Crown of Vengeance

Hamphuliadiel Astromancer’s house was Haldil.

There was no proscription against knowing the Houses of the Lightborn. In fact it was often a matter of vital importance, for the swiftest messages went forth by spellbird or Farspeaking, and such communication lay solely within the hands of the Lightborn, who would render no aid to a House not their own. If Gonceivis Haldil had taken his cause for war from some meddling of Hamphuliadiel, perhaps the reasons lay within the scrolls that spoke of the Prophecy.

But what she found was more troubling to her than any news of distant rebellion, or thinking the Astromancer of the Sanctuary of the Star chose to make the Hundred into counters on a xaique board.

There was no longer a full copy of The Song of Amrethion anywhere on the shelves—the last scroll in every available copy, the scroll containing the Prophecy-or-Curse, had been altered so it no longer contained it. The commentaries on the Song were either missing entirely, or the vellum had been cut and re-glued so the chapters analyzing the Song were gone. And as she’d just discovered, it was not just the Song. The Jade Mirror was an important text, how could Beruthiel, could anyone, say it was of no importance? The Book of Days, The Book of Veils, The Fire Alphabet … every book recording prophecies was either missing entirely or locked away as if it contained dangerous spellcraft.

All those texts should be here, so the Postulants could learn from them.

Those lacunae led her to investigate the Histories, but there were disturbing gaps there too. The scrolls detailing the lives of the Astromancers were gone. She could find their names, from Mosirinde Peacemaker down to Hamphuliadiel—but no texts of their lives more recent than Timirmar Astromancer’s, and there had been thirty Astromancers since Timirmar’s reign. Where were the lists of decisions made, of Postulants who became Lightborn in each reign, the lists of spells cast, Healings performed, Foretellings and interpretations made?

A library of magic without magic is a poor library indeed, Vieliessar thought sourly. If I make known those things Hamphuliadiel has done, I will have no allies to help me make all as it was. Nor will his fears of me be allayed. Yet he fears me already …

And Hamphuliadiel had always found fault with her even when both law and custom were on her side.

He has often mocked Celelioniel’s obsession with Amrethion’s Prophecy. But I think he must believe in it, or why would he take such pains to render it impossible to prove? It cannot merely be for Haldil’s benefit. No War Prince truly seeks his causes in ancient lore. He has done this to us—to the Lightborn.

To me.

Celelioniel had named Vieliessar Child of the Prophecy, the one whose birth would—so Amrethion had written—herald the coming of the Darkness and bring an end to the Hundred Houses. Celelioniel had chosen Hamphuliadiel to carry on her work. It was why she had supported his bid to become Astromancer. But once he had, Hamphuliadiel had betrayed her. Clearly he meant to dismiss all thought in anyone’s mind that the Prophecy might be true. He’d already removed every scroll that would help the Lightborn decide for themselves.

If the question arose.

When it arose.

Foretelling was not Vieliessar’s spell to call. She did not know what the future held, and in truth, she had never wanted to, for what she had learned in her vigil within the Shrine had frightened her more than she had ever wished to admit. Now she wished she had tried harder to master it. At least then she would know when the Darkness her birth had foretold would come.

Perhaps it is I who am the Darkness. Why else would Hamphuliadiel hate me so?

* * *

Those words came back to Vieliessar many times the following winter. It was the hardest winter she had ever spent.

She spent it outside the Sanctuary.

They had learned of the Windsward Rebellion in Fire, and it had taken her through Rade to discover what Hamphiliadiel had done to the Great Library. Through all that winter she had stayed quiet and meek, but then Flower came, and a new year of Postulants were chosen.

There were only six Lightborn residents at the Sanctuary these days, a fraction of the number there’d once been, and Hervilafimir’s and Beruthiel’s duties occupied so much of their time that they could not be spared to shepherd new Postulants into the knowledge of the Light. Vieliessar’s practice of spellcraft had never been either elegant or conventional enough to satisfy her fellow Lightborn—Rondithiel thought it must be because of all the time she had practiced in secret; Pamaneith Lightbrother thought it was because she had come to the Light so late. But even if no one wished her to teach the Light itself, Vieliessar knew as much about its theory and history as any here.

And more than some.

She began innocently enough. But moonturn followed moonturn, and she turned from teaching the Candidates what they could still find upon the shelves of Arevethmonion to teaching them of those scrolls which now existed nowhere but in her memories. She could not bear for these Postulants to go forth into the world crippled and half educated.

She hadn’t thought what she did would be discovered at all; Hamphuliadiel paid little attention to the Postulants and no one else would think what she was teaching was at all unusual. But one morning, a sennight after she’d begun, she’d barely settled herself in her seat in the Refectory, thinking of little more than the Postulants she would see today, when Momioniarch Lightsister came to stand behind her chair.

“Hamphuliadiel Astromancer summons you to attend him at the Shrine, Lightsister,” she said.

Puzzled, Vieliessar nodded. “I come,” she answered. She got to her feet and waved away the young Candidate who was serving breakfast.

When she reached the antechamber of the Shrine, Hamphuliadiel stood in its center. Everyone was at the morning meal, even the servants; there was no one to see. Behind him, as if he were a great prince and they his komentai’a, stood Galathornthadan and Sunalanthaid. Two more from Haldil, she noted automatically, for of the four Lightborn who seemed to attend upon Hamphuliadiel as if it were their only task, only Orchalianiel was not from Haldil—and Orchalianiel was from Bethros, to which Hamphuliadiel also had ties.

“Lord Astromancer,” Vieliessar said, still confused. She shivered. The outer doors of the vestibule were open, as they were each day, and the air here was cold.

“I have done all I could to save you, Vieliessar, for it is in my mind that to lose one of the Lightborn for any cause would be a terrible loss. My patience is infinite, but my wisdom is not. All I can do is present you for judgment to an authority greater than my own.”

“Who judges me?” Vieliessar demanded. “For what crime? I have not trans—” I have not transgressed against the Covenant.

“I will not debate with you,” Hamphuliadiel said sharply, raising his hand.

Suddenly Vieliessar felt the touch of a spell settle over her skin—and with that touch she was once more a child standing before Ladyholder Glorthiachiel in Caerthalien’s Great Hall. This spell stopped her words, but not her volition. She took a step toward Hamphuliadiel, barely forcing herself to stop before she struck him.

“Your spirit is too cunning,” Hamphuliadiel continued, as if she had fallen silent of her own accord. “It leads you into folly. And so I say this—as Arevethmonion has revealed your corruption, let Arevethmonion judge if you are worthy to dwell among us. I lay upon you this charge: go from the Sanctuary of the Star to dwell in Arevethmonion. If she will shelter you, return to us in Rain, healed and welcome.”

Her horror and rage were enough to sweep away the spell of Silence as if it were never cast. “Rain is four moonturns from now,” she said hoarsely. Who had told Hamphuliadiel—what had they told him? Why was it so important to him to banish the study of prophecy from the Sanctuary of the Star?

“I will fetch my cloak and boots and go,” she said quickly, before he could bespell her to silence again. Once she was out of his sight, she could Cloak herself and reach the Servants’ Hall by the secret passageways. She could leave a message for Rondithiel or Pamaneith—Maeredhiel would see it was delivered …

“You will go as you are,” Hamphuliadiel answered.