hand away from Esteban, whose face is twisted in fear. He doesn’t even reach for the flask of aguadulce he always keeps close to chase away the migraines that accompany his magics.
“What is it?” I’m suddenly aware that Dez is by my side, hands soothing, brushing my hair from my clammy temples. Just his hands. The susurration of his voice in my ear. “Ren. What did you see? Is Lucia still alive?”
“Dez, the king—the justice— Somehow— They took it—” I don’t know what I’ve seen. I don’t know how to put words to what Rodrigue went through. The justice was there, and his is a face I was not prepared to see.
“Esteban—Ren—I need you both to speak.”
Margo snatches the paper Esteban was writing on, his letters sloppy, as if he couldn’t keep up with the speed of the memory. Her blue eyes flash wide, moving faster across the words pulled from my mind.
“They’ve figured out how to win this war,” Margo says, and crunches the paper in her fist before smoothing it out again. The notes are meant to be presented to the elders.
“What do you mean?” Sayida asks, taking the parchment from Margo’s shaking hand.
I still hold the alman stone. The light has been snuffed out, turning it into another bit of translucent crystal. Ordinary. Empty. I think of Lucia’s face, so strange, covered with silver veins, so much like the magic whorls that burn across my hands. Then there was the justice himself. It’s been years since I saw him or heard his voice. I want to scream. I want to jump into the river and be carried away. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for what is supposed to come next.
“They can rip out our power,” Sayida says breathlessly. “But how?”
We look to Dez. Each of us sits around the fire, the way we might have when we were children telling stories. Now our monsters are real and we don’t know if we can defeat them. Dez takes the parchment last and reads, then looks to the canopy of trees, the white light of the moon just visible between gaps. He’s worried, yes, but he doesn’t share the surprise the rest of us feel.
“You knew,” I say.
Dez meets my stare. “Yes.”
Margo and Esteban curse under their breath. Sayida presses her lips together, nose flaring. I feel something cold settle into my heart.
“I couldn’t tell you,” he says. “The order came from the elders themselves.”
Margo stands and kicks at the closest pack. Mine, naturally. “You owe us an explanation, Dez. I believed Celeste and Rodrigue had information that could help us. Instead all we know is that our enemies have figured out a way to end us.”
“Yes, the Arm of Justice has created a weapon to rip out our power,” Dez says. “My father learned this four months ago.”
“Four months?” I repeat.
Dez stands and stomps around the fire, unable to keep his nerves hidden. “He heard it from a spy called the Magpie. I don’t know who they are, or if they’re Moria at all. My father never reveals his spies to anyone, not even other elders, for fear of endangering them.”
“How did this Magpie learn of the weapon?” I ask.
“That’s what Lucia was sent to discover,” Dez says, rubbing his hands over his face. His golden stare is distant, and he pulls away from us in a way he’s never done before. “She was caught. Rodrigue left on his own to find her, but we now know what happened. We had hoped to uncover what the weapon was and destroy it. But the fact that it can do more than steal magics . . .” He trails off, almost breathless. “We couldn’t dream up such a cruelty.”
“Where did it come from?” Margo demands, as I ask, “What else can it do?”
“We don’t know how they forged it.” Dez stops pacing, arms crossed over his chest. “That man told Rodrigue that they can find us anywhere we go. It can detect our power. It won’t be safe to travel in numbers.”
“What about the rest of the families we’re to help smuggle across Luzou?” Sayida asks.
“We have to get them there sooner,” he says, slowly regaining his resolve. He meets our eyes again. “We’ve always had to be one step ahead of the justice. That can’t change now.”
Margo faces the fire, flames dancing in her blue stare. “They can rip out our powers. The way you rip out memories.”
We’re all silent. I didn’t want to make the connection,