It was a ring. One made completely of glass. He could see right through it. He felt the buzzing once again and glanced down at the open book on the desk.
Put it on.
He felt a tingling sensation in the back of his neck. This time it wasn’t from the book or the barrier. It was his own common sense. “Why? What will it do?” He turned the ring over with his fingers. There were no markings of any kind, no indication as to what would happen to him if he put the ring on. He reached out with his magic to stroke the ring and received a minute tingling in return. It was clearly magical. He just had no way of knowing in what way.
Laying the ring down, he closed the box and placed it back in the desk and shut the drawer. He picked the ring back up. It was made for more petite fingers than his, but it looked like it might fit on his smallest. What did he have to lose? He’d come there looking for something to use against Mangora, and the book had led him to this ring. It hadn’t lied to him so far, and at this point, he couldn’t think of a good-enough excuse to not try. But still, there was something in the back of his mind that told him this might not be the best idea.
He huffed. Staring at the ring was getting him nowhere. He had to make a choice. “Here goes nothing.”
Something scurried across the floorboards behind him, and he spun and threw a ball of fire. The flames hit the right side of the doorframe, leaving a large scorch mark in the paint. “What was that?”
The noise sounded again, this time near the bed. He raised his hand and spotted a rat running behind the bed stand. He almost laughed. The shop was getting to him. Shaking his head, he walked over and doused the cinders still burning on the wall he’d just attacked. He’d barely smothered the last of the flame when the book buzzed once more. He crossed the room to see what it wanted. Probably to demand he put the ring on.
They’re coming.
“Who’s coming?” Suddenly, he noticed the constant tingling from the barrier outside was gone. Quickly, he stuffed the book and the ring in his jacket pocket and left the room. He closed the door and headed down the hall for the stairs. With one last look over his shoulder, he started down.
Ty could feel the book buzzing, but he didn’t have time to stop. He tripped and skidded down three steps before catching himself. He left the stairwell and dashed across the back room for the main part of the shop. He wanted to stop and grab a couple more books on the way out, but he didn’t have time. Instead, he headed straight for the door. He grabbed the handle and stopped.
There were voices just outside.
He peeked through the shutter. It was Orlyn and Feoldor. Blazes! Lowering the barrier must have warned them after all. What was he going to do? There was no way to talk himself out of this one. He was clearly where he shouldn’t be, and how could he ever explain getting past the barrier?
He looked around. There was nowhere to hide. Frantically, he ran for the back. The buzzing from the book was intensifying. He reached the storeroom and quickly opened the book, using his flame to read by. “Where can I hide?” He was half tempted to run upstairs and join the rat under Mangora’s bed.
Trapdoor on your right. Quickly!
What trapdoor? The bell to the front door rang, and the voices grew louder as the two council members walked into the shop. He extinguished the flame as much as possible, keeping a single finger lit as he scurried across the floor. He could have kicked himself for not shutting the door leading out to the shop. Where is it? His hand found a groove between the boards right in front of the table, and he pulled. Please don’t make noise.
He could hear footsteps crossing the shop, the muffled voices growing more distinct as they headed straight for him. He quickly pulled the hatch the rest of the way open and slipped in. Orlyn stopped outside the storeroom, and Ty lowered the trapdoor.
“There’s no one here, Orlyn. You woke me for nothing.”
“I’m telling you, I know what I felt. The barrier came down and then went back up. Someone was here. Or maybe still could be. Keep your eyes open.”
“That’ll be difficult,” Feoldor grumbled with a yawn, “considering I’m still half-asleep,”
Ty twisted to find a more comfortable position, and one of the boards creaked.
“What was that?” Orlyn rushed into the room, his staff glowing a pale green in front of him. Ty could see the runes between the floorboards. Feoldor must have been carrying a lantern, because a sudden wash of amber light poured through the cracks.
Ty held his breath.
“There’s nothing here, you old fossil. You woke me in the middle of the night for this?” Feoldor stepped directly on the trapdoor, the boards bending under his weight, raining dust down on Ty’s head.
Ty pinched his nose.
Orlyn walked over to the shelf on the far wall and began rummaging through the curios. “To be honest, I was half expecting to find Ty in here. The way he’s been acting lately, I wouldn’t put it past him to try sneaking in here again.”
Feoldor stepped off the trapdoor and walked over to join Orlyn in searching the shelves. “He has been acting a touch odd these days,” he agreed, “but what boy wouldn’t after losing his mother like that?”
Ty wasn’t sure which to be more shocked at. The council members talking about him behind his back or the fact that it was Feoldor who stood up for him.
“Still,” Orlyn said. “Something about the boy has changed. He’s angrier. He would have never raised his voice the way he did during our last meeting. It’s not like him to openly rebuke the council that way. I’m worried about him.”
Ty balled his fists.
“He’s in a dark place,” Feoldor said. “With everything he’s been through, I’m not surprised.”
“True, but we can’t afford to have him remain there. With powers like his, there’s no telling what could happen.”
Ty couldn’t believe the way Orlyn was talking. He thought he had a special connection with the older man. It looked like he was wrong. Goes to show you can’t trust anyone.
Orlyn started across the room. “Let’s check upstairs.”
Ty could hear the creaking of the steps as the two men headed up to the second floor.
He waited till he could hear them moving down the hall before opening the trapdoor. He crawled out and carefully closed it, listening to see if he could hear what the two were doing. He could hear them arguing but couldn’t tell what about, so he rushed out the door and across the shop. He opened the front door just wide enough to slip through without catching the bell.
Orlyn’s and Feoldor’s horses were tied to the hitching rail outside. He was tempted to turn them loose and let the men walk home, but it would have definitely given away that someone was there. He glanced at the street beyond. Was the barrier still up? He couldn’t feel the tingling. They must not have raised it when they entered.
Instead of heading straight out into the street and risking being spotted by either of the men from one of the upper windows, Ty made his way down the front of the shops. At the end of the walkway, he lifted his hood and stepped out of the shadows, heading for the main road. He didn’t dare turn, in case someone was looking. Hopefully, all they’d see was a figure moving up the street.
As soon as he hit Wood Lane, he turned right and ran for the next building down past the fuller’s and cut into the narrow passage on his right. Waddle was standing right where he’d left him. The apple was gone.
Ty was still shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was from the fear of getting caught or from what he had heard. And they wondered why he was angry. The buzzing in his head was back, and he opened the book.
Use the ring. It will guide you.
Ty reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring. His previous apprehension was now gone, replaced with anger and disappointment. He’d come to the shop in the first place to find something to use against Mangora. This had to be it.
Putting aside any last vestige of warning, he slid it on.
Nothing seemed to happen. Then he fel
t a prickling in the tip of his small finger. And it grew. It rushed from one knuckle to the next until it reached his hand and spread outward from there, driving up his arm and eventually into his chest. His arm was as white as a three-day-old corpse. Whatever it was doing, he couldn’t stop it. His entire body went cold. He’d never felt cold like this before. It was colder than what he’d felt the time he had been dared to jump into the East River in the middle of Zùl.
Ty grabbed the pickle barrel in front of Waddle to keep from pitching over on his face as the alley began to spin. A moment later, it stopped. The dizziness passed and the heat rushed back in. “What was that?” He lifted his hand. His fingers seemed back to normal. The slight distortion of his small finger when he looked directly at it let him know the ring was still there. If not looking for it, though, most would probably never see it.
He pulled out the book. He wanted answers.
“I’m here to help.”
Ty jumped with a yelp, startling Waddle, who let out a harsh snort.
“Who’s there?” Ty looked down the alley, at least as far as the streetlight would let him. He couldn’t see anyone. “Show yourself.”
“Open the book.”
Ty spun around. There was no one there. The voice was strange, neither male nor female, somehow a mix of both. Distorted, but understandable.
He glanced at the open page on the book and read: Open the book.
His heart was pounding. Had the book just spoken to him? He swallowed. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” the voice said at the same time the word Yes appeared on the page.
His heart was pounding. He could hear the book, but not with his ears. It was more like a voice in the back of his mind. He lifted his hand. Was that what the ring was for?
“Yes.”
His eyes widened even farther. You can hear my thoughts?
“Yes.”
He gulped. What are you?
“I’m a guide. I’m here to show you what you need, whether you know it or not.”
“Is that what it meant by hidden perceptions?” He almost closed the book to look at the cover but changed his mind. He was afraid to shut it, in case the voice stopped.
“In a way.”
Ty bounced from one foot to the other, too excited to even know where to begin. This was exactly what he’d been looking for. He had so many questions.
“All in good time,” the book said. “But for now, I think it’s time we leave.”
Ty felt the sudden tingling sensation of the barrier going back up. The book was right. He needed to get out of there before Orlyn and Feoldor spotted him.
Quickly, he stuffed the book back in his pocket, untied Waddle from the barrel, and swung onto the saddle. He flicked the reins and rode out of the alley, but instead of turning left toward River Street and taking the chance of passing Orlyn and Feoldor, he turned Waddle right and circled around another way.
He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to being caught.
The farther he went, the more Orlyn and Feoldor’s conversation nagged at him. Did the rest of the council distrust him as well? Which led him to wondering why they were so intent on keeping Mangora’s shop out of his reach. Orlyn had looked more worried than surprised when he’d seen Ty and Breen in there the first time. Were they purposely hiding something from him? If so, what? And more importantly, why? He didn’t like to think that the council was keeping secrets from him, but after what he’d seen and heard, what else was he to think?
“Can you really trust them?” the book asked.
It should have been an easy question to answer, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure. They’d been hiding things from him his entire life: who he was, where he’d come from, the Tower’s desire to have him. His family hadn’t even told him of their role in the wielder council until a couple of months back.
He had a lot of thinking to do. He spun the glass ring with his thumb. This time, he hoped to find some answers.
“I told you, I’m always here to help.”
Chapter 49 | Lenara
“WE’RE LOST . . . AGAIN,” a Black Watch guard grumbled at the front as he reined in his horse. The rest of the guards pulled to a stop behind him, having come to the end of yet another trail that led to nowhere. This time, they found themselves at the base of the mountains.
Lenara groaned. The guards weren’t the only ones frustrated by Sylas’s apparent inability to track, or his obsessive need to remind everyone that he was in charge by demanding he be the one to determine which way they go. If he had simply let the Cylmaran trackers do their job, they would probably already be at Iraseth. Inside the Tower, he might have held a respected position, but out here, Sylas was proving to be less than useless.
“It’s his fault,” a second guard said, pointing at the inquisitor. Lenara thought the guard’s name was Ensle. “He couldn’t find his way out of bed in the morning. How’s he going to find four people in the middle of Thornwood?”
Sylas’s fingers tightened on his reins, his face reddening. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“Unless they magically scaled this cliff with a toddler on their back, then yes, we’re questioning your judgment.”
Up until now, the guards had done their best to keep their complaints to themselves, but the harder Sylas pressed them, the angrier they grew. They’d been traveling for nearly two weeks with barely any sleep. Even Lenara was having a difficult time putting up with the inquisitor’s bloated sense of self-regard.
“I’m the one the Archchancellor left in charge of this expedition. Not you!”
“And why is that?” Ensle asked. “Why would the Archchancellor place a know-nothing recruit like you in charge of something this important? Who are you?”
Everyone looked at Sylas.
Sylas smiled. “I’m the one who determines which of you my friend here will roast alive first,” he said, gesturing at Lenara.
It took everything Lenara had not to set him on fire. She didn’t appreciate being used like that, but for Joren’s sake, she steeled her nerves and raised her hand, calling on her flames. The fire burst from her palm, and the men quieted. It was getting harder and harder to keep them in line. Sylas’s arrogance was going to get Joren killed.
Ensle stared at her for a moment, plainly deciding whether he wanted to chance it. Finally, he exhaled. “Which way now?”
Sylas twisted in his saddle and pointed to the left. “That way.”
Ensle snorted but obeyed, and the caravan of guards started back up again.
She waited until the rest of the Watch had ridden on ahead before turning to Sylas. “You need to let the trackers do their jobs.”
“I have my own trackers.”
“Then why did we end up riding straight into a mountain?”
Sylas looked up through the tops of the trees. “Because I haven’t seen them in the last two days.”
“You can’t rely on the corax for everything. It wouldn’t hurt to track from the ground as well. It’s what they’re getting paid to do.”
Sylas grunted, keeping his eyes forward as he kicked his horse to catch up with the others.
She hoped he would heed her advice.
Sylas brought them to a stop a few hours later. The sun had already gone down, and the trail ahead was all but indistinguishable from the rest of the forest. After a quick meal of dried meat, cheese, and nuts, Lenara turned in for the night, hoping to catch as much sleep as she could. Her body ached from the amount of time spent in the saddle each day.
The fire did its best to cut the chill, but she still found herself pulling her blanket up to her nose. It didn’t take long for the arms of sleep to wrap her in their loving embrace. She was exhausted.
Something shook her, and she jerked awake. She yanked the blanket down and found Sylas kneeling beside her.
“What is it?” she hissed.
“Sorry,” Sylas said. “How long has it been?”
She sat up, wiping
sleep from her eyes. “Joren?”
The young guard nodded with an endearing smile. “I hated waking you, you looked so peaceful.”
“That’s all right,” she said with a yawn, trying unsuccessfully not to look tired. “I can think of worse reasons to be woken.”
“Where are we now? Still hunting those same wielders?”
She nodded with a second yawn.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking ashamed. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
“No. It’s fine. I’d only just dozed off,” she lied.
“Are you sure?”
She smiled and nodded, and he sat down beside her.
“Are we getting closer? How long has it been since the last time I was here?”
She had to think about it. “Five days, I believe. Maybe six.”
“Five days?” He released a slow, depressed sigh.
“We’ve been riding hard, barely sleeping,” she said. “It’s probably affecting your ability to take control.”
“I guess. So, anything interesting happen so far?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just endless days surrounded by trees.”
“Oh.” Joren sat there a moment, looking at her. He seemed to be trying to think of something else to say. Surprisingly, she was having the same trouble. “The last time we talked, you mentioned that your sister was the reason you joined the Tower. Would it be acceptable for me to ask why?”
She crossed her legs, the blanket still covering her from the waist down. It had been years since she had thought about her sister; memories buried long ago hurt that much more when they resurfaced. These particular memories hadn’t seen the light of day in quite some time. And for good reason. “Did I mention that my father would take Viena and me to the markets in Ecrin to sell hides each year?”
Joren nodded.
“We always looked forward to those trips: traveling with Father, seeing new places, meeting new people. Every year, Father would buy us each a dress at the shops in Ecrin. We didn’t have shops that sold clothes like that in Erast, and by the time a new year had rolled around, we’d outgrown or outworn the previous dress.” She smiled, remembering how their mother would make such a fuss over the new dresses when they returned, treating them to a party as though they were guests at the royal palace.
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