After a few minutes with nothing more being revealed, Ty thumbed through the rest of the pages, waiting, hoping for more. But there was no more. Only the one message to search the shop. Three more times through the book and he finally closed it.
The book had proven to be quite the enigma, beginning with its title. Hidden Perceptions. What did that mean, anyway?
Adarra had said—quoting from a dictionary she had read years ago—that the word perception meant to see, hear, or become aware of something using the senses. It was also a way of interpreting something. The word perception, Ty understood. If he saw a trunk with branches and leaves, he perceived it to be a tree.
“But what if you were a hawk, or a beetle, or even a cloud?” Adarra had said. “What would you perceive that trunk, branches, and leaves to be then? Our perception of something can change depending on who or what is perceiving it.”
That’s when Ty had stopped the conversation. His sister had a way of making simple things complicated. A tree was a tree. It didn’t suddenly become a table lamp just because someone else was looking at it. What he couldn’t quite grasp was the first part of the title: Hidden. What was hidden? How do you hide a perception? Didn’t Adarra say that the very definition of a perception was to become aware? If a person is aware, then how is it hidden? Does it mean that what they are aware of isn’t quite what they think?
He could feel pressure building in his head once more, and he pressed his thumbs to his temples and rubbed. The book had been revealing things to him, not hiding them. But maybe that was the purpose. Maybe what it did was show perceptions that were hidden from everyone else.
Breen turned over on the bed next to him and Ty froze, waiting for the ropes under Breen’s mattress to stop creaking. When they did, he slowly turned his head. His brother was facing the wall, with his back to Ty.
Ty felt another bit of buzzing, and he quickly reopened the book, turning to a random page somewhere in the middle. His eyes widened, heart pounding. Another message.
Go. Now.
There wasn’t much in the way of a hidden perception there.
He closed the book and stared at the blue-lit candle. He knew he shouldn’t go. The last thing he wanted to do was get dressed and ride all the way into town in the middle of the night. But if he didn’t, he was afraid of missing out on something important.
Scooting to the edge of his bed, he quietly pulled on his clothes, then grabbed his boots and headed for the door, not wanting to put them on and risk making any noise. Creeping down the hall and into the main room, he sat down on his father’s chair and pulled on his boots and knit hat and strapped on his dagger.
Once outside, he ran to the barn, saddled Waddle, and started for town.
It was a cloudless night. The stars were bright enough to urge Waddle into a fast trot, the cold night air pricking Ty’s throat with every inhale. Crossing over the East Bridge, he listened to the river below. It seemed to call out to him, warning him against what he was attempting to do. Or maybe it was just his own conscience getting the better of him. Despite both, he kept Waddle moving.
The streets of Easthaven were empty, the windows dark and shuttered. Waddle’s hooves clopped along, echoing off the surrounding buildings and emphasizing the loneliness Ty felt. They made their way slowly through the south merchant district to the center of town. Ty had never ridden through Easthaven at night by himself. As much as he hated walking through the city with the streets crowded with people, he cared for this even less.
Turning right on Wood Lane, they passed four or five buildings before stopping in front of the spice shop. The narrow streetway between the spice shop and the fuller’s was shrouded in darkness. Even the light from the streetlamp behind him seemed unwilling to reach any farther inside the passageway than the outer edge.
Ty nudged Waddle toward the alley, but the horse didn’t move. Finally, Ty hopped off and grabbed the reins.
“Come on, coward. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
Somewhere up the alley, a couple of cats hissed, and Ty yelped. He looked up at Waddle. “Sorry,” he said, tightening his grip. “Not being a very good example, am I?”
Waddle nickered.
Ty felt for the book in his jacket as he started forward. His ears were pricked, half expecting to hear the screech of one of those spiders as it leaped out of the darkness for him. Quickly, he reached out with his magic, but instead of sensing the creatures, he was greeted with something else. A warm, tingling sensation rushed through him. It wasn’t like the buzzing in his head he’d received from the book, more like an intense prickling across his entire body, deeper and more powerful. It felt like he’d just gotten over a good fright, where it took a minute or two to calm down. He held up his hand to see if it was shaking. It felt like his whole body was. He must be getting close to the barrier.
Waddle reared his head and pulled back, dragging Ty with him. Ty didn’t bother trying to change his horse’s mind. It was clear Waddle had enough good sense not to want to get too close.
Ty turned and waited for his eyes to adjust, but the moon hadn’t risen high enough over the buildings to help. Closing his eyes, he reached for his magic. He didn’t want to pull too much, so he concentrated on a small flame not much larger than the wick of a candle.
His magic responded, and a lick of blue fire ignited in the palm of his hand. Why was it always the palm? He released the flame and this time held up one finger, imagining the flame sitting on top. It immediately reappeared on the finger, from the first knuckle to just above the tip. Ty grinned with excitement at this new discovery. He’d have to show Adarra tomorrow. She always enjoyed seeing what he could do. And now that he had a little better control over it, he didn’t have to worry about setting his sister on fire.
It needed to be bigger. He released a little more magic, the warmth running through his arm and out to his finger, and the flame doubled in size. “Much better.” But he still needed more. He concentrated again, even harder this time as he focused on all five fingers. Sure enough, blue flame burst from the tip of each finger on his left hand.
Waddle leaned his neck over to inspect the light.
“What? You act like you’ve never seen blue fire before.”
Ty lifted his hand, illuminating the street between himself and Mangora’s shop. He couldn’t see the barrier, but he knew it was close. He could feel it. The hairs on his arms rose in the same way they would during the spring storms when the lightning would reach all the way to the ground, setting trees aflame.
He took a step back, not wanting to touch the barrier in the event it somehow alerted Orlyn.
“Well, now what? I’ve gotten this far.” He let go of Waddle’s reins and removed the book from his jacket pocket and looked at the cover. “I don’t know if this barrier would be considered a perception, but it’s definitely hidden.”
He snapped the clasp and flipped the book open to a random page. So far, the messages had appeared in different places. He didn’t think he had to be on any one specific page for it to work. “You wanted me here. Now what?” He felt silly talking to a book, but what other options did he have? “How do I take down a protection spell?”
Tares’ayden.
He shivered. Had the book heard him? He lowered it and cast a wary glance at the surrounding buildings. He suddenly felt as though he was being watched. If the book had heard him, what else had it heard? He’d been carrying it everywhere. Even the council meetings.
He didn’t know anything about the book, really, but he didn’t get the impression it was trying to do him harm. In fact, so far, it had been extremely helpful, showing him exactly what he needed. He took another deep breath and raised the book.
Memorizing the inscription, he cleared his throat. “Ter-rez—”
Another thought came to mind. Would releasing the barrier also trigger a warning to Orlyn? Or was that just in case someone tried breaking through it? He looked at the book, hoping for an answer, but other than the
word that was already there, nothing else appeared. He hated not knowing, but he’d come this far. He couldn’t stop now.
“Here goes nothing.” He concentrated on the barrier. “Ter-rez Ayden.”
Nothing happened. At least that he could see. He could still feel the tingling. “Why didn’t that work?” He reread the word, this time using a different pronunciation. “Tairs Ay-den.”
Still nothing.
He huffed and tried twice more.
Nothing.
“This is ridiculous. What’s wrong with this book?” He gritted his teeth, tempted to burn the stupid thing to ash. Maybe it wasn’t the book. Maybe it was him. What if he couldn’t wield the magic necessary for this spell? It would be like the wizard to create something that only one person could wield. But if that was the case, then why did the book want him here? He was going to give it one last chance. If it didn’t work, he was going home.
He read the word four times, trying to come up with a variation he hadn’t already used. Finally, he closed the book and turned to face the shop, raising his hand as he had seen Nyalis do back in Meerwood. “Tare-ess-aye-den.”
The ground beneath him shook, and the space between him and the shop sparkled a translucent gold. There it was. The barrier. It was as high as the rooftops, running only wide enough to cover the front of Mangora’s shop and none of the others. It was very similar to the one he’d seen in Meerwood. As swiftly as the wall had appeared, it dropped straight into the cobbles and vanished. And the tingling was gone.
Ty’s knees were shaking. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. It was the first time he’d used an incantation. So far, all he’d ever done was innate magic—magic that relied on elements in the physical world he could control. What other possibilities awaited him? He was anxious to find out.
Quickly, he guided Waddle up to the front of the shop and tied him off at the hitching post. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, giving the horse a stern look.
Waddle gave him a blank stare.
Another buzz in the back of his mind had him quickly opening the book. He brought the blue flame a little closer. A new message:
Su-eth-ee-un Do-won-ite.
This time, the incantation had been written phonetically. A chill shot through him. The book was listening? How else would it have known the difficulty he’d had with the last pronunciation?
Ty stopped at the walkway in front of the shop and turned. He glanced at Waddle. He couldn’t just leave him standing there. If he had alerted Orlyn, the first thing the apothecary would notice was Ty’s horse standing out front. “Idiot,” he said, berating himself for not thinking about it sooner.
Placing the book back in his pocket, he untied Waddle and started back up the side street, dousing his flames before reaching the end. Turning right on Wood Lane, he crossed Lynden Street and took the next available alley on the right, where he tied Waddle to a fat pickle barrel. “Sorry about this, boy. I’ll be back. I promise. Don’t make any noise while I’m gone.” He pulled out an apple he had intended to eat himself and left it on top of the barrel for Waddle to enjoy.
Back on Wood Lane, he scanned both sides of the street. Empty. He ran up the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows under the buildings’ weather overhangs and cut back down the next opening leading to Mangora’s.
Using his flame to see what he was doing, he pulled the book from his jacket and unhooked the clasp. Surprisingly, the same message that had shown up earlier was still there. He stopped at the front door and turned to look at the empty street.
Using the book’s pronunciation, he called out the incantation. “Suethian Duwanite.”
The ground shook beneath him, and the barrier burst from the stones below, surrounding the shop before vanishing altogether. The strong tingling sensation was back, letting him know the barrier was in place.
Ty opened the door and stepped inside. He stared at the cluttered shelves, the blue light leaving eerie shadows across each, making their contents seem even more dangerous. “Where do I start?”
He shut the door and headed straight for the books on the right, the one place he knew that had something he was interested in. He barely made it to the second row when he felt the buzzing sensation again, letting him know the book was trying to get his attention.
He stopped a few feet from the shelf of tomes and opened the book.
Upstairs.
Upstairs wasn’t exactly on his list of places he wanted to see, but the book hadn’t led him astray so far, so he left the books and headed toward the back of the shop, keeping his hand up to light the way. He slowed long enough to stare at the shrunken heads in the corner, then stepped around the counter to the closed door at the back. He pressed his ear against the wood to see if he could hear anything on the other side. He didn’t. Steadying himself, he turned the knob and pushed.
The door creaked slowly open until coming to a stop when it hit the right wall. Ty raised his hand and pulled a little more magic, and the flames extending from his fingers grew.
Surprisingly, the back room was nearly empty. He would have expected the storeroom to have stored more stuff. A table and chair on the left wall, a couple of shelves on either side filled with more knickknacks and curios. There was a door at the back on the right. It had to lead up to the second floor.
He crossed the room, the floorboards groaning under his boots, leaving him with an uncertain feeling. He remembered how scared he had been the first time he’d stepped into the shop and met Mangora, and how nervous he’d been returning with Breen. But here he was, back again, this time completely alone and in the middle of the night.
Something about this book was rubbing off on him, giving him the strength to do things he’d never thought himself capable of. He felt stronger. Braver. He just knew he was going to find what he was looking for, the one thing that could lead him to Mangora, or better yet, the very thing that could destroy her.
He opened the door. Sure enough, there was a set of stairs leading up.
The stairs were so steep, he couldn’t see the top, each step covered in a thick layer of dust at the sides. The centers were worn from use. He spared a quick glance back to the main room before heading up, leaving the door behind him open in case he needed to make a quick retreat if there was something up there that shouldn’t be.
The creaking of the wood under his boots kept him on edge as he let the blue flames guide his way. He stopped and spun, lifting his hand. He thought he’d heard something on the stairs behind him. There was nothing there. His heart was drumming. Pounding, really. Pull yourself together. He turned and started back up the steps.
Finally reaching the top, he paused to get his bearings. The entire building groaned around him, the floors and joists shifting ever so slightly as the cold evening air tightened the supports. The smell of age was strong, like rotten wood infested with mildew.
He turned and started down the corridor. It seemed to run from one side of the shop to the other, three doors spaced evenly on the right side, every ten or so feet. The walls ahead were covered in dust and webs. Traffic had been kept to the center of the floor, as the sides were completely blanketed in the stuff.
Another buzzing, and he stopped and opened the book. “Which way?”
Third door.
“Third door it is.” Ty continued until he reached the indicated room. It was shut like the others. Although, from the patterns in the dust on the floor around the door, and the semi-clean handle, it looked like it was the only room that had been used recently. He looked back down the hall, the blue light reaching as far as the stairwell. Empty. He took a deep breath and readied his flame in case he needed to use it. Tucking the book back in his pocket to free his hand, he opened the door.
It whined on its hinges, leaving behind another uneasy chill.
He raised his hand and peered inside. It was a bedchamber of sorts. Canopy bed on the right, dresser, large chifforobe in the corner, a desk littered with papers, and a standup shelf filled with ev
en more oddities. There were two windows on the wall in front of him, thick draperies hanging from each.
The room, even though apparently more used than the others, still gave him the feeling of neglect. The dust wasn’t quite as thick, but it was still there. The same musty smell clung to everything. He didn’t want to be up there any longer than necessary. “What now?” He pulled out the book and opened it. Right on cue, the words appeared:
Top-right desk drawer.
He crossed the room, leaving a faint trail in the dust along the way. The desk, like everything else, was old and worn, the wood’s color faded. He grabbed the brass knob for the top-right drawer and pulled. It slid open. There was a box inside, pewter, with crisscrossing lines decorating each side. He lifted it out of the drawer and placed it on the desk. The lid wouldn’t give. Either it had rusted shut or something else was holding it closed, like a spell.
He opened the book, this time to a different page.
Vera’Sintorum.
He looked at the box and concentrated, feeling the heat of his magic burn in his chest. “Vera’Sintorum.” The outer lip produced a faint green glow and was released with a soft click. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten the pronunciation correct on the first try. He took a moment to stare at the box. It seemed harmless enough. What was the book trying to show him? He hesitated, but only for a second. He hadn’t come all this way to stop now.
He opened the box slowly. Inside were three rows of rings, each one as unique as the next. Some were gold, some silver, some marble, stone, and even wood. Odd thing for a witch to carry around, he thought. She didn’t seem the kind of woman who cared much for jewelry. Ty doubted the rings would have even fit her knobby fingers.
He raised the book. The spell was gone, replaced with a new message:
Second row, third from top.
Ty’s brows lowered curiously, as that particular spot was the only one that didn’t have a ring. He looked at the instruction once again. Second row, third from top.
He scanned the entire second row. “There’s nothing here.” He glanced at the page. The book’s message never changed. Finally, he laid the book down on the desk and ran his finger down the second row. It hit something. “What’s this?” He grabbed hold of whatever it was and lifted it out, holding it close to his flames.
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