It was without a doubt a disconcerting feeling. One that Ryl had grown to begrudgingly accept over the long cycles. They ran the gamut of baleful looks that ranged somewhere between apathy and hatred from the guards. The citizens of Vim looked upon him with either simple acceptance or wide-eyed stares of awe and reverence.
None made him feel comfortable, yet acceptance of them was a necessary evil. They unfortunately could not be controlled.
“There are other phrenics here? In Damaris?” Old Man Averine’s excitement was poorly concealed. His body trembled with emotion.
Ryl cast a rapid glance to his side, meeting eyes with Fay. The lord wore a broad smile. He nodded subtly, silent acknowledgment that there was nothing to fear.
“Aye. There are more. Phrenics once again walk openly in Damaris,” Ryl acknowledged.
Averine grabbed the back of a chair at the closest table, dragging it with him as he approached. The wooden legs scraped as they skipped across the floorboards. Without asking, he wedged the chair between Ryl and Aelin to his side. The confused young tribute graciously moved aside as the newcomer joined the party at the table.
“I can see from your markings that you too have joined the brethren,” he mumbled to himself. His hands fell upon Ryl’s right arm without consent. “The tattoos cannot lie. A masterwork.”
Lord Eligar cleared his throat from Ryl’s opposite side. The attention snapped the enamored man from his investigation. Breila merely watched the scene with unveiled surprise and shock. Aelin, for his part, tried his best to contain his abject amusement at the absurdity of the actions.
Old Man Averine’s eyes were apologetic as they returned to Ryl’s face.
“The prophecy of the seer Lupl has withstood the testament of time,” he announced as his voice choked with emotion.
Moisture swelled in the corners of his eyes.
“The catalyst has returned.”
The old man buried his face in his hands and wept.
Chapter 34
It was several long moments before Averine regained enough control of his faculties to entertain conversation. He looked suspiciously at Aelin and Breila, leaning closer toward Ryl and Lord Eligar as he spoke.
“There is much I need to tell you in the assuredly abbreviated time we have together,” he cautioned. “I know the loyalties of you and our young lord. Your friends are strangers to me.”
Ryl raised his hand, stopping the elderly man before he continued.
“The boy beside you is a tribute, like me. The woman I trust with my life,” Ryl stated emphatically. “I assure you, your words risk nothing in their presence.”
Averine pondered the statement for a moment, casting his appraising look between Ryl and his companions. He turned his head to Aelin, his wild look reverting into one of genuine concern and compassion.
“My boy, though my words will likely mean nothing to one who has suffered the cruel twist as you have, know that I am truly sorry.” Averine teetered on the verge of tears once more. He placed his hand tenderly on Aelin’s shoulder. “We have failed you. We were not strong enough, not wise enough to save you. We have done all we could from the shadows. I’m afraid nearly all went unnoticed.”
Aelin was speechless. His eyes appraised the elderly man before him. Ryl watched as his hands balled into and out of fists. He knew the battle that was raging in his mind—it was one he had suffered through on countless occasions before the cold acceptance numbed the pain.
“It is I who need to thank you,” Ryl announced, breaking the moment between elder and tribute. “If it weren’t for you, I would languish in a processing facility to this day. Yet I still don’t understand how you found me. How did you know what I was to become?”
The expression on Averine’s face, moments ago a picture of remorse and sadness, morphed as he turned his head again to Ryl. The grin threatened to split his face in two. He seemed to beam with joy and pride.
“To understand that, you must know who we are. What we have worked for generations to achieve,” he continued. “To call us an organization would categorize us in a dangerous way. We are a movement with no structure, no name. There is no hierarchy to breed jealousy or contempt. We have remained as nothing more than the whisper of discontent since the inception of the Ascertaining Decree. We have watched silently, helping from the shadows when we can.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he carried on with his explanation. Ryl found himself listening with rapt attention, though he knew time was short. The streams of light from the fading sunlight had vanished, giving way to the comforting disguise of darkness. He needed to find Kaep. The darkness of the night would be his aid.
“From parents to siblings, we have passed on our silent legacy,” Averine carried on without pause. “I was steeped in the phrenic lore from the time I was but a boy, as was my father and his before. The name was kept alive in the strictest of confidence.”
Ryl took a minute to digest the information that was relayed, though questions remained.
“How have you kept track of the tributes?” Ryl quizzed. “How could you have known when the catalyst would come?”
“There is a simplicity in the plan, yet the initial sacrifices were great.” Averine shook his head sadly. “There were those who sacrificed themselves. They discarded their morals, their families for the promise of hope. Though it may be generations beyond when the world would remember their name or deed. Their sin, their pledge of fealty to the king, cost them the freedom of their lives, though they would be proud to know it has saved yours.”
Averine leaned forward, placing his bony elbows on the table. He rubbed his hands together idly.
“So you see, the monarchical indifference that has plagued this kingdom has blindly rewarded generations based on a solitary, feigned
