The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “You bet.” Krey slipped inside. Before pulling the door closed, he looked back and whispered, “You know how important this is to me. Thanks for helping.”

  As Krey had sat in the chapel on Monday night, an idea had struck him. He wasn’t about to claim the plan came from God himself, but it did seem like a good one. He’d immediately left to find Ovrun.

  He asked his friend to volunteer for night shifts guarding the records room—and to sneak Krey in. Ovrun was, understandably, hesitant. If he got caught, he’d be fired from a job he loved.

  Krey hated putting Ovrun in such a position, but he hadn’t been able to think of another way to get information on Zeisha. Seeing his friend’s desperation, Ovrun had agreed to help.

  Ovrun’s first shift in this hallway had been on Thursday night, but that was Cygni 31st, the last day of the year. There were all-night celebrations on the palace grounds, and every guard post had double coverage. The two conspirators couldn’t have gotten away with anything on such a night. Now it was early Sunday morning, Centa 3rd, and Ovrun was standing guard alone.

  Krey turned on the light. The large room’s wooden shelves were loaded with narrow file boxes. It looked like the dullest library known to man. He quickly navigated to a shelf labeled APPRENTICESHIPS.

  The file boxes were numbered. Krey turned and walked along the room’s perimeter, searching for a catalog that would tell him what the numbers stood for. At the back of the room, he found three doors. The first had a sign reading ADMIN. It was locked.

  He moved on to the next door, labeled SORTING. It was unlocked. He turned on the light and found multiple tables, all covered with trays, many of which had papers in them.

  Krey entered the third room, which was labeled MAIL. Crates of unopened letters sat on a table. Two additional tables held sorted mail. This wasn’t what he needed.

  He jogged to the front of the room and cracked the door open. “Hey, I need your key.”

  “Why?”

  “For the admin room. I need a catalog to help me figure out this filing system.”

  “Sorry, man, only the filing director has the key to that room.”

  Krey sighed, closed the door, and returned to the shelves holding apprenticeships files. He pulled out box after box and at last found what he was seeking: lists of apprentices, filed by the years in which they’d begun their training.

  He took the box to a desk at the front of the room and glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:30. He groaned. It didn’t feel like he’d been here for an hour.

  Krey frantically pulled papers out of the box. His knee bobbed up and down. At the back was a page labeled CYON 200 PD. That was the month Zeisha had been taken. She would’ve arrived in Cellerin City a week or two later.

  The list was short. Just ten names. Krey read it four times. Zeisha wasn’t there.

  He brought his fist down on the table. “Damn it!” The exclamation must’ve been louder than he realized, because a warning knock sounded from the door.

  Maybe she didn’t get to Cellerin City until the next month. Krey looked for the page with records from the month of Cygni. It wasn’t there. They probably hadn’t filed it yet. He shoved the papers back in the box and replaced it on the shelf.

  He ran to the sorting room, again opening the door and turning on the light. It didn’t take long to find an overflowing tray labeled APPRENTICESHIPS. A list labeled CYGNI 200 PD was near the top. Zeisha’s name wasn’t on it. Krey looked through the other documents but found no mention of her.

  Cursing under his breath, he looked through trays of financial statements, bills and receipts, documents related to public works projects, and more. With every pointless paper he perused, his ire grew.

  He looked up at the clock. 1:50. Ovrun’s gonna kill me! He left the sorting room but couldn’t bring himself to go to the hallway just yet.

  Instead, he entered the mail room. He didn’t have time to look through the full crates of mail, so he ignored them. He moved past them to a table full of trays labeled with the names of minor officials. They contained sealed envelopes. On the third table was a stack of unopened envelopes. Next to it were more trays, these labeled with the names of the king and his ministers. The letters in the trays were open. Krey stared, brows knitted together. Why had someone opened this mail?

  Then it hit him. The government bigwigs didn’t have time to go through every piece of mail. Even their assistants didn’t want to read all the pointless letters people sent them. So underlings filtered the mail before it ever went to the offices.

  Krey sifted through the king’s letters but found nothing interesting. He scanned the rest of the trays. What next?

  Something on the floor caught his eye. A trash can, overflowing with paper. He knelt before it. More letters, all addressed to the people whose names were on the trays. What sorts of letters do they consider unimportant?

  He dumped out the papers and looked through them. Much of it was fan mail, gushing and sickeningly sweet. Then Krey picked up a page, and a word caught his eye: apprenticeship. He began reading.

  Dear Minister Sharai,

  I pray you can help me.

  My son, a soil lyster, was recruited into the apprenticeship program four months ago. We’ve received two letters from him, but they were very short, and he’s asked us not to visit him.

  I worry that he may be struggling in his new position. Would it be possible for you to check on him for me? May I visit, despite his request?

  The letter went on, but Krey stopped reading. This is where the letters I sent about Zeisha ended up. Hot rage bubbled in his chest, and he wanted to throw the trash can across the room. Instead, he sifted through the crumpled pages even more frantically, looking for similar correspondence. He struck gold with another letter, this one addressed to King Ulmin. It was from a father who was convinced someone had kidnapped his ash-eating daughter.

  Krey folded the two letters in fourths, pulled his shirt tail out, and shoved the pages into the waistband of his pants. He glanced at the clock. 1:59.

  He drew in a sharp breath. Letters back in the trash. Lights off. Close the door. RUN. At the front of the room, he turned off the light, panting. He reached out for the door, but it opened before he could grab the handle.

  Ovrun was standing there, eyes wide, face red. “You gotta get out of here! Someone will be here—” He halted, glancing down the hallway. A low curse exited his mouth. “He’s coming. He can see that I’m talking to someone.”

  Krey gaped at his friend. The open door blocked his view of the approaching guard—and the guard’s view of him. Spurred on by an urgent impulse, he pulled the letters from his waistband. “Shove these in your shirt and arrest me.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Get the papers to Nora.”

  Ovrun didn’t argue. He took a step toward Krey, moving himself out of the line of sight of the other guard. Then he undid the two buttons of his black shirt and slipped the folded papers into the space.

  A voice reached Krey’s ears: “What’s going on?”

  “Turn around!” Ovrun shouted.

  Krey obeyed.

  “Sorry, man,” Ovrun whispered. He grasped Krey’s wrist and pulled him into the hallway. “Found this guy in the records room,” he told the other guard.

  The guard approached, eyebrows raised. “Want me to take him to the security office?”

  “Nah, I got it.” Ovrun marched his friend down the corridor.

  “Button up your shirt!” the other guard called after Ovrun.

  When they turned a corner, Krey whispered, “Any chance you can let me go?”

  “Not without losing my job.”

  Krey sighed. “You better take me in.”

  In the Dark: 3

  “Zeisha. Wake up.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You need to count,” Isla whispered.

  “Okay.” Zeisha didn’t tell Isla that she’d already been awake.

  They had an agreement: when one of the
m woke in the middle of the night, she roused the other one. With so many people tossing, turning, and snoring in such tight quarters, they were pretty sure one of them woke every night.

  Tonight, Zeisha had wanted a few minutes alone to savor the dream she’d just had, of Krey soaring into this place and rescuing her.

  She breathed deeply, trying to grasp the dream’s details before they floated away. Krey had flown into a big room, where Zeisha, Isla, and the others were . . . What were we doing? Where are we?

  “Everything okay?”

  Zeisha’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Isla’s hushed voice. The images from her dream fled. She sighed. “I’m fine.”

  She took off her shoes and socks, then moved the string to the big toe of her left foot and slid her finger along her right ankle, counting the scars. “Eight weeks, five days,” she said.

  Once her socks and shoes were back on, she lay down and closed her eyes, praying for another good dream.

  9

  Our house had lightfilm panels in the ceiling, just like every preday building. At night, I used to hold a lantern up high, imagining what it would be like for soft, white light to glow in every room. No matches, no shadowy corners. Just pure light.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  A gentle knock pulled Nora out of her dreams. Heart pounding, she turned on the light and walked into her sitting room. Someone had slipped two papers under her door. They were both letters. When she read them, she was instantly alert.

  Despite Krey’s concerns, Nora had remained convinced Zeisha was an apprentice in Cellerin City. The poor girl was probably avoiding her boyfriend because she was tired of his attitude.

  These letters contradicted that narrative. They were from parents who were just as concerned about their children as Krey was about Zeisha. What was really going on with these apprenticeships?

  Nora pursed her lips. She didn’t know who’d delivered the letters. At first, she’d assumed it was Krey, but his medallion didn’t allow him to enter the residence.

  She read the letters again. Still stumped, she flipped them over. There, scrawled on the back of the second letter, was a message: The new guy snuck into the records hall and got arrested. He’s in the security office.

  Nora’s eyes widened. Krey had gotten himself arrested? He was actually getting somewhere with his investigation. Now they’d send him home . . . or throw him in a cell for a few months to teach him a lesson.

  I should let this go. Nora’s father or Dani would advise her to let the immature Mr. West suffer his consequences. That would be the prudent route.

  She tossed the letters on her bed. By the sky, I hate being prudent.

  Krey West was rude, egotistical, and unpredictable. But his investigation had brought much-needed intrigue and excitement into Nora’s life. She didn’t want him to leave. Plus, she couldn’t help but root for a lovesick fool who’d do anything to find his girlfriend.

  Nora stared at the wall, searching for a solution. Only one idea presented itself. She folded up the letters, pulled off her pajamas, and ran to her closet to make herself presentable.

  “You’re telling me he broke into the records room on your orders?” The head of security stood behind the front desk of the palace security office, his thick eyebrows raised.

  Nora glanced at the cell behind the desk. Krey was standing behind the bars, watching her, his forehead furrowed. Returning her attention to the head of security, Nora covered her mouth with her hands and set her face into a sheepish expression. “This is so embarrassing.”

  “Your Highness, you’re gonna have to tell me the whole story.”

  She dropped her hands. “Okay—okay. Remember that groom we had a couple of years back? The tall one?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, he had a son. About my age. And, well . . .” She let out a nervous giggle. “We spent some time together, you know?”

  The head of security smirked. “I remember.”

  “Oh!” And she thought she’d been so discreet. “Well, I’ve been thinking about him, wishing I could write him a letter. But my father won’t tell me where he lives. I asked Krey to sneak into the records hall and find his address.”

  “Why would he risk his apprenticeship for you?”

  She shrugged. “I promised him a chest of ice every week. He’s an ice lyster, you know.”

  The head of security rolled his eyes. “You magic eaters. You’ll do anything for fuel.”

  “Will you let him go?” She manufactured a shuddering breath and trembling chin. “I’d hate to be the one to ruin his life.”

  The man folded his thick arms. “If your friend there had actually taken records, I’d have to prosecute. You know that, right?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor and nodded.

  “I suppose since he failed, and he was doing it on your behalf, I can be lenient. But if he gets in trouble again, I’m informing the king of what happened tonight. Including your role in it.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  The head of security approached the cell and spoke to Krey in a low voice. Krey nodded earnestly, responding with “Yes, sir” and “I understand, sir.” The big man unlocked the cell and ushered his prisoner out.

  “You both better get to bed,” the head of security said. “In your own rooms.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said, before rushing out.

  “Garden,” Nora whispered.

  Krey nodded once. They hurried past the palace and residence, the buildings’ exterior lights illuminating their path. Nora led Krey to a far corner that was barely lit by a distant lamppost. They sat on a bench.

  Krey immediately demanded, “Did Ovrun tell you I was arrested?”

  “Somebody—I’m not sure who—slipped two letters under my door, along with a note. I read the letters, and—I hate to say this, but I think you may be right. I don’t know where Zeisha and those others are, but something weird is going on.”

  Krey let out a harsh sigh. He fixed Nora with a stare. “Why’d you lie to get me out of that cell?”

  Nora shrugged. “I guess I want to help you find Zeisha. If she loves someone as arrogant and rude as you, she must be pretty special.” Immediately, she wished she could take back the words. No wonder I don’t have any friends.

  But Krey didn’t get defensive. He laughed. “You’re right about that.”

  Nora’s mouth dropped open. She laughed too, then leaned in closer and said, “I have an idea.”

  The next night, Nora sat in her room. Everyone else was in bed. She was due to meet Krey in an hour.

  Something was niggling at her, and she’d been trying to figure out what it was all day. She took a deep breath. Instead of her thoughts clearing, an image filled her mind: the letters Krey had stolen. Not wanting to alert anyone that she was awake, she lit a candle instead of turning on the overhead light. She pulled the letters from the unused journal she’d hidden them in. Was she missing something?

  Reading through them, her eyes lit on a few words written by a worried father: We’ve received two letters from him, but they were very short. Krey had said something similar, that it seemed like someone else had written Zeisha’s letters.

  Nora drew in a sharp breath as her brain finally made the connection it had been working on. She’d once gotten a short, confusing letter too. Well, more of a note than a letter. It was six months ago, and it was from her friend Faylie. Nora had burned it, but she could still remember every word.

  Your Highness,

  I no longer wish to be your friend.

  Faylie Nett

  The note had stunned Nora. She and Faylie had always agreed they were meant to be best friends. The ice lyster and the fire lyster. Opposites, yet a perfect match. They’d spent years whispering and giggling, sharing meals and dreams.

  The cold words, written in stark, black ink, were so unlike Faylie. But the note was in her handwriting, so Nora hadn’t questioned it. She figured she’d driven Fayl
ie away and would never know why.

  There had been two letters in the envelope. The second was to Dani, from Faylie’s mother. She explained they were moving to the neighboring nation of Newland to join their relatives. She hadn’t shared a forwarding address.

  Like Zeisha, Faylie and her mother were talented lysters. What if they’d both been taken? It was a terrible possibility, but it came with its own sort of hope. Maybe I didn’t mess up our friendship after all.

  Nora mentally berated herself for the thought. Obviously it would be better for her former friend to be safe in Newland than to have been abducted. But she couldn’t deny the possibility that Faylie and her mother might need rescuing. Just like Zeisha. Pacing in her bedroom, Nora promised herself, We’ll find the truth. Whatever it takes.

  A little less than an hour later, Nora tiptoed to the residential gate. She unlocked and opened it. Krey entered without a word. They hurried into the icehouse.

  “Lock it, and turn on the light,” Nora said.

  He did.

  Nora grinned. “You ready for this?”

  “I still think I should go alone. I could skip all this covert stuff and walk out the front gate.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Nora said.

  “Why not?”

  Her theory about Faylie came out in a breathless monologue.

  “Wow,” he replied when she was done.

  “Right? Your girlfriend, my best friend, and who-knows-how-many others, all together.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “Well, I know it’s not a sure thing, but—”

  “It seems like a big coincidence, you know? For both of them to be in the same place. And this story about your friend . . . it doesn’t fit. Zeisha and the others, they’re all young. They all told their families they’re apprentices. Why would your friend’s mom have disappeared too? And why would she say they were moving?”