The next four stations were for battle magic—one for defensive and three for offensive.
The instruction Valtor had received from Nyalis before the wizard had walked away had proven invaluable when Valtor began to train his bulradoer. Most of his own apprenticeship with Nyalis had been spent studying the rudimentary elements of magic. Even after being sent away, Valtor had been able to take those elements and build on them, though some refinement by trial and error had been necessary.
Valtor’s abilities, however, were mere child’s play compared to the magic he had discovered within Aerodyne’s grimoires, but that magic was for his eyes alone.
A high-pitched scream from the fifth station had Valtor skipping the other stations to see what had happened. By the time they pushed through the crowd, a young woman had been completely engulfed in flame. The bulradoer in charge of the station seemed unwilling to help and stood to the side, signaling to the others to stand back. It wasn’t until the woman had fallen to the ground that the instructor conjured a blanket of air to quench the fire. The bulradoer called for a healer, and a young man pushed through the onlookers. He knelt beside the badly charred woman and laid his hand on her back. Her darkened skin slowly regained normal color.
“We make sure not to give aid too quickly,” their guide said. He looked proud. “We find it forces our recruits to think before they act. Those who earn their robes will be worthy of them, I assure you.”
“The principle is sound,” Valtor said, “but we can’t afford to lose any of our wielders. Make sure they have proper mastery of the basics. I don’t want to find we have lost a quarter of our numbers due to negligence.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Valtor tapped his fingers on the head of his cane. “I can see you have things well in hand.” He turned for the stairs. “How soon until this first batch might be ready for testing?”
The bulradoer thumbed his chin. “I’d say as early as spring, Your Grace.”
Valtor stopped. “Not sooner?”
The man licked his lips nervously. “Well, no, Your Grace. There is a process involved in order to break them down so that they can be molded back the way that we need them to be. That takes time, I’m afraid. To hurry that along could result in creating bulradoer who, instead of following orders, might decide that thinking for themselves is more important.”
Valtor nodded. “I’m sure their training will be put to the test soon enough.”
“Of course, Your Eminence. We look forward to the challenge.”
Valtor, feeling adequately impressed by their progress, left the bulradoer to his work and headed for his chambers and some much-needed rest. His vigilant apprentice trailed behind him in silence.
Chapter 54 | Ty
“I’M TELLING YOU, someone was in there,” Orlyn said, leaning forward in his seat. He glanced around the table at the members of the council. Not all the members were present.
Ty noted Gilly was absent, as well as Reloria. She apparently hadn’t had enough notice to find someone to watch her shop. Sheeva was also not in attendance. At least, Ty didn’t think she was. With her, you never knew. He reached out with his magic to see if he could feel her presence, though he wasn’t exactly sure what Sheeva’s magic felt like. The only time he’d used his magic in that way was to search for Mangora and her spiders.
Breen was there, but Adarra had stayed behind to keep working her way through the books on the Tallosian language that Overlord Barl had found in his library.
“How do you know someone was there?” Veldon asked. He was in his usual seat at the head of the table, handkerchief clutched in his right hand. “I thought the wizard gave you a protection spell for the building. How could someone get in?”
“I don’t think it’s made to keep people out. I think it’s more to alert us of when someone goes in.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how it happened. I just know what I felt. The barrier came down, and a little while later, it went back up. That’s when I got Feoldor to come help me take a look.”
Feoldor yawned. “Don’t remind me. I lost an entire night’s sleep for nothing.”
“Nothing?” Orlyn glared down the table.
“Yes, nothing. There was no one there.”
Ty grinned but quickly wiped the expression from his face. He was still amazed at how he had managed to get into the witch’s shop and back out without being spotted. If it hadn’t been for the book, he wouldn’t have made it through the front door. He spun the glass ring around his finger, making sure he kept his hand under the table so his father, who was sitting next to him, didn’t see.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Orlyn said. “But one thing’s for sure. Someone had been there, and recently.”
“How do you know?” Ty’s father asked. “Other than you believe the shield went down for a while.”
Ty leaned forward. Yes. How could they know? He had been careful not to leave any clues. There were far too many footprints on those dusty floors to think they had been made by anyone recent. Had they seen him from one of the upper windows when he made a break down the alley?
“We could smell it,” Orlyn said, causing Fraya, and even Breen, to chuckle.
“Smell it?” Veldon wiped his forehead with his kerchief.
“There was smoke. Something on the second floor had been burned.”
Ty bit his tongue. Idiot.
“Don’t worry. They won’t know it’s you.”
Ty raised his head. “What?”
Orlyn turned and looked at him, drawing the others’ attention as well. “Did you have something to add?”
Ty winced. That stupid ring was going to get him caught. He was having a hard time telling what was real and what was in his head. “You said that something on the second floor had been burned. I was just wondering what.”
“Part of the doorframe from one of the bedchambers was singed.”
“How could you tell it was recent?” Breen asked. “Could it have been done before you set up the barrier?”
Feoldor grunted. “I think we can tell the difference between a week-old piece of charred wood and one cooked within the last few hours.”
“Could the witch still be around?” Fraya asked, sounding nervous.
Orlyn glanced at Feoldor, and Feoldor glanced at Ty’s father, who seemed in turn to be staring at the table.
“I hope not,” Orlyn finally said.
Veldon leaned forward with a grunt. “One thing’s for sure: We need to move her stuff out of that shop and somewhere safe. If she is still around, we don’t want her getting her hands on anything she can use against us.”
“Make sure you keep an eye on where they take it,” the book said through the ring.
“I will,” Ty mumbled.
Ty’s father glanced his way briefly, then to Veldon. “We will be joining Barl this afternoon at the barracks. Adarra is going to attempt to communicate with our Northman prisoner.”
“You need to be there,” the book said.
This time, Ty didn’t respond. I will be. He didn’t know if the book could actually hear his thoughts, but it was worth a shot.
“Let us know how it goes,” Veldon said. He glanced around the table. “If there’s no other business—”
Ty cleared his throat. “When do you plan on moving the witch’s stuff?”
Veldon looked at Orlyn, and Orlyn shrugged.
“I’m not sure,” the apothecary said. “We still need to inventory the shop.” He looked at Ty. “We’ll let you know.”
“He’s lying,” the book said.
Ty looked at Orlyn, and Orlyn offered an awkward smile. It was a smile Ty wasn’t familiar with. Orlyn’s smiles were usually so warm and friendly, almost affectionate. But this one was halfhearted at best. He spun the glass on his finger. The book was right.
They were lying.
Ty left the meeting feeling worse than when he’d arrived. What else were they keeping from him? It was a question he pondered all the way to the East Inn. His fa
ther decided to stop for lunch before meeting with Barl, and Fraya tagged along to spend more time with Breen.
“Are you feeling all right?” Ty’s father asked him, slowly stirring the pieces of meat around in his bowl.
The stew wasn’t quite as thick today, which Ty was grateful for. It meant it hadn’t been sitting out for hours before being served. It did, however, have a strong peppered taste, which usually meant that Noreen Aboloff had been in charge of food preparations that morning instead of her husband. Strong or not, the heat rising from the bowl was a welcome relief from the chill outside.
“I’m fine,” Ty said, sifting through his bowl for the long, stringy pieces of onion he didn’t like to eat. He found another and dropped it on his plate.
His father slowly turned his cup. “You looked distracted during the meeting. Is it the witch?”
“Why does everyone want to keep me from knowing when they’re moving her stuff?”
His father set his cup down. “No one wants to keep—”
“Every time I ask about it, someone changes the subject.”
“Like Veldon said, they still need to inventory the place, and that could take a while. Besides, you heard Orlyn; they’ll let us know when they’re ready.”
“Where are they taking it?” the book asked.
“I don’t know,” Ty mumbled under his breath. He looked up at his father. “Where do you think they’ll take it?”
His father shook his head. “It hasn’t been determined. You seem awful curious. Is there something we need to know?”
“Just wondering.” He was going to need to keep his eye on the shop to make sure they didn’t move what was inside without telling him. He really wanted to get his hands on those books.
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, where everyone seemed to be doing nothing more than stirring the soup in their bowls, his father finally pushed his seat back from the table. “I think we’ve done about as much damage to this stew as we’re going to.” He stood, dropped a couple of coppers on the table, and headed for the door.
Ty stood to follow, but Breen grabbed his arm. “Wait a moment.”
His brother whispered something to Fraya, and she left the two of them and followed their father out the door.
“What was that all about?” Breen asked.
Ty pulled his arm free. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you so interested in Mangora’s shop?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not? That’s all you could talk about during the council meeting. And what’s with that book?”
“What book?”
“The book in your jacket pocket. Don’t think I don’t notice you up reading it at all hours of the night.” He glanced around the room, then leaned in. “I’ve even heard you . . . talking to it.”
Ty chuckled nervously. “That’s stupid. Why would I be talking to a book?”
“I don’t know. You’re not acting yourself.” He glanced at Ty’s coat. “What’s it about, anyway?”
“It’s not about anything. It’s blank.”
Breen stared at him a moment, then, with lightning speed, grabbed the front of Ty’s coat.
Ty fought back, attempting to shove his brother’s arm away, but it was like wrestling a bull. Breen’s arms were twice the size of his, and despite how hard Ty struggled, his brother managed to pry the book free.
“Give it back, Breen!”
Breen ignored him and opened it.
A sharp pain lanced through Ty’s head. What was that?
“Get the book!” the book commanded through the ring.
Ty lunged for it, but Breen held him off as he continued flipping through the pages.
“What is this? There’s nothing here.”
The pain in his head was growing more intense. “I told you. Now give it back. Give it to me!”
Breen closed the book and read the cover. “Hidden Perceptions. What does that mean?”
Ty finally managed to snatch the book from his brother’s grip, and the aching subsided. By the time he managed to get it back in his pocket, he was panting. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Why did his brother care so much about the book?
“What’s wrong with you?” Breen asked, looking at Ty like he’d lost his mind. “There’s nothing there. Why in the world would you be up so late, reading an empty book? You need to get rid of that thing.”
“I don’t see you getting rid of your bow.”
“You also don’t see me talking to it, do you?”
Ty didn’t bother responding. He turned and stormed out of the inn. Why was Breen so upset about the book?
“He wants me for himself.”
Ty buttoned his jacket against the cold gust moving down the street. He noticed Adarra waiting quietly on Thistle, her cloak pulled around her body. She must have just ridden over from Overlord Barl’s estate, her satchel filled to the brim with books. She waved, and Ty nodded in return, trying to hide his anger as he untied Waddle from the post.
Ty swung into the saddle and pulled Waddle alongside his father as they waited for Breen and Fraya to say their goodbyes.
“Will I see you later this week?” she asked.
“Of course,” his brother said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Give your father my best.”
“I will.” She climbed onto her horse and headed up the street.
“Time to go,” Ty’s father said, and none too soon. Ty’s teeth were already beginning to chatter.
Ty kept alongside his father as they rode west toward the Sidaran barracks, still plagued with questions that needed answering.
Before he knew it, he was guiding Waddle through the barracks’ north gate. He caught himself spinning the glass ring with his thumb. He wasn’t used to wearing jewelry.
In front of him, his father steered Your Highness toward the main building. Adarra offered Thistle a gentle nudge, and the mare trotted along behind. Breen brought up the rear.
The barracks was swarming with activity. Green-and-gold uniforms filled the open yard, making it difficult to direct their horses. Near the south gate, Ty spotted groups of armed men training in pairs. They went through what appeared to be routine battle tactics with their swords and shields, and some with polearms. In the back was an archery range with a line of lancers waiting for a turn at the bow.
Breen was eyeing the range as well.
Ty dismounted in front of what looked like the main barracks building, taking a moment to tie Waddle to the rail. He was anxious to get inside and question the Northman.
Apparently, the only useful piece of information Overlord Barl had gathered from the big savage was his name: Jonas. Ty hadn’t seen the Tallosian during their battle—other than his unconscious body tied in the corner of their home during their fight with the spiders—but he had heard the story of how Adarra had gutted the man’s comrade with one of their father’s sickles.
No one had heard Tallosian speech for nearly a hundred years, and even with the smattering of ancient books on the topic, hidden within the dusty shops of Easthaven’s booksellers, it would have taken years for someone to relearn. Well, it would have taken years for most people. Not his sister.
Still, there was only one piece of information that Ty wanted from the Tallosian: the whereabouts of Mangora.
He waited as his father helped Adarra unload her overflowing satchel from Thistle and carry it up the stairs to the front. Ty could see the tops of books peeking out from beneath the satchel’s loose flaps.
The guards stationed at the door didn’t move. Ty thought he saw them glance his way, but he wasn’t sure. He patted the top of his head to make sure Orlyn’s cap was still covering his white hair. It was.
“Ah, Kellen, thank you for coming.” Overlord Barl stepped out from one of the back hallways to greet them.
“Happy to be of service, my lord.”
“Barl,” the overlord corrected. “Barl.”
“Of course.” Ty’s father smil
ed. “Old habits.”
The overlord turned to Adarra. “I see you brought our young scholar with you. Good.”
Adarra smiled and curtsied.
“And Ty, it’s always good to have your talents available,” Barl added.
“Glad to be of service.” Ty bowed. Enough with the niceties. It was time to talk to the Northman.
“We’ve barely gotten two words out him,” Barl said. “He did allow us to see to his wounds but not much else. Other than his name, the only thing he’s said that we could make sense of is something about a ‘spotted warrior.’ Apparently, he will speak with no one else.”
For a brief moment, Ty wondered if he could have been referring to him, but Ty had kept his shirt sleeves down during the battle.
“Even if we knew who this person was, it’s pretty unlikely they would have any better luck at understanding the savage than we did, which is unfortunate considering my upcoming meeting with the other overlords. I was hoping to have some information for them concerning this incident.”
“We’ll do our best,” Ty’s father said.
Barl looked at Adarra. “I’ll be grateful for any assistance you can give. I know it won’t be easy facing him again.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a very brave young woman, my dear. You have your mother’s determination. I know she would be very proud.”
Adarra smiled. “Thank you.”
“Have you been able to look through any of the books I sent you?”
“I have.” Adarra kept her hands folded at her waist. “However, I’ve only made it through a couple of the tomes.”
Only a couple? He thought his sister more capable than that. What had she been up to this whole time?
“The phrasing is old,” she said, “and it’s taking some time to translate. I only have a very basic knowledge at this point. Their form of communication is rather”—she pursed her lips—“different.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, they don’t rely entirely on verbal speech as we do. They incorporate their entire body into their communication. Hand gestures, facial expressions, indistinct noises, even the way they are standing could be used in portraying some deeper meaning behind what they are trying to communicate. It’s kind of beautiful in its design.”
Plague of Shadows Page 40