Tenzin cocked her head. “I don’t know.”
“I do,” Ben said. “Lan told him.” He shrugged when Tenzin stared at him. “I asked.”
Lan Caihe was one of the more mysterious elders on the council. They appeared to be very young—no more than a child of eleven or twelve—and often roamed widely through the human world. No one questioned Lan’s roaming because they often brought back useful information for the council, so it hadn’t surprised Ben that the enigmatic elder was the one who’d shared the news about Arosh and the bone scroll.
“Lan is a fire vampire,” Tenzin said. “I imagine they are particularly eager that Arosh doesn’t retrieve the scroll.”
“I imagine you’re right.” Beatrice set down her book. “I also imagine that Lan got that information from Saba’s sources.”
“Why do you say that?” Tenzin asked.
“Rumors, whispers, and political secrets,” Beatrice said. “I hate them. I prefer to get information directly, and I have my own sources in Penglai.” Beatrice picked up another book. “Lan was traveling in West Bengal when he got the news about the bone scroll. That news was shared by one of Saba’s granddaughters, Anavi. Lan passed it along to the council, as I’m sure Saba’s granddaughter knew they would.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “Where are you going with this?”
Beatrice set the book down and leaned on the table. “Saba’s intentions toward anyone and anything are… mysterious, to say the least. It was hearing about her involvement in your turning that got me wondering about her role in all this.” She looked at Tenzin. “I really wish you’d told us about that before a few weeks ago.”
Tenzin rolled her eyes. “I am tired of apologizing, and I won’t do it anymore.”
“Shocking.” Beatrice turned back to Ben. “She doesn’t think like other immortals; we all know that. And Arosh having the bone scroll could, in theory, make him more powerful than she is.”
Tenzin sat up. “You’re right.”
“It would fundamentally shift the power within their council,” Beatrice said. “Right now, Saba is the queen of Alitea without question. She takes the advice of Kato, Arosh, and Ziri, but when it comes down to a final decision on anything, everyone knows that her wishes are the law. She also has an army of cured vampires to do her bidding. I cannot think of a single vampire in the world whose power even comes close to hers right now.”
“But if Arosh could control all four elements…” Ben’s mind was whirling. He’d been thinking of Saba and Arosh as a unit even though Tenzin had warned him not to. They weren’t a unit. They were individuals with their own motivations and clans.
Beatrice continued. “Further, if Saba believes the theory that the scroll can only be used by a child of Mithra, then she’s out of luck because she’s no one’s child. Why would she want to make Arosh more powerful than she is?”
“She wouldn’t.” Tenzin stared at Beatrice. “Saba doesn’t want Arosh to get the scroll.”
Beatrice slowly shook her head. “I don’t think she does.”
Ben frowned. “So what is all this that she’s been doing for the past few weeks? She’s been helping Arosh search for it.”
“I think it’s theater,” Beatrice said. “A cover for her true intentions.”
“Which are?”
Beatrice bit her lip. “I don’t know for certain, but… Let’s wait for your uncle.”
He turned to Tenzin. “Do you think she wants to destroy it?”
Tenzin frowned. “No, I don’t think she’d do that. The ancients can be destructive, but not about knowledge. Saba couldn’t even destroy the Elixir manuscript after she knew it contained the recipe for vampire poison. She probably couldn’t bring herself to destroy the scroll.”
Beatrice said, “Ben, what was our original plan to search for the scroll in the north?”
“We were going to Bahir Dar and then Gondar. You and Giovanni were going to visit all the tourist sites with Sadia while Tenzin and I searched in the north.”
“Exactly,” Beatrice said. “Until Hirut asked Giovanni to consult with a priest in Lalibela.”
“Which was far closer to our search area,” Tenzin said. “So it worked out.”
Ben understood immediately. “Hirut wouldn’t have suggested Lalibela unless Saba wanted her to.”
Tenzin said, “But the manuscript Giovanni is consulting on—”
“Is intriguing.” Giovanni walked through library door and went to the table where Beatrice had her books spread out. “But the priests here don’t need my help in the least. They’re experts in Ge’ez manuscripts. I’ve been working with them, but I am the student here, not the teacher.”
“So why did Saba want us in Lalibela?” Ben asked.
Giovanni and Beatrice exchanged a look. “Because your uncle is convinced that the bone scroll is here,” Beatrice said. “And he thinks Saba wants you two to find it.”
Dawn brought a halt to their meeting before they could go on, but Ben couldn’t stop thinking about what Beatrice had said. “Why would she want us to find it?”
Tenzin was curled next to him, her arm wrapped over his waist as he drifted toward sleep. “As much as I hate her, maybe her aims are the same as ours. She has seen more of the world than any living being. She knows that no one immortal should have that much power.”
“But why us?” Ben’s eyes closed, and Tenzin’s murmuring voice fell silent.
Ben dreamed of fire.
His eyes opened in the heat of a dark tunnel with blue flames licking along the walls. The tunnel wasn’t the red volcanic stone of the Amhara region but dark and dripping limestone that smelled of green vegetation, seawater, and a childhood lost before it could be.
He walked through the tunnel, but he was not burned, following the sound of a voice singing softly ahead of him.
Sadia sat on the floor of a mica-flecked grey cave with flames dancing around her. She looked up. “Ben!”
His heartbeat felt human again, raw and angry in his chest. “Sadia, it’s not safe here.”
She waved him closer, but he was afraid. He could feel the flames on his own arms, crawling up his clothing and creeping into his hair.
Sadia waved at him again. “Closer.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Closer!”
He gave in to her demands, bending down until his face was right in front of hers. She put her chubby hands on his cheeks and looked at him. “Your eyes are like mine.”
Ben blinked and she was gone. The cave was gone too, and he was standing in an open field where the stars shone like diamonds in the night sky.
Tenzin stood next to him, her hand over her heart.
“This is the place we truly worship.”
Ben turned to look at her. “What?”
“This is the place we worship.” She walked forward and bowed down, her head to the earth, as a figure walked toward them.
“Mother.”
But it wasn’t Saba, it was his human mother.
Ben felt a kick of revulsion at the hollow-eyed woman before him. Why was Tenzin bowing down to her? It was wrong. All of it was wrong.