Eon: Dragoneye Reborn

CHAPTER 15

Early on the twelfth day of the New Year — my eighth day of mourning — Lady Dela and I sat in the gloom of my shuttered reception room and waited for the palace herald in front of us to rise from his deep bow and deliver his message.

'Lord Eon,' the man finally said. 'His Highness Prince Kygo approaches on behalf of his most glorious father.'

He offered me a slip of parchment with the Imperial seal. A line of poetry was written under the heavy wax imprint of the royal dragon.

Wives endlessly returning to the shore, bringing renewal and the ghosts of waves before.

Lady Dela studied the paper. 'It's from one of Lady jila's Spring poems,' she whispered. 'His Highness returns the Mirror Dragon treasures to you. Acknowledge the honour of the visit.'

I looked down at the kneeling herald and felt strangely buoyed by the prospect of seeing the Prince. 'Thank His Royal Highness for this great condescension. We await his arrival with joy.'

The herald bowed out of the room.

'I do not think the Emperor would miss this ceremony easily,' Lady Dela said, a small fold of worry between her brows. 'He must still be too ill to leave his bed.' She twitched her shoulders as if rejecting the silent understanding that crouched in the palace: the Emperor was in his last days. 'Call Rilla to prepare for the Prince.'

Under my heavy white sleeve, the red folio shifted, the pearls whispering along my skin.

Perhaps it sensed the arrival of the other treasures. As I sounded the small gong, a trill of laughter and music from a nearby courtyard made us both turn towards the closed doors. The Twelfth Day feasts and celebrations were starting.

'Happy Twelfth Day,' I said to Lady Dela. 'May the year bring you fivefold happiness.'

'Thank you, Lord Eon. And for you too.'

I nodded. Happiness seemed a long way away.

The Peony household had just assembled in the garden courtyard when one of Ryko's guards called the Prince's arrival. I kneeled on a small cushion that Rilla had positioned for me by the path and kowtowed until my forehead skimmed the ground. The boots of the royal guards passed by, and then the soft slippers of the protocol officers. My deep bow was straining my hip into aching weakness. If the Prince did not arrive soon, I would not be able to rise without assistance. Finally, the dusty sandalled feet of the royal litter-bearers approached and stopped in front of me.

'Lord Eon,' the Prince said.

I stiffly pushed myself back onto my heels. The wound to his face was healing well, the bruise fading into dull browns and yellows. He was wearing his official robes — purple silk — and a smaller version of the Imperial pearl on a chain around his neck. An Emperor in waiting.

Behind him, a small pack of courtiers watched us, followed by a double line of servants carrying boxes, brass burners and heavy chests. A cart pulled by four men, with the bureau and carved stools tied to it, brought up the rear.

'Your Highness, thank you for honouring me with this visit.' I smiled, then caught an admonishing glare from a prim-mouthed protocol officer. A smile, it seemed, was inappropriate for the occasion.

'It is my honour to return the Mirror Dragon treasures to you,' the Prince said. 'My father sends his gracious greetings.'

I kowtowed.

'Down,' the Prince ordered the bearers. They promptly lowered the litter, and a waiting servant handed the Prince out. Another kneeled and held up a richly embroidered red pouch.

The Prince took it then bowed to me.

'Lord Eon, for generations my royal forebears have kept the Mirror Dragon treasures safe, waiting for the day when the noble dragon would once again grace the Circle, and a Mirror Dragoneye rejoin the Council. It is my glorious honour to return the treasures that are rightfully yours.'

He held out the pouch. I took it with another deep bow. It was heavy and for a moment I was at a loss as to what was inside. Then its circular shape settled in my hand: the Dragoneye compass. As soon as I recognised it, the folio pearls tightened around my arm. Did they recognise it too? I swept my fingers across the book. The pearls eased their grip, leaving a bruised phantom of their stranglehold.

As was protocol, the Prince entered the Peony apartment and took a bowl of tea with me and Lady Dela. Our conversation was strictly monitored by the dour-faced officials and limited to polite wishes for the New Year and comments about the monsoon predictions. There was a sadness in the Prince's eyes that mirrored my own, but I had no opportunity to offer him the gentle friendship that he had shown me at my master's entombment. The protocol officers were watching us too closely

with their sharp eyes and soft-voiced instructions — the Prince's every move was now governed by tradition and ritual.

Before the half bell rang, the officers quietly signalled the end of the visit. We all kneeled along the pathway again as the Prince was ushered back into his litter, and by the time the bell tolled, the royal entourage was making its slow way towards the royal apartments. I watched its progress, hoping he would look back. The litter was almost through the archway before he turned and raised his hand. I raised my own, but then the protocol officer at his side called him to order.

'So, he is taking on his father's duties,' Lady Dela said, gracefully standing and dusting down her white gown. 'We will be mourning again before long.' She shaded her eyes and looked over at the archway. 'Mourning for the father and fighting for the son.'

'Are you a soothsayer now?' I snapped.

She looked at me, her eyebrows raised. 'Some say so, my lord. But my skill is in reading people not sticks or coins.'

Rilla came bustling towards us. 'My lord, where do you want the treasures stored?'

The line of servants was still waiting to move the furniture and boxes into the apartment.

'Lady Dela will decide,' I said, suddenly wanting to be alone. 'Just bring the red pouch the Prince gave me to the reception room.'

Rilla duly delivered the pouch to me then softly closed the door on the noisy tramp of servants and Lady Dela's sharp directions. I sat in the cool quiet of the reception room, overwhelmed by a sense of excitement.

The compass slid easily out of the pouch and hit my palm with a satisfying weight. I ran my finger over the smooth facets of the round-cut ruby in the centre. It was the size of a thrush egg — worth a small fortune. The pearls suddenly rattled down my arm and out of the end of my sleeve, pulling the folio behind

them into my lap. Gingerly, I poked at the book. Obviously, there was a connection between folio and compass, but what was it? Perhaps they belonged together. I waved the gold disc near the book. Nothing happened. What if the compass was touching it? I pressed metal against leather. Not even a twitch from the pearls. Maybe the compass rearranged the characters into sense. Holding my breath, I flicked the book open to a page and dragged the compass across it. The writing was still incomprehensible.

Frustrated, I stared down at the page then at the etched figures on the compass. My eyes suddenly focused on one character. Hadn't I just seen it in the book? I ran my finger across and compared them. Yes, they were the same. I turned the compass around. One of the other characters was repeated on the page too. They had the same writing. I laughed, jubilation pushing me off the low chair into a clumsy Rat Dragon Second, the pearls swinging out like a victory banner.

Then I stopped. Where did the information get me? I still couldn't read the folio. Or the compass. There was no way to break the code. I chewed my lip. The characters were on both compass and folio — it must be a special Dragoneye writing. Did that mean another lord would be able to read it and teach me the meanings? It made sense. But there was only one Dragoneye I trusted now — Lord Tyron — and he refused to see me until the end of my mourning. A wave of disappointment dropped me back onto the chair. He would not even accept my messenger. The first chance I'd have to show him the compass would be in the carriage on our way to Daikiko Province. Would that give me enough time to decipher the folio before the test? It seemed unlikely. My dragon's name felt as far away from me as ever.

I sat back, slowly combing each page of the folio for matches to the compass. There were quite a few but it was an empty success — I did not understand what I was looking at. The futile

study was finally interrupted by Rilla announcing two officials from the Department of Earthly Bequeathals. Quickly, I slid the compass back into the pouch and pushed the folio up my sleeve. The pearls slithered up my arm behind it and wrapped the book tightly against my forearm just as the two men entered the room. Both of them had an air of suppressed irritation, the fatter one's sourness puckering his wet lips into a pout. No doubt it was the increasingly loud sounds of music and laughter from outside that was causing their bad temper; their duty was making them miss the Twelfth Day celebrations.

I motioned for them to rise from their low bows.

'Lord Eon, it is the Day of Inheritance,' the fat one said, 'and we bring to you Proxy Lord Brannon's witnessed bequeathal scroll.' He bent double and offered a slim roll of parchment sealed with wax and tied with a silk cord.

I took it, unsure if I was expected to read it in their presence. They both looked at me, the thinner man eyeing me with barely concealed impatience.

'We are at your service if you have any questions, my lord,' he said pointedly.

I quickly pulled apart the knot and broke the seal, spreading the scroll open. The bequeathal was short: everything that Lord Brannon had still owned at the time of his death — the house, surrounding estate and bond servants — was now mine.

I stared at the words, trying to take in their meaning. I was a landowner. The Moon Garden, my master's library, the kitchen, the courtyard. All mine. It was all mine. I read through it again, my understanding finally catching up with my racing mind. Not only did I own the house and land, I owned all of the remaining bond servants. I owned Rilla and Chart. And Kuno. Then I couldn't help a low laugh: I owned Irsa.

'When was this drawn up?' I asked.

'The date is on the bottom of the parchment, my lord,' the fat one said.

The last Year of the Dog. My master had made me his heir two years ago, before I had even started training for the ceremony. Why had he bequeathed it all to me?

'Do I own the property now?' I asked. 'Or must I wait?'

The thin man passed a knowing look across to his colleague. See, it seemed to say, they are all greedy.

'From this day, you own all that is set out in the scroll, my lord,' he said.

A surge of exhilaration thrummed through my body. I had land. And with land came another kind of power: money. For a moment, I felt as if all my fear had been lifted. Then I saw the truth — even this great piece of good fortune was not enough to help me. Money would not find my dragon's power. This day was turning into a series of raised hopes and harsh realities.

I looked down at the bold calligraphy again. The land would be of little use to my survival, but it might save Rilla and Chart. The wild promise I had made to Rilla to keep them both safe had been another weight upon me. Perhaps I now had the means to honour it.

'Then this property is mine to do with as I wish?' I said.

'Yes, my lord. And we often advise beneficiaries to consider their own inevitable journey to the spirit world and draw up a bequeathal as soon as possible.' The thin official smiled professionally. 'For a small fee.'

I looked at him over the top of the scroll, energised by my new purpose.

'That is good counsel,' I said, rolling up the parchment. And I will act on it today. But first there are some things I must consider. Stay here until I return.'

'Today?' the thin man said faintly. He looked at the shuttered window. The staccato crack and pop of fireworks sounded from outside, then shouts of pleasure. Twelfth Day was well underway.

I crossed to the door. 'That is what I said.'

They both bowed, the fat official's cheeks puffing with

petulance. No doubt he was imagining all of the free feast food disappearing from his grasp.

Rilla sat opposite me in the heavily curtained litter, her usual calm grace replaced by stiff excitement. She had a basket of food on her lap — leftover delicacies from my table that she had collected for Chart — and her hands clasped the handle so tightly that I could see the shape of her knuckles through the whitened skin. She had not seen her son since we had moved into the palace, and I knew she was worried about his condition. I allowed myself a small smile of delight; she would not need to worry about his welfare much longer. The brief moment of pleasure was like a deep breath. It was such a relief to feel something other than relentless grief and fear.

I had ordered the bearer team to arrive just after daybreak before the Twelfth Day revellers woke and staggered into the streets. I was not supposed to be out in public yet — it was the ninth and last day of mourning — but early tomorrow we would be starting the journey to the Daikiko Province. If I had waited for the official end of mourning, there would not have been time to put my plan into place. And something deep in me knew that it had to be done as soon as possible.

'My lord, thank you for letting me visit Chart,' Rilla said again. She ducked her head, trying to see out of the gap in the curtains. A sudden smile eased the tense lines on her face. 'I think we are nearly home.'

I parted the curtain and saw the stone lions that stood guard at the front entrance of my master's estate. My breath caught: it was now the entrance of my estate. The call had gone up announcing my arrival and the six house staff, led by Irsa, hurried out of the side entrance.

They all wore a small piece of red cloth pinned to the left sleeve of their work tunics. The symbol of mourning. By the time the litter stopped in front of the resting stones, they had lined up along the pathway, demurely waiting to

greet their new master. Chart, of course, was not present. He would be waiting for us in the kitchen.

I heard Ryko order the guard detail to their positions around the estate. Then Rilla parted the curtains and stepped down, turning to hand me out of the palanquin. She was taking care to move in her usual dignified manner, but the tension in her grip gave away her impatience. I stepped down and, as soon as my feet touched the ground, all of the staff dropped to their knees and bowed. A surge of fierce exhilaration caught me by surprise. I cleared my throat and walked past them, noting Irsa's nervous fidgeting and Gardener Lon's thick grimy neck.

Then Rilla opened the double front door and bowed, and for the first time in my life I stepped over its threshold and entered my own house.

The foyer was empty of any furnishings except for a well-kept carpet that muffled our footsteps. I breathed in the familiar smell of brazier smoke, broth, washing herbs and polish.

The scent of my home. Of my master. Grief spiked through me and I stopped at the top of the hallway, lost in its pain.

'My lord, may I go to Chart?' Rilla asked.

'Of course.'

She started towards the kitchen annexe.

'Wait,' I said. 'I will speak to everyone in the central courtyard in a few minutes. Make sure they are all there. Including Chart.'

Surprise furrowed her brow for a moment, then she nodded and hurried to her son.

I was alone in the hallway On my left was the door to the formal reception room, one of the areas in the house I had never been allowed to enter. I opened the double doors. My master had favoured the traditional style for the room and it had the same low table, hard cushions and woven floor as the formal room in the Peony apartment. I pulled the doors shut, my attention already on another forbidden room. My master's bedchamber.

It was at the far end of the passageway, opposite the library. I stood before the door for a moment, overwhelmed by a sense of

intrusion, then twisted the brass dragon ring handle. The latch lifted with a soft scrape and the door swung open.

The shutters were open and the morning light emphasised the room's drab austerity. It was almost as starkly furnished as my old storeroom dormitory at the back of the house: there was a wooden bed, a clothes press and a brazier; that was all. I knew there had once been rich furnishings — the maids had spoken of a carpet so thick it had to be brushed every day, and a painted screen by a famous artist — but my master had sold them over the last few years. I walked across the bare floor to the bed. The bleached linen was fresh. Probably for me. It was an unsettling thought. A cotton blanket faded to the colour of sand had been carefully folded across the end. Had he slept under it? I looked back at the doorway — it was empty — then leaned down and smelled the cloth. Clean and sunned, but no scent of my master.

Amid all the muted practicality, a bright colour caught my eye — a red lacquer box on a small table, initially hidden from sight. The only vivid thing in the room. I skirted around the bed and stooped to study the finely made piece. It was trimmed in gold with a jade double-happiness character pressed into the lid. Probably worth a lot of money. Yet my master had not sold it. Did it mean something to him?

I picked it up, the weight giving no clue. Perhaps it was the last of his wealth. I ran my fingertip around the edge and found the small curved leverage. With a flick of my nail, the lid shifted then came away.

For a moment, the small object inside made no sense. It was too far from its place in the world. Then, as if my body understood before my mind, a ragged breath broke out of me.

My needle tube.

He must have found it hidden in my old clothes press. Why was it in this box? Kept like a precious jewel?

The answer was as stark as the room.

Because it was mine.

He had loved me. Wanted me. The knowledge of it rose from the same dark place where Eona lived. I had always known it. Always pushed it down into the deepest part of me. What else could I have done? What else could he have done?

1 laid my fingertip on the polished bamboo case, stroking the smooth wood. Such a plain everyday thing, but so treasured; first as a precious gift from a dying woman, and then as a secret keepsake for a dying man.

I sensed someone behind me and turned. Rilla was standing in the doorway.

'The household is assembled, my lord,' she said. Then she saw my face. 'What is wrong?'

'Nothing.' I slid the lid back and snapped it home. 'I will be there in a minute. Leave me.'

She bowed and withdrew. I placed the box back on the table and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, pushing back the sadness. Some things were best left denied.

I took the long passage that led from the main house to the kitchen. It gave me time to harden myself back into Lord Eon and prepare my words for the staff. I had not had a lot of time to make my arrangements, but at least the fundamentals were in place. I touched the thin metal tokens in my pocket. I couldn't wait to see Chart's face when I brought them out.

A few steps away from the doorway to the courtyard, I heard Irsa announce my approach. The household was already kneeling on the hard flagstones when I made my entrance. How many times had I listened for Rilla's call, or Irsa's? Always ready to drop to the ground at my master's arrival. Now I only kneeled for royalty.

Even Chart was bowing. Gardener Lon had propped him against his sturdy shoulder, and had one hand hovering protectively over the boy's back. Lon had always been a generous man. I saw the strain in Chart's neck as he fought to

stay in position, the weaving motion of his head revealing the corners of a wide grin. He, at least, was happy to see me. Irsa was stealing quick glances up at me, her lip caught between her teeth. No doubt worried that her bullying was about to snap back and strike her like a snake. It was tempting to make her pay for all those kicks and slights and petty betrayals, but I had already decided against it. There was a saying that a man's true character was revealed in defeat. I thought it was also revealed in victory.

The yard seemed smaller and shabbier than I remembered, but the same cat was still watching me from its sunning spot near my old dormitory door. I cleared my throat and everyone settled back onto their heels, waiting for me to speak. The silent deference suddenly blocked my words. All of my rehearsed speech was gone.

A movement jerked me out of my panic — Chart, flinging out a hand. He smiled and carefully scrunched one eye into a slow wink. My words returned.

'Lord Brannon, may his spirit dwell in the Garden of Heavenly Delight, has bequeathed this estate and all your service bonds to me,' I said, forcing my voice into an even tone.

There was no surprise on anyone's face — news travelled fast in the servants' quarters.

'I will be keeping this property and household as it is, except for a few changes.'

Irsa shrank back, probably expecting the slave market, but my attention was on Chart. It was not often I got to be the bearer of good fortune.

I held up the two liberation discs: brass pendants stamped with the freedom edict and the Imperial seal, hanging from thin leather thongs.

'Firstly, I free Chart and Rilla from their service bonds.'

Chart stared up at me, his body stilled by shock. Only his mouth was working, like one of the Emperor's giant carp. Beside

me Rilia gasped. It had not been easy to rush through the bureaucracy to free them, but I had quickly discovered that gold bought efficiency. It had been worth spending most of the mourning money to see the joy in their faces. I grinned at him. The best was still to come.

'And I name Freeman Chart as my heir to this estate.'

Chart pitched forwards, only saved from hitting the flags by the quick reflexes of Lon. I covered the short distance between us and dropped to my knees. Rilla squatted beside me a moment later, cupping her son's cheek.

'Are you all right?' I asked. He was lying cradled in Lon's arms.

'He's fine,' Rilla said, nodding her thanks to Lon.

Chart's thin hand closed around my wrist. 'Free?'

I nodded. And heir.'

'My lord.' Rilla grabbed my other hand and kissed it. 'Thank you, my lord. It is a wonderful thing you have done.'

'Heir?' Chart echoed. 'You…make me…heir?'

'Yes. You'll be head of the household while I'm at the palace. You'll have your own room and everything.'

Tears were mixing with the grime on his face, leaving pale tracks. 'Head…of house?'

I turned to the other staff. 'Do you hear? Chart is now heir of my house. His word is my word.'

I directed the last to Irsa, staring down her horrified disgust. 'Do you hear?'

She ducked her head, her mouth a tight line. 'Yes, my lord.'

I glared at the rest of the staff and they quickly bowed, echoing her obedience.

Chart's grip on my wrist became a stranglehold. 'How…can I…be…head of house?' he whispered, his face stricken.

Was he afraid? I had been so caught up in my plans that I had not even considered the possibility. 'It's all right,' I said. 'I'll get you a body servant. He can be your arms and legs.'

Chart shook his head. 'I…don't know…read or write. Or…anything.'

Rilla stroked her son's hair. 'You can learn,' she said firmly 'You've got a good mind.' She smiled across at me. 'Lord Eon has given us a great gift.'

Lon suddenly leaned towards me in a shallow bow. 'My lord, may I speak?'

'Yes. What is it?'

'May I offer myself as Master Chart's body servant, my lord? I am strong and I know the letters. I could start his learning.'

Lon could read and write? I had no idea. In fact, I didn't know much about him at all. I considered the man in front of me. He had always been friendly to Chart, unfazed by his deformity And he had ambition — the move from outside to indoor servant would be a big step up in rank and bond pay He'd be eager to do well. It could be a good solution. I met Chart's gaze, silently asking the question.

Chart slowly nodded.

'Rilla?' I asked.

She looked Lon up and down. 'I know you are strong and a good worker. But are you a kind man, Lon? Does another's weakness bring out the best or worst in you?

Chart rolled his eyes. 'Moth…er.'

Lon smiled down at him. 'Your mother is looking after your interests.' He bobbed a quick salute to Rilla. 'Freewoman,' he said, and she flushed at the new title, 'I would be bound by my honour as much as by my bond to treat your son with respect.'

'Fancy words,' she said brusquely, but her mouth had curved upwards. She turned to me and nodded. All right.'

'It is settled then,' I said.

The liberation discs were still in my hand. I hurriedly separated them out, untangling the leather thongs. 'Here is your freedom, Rilla,' I said, but as I passed her the token, a sudden realisation stopped my hand. Rilla was no longer bound to me. She could leave. Then a darker knowledge whispered its truth: she was the only person alive who knew my secret.

'Rilla…' I faltered, unable to voice my fear — it would seem as if I distrusted her.

The disc dangled between us. For a brief moment, our gazes met and I saw the quick understanding in her eyes. She gathered the disc and thong into her cupped palm.

'Honour is not limited to men, my lord,' she said softly 'I will always be with you.'

I nodded, ashamed of my doubt, and held out Chart's disc.

'Your freedom, Chart.'

He eyed it hungrily. 'Put…on me?'

I slipped it over his head, arranging the pendant against the patched cloth of his tunic. I would need to order new clothes for him. He clutched at the disc and held it tightly against his chest as though it might disappear. 'Thank…you.'

'Come, we'll celebrate in the library' I said. 'Rilla, will you direct the maids to bring wine?

And they should also prepare a room for the new heir.'

Below me, Chart giggled.

'Of course,' Rilla said. All her grace was back in force, but I had a feeling Irsa and the other maids were about to feel a mother's revenge. With a sharp clap of her hands, she ordered the staff to their duties.

Lon stood effortlessly with Chart in his arms and followed me across the courtyard to the house. I cast a quick look back at them as we walked through the cool corridor. Lon was listening to his new master's excited commentary. It seemed he had the knack of picking out the words in the strangled sounds. Or perhaps it was just that, unlike Irsa, he was listening for sense rather than nonsense.

I walked into the library, unprepared for the ghosts of my master still lingering there: the last scroll he had been studying was stretched across the desk, a pen lay on a half-finished letter, and the smell of the herbs he burned for concentration scented the air. The familiar ache of grief, kept at bay by the joy of freeing

my friends, swelled through me. 1 shut the door, steadying myself against its solid support, and motioned Eon to the visitor chair. He carefully settled Chart on the seal.

'Thank you, Lon,' I said, forcing myself lo walk lo my master's desk. But I couldn't sit behind it. Not yet. 'Fine! Rilla and she'll tell you what you need to do. Then ask her to join us in the library'

Lon bowed. 'Yes, my lord. Thank you.' He turned to Chart and bowed again. 'Thank you, Master.'

Chart's eyes widened at the unaccustomed obeisance.

I waited until Lon had closed the door then said, 'It's strange having people bow to you, hey?'

Chart clapped his hand to his forehead. 'Makes…my head…hurt.' He grinned up at me.

'You…used to…it?'

I shook my head. 'I haven't got used to anything.'

His hand found the liberation disc on his chest. 'Hard to…be…free sometimes?'

I stared at him. Everything had happened so fast that it had never occurred to me that I was free. But of course I was — I was a lord. Strange, then, that I did not feel any sense of freedom.

'Thank you,' Chart said seriously, holding up the disc. 'Means so much…to Mother. And to…me.' He took a deep breath. 'Master told me…to tell you…something…' He stopped, swallowing convulsively, '…when…he died.'

'Tell me what?' I squatted down awkwardly beside him. Had the master told Chart that he loved me? Did Chart know what I really was? If he did know the truth, he had kept his counsel well.

'He used…to…come to kitchen…at night…when he…couldn't sleep…to talk to me. Needed to…talk to…someone.' He licked his lips, preparing for another long sentence. 'He was…sorry Thought…it…was for the…best. But sorry…for hurting you…so bad. Thought…he had…killed…you.'

'Killed me? What do you mean?'

'When he…had your…hip broken. You nearly…died. Don't…you remember?'

'I lad my hip broken?'

What was Chart talking about? It was an accident. I was hit by a horse and cart. Run down in a street soon after my master had taken me from the salt farm.

Something deep and denied held me still. Dim images were slowly sharpening into an awful truth. There had been no horse and cart. No accident. I felt a terrible certainty building inside me. The memory of a bitter taste and heavy limbs, a big man with a tattoo across his face and a hammer in his hand. And pain. So much pain.

'Why?' I croaked. 'Why?' I grabbed Chart's arm. 'Did he tell you why?'

Chart cowered back into the chair. 'No.'

But I knew why. He crippled me to hide Eona. He had made me untouchable. To make money. To get power. His betrayal crashed through me like the hammer smashing my bones.

He took away my body My wholeness. I tried to stand, but all my strength was surging into another place. Into rage. My hip throbbed with old agony. I fell onto my hands and knees, crawling away from Chart, away from the pain.

'I…thought…you knew.'

'Knew?' I screamed.

Chart's terror registered somewhere in me, but it was too small against my fury My head hit the edge of a shelf and I pulled myself upright. In front of me were his scrolls. His precious scrolls. All lovingly stacked.

I pulled a box out of its slot and threw it at the wall. The crack of splitting wood and slithering parchment shrieked through my blood. The second box hit the desk, skittering pens and ink blocks onto the floor. One after the other, I flung the boxes at the back walls. The clattering crash drove me along the shelves, throwing faster and faster, the noise stoking the rage inside me. Chart cowered in the chair, whimpering. I heard the door snap open.

'Lord Eon!'

¦ '

I turned, panting, my arm raised to throw

Rilla was standing in the doorway holding a tray of wine cups, her eyes wide with shock.

'What arc you doing?'

Couldn't she sec? I was destroying him. 1 was hurting him.

But he was already dead.

I let go of the box in my hand. It hit the floor, smashing open, the parchment uncurling in a hiss of release. Through a blur of tears, I saw Rilla come towards me. And then, for the first time since my master's death, I felt all my sorrow and rage roll into a racking sob.