Eryn
"Hold still for one more second, dear," Canae said, taking a horse hair brush and using it to spread some moist goop around Eryn's hairline. She then pulled a little bit harder on the wig of blonde hair she had spent the last three weeks sewing, and pushed it against the goop. "Now, you'll need to keep this dry, or the glue will soften up and the wig will fall off. We don't want that to happen, do we?"
"No," Eryn said. 'We definitely do not want that to happen."
Almost a two months had passed since they had arrived in Elling, and taken up residence with the Tilling Theater Troupe.
The first week had been a tense time for all of them, with Letten and his men coming by every day to ransack the place and search for Silas. When they hadn't turned him up, he had sworn to Edgar that he would find him, and when he did he would know if Edgar had been involved or not. In a fit of angry frustration, he had promised that when that time came, he would finish the job the first fire had started, and he would make sure the doors were barred closed with all of them inside.
By the third week, Letten only came two or three times. They knew to expect him by now, and had gone as far as to keep their belongings in a state of disarray, so the soldiers had little to do but walk in and walk out.
This week, he hadn't come at all.
Eryn had enjoyed the time more than she had believed she could, and she found joy in the company provided by the troupe. They lived on the meager earnings they could gather doing impromptu performances, tricks, or jokes in the busier, wealthier streets of the city center, and shared everything they had with one another, without question. It was this openness, honesty, and togetherness that had helped her feel so at home. The troupe was like her village, but on an even smaller scale.
Her family had never been forgotten, and in quieter times she felt guilty for enjoying herself as much as she did with her new family. She still cried for their loss from time to time, but she always kept her mother's words in her mind. Survive.
She did worry about Silas though. He had been unhappy when Edgar suggested they remain in the theater until Letten had stopped making appearances. He was eager to find the Overlord, to see his face in hopes that he would remember more of his past. The Overlord's letter had suggested that time would help him regain himself, and while he had reclaimed some of who he once was, it hadn't improved his memory. It had improved his skill with a sword, if that could be believed.
Stuck inside, Eryn had been at Silas' disposal, and he took on the role of her teacher with total purpose. Not that she would ever complain, despite the soreness in her arms and legs by the end of the day, or the seeming pointlessness of some of the exercises he forced her through. Looking back these weeks later, her body was stronger than it had ever been, as was her mind.
In the beginning, he would teach her for four hours every day, and she would be so exhausted she would fall onto her straw and sleep for the next four. Now, she would continue practicing on her own after their lesson, going through the moves he had taught her again and again until he would glance over and tell her it was perfect.
"My brother was in his army," Galvan had told her once, when she was sitting on her bed watching Silas strengthening his body through a series of strange stretches and poses. "I don't know what he's doing, or where he learned to fight, but it wasn't from being a soldier."
Eryn had found the statement peculiar, and she had asked Silas about it later. He had been as confused as she was, telling her he was simply doing what his mind and body was telling him it wanted to do. All of the techniques were in his muscles already, he had said. He was just reintroducing them after a long hibernation.
The weeks had given her time to practice calling on her Curse as well. She only did so when she could sneak away to the burned out upper floor of the theater, which she had discovered held half a roof collapsed at the north end, the splinters of which mingled with stacked benches that we mostly turned into black, charred logs of wood, and at the bottom a large stage. It was the stage that had survived the worst of the damage. It was still partially covered by the roof, and it stayed somewhat dry in the rain, so that was where she would stand.
She would close her eyes and focus on her breathing. She discovered that the power from her Curse always came easiest if she brought herself back to her father's forge, and concentrated on the rhythm and the sound of the bellows stoking the fires. She would feel the tingle between her ears, and if she concentrated well enough she found she could direct it throughout her body. The question she had been increasingly asking herself was, now what?
It was one thing to draw in the power and activate it. Once she held it, she didn't know what to do with it. She was afraid to bring the blue stone to the stage with her, for fear she would burn down the theater, or attract unwanted attention.
She had tried a few times to slow down time, or speed herself up, or whatever it was Silas had told her she had done, but all she had ever accomplished was to make herself vomit. She could do small things pretty well, like unlock doors, or create a small force of air, or enlarge the strength of an existing fire in the fireplace. They were nice tricks, but she knew they would never be enough to help her confront him. She had managed to do incredible things when her emotions ran high, but she had no memory of it, and she had no ability to intentionally create the same effect.
There was something else. Something that scared her more than she wanted to admit. Using too much power had caused her to pass out in the past. Practicing too much with it in a single day gave her a massive headache, and there was one time she could have sworn she had seen a grey scale on the back of her arm. She had blinked, and it had been gone, but it had reminded her of Malik and his journal. She hadn't tried to use the Curse for days after.
"I wonder if Lanae is finished with Silas yet," Canae said. She reached over to the dressing table in front of them and picked up a hand mirror, holding it so Eryn could see herself.
If she hadn't known it was her, she wouldn't have known it was her. Her hair had reached a boyish length, but it was still too obvious to be seen on a girl. Her face had thinned a little from the hard exercise and light meals the troupe shared, but she thought it looked more adult, especially with the long blonde hair Canae had just finished gluing to her. A few well-placed bits of putty widened her nose and lengthened her chin, and thick makeup put it all together seamlessly. She didn't think she looked like an attractive woman, but she did think she looked like a woman, not a girl.
"You are amazing," she said to Canae.
"Thank you, dear. Remember, don't get it wet."
Eryn pushed herself out of the chair. There was one main wardrobe area underneath the theater, with separate dressing rooms for the men and the women. It was filled with all kinds of clothes, as well as any small prop that could be imagined; from a dull longsword to a heavy metal throne. A pair of staircases twisted around a wooden pole on either end of the space, leading directly up to the stage above.
Eryn went over to the men's dressing room and knocked on the door. "Silas, are you ready?"
"He'll be right there," Lanae said. "I'm just finishing his nose."
Eryn smiled and walked over to the wardrobe mirror to look at herself in full. Canae had put her in a simple, long-sleeved green dress that fell to her knees, and a pair of not-very-comfortable matching green slippers. She had also forced her to wear a special undergarment she had devised, mounted with a lot of extra padding around the chest. Eryn put her hands up to it and shifted it, trying to get it into position to look somewhat natural. It felt weird to her to have such a large protrusion there.
"Don't worry," Silas said from behind her. How had he opened the door so quietly? "If anyone comes at you with a knife, you can use those to defend yourself."
Eryn felt her face turn red, and she turned around to playfully scold him. "Silas?" She couldn't believe it was him.
He spread his arms wide. "How do I look?" he asked.
Lanae had dyed his hair to a soft brown, and tied it behind his head in a ponytail. She had made his nose wider to match Eryn's, and put makeup all over his face to hide the weather lines and wrinkles. She had dressed him a white cotton shirt with a rich brown leather jerkin over it, and finished it off with loose black leather pants that tucked into tall black boots.
"You look like you could be my father, instead of my grandfather," she replied, laughing in amazement at the sight of him. "I'd never know it was you."
"I do have to stay out of the rain," he said. "It will wash the makeup and the dye out."
"The putty will fall off too," Lanae said. "That goes for sweating as well, so try to stay out of trouble."
"Trouble?" Silas asked. "Me?"
Lanae started laughing, and she slapped him on the shoulder. The sisters had taken a strong liking to Silas, both for having risked his life to help Robar and Sena, and for his continued devotion to his lost love. He had told Eryn more than once how those were the memories that he missed more than any of the others.
"Are we ready to go then, Eryn?" he asked.
She nodded. Today was the first day Edgar hadn't told them they should remain inside, and they were both eager to move ahead with their plans. They would be going to the Elling library first, so that Eryn could begin learning of the history of the Empire, and after that they would seek out the Overlord. Alain had told them there was a public hanging scheduled for this evening; a soldier who had tried to abandon his army.
They climbed the stairs up to the ballroom, where Edgar and Bryant were working to patch some of the leaks in the ceiling. Eryn had given them most of the coin she had in her purse, both to repay them for their hospitality, and in the spirit of their troupe's communal arrangement. Edgar had resisted until the end, but she had found an ally in Morie, who had taken her coin one by one and snuck it into the pool. Of all the entertainers, the dwarf was her favorite. He had a quick wit, and a playful humor that reminded her of Roddin.
Edgar saw them coming. "Bryant, come down for a moment," he said. The big man climbed down the ladder so Edgar wouldn't have to hold it steady. "You're off then?"
"Yes," Silas said. "Is it safe?"
Edgar dug into his pocket, and removed a metal disc like the one Roque had given to Penticott. According to his tale, he had taken a set from his brother. There was a spotter on one of the nearby rooftops who had its twin. He squeezed it a few times. A moment later, it vibrated in his hand.
"It's safe," he said. "The nearest soldiers are three blocks east. Go north two blocks before you cut over towards the library."
"Be careful," Bryant said. He looked at Eryn. "Green is good color for you."
She felt her face flush a little at the compliment. "Thank you, Bryant."
Alain opened the door as they approached, and bowed to them. "Good hunting," he said.
It hurt Eryn's eyes to be outside. They had spent so much time holed up in the theater, which was lit only by candles and the fireplace, that her eyes weren't accustomed to the brightness. She hadn't realized until that moment how much she had missed it.
"I like them," Eryn said. "But I don't think I could live that way forever."
Silas nodded. "If I had to be in there another week I might have killed someone. The Elling library is near the city center, about halfway up the hill to the Palace. It's free for his nobles, but like everything else, if you're a commoner, you have to pay a tax." He patted his pants, and she heard the jingle of coin.
"What do you think he does with the tax money he collects?"
"It's expensive to run an empire, and he has a large army to pay for. If what Edgar tells me is true, he's going to need it."
"What did Edgar tell you?"
They reached the second block north, and turned west. Eryn could see the street begin to slope up, and the two tall towers of the Palace were easy to spy from there. She wondered if anyone ever went up to the top of them, and if they did, why they never saw the spotters on the rooftops. Maybe it was up too high.
"More unrest, more Cursed. Entertainers travel further and more often than any other profession. They send a lot of information through one another, about what is happening in the Empire. Robar said he wasn't big on politics, but that didn't mean he didn't know what was going on."
"Do you think there will be war?"
"Eventually, yes. Something has changed in the Empire. I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it. It's there, waiting below the surface. Waiting for something."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but she didn't ask. The further west they walked, the more crowded the streets became. They had to be careful what they spoke of.
"Eddard, look," she said when she saw the poster. Eddard was the alias Silas had chosen for himself. Eryn had been given the name Farah, a suggestion from Morie.
The poster was an almost accurate drawing of Silas, with a notice of a reward for his body. It was nailed to side of a tavern at a busy intersection near the city center.
He looked at it, and then looked around, as though he had studied it so he could find the killer and claim the reward. Then he took her hand and led her north. The road wound upwards around the hill, and she could see the Palace wasn't that far away.
"There it is," Silas said as the reached the end of the turn. He was pointing at a white stone building with two large wooden doors and a dome rising from the center.
Eryn was expecting it to be bigger. "It's so small," she said.
"I expect there are a lot of things he doesn't want his people to read. I don't know if you'll find what you're looking for in there, but you have to see it for yourself."
She stared at the library for a minute more. "Maybe it is small, but that doesn't mean that the answers I seek aren't waiting inside."
There was a guard at the door, a soldier. Eryn was a little bit nervous approaching him, but Silas seemed confident enough in their disguises.
"How much is the tax these days?" Silas asked.
"Two copper," the guard replied, holding out his hand.
Silas reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. He found the two small orange ones, and handed them over. They moved to enter, but he stepped in front of the door. Eryn felt her heart lurch at the motion. Had he recognized them?
"Each," the guard said.
Silas chuckled, and dug around until he found two more of the coins. Once he had given them over, the guard moved out of the way.
The library may have been small, but it was impressive. The dome in the center was ringed with windows, and light filtered in at the perfect angle to illuminate rows of books stacked neatly on burnished wooden shelves, encircling a common area with tables and chairs where all manner of people read through them. Some wrote notes with paper and quill of their own, and others simply examined the texts.
It was the smell of the paper that captured her. It was a musty but clean smell, the smell of knowledge and information. She looked at all of the books, and then turned to Silas.
"Where do I start?" she asked.
"History, I suppose," Silas said.
They moved through the rows of books together, until they found on aptly titled, 'The History of the Empire'. Eryn pulled it off the shelf, and they retired to one of the tables.
She could barely contain her excitement when she flipped open the leather bound cover of the thick tome. As deep as the book was, it had to contain what she sought.
She turned to the first page. It began with a description of the Empire, the thirty provinces, and each of their names. On the second page was a map. On the third page, the book began listing each of the Overlords of each of the provinces, from the first to the last as of the time the book was scribed. She raced through the pages, searching for something about him, something about his role in creating the Empire, and about how he had come to power. What had they been before him?
She reached the end of the book with a sigh that was loud enough to draw looks. 'The History of the Empire' didn't contain a single word about its ruler.
"Let me see if there is another," she said, getting up and returning to the shelves.
She scanned each title. 'Famous Battles of the Empire' looked promising, but when she pulled it down and scanned through it, she found it only contained histories of uprisings in each of the province, and how the great and powerful armies of the Empire defeated them, usually in a matter of days.
"What about a history of the Cursed?" she whispered. "Or a history of the Mediators? What about anything that explains the need for the ore mines, or why nobody knows who he is, where his home is, or how he came into his rule?"
She was getting angry enough to scream, so she put her latest title back on the shelf and returned to where Silas was sitting, watching the other patrons.
"There's nothing," she said. She couldn't hide the anger in her voice.
"Not nothing," Silas replied.
He made a subtle gesture to a man standing near one of the shelves. He was an older man, bald on the top of his head with a ring of grey hair around it. He wore a simple long tunic cinched at the waist with a gilded rope, and he had a framed piece of glass resting in front of his right eye.
"He was very interested in what you were reading, and your reaction. I think we should go talk to him."
The man glanced their way, saw them looking, and nervously turned his head and shuffled over behind one of the rows so they couldn't see him. Silas stood up and they walked over to where he was.
"Good day, my friend," Silas said. "I couldn't help but notice the interest you were taking in my daughter."
He looked embarrassed at that, and he stammered out a reply. "No. Not... Not your daughter." He lowered his voice. "The books. The titles." His eyes danced between them, and settled on Silas. "Did you know a man named Aren Rast?"