The Final Strife

Three births in the last mooncycle. Bringing the total birth number to eight this year—down by fifty percent from last year. The Ghosting numbers dwindle further. I supervised the severing of their limbs and tongue. Enclosed as proof.

—Report by Auditor Julp

Sylah returned from a bloodwerk session with Jond to find Anoor sitting hunched over her desk. Sylah groaned when she saw what she was looking at.

“Not the map, again.” Sylah had listened to Anoor’s theories that something was amiss and believed most of them. But they’d found no proof. Nothing at all, and like Jond had said, once he was warden they’d have all the secrets at their disposal. She seated herself. “Anoor, you only have two days until the trial of tactics; please can you concentrate on that?”

“I’ve found something.”

“Really?” Sylah exhaled through her nose and sat up. She noticed the book Anoor was holding. The book was old, the title worn and the paint flecked. The Soil We Toil had been hovering around Anoor’s chambers for some time. Sylah had used it as a doorstop more than once.

“I picked this up that night you arrived, I was so curious about the map and—”

Sylah waved her hand to speed up the process.

“Oh…right…well.” Anoor held out the book to Sylah. “I noticed this was written during Warden Iko’s term as it mentioned her leading the guild of knowledge in the introduction.”

“Warden Iko…” Sylah tugged on her earlobe. “I don’t know her.”

Anoor’s eyes gleamed. “Me neither, so I looked her up. She was the Warden of Knowledge from nearly three hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Have you trained today at all?”

“No.” She held the book under Sylah’s eyes once more. “I kept reading and look, I found something.”

“ ‘The rubber tree, a native species to the land, was discovered when the empire was inhabited by the founding wardens. The trees can be tapped to produce sap…’ ”

Sylah rubbed her eyes. “Anoor, can you please explain why you didn’t practice today, and instead are showing me this?”

“This first bit, Sylah. Native, they’re native to the land.” Anoor’s grin grew triumphant. That was interesting. The Ending Fire was meant to have killed all life except the boats the wardens had captained containing Embers, Dusters, and Ghostings.

“That means—”

“We have proof, we have proof that the rubber trees were here before the wardens,” Anoor interrupted her.

“And that means—”

“The Ending Fire didn’t wipe them out.”

“Which means—”

“Other things might have survived the Ending Fire.”

“Or…”

“The Ending Fire didn’t happen at all…” Anoor reached for Sylah’s hand, the truth a fearsome thing between them. “What do we do now?”

It was a kernel of evidence, but it wasn’t enough. A thought struck Sylah, oily with an ulterior motive.

“We need to get into the warden library.”

Anoor slumped. “We can’t, Sylah. I was thinking about it before, and there’s just no way.”

Would Anoor admit her blood wouldn’t get them in? Could Sylah admit hers could?

“We can, and we must.” For Jond, for the Sandstorm. “Please.”

Sylah never said “please” and Anoor knew it.