried because he would not speak to her, had finally left him alone.
Tris was too numbed by his own grief and failure to find the words to answer her questions. He could not look into her eyes without seeing the noose and the gibbet. He was resolved to neither share his visions nor allow them to come to pass, but how to stop them from happening he did not know.
The door behind him opened. Tris did not turn. The worst that can happen is that someone sinks a shiv in my back, he thought. Perhaps it would be for the best.
He sensed Taru’s power before she spoke. “Carina asked me to come,” Taru said, moving toward him in the darkened room. Tris neither waved her away nor bid her closer, never taking his eyes off the falling snow beyond the window.
“Something else happened in that room that Carina didn’t heal.”
Tris didn’t move. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have to.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
“I don’t think Arontala expected to kill you through Alaine. Oh, he could have gotten lucky— and he certainly came close. But he can sense your power. You’ve turned him back before, without training. No,” Taru said, “he didn’t really expect to kill you. And at a distance, he couldn’t possess you. So it had to be something else. Something to break your will, make you question your purpose, lose heart.”
Tris kept his back turned, so that Taru could not see the tears that filled his eyes.
“You saw something in that room, didn’t you?”
Tris nodded wordlessly, unable to trust his voice.
“A mage of Arontala’s power could project a vision through a vessel like Alaine,” Taru went on quietly. “A dark sending can take the heart of a strong man,” she said. “Once, I saw a great gener-al throw himself off a cliff because a dark mage convinced him that his wife, his children, had been slaughtered.”
“Jonmarc, Carina, Carroway—I saw them die,” Tris whispered. “I saw Kiara taken—” his voice failed him and he bowed his head.
Taru moved to stand behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Wormroot poisons the body,” Taru said quietly. “But a dark sending poisons the soul. Tell me—were the images you saw clear, as if they were happening in front of you?”
Tris nodded, swallowing hard as the images came again to him, real and overwhelming.
“Real scryings of the future are not so clear,” Taru said. “A real scrying sees a future that is always in motion. To see what’s happening at the same instant is one thing, but to see into the future with certainty—that is for the Lady alone.
A clear future vision is not even given to seers, whose gift is the magic of foresight. Even they get fragments, not sharp images. That’s part of their gift of divination, to know what those pieces mean.
“Arontala meant the sending to break your will,” Taru said gently. “It’s a soul poison, pulling from your own fears. As long as you hold it inside, it will do its work.”
“I
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