Threading the Needle (43 page)

Dylan was right. The Primes had kept many secrets. A hidden orrery at one of the old nodes would have been exactly the kind of thing they'd keep to themselves.

But Riley shrugged. “It wasn't active when we arrived here. No more gawping.” He headed toward the table, heels clomping on the stone. The enforcers nudged them all from behind.

As they moved across the room, Kara noted that the walls weren't stone. They were paneled in wood and painted, the paint having flaked away in patches ages ago, littering the floor with dust. The wood appeared dry and cracked. The end of the room where Marcus now stood with the others, speaking to those at the table, was lit with more of the mundane pale white ley globes.

They drew up to the table, the largest Kara had ever seen, with the capacity to seat at least twenty and, unlike the wood on the walls, oiled and polished to a high sheen. It was covered in miscellaneous objects—smooth stones, polished wood, small figurines. Platters containing pitchers of water or wine, glasses, fruits, and cheeses were arrayed at
one end, a few plates and glasses sitting before or off to one side of those seated. The man Marcus spoke to had his back turned to Kara, so she could only see the back of his head, his hair black, streaked with gray. He wore a brown robe that reminded Kara of those worn by the Tenders like Ischua. The other three men were listening to Marcus as he described the end of their journey to the Needle. One of them was a White Cloak, but the other two wore enforcer uniforms, the cut and markings on shoulder and breast more formal looking than those worn by Riley and the others Kara had seen since Erenthrall. The eldest looked to be in his fifties, his face as scarred and pocked as the Dogs from the city, his eyes as brutal. Kara immediately thought of him as an alpha, the commander of the enforcers. His beta was at least ten years younger and wasn't as scarred. His hands were callused, as if he were used to heavy labor, and he didn't strike Kara as a fighter at all. The White Cloak had the thin face and build of a Temerite, with the trimmed beard common in the east.

“—when we met up with Iscivius and the others from Erenthrall. That's when the distortion over Tumbor quickened. We headed straight back to the Needle after that, checking the ley lines as we came.”

“And what did you see?” The man—Kara assumed it was the one they all called Father—had a voice that cracked, as if his throat had been scarred. It was weaker than Kara had expected as well, solid but frayed around the edges.

“The lines are in chaos again. Everything we've managed to gain since the Shattering has been undone.”

Father shifted in his seat, straightening. “Not everything. The lines coming from the north that were recently established using the old nodes are still active. Only the lines from Tumbor and Farrade have been severed. The others—Erenthrall and the nodes to the south and west—have been weakened and are erratic, but they are still holding. Our purpose has not changed. This is only a setback.”

“It's still a setback.”

“But it is one we will overcome.”

“You aren't the one dealing with the nodes, attempting to rearrange the ley lines to suit our purposes.”

“No, but I have faith that what has happened and what is happening now serves a single purpose—
our
purpose. I have known of you since
before the Shattering, Marcus. I know you share that faith as well. Am I wrong?”

“Of course not.”

“You were always impatient, if I recall. Don't let this setback throw you. I need you, as I needed you before.”

Iscivius fidgeted one step to the side and behind Marcus. “Father, I have news from our excursion to Erenthrall—”

Father raised one hand.

“You say that the quickening occurred at the same time as you met up with the group from Erenthrall?” Father asked Marcus.

“Yes. Immediately after.”

“I see.”

No one spoke.

“I believe it is a sign.” Father rose from his seat, the fingers of one hand steepled on the table. “I think it's time I met those you brought from Erenthrall, Iscivius.”

He turned. Kara didn't know what she'd expected—a wizened old man? A hardened warrior to match the cracked voice?—but he was neither of those. She fought back a pang of disappointment. This Father everyone had been speaking so highly of since they'd been captured by the White Cloaks looked ordinary. She would have placed him in his forties except for the sense of age around his eyes. There, the wrinkles spoke of someone older, early fifties, perhaps. His skin was otherwise smooth, his hair pure gray around the ears, streaked with gray above. His face was round, his features plain. If his eyes hadn't been completely clouded over with white, he would have faded into any crowd in Erenthrall.

But those eyes. Even though the pupils were covered, they cut into Kara when he looked at her. He should have been blind, with cataracts so advanced, but she knew he could see her. In fact, she sucked in a breath of shock as their gazes met.

She suddenly understood why they revered him. The intensity of his gaze, the fierceness and power behind it, instilled her with an uncertain awe.

He broke the look, glancing toward Adder, Dylan, Carter, and Aaron, before returning to her. He shifted closer to her, close enough she could smell his clothes. They reeked of some kind of pungent incense,
over a layer of heavy smoke. His robe was clean, but there were small holes burned into it, especially near the cuffs of the sleeves.

Something familiar about the man's face niggled at the back of Kara's mind. “Who are you? Why have you abducted us?”

“I am the Father, the leader of the Kormanley. Or the White Cloaks, as we've begun to be called by outsiders. The real question is, who are you?”

Kara glanced toward Marcus. “He hasn't told you?”

Father shifted slightly, but did not look away from her. “No, he has not.”

“Kara. Kara Tremain.”

“Kara.” It was said without inflection, but Father looked toward Marcus.

“It's her.”

Father turned back to her. “A sign indeed. I think everything that we've fought for since the Shattering is about to come to fruition, as I foresaw.”

Behind them both, Iscivius stirred. “She won't cooperate. She attempted to escape on our way here.”

“And would you not have, Iscivius? I doubt that.” Iscivius glared at the back of Father's head. Kara had the distinct impression Father knew. “I don't think it's necessary, at least in Kara's case, but Lecrucius, would you test them?”

The Temerite White Cloak stood and made his way around the table. He was slightly shorter than Kara, head tilted as he looked up into Kara's eyes. His expression was stern. “You may feel a tingling sensation.” Then he reached out and rested a hand on Kara's head.

Kara tried not to flinch away, but her body tensed. A moment later she realized what Lecrucius was doing. She'd seen the test performed on hundreds of students when she was attending school in Erenthrall, and had undergone the test herself after her parents' deaths at Seeley's Park. Lecrucius was a Prime. He was testing her to see if she had any talent for manipulating the ley.

She felt a prickling sensation course down through her body, but the prickling faded before she could draw another breath.

Lecrucius removed his hand. “She's strong. Stronger than everyone we've found so far. Definitely a Wielder. Most likely a Prime.”

Adder gripped her arm.

“I'm all right,” she said. “It wasn't like the first test. I only felt a faint tingling then, at the back of my neck. Like an itch. This was more intense.”

“You've grown in strength since then.” Lecrucius turned to Adder with a frown.

The Dog scanned the immediate area, as if preparing to run, but then his shoulders sagged. He bowed his head as Lecrucius reached forward, and Kara suddenly realized where the gesture of benediction she'd seen Marcus using out on the plains and inside the walls of the Needle came from.

After a breathless moment, Lecrucius removed his hand. “Nothing. He's simply a Dog.”

Lecrucius moved on to Dylan, Carter, then Aaron.

“Both are Wielders,” the Prime said, pointing to Dylan and Carter. “Not as strong as Kara, but stronger than most. The boy has a touch of power, but he's not strong enough to bother training. He'd never have been selected as a Wielder before the Shattering.”

Aaron appeared startled by the announcement. Kara had to remind herself that he'd been born and raised in the Hollow. None of those like him in the Hollow would have been tested. Some of them could have the potential to be Wielders, and they'd never know unless their talent manifested like it had for Kara. But why would it? There was no ley node near the Hollow that would awaken the talent, like the one in Halliel's Park had for Kara. No one from the Hollow had been exposed to a significant amount of ley at all. They could live, grow old, and die without ever knowing they were a Wielder. The same would be true for any of the villages and towns significantly distant from the ley lines.

But for someone in the Hollow, whose residents shunned the ley, finding out they could manipulate the ley wouldn't be a welcome revelation.

“I could have told you that,” Iscivius said. “We've been watching them since we took them in Erenthrall from the Underearthers.”

“It's better to have it verified. Thank you, Lecrucius. We will discuss how best to use these new resources once Marcus has seen for himself the extent of the damage to the Needle.”

Lecrucius returned to his seat but kept his gaze on Kara, his expression calculating.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Carter declared his intentions to become
a White Cloak on the way here. I accepted, but told him you would have to pass the final judgment, Father.”

“I see.” He stepped toward Carter without pause. “You are Carter?”

The Wielder swallowed. “Yes.”

Father's hand rose and gripped him beneath the chin, forced him to look into his white, filmy eyes. The man twisted Carter's head left and right, the young Wielder trembling, and then thrust him back.

“His intention is true—he does wish to join us—but his confidence in his abilities is flawed.” Father turned his back on him. “Commander Ty.”

The older man with the scars stood. “Yes, Father?”

“Take the two non-Wielders to a cell. We'll deal with them later. Marcus, escort our Wielders to their new rooms.”

Ty began moving forward, Riley and the rest of the enforcers closing in from behind. When Riley grabbed her arm, she jerked away and shouted, “No! You can't separate us. I won't allow it.”

Riley attempted to grab her again and she lashed out. Adder and the others began to struggle as well. Adder kicked out, foot slamming into an enforcer's chest, then punched another so hard Kara heard a crack and saw blood fly from the man's mouth. Another enforcer grabbed Aaron from behind, the Hollower yelling and beginning to squirm. Dylan tried to turn and fight, but with his injured knee, he could barely remain standing.

Kara kept her eye on Riley, dodging to the side when he reached out to grab her, batting his arm away. She didn't see Marcus until he'd reached around her from behind and pinned her arms to her sides. She spat a curse and began struggling, wrenching hard to the left, but Marcus tightened his hold and barked into her ear, “Enough! If you keep fighting, they'll both be killed.”

Kara jerked one more time as the words sank in, then sagged in his grip. Aaron and Dylan had already been subdued. Only Adder remained free, facing off against Ty, the two Dogs glaring at each other, both ready for a fight.

“You'll regret this. I'll never help you, whatever it is you intend to do.”

She'd intended the words for Marcus, but Father answered. “I think you will. I've foreseen it.”

No one responded, the tension in the room shifting from Kara, Marcus, and Father to Ty and Adder.

“I was one of Daedallen's seconds. Do you want to test me, Dog?”

Adder's fists rose slightly, then lowered. “Not today.”

Ty motioned the rest of his enforcers forward. They surrounded Aaron and Dylan, Riley seizing hold of Adder himself, and forced all three of them toward the door. Carter trailed after. Marcus didn't loosen his hold. His breath was hot against Kara's neck, his clasped hands tight under her breasts, his body pressed up hard against her back. She squirmed as the others disappeared through the door with Riley, Ty, and the enforcers.

“Let go of me.”

“If you promise not to do anything stupid.”

Kara nodded.

Marcus loosened his grip. As soon as his hands released, she shoved away, spinning to face him.

“Just like old times, huh, Kara?”

She flinched.

“Enough,” Father interrupted. “Darius, accompany Marcus and our new Wielder to her rooms. I don't think she'll give us any more trouble. She knows her friends will pay the price.”

The younger commander at the table rose and ushered her and Marcus into the outer corridor.

Marcus led her to the left, the side hallway curving almost imperceptibly ahead of them. Again they passed doorways and cross-corridors, only a quarter of the other halls lit with ley globes, most of the rooms to either side closed, those with open doors or without doors at all appearing empty or shrouded in darkness.

A short time later, they entered an area that was obviously in use, the corridors less dusty, the smell of ancient stone cut by incense, the savor of roasted meat and other cooking, and the sourness of sweat. Kara heard voices behind some of the doors, and a moment later they passed two White Cloaks. They nodded to Marcus, but kept their heads bowed as he passed and followed Kara afterward with their eyes. A room to the right held a woman sharpening knives on a whetstone, another held two children husking corn, unsupervised.

They passed a much wider corridor, continuing on its far side, the tenor of the hall changing. Here there were enforcers mingling in the halls or relaxing in their rooms, all with the air of rank. Kara assumed these were barracks for the commanders, more central than the
barracks for the common soldiers she'd seen below. The men and women they passed eyed Kara critically, judging her potential as a threat, most dismissing her after a few seconds.