by Sever Bronny
The girl pointed at the scion. “Can that bring my poppa back?” She glanced up at him with big, bright eyes.
A hush fell upon the gathered throng.
Augum solemnly shook his head. “That it cannot do, little one.” This was the second time a child asked. People must think the scion possessed god-like powers or something.
The light in those big eyes dimmed. “It will kill the big baddie though, right? Your father?”
“He is not my father anymore. But it might, it just might.”
A woman pushed through the crowd. “There you are, sweetie.” She gently lifted the little girl up into her arms. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Your Highness. Please do not let us keep you.” She curtsied. “And thank you for—” She swallowed. “—for what you do on behalf of wretched Solia.”
“It’s my honor,” Augum managed to finally mumble, but not before she had already disappeared.
“Just wait until you see the effect you’ll have on the other students once you start attending the academy,” Alyssa said.
Great. Nothing made him feel more uncomfortable than drawing this much attention.
“Have to survive first,” he snapped. “Excuse me,” and walked through the throng. They parted before him with bowing heads like a school of fish before a shark. It almost sickened him, but he was also dismayed by his own reaction. These poor people rested all their hopes on him and he was treating them with nothing but disrespect. What in Sithesia was wrong with him?
“Hey,” he said to Leera after catching up to the girls. Students bowed or curtsied at his arrival, quietly greeting him with his title.
But just as he was about to tell the girls they needed to get going on the master runeword puzzle, someone cleared their throat loudly. They turned in surprise to find a red-faced Lord Bowlander running an imperious hand through his curly chestnut hair.
Bridget’s lips immediately pressed together, while Brandon, who had been near her since her arrival back at the castle, narrowed his eyes.
“Princess Bridget,” Bowlander said mockingly.
Augum thought he should cut this off before things got ugly. “Lord Bowlander, if there’s something you want to discuss, perhaps it would be better to do it in—”
“—excuse me, Prince Augum, but this has nothing to do with you.”
The crowd, comprised mostly of girls, gasped.
“My word—”
“He dares—”
“As I was saying,” Bowlander continued, ignoring their shock, “I have come to formally ask you for a second chance, Princess Bridget. I believe, under the laws of the old way, I am entitled to it.”
Bridget stood, mouth gaping.
Leera looked like she was going to explode, while Augum couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid.
Brandon scoffed. “Buzz off, Bowlander, before I get my bandana and shove it down your throat.”
“I was not talking to you, filthy gutterborn—”
This time it was Bridget who gasped. “How dare you use that word!” Now she was the one ballooning. “If you want to talk about the old way, then I repudiate you, sir. I repudiate you publicly!”
There was a stone cold silence during which nobody moved and only the wind could be heard rustling the dark trees.
Bowlander’s lower lip trembled. “You have … you have wounded me most grievously. And you have wounded me in public, my lady.” His voice was weak and pitiful. His eyes darted about. “Excuse me,” before he stumbled off back to the castle.
The scandalized whispers returned immediately.
“A seventeen-year-old should know better …”
“It’s because he’s hit his ceiling …”
“And there was that academy scandal …”
“He’s lucky she didn’t slap him in the old way too …”
While Bridget shook with anger and Leera and Brandon comforted her and everyone else whispered in scandalized tones, Augum worried once more about what Bowlander would do, for after experiencing people like Prince Sydo, Justinius, Dollard Canes, Leopold Harvus, and Robin Scarson, he fundamentally worried about betrayal.
And betrayal was the last thing they could afford right now.
Bridget Tells a Joke
“The nerve of that bastard,” Brandon said as he and the trio strolled to the cellar, where Augum intended to show them the clues to the runeword from the beginning.
“I am uncomfortable with that word,” Bridget said.
“Well, Bowlander is a—” but he cut short after catching Leera making a slicing gesture at her throat, indicating he should shut up immediately. And sure enough, Bridget flashed him a mild look of annoyance.
“But it is interesting—” Brandon droned on, “—that someone supposedly so charming and handsome could have such … bad character.”
“Obviously looks aren’t everything,” Bridget muttered.
Meanwhile, Augum’s mind was elsewhere, still caught up in what he had seen during the memorial ceremony. He struggled with whether or not to tell the girls, but after giving it some more thought, concluded it wouldn’t do them any good; it’d probably only make them paranoid. Instead he buried it for now and forced his brain to focus on the discussion, which continued on about how awful Lord Bowlander had been to Bridget.
“And he doesn’t wear a rebellious bandana like I do,” Brandon said.
“But you’re not wearing your bandana now,” Leera chirped.
Brandon adopted a snooty accent. “Ah, forsooth, thus I am at half my powers without my gallant head scarf. Observe fair Bridget stroll with cold shoulder, for the bandana does not draw her eye my way.”
“You’re being utterly ridiculous,” Bridget said, but she was secretly smiling, and her eyes lingered on Brandon’s shaggy walnut hair and pierced ear.
“I’m worried Bowlander will try something stupid,” Augum said. “I’ve seen that look on a person’s face before, and I don’t trust it.” He was carrying the Principus Arithmetikus book as well as his drawing of the second clue. The scion rested heavily in a pocket of his robe. He preferred it floating freely, but it seemed to alarm people, not that he blamed them.
Brandon nodded. “We should watch him. I’ll inform the guards after.”
“And the Constable too, if you don’t mind,” Augum added in an undertone as the servants and Priya bowed upon the group’s entrance into the kitchen.
“Prince Augum … Princess Bridget … Princess Leera.”
Great, even friends were adopting the stuffy expectations of the title.
The trio awkwardly acknowledged with head bobs, before taking the steps to the cellar.
At the bronze servant diagram, Augum tapped the three by four square. “This is the first clue. And the super tiny X is hidden right here. I suspect Mrs. Stone couldn’t see it because of her eyesight.” They studied it for a moment before he added, “Anyway, that clue led me to—” and he hurriedly took them all the way up to the library, this time using the spiral staircase in a battlement, thus avoiding countless bows and acknowledgments, “—this room.” He paced over to a bookshelf. “Found this book—” He held up Principus Arithmetikus, “—which made me remember Atrius Arinthian appreciated arithmetic. Not to mention Mrs. Stone said in her letter that a true Arinthian heir will be expected to not only possess the scion, but be versed in ‘arithmetic, astronomy, history, language, leadership, literature, logic, ethics, and the art of war—or some combination thereof’.” He began wandering, grateful for his sharpened memory. “And sure enough, the three by four square clue was a ratio. I counted the tiles in this room, which led me to this spot.” He stopped underneath the window, dropping to his knees. “Casting Reveal over this tile here presented me with some kind of abstract … something, I don’t know.” He unfolded his drawing, then cast the spell again for them to see for themselves, barely aware of the ease in which he was able to perform the 11th degree spell, or how the scion’s buzz had increased in volume during the casting.
“Uh, I don’t see anything,” Leera said, squinting at the window.
“Neither do I,” Bridget added.
“Same here,” Brandon chimed in.
“But—” Augum was looking right at the prismatic formation. It was already beginning to fade. “You can’t see that—?”
They shook their heads.
Suddenly it occurred to him why. “It’s only for the spell caster. You try it.” But when the girls cast Reveal, they still saw nothing.
Augum shook the drawing at them. “I’m not making this up.”
Bridget bit her lip as she glanced between Augum and the window. “It’s because it’s blood-bound, meaning only a descendant of Arinthian can see this clue.”
Augum gaped. “Oh.” Well, at least it confirmed he was indeed a descendant of the Arinthian line. Not that he didn’t know that already. But was he a true descendant, one deserving, in Arinthian’s eyes, of becoming the Keeper of the Keys?
“Further,” Bridget went on, “it’s interesting to note that, like you said yourself, the X was too small for Mrs. Stone to see, indicating to me that the clue is for younger eyes. And here we have a requirement to cast an 11th degree spell for you to even see the next clue. That says to me that Atrius Arinthian considered someone of that degree responsible enough to carry the burden of being the Keeper of the Keys to the castle.”
“You have the cutest nose,” Brandon whispered, preening.
Bridget’s cheeks colored as she scrambled to recapture her thought. “Erm, uh …”
“But what’s your point?” Leera asked, flashing Brandon an annoyed look.
“Right …” Bridget finally recovered. “My point is that some of these clues could be dangerous or downright impossible for us without help. And it seems Augum is at least six degrees early from being the kind of warlock Arinthian considered permissible. Further still, like Mrs. Stone said in her letter to Augum, the heir will most likely be expected to be well versed in arithmetic, astronomy, history, and—” She flicked a couple fingers at Augum. “—help me out here, Aug.”
“Language, leadership, literature, logic, ethics, and the art of war—or some combination thereof,” he repeated.
“Exactly, and good memory.” She glanced around proudly only to frown after seeing the dull look on Leera and Brandon’s faces. “Oh for—just give me that,” she snapped, snatching the drawing from Augum, who wanted to protest for her to go on, for he had been keeping up for once.
“She likes to think when she paces,” Leera whispered to Brandon, who watched Bridget tap her chin in thought while patrolling the room.
Brandon teetered on his heels, hand behind his back. “Brandon and Bridget,” he whispered. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Leera shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think, only what she does.” She stabbed his shoulder with a finger. “You mess with her, I kill you. Got it?”
He nodded quickly. “Got it.”
“Good.” Then she turned her attention back to Bridget while throwing Augum an elbow. “That chicken scratching make any sense to you?”
Bridget tapped the parchment. “The word ‘Descendi’ in the center here must be the beginning part of the master runeword phrase …”
“Well, obviously,” Leera said, flashing Augum a look indicating it hadn’t been at all obvious to her.
“Let me see it, oh fair maiden,” Brandon said theatrically, striding over to Bridget, whose cheeks colored again. “Looks like a bunch of constellations or something.”
The trio suddenly glanced at each other.
“His first contribution … actually makes sense,” Leera blurted.
Augum shrugged. “It’s possible. Astronomy was on the list of expectations, after all.” Problem was, he didn’t know a thing about constellations, and by the look on the girls’ faces, it seemed neither did they.
“Wart,” Brandon blurted with a knowing nod. “He knows about … constellations and stuff.”
Bridget lightly smacked his arm. “Please don’t call him that.”
“But that mountainous thing on his cheek … you know you just want to—” Brandon once more made like he was squishing a pimple while the trio recoiled in disgust.
“I even dreamed of popping it,” Brandon added in a small voice. “All right, I’m sorry. You know I love the little tyke.” When Bridget still wasn’t smiling, Brandon muttered, “I’ll go get him,” and quickly departed the library.
Bridget sighed wearily upon his departure.
“He’s not already getting on your nerves, is he?” Leera said.
Bridget scanned the rows of books, as if the answer could be found in them. “No, he can just be a little …”
“Immature?”
Bridget nodded.
“He’s a teenage boy.” Leera thumbed at Augum. “What’d you expect?”
“You’re just as immature as I am,” Augum said.
“This is true, but right now we’re busy boy-bashing, would you mind not ruining the party?”
Augum raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, boys are not nearly as mentally or socially mature as girls. They’re closer in sophistication to a mossy bag of rocks, or perhaps a bucket of slop. Anyway, you kind of have to play the role of mentor a little bit—”
“Ugh, Leera …” Bridget began rubbing her eyes tiredly.
“… they’re also, like, ten years of age most of the time, with the exception of—” she made to punch Augum’s shoulder, but he stepped away. “—this one, who is generally a wee bit more civilized, but only slightly.” Suddenly she grinned, wagging a finger at him. “Though I suspect if left to his own devices he’d go as feral as—”
“—Lee.” Bridget’s hands were on her hips.
“What?”
Bridget gave her a meaningful look.
Leera shrugged. “Fine, deny it all you like, but you have to kind of play off their depraved natures. Try a joke. Yes, try a joke. There is this thing they call humor, you know. Say it with me. Hue. Mor. Come on, Bridgey, open your mouth and start making sounds. Hue—OW!”
Bridget had smacked Leera’s arm.
“We’re devolving,” Augum commented wryly. “But yeah, she’s right, Bridge, a little humor can do wonders. He really likes you. Give him a chance.” He added to Leera in an undertone, “Anyone is better than Bowsmander.”
“Lowlander?” Leera countered, then the two of them sniped a few off-the-cuff nicknames under their breath while elbowing each other.
“Crowlender—”
“Zoobender—”
“Buttbender—”
“Ooo, good one,” Leera cooed, accepting defeat with a gracious side nod.
They returned their attention to Bridget, who was concentrating as if her life depended on it. “So … what, you think I should just—” She waved at the air as if some foul stench had entered the room. “—make a joke or something?”
“Wouldn’t hurt,” Leera replied. “It’s obvious you like him too. But don’t scare him off by telling him how you want a gaggle of geese, a rickety farmhouse with a garden, a teaching position at some middle-of-nowhere arcane school, and a bunch of brats running about that are some ugly mix between the two of you.”
Bridget was staring at her with a horrified expression.
Leera shrugged. “Yeah, just go with making a natural joke—” She stopped suddenly as a sly-smiled Brandon returned with a doe-eyed Garryk.
Garryk adjusted his clunky spectacles. “Hi,” he mumbled. He slouched over to the drawing in Bridget’s hand and tried to read it sideways. “This it, Princess Bridget?”
Bridget, who had been staring quizzically at Brandon, startled to life. “Oh, yes, sorry. Here, take it—” She handed it over for him to inspect, then blurted to Brandon, “I know it’s cheesy, but I feel great.”
They stood gaping at her.
“You know … grate?” Bridget forced a smile at Brandon while making a grating motion with her hands. “As
in … cheese grate?”
Leera smacked her face with her palm.
“Because I was … feeling cheesy … and stuff …” Bridget trailed off, red-faced and repeatedly curling her cinnamon hair behind her ears.
Brandon gaped before melting. “That’s … adorable,” but instead of being sarcastic, his smile was true.
“Yes, she’s utterly adorable,” Leera said lamely, shaking her head at Bridget, before hissing at her, “We’ve got to work on that humor thing.”
“Yes, these are indeed constellations,” Garryk suddenly declared, completely unaware of their conversation. Bridget, seemingly eager to be distracted, suddenly lunged to his side, nodding fervently, “Uh-huh, yes, good. Constellations. Very good indeed, Garryk.” She patted his shoulder. “Well done and very, very interesting. What else can you tell us about them?”
Garryk winced at the hand tightly scrunching his shoulder. “It’s a terribly crude drawing, but …”
Leera gave Augum a smug look.
“Yes, I get it, my drawing sucks,” Augum muttered.
“… it seems to be a bunch of stars, one of which I would swear is the constellation of the Great Spear.” He flipped the parchment around, tilting his head. “Further, it appears to point to a second triangular constellation, but I cannot be sure.”
Bridget leaned in close, frowning in thought.
“See another joke in there, Your Royal Highness?” Brandon asked delicately.
Bridget choked as if she had swallowed a bug.
“Are you all right?” Brandon quickly asked in concern.
“Completely … fine …” Bridget wheezed in a weakened voice, coughing through it. She vaguely pointed at the parchment. “Yes, uh, this formation here, uh, does indeed appear—” She blinked rapidly, for her eyes had watered during the coughing fit. “—to be, uh, some kind of …” She squinted at the parchment. “… sign.”
Leera squelched what surely had to be a burst of laughter behind her hand. Augum quickly stepped in between with a forced serious expression to distract Bridget from Leera.
“So you’re saying we have to use the drawing to somehow figure out what the constellations are telling us?” he asked, tapping the parchment while doing his absolute best not to crack.
