Arin was silent for a while. Siel didn't say anything else either.
The two of them simply remained where they stood, looking down at the unmarked patch of ground before them, swathed in the shadows of nighttime.
Arin's mind was racing.
When they'd first arrived and spoken to sir Veylor, he'd informed them of the tragic deaths of three people – an elderly couple and a three-year-old child – whose bodies had failed in spite of the local healer's efforts. There had been no mention of a teenaged girl.
Could Siel have made a mistake? No. He hadn't been wrong yet. There was no reason for him to suddenly start doubting the boy's tracking talent, just because he didn't like where it had led them.
Then… had Lana been a newer casualty of the forced sleep? Could she have… died… very recently? Sometime in the last couple of days, while both he and Siel had been asleep?
'…but I'm afraid that makes no sense,' mumbled Siel, almost as if in answer to Arin's unsaid questions.
'Why here?' the younger tower magician continued speaking to himself. 'Why would they choose to bury miss Lana here?'
…That's right.
From what sir Veylor had said, the elderly couple's funeral had been handled by some distant relatives of the wife, who resided in one of the other neighboring villages. The child, whose only relatives were still asleep in Silvershade, had been taken to Willowshade, to be respectfully laid to rest following the customs of this region.
So why would Lana – a young, well-regarded maid serving the village headman's family – have been carried to the outskirts of the village, to be buried unceremoniously in an unmarked grave?
It made no sense at all!
Arin had a sudden impulse to find a shovel, and dig into the spot beneath the large tree. He fought it off for the moment. Much as he was desperate for answers, he knew he wouldn't like what he saw there.
Still, he had to face reality; out here, in the real world, Lana – the friendly, fine-featured yet surprisingly strong, and very staunch friend of Elara's – was dead.
The girl he'd just been speaking to, less than a couple of hours ago, was dead.
Unbidden, the face of another lady, one just as kind and friendly, and a few years older than Lana had been, flashed within Arin's mind.
Another young lady, one with whom he'd spent hours conversing, laughing, and sharing a meal, until having to suddenly face the reality of her untimely, tragic death.
Layla.
…
…no, but seriously, what was up with this stupid world, and all these good people dying arbitrarily, and so damn young?
Was this just how things were going to be here?
Should he be preparing a damned obituary for Siel – the kid currently standing next to him?
Might as well write a joint one for himself and Rin while he was at it!
'From the moment he first showed up, he really wished he hadn't.'
…
Arin blinked hard, and shook his head to clear his mind. He was glad for the dark; he didn't want Siel noticing his troubled, forlorn, and distinctly un-Rin-like behavior. Not that he really thought the boy would care. He was still standing rooted to the spot; eyes locked on the bare patch of dirt.
Arin suddenly raised a hand to rest it on the boy's shoulder.
'We're going back to the headman's estate,' he said quietly.
After a moment, Siel nodded. 'There are many things we must ask of sir Veylor when he returns after daybreak,' he said. 'Until then, let us search for the answers we know he will not have.'
*
Once they had returned to the estate, Arin quickly and briefly went through all the rooms he'd missed earlier. Just in case, he also made sure to check all the shriveled lilies in their vases around the entire house. None of them were unexpectedly fresh, much less cursed.
Well, he'd already known all that 'cursed flowers' talk had just been part of the false story being set up within the distorted dream. Still, he wasn't keen on leaving any room for further confusion in his mind.
On that note…
Arin left to find Siel, who had been scanning through some records stored in the head maid – Marla's – quarters, in another part of the house. Upon finding the boy, who'd been shuffling through some loose sheets by a small desk, he slowly walked over to stand leaning against the nearby wall.
'What do you know about distortions?' he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
The younger tower magician looked up at him and cracked a small smile. 'Are you testing me, then?' he asked, setting down the piece of paper he'd been holding. 'Very well, senior brother Rin.'
'I must begin by saying that my knowledge is woefully limited. Given the subject, I know you will not hold it against me. After all, a true distortion is such an incredibly rare, if rather disastrous, phenomenon to behold. Even the public records of our lands, which trace back to several hundreds of years ago, only detail seven confirmed instances.'
'There is no definite cause or event known to trigger one. All we know is that, once an individual's talent is distorted, it begins to function as an entirely separate entity, outside of the person's control and brutally indifferent to their desires.'
'Even that which may have once been the most benign or gentle of talents, twists and warps and rampages unrestrained once it becomes a distortion. For instance, one of the better-known cases – from some four generations in the past – was that of the famous healer who specialized in mapping the internal organs and healing otherwise hidden ailments.'
'When he suffered a distortion, all the students in his conservatory were killed by having their bodies rupture and organs expelled to the outside. Those who attempted to approach him suffered a similar fate.'
'It had taken three days to find an elemental magician with a powerful and precise earth talent; he had triggered a remote earthquake, eventually causing the roof of the conservatory to fall and fatally crush the healer – '
Arin winced slightly.
'- and thereby put an end to the distortion.'
Siel sighed softly, then continued.
'There is no known cure for a distortion. Should such a situation ever arise, the Empire mandates us to… destroy the source.'