“I wouldn’t count on that. I don’t know what the Temple does to make them that way,” Alastor says with a shudder. “But there’s nothing godly about it.”
Phaia drops down from the roof corner, quiet as a cat.
“There’s four on duty, two at each entrance. I think the others are inside. Hyllus?”
Hyllus goes still, listening.
“I hear the civilians, some are asleep, but others are talking.” He waits a few moments, and we let him eavesdrop on the whispered conversation happening behind thick stone walls several yards away.
“They’re saying ‘Don’t wake them.’ I think the rest of the cleaversarein there with them.” He pauses and pulls a face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The prisoners are commenting on the fact that the cleavers sleep with their eyesopen.”
“Well that’s really fucking creepy,” Damia breathes.
I frown, trying to understand why I can’t sense them if they’re asleep. I reach out again, slipping between the frightened minds of the few villagers who’ve managed to fall asleep inside the sanctuary, searching for what I missed before.
There.In between the minds, in the places I’d mistaken for empty ether, there’s a slight change in the texture of the dream realm—something where there should be nothing. It’s hard and dark, like polished marble, and totally impassable.
“You’re right, Hyllus. They’re in there. I feel them, I just can’t get to them.”
“Let me try,” Damia says, closing her eyes. I’ve seen Damia use her sensic power in fights with scary effectiveness. Being able to give people fits of uncontrollable laughter might seem like a benign power, but it incapacitates people quicker than almost anything else. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve watched someone doubled over, cackling, as they bleed out from her blade.
Her brow furrows, and she opens her eyes with a frustrated sigh.
“No, I can’t get through. Their minds are too protected.”
“Is that normal?” Ana asks. “Can people do that?”
“Some Trovians have managed to train up their mental defenses in the past,” I explain. “We saw it during the war. There are ways to guard yourself against sensic magic. But those protections can still be broken. In a group of this size, there’s usually a weak link, or a moment when even a vigilant soldier gets complacent. These cleavers…” I shake my head. “The Temple must’ve sent their strongest soldiers. Their minds are nearly impenetrable.”
“Which means this is no ordinary purge,” Stratton points out. “This specific brand of freak must’ve been chosen on purpose, right?”
My eyes fall on Ana. Her face is pale with worry. I know she’s thinking about her friends and not about herself, but all the concern I feel in that moment is for her. She’s not safe here—I don’t know if she’s safe in any part of Trova, not if the Temple is going to such lengths to hunt her down before they even know she’s a solari.
“So what do we do?” Ana asks.
“We try something else,” Damia says. “Maybe subtlety isn’t the way to go after all.”
Hyllus stiffens, signaling us to stop talking.
“Humans heading toward the sanctuary,” he says. “Eight of them, approaching from the other side.”
“Let’s get a better view,” I say to my soldiers.
Ana is right at my back as I reach up to scale the wall Phaia used as a vantage point before.
“I’m coming too,” she says.
I don’t waste my breath trying to argue. Once I’m on the wall, I reach down to pull her up.
“Stay close,” I say as we crawl up onto the connecting roof, giving us a view of the square and the sanctuary on the east side of it.
“There,” I point at the group of people moving toward the rear entrance of the sanctuary.
She squints. “I think that’s Freya’s dad,” she says. “And there’s her older sister.” Her eyes widen with realization. “Oh no. What are they going to do?”
