Chapter Thirty-Nine - The Warning

  Terraday, 25 Tamihr, Year of Folivor the Restful Sloth, 489 years AWA

  The Crystal Crown and around the island of Takatari

  Kere woke the next morning with the dream still vivid in her mind—more vivid than any normal dream, more concrete than memory. The Harbor Master's star-filled eyes. His words about accusations and currents. The warning that Sondil and Charina would be taken, and that accepting those accusations was somehow necessary.

  She found most of the others already gathered in the common area, their expressions suggesting they'd slept as poorly as she had. Monoffa was curled in a chair, her pupils still dilated from whatever she'd perceived in the vision. Jori stood by the window, staring out at the harbor with unseeing eyes. Even Perx looked unsettled, his weathered face more lined than usual.

  "We all saw the same thing," Neric said without preamble. It wasn't a question.

  "Yes." Kere moved to join them, accepting a cup of kahki tea from Cali with a grateful nod. "Every detail. The Harbor Master, the warnings, all of it."

  "He said someone would try to kidnap Sondil and Charina," Jenna said quietly. "And that we'd be blamed for it."

  "And that we should trust the current when that happens," Jori added. "Not fight the accusations, but let them carry us where we need to go."

  Wenthe's tail lashed with agitation. "That's insane. We're supposed to just accept being accused of kidnapping? Being hunted as criminals?"

  "He said it was part of the path," Cali reminded her gently. "That the accusations weren't a deviation but somehow necessary to stopping the larger threat."

  "The woman who walks in nightmare," Monoffa said dreamily. "The one who thinks she's awakening something benevolent but is actually going to shatter the last protections holding chaos at bay. That's what he said, right?"

  "Yes." Kere set down her tea, her mind working through the implications. "He also said to seek him in the crystals on each island we visit. That we'll find pieces of truth that, assembled, will show us the pattern she's trying to obscure."

  Perx grunted. "So we're caught in the middle of some ancient conflict between a fragmented entity in the wildshard network and a fanatic who misunderstands what she's trying to awaken. Perfect."

  "At least we have warning," Jori pointed out. "We know danger is coming. We can prepare."

  "Can we?" Wenthe challenged. "He didn't tell us when it would happen, or how, or who would do it. Just that it would happen and we should accept being blamed."

  "He told us to remember that the accused isn't always guilty and the accuser isn't always innocent," Cali said. "That's important. He's telling us not to internalize the accusations—to know they're false even when everyone else believes them."

  "That's going to be difficult when we're being hunted," Neric muttered.

  Sondil emerged from his room, looking pale but composed. Charina had returned to the palace proper after the vision, but Sondil had stayed in the guest wing, apparently needing time to process what they'd all experienced.

  "I saw patterns," he said, his voice still carrying a trace of wonder. "Mathematical structures underlying everything. The wildshard network isn't random—it's organized, maintained. But there are errors in the equations. Deliberate distortions." He looked at Kere. "Someone is actively manipulating the network. Changing it in ways that could be catastrophic."

  "The woman the Harbor Master warned us about," Kere said.

  "Presumably." Sondil moved to pour himself tea, his hands not quite steady. "Charina recognized him. She said he was her 'shimmering man'—the entity she's been seeing in dreams since childhood. Different form, same presence."

  "Which means he's been watching over Takatari for a long time," Jori observed. "Guiding Charina through dreams, maintaining the route that brought the first Andovarrans here."

  "And now he's warning us that someone wants to kidnap both of you," Kere said to Sondil. "We need to tell palace security. Captain Merisar should know there's a credible threat."

  "He won't believe us," Sondil said. "Not without proof. And we can't exactly explain that a mystical entity in a dream vision warned us."

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  "We have to try," Cali insisted. "Even if he dismisses it, at least we'll have warned him. That matters."

  Kere nodded. "Agreed. Jori and I will go speak to someone—maybe not Merisar directly, but someone in the security chain. We'll phrase it carefully. Just general concerns about threats, nothing about dream visions."

  "What should the rest of us do?" Neric asked.

  "Stick to the plan," Kere said. "We have fittings this morning at Selina's shop. Then we need to finalize everything for the wedding tomorrow—guard rotations, positions, protocols. The vision told us danger is coming, but it also told us to do our duty. So that's what we do."

  Later that morning, Kere and Jori found a palace guard on duty in one of the main corridors—a middle-aged man with the bearing of someone who'd served for decades. His name was Torim, according to the identification badge he wore, and he listened to their concern with polite but obvious skepticism.

  "We have reason to believe there may be danger to Prince Sondil and Princess Charina during the wedding celebrations," Kere said carefully. "We wanted to report this to someone in palace security."

  "What kind of danger?" Torim asked.

  "We're not certain of the specifics. But we've encountered... concerning signs during our voyage and since arriving on Takatari. We think extra vigilance is warranted."

  "Concerning signs," Torim repeated, his tone suggesting he'd heard this sort of vague warning before. "Can you be more specific?"

  Kere exchanged a glance with Jori. How could they be specific without sounding insane?

  "We encountered unusual wildshard activity during our crossing," Jori offered. "And we've been told that someone may have interest in disrupting the wedding or harming the royal couple."

  "Told by whom?"

  "We can't reveal our source," Kere said. "But we believe the threat is credible."

  Torim studied them for a long moment. "I appreciate your concern for the Prince and Princess," he said finally. "But I assure you, security for the royal wedding is more than adequate. Captain Merisar has been planning these arrangements for months. Every guard will be at their assigned position, every entrance will be monitored, and we have protocols in place for any conceivable threat."

  "We're not suggesting your security is inadequate—" Kere began.

  "Then what are you suggesting?" Torim's tone remained polite but had taken on an edge. "That we change our carefully planned protocols based on vague warnings from foreign visitors who can't provide specifics or sources?"

  Put that way, it did sound unreasonable.

  "We're simply asking for extra vigilance," Jori said. "That's all. Keep your eyes open for anything unusual."

  "We always do," Torim replied. "That's our job." He paused, then added with something like kindness, "I understand that Prince Sondil is your charge, and you're naturally protective. But you're on Takatari now, under the Crystal Crown's protection. The royal family is safe here. You can trust in that."

  The dismissal was clear, though delivered with courtesy. There was nothing more to say.

  "Thank you for your time," Kere said.

  As they walked away, Jori said quietly, "At least we tried."

  "Yes." Kere couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness. They knew danger was coming, but they couldn't stop it, couldn't even warn people effectively. All they could do was prepare and trust that the Harbor Master's guidance—cryptic as it was—would prove sound.

  "He'll remember, though," Jori added. "When something does happen, Torim will remember that we warned him. That we tried to prevent it."

  "You think that will matter? When we're accused of the kidnapping ourselves?"

  "It might. It should." Jori's jaw tightened. "It has to count for something that we attempted to warn them."

  Kere hoped he was right. But the vision's words echoed in her mind: When the accusations fall upon all of you, do not resist the current.

  They weren't meant to prove their innocence immediately. They were meant to run, to follow wherever the accusations carried them, to trust that the path led somewhere necessary.

  It was a terrible thing to know and be unable to change.

  Selina's tailor shop was bustling when they arrived—apparently the approach of a royal wedding meant increased business for everyone in the textile trades. But the cheerful proprietor had set aside time for their group, and she efficiently measured and fitted each companion with their tabard.

  The design had turned out well: sleeveless linen in natural beige, with Sondil's owl-on-shield sigil beautifully embroidered on the chest in navy, scarlet, and gold thread. The craftsmanship was excellent, and the lightweight fabric would be tolerable even in Takatari's tropical heat.

  "These look professional," Perx observed, examining his with an approving eye. "Better than most guard uniforms I've seen."

  "You'll cut quite the figure at the wedding," Selina said with satisfaction. "Distinguished but not ostentatious. Perfect for a protection detail."

  Wenthe, however, was having a more complicated fitting in the back room. Her silk shirt had required considerable work—the angel-wing sleeves alone were a tailoring challenge—and Selina had called in an assistant to help with the final adjustments.

  When Wenthe finally emerged, even Kere had to admit the result was lovely. The golden-yellow silk complemented her orange tabby fur beautifully, and the flowing sleeves created an elegant, bohemian effect that was distinctive without being garish. The owl-on-shield sigil had been embroidered on the chest in a slightly smaller version than on the tabards, but it was clearly visible and properly positioned.

  "It's perfect," Wenthe breathed, admiring herself in Selina's full-length mirror. "This is exactly what I wanted."

  "It suits you," Cali agreed warmly.

  "The silk was an excellent choice for those sleeves," Selina said. "Linen or cotton would have been too stiff. They needed the drape that only silk provides."

  Kere had to acknowledge that was true. The sleeves moved beautifully when Wenthe raised her arms, creating an almost wing-like effect that was genuinely striking.

  "However," Selina continued, "I need to stress that this is meant for formal occasions without armor. If you try to wear armor over those sleeves, you'll damage them beyond repair. And the silk won't hold up to combat conditions."

  "I understand," Wenthe assured her. "I have the regular tabard for when I'm actually guarding Sondil in dangerous situations. This is for ceremonies and receptions."

  "Good." Selina quoted the final price—steep, as Kere had expected, but Wenthe paid without complaint from her Trials of Eight winnings.