Chapter XX: All The Reflections Of The Storm

Leudora Galbur's spirit filled her metallic eyes like water fills an empty glass. The Spy Guild could have easily traced her communications even if she had chosen to use encrypted light projectors. The only option left to her was less than pleasant. Leudora let the projectors drain her own body to mask the signature and allow her to deliver a message to Amaltheia. Ferenc warned her against the dangers of abusing her enhancement, but she did not care: she could not afford to wait for a glider in Miloš's old house forever.

Ferenc would understand doing this once. Once, he would accept. Or, perhaps, he would not. Regardless of the outcome, Leudora would never ask his forgiveness: putting her life on the line was her way of paying for her actions. She never faltered. She had to convince Amaltheia to travel to Poland and negotiate with the Setra. She had to find a way to follow her target to Greece, and Szemere had to urge the eccentric Gurov family to pick her up with a glider. Miloš Bučan, Ferenc Szemere, her niece – each had a role in her plan. If she was successful, they'd live. All of them. She was not sure about herself. Maybe she was not as important as she thought she was.

A strange sensation of hollowness distracted her from her thoughts. Still dizzy, Leudora propped herself on her elbows and looked around: she was lying on an old couch in a cottage on the Montenegrin-Albanian border. Ferenc leaned over her, holding a fading light projector in his right hand. He seemed calm, but Leudora could read his concern in the twitch of his lips and the deepening crease of his eyebrow. Her keenly perceptive intellect had powers over him, and she suspected that Ferenc himself would not deny the value of her insights. He rarely liked them, but he had learnt to tolerate Leudora's ideas over the years. He did not fear her. Even his pet did not. Szemere's huge turul slept peacefully, perching on an old wardrobe and tucking her head in her cinnamon-colored wings.

Leudora tried to rise, but could not regain her balance. Szemere held her arm, preventing her from slipping down. "Amaltheia will not be safe in Poland," she uttered, clutching his shoulder. "The Setra will never support our cause. But I wonder if they are bold enough to support our enemies."

"What if they are?" Szemere spoke softly and with caution. He must have learnt to tread carefully during the long years spent with the Fasma. Leudora wondered if Fahej was the only one with whom he dared to be careless. That awkward giant followed her master like a devoted hound, and rarely left his side. Leudora almost smiled, shifting her gaze from Ferenc to Fahej: an unlikely couple, but a beautiful one, nonetheless.

"You have not heard my question, have you?" He tilted his head to the side, letting go of her elbow.

"I have. But I don't believe you require an answer." She straightened her back. "I've told Amaltheia I am searching for someone in Greece. And I allowed her to use the field of blood lilies as a bargaining chip during her negotiations with the Setra on behalf of the Lascaris. I will send someone her way if it does not work out. I haven't said anything but the truth."

"A side of it…"

"I couldn't tell her that I am following a murderer who smuggles our blood to Hungary." She paused, her graceful lips forming a wicked grin. "And I have not mentioned the light-tracker I have slid into his flesh."

"Impossible…" Szemere fixed her with an incredulous stare. "Where would you get a device prohibited after the wars? The Spy Guild was forced to destroy the prototypes…"

"A present, as strange as it may sound." Leudora folded her arms on the chest and leaned back. "This tracker is different, though. The poisonous substance it contains has certain properties that make it flammable." A feverish yellow gleam appeared in her grey eyes. "I have brought the projector to follow the man to his master. The location Lady Asenova has transmitted through Amaltheia convinced me I was on the right track. Amaltheia believes I am searching for allies and, therefore, willingly helps me. She is not wrong. What she doesn't know is that I need my enemies more. But you are more perceptive than she is. You must have guessed why I am in such a hurry to get to Athens."

Ferenc's silence almost inflicted physical pain: Leudora would have preferred angry shouts and accusations to that sad disapproval creasing his soft features. Had he even realized how strangely handsome he looked in his fury? "Right decisions often have terrifying consequences," Leudora thought.

"Will you always remain my moral compass, Ferenc, or does your loyalty have limits?" She waited patiently for him to speak. After a long minute, he focused his gaze on her face.

"Both Miloš and I have asked Kostadin Gurov to lend us a glider. Not many have remained after the war, but a few Psychics in Albania and Bulgaria still have permits. And Gurov is rich, he has resources. Even the Alkari keep their distance from him."

"You are a man of many talents, Ferenc. Diplomacy is one of them." Leudora pressed her fingers against her chest and grinned in mock-surprise. "I have never doubted that we had managed to preserve a few gliders and cloaking veils after the Bucharest treaty. But I can imagine how difficult it was to ask Gurov for a favor on my behalf. That is a bold act of disobedience. Even by our generous standards."

"We have learnt to rely on each other after two Balkan wars." His face darkened. "I wish fewer people had to pay with their lives for our education."

"Indeed." She sighed. Leudora knew that the gravity-switchers were preparing for war, and that the Spy Guild would join them, because only a madman would bet on her people. Szemere wanted her to replace the High Archon, although he surely realized that no one would follow her without his backing. Patient and calm, he put up with her methods and offered her his support. For that she was grateful.

He did not deny Leudora's conclusions. Instead, he blinked rapidly, as if relinquishing a disturbing image from his consciousness.

"My visions are unsettling. If Calimachi continues to be the Archon, I will not have a chance to help our people. He will do anything to thwart my actions. That is why I shall leave the Fasma before I become ensnared into whatever trap he is preparing for me."

"You have sacrificed a lot to join the Fasma in the first place." Leudora knew the consequences of his choice all too well.

"That was necessary," Szemere said with uncharacteristic restraint. Leudora snorted.

"Bloody necessary? You had a stellar career, a charming fiancé, a trustworthy friend, a circle of admirers and the thickest cover of the Veil above your head. Trading a privileged position for a purple robe and light-scroll stacks does not strike me as the most necessary choice."

"You, out of all people, should understand." A sad grin played on his lips, giving his appearance an almost boyish grace.

"I did not renounce anything to join the Fasma. I have always wanted to walk the path of knowledge. I am good at nothing else. You, on the other hand, were born a time-master and you had other opportunities."

"I had less ambition than you did."

Leudora retreated, suppressing a short snort. Ferenc radiated a strange warmth that clouded her thoughts.

"I didn't keep it a secret, did I? I have always been ambitious. I wanted to solve the mysteries that plague others, to understand the Ancestors instead of worshipping them. Not much has changed since my exile. If my ambition ever becomes my downfall, I will accept it. After all, we all know the stakes." She stared at the wall, her eyes strangely empty. She shuddered when Szemere reached out to touch her fingers. She withdrew her hand and rose from the couch.

"You have seen enough of my timelines, Ferenc. Are you still not repelled?"

He said nothing, leaving Leudora without an answer. He was not devoid of subtlety. A perfect diplomat. Ferenc never allowed his presence to overwhelm, but never let others ignore him. Leudora often wondered why he would ever bury such talents in the Fasma libraries? If not for the Serpent, he could have been the deadliest man beneath the Veil. And Leudora could still make him into one. She would try.

"Those people, those murderers… are you certain they're not waiting for you to find them?" he asked. Leudora lifted an eyebrow and scoffed. Ferenc knew how to ask the right questions. She understood why Calimachi was terrified of him. He saw right through their ambitions.

"I count on my opponents' awareness," she said. "They may even sense my presence through the Veil. But you are capable of far more impressive feats."

Leudora approached the wardrobe and looked up. Fahej stirred above her with a loud squeak. Cautiously, she stepped aside: turuls were only graceful in the sky, on the land they were a disaster with their huge wings. Szemere frowned and stared at the window, listening to the howling wind.

"I would never serve as someone's spy," he said.

"You would not. But you can be manipulated. Everyone can. Even my niece Amaltheia. She is driven by the desire to bring the Lascaris back from oblivion, and she disregards all other variables in this equation."

Szemere shook his head. "You chose to trust her, knowing all that."

"I do. Because I know her. In the absence of her father Lenar, Adeona has molded her in her own image. And, just like Adeona, Amaltheia will eat dirt and spit blood before she harms a Lascari."

"But you are not a Lascari," Szemere objected. Leudora smiled, running her hand through the reddish strands of her hair.

"We share blood. It is all that matters to her."

She closed her eyes, feeling her body tremble, responding to the wind.

"I was afraid of that," Leudora whispered, moving away from the window. Szemere had kept the doors locked the entire day, weary of the rain, but Leudora doubted he realized the real danger. He thought a door could stop a lightning-bearer, when it could not. Leudora knew she would be hypnotized and powerless in a matter of seconds after hearing the thunder shatter the skies. Lightning sensitivity came with the curse: she could do nothing but lose herself in the call of the lightning.

"Don't follow it!" Szemere shouted.

"I cannot," she mumbled around a desperate inhale.

Her charcoal eyes acquired an unnatural glow and she pushed Ferenc to the wall. Electricity surged through Leudora's veins. She smiled, welcoming the wild feeling. Nothing could stop her when she followed the smell of an approaching thunderstorm. It felt so good.

Leudora did not know what would happen if the lightning that had once given her a double life returned. She wondered if her body could survive another encounter. She had no power over her muscles, but her mind felt serene and clear. She did not want to resist. This time, she wanted to know. Everything. All the answers. All the questions.

Leudora left the house, sending sparks in all directions. Predicting her actions, Ferenc circled around, his turul following him. Leudora walked slowly, unaware of the cold wind freezing her limbs and the raindrops falling on her head and shoulders. Naked trees bent in the wind and wet dirt clung to her ankles. Szemere's attempts to stop her were futile. She moved forward towards a small lake. Nothing mattered but her movement.

He lunged to bring her down seconds before she stepped into icy water. Szemere's hands grabbed her shoulders, and desperate Hungarian curses clouded her head, ringing somewhere in the back of her mind like distant memories. She knew he felt excruciating pain when he touched her, but he did not let go, only planted his nails into her shoulder. "Let me be," Leudora whispered as they fell into muddy waters. With Szemere's hands wrapped around her, she could not breathe. A bolt of lightning hit the surface, but the energy dissipated without reaching her. She tried to push Szemere away, icy needles piercing her skin, but the time-master only dragged her deeper into the cold darkness.

Gulping for air, Leudora saw a figure – a transparent projection. The face seemed vaguely familiar, yet she could swear she had never seen it before: an olive-skinned woman with eyes as green and dark as those of Despina Asenova. The ghost stretched her hand out to catch Leudora's wrist. Then everything went silent.

Leudora did not know exactly how long she had been unconscious. She woke up feeling Szemere's brown eyes exploring the fine features of her face. He kept his distance, bending over her splayed frame. She found the situation awkward enough and twisted her lips. The cold touch of Ferenc's hand sent tickling shivers through her bones - a sensation so unusual, it took Leudora a couple of minutes to realize she was still covered with mud. They both were. Blood oozed from his nose, but he did not pay much attention to it. She imagined they both did not look their best.

"How long have I…?" Her voice sounded unpleasantly hoarse.

"Two hours," he replied. "You are in Athens."

"The glider?" she asked in Hungarian. Szemere nodded silently.

"You must have been very persuasive… to drag me into the glider." Her lips curved.

She regretted not having seen the serpent-like marvel. The sleek forms of those half-organic creations looked like ribbons covered with mirrors on the outside. On the inside, they created weird geometrical worlds melding with their pilots. Leudora found them fascinating: they reminded her of needles embroidering the sky. Her Ancestors considered them living beings with a shape as fluid as a scarf in the wind. Her former colleagues from the Fasma believed gliders were constructed by skillful engineers. The subsequent creation of 'slippers', smaller variations of gliders, proved them right in the eyes of the Council. But Leudora had a habit of questioning every truth and every lie. Light-projectors, gliders and other ingenious devices – everything was supposed to be a gift from the Ancestors. And Leudora wondered if those gifts came at a high price.

"Miloš could not let you fry the whole forest along with the neighboring villages."

Ferenc's voice returned her to reality: she was still lying on someone's couch in what looked like an old bedroom filled with antique furniture.

"You have no self-preservation instinct. And neither does Bučan." She sat up and straightened her back. Szemere did not answer.

Leudora noticed a dewy glow in his soft-brown eyes turn red. Even exhausted, the time-master still preserved his good looks. Desperately trying to cope with her dizziness, she leaned on Ferenc's hand and stood up. She wondered if he had seen that woman in the water, but chose to keep the vision to herself.

Leudora's troubled thoughts were interrupted by Bučan, who appeared on the doorstep with a confused and relieved expression.

"I am pleased to see you fine, my lady," he blushed. Leudora smirked, looking around: refined window panes with golden shades contrasted against the white mouldings of the walls. She wondered how this unusual place looked from the outside, expecting a stucco ornamented façade overlooking a picturesque boulevard.

"You didn't think any of us would make it, did you?" she asked.

"Well… I believed in you and the Inquisitor." Miloš's lips broke into a shy grin. Why was he so desperate to believe in others instead of himself? Tactful as always, Ferenc materialized behind Leudora's back.

"I will join the guests, Miloš." He nodded and left, his footsteps soft and silent.

Miloš blushed, gazing meekly at Leudora. "Will you also join us, Lady Galbur? I asked Veselina to buy cherries for you."

Leudora smirked. He was indeed a fine young man, even if he tried too hard to please her.

"Everyone is curious to see me alive. I must oblige."

Bučan smiled, then paused and asked cautiously, "Do you ever do anything except for planning, commanding others and reading?"

"Not willingly."

"You will find understanding with my father then…" He permitted himself a wry smile. "He would be happy to see you."

"So would I." Leudora did not lie. She hesitated before addressing him again. "I must ask you for a favor."

"Whatever you need, Lady Galbur," he replied with the earnest eagerness.

"I am going to follow a dangerous man tomorrow, Miloš," she said. "I may not return."

"Do not say that…, my lady."

"I don't want to sound pathetic." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I cannot allow Ferenc to follow me. But you must. I need you to get me a vial of purple liquid while I am talking to someone called the Glasscracker. His assistant will have it with him. He will drop a bag, which you will find. Nobody will notice you. They will be hunting me. Lady Asenova saw you succeed."

"I will do as you ask."

"Do that, and our people may have a chance to survive."

"My father knew you'd find a way."

"Hm, I'll greet him as soon as I sweep away the dirt from my face." Leudora bowed with mock-courtesy.

When Bučan and Szemere left the room, she finally allowed her body to slide down the wall. She had little time to style her hair, raking her fingers through cropped strands and rearranging them.

"I must look presentable. Szemere will do the rest. For now. My task is to not to ruin his efforts," she told herself. She had little interest in exchanging pleasantries with esteemed Psychics.

When Leudora appeared in the main hall, she was dressed in a flowy black dress with flared sleeves and a high collar that showed off her overly long neck, and emphasized the sickly whiteness of her skin. Awkward silence took over the room, splashing Leudora with a wave of curious stares. She vaguely knew some of the people, including Kostadin Gurov, his daughter Veselina and Bučan's late father, but the rest all knew her. Leudora greeted them with all the polite courtesy she could summon. "I am probably very striking," she chortled to herself. "I haven't yet crossed the room, and they are already afraid. I am becoming truly good at it. With such progress, I will one day eclipse the Serpent himself." For a moment Leudora did feel superior and invincible, enjoying it much to her own surprise. Bučan whispered something with sincere concern, Gurov heartedly shook her hand, a Bulgarian energy-twister approached her with flattering comments and someone asked her whether she was worried about the recent events in Budapest.

"'Furious' would be a more suitable word," Leudora replied with a curt gesture of her hand.

"Leu, I hope you feel better! You look stunning!" The loud voice belonged to Inquisitor Veselina Gurova. In Fasma robes instead of her usual jeans and long shirt, she looked almost outlandish.

"Counting my recent mud-eating experience in a swamp, I feel alive."

Veselina laughed with her big brown eyes glittering in the darkness of the room.

"I won't tell the Archon, I swear!"

"Please, do. Let the poor creature know just how resilient I am. Almost like a pest."

"Well, I would like to conceal my detours from Calimachi. After all, I am officially settling some affairs at home."

"You are, in your own fashion. You do have relatives in Greece, don't you?"

"See those two halfwits over there? The ones that are harassing our favorite Inquisitor?" Veselina pointed straight ahead, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. "They count as distant cousins."

The women moved past a glass table, scurrying away to free space for Szemere. Although Leudora did get her share of unwanted scrutiny, it was Ferenc Szemere who stole the show. Leudora had to admit that he wore the attention well, moving with poise and grace. In her mind, she even dared to compare him to the Serpent and his self-assured way of handling people. Just like Leudora herself, the Serpent awoke respect, but people resented his coldness and his intuitive intellect. Szemere with his soft brown curls, beautiful dewy eyes and an understanding smile appeared as a very different creature in the eyes of his admirers. He was approachable: with such a fine appearance and empathic intelligence, it would not be difficult to make him into the most formidable politician the Veil had ever seen. If not the Archon, then the Councilor. He would forgive Leudora, eventually. After all, she envied him more than he could have imagined.

Szemere spoke with the calm confidence of an orator, his words converting people to his cause, changing opinions, kindling hope and soothing concerns. He found suitable words for everyone, and seemed to charm his way through the crowd effortlessly. What perplexed Leudora was his striking lack of selfishness. He was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by people, promoting what could become 'Leudora's cause'. In the corner of her vision, she saw her distant cousin Tijana Galbur approach Szemere and ask a question. Tijana chose to greet Szemere first, although she and Leudora had treated each other well in the past. Leudora spent all her life sharpening her mind and tongue, and Tijana found her strange. Szemere was different. She liked him.

Watching him interact with people, Leudora realized how little she knew about their behavior, desires and failures. She knew how they functioned and what they were capable of, but their dreams rarely caught her fascination. "I wish I had his patience and his concern for the worlds of others," she whispered to herself. She only realized someone sought her company when Kostadin Gurov, Veselina's father, touched her shoulder.

"I see you avoid our time-mastering friend, Lady Galbur," Gurov said. "Spending a decade in Hungary must have been a very interesting experience."

Leudora raised an eyebrow. "It was… educating."

"I believe it was. You seem exhausted."

"There is nothing a bottle of cherry liquor and a fine debate cannot fix." Leudora easily switched to Bulgarian, earning a sincere smile from Gurov. They moved through the crowd, exchanging remarks that conveyed nothing, but created an illusion of a dialogue.

"I think I should leave soon, Lord Gurov." Leudora's mind was empty: how much small talk could she still squeeze out of herself?

"Ah, yes, I understand." A familiar twinkle in his hazel eyes reminded her of Veselina. "Do you still care for liquor?"

"Always." She smiled weakly and accepted a glass, walking away as discreetly as she could. The company was there to see Inquisitor Szemere and satisfy their curiosity. She indulged them. She knew it was Szemere and Gurov who had organized the gathering. Strangely enough, Leudora was both annoyed by their actions and grateful for their shrewdness.

Evening twilight faded as Bučan accompanied both Leudora and Szemere to the University Building. The noise of the city rang in Leudora's ears, and tall lamplights painted peculiar shadows on the ground. Athens smelled of dust, salt and fresh oranges.

"A friend of mine will be happy to host you, my lady," Bučan said before departing.

"I wouldn't want to bother anyone with my presence." Leudora smiled with all the politeness she could muster. She imagined her smiles looked awkward at best, and frightening at worst. But Bučan seemed to think she possessed not only great beauty, but admirable social skills as well. Biding his good-byes, he kept squeezing Leudora's hands and mumbling something to Szemere, reluctant to let them go.

When Miloš left, Ferenc took his place by her side.

"I promised Lady Asenova that I would help you," he said.

"I'm certain you did," Leudora uttered quietly, staring at the ground. "Professor Asenova is right to think highly of you, but you are not cut out for what I am about to do, Ferenc."

Ferenc frowned: he must have predicted her actions, but could not wrap his mind around them. He muttered something incomprehensible when Leudora grabbed his hands, sending electricity through his veins. She barely controlled it.

He lost consciousness, and Leudora lunged to catch his limp body, knees buckling under his weight. She carried him to the side of the pavement, stumbling in the process. "Veselina will pick you up, Ferenc. If I fail, you will become a perfect Councilor and she will replace Calimachi. If I fail."

Leudora's hand ran through Szemere's long wavy hair before she left him.