The Collapsing Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 3) Read online

  Stenesso shook his head. “The Bellangers have always been in charge of that. The Grenier family was handling it while it had control of the Bellanger holdings. Of course, as we know, the Bellangers are back in control of their own affairs once more.”

  All eyes turned on Bowe. Why hadn’t he known the Bellangers were in charge of supplying the Refuge? Of course, now that he thought about it, it made sense. Most of the food would have to come from Bellanger farms. Of course Stenesso could have just told Bowe instead of bringing it up in front of everyone else. Bowe glanced across at the Grenier Guardian, and for once, the man’s emotions were not shielded. Naked hatred shone from his eyes.

  In that instant, Bowe realized that Borba hadn’t been mistaken. Due to the recent lull in hostilities between the two families, Bowe had hoped that the Grenier animosity had faded. But in that glance, Bowe read an open declaration of war.

  “The Bellanger family has gone through some disruption.” Bowe decided to pretend he was aware of the problem. “So we aren’t on top of absolutely everything.”

  “That’s a weak excuse.” Stenesso said. “If the food isn’t there, we’ll all starve. It’s too important to leave to chance.”

  “It’s not an excuse,” Bowe said, “just an explanation. The Refuge will be stocked as usual even if it means starting a bit later and working a bit harder.”

  “I would hope so,” Stenesso said.

  Sorani looked across at Stenesso. “This is also too important to be playing games. The ascorim ends at the entrance to the Refuge.”

  During the two weeks of the Infernam, everyone worked together. There was no fighting or scheming; survival was all that mattered. The same rules should apply to supplying the Refuge but that seemed to be a line that Stenesso was willing to cross.

  “We also have to talk about the Green Path,” Jeniano said. “Has each family’s mentor been decided? Alandar has agreed to represent the Raine family again.”

  Jeniano had never changed the direction of a meeting of Guardians like this before. He was pushing himself forward, and, just as notably, Kesirran was fading into the background.

  “Kirande will be the Grenier mentor.” Stenesso turned to Bowe. “Will the Bellangers bother with mentors? I’ve heard that your family is in favor of doing away with the Green Path completely.”

  Bowe sucked in a breath. It was now clear who was spreading the rumor that Coinal had mentioned. Still, Bowe hadn’t expected such an outright accusation. Hostile gazes turned in his direction.

  “Of course I’m not against the Green Path. That’s ridiculous. I’ve heard those rumors and I know what caused them.” Bowe was thinking fast. Perhaps there was a way to turn this to his advantage, deflecting the accusations while also doing something to ease his own forebodings about the upcoming Path. “I have said that I think that the Path should be changed.” Bowe raised a hand to forestall objections. “Only a marginal and temporary change. For the last few Infernams, with three families instead of four, only six Greens were due to survive the Path, instead of the traditional eight. I suggest the following. That the Bellangers select four Greens this time around instead of just one, and therefore gain eight new ascor members.”

  “Why would we agree to do that?” Sorani asked.

  “Because the Bellanger family is still undermanned compared with the other families. The balance should be restored as quickly as possible.”

  “Bellangers gained five ascor at once last Infernam against all rules,” Stenesso said. “We made an exception once, not every year.”

  There had actually been six Bellanger ascor, but not as much attention was paid to them in the early years and few remembered Xarcon Bellanger. And Bowe was the only ascor who knew that Xarcon had joined the Guild.

  “Consider how empty is Bellanger Mansion compared to the other houses,” Bowe said.

  There was a moment of silence; Bowe was glad that the idea wasn’t being dismissed out of hand.

  “It’s true that the Bellanger family is still small,” Jeniano said finally.

  “This is ridiculous,” Stenesso said. “How often do we have to make exceptions for the Bellangers? It isn’t our fault that their previous Guardian was an incompetent sot.”

  Eolnar and Sorani shared an unreadable glance; those two were so close they seemed to be able to communicate wordlessly. “Not having a strong Bellanger family hurts Arcandis,” Sorani said. “So this proposal makes sense. Four is too many, though.”

  “Two,” Stenesso blurted out, then looked like he regretted speaking. He had agreed to Bowe’s scheme in principle.

  “Three,” Bowe said. “And we announce that this will be in place for this Infernam and next. “By then the Bellanger family will have a full complement of ascor.” Maybe Bowe would think of a new reason to extend the number of Greens selected, and if not, at least he would have improved the odds for two generations of Greens, including Coinal.

  Stenesso looked around the table, trying to judge how much support he’d get in opposing Bowe’s proposal. “Agreed,” he said finally, “provided Bowe agrees to personally be the mentor. Selecting three Greens correctly will require his direct involvement.”

  “Done,” Bowe responded instantly. This agreement had exceeded what Bowe could have expected so he couldn’t really object to that small condition. He didn’t know exactly why Stenesso wanted that—perhaps it was just to keep Bowe distracted.

  “And I will be the fourth mentor,” Eolnar said. A flash of surprise showed in Sorani’s face before he disguised it in a cough. Clearly, they hadn’t planned to have Eolnar as mentor up until that moment.

  Bowe could sense the threads of the ascorim floating in the air around him in the moves and countermoves of each family played out, but he didn’t understand the full picture. That was always the way, though. None of the Guardians ever knew the full picture. Bowe just had to keep one step ahead of everyone else. Or, at the very least, not fall too far behind.

  “That’s all we needed to discuss, I believe,” Sorani said. “Let’s get back out and enjoy the party. The Greenettes will be climbing the walls with no Guardians to sink their teeth into.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Stenesso said. “The Guild is growing in strength. We need to do something about them.”

  “That one’s definitely your job.” Jeniano said. “You don’t have responsibility for the farms anymore, and there’s no imminent invasion. Surely your marshals can deal with a few escay malcontents.”

  “You underestimate them. They were only a small problem until recently,” Stenesso said. “Their strength has grown and we should all be worried about a possible armed uprising.”

  “An armed rebellion?” Sorani sounded incredulous. “Escay wouldn’t openly attack ascor.”

  Bowe knew more about the Guild than anyone else in the room, and he wasn’t surprised by the possibility. Ascor tended to underestimate the escay.

  In Bowe’s mind, how ascor treated escay was the source of the problem, not the Guild. The ascor, instead of ruling the lower classes fairly, barely tolerated them, having the marshals lock up any troublemakers. Given those circumstances, a group of rebel escay such as the Guild was inevitable. Right was on their side. But Bowe would be laughed out of the room if he suggested that they should be deal with the Guild by improving life for the escay.

  “They have a spiritual leader, a cripple who travels in a chair with wheels. If we can kill or capture this leader, we’ll cut the head off this beast.” Stenesso nodded to his side, where Legrand leaned back in his chair with a bored expression on his face. “Legrand has taken over direct control of the marshals with the special mission to find this escay leader.”

  Coensaw was the spiritual leader; Stenesso had that right. Bowe wasn’t sure that killing him would cut the head off the Guild, though. Bowe hadn’t had any contact with the Guild in three years, so he wasn’t up to date with what was happening. He had promised them he’d help bring about change in Arcandis from within, but he�
�d been focused on regaining Bellanger power.

  “Sounds like you know what has to be done, and that you are doing it,” Jeniano said. “What do you need from the other families?”

  “I want Bowe to help with this special mission.”

  “Why do you need the help of the Bellangers?” Bowe asked.

  “Not the Bellangers,” Stenesso said. “You specifically. I understand you know the escay better than any other ascor. You have friends among them. You got them to sacrifice themselves for you when you formed your Army of Pots and Pans.”

  “I don’t have any friends among them,” Bowe said. Stenesso continued to attack Bowe’s reputation; he had clearly been storing up his arrows so he could fire them at once. “Perhaps I understand the escay better than most. However, I doubt I would be much help in an investigation to find a single person. Surely the Grenier marshals have enough resources to accomplish that themselves. I have to make sure the Refuge preparations are in order, plus I have just committed to being a mentor on the Path.”

  “He does seem to have enough to do,” Eolnar said.

  Stenesso didn’t push the issue. “Very well. Perhaps Bowe will change his mind later.” He stood. “Now, let’s enjoy some dancing and music. We came here for the party and not for the politics.”

  You came for the ambush, Bowe thought, watching as Stenesso walked out of the antechamber. Legrand, who hadn’t said a word at the meeting, followed his Guardian out. Bowe glanced back as he walked to the door. Jeniano offered his hand to Kesirran and helped him to his feet. Sorani and Eolnar hadn’t moved. Eolnar watched Bowe with a curious expression on his face, and Sorani watched his brother.

  Bowe was met with a blast of sound from the music as he exited back into the ballroom. Nothing much had changed, yet at the same time it all looked different. The music had a screechy flavor to it, the luster of youth of Greenettes had dimmed, and the gems around the ascors’ necks appeared gaudy rather than glamorous.

  Bowe had walked into Raine Mansion as a victor, feeling on top of the world. Had it been an illusion? Had Stenesso been allowing Bowe to feel safe while secretly moving against him? And even if the Bellanger family was secure, had Bowe the stomach to watch so many boys die on the Green Path? The Guild was an additional problem. Three years ago he had promised Coensaw and Xarcon that he would help in improving the plight of the escay. With Stenesso making a push against the Guild, he could be called to honor that promise to help them. If Stenesso got his way, Bowe would, at the same time, become part of a mission to crush the Guild.

  Bowe backed out of the ballroom and into the antechamber before anyone noticed him. He was expected to return and mingle, talk to Greenettes, prospect for wives, but he didn’t feel up for it. Instead he nodded to Sorani and Eolnar before taking the other door. From there, he followed the corridors to the Raine main entrance. He’d return to Bellanger Mansion immediately; he had a lot of thinking to do.

  Chapter 2

  50 Days Left

  The teahouse was called the Silken Palace. Bowe had never been there before but it was the traditional meeting place for the mentors before the start of the Path, located close to Drywell Square. From the outside, there was nothing to tell it apart from the rest of the houses on the street, with its squat shape and baked redbrick walls.

  Inside was a different story. Silk drapes, in luxuriant reds and blues and greens, hung from the ceiling. The carpet was dark maroon and so thick that Bowe practically bounced across the room. Ornaments and sculptures that wouldn’t have been out of place in one of the family mansions accentuated the rest of the decor. It was a favorite spot for ascora lunches.

  Right now, though, it had a more macabre usage with the four mentors about to discuss the upcoming Path. In the far corner, beyond a leafy plant, Alandar, Eolnar, and Kirande sat cross-legged before a low table. Bowe nodded to each of them.

  A large silver teapot that had been polished until it shone sat in the center of the table with a pair of small candles underneath a small platform keeping it warm. Delicate white cups of tea and small plates of delicacies filled the rest of the space on the table.

  Bowe sat cross-legged opposite Alandar. “What happens now?”

  “We eat cakes.” Alandar gestured at the food. “And we drink tea.” He looked pointedly at Bowe’s stump. “Perhaps some of us will only be able to do one or the other.”

  “I passed by Drywell Square and the Greens are already gathered there,” Bowe said.

  “We let them wait,” Alandar said. “It hasn't been long since you were a Green—surely you haven’t forgotten how things work.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Bowe said. He still remembered that day in Drywell Square six years ago. The Greens stewed under the noonday sun and the wind swirled up the smell of sweat and desperation. Bowe had been sure that he’d be the one to die but instead it had been Tlirris. Blood had splashed across Bowe’s vision when Drakasi had sunk his sword deep into the Raine Green’s chest. The other Greens had scattered in a tidal wave of panic. “Just because things happened a certain way last time doesn’t mean it has to be the same this time.”

  “It’s just the way it works,” Kirande said. “We all experienced a similar first day as a Green.” Kirande had helped Bowe when he was on the Path; he liked the dash of chaos Bowe brought at the time. He also, like Eolnar, vied for leadership of the Bellanger family at one point.

  “We’re the mentors,” Bowe said. “We get to decide what happens. No point in doing things the way it was done before just for the sake of it.”

  Eolnar chuckled. “Tradition, Bowe, you can’t mess with tradition. Doing things the way they have been done before is the basis of all stable societies.”

  “Perhaps important traditions keeping things stable doesn’t mean that every little thing has to be done the same way. The Green Path is difficult enough. Do we really have to go out of our way to make it even worse?”

  “A harsh start to the Path lets the Greens know what to expect,” Alandar said.

  “They’ve been preparing their whole lives for this,” Bowe argued. “They all know that most of them will die.”

  “Knowing and experiencing are two different things,” Alandar said. “What exactly do you want to change this time around? You want us to go out earlier so their delicate little heads don’t get too much sun?”

  “Yes.” Bowe ignored Alandar’s tone. “But I also want to do away with the custom of killing one of the Greens.” Two sword-belts had rested at the entrance of the Silken Palace, beside the discarded boots. The long, thin sword must have belonged to Kirande, and the one with gemstones on the scabbard could only be Alandar’s. Which of them planned to kill a Green?

  “Just because you are a Guardian doesn’t mean you are in charge here,” Alandar said. “We all have equal say. You have already changed the Path by adding two extra Selects for the Bellanger family. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  Alandar had a dark glint in his eye. According to rumors, he enjoyed the pain of others, and possibly was savoring the thought of the upcoming death. To either side of Alandar, Bowe wasn’t sensing much support. “Just a suggestion.” Bowe had learned when to fight his battles and when to beat a retreat.

  “I don’t care much for cakes,” Kirande announced after a moment of silence. “And I don’t think it matters much how long the Greens have to wait. We don’t have to waste our day sitting here.”

  Alandar smiled. “I think the tradition of waiting a long time came from Veliro’s love of cakes. But since Eolnar usurped his role”—Alandar glanced at the Lessard ascor—“perhaps we should get this over with.”

  “Sure.” Eolnar stood up.

  “We need to decide which Green to kill,” Alandar said.

  “You have someone in mind?” Kirande stood up beside Eolnar.

  “I do,” Alandar said. “And I’d like to do the deed personally.”

  “Traditionally a Grenier role, but”—Kirande shrugged—“as you wish.” Bowe sensed a
certain relief in Kirande’s tone. He’d seen the task as a necessary evil.

  Kirande and Alandar walked to the entrance where they began to buckle on their swords. Eolnar offered his arm to help Bowe to his feet.

  “Alandar only cares about tradition when it suits him,” Bowe said to the Lessard ascor.

  “Then he’s no different than any of the rest of us,” Eolnar said. “Some things are harder to change than others. Some traditions are more entrenched.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” Every step of Bowe’s life, he’d fought to change the way things were normally done. And none of the steps had been easy ones.

  Bowe started after the other mentors, but Eolnar pulled him back, leaning in close. “I’d like to have a talk with you.” He glanced around. “But I don’t trust silk walls. Afterward?”

  “Looking forward to it.” Bowe would find out why Eolnar had volunteered to be a mentor, or at least he’d discover as much as Eolnar was willing to tell him. Would Eolnar and the Lessards end up being an enemy or an ally or somewhere in between? Considering that the Greniers were an avowed enemy, Bowe could do with someone on his side. Though in the ascorim, things seldom went the way one expected.

  After putting on his boots, Bowe followed the other mentors out of the tearoom. Their rickshaws were parked outside the Silken Palace. Bowe ordered Toose, over his objection, to wait by the rickshaw and the four mentors walked the short distance to the square. The sun hammered down and sweat gathered under Bowe’s clothes.

  At the edge of Drywell Square, a crowd had gathered. Those who usually traded in the square now waited for it to clear. With them, they carried their stalls, and some of their wares were packed in wheelbarrows. Seeing the approaching mentors, the escay sellers moved aside, creating a corridor for them to walk through.

  Drywell Square was usually the beating heart of Arcandis, but for one morning every six years the heart stopped beating. Stopped and blackened, it became the starting point of the cancer called the Green Path. Bowe sometimes avoided Drywell Square just because it reminded him of that day exactly six years ago when he had waited for the mentors to deliver his fate, to decide that it was Tlirris to die on the first day and not him. And now he was forced to enter again, this time not as a victim, but much worse, as a mentor, one who clutched the heart of Arcandis in his hand and squeezed.