“Well, you know Ciana died when the temple was dark. And in the Year of Songs, I was born instead.”
“The gas did it?” Whit asked.
I nodded. “Yes. Once he realized what he’d done, he left Heart to figure out the details. The mixture he’d been working with had been a mistake, one he wasn’t sure how to reproduce. So he built this place, and eighteen years later, he had a breakthrough.
“He’d been working with sylph. I can show you footage, if you want. He documented everything. And one day, his mixture put all the sylph in the area to sleep.”
A couple of people muttered, but mostly they just waited.
“He experimented on the sylph repeatedly, logging how long the poison affected them, the size of the doses—everything. He realized they quickly developed a tolerance for the poison, so it was useless as a weapon.
“And then,” Orrin said, “he took the poison to Heart.”
“Why are you calling it a poison?” Moriah asked. “It doesn’t kill them, does it?”
Other people chimed in with more questions, but stopped when I held up my hands. “It doesn’t kill them. They recover, and there seem to be no lasting effects. But they are put to sleep involuntarily.” I shrugged. “If someone did that to me, I’d think of it as poison.”
Moriah nodded, satisfied with that.
“As for what happened next, Orrin, you’re right.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “For reasons only Menehem will ever understand, he trapped dozens of sylph in eggs, then took them and a large quantity of the poison to Heart. He set the sylph free and delivered the poison. That night, dragons came too.”
The lab was silent, except for the humming of the machine in the back.
“So.” Moriah tilted her head. “The poison was intended as a weapon against the sylph, but it affected Janan too. Why? How? They aren’t the same things.”
I glanced at Sam, but he offered no answers. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “There’s a connection between them, but I don’t know what it is.”
“And we’re here because . . .” someone in the back asked.
“Because we’re safe here.” For now.
“What about the poison?” Lorin asked. “Is that still a danger?”
A danger. Not an option for stopping Janan. It was as I’d anticipated: they didn’t mind the newsouls who already existed in their lives, but they weren’t willing to risk their own immortality.
Maybe if they knew that oldsouls had been replacing newsouls this whole time—not the other way around—they’d think differently. But even if I told them, they wouldn’t remember. The memory magic would never let them.
I hated that. They’d all made the bargain for immortality. Every one of them had traded countless newsouls for their own reincarnation. And none of them could remember.
“The poison isn’t a danger,” I whispered, as though I hadn’t just hidden twenty canisters full of it. “Menehem used an incredible amount on Janan the night of Templedark, and the sylph gained tolerance exponentially. If he isn’t immune to it now, he’s very near.”
They nodded, mostly reassured. After a few more questions, we slid the cover off the video screen and prepared a few discs so they could witness Menehem’s first success with putting sylph to sleep, and his first ideas on how to prove the existence of Janan.
Then, after convincing Rin to give me as much basic medical training as we could fit in, I pulled out the temple books and began the long process of translating the few symbols I knew.
Sam leaned over. “I thought you were going to tell them that I turned on the machine.”
I cast my eyes down at the books and smoothed a bent corner of paper. “It’s easier if they don’t know.”
I’d been attacked and betrayed too many times to trust anyone but our closest friends. People had been killed because I’d trusted someone I shouldn’t have, like Wend, and I wouldn’t let that happen again. Not ever.
From now on, I’d tell everyone only what they needed to know, and when they needed to know it.
A few days later, Sam received a call. When he clicked off, he was pale. “That was Armande.”
Everyone in the lab went quiet.
“Deborl has named himself Speaker. With the majority of the Council gone, that makes him the sole leader of Heart. He’s sent Merton and a team of three dozen out of the city. Armande doesn’t know what they’re after or what direction they headed, but I think it’s safe to assume they’re looking for us.
“Meanwhile, Deborl has put several of his friends in charge of the guard, and all the entrances to Heart have been sealed. There’s a citywide curfew, and anyone who stands up for newsouls is imprisoned.”
No one spoke.
“It gets worse,” Sam said. “Deborl has dispatched air drones, programmed to find us.”
I used my hand to mark my place in the temple book on my lap. “Why send air drones if he’s sent people too?” I shook that away. “Rather, why send people if he’s sent air drones? That seems like a waste of time.”
“Perhaps he has another goal for them.” Whit glanced west, toward Heart. “At any rate, we won’t have to worry about Merton and the others for a while. We disabled all the other vehicles in Heart, and it will take them days to walk here in this weather, assuming they even know where we are. It’s the drones we need to worry about.”
“I may be able to reprogram those.” Stef looked up from her SED. “Though I can’t promise Deborl’s people won’t catch the changes. I’ll monitor the program.
“I’m also sending the archive of maps to everyone’s SEDs, so we ought to go over your route once more—and then you should leave. Everyone not staying with Ana needs to get as far away from Range as possible. Tonight.”
That evening, the eight vehicles parked in front of the lab were gone. Only Sam, Stef, and Whit remained with me.
“Why don’t we leave?” Whit asked, as we settled down for bed. “If Deborl is searching for us, why are we staying in one spot?”
“I’m waiting for someone.” But when I stared out the window, Cris and the other sylph were nowhere to be seen.
9 PATH
NOW THAT THE others were gone, Menehem’s lab was too quiet, and I spent all my time poring over the temple books and translations of symbols, hoping for a breakthrough. But if there was anything about how to stop Janan, I hadn’t seen it yet.
“We need to consider moving on,” Whit said one afternoon. “Every day we stay here is another day Deborl might find us.”
“Especially since we’ll have to walk.” Sam flipped through his SED, checking for earthquakes and eruptions around Range. From beside him, I could see several red dots on the screen, but none of them were very large.
“And carry all our things.” Stef looked up from reading through Menehem’s notes on building his machine.
“We’re waiting for the sylph.” I turned a page in the temple book and scribbled out a few more possible translations. “And Cris.”
Whit cocked his head at me. “Wait, how will Cris be here? He died during the riot on market day.”
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “Stef. Your turn.”
She sighed. “You promise if we tell him enough, he’ll start to remember?”
I nodded, face still buried in my hands. “It worked on Sam. The magic will crack and fade, but it takes time.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Whit muttered darkly.
“Cris is a sylph now.” Stef headed for the kitchen area, an empty coffee mug in hand. “When Deborl trapped Cris, Ana, and me inside the temple, Cris sacrificed himself in order to free us.”
“You were inside the temple?” Whit asked.