She laughed again, feigning delight at his words, but he saw it in her eyes. She realized exactly what he'd just told her: someone else was already carrying on Kelas's plans. Frustrated, he walked out the door before turning back to Janna.
'Listen,' he said. 'As a Royal Eye, I promised to give my life in service of the queen. Her Majesty is hardly blameless in all that's happened, but I will not stand by and watch a thousand years of Wynarn rule get tossed aside so she can be replaced with the likes of Jorlanna d'Cannith, Arcanist Wheldren, and you. If you continue to pursue Kelas's schemes, you will make me your enemy.'
Janna's smile became a wolfish grin. 'Oh no,' she sneered. 'Perhaps you'll bore me to death with your speeches.'
Anger boiled in his chest, and he suddenly couldn't believe he'd ever harbored a pleasant thought about this woman. 'Don't underestimate me,' he said. 'Kelas didn't die in the storm at the Dragon Forge-he died at my hand.'
'Was that a threat? Why not fight me now, Aunn?' She stepped around the desk, sword at the ready. 'I'm not going to turn back. I'll find the others, and together we'll finish what Kelas started. Are you going to stop me?'
Aunn pulled his mace from his belt. 'I am.'
Her demeanor changed so quickly that he thought for a moment he was facing the changeling after all, but it was still Janna before him-the laughing, flirtatious Janna of a moment before. She toyed with the hilt of her sword as she took a step toward him, looking coyly up at him.
'But why?' she said. 'Why do you care so much for the queen? Why cling to your old loyalties when Aundair could be so much more?'
Aunn knew she was trying to distract him as she advanced within reach of him, but whether she meant to or not, she had struck a nerve. He had admitted it himself-the queen was not blameless in this whole affair. She hadn't ordered the construction of the Dragon Forge, but she had willingly accepted its use in destroying Varna. She had been goaded into attacking the Eldeen Reaches-largely through his own actions-but she had only done what she had always wanted to do. The barbarian invasion just gave her a pretext. In short, the queen was already a pawn of the forces that wanted control of the nation, which begged the question of why Nara wanted to overthrow her at all. Why replace a government she already controlled with an illegitimate government that would draw the ire of the rest of Khorvaire?
Only two possible answers made sense. One possibility was that Nara wanted to reignite the Last War, probably believing that Aundair could win it this time-that a new ruler could govern not just Aundair but all of Khorvaire. That had been Haldren's goal, after all, and when Janna spoke of Kelas's vision for a glorious Aundair, he suspected that's what she had in mind.
But if that was what everybody seemed to believe, then in all likelihood the other possibility was the real truth: it was all about the Prophecy-which, as always, made his head spin. But he was finally beginning to glimpse the still center of that whirlwind.
Janna watched his face with evident interest, as if she was trying to guess the thoughts running through his mind. She was close enough to strike with her blade, but she hadn't yet, perhaps waiting for some kind of answer to her question.
It was Aunn's turn to laugh. 'You won't sway me, Janna. Kelas's vision wasn't what you think it was. Pore though his papers-see if you find anything about the Prophecy, or any clue who he was working for. I'll bet you won't. Go ahead and chase the dream he sold you, and play right into their hands.'
Janna's brow furrowed. 'Whose hands?'
'When you figure that out, you find me.' Aunn turned his back on her and strode back around the corner, down the main passage, up the stairs, and out of the cathedral.
CHAPTER 27
Slowly, Cart began to understand.
Havrakhad spoke in his mind, words that soothed and guided him. He saw visions amid the explosions of golden light that replaced his sight-visions of memory and history, portent and nightmare. His mind was a stormy sea of emotion-raw terror, exultation, steely determination, love-but Havrakhad's voice coaxed him up above the storm, to float above the waves and ride them through the tumult. It was no different, really, from the discipline of a soldier, fighting on despite the fear and pain, careful not to be carried away by the surge of joy that came with each small victory.
He couldn't express or explain what he came to understand, but he knew that it left him changed.
'Listen carefully, Cart,' Havrakhad said to him at last. It had been hours-he had no idea how many hours. 'In a moment, I will remove the quori's eye from your mind. But before I do that, I have to restore your own sight. When I do, you must not turn and look at me. You must not. It will try to make you turn, but you must resist. Use what you have learned, and resist it.'
'I understand.'
'Not yet, but you begin to. Are you ready?'
'Wait. Where's Ashara?'
'I'm here.' Her murmur came from across the room. She sounded sleepy. What had she been doing while Havrakhad was in his mind? Cart realized he had no idea.
'Will you sit beside me?' he asked.
He heard rustling and her soft footsteps, then she sank onto the couch beside him and put a hand on his arm.
'Are you ready?' Havrakhad repeated.
Cart nodded slowly.
'Then open your eyes.'
He felt Havrakhad's hand at the back of his neck, and then his vision returned like a slow dawning. He saw Havrakhad's apartment, spare and clean, washed in morning light filtered through gauzy curtains over the windows. Ashara leaned into his view and smiled at him.
He had to turn and see Havrakhad. He knew-with all his being he knew-that if he turned, he would see not the beautiful man he knew as Havrakhad, but a monster veiled in flesh. Everything about Havrakhad was a lie. He fumbled for his axe, ready to turn around and strike the monster down.
'Cart?' Ashara was still holding his arm, looking up at him with worry on her face. Her hair was a tousled mess, and her eyes were swollen from sleep.
She's in league with him, he thought. Panic seized his mind, and he crouched, ready to whirl and confront the monster.
'Use what you have learned, and resist it.'
Cart stopped and straightened his legs. He felt the panic in his mind, but he rose above it-he observed it and then discarded it. He felt Havrakhad's fingers on his head, probing gently into his mind, and the panic slowly subsided.
Then another jolt of pain stabbed through his head, and the fear and doubt were gone. 'It's gone,' he said.
'Yes.' Havrakhad came around the couch and into his field of vision. He looked more exhausted than Ashara did, but he smiled. 'You did well.'
'Thank you,' Cart said, then he looked back at Ashara. 'And thank you as well.'
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her head against his chest. He encircled her in his arms and held her.
'I'm sorry,' Cart told Havrakhad. 'We'll go, and let you rest.' Cart stood and lifted Ashara to her feet.
'Il-Yannah shines in you, Cart,' Havrakhad said, walking them to the door. 'Not in your axe or the strength of your arms.'
Cart nodded and clasped the kalashtar's hand, Ashara gave a slight bow, and they stepped out into the stairwell of the apartment building. Ashara sighed and took his arm, and they walked together down the
