Renegade's Magic (The Soldier Son Trilogy #3)

Renegade's Magic (The Soldier Son Trilogy #3) Page 82

“I fear that is true.”

“And I fear that there is only worse to come, Epiny. The Specks’ anger against the Gernians grows. The young men, I am told, are restless and want to do worse than the magic already does.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh. “What worse could there be?”

“I don’t know. And that is what I fear. Soldier’s Boy has access to my memories. I fear he will turn what I know against Gettys. Epiny, there must be some way to resolve this. Some way to make the Gernians leave our lands and stop cutting our ancestor trees.”

For a moment, Epiny just looked at me silently. Then she cocked her head, leaned closer to me, and said, “Nevare?” in a cautious voice.

“What?”

She reached across to me and set her hand on mine. “You are Nevare?”

“Of course I am. Why? What?”

“You said ‘our lands’ and ‘our ancestor trees’ as if you were a Speck.”

I sighed. “Did I? I share Soldier’s Boy’s thoughts so much. And sometimes, what he thinks makes a lot of sense to me. It’s not comfortable to see both sides so clearly, Epiny. I can never retreat to feeling right or justified about anything. The Gernians are wrong to cut the trees without taking the Specks’ beliefs into consideration. The Specks are wrong to sow disease and deluge the Gernians with misery.”

“But we committed the first wrong. We came into their land and took it from them.”

“They took it from the Kidona.”

“What?”

“They took those lands from the Kidona. Took the lands and forced a settled folk to become nomads. And then did all they could to destroy the magic of the Kidona and deny them access to the spirit world.”

“What?”

I shook my head. “It’s that—no matter how far you go back, someone took the land from someone else. I don’t think anything can be solved by trying to work out who stole it first. The solution is in the future, Epiny, not the past.”

I’m not sure that she even heard me. “There must be a way to make us stop cutting the trees. There has to be someone who can stop the road. Someone who would listen to what you’ve learned, to what we know now. Someone who would believe us and have the power to act on it.”

I shook my head. “It will never be that simple, Epiny. We’re talking about the movement of people here. You can’t just say ‘stop’ to progress.”

“The Queen could.” A strange light had come into her eyes. “Why did I never think of it before? The Queen is fascinated with all things mystical and magical. Before I ‘ruined’ myself, I was a guest at her séances; it was probably due to her séances that I became so vulnerable to magic. If I wrote to her, reminding her of who I was, if I told her what we’ve discovered about the Specks and the trees…”

I snorted. “That silly woman, with her superstitions and mystic circles and séances? No one takes her seriously.”

Epiny laughed, and it was a hearty laugh. “Oh, Nevare, listen to yourself! You are caught up in a web of magic, and yet still disdain the Queen for believing in it!”

I had to laugh with her. “My father left a deep imprint on me. Even when I know he taught me incorrectly, I still have all those old reflexes. Even so, my comment stands, Epiny. You and I may know that her studies are not foolishness. But enlisting her as our ally wouldn’t work. She’s powerful, but most of her nobles still regard her fascination with mysticism as, well, a foolish quirk. No one would believe what you wrote to her. And we have no proof, short of bringing her out here and letting her break a proper Gettys Sweat.”

That brought a muted laugh from Epiny, but the thoughtfulness didn’t leave her face. “I could send her your soldier-son journal. That would convince her. And where she took it from there would be—”

“No!” I was adamant. “Epiny, in the good god’s name, don’t make what has befallen me any worse. You’d ruin the Burvelle name with that book. I was far too frank, much too honest. I wish I’d never kept that journal.”

“It’s safe with me,” she said quietly. “You can trust that I won’t do anything dangerous with it. Don’t you think I know what it would do to the Burvelle name? After all, once that was my name, too.” She was silent for a time and then asked, “Would you want me to send it to my father, to keep it under lock and key? He would, if I asked him to.”

“And never read it?”