The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3)

by Garrett Robinson

  “He will not tell anyone. You may trust me.”

  She kissed his cheek and leaned back to keep rubbing his shoulders. “Then I will. In all things.”

  “The worst of it is that I cannot deny Kalem is right. He says I should have trusted him and told him what happened from the first. I think he is right. I should have. He would have believed in me—indeed, he has believed in me, but I have not returned the courtesy. And now I know not if he will ever place his faith in me again.”

  “You might be right. And I wish I had not advised you otherwise. It seems I was wrong about Kalem.”

  He reached back and took her hand. “It was not your fault. I did the deed, and so the blame is mine.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “We did it together. We share all consequence. But from what I have seen of Kalem, I think his mind will change. Your friendship will be stronger for it. No longer will you have to keep everything to yourself—and to me, of course.”

  He pushed himself up from the floor, taking his place on the bed beside her. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and spots danced at the edge of his vision as he clutched her hands. “There is one thing I have kept to myself all my life,” he whispered, afraid to meet her eyes, “but I gave it to you the moment I saw you. My heart.”

  For a moment she did not answer, and her hands went still. Inside, he winced, certain he had made a mistake. They had spoken easily of love for some time, but it had been a game to her, as it should have been to him. His cheeks burned, and now the thunder of his heart was a roar, savage and angry as an ocean storm.

  Their eyes met, and hers were shining. She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I have discovered myself feeling the same way,” she whispered. “And it is as surprising to me as anything ever has been in this life. Sometimes love springs forth unbidden, you said, and it has for me.”

  His hand covered hers on his cheek. “Adara …”

  Her mouth worked, the muscles in her jaw spasming. Then her words spilled in a rush, as though she wished to rid them from her mind. “Ebon, you may come to see me here behind the blue door—always, every day, if I had my way. Or we could see each other … elsewhere.”

  Ebon frowned. “In taverns and the like? I … I should love to do that again, if that is your wish.”

  Quickly she shook her head. “Not in taverns, Ebon. In my home. I do not mean … I do not mean as your lover, and you my client. I mean together. A binding of the heart, and not of coin.”

  The world froze about him. A voice in the back of his mind screamed lover’s words, lover’s words, and it sounded terribly like his father’s. But from the depths of his heart poured unadulterated joy, and it cast aside the shadows of Oren’s death and Lilith’s torment like the sun burning through the clouds.

  He fought for words. But he had been silent for too long, and Adara’s cheeks flooded with color. She rose from the bed and walked to the side table where a pitcher of wine waited, her hands shaking. “Forgive me,” she said, her words quivering and threatening to break. “It was a foolish jest—something I thought you wanted to hear. I know this is all a game, of course. I do. I—”

  Ebon went to her and, turning her by the shoulders, covered her mouth with his. They melted into each other, her fingers buried in his hair, and his arm pressing her tight against him. A long while that kiss lasted, an eternity, and when it ended it left them breathless.

  “It was not a game, Adara. It has never been, and it is not now. If I hid my words behind smiles and laughter, it was not because I thought them jests. I have been told of lover’s words, and felt sure you were only saying what I wished to hear. I did not mind—I never could, for you are a lover, and that is what I came for. But always I wished it could be real, though I felt sure it never would be.”

  She seized his robes, her grip fierce, a fire burning in her eyes. “It was. It is.”

  Then she pushed him back upon the bed, and no more words were spoken.

  It was a long while later before Ebon was ready to leave. He had certainly missed his curfew, but he would take any penalty gladly. As he cinched his belt over his robes, Adara gave him a final kiss. Ebon smiled as he looked over the room.

  “It is a strange thought that I will not see this room again—or at least, not so often.”

  “Mayhap I will bring you back here on occasion, for the memories if nothing else.”

  “I will send word when I can see you next.”

  “And I will tell you where to find me.” She smiled, a bit nervous, and clearly embarrassed. “It is strange, but I am anxious about showing you my home. It is senseless, considering how well we know each other in … other ways.”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of her brow. “I think I understand.”

  But then her eyes went wide, and she placed a hand on his chest. “I nearly forgot, for you were so solemn when you first arrived. Though I no longer know if it will be important. It concerned Lilith. Or rather, her family.”

  Ebon frowned. “The family Yerrin? What of them?”

  “Her kin were under investigation by the High King herself. It seems they were already under suspicion. Apparently some scion of the house was found to be in league with the Shades—a distant aunt of Lilith’s, I think. But Lilith’s actions worsened their standing further, and the clan meant to disown her parents. After what you have told me, it seems likely that is no longer the case, but still I meant to tell you.”

  “Thank you, but I suspect you are right. Now that Lilith has been proven innocent, the family Yerrin will doubtless be …”

  Ebon trailed off, for his mind had begun to race, and the nagging thought at the back of his mind had finally burst to the fore. Yerrin. Yerrin. He ran to the chair where he had put his shoes and pulled them on as fast as he could.

  “I must go at once. The lovers you speak with—they have seen Mako poking about the Seat, have they not?”

  “They have,” said Adara, frowning.

  “Please, please tell them—if they see him again, they must tell him to come visit me at the earliest opportunity. Tomorrow, if he can manage it. Tell him the usual place. He will know it.”

  “But—”

  “Do you understand?”

  “I do, my love. But why? What do you know?”

  Ebon leapt up and ran for the door. But just before leaving, he stopped to kiss her again. “Nothing yet. But with Mako’s help, mayhap everything.”

  Then he flew out the door and into the street, sprinting for the Academy.

  WHEN HE RETURNED TO THE Academy, Ebon was grateful that Mellie did not seem inclined to report his staying out past curfew. He supposed another murder lent perspective to what was truly important in the school.

  He went to seek Theren and Kalem. But Theren was still at the Yerrin manor, and Ebon guessed she would spend the night. Someone in the common room said Kalem had gone to bed. For a moment Ebon considered waking the boy, but at last decided against it. Kalem was already angry, and he would surely resent being roused.

  So he returned to his dormitory, but he found it impossible to sleep. Eventually he gave it up and went to the common room, where he sat by the fireplace and allowed his thoughts to spiral through his mind. Piece by piece he assembled a theory that explained all that had happened in the school thus far. Before he knew it, the blush of dawn seeped in through the common room’s high windows. He yawned and stretched, suddenly feeling the sleepless hours he had spent there. But sleep could wait.

  He sought Kalem in the dining hall and soon spied him among the press of students. When Kalem saw Ebon approaching, he turned the other way. But Ebon caught up and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Kalem. I must speak with you.”

  “I have no wish to do that, Ebon.”

  Ebon leaned in close. Kalem began to draw away, until Ebon whispered, “It is to find the murderer.”

  For a moment Kalem stood stock still. Then he looked into Ebon’s eyes. “Have you discovered who it is?”

  “I may have
, but I will need your help to be sure.”

  Kalem looked back and forth, clearly uncomfortable. “What do you need my help for?”

  “Not here. Will you meet me in the library this afternoon?”

  Again Kalem was still. Finally he nodded wordlessly, and then made off to eat breakfast alone.

  During his morning class, Ebon was a squirming ball of energy. He practiced shifting stone, and his counter-magic with Astrea. She was even more withdrawn and quiet than she had been before, but when Ebon saw it, he only gave a grim smile.

  Soon this will all be over, he promised her in his mind. Soon your nightmare will be behind you, and all of ours as well.

  He snatched a roll of bread during the midday meal, for he did not think his stomach would let him have anything more. After eating the roll, he made his way to the library and went straight to the third floor. First he went to the bookshelves and lingered there, hoping for Mako to arrive. But there was no sign of the bodyguard by the time the study period started. Ebon returned to his nook, where he found Kalem waiting.

  The boy sat with arms folded, and he looked at Ebon with suspicion. Ebon sat in an armchair and leaned forwards, clasping his hands between his knees. They looked at each other a long moment before Kalem sighed and turned his gaze.

  “You said you needed my help. Here I am. What is it?”

  “Who stands to gain from painting Lilith as a killer?”

  Kalem blinked, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “It hurts the reputation of the family Yerrin,” said Ebon. “And who is Yerrin’s greatest rival?”

  “The family Drayden. Your kin.”

  “Exactly.” Ebon scooted still farther forwards in his chair. “It must have been them. We know it was not—” He had been about to say Cyrus, but Kalem’s eyes hardened, and he skipped the word. “Well, we know it was not a wizard in the Academy, and we know it was not the family Yerrin. That seems plain, now that one child of Yerrin has been killed, and the other tortured into madness. Who is left?”

  Kalem shook his head. “We have already suspected this for some time. Nothing has changed.”

  Ebon raised a finger. “But something has. Theren had a piece of the truth, though she did not know it, nor did we. She believed Lilith was working under the control of mindwyrd. That, I think, is how my father and uncle did it. They fed a mentalist magestones and then used their mindwyrd upon Lilith, forcing her to steal artifacts and further increase their power. And by pinning the blame on her, they further weakened our rivals, the family Yerrin, and pointed all eyes upon them.”

  At first Kalem only pursed his lips, staring into the distance as he pondered Ebon’s words, until at last he gave a reluctant nod. “That seems possible. Entirely possible. Only, wait—with Lilith in jail, how did they arrange for Oren to be killed?”

  Ebon sighed. “That is the one piece I have not been able to put into place. A mentalist must have line of sight. That means they were in the room.”

  Kalem’s eyes widened. “Or in the hallway just outside. They would have been behind Oren after he entered, but we would not have seen them.”

  “Of course!” Ebon reeled in his seat. “That is the only thing that makes sense.”

  Kalem smiled, but his expression soon darkened, and he stared back into his lap. “Still, I do not think this knowledge will help. We will never be able to prove it.”

  But Ebon only smiled. “But that is just what is so urgent. Now that we have guessed at the only possible truth, I have a man who can help us prove it. Wait here.”

  He stood. Kalem looked at him quizzically, but Ebon waved a hand. “Please, I beg of you—stay seated until I summon you. I was wrong not to have faith, for you deserved all my trust and more. But now I mean to rectify the mistake.”

  Kalem settled back into his armchair, though he still looked suspicious. Ebon set off towards the shelves again and ducked between two so that Kalem was lost from sight. He waited, aimlessly scanning the shelves.

  “You are a brave boy, or a foolish one, to summon me as you did.”

  Ebon smiled and turned—but his smile faltered, for the bodyguard was uncomfortably close.

  “Thank you for coming.” Ebon took a half-step backwards. Thankfully, Mako did not follow.

  “What do you want? Be quick, for as it turns out, I am in the family’s employ, and that means I have real work that must be done.”

  “Yet what I have to tell you falls in with your duties,” said Ebon. “I believe it concerns Halab’s safety.”

  Mako straightened, one hand drifting to his dagger’s hilt. “That is a bold statement.”

  “It is one I make with every confidence. But you must wait here a moment, so I can bring my friend.”

  “No.” The word held a grim finality, and Mako’s nostrils flared. “That is not how I work—nor should you. Family matters remain in the family. To do anything else is folly.”

  “This is not only a family matter, for many Academy students lie dead. And he is my closest friend. I trust him with my life.”

  Mako sneered. “I might trust him with your life as well, but not with mine.”

  Ebon met his gaze without flinching. “I trust him with Halab’s life.”

  There was a long moment of silence, and then Mako rolled his shoulders. “Very well,” he growled. “Bring him.”

  Ebon went quickly to fetch Kalem, before Mako could change his mind. But when Kalem rounded the corner with Ebon and found Mako there, he balked and tried to run.

  “Kalem! Be still. He is one of my kin, and serves my family well. This is Mako—the one who warned me of the Seat’s attack.”

  That made Kalem pause, and he swallowed hard while eyeing Mako. The bodyguard, much to Ebon’s consternation, did nothing to ease the boy’s mind, looking him up and down like a wolf inspecting a rabbit.

  “Mako,” said Ebon, pressing on before either of them could say or do anything regrettable. “I think I have at last found a link between Shay and Matami and the Academy thefts. We now know that Lilith was blameless—she killed Vali only under another’s control, and may not have killed Credell at all. She stole the artifacts, but that was under mindwyrd as well.”

  “You speak with great certainty,” said Mako. “How do you know?”

  Ebon turned to Kalem. “Tell him the symptoms of mindwyrd.”

  The boy shrugged. “You know as well as I do, for Theren told us both.”

  Ebon shook his head. “I know nothing of magic. Not like you, Kalem. Please, tell him.”

  Kalem sighed. “Mindwyrd controls the body and the mind. As long as the mentalist maintains their control, by reestablishing it over the victim every day or so, no ill effects can be seen. But if that control slips, the victim will begin to show signs of madness. They will grow increasingly anxious, their eyes will show their insanity, and they often cannot sit still.”

  “That sounds very like Ebon,” said Mako, baring his teeth in a feral grin. “Are you recovering from mindwyrd, boy?”

  “Lilith showed these signs in the constables’ station,” Ebon said, ignoring the jest. “Oren showed them before he died. I even saw them in Credell. Kalem, do you remember how he came to Theren and asked her for the key to the vaults? That must have been under mindwyrd. I think Matami and my father did this, not to build an alliance with Yerrin, but to weaken them as rivals to our family. But they would need a mindmage. So I ask you, Mako: are there any mindmages in the family Drayden?”

  The bodyguard’s eyes had narrowed while listening to Ebon’s theory, but at the last question they shot wide. “There is,” he said slowly. “I spoke of him before: Drystan, a distant cousin of yours, who I have had no reason to suspect in any of this. Yet now that you bring him to mind, I recall something interesting: it seems he disappeared some months ago, off on some mysterious business for the family—or so Shay told me.”

  Ebon felt a thrill in his chest. “And where was he last seen?”

  “Hedgemond.” Beside Ebon, Kalem
gave a start, and Mako fixed him with a look. “Yes, little goldshitter. Your homeland. My work for our kin never carries me there, and so I had not paid much attention to this cousin’s disappearance.”

  “So?” said Ebon, trying not to look too eager. “You cannot deny that this rings with truth.”

  Mako’s frown deepened, and he stroked his chin with a thumb. “It may be something,” he said at last.

  Ebon broke into a grin, but he quickly composed himself. “What can we do? Can Halab intervene? Should we bring it to the constables?”

  “No,” Mako said. “Not that. Never. Halab may be able to act. But this is not enough evidence. We must find something irrefutable—something we can bring to her that will allow her to act without question. I know what will do the trick—but I shall need your help.”

  Ebon frowned. “What could you need my help with?”

  “We will need to sneak into a place without anyone knowing we were there. You can shift stone now, can you not?”

  Ebon shrugged. “I can shift it aside, but not put it back. Certainly I could not cover our tracks.”

  Mako moved so fast that Ebon’s mind took a moment to see it. By the time he knew what had happened, he was face down on the floor with Mako’s knee in his back. The man’s silver dagger was pressed to his neck, the tip tickling his jugular. Kalem opened his mouth to cry out, but Mako gave him a look of steel.

  “Breathe a word, and he dies,” he hissed.

  Kalem’s mouth shut with a snap.

  “What is this?” said Ebon, gasping from the pressure on his spine.

  “Shift the stone,” Mako growled.

  “What?” The dagger tickled harder. “What stone?” he cried.

  “The floor. Shift it. And I would advise you to be quick.”

  Ebon reached for his power, and the library grew lighter as his eyes began to glow. The floor rippled and twisted under his palm. The stone flew out from around his hand, creating an indent.

  “Now,” said Mako. “Put it back.”

  “I have told you, I cannot,” said Ebon. Mako’s grip tightened on his hair. “I swear! I have not learned it yet!” He was whimpering, but did not care.