like so much else since learning of Althem’s betrayal.
“You said that you wanted to see peace brought to the kingdoms,” Roine said, guiding Tan toward a far wall.
A large map hung there, different than the one hanging in the hall. This depicted the kingdoms only. Nothing beyond the borders was shown. Ethea sat off-center, staggered to the east rather than in the center of the kingdoms. Tan recognized why that would be even if others did not. The founders of the kingdoms, those who first pulled these lands—including Ethea—from the sea, had intended to create another place of convergence. Doing so required sitting at the heart of the land, much like the place of convergence in the mountains had once sat at the center of the land, long before shapers had claimed Vatten and stretches of Ter from the sea.
“Your mother said that we are much alike. In that, I think she is more right than she realized. When I was your age, I thought the same as you. I thought I could bring peace to the kingdoms, that if I wanted it enough, I could shape it into being.” Roine stared at the map, his eyes losing focus. “For years, that’s what I strove for. Even through the Incendin War, I wanted nothing but peace. So much was lost then. Shapers. Warriors. The hope I’d carried to find a lasting peace.” He turned away from the map and caught Tan’s eyes. “You see, when Incendin attacked, others thought to capitalize on a perceived weakness. It was not only Incendin that we had to deal with.”
As he said it, Tan realized what Roine was implying. He remembered stories told to him by his father. Stories that he had thought his father had heard rather than lived firsthand. They detailed Theondar, pushing back an attack by Stinnis. The island nation had sought to claim part of Vatten, coming across the sea by boat, terrorizing the shorelines. Without Roine, the coastal regions of Vatten might have been lost. And then there was the Roke invasion. Roke had long ago been claimed by Chenir, but there was a faction that sought to carve out land of their own, taking from Ter. Without the warriors—without Theondar—they might not have been stopped.
“Why do you think the kingdoms are always under threat of attack, Tannen?” Roine asked gently.
Why couldn’t they find a way to reach a lasting peace, one that didn’t require constant battling? “I don’t know.”
“You do, but you don’t want to admit it to yourself. The kingdoms have always been flush with shapers. More than any other land. Sure, Incendin has fire shapers and Doma has some shapers of their own, but they were never found in the same quantities as the kingdoms.”
“Shaping has become less common even in the kingdoms,” Tan reminded him.
Roine’s face clouded. “Yes, and we still don’t understand why that might be. Having you has been a start. And Althem, even though what he did disgusts me, if even half of these children can learn to shape, then we’re already well on our way to rebuilding the university.” Roine turned back to the map and then made his way down the wall to another.
This showed the lands beyond the kingdoms, with the kingdoms at the center. The map made everything look so small. The kingdoms were there, the separate nations of Vatten, Ter, Nara, and Galen all joined together, but they were small compared to the surrounding lands. Incendin rivaled the kingdoms for size. Chenir, to the north of Incendin, might be small and isolated, but it was nearly the size of Ter. And beyond the sea, the map marked where Par-shon and the Xsa Isles were found, far off the coast of Incendin. Once, that distance would have seemed impossible, but now that Tan knew how to travel by a warrior shaping, it could be traversed in moments.
“You see, we are but a small part of something greater,” Roine said. “All would like the strength our shapers have. Were they able, they would take our shapers, much like Incendin once took Doma shapers, twisting
“You said that you wanted to see peace brought to the kingdoms,” Roine said, guiding Tan toward a far wall.
A large map hung there, different than the one hanging in the hall. This depicted the kingdoms only. Nothing beyond the borders was shown. Ethea sat off-center, staggered to the east rather than in the center of the kingdoms. Tan recognized why that would be even if others did not. The founders of the kingdoms, those who first pulled these lands—including Ethea—from the sea, had intended to create another place of convergence. Doing so required sitting at the heart of the land, much like the place of convergence in the mountains had once sat at the center of the land, long before shapers had claimed Vatten and stretches of Ter from the sea.
“Your mother said that we are much alike. In that, I think she is more right than she realized. When I was your age, I thought the same as you. I thought I could bring peace to the kingdoms, that if I wanted it enough, I could shape it into being.” Roine stared at the map, his eyes losing focus. “For years, that’s what I strove for. Even through the Incendin War, I wanted nothing but peace. So much was lost then. Shapers. Warriors. The hope I’d carried to find a lasting peace.” He turned away from the map and caught Tan’s eyes. “You see, when Incendin attacked, others thought to capitalize on a perceived weakness. It was not only Incendin that we had to deal with.”
As he said it, Tan realized what Roine was implying. He remembered stories told to him by his father. Stories that he had thought his father had heard rather than lived firsthand. They detailed Theondar, pushing back an attack by Stinnis. The island nation had sought to claim part of Vatten, coming across the sea by boat, terrorizing the shorelines. Without Roine, the coastal regions of Vatten might have been lost. And then there was the Roke invasion. Roke had long ago been claimed by Chenir, but there was a faction that sought to carve out land of their own, taking from Ter. Without the warriors—without Theondar—they might not have been stopped.
“Why do you think the kingdoms are always under threat of attack, Tannen?” Roine asked gently.
Why couldn’t they find a way to reach a lasting peace, one that didn’t require constant battling? “I don’t know.”
“You do, but you don’t want to admit it to yourself. The kingdoms have always been flush with shapers. More than any other land. Sure, Incendin has fire shapers and Doma has some shapers of their own, but they were never found in the same quantities as the kingdoms.”
“Shaping has become less common even in the kingdoms,” Tan reminded him.
Roine’s face clouded. “Yes, and we still don’t understand why that might be. Having you has been a start. And Althem, even though what he did disgusts me, if even half of these children can learn to shape, then we’re already well on our way to rebuilding the university.” Roine turned back to the map and then made his way down the wall to another.
This showed the lands beyond the kingdoms, with the kingdoms at the center. The map made everything look so small. The kingdoms were there, the separate nations of Vatten, Ter, Nara, and Galen all joined together, but they were small compared to the surrounding lands. Incendin rivaled the kingdoms for size. Chenir, to the north of Incendin, might be small and isolated, but it was nearly the size of Ter. And beyond the sea, the map marked where Par-shon and the Xsa Isles were found, far off the coast of Incendin. Once, that distance would have seemed impossible, but now that Tan knew how to travel by a warrior shaping, it could be traversed in moments.
“You see, we are but a small part of something greater,” Roine said. “All would like the strength our shapers have. Were they able, they would take our shapers, much like Incendin once took Doma shapers, twisting
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