herself in the work. It was a painstakingly and brilliantly done labor. Any time Lerouge doubted his translation, he included the original word and noted other choices he had considered.
As the third candle sputtered to the end of the wick, she reached a paragraph he’d starred.
“The prerequisite to using the Blue Eye is a soul’s having previously traversed the boundary between the worlds. Although the Blue Eye makes the divide crossable, a soul must already know the way. The Supreme Judge had his heart stopped long enough for his soul to enter Hell. When revived, he was able to freely come and go through the Blue Eye.” Dying, Arvana now understood, or nearly dying, gave one’s soul the instinctual map to make the transition through the man-made passageway.
Arvana closed the book, with one finger holding her place. It was chance, the circumstance of her birth, which brought her this task, allowed her to use the Blue Eye. She was dead before her father revived her.
The candle flashed extra bright. It was down to a stump. She lit another and reopened the book.
“Once in the spirit world, the Supreme Judge drew his colleagues into Hell by grasping their souls. Before their physical bodies expired, he brought their souls back into the world. Taken this way into and out of Hell, his colleagues were acclimated to the path between the physical and supernatural worlds. Some withstood the journey’s strain and could then use the Blue Eye. They became the Judges, who after receiving their own Blue Eyes, walked the earth to claim millions of souls. Other minds cracked, and they became idiots who the Supreme called his Prophets. Later, he learned to read his followers’ futures and could predict who could become a Judge. He did not reveal his finding to the candidates. Their willingness to risk their sanity was a mark of their dedication.”
Arvana wet her fingers and snuffed the candle. Chane was taken into Hell and it hadn’t broken his mind. The letter was lucid. Keithan said he’d changed, but the change was for the better, not one to lunacy. Did Chane expect her to turn the Blue Eye over to him because he was able to use it? Why had he sent this translation ahead of him? At least he wouldn’t try to take it—he’d promised on his soul that he wouldn’t. She touched the front of her habit. One thing she knew: if he tried to take it, this time she’d leave him to Hell. Captain Degarius was the man to take the Blue Eye. How could he not be? In the dark, she conjured an image of him passing into Hell after a battlefield injury or while in the depths of the lake. If he could use the Blue Eye, Chane must consent to give back Assaea. With the Blue Eye, the captain could threaten to decimate Acadia if the sword wasn’t returned.
She had to test him before Chane’s homecoming.
A DEVIL OF A DIFFERENT SORT
The Citadel
“I want it back,” Degarius said to Fassal as they crossed the Citadel’s central courtyard on the way to their appointment with the king and his cabinet.
“I told you yesterday I don’t have your pipe. You must have mislaid it.”
“My sword.”
Fassal raised a brow at the black velvet wrapped treaty Degarius carried under his arm. “You didn’t write that into it, did you?”
Degarius balked. “Of course not.” The accord was a solid week of labor. He’d never had to write one before, but having sat through the reading of several of his father’s, he knew the style and form. What was tricky was making a sound document. He doggedly wrote and rewrote the terms, rewording any vague passages so nothing was subject to misinterpretation, misapplication, or mischief. The mention of his sword, a supposed mere family heirloom, had no place in the document. Besides, if the king didn’t already know what the sword was, writing it into the accord would make him suspicious of its worth. “But if it can be regained in any way.”
Fassal exhaled sharply. “I’ll buy you a Te-a
As the third candle sputtered to the end of the wick, she reached a paragraph he’d starred.
“The prerequisite to using the Blue Eye is a soul’s having previously traversed the boundary between the worlds. Although the Blue Eye makes the divide crossable, a soul must already know the way. The Supreme Judge had his heart stopped long enough for his soul to enter Hell. When revived, he was able to freely come and go through the Blue Eye.” Dying, Arvana now understood, or nearly dying, gave one’s soul the instinctual map to make the transition through the man-made passageway.
Arvana closed the book, with one finger holding her place. It was chance, the circumstance of her birth, which brought her this task, allowed her to use the Blue Eye. She was dead before her father revived her.
The candle flashed extra bright. It was down to a stump. She lit another and reopened the book.
“Once in the spirit world, the Supreme Judge drew his colleagues into Hell by grasping their souls. Before their physical bodies expired, he brought their souls back into the world. Taken this way into and out of Hell, his colleagues were acclimated to the path between the physical and supernatural worlds. Some withstood the journey’s strain and could then use the Blue Eye. They became the Judges, who after receiving their own Blue Eyes, walked the earth to claim millions of souls. Other minds cracked, and they became idiots who the Supreme called his Prophets. Later, he learned to read his followers’ futures and could predict who could become a Judge. He did not reveal his finding to the candidates. Their willingness to risk their sanity was a mark of their dedication.”
Arvana wet her fingers and snuffed the candle. Chane was taken into Hell and it hadn’t broken his mind. The letter was lucid. Keithan said he’d changed, but the change was for the better, not one to lunacy. Did Chane expect her to turn the Blue Eye over to him because he was able to use it? Why had he sent this translation ahead of him? At least he wouldn’t try to take it—he’d promised on his soul that he wouldn’t. She touched the front of her habit. One thing she knew: if he tried to take it, this time she’d leave him to Hell. Captain Degarius was the man to take the Blue Eye. How could he not be? In the dark, she conjured an image of him passing into Hell after a battlefield injury or while in the depths of the lake. If he could use the Blue Eye, Chane must consent to give back Assaea. With the Blue Eye, the captain could threaten to decimate Acadia if the sword wasn’t returned.
She had to test him before Chane’s homecoming.
A DEVIL OF A DIFFERENT SORT
The Citadel
“I want it back,” Degarius said to Fassal as they crossed the Citadel’s central courtyard on the way to their appointment with the king and his cabinet.
“I told you yesterday I don’t have your pipe. You must have mislaid it.”
“My sword.”
Fassal raised a brow at the black velvet wrapped treaty Degarius carried under his arm. “You didn’t write that into it, did you?”
Degarius balked. “Of course not.” The accord was a solid week of labor. He’d never had to write one before, but having sat through the reading of several of his father’s, he knew the style and form. What was tricky was making a sound document. He doggedly wrote and rewrote the terms, rewording any vague passages so nothing was subject to misinterpretation, misapplication, or mischief. The mention of his sword, a supposed mere family heirloom, had no place in the document. Besides, if the king didn’t already know what the sword was, writing it into the accord would make him suspicious of its worth. “But if it can be regained in any way.”
Fassal exhaled sharply. “I’ll buy you a Te-a
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