I wanted to hold onto this moment, but given his grandfather’s position, Cinaed couldn’t stay.“Be careful.”
His presence faded, and I missed him the moment I was alone again. If Cinaed was right about danger to his flock, I needed to find a way to keep them safe.
Clearing my mind, I reached out to the one person I knew could help me.
“Bart, I need to see you. It’s important.”
Bart’s office at Utrecht was nothing like anyone would expect from the youngest professor of defensive magic in Utrecht’s centuries-long history. Most of his furniture consisted of pieces he’d rescued from Hollen Hall, which meant they were probably older than me. The décor was tasteful, but felt like the office of an ancient academic, not a thirty-year-old archmage.
Bart was an old soul, but he was a good being. He’d made time for me on a moment’s notice. He smiled and rose from his seat. “Rod!” He swept me into a hug. “I was surprised to get your message.”
Given the minimal contact I’d had with him and the younger generation over the last four decades, his reaction was understandable. “I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t something that might involve the Great Ward. And some of it is personal.”
“You don’t have to explain. I’m always available if you need me.” He ushered me to one of the matching chairs in front of his desk. It brought me back to my university days, sitting in front of one of my professors.
I relayed my conversation with Cinaed and explained my concerns and suspicions. “I’m still worried this could be directed at Ailpein,” I said. “Cinaed, however, is convinced it has nothing to do with his grandfather’s defiance.”
Bart kept silent for a few seconds and then heaved in a deep breath. “Without experiencing the feeling for myself, I can’t be sure what it means. Based on what you’ve shared, I tend to agree with Cinaed. It’s unlikely what he’s feeling is connected to Ailpein’s spell.”
I wanted them both to be wrong, but they were probably right. “Can you find out what it means?”
The look of disapproval on his face answered my question. “It doesn’t work that way. My visions don’t come on demand. Plus, I’ve only seen things for people I know. Cinaed is a stranger to me.”
I slumped in my chair. Of course I knew this, but that didn’t stop the disappointment. “What about when you meet him? Could that trigger a vision?”
“Rod,” he said carefully. “No one knows how prophetic visions work. The Ocular Society has studied this for centuries and they don’t have an explanation. Plus, we don’t know if the source of the dread is centered on Cinaed.”
Hearing how sorry he sounded for not being able to help, I regretted coming to see him. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“Hang on,” he said before I could get up. “I might be able to determine the source of whatever is affecting Cinaed if it happens when we’re there. No promises, but if the Earth is sending a warning, we might be able to figure out what it’s trying to tell us.”
Despite all the qualifications Bart included in his statement, all I heard was he might be able to determine the source. “What do you need to find out?”
“Try not to get your hopes up, Rod,” he said. “The things we don’t know outnumber what we do. Most of these warnings are incredibly hard to understand.”
I realized the chance of success was small, but a slim hope was better than none. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Have you heard when we leave?”
That was another frustration. Diplomacy moved at a snail’s pace, which was why I spent so much time searching the libraries for answers. “No. Dad’s still in negotiations with King Ailpein.”
“What’s there to negotiate?” Bart asked. “We just want to talk to him.”
Like me, Bart didn’t make things complicated. He didn’t engage in subtleties and half-true answers. “Ailpein realizes what we want and doesn’t want to listen. But he wants something from Dad, so they are discussing what each side will agree to give up.”
“So stupid.” Bart’s lips curled down slightly. Rising, he selected a book from his desk. “The king is letting his emotions cloud his judgment. We sent him the proof weeks ago, but facts don’t matter to him if they conflict with what he believes.”
Bart’s description matched Cinaed’s opinion of his grandfather. “Then this trip is a waste of time.”
“Not at all.” He thumbed through the book. “I need to get closer to Ailpein so I can find his magic signature. If I have that, I might be able to help you break his spell.”
Maybe I had Bart wrong. “You’re going to pretend to try to change his mind?”
“No, that part is real.” He spun the book around and handed it to me. “If he’s as stubborn as I’ve been told, I want a backup plan. Study that spell. Once we isolate his magical fingerprint, we might be able to negate its effects on you two.”
I read the passage three times before I realized what he had in mind. Days of searching had been fruitless because I was trying to attack the macro problem. Bart’s idea was to shield the individual from the effects of the broader spell.
“This is amazing,” I said, looking up from the pages. “How did you think of this?”
