Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(47)

“I mean you no harm,” I say. It’s a small relief that the rage has ebbed from my voice, leaving a weary rasp.

His eyes look in my direction, but there’s a thick film over the left one, like the membrane of an egg. With crooked fingers, he reaches out to me. “May I? It’s easier this way.”

I don’t know why I’m so surprised, but I am. He’s a Ventári. It’s common for them to go blind in old age. All of our powers eventually wear on the body in different ways. The magic overpowers the parts of us that make us mortal. Permanent bruises on Illusionári, heart sickness and seizures in Persuári. Robári—I have the Gray and scars, but I am the only one I’ve ever met. Perhaps we lose our memories in old age. Perhaps we become Hollows in the end, too. I doubt I’ll ever find out.

I creep forward and let him touch my temples. His magics burn along my skin, a pressure that builds all the way to the front of my mind. Like someone walking in your skin. Then he lets go with a start.

“You’re a Whisper,” he says, fingers trembling. “We all end up here. All of us.”

“I’m not a Whisper,” I say. “Not anymore.”

He rubs his hands together, trying to keep warm. The tunic he wears is more dirt than cloth, torn at the seams and thin as old parchment. Sun spots mark his pale slender arms. I wonder who he was before he was relegated to this prison.

I take off my jacket and place it over his shoulders. A strange numbness travels across the inside of my mind.

“Renata,” he says, turning his face to the sound of my voice. “I’ve heard of you. Even before I saw your thoughts.”

A cold current runs down my body. I’ve been gone from the palace for eight years. Surely he hasn’t been down here as long as that?

“Who are you?” I ask. “How do you know of me?”

“I worked in the palace before the plague,” he says. A coughing fit racks his frame. He rests a hand on his chest. I watch it rise and fall with what seems like great effort before he can speak again.

“I didn’t know there were Moria in the king’s employ,” I say. This place has a way of twisting minds.

He smiles with black-and-green–stained teeth. “We were on his council once. Before the creation of the Arm of Justice. Back then, Puerto Leones was at war with Empirio Luzou. It was not a war supported by the people. Even those closest to the king could not intervene.”

I have a vague memory of one of the elders saying Luzou has always been the Moria’s greatest ally. But where were they when Riomar fell? I think back to my lessons on Leonesse history.

“The only thing that stopped the fighting was the outbreak of the plague,” I say.

“At least they’ve taught you that.” He sucks in a breath that sounds painful.

“You didn’t leave?”

He shakes his head. “I could not. King Fernando kept me as the Memoria ambassador. I sent the Whispers messages. Up until I was discovered and captured two years ago.” The old man gives a wheezing cough.

“Are you the Magpie?” I ask, thinking of the person who alerted Illan that there was a weapon in existence.

“No.” His voice is gruff. “Illan’s informant is unknown even to me.”

“What did they do to you?”

“I was in Soledad prison for a time.” His bony fingers hover over his shoulder. “When I wouldn’t tell Fernando how to find safe passage through the mountains, I was brought back here. A guard ripped my mark for the Mother of All. Sliced off the skin and then kept digging with his dirty fingers.”

I think of the crescent moon and arc of ten-pointed stars that create the mark of the Mother of All. Elders carry that symbol on their skin when they achieve the highest rank in the Moria orders. I remember Illan’s hopeful face in the tent before he told me Dez’s plan. Does he know that this man is still down here?

Gripping his hand, I ask, “What does Our Lady call you?”

A smile breaks across his wrinkled face and when he blinks, tears fall. “Our Lady hasn’t called me anything for quite some time. But once—I was known as Lozar.”

He turns his face to the side and coughs up mucus and blood.

I’m angry. I am angry at Illan and the Whispers for never telling us of this man. I’m angry at Dez for scheming behind my back while asking me to trust him. I’m angry at the skies, the earth, the sun. I’m angry at existence and this tide for swelling beyond my control.

“It’s all right, Renata.” Lozar’s voice interrupts my rage. I recognize that sensation inside my head. He’s seeing into my thoughts—even in this state his power is strong. I wonder—is that what’s keeping him alive despite the cruelty he’s experienced?

“Was it worth it?” I don’t know what makes me ask this. “You’ve been left here by the Whispers, by Illan—”

“I knew what it would mean to be a spy and remain at court,” Lozar says calmly. “And I’d give my next life to the cause just as readily. As I told the other boy, that time is soon. Now.”

He pulls down the tattered collar of his shirt and reveals a terrible gash. I’ve never seen a cut like that. Even for the justice, this kind of torture is vicious.

“You’re in solitary. What other boy?” I ask.