I looked from him to Marissa. “I thought you both had power abilities? Isn’t that good news?”
Marissa bustled over, a frown on her face. “We thought so at first. But we tried it on several different volunteers, and it seems the person doing the unlocking needs to have equivalent or greater strength than the person bound by the neutralizer. Which means no one here is strong enough to release you. Not even the General himself can do it.”
“In fact,” Quirin said, his eyes on me. “I believe only one person in all the kingdoms could unlock you.”
“Cadence.” My eyes widened. “No wonder the General was furious when he only managed to capture me. My strength can’t do him any good bound in a neutralizer.”
“Aye, but it can’t do him any harm either,” Marissa said. “Which is a great pity for all of us.”
“So that just means I need to find a way to escape without my ability.” I tried to sound matter-of-fact and capable, but inside I felt sick.
Even with my ability, escaping would be difficult. The General himself could nearly match me with strength—as impossible as that should be—and several of his warriors were powerful mages. Without my ability, the task seemed impossible. Especially since the window of opportunity created by the absence of the attack party was rapidly closing.
Given the disappointing end to their experiment, there didn’t seem much point in further discussion. But we all stayed anyway—as much to satisfy Nan as anything. We sat around the table, drinking tea and rejecting every idea anyone suggested.
After a while no one had anything new to put forward, and Marissa gathered up our mugs, insisting that Nan stayed sitting while she washed them up. Nan ignored her, however, following her over to the small tub against the far wall.
“I’m no power mage,” I said while we waited. “But I thought it was impossible to store power. How is it that this…thing can do it?” I gestured toward the neutralizer strapped to me.
“It’s actually a seed,” Quirin said. “From the paser tree.”
“I’ve never heard of a paser tree. What’s so special about it?”
“Legend says it comes from beyond the northern mountains, past the nomad lands. But I have no idea of the truth of it. Whatever its origins, the tree has—or had, I should say—the unique trait of being able to store power.”
“A tree that can store power?” I stared at him. “How have I never heard of that?”
“I’m guessing the Tartoran kings didn’t spread the information wide given their mistake in cutting them all down.”
“It was a stupid thing to do,” Renley said, unexpected fury in his voice.
His father shot him a look of mild surprise. “It wasn’t wise, certainly. But greed seldom is.” He looked at me. “The Calistan kings were the only ones with access to the seeds. They grew a small grove of the trees in the palace walls, and after they had wooed all those with a power affinity to Calista, they began to store power within the trees. When the Tartoran and nomad kings rode in at the head of their combined army, they chopped every paser tree down. My grandfather always said their intention was to cart the logs back to their own kingdoms, thinking it would allow them access to the power inside.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t work that way?” I asked with foreboding.
“No,” Quirin agreed. “When the last tree came down, the power stored in all of them was released. There was healing, elements, and plants power, all mixed up together and directionless, and it exploded out across the kingdom. And it would have kept spreading further, if the old protections at the border hadn’t stopped it.”
“That’s where the wild power came from? You mean it had nothing to do with massacring the royal family?”
“That was just a convenient explanation to put the blame on the dead king, I’m guessing,” he said.
“There must have been an enormous amount of power in those trees.” I considered the desolation that had been wrought over an entire kingdom for nearly a century.
“You don’t invade a kingdom for a small amount of stored power,” Quirin said grimly.
“But even so, we think it’s more than that,” Renley said. “Mother had a theory, remember?” His voice hitched at mention of Dara, but he recovered and continued. “She always thought it was somehow multiplying. When the power broke free, it twisted and warped, and some aspect of that process has allowed it to feed off the land and grow stronger.”
I gulped. “So, after all this time, it might be stronger than the force which killed my grandfather?”
Quirin nodded, his brow creasing. “I wouldn’t recommend your sister attempt to wrestle with it.”
“No!” I shook my head, horrified. “I should think not!”
“There, that’s done.” Marissa returned, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll be back to visit tomorrow, Mother.”
We all stood, taking our leave of Nan and exiting in single file. We dispersed quickly, only Quirin staying at my side as we returned to our own cabin.
“So there are no paser trees left?” I asked quietly as we walked. “Which means no opportunity to make new neutralizers?”
“As far as I know, yes. Which makes it a great pity the General already has several of them.”
“A very great pity. Where did he get them?”
“From us.” Quirin grimaced, holding open our front door and gesturing for me to precede him. “One of our ancestors managed to grab a stash of them as they were all fleeing.”
“I don’t suppose they managed to take some paser seeds as well?” I asked. “I guess not, or the General would already be growing his own grove.”
“No, they didn’t. Although…”
“Although?” I looked at him expectantly.
After a moment’s hesitation, he continued. “I was surprised you didn’t know about the paser trees. Once when we were lads, your father boasted that he had a whole stash of the seeds, and that he would one day grow a power grove of his own.”
“Father had paser seeds?” I stared at him. “He never spoke of them to me.” I grimaced. “But that doesn’t mean much. There were far too many things he didn’t trust me with.”
“A pity. That means they’re lost, if they ever did exist.”
“But is it a pity?” I asked. “It seems like they caused a lot of trouble the first time around. Maybe it’s for the best they’re gone and no one can access any more neutralizers.”
“I’ll be more inclined to agree with you when the ones in the General’s possession are gone,” he said.
“Can Renley get his hands on all of them?” I asked.
“No.” Quirin spoke quickly, shaking his head emphatically. “Just getting one was dangerous enough. I would have forbidden him from trying if he hadn’t done it on his own without consulting us first. He just showed up with it one day.”
Beneath his irritation, he sounded pleased at his son’s daring and initiative. But clearly he wouldn’t permit us to ask Renley to repeat the feat. And I could understand his concern. Stealing one might go unnoticed, but it would be a different thing to take or destroy them all.