by Ryan Muree
Pushing off from the ledge of the window, she jumped inside the library and fell toward the top of the nearest bookshelf. Before she slammed down into it, she evaporated into a puff of magenta dust. It was as quick as blinking—first the world was there, then a smidgeon of black nothing, and then the world came back again. The bookshelf was at her feet. She landed with the faintest thud, crouched low, and waited to see if anyone had noticed.
After a few silent moments and no alarms, she stepped to the edge of the shelf and peered down at the Scribe writing in her grimoire with a furious speed. It was too far below to catch details, but the sigils looked purple for shielding.
The Keeper posted to Adalai’s right shifted his weight, making the metal bits of his armor clink.
She stepped back out of sight from the edge. He hadn’t seen her, yet, but there were easier grimoires to nab than the one under the hand of a Scribe. She inched back along the top of the bookshelf, away from the center of the room, and toward the wall with the window she’d come in through.
This was entirely too easy. Stadholdens and their over-dressed, pretty army of Keepers had certainly grown lazy while she and her fellow service members had been fighting off Ingini at the border. The least they could do was be less stingy with their grimoires. They deserved what she was about to do to them.
The aisle she’d been perched over was free and clear. Good place to start as any.
She exhaled and Dispersed. Letting every piece of herself break apart until she was a cloud, she made sure to take up the space between the tiniest specks of dust and air. It felt good to be so light, but her speed was hindered in this form, and it made her vision blurry.
She slipped down the bookshelf like a small pink fog rolling over mountains. When she reached the floor of the aisle, she reformed into her original shape and headed for the spines of grimoires lining the shelves.
All right, Tidbits, let’s get the goods.
A flurry of magenta ether blossomed on her shoulder and formed into the shape of an overweight, masked tulisan. Big, beady eyes surrounded by dark fur like a mask, she sniffed the air and rubbed her tiny paws together.
No, I don’t have anything to eat. Now, help me look.
Adalai fingered the glittering red spines nearest to her: fire, fire, more fire. She knelt and checked the shelf below them—more immolation grimoires. If the Zephyrs had a fire Caster, she would’ve grabbed a few.
Look for illusionary grimoires, Tidbits.
Her purple-pink familiar whimpered in her mind.
No, ma’am. Want more treats? Then, earn your keep.
Tidbits turned and ran her paws over the spines.
Boots clicked against the skystone floor behind them, forcing Adalai to Blink to the end of the aisle. Pressed against the shelf, she waited until the footsteps had echoed farther across the room. Tidbits had evaporated and formed again on her shoulder.
She exhaled. After a quick check, she slipped into the neighboring aisle for more titles.
In a sparkling magenta script, illusionary grimoires beckoned her. Finally.
Tidbits, find some matter grimoires.
The creature couldn’t hop or leap. She merely lumbered off Adalai’s shoulder and struggled to pull herself onto a nearby shelf.
Adalai cracked open the first illusions book she’d found to reveal the best page of any grimoire—page one. Sweet, glorious page one opened the possibilities for all the other pages. Whatever sigil had been scribed onto page one, it was so important, or devastating, or precious, it could only be used once.
She checked around her again and skimmed the first page with her fingertips. The magenta ether tickled, practically lifting off the page in anticipation.
Four cubes, ten overlapping circles, three prime numbers at the cardinal points… She sucked in a breath. Illusionary Room.
A sigil with the ability to convince others the surrounding space was actually somewhere else would only be inside an unbelievable grimoire. The ether would make the strongest victim feel lost and drive the weakest to madness.
What was this place? This book was too strong. It shouldn’t be there sitting on a shelf like that. She almost put the book back, but instead grabbed another and opened it, too.
Checking over her shoulder, always tuned to the movements in the room, she flipped to the first page of the second book.
A shudder ran through her. Remap Mind.
These were powerful grimoires. They weren’t the typical books for the average Revelian user to light stoves or make puppets dance. These were for rare Revelian Casters like herself. These were… This room…
“Jackpot!” she whispered.
The metal clank of armor echoed.
Holding several books with one arm, she formed an illusionary bag over one shoulder with the other, and then shoved the books in it.
She dashed down the aisle to the end again, picking up a few more grimoires from the shelves for the rest of her team. They’d lose their minds when they saw what she’d gotten a hold of. They’d probably even buy her drinks and let her sleep in.
And she couldn’t wait to shove it in Vaughn and Tully’s face.
Back against the shelf, she opened the first grimoire she’d found—the one with the first page dedicated to creating an illusionary room. It’d take a while to absorb, too long for her to do it there, but the others…
She flipped to the later, less important pages.
Page 15, Disguise.
Page 172, Blink.
Page 183, Glamour.
Sweet hopper juice and hol-shits. She could stand to use another 172 Blinks. And fifteen more full Disguises?
Fingertips to the page, she closed her eyes and willed the ether to come to her. One by one each symbol, each stroke, every arc and shape lifted off the page along with her hand. Her palm absorbed the ether like a sponge, and it filled her with the same relief as scratching an itch she didn’t know she had. She pulled back the sleek, dark-blue sleeve of the Zephyr flight suit and watched as the numbers blurred and updated in her skin.
Just a bit more.
She flipped to the Glamour sigils and began to draw up the winding and twirling ether tendrils between her palm and the page.
A squeak in the real world came from behind, followed by a crash.
She jerked her head and found Tidbits dangling for her life from the second-highest shelf. Several books had tumbled to the floor, and her pet’s stubby legs under a rotund midsection couldn’t reach the shelf again.
The heels of the Keeper immediately clicked on the stone toward their location.
Forcing her will to gain control of her familiar’s ethereal form again, she urged Tidbits to return to her shoulder.
Tidbits whimpered as she let go of the ledge, fell, and burst into a cloud of purple-pink dust on the floor. She reformed onto Adalai’s shoulder as Adalai sprang for another aisle and slipped her grimoire into her bag.
You really made things difficult, Tidbits. Adalai slid behind another shelf.
She should have just Dispersed and floated back to the top of the bookshelves, but Vaughn would never shut up if she didn’t grab at least one book for him.
She peered down the next neighboring aisle—all clear—and sprinted for the grimoires, her eyes roving over the titles.
More illusions, some weird air and light grimoires… Matter!
She flipped through it, and amber-colored ether perked up at her. Half the pages were blank, but it would have to do. There was no telling whether the book was worth a damn. It wasn’t like she could read what they did. But if Vaughn complained about her grabbing a useless book, then he could return it himself. She stuffed it in her pack, along with two others next to it.
The whooshing sound of ether blossoming to life on her right caught her attention.
A Keeper—the one who’d been standing guard—was at the end of the aisle. His perfectly crystalline, black shield was out, and he was coming straight for her.
She snapped her fingers, Tidbits dis
appeared, and she took off for another row of books.
Without reading the titles, she grabbed grimoires as she went—a green spine, a teal one, two sky-blue, another magenta.
A call rang out, soon followed by doors banging open. It echoed all the way to the domed ceiling.
She was out of time, and her bag was getting heavy.
A smaller female Keeper holding a smoky, crystalline ether-shield in one hand and a mace in the other turned the corner and charged at her.
Damn. With her knives back on the Zephyrs’ airship, there was no fighting and no way to be threatening. She retreated, pulling books and papers off the shelf behind her as she wound through the aisles.
“A-23!” a voice shouted.
The little sign dangling above her read A-23. She needed a better vantage. Aiming for the top of the bookshelves, she Dispersed into a cloud to float to the top.
She didn’t rise. She grunted and groaned and strained, but the books she’d taken must have been weighing her down.
Perfect.
The Keeper from earlier turned the aisle, and he charged straight for her floating form. The mace Keeper came around behind her.
Ugh.
Her cloud-form wasn’t moving, and now she was too far from her escape window.
Before the Keeper could pull out one of his weapons, she reformed and charged for him. He charged, too, until she Blinked through and behind him before they collided. Throwing dazzling lights behind her, she smiled and made for another aisle.
She hadn’t expected to be too heavy to float to the top of the bookshelves and out of her window, but she’d find another way. She just had to keep moving.
Sprinting around shelves, Blinking to throw them off, tossing books and lights around the room, she’d made a scene. It was actually fun. The chase, the threat of getting in trouble, it was like old training days at the academy, and so unlike the boring new assignments Orr had ordered them to do.
Mace Keeper met her at the end of a row ready to pummel her with it.
Adalai Blinked back to avoid the swing and crashed into a bookshelf instead. It teetered, sending several books tumbling on top of them both. The Keeper’s eyes widened as the enormous bookshelf loomed and threatened to fall into the next.
Adalai took the opportunity to Blink away and toward the center of the room. She had to get back to the wall with the window, and if she had to crawl up the damn shelves to get out, she would.
Something whizzed past her head and chinked into the stone pillar beside her. Chunks of wall shattered off. She yelped and raised her arms with her bag bouncing on her shoulder. In front of her was the dark table and the lone Scribe hiding beneath it. She’d have to Blink across the top of it to avoid being out in the open too long. She sprinted for it.
Another bolt with a chain thudded into the wall behind her hip.
After having cleared the last bookshelf before the open center, she Blinked on top of the dais and rolled across the table.
But a terrifying pain exploded from her shoulder. She gasped and fell to the floor, knocking the bag from her shoulder and her mask askew.
She’d been hit, obviously, but her footing was wobbly, and she couldn’t Blink. The Keeper was dragging her to him by her wound.
She winced, ripped the chain dart from her arm with a cry, and scrambled to her knees. She had to get the bag back. Three Keepers narrowed in, but she couldn’t leave without the bag.
The Scribe hiding under the table had it and held it up for Adalai to take. A young Scribe. Not like one of the other old birds. Her gold eyes were wide and framed by dark, wavy hair. She looked… familiar.
“Get her!” The Keepers were near enough to charge her. Her time was up.
Adalai yanked the bag hard enough that the Scribe fell forward with it. She twisted the Scribe’s arm behind her back and took the young woman hostage with Adalai’s free hand poised at her throat. “Stop!”
The Keepers froze.
“Don’t come any closer.” She might not have had a physical weapon, but her ether could be just as good, and they knew it.
Her shoulder stung hot, and sweat dripped down her neck. This had all gone belly up quick. She rose to her feet, bringing the Scribe with her and away from the table.
“I can’t get a clear shot, Grier,” one Keeper spat to the other.
The one called Grier, the one who’d been chasing her from the beginning, had the bloodied chain dart in his hand.
Mace Keeper was between the two of them, materializing a fresh ether-shield from her shield-arm. “She’s an illusionist. She could convince us of anything. Be careful.”
Grier lifted his chin a little. “Let her go, and you might survive.”
Spirits be damned, this is not how she wanted this to end. The warmth and pain in Adalai’s shoulder had spread across her chest and down her fingers. Her remaining strength in that arm was from shock. It’d fail soon. Thankfully, the Scribe wasn’t resisting much.
She inched back and flexed her free hand at the Scribe’s throat again. “Don’t make me do something crazy to her.”
The only hostages she wanted were Ingini; not one of her own allies. Especially a Scribe. But these fancy-looking Keepers didn’t know that. So, sure, this whole thing looked very stupid of her, but it was for their own good. It was practice for them even if her escape had to be very real.
“Don’t say a word,” she breathed to the Scribe in her grip.
Taking a deep breath, Adalai bent the light in the room until she and the Scribe were invisible. With enormous concentration, she continued inching back toward her escape window. Most illusionary ether was designed to be single, instantaneous casts, but casting something like Refraction took continued focus as she moved.
“Shit,” the Mace Keeper blurted. “I told you.”
“She’s looking for an escape,” Grier said. “Spread out. Get Captain Lerissa if you have to.”
The Keepers scurried in different directions while Adalai made her way toward the wall with the window. Her exit was right there—seventy feet up. She’d have to climb the shelves to reach the top, but then she could Blink up and out. She looked at the Scribe. “I’m letting you go. Run, hide, whatever, just don’t scream.”
The Scribe nodded once, and Adalai released her, immediately reaching for the shelves. Her fingers sought an edge to grip, but her wounded shoulder gave out. Her hand slipped, eliciting a cry she had to stifle with her good shoulder. The pain made her fingers tremble while blood dripped into her hand.
“You can escape down the eastern hall,” the Scribe whispered, and then pointed behind Adalai.
She was helping her again?
The clanking of Keeper boots echoed closer.
Adalai grabbed hold of the Scribe again as the one called Grier turned the corner several aisles down from them.
He held up a free hand while swirling the bloody chain dart in the other. “Last chance. Let her go.”
Chapter 3
Drawing room — Great Library — Stadhold
Grier licked the sweat from his upper lip. His eyes stalked the thief as she stalked him.
She’d somehow gotten onto the library’s grounds, broken into the drawing room, stolen books, and now taken Emeryss as a hostage. He wouldn’t just run the criminal down. He’d dismantle her and let the Goddess of Redemption sort her out.
The thief shifted her weight back and forth on her feet properly, seeming ready for anything. She’d been faster than most illusionists he’d trained for, too.
With his chain dart comfortably in his right hand, he stepped closer. If he got too close, she’d try to Blink away or use light to make her look invisible again. But she wouldn’t succeed twice. His Scribe was in danger—Emeryss was in danger—and this was everything he’d been trained to do.
Lady Light, give me strength. He willed a new shield to take form. The ether blossomed from his bracer like black ink in water and then hardened to an impenetrable crystal. The thief smirked.
/> His father and mother had shared stories from their younger days about the stray Revelians who’d managed to sneak into random parts of the Great Library. The miscreants were usually desperate Revelians addicted to ether or looking to make some money in the underground markets in the capital. They were never smart, however, since Father had said they were always easy to apprehend and even easier to find guilty in Stadhold courts.
But this one… This one hadn’t been easy. She didn’t look much younger than he, which meant her skill had been honed from growing up in an upper-caste family or worse—the streets. Revel might have boasted the most talented Casters of the world, but every nation had its dark corners. Revel’s were found in the rugged streets of its capital, where the unfortunate and irresponsible wasted away or fought to survive.
Except neither made sense for this one. Someone from an upper-caste family wouldn’t need to steal grimoires. And yet, the slight sheen on her fitting, deep-blue suit suggested better sources than street markets. No, she had done this for sport. She was the worst kind of criminal—unpredictable, illogical.
She shifted left, a hands-width from Emeryss, but it was all he needed. He launched the dart at her other arm.
She fashioned a tome from thin air and blocked the dart’s blow with it.
He yanked back his chain, and the book evaporated.
Good. She’d expect the chain dart again, and he could use that. The thief’s wounded shoulder already slumped from his first strike, and her suit had darkened there.
She hooked her good arm through Emeryss’s, pulling her closer, but her eyes were still on him.
One more clean shot and he’d take it. He wouldn’t risk Emeryss otherwise. He’d never risk Emeryss. “Let her go.”
She shoved Emeryss a little more in front of her as a shield. Of all the disgusting moves…
Emeryss’s glittering gold irises widened as her eyebrows drew together. Was she afraid? In pain? Sad?
Whatever it was, he’d end it. He’d protect her or die trying. His shield-arm up, he was ready to deflect whatever the Caster threw at him. “Just back away from her slowly. Taking her won’t make your life easier.”
