Chapter 42: I Made Them Read Aloud the Record That Said the Hero Doesn’t Exist

"He’s unconscious, not dying. And before you ask, it wasn’t poison. I checked twice."

Zelina came out of Roderic’s room at four in the morning and washed her hands in the basin in the corridor before she said anything else.

"Pulse sixty two. Pupils even again. He’ll eat if you put the spoon in his mouth."

"Then what is it?"

"He’s run out of room." She dried her hands on her hem. "Ask the one who measures things."

Saoirse had been sitting with her hands on the boy’s chest since noon and hadn’t written a single line, which from her is the worst sign there is.

"Seventy eight," she said when I came in. "And yours is twenty eight. That’s a hundred and six."

"It used to be a hundred."

"It was a hundred until the dock." She looked up. "Vaelion, the sum broke yesterday and sums don’t break on their own. Either one of you is borrowing from the other, or there’s a third party and nobody knows where."

"What do you need to find out?"

"The original record of his awakening. The Towers copy, not the archive one."

"How?" I asked. "The archives are guarded."

"Ospren Vey sent it last night with the fourteen crates," Saoirse said, her voice quiet. "With a note. He says he surrenders it of his own will."

"He doesn’t surrender anything," I said. "He must be scared."

"He is," she agreed. "He knows what’s coming."

"Let’s see it."

"Not yet," she said. "The Council is waiting. You need to be ready for what’s inside that scroll."

"I am ready."

"You think you are," she said. "But once you read it, there’s no going back."

"There never was," I replied. "Open the doors."

Saoirse looked at me.

"Ospren Vey sent it last night with the fourteen crates. With a note saying he surrenders it of his own will."

The Regency Council convened at nine.

Three hundred nobles, twelve clergy who no longer knew what to do with their two bulls, and Decimus Vanthel on his bench with his hands folded.

I asked for the floor on one point.

"Public reading of the record of Roderic Alden’s awakening. Fifth year of the era. Towers original."

"Majesty," Decimus said without standing, "that document is the property of a foreign guild."

"Surrendered voluntarily by its senior officer in this capital." I raised the scroll. "Signed, sealed, dated yesterday."

Ospren Vey, in the third tier, studied his knees with great dedication.

"Before the reading," Saoirse said from the low tier, "the Council should know what it’s about to hear."

I gave her the floor with my hand.

"A null awakening leaves no signature. That’s the definition of the word." She climbed two steps so they could see her. "This record contains a complete signature, measured over seven hours."

"It could be a copying error," a cleric said.

"It could, if the word NULL were in the same ink. It’s in different ink, and it sits on top of the stroke, not under it." She pointed at the scroll without approaching. "And there’s a second thing. The overseer’s hand."

"The nobles can’t see the document, adept."

"Then I’ll tell them. The first five hours of curve are steady. The last third isn’t." She came back down the two steps. "That man went on measuring with his hand shaking until the end, because it was his job. He died eleven months later."

The Council secretary read it, because I didn’t want it coming out of my mouth.

Complete mana signature, measured, registered. Curves drawn by hand. And over the top, in different ink and different handwriting, the word NULL.

"Continue with the attendance," I said.

The secretary went to the foot of the page.

Three names, which are the usual three. The aspirant. The Towers overseer. The crown’s representative.

And a fourth line.

"Designated carrier," he read.

He read it again because he didn’t understand it the first time.

"Who is the designated carrier?" a northern count asked out loud, without waiting his turn.

Nobody answered.

I opened my palm and let the blue window come out in front of three hundred people, which I had never done in eleven weeks.

The whole room leaned forward at once.

[Silver Tongue (A) → (A+)]

[Condition met: you held a truth that cost you more to keep.]

[New effect: in your presence, silence also counts as an answer.]

"That is illegal," Decimus said.

"That is a fact." I lowered my hand and the window stayed open above it. "I’m going to ask one question. Whoever stays silent answers anyway."

The northern count sat down without being told.

"Chancellor Decimus Vanthel. Were you in that barn in the fifth year of the era?"

Decimus said nothing.

It lasted eleven seconds. I counted them, the same way I counted the river intendant’s four, because counting is all I know how to do while I wait.

At the seventh, two clergy in the front row turned to look at him.

At the ninth, he stood.

"Yes. I was the designated carrier."

Three hundred nobles at once make an ugly sound.

Decimus waited for it to drop, hands on the back of the bench in front of him, and neither one shook.

"And since this body is about to ask what I carried, better you hear it from me than from a record. I didn’t carry it anywhere. I took it out of an eleven year old boy and I put it into something else."

"Into what?"

"Into a man of thirty four who had spent two years signing whatever I set in front of him." He lifted his chin toward the empty throne. "That something has been sitting there for twenty years, Majesty. And you’ve been using it since January."

"Explain yourself."

"Not in front of three hundred witnesses. I’ve already given more than I meant to today." He picked up his case. "Ask your System what Vaelion Ironveil was before you arrived."

"Chancellor."

He stopped in the central aisle with three hundred people standing on both sides.

"Do you regret it?"

It’s an appraiser’s question, not an emperor’s, and I asked it because the skill was still open.

"No," said Decimus Vanthel.

And he kept walking.

At the door he turned one last time, case under his arm.

"I regret the transport. Twelve days on horseback. I should have done it in six."