Heir of Troy: The Third Son Chapter 40: What Cassandra Cannot See

She ca to the library.

Not unusual — she ca to the library often. But this ti she did not bring a tablet. She ca in and sat in her position and looked at her hands and did not read.

He had been there for an hour when she arrived. He was working through the eastern route reports — the latest batch, thinner than the previous ones as Ampelos’s modified reporting protocol continued. He was tracking three specific points in the interdiate markets where the compression was most visible.

He put the tablet down when he noticed she had no tablet.

He waited.

She said: *"I need to tell you sothing."*

*"Tell ."*

*"It is not — a vision. It is the absence of one."*

He said nothing. He had learned to let her find her own way to things.

She said: *"You know how I see. Things that are going to happen — they have a quality. A presence. So things are clear. So things are probable. So things are far away and indistinct. But they are there. They have weight."*

*"Yes."*

*"There is sothing I cannot see."*

*"What kind of sothing."*

*"Sothing that should be there. Sothing large enough that I should be able to feel its weight from here, the way you can feel the presence of a storm before it arrives. I can feel the edge of it. I cannot see the shape."*

He sat with that.

*"When did you first notice the absence,"* he said.

*"Three weeks ago. I thought it was — an artifact. A gap in attention. I have been looking at it every day since. It is consistent. The absence is consistent."*

*"Where is it. What direction. What ti."*

*"Not far. Not years. The edge of what I feel — it is within the range of the next season. Perhaps two. It is large. And it is — wrong. Not wrong in the way that things I see are wrong when they are bad. Wrong in the way that sothing is wrong when it does not fit the pattern around it."*

*"Like sothing that was not supposed to happen."*

*"Or sothing that was supposed to happen differently."*

He looked at the tablets on the floor around him. The route reports. The supply numbers. The dical data that Antiphus updated monthly. The harbor construction progress from Daidalos. The school attendance from Arsini.

He had been building a picture for almost a year. The picture had a shape. He knew the shape.

Sothing in the next season or two that did not fit the pattern.

He said: *"Is it connected to the Greek world."*

She thought.

*"I cannot tell. The absence is — clean. Not surrounded by the texture of specific events the way most things are. It sits alone."*

*"Is it connected to what you see about Hector."*

A longer pause.

*"No,"* she said. *"What I see about Hector is unchanged. This is different. Separate."*

*"Is it a threat to Troy."*

*"I do not know. I cannot see it. I can only feel that it is there and that it is large and that it does not fit."*

He looked at the window.

The afternoon light was moving across the floor in the specific way of late autumn — lower angle, longer shadows, the season changing in ways that were visible in the quality of light before they were visible in the temperature.

He said: *"Have you ever had this before. An absence."*

*"Once,"* she said. *"When I was twelve. A large absence. I felt it for two months before it arrived."*

*"What was it."*

*"A ship that should have arrived from the eastern trade routes. It did not arrive. The absence I felt was the space where the ship should have been in the pattern of things — and then it was not there because it had sunk in a storm three weeks before I started feeling the absence."*

*"So the absence was a thing that had already happened. You were feeling its effect on the pattern before you understood what the cause was."*

*"Yes."*

He sat with that.

*"Sothing may have already happened,"* he said. *"Sothing we do not know about yet. Sothing large enough that its absence from the pattern is visible to you before the information reaches us."*

*"That is my best understanding. Yes."*

He thought about the route reports. The information that moved through trade networks and guest-friendship letters and rchant ships — it was weeks old by the ti it arrived. Sotis months.

Sothing large had happened sowhere.

They did not know about it yet.

*"The eastern routes,"* he said.

*"Possibly."*

*"The Greek world."*

*"Possibly."*

*"Or sothing closer."*

*"Possibly."*

He looked at her.

She was sitting with her hands still in her lap. The specific stillness she had — not the stillness of soone who was calm, the stillness of soone who had been sitting with sothing uncomfortable for three weeks and had developed the discipline not to move around it.

He said: *"You sat with this for three weeks before coming to ."*

*"I wanted to be sure it was real. Not a gap in attention."*

*"And now you are sure."*

*"Yes."*

*"Why co to now."*

She looked at him.

*"Because it is getting louder,"* she said. *"The absence. The edge of it. Three weeks ago it was a small disturbance. This week it is — significant. The weight of it is increasing, which ans whatever caused it is either growing or getting closer."*

*"Or we are getting closer to it."*

*"Yes. That too."*

The library was quiet around them. The palace sounds — distant, ordinary, the continuous life of a city that did not know what its prophetess was not seeing.

He said: *"I am going to increase the information gathering. Fylon has contacts in the harbor — every ship that cos in, I want to know what news it carries before it goes to the official reporting. Not just the cargo manifests. The conversation. What the sailors heard."*

*"Yes."*

*"And Ampelos’s eastern network. I will ask him to increase the frequency of his reports from the interior contacts."*

*"Yes."*

*"Is there anything else you can tell about the direction. The source."*

She thought for a long ti.

Then she said sothing that was not what he had expected.

*"It feels like sothing ending,"* she said. *"Not a catastrophe. An ending. The way a fire feels different from a candle going out — both are the absence of light but the quality is different. This feels like a candle going out sowhere important."*

Sothing ending.

He sat with that for a long ti.

Sothing ending in the next one or two seasons. Sothing large. Sothing that did not fit the pattern around it. Felt from the outside like a candle going out.

He did not have enough information to know what it was.

He said: *"Tell if it changes. If the quality shifts or the direction becos clearer."*

*"Yes."*

*"And Cassandra."*

She looked at him.

*"Thank you for telling ."*

She was quiet for a mont.

She said: *"You are the only person I tell things to who does sothing with them."*

She said it flat and factual. Not as a complaint about everyone else. Just as a thing that was true.

*"I know,"* he said. *"I will keep doing sothing with them."*

She picked up nothing — she had brought nothing — and stood.

She said: *"The absence. It does not feel hostile."*

*"That is sothing."*

*"But it does not feel safe either."*

*"Most significant things do not."*

She went out.

He sat in the library alone.

He thought about a ship that had sunk three weeks before Cassandra felt its absence. He thought about what was large enough and important enough that its absence would distort the pattern of things visible to her.

He did not know.

He picked up the eastern route report he had been reading and looked at it with different eyes.

*What are you not telling ,* he thought. *What has happened that I do not know about yet.*

He added three items to his shard: increase harbor intelligence, increase Ampelos report frequency, review all incoming correspondence for anomalies in the past two months.

He counted words automatically.

Eight hundred and thirty-eight.

*Keep going.*