Will exchanged glances with Violet. Their agreement to follow the Elder Steward was unspoken. Soundlessly they slipped out from behind the cart, waited until the way was clear, then followed the others.
The High Janissary’s office was deep in the Hall. Glimpsing it through a sliver in the door, Will saw that it was filled with books, even the desk strewn with manuscripts and scrolls. Jannick’s role as High Janissary meant that he oversaw all the work that the janissaries did in the Hall, and that included its scholarly aspect, the teaching of history, the keeping of records. Through the crack in the door, Will could hear the low voices.
‘This the first time that James has taken on a squadron,’ Justice was saying. ‘Last year he could not have won that fight. He gets stronger with every day … He is coming into his true power. And he knows it. He goaded us into that battle, confident he could win.’
A woman’s voice that might have been Leda’s answered, but Will couldn’t quite hear what she said. He glanced at Violet and the two of them moved closer to the door.
‘Every year, there are fewer of Steward blood born to the Hall,’ said Justice, ‘and fewer still of Steward blood Called here from outside. We have so few novitiates, and of those barely a handful strong enough to drink from the Cup and become Stewards. Cyprian, yes. Beatrix – Emery, perhaps. But the others—’
Jannick frowned. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Soon there may not be enough of us left to fight.’
‘That is Simon’s intention?’ said Jannick. ‘To pick us off one by one?’
‘Clearing the way for his master,’ said the Elder Steward.
There was an awful silence as her words sank into all of them, and Will could almost feel the tension rise in its wake.
‘Are there no janissaries who have the strength to drink from the Cup?’ Leda’s voice. ‘Many who wear the blue yearn to take the white.’
‘If I was strong enough to drink from the Cup, I would be a Steward already,’ said Jannick. ‘But I’m not. I cannot drink, and nor can any of weaker blood. It is too dangerous.’
‘There is still the boy,’ said the Elder Steward.
‘The boy! He is nothing, shows no sign of any talent. No spark of power. The line of the Lady died with his mother.’
‘Perhaps it’s time to tell the others,’ said Justice. ‘The truth. About Marcus. About Simon’s plans. The novitiates and the janissaries deserve that much warning—’
‘And break our sacred oath?’
‘If the others knew what was really happening—’
‘If they knew, there would be panic, chaos. And then how would we—’
Jannick broke off. Will felt a prickle of unease.
‘Did you lock the door?’ Jannick said.
‘I thought so,’ said Leda.
‘Go,’ mouthed Will, and he and Violet were pushing and pulling each other to get quickly out of sight. They ended up huddled behind a column, having turned several corners until they were deep in the Hall.
Staying silent though they were breathing hard from the run, they waited for footsteps to recede.
‘It’s worse than they’ve told us,’ said Will, when they knew they were alone. ‘Simon’s getting stronger and they don’t have a way to stop him.’ Not even me, he thought, and the words seemed to hang in the air even though he didn’t say them.
‘Will—’ she began.
‘The High Janissary is right,’ said Will. ‘I can’t use magic. In all this time I’ve never lit the Tree or moved the flame.’
‘You stopped the sword on Simon’s ship. I saw it.’
‘The Stewards are fighting for their lives,’ said Will. ‘They think I can help them. But what if I’m not – what if I can’t—’
‘You are. You will.’
‘How do you know that?’
He looked over at her. Her hair had grown long enough that she had started to wear it in the Steward style, and it gave her the appearance of one of them.
‘I don’t know. I feel it,’ said Violet. ‘You fit. Even more than the Stewards. It’s as if these halls were built for you, the same feeling that I get when I hear the Elder Steward speak, or learn one of the old legends. It just feels right somehow.’
She was the one who fit. She had mastered the sword drills the novitiates practised; she ate with them and talked with them; they had accepted her presence, seeming to forget that she lacked Steward blood. She looked like a warrior of old, walking the halls in her old-fashioned clothes.