Light of the Heavens

XII. Running

Masaharta spread his hands expressively. "I have no proof," he said with a shrug. "Nor will I obtain any in the near future, with Userkare barring me from the Ashen Tower and its oracles from my company."

Seben tried to sit tall across the chessboard from him. The firelight flickered low in the study between the different oil lamps, casting flickering shadows that made her already strained nerves even more frayed. She knew Vassa was behind her without having to look, the masked woman's fingertips just brushing against her shoulder. "Why did you look for me, then? If you aren't sure I'm his daughter and you aren't sure I have the Blessing, why are you helping me?"

There was no sign of Masaharta's easy grin now, replaced by a somber expression. "I am Keeper of the Seal. The preservation of the Sunblessed is my sacred duty. I do not know how Userkare is interacting with the powers bestowed by Sol without it, but he is a fool if he thinks he can tamper with divinity and not have it bring down a terrible wrath on all of Ethilir." He cleared his throat before continuing. "I was fully aware that Prince Sanakht had a habit of playing common soldier and venturing into brothels, particularly in Losena. Cleaning up the royal heir's mess was something of my unofficial job description. Plenty of children are born of such encounters."

The young woman furrowed her brow as she considered that. "But you found me in particular."

"Before he was struck down by a poisoned blade, the late prince confided in me that he had learned of a girl that he believed was his child, a commoner who had been taken under a fire-speaker's wing. When I asked him if he had arranged such a thing, he denied it vehemently, but spoke with pride of it. I asked him if he had seen her, and he said yes. One evening in Losena he had neared where she was training with a tame djinn one day and said of her, I knew that spark." Masaharta shrugged. "It was enough to send me to an oracle, who to my mind confirmed it."

"Spark?" Seben asked quietly.

"I don't know how true it is, but some say the Sunblessed can see the potential for another of the blood to carry it. Supposedly that is how legitimate heirs are recognized," their host explained. "I had always assumed it was metaphorical. Regarding Sanakht's heir, the oracle insisted when I argued with him that the next Sunblessed would be a phoenix rising from the ashes, renewal and rebirth rather than a simple continuation."

Vassa was quiet still, considering what all this meant. That sickening feeling she'd experienced in Userkare's presence was still eating away at her peace of mind. It had stirred to life the shadows in her own heart and now, as their claws were subtly sinking in, she found it difficult to focus long on Seben's predicament beyond it. "King Userkare is not manipulating your royal powers on his own," she said finally, breaking the quiet that had descended.

Masaharta steepled his fingers and leaned back slightly, regarding the pair before him. "Oh?"

"This is not some enchanted bauble that one can toy with as a mundane," Vassa said bluntly. "The number of things that can exert influence on the powers of a god are almost nonexistent. It would require ancient and incredible power to deceive the handiwork of Sol."

"Such as?" the nobleman said.

"A Leyan mage with sufficient stolen life-force could perhaps achieve it, though that sheer volume of power required would make that an unsustainable control. More effective would be use of a First World relic," Vassa said. She knew better than to make reference to her own people. It was a box of elemental wickedness she was not willing to unleash on the minds of Ethilir.

"We were suspecting sorcery," Masaharta admitted.

Vassa shook her head. "Magic and sorcery cannot coexist. They will battle for dominance and utterly destroy each other in the process, the victor obliterating even traces of the defeated. Were that the case, there would be a crater of glass where once proud Ethilir stood. What you are looking for is a magic feeding upon your magic, a parasite sucking sustenance and power from it while granting control to its master. It hides itself, masks, conceals, and from that obscurity does its wicked work."