That was all drumming through her mind, as were the revelations of Kemmer’s place. That man had made discoveries, and been disappeared for it. She was certain.
Something needed to be done. Amaya could barely think of anything else. Two thoughts kept driving through her brain. Find Jerinne. Find Kemmer.
She went to the Contemplation Exercises herself, joining the Initiates in the back of the room. She strove to follow the same instructions she had given when she ran the exercises, to focus her thoughts on the candle, her breathing, calm her nerves.
The exercises ended, and she was no calmer. Especially with Vien looking put out. As the other Initiates filed out, Vien came up to her.
“Fendall is missing. I know we don’t exactly put a close eye on her . . .”
“That’s what not having a proper mentor will do,” Amaya said. “I had put her on the armory, but I didn’t check up on her.”
“I looked there during dinner,” Vien said. “She hadn’t been there for hours. It’s not like her.”
“No,” Amaya said. “I . . . I have my suspicions of where she is. Tell the other third-years I have it handled, and let’s keep it between us.”
“What about the Grandmaster? Shouldn’t we—”
“I will handle it, Candidate,” Amaya said, perhaps too sharply. “Your duties are to the rest of the Initiates.”
“Yes, Madam Tyrell,” Vien said. She looked put out, but went off.
Amaya went to the training room. Maybe she could sweat out these feelings, even though she continued to have the pounding need to do something. If not for Jerinne, then for Kemmer. She grabbed a practice sword off the wall and went through her maneuvers, working through positions, wanting someone to aim her energy at.
She knew where to go. Hemmit had told her where to start.
The Opera House.
That thought kept coming up.
“Everything all right, Amaya?”
The Grandmaster had come in, barefoot in just his cottons. It was odd to see him dressed so casually out of his study. He rarely came down not in uniform.
“Just—had something to get out of my muscles, sir,” she said.
“I very much understand,” he said with resignation. “Usually you’re doing your exercises before the dawn, not after sunset.”
“Today—today has been—” She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Even now, she looked and saw the kindly face of the man who had been guiding the Order for as long as she had known. But yet there was a shadow over him.
“Trying, yes,” he said. “I find that to be the case for me most days. All the little things to . . . keep this place in line. It’s quite the burden.”
“I’m sure you shoulder a lot, sir,” Amaya said, placing the training sword back on the rack.
“You have no idea, Miss Tyrell,” he said. “I really hope you never will.”
“Even still,” she said, coming closer to him, looking into his dark eyes for some sign of deception. “No matter what the weight, I won’t waver from following what my heart knows is right.”
He blinked and looked away. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But we all . . . we always think we’re making the right choices in the moment.” He took a few steps away from her, running his hand on the rack of practice weapons. “But the important thing, the most important thing, is that we endure.”
“With honor,” she said.
“Honor is a vice of the unburdened,” he said coldly. “It matters little when all your choices are terrible. I just wish . . . I wish you could understand that, Amaya. What it means to navigate through all that darkness.”
“I understand,” she said, her thoughts about Jerinne and Dayne and Kemmer and the Grand Ten all coalescing into a single course of action. “But that’s why it was on you to be a beacon in darkness.”
“Was?” he sighed. “Have I failed in your eyes?”
“I just . . .” She found the words coming together, finding voice to her surprise. “I just know when I am doing the right thing, the light is clear. And I will follow that light.”
And it clicked in her head. She couldn’t just wait in here for things to resolve themselves. She had to take action.
The Grandmaster’s head went up, as if he had heard that very click, but it was just the dark-haired servant coming into the training room.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to clean this room now.”
“Of course,” the Grandmaster said, his voice now subdued and flat. “We all must do what we must. If you’ll excuse me.” He stalked off.
Amaya waited for him to be gone, and then hurried to her room. She would do what she must, what she could do. She would find out what happened to Kemmer, find the Grand Ten, and get to the truth. No matter what the cost.
Dressed in her civilian clothes, sword at her belt, she slipped out of the chapterhouse, making sure no one took note of her. She moved now with purity of purpose, certainty leading her toward the Grand Opera House of Maradaine.
The Thorn had led the way down the passage, claiming he could feel where they needed to go. Dayne was dubious, but he didn’t have a better solution. Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was getting even farther away from Jerinne, Maresh, and Lin. He prayed they were all right.
“How can you feel it?” he finally asked.
“Mage,” the Thorn said, as if that said it all.
“What do you mean by that?”
The Thorn sighed, and turned back to Dayne. “Numina—magical energy—is all around us, flowing and moving. I’m attuned to that. I’m not great at sensing it . . .” He looked down the hallway, pursing his lips. “I’m actually pretty bad at it.”
“So why—”
“Because there’s something happening up ahead that’s making enough noise that even I can hear it.”
“Noise?”
“As good a word as any,” the Thorn said.
“All right, and then what?”
“Then what what?”
“What do you intend to do once we get to whatever that is?”
“We’ll see when we get there. Hopefully find the people who have been taking these children
