was researching something about me. I want to know what it was.”
She tapped her coffee mug. “Maybe you need to talk to someone about opening that door.”
“I have. She won’t. If I can move past that, I think you can,” I said.
“What do you think he was researching?”
I tapped my forehead. “I know he was interested in the darkness in my head, but I think he knew something about the faith stone.”
“As far as I know, he shared everything he knew about the darkness with me and Gillen Yor. He didn’t have any more answers than we did,” she said.
“After everything that’s happened, you believe that?” I asked.
She sipped her coffee. “I understand your doubts, Connor, but you have to remember that for a long time, we thought we could cure you. I still believe that. Nigel was fully involved with researching your problem. He might not like my methods, but I don’t think either Gillen or I would have missed his hiding something from us. The faith stone is another matter.”
“Brokke told me it had the power to instill faith in people,” I said.
“Brokke was a master of the obvious,” she said.
I shook my head. “Briallen, I’m not interested in competing politics anymore. I just want the truth, whether it comes from the Celts or the Teuts.”
She chuckled. “Don’t confuse people and principles, Connor. Brokke was an arrogant, irritating ass. He knew things that were better shared and let people die when they could have been saved.”
“That’s fair—and beside the point. This thing in my head is powerful. The Elven King died over it. What does it mean?” I asked.
She gazed into her coffee mug. I thought she might be trying to scry off the surface of the liquid. I didn’t feel any of the usual pressure in my head that happened when someone scryed. The dark mass didn’t like my being around the future.
Briallen was considering her response. Based on my experience, she knew something and was trying to decide how little she could get away with sharing—ironic, considering what she had said about Brokke.
She shifted herself on the stool. “Here’s what I think: Donor always struggled with persuading allies that the elves were the victims in the war that led to Convergence. No matter his grievances, he ruled in the authoritarian manner of Alfheim, and the modern world never understood or agreed with that method. He wanted something to help him make his case, and he thought the stone would do it.
“Here’s what I believe: The stone is exactly what he thought it was. It’s the remnant of an older reality, when the righteousness of one’s cause could be demonstrated by having the approval of the Wheel of the World. The stone gave credibility to the one who held it.”
I smirked. “Well, that part’s not working anymore.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve been accused of terrorism by both the Guild and the Consortium, yet neither of them has arrested you. How much is that due to politics and how much to the power in your head?”
“You know I don’t believe the Wheel of the World cares that much about me, or anyone else, for that matter,” I said.
She eyed me with the stern manner of a teacher. “That’s a mistake I’ve tried to correct in you for as long as we’ve known each other, Connor. You’re right. The Wheel of the World doesn’t care about individuals, but it does work through individuals to accomplish Its purposes.”
“So what do you think Its purpose is with me?” I asked.
She lifted her shoulders in a slow shrug. “Maybe exactly what’s happening—the Guild and the Consortium are on the brink of war. If the faith stone is with you instead of someone like Donor and Maeve, maybe that keeps war from breaking out. It creates doubt on both sides about the success of their respective causes.”
“Is that why you gave me the dagger?” I asked.
She seemed startled by the question though why I wasn’t sure. “I gave you the dagger to protect
She tapped her coffee mug. “Maybe you need to talk to someone about opening that door.”
“I have. She won’t. If I can move past that, I think you can,” I said.
“What do you think he was researching?”
I tapped my forehead. “I know he was interested in the darkness in my head, but I think he knew something about the faith stone.”
“As far as I know, he shared everything he knew about the darkness with me and Gillen Yor. He didn’t have any more answers than we did,” she said.
“After everything that’s happened, you believe that?” I asked.
She sipped her coffee. “I understand your doubts, Connor, but you have to remember that for a long time, we thought we could cure you. I still believe that. Nigel was fully involved with researching your problem. He might not like my methods, but I don’t think either Gillen or I would have missed his hiding something from us. The faith stone is another matter.”
“Brokke told me it had the power to instill faith in people,” I said.
“Brokke was a master of the obvious,” she said.
I shook my head. “Briallen, I’m not interested in competing politics anymore. I just want the truth, whether it comes from the Celts or the Teuts.”
She chuckled. “Don’t confuse people and principles, Connor. Brokke was an arrogant, irritating ass. He knew things that were better shared and let people die when they could have been saved.”
“That’s fair—and beside the point. This thing in my head is powerful. The Elven King died over it. What does it mean?” I asked.
She gazed into her coffee mug. I thought she might be trying to scry off the surface of the liquid. I didn’t feel any of the usual pressure in my head that happened when someone scryed. The dark mass didn’t like my being around the future.
Briallen was considering her response. Based on my experience, she knew something and was trying to decide how little she could get away with sharing—ironic, considering what she had said about Brokke.
She shifted herself on the stool. “Here’s what I think: Donor always struggled with persuading allies that the elves were the victims in the war that led to Convergence. No matter his grievances, he ruled in the authoritarian manner of Alfheim, and the modern world never understood or agreed with that method. He wanted something to help him make his case, and he thought the stone would do it.
“Here’s what I believe: The stone is exactly what he thought it was. It’s the remnant of an older reality, when the righteousness of one’s cause could be demonstrated by having the approval of the Wheel of the World. The stone gave credibility to the one who held it.”
I smirked. “Well, that part’s not working anymore.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve been accused of terrorism by both the Guild and the Consortium, yet neither of them has arrested you. How much is that due to politics and how much to the power in your head?”
“You know I don’t believe the Wheel of the World cares that much about me, or anyone else, for that matter,” I said.
She eyed me with the stern manner of a teacher. “That’s a mistake I’ve tried to correct in you for as long as we’ve known each other, Connor. You’re right. The Wheel of the World doesn’t care about individuals, but it does work through individuals to accomplish Its purposes.”
“So what do you think Its purpose is with me?” I asked.
She lifted her shoulders in a slow shrug. “Maybe exactly what’s happening—the Guild and the Consortium are on the brink of war. If the faith stone is with you instead of someone like Donor and Maeve, maybe that keeps war from breaking out. It creates doubt on both sides about the success of their respective causes.”
“Is that why you gave me the dagger?” I asked.
She seemed startled by the question though why I wasn’t sure. “I gave you the dagger to protect
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