Cane's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The council hall stood at the city's heart, all dark wood and black stone, its tall windows glowing gold. Guards led Cane inside and left him on the floor below a curved bench. Twelve elves sat above him. Their faces were cold. Libra stood at his shoulder, wings folded, silent for once. He had reached the summons. Now he had to survive it. "You claim a bloodline," the eldest councilor said. "Show us its mark, or leave the city by dawn." Cane lifted the golden ring. The ruby caught the light. "This is older than your walls," he said. But the words fell flat, the way they had at the gate. The councilors leaned in, saw a pretty ring, and nothing more. One laughed under her breath. Cane reached for the change, for a face they might trust. The power slid through his fingers like wet thread. He held only his own borrowed shape. "A ring is metal," the eldest said. "Any thief can wear one. Prove your claim with more than gold." Cane had nothing more. Libra could not conjure a lion inside these walls; a false omen here would brand him a liar. He stood exposed. If they cast him out, he would lose his one path to the throne, and unmake his whole race. The great doors banged open. A seven-foot elf woman strode in, white hair loose, gold eyes bright even as they dimmed at the edges. She wore white and gold robes stained from the road. She did not bow. Cane had never seen her. But she looked at him as if she had known his face for years. "His claim is true," she said. Her voice was flat, without decoration. "I am Valera Goldriver. My eyes show me what comes. I have seen this man's blood fill an empty throne. I have seen a race rise from him." The eldest frowned. "Your sight is failing, Goldriver. The whole city knows it." "It is," Valera said. "Soon I'll see nothing. But I see this now, and I have never been wrong about a face." She turned her gold eyes on Cane, then on the ring. "Test him if you want. He wears the mark of a maker, not an heir. There has never been one like him. There will be, because of him." The councilors murmured. Valera's word carried weight her fading eyes had not yet spent. The eldest studied Cane a long moment, then spoke. "You may stay," she said. "On the seer's word, not your ring. If she is wrong, you both answer for it." Cane bowed. Relief and unease sat together in his chest. He belonged in the city now, but only as long as a blind woman's last visions held. Outside, Valera stopped him. "I saved you," she said. "Now you help me. A thief took my Lens. Find it before my eyes go dark, or my visions of you die with them."