Page 11 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Six

Over the next few days, Mavery reacquainted herself with Leyport.

By Onisday morning, she’d rented a room in the cheapest boarding house she could find, identified the bakery with the least expensive bread, and patronized the taverns with the least watered-down ale.

Though her first week’s wages would allow her to live a bit more comfortably, it was still too early to indulge in frivolous things.

She arrived at Steelforge Towers promptly at nine.

She waved to Bertie at the front desk, tossed a chunk of baguette to the kutauss—whose name she learned was Klaus—and ascended to the sixth floor.

This time, she wasn’t inundated with thoughts to leave, though the rest of Aventus’s magic was still in place.

She repeated the trick she’d pulled the other day.

Several minutes passed before he finally answered the door. His dressing gown was open, revealing a sleeping shift that hung below his knees. His hair was even more tousled than before, as though he’d come straight from bed.

“You’re early,” he yawned.

“I’m on time, actually. For a moment there, I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

“No, I overslept, is all.” He glanced at his stockinged feet. “Come in while I put on something more presentable.”

She returned to the sofa as he walked around it and into the bedroom. He stumbled into a stack of books, toppling them over, and muttered something under his breath. His incoherent ramblings continued until he closed the door behind him.

Clearly, he was not a morning person. Nine o’clock was late for Mavery, who had awoken at dawn as usual.

She chewed her baguette while she picked at a loose thread in her new blouse.

Well, it was new to her, not the woman who’d left it in the boarding house’s washroom.

It was several sizes too large, and its oatmeal color made her look like a walking corpse.

At least it was better than the shirt with the bullet hole and bloodstains.

With the advance on her wages, she could have bought some nicer clothes, but that seemed like another frivolous indulgence.

When Aventus reappeared, she recalled from the newspaper ad that he was a professor.

Now, in his tweed trousers and matching vest, he finally looked the part.

Though his clothing was made of quality fabrics, not a single article fit him properly.

His trouser legs were baggy, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his vest hung loosely despite being completely buttoned.

But he was still the better dressed between the two of them.

“Well,” he said, “shall we begin?”

She polished off her baguette as she followed him to the bookshelves. The books here had been arranged by subject—to an extent—while the ones on the floor had been lumped together at random.

“I’ve accumulated a rather large collection of overdue books from several universities’ libraries,” he said. “Your first order of business is to track them down.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Simple, though I doubt it will be easy. I’ve long neglected my cataloging system, so those books could be anywhere. You’ll have to pick through every book in this apartment, I’m afraid.”

To further prove his point, he showed her how the books had also overtaken his bedroom.

Stacks of them had been shoved into corners, atop the dresser, beneath the bed.

Aside from the mess, the room was cozy—and private.

Since they were on the top floor, with nothing but the River Merimar in sight, only a sheer curtain hung in the window.

The iron-framed bed was excessively large for a single sleeper, and it was covered in a heap of plush blankets and pillows.

Mavery now understood why Aventus had overslept.

Back in the sitting room, she spotted a door that she assumed led to a second bedroom. He noticed her gaze linger on it. He took her by the shoulders.

“That’s the storage room, nothing of importance in there,” he said, steering her away. “Here, let me show you the kitchen.”

It was equipped with modern luxuries: the sink had running water, the stove was powered by Elemental magic, and the larder glowed with a blue aura that Mavery suspected was a food preservation ward.

Though Aventus had called it a kitchen, the room looked more like a laboratory.

Alchemy equipment lay strewn about on every surface, and a few bundles of herbs hung from the rafters.

“Though it’s not my primary focus,” he said, “I’ve always enjoyed dabbling in alchemy.”

“Seems a little dangerous, considering all that paper in the next room.”

“Oh, I always place a fireproofing ward before engaging in my experiments. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Speaking of wards, I should augment the one guarding the front door. That way, you’ll no longer need to break in, so to speak.”

They returned to the sitting room, where the spectrum of auras pulsated in front of the door.

He opened a desk drawer and extracted a smooth black stone about the size of a goose egg.

This, too, glowed with an aura. Mavery peered closer and spotted ley lines—silver threads that connected the stone to the warded door.

“This is the anchor for my Personage-Based Augmentations.”

“Ah, of course.” She nodded, pretending that he hadn’t just spoken complete gibberish.

“Your hair, if you will.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be hair. A fingernail clipping, a drop of blood, a severed digit… but hair is far less morbid.”

“True, you don’t strike me as the type to dabble in Necromancy, especially considering it’s illegal and all.”

“Only for ordinary mages. Wizards are allowed certain privileges.” Aventus furrowed his brow. “Surely you learned that at Atterdell?”

“Probably, but it’s been almost twenty years since I last stepped foot in a classroom.”

“Hmm.” It was impossible to tell whether he believed her. He gave his head a slight shake. “Now, a hair, if you please. I’ll let you do the honors.”

With a brief twinge of pain, she plucked one of her gray hairs—she was more eager to part with those—and passed it to him. He draped it across the stone and recited a few words of Etherean.

Etherean was born of the Ether, the energy that produced magic, and so it was the language of spellcraft.

Its cadence commanded reverence, while its lyricism inspired awe.

Simple spells sounded like stanzas from a song, while the most complex spells were akin to epic poems. Mavery had only studied the language long enough to recognize it; she’d never accomplished even the most basic incantations on her own.

Mispronouncing a single word could result in a failed spell at best, an explosive disaster at worst. After one too many close calls, she’d given up on teaching herself this aspect of magic.

Aventus, however, spoke Etherean as though it were his mother tongue.

His words produced a slight chill in the air, and Mavery shivered in spite of herself.

The stone glowed in response. But she knew these were all side effects of her Sensing abilities.

Anyone else would notice nothing out of the ordinary—apart from a man speaking strange words to a rock.

“There,” he said. “You’ll now be able to pass through the wards, though you’ll still need me to unlock the door.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Next time you don’t answer, I’ll just pick the lock.”

He laughed, but when he realized she was serious, his face blanched—which was saying something, given his already pale complexion.

Divulging that piece of information may not have been her wisest move, but the look on his face had been worth the risk a thousand times over.

Mavery turned away, failing to suppress a smirk as she surveyed the bookshelves.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Aventus said. “What, exactly, does your work history entail? We never got around to discussing that.”

She trailed a finger along a shelf, leaving a streak in the dust as she considered how much more to divulge. She rubbed her fingers together, and dust particles dissipated into the air. A crumb of truth wouldn’t hurt. Just enough to test his reaction.

“Oh, a bit of this and that. After I left school, I worked as a wardbreaker for a time. That’s where I picked up lockpicking, among other things.”

“Really? I’d always assumed that sort of work was for the unlearned types.”

“ ‘Unlearned types’?” she said stiffly.

“Yes, considering how wardbreaking requires no formal ed—”

“I understood your meaning.”

Unlearned types. Oh, she was going to enjoy robbing this man when the time came.

“Well, it’s unexpected, to say the least,” he said. “I don’t need to see your transcripts to know you are an educated person. For you to partake in a venture like wardbreaking…“ He spat out the word as though it were the most vile profanity.

She spun around, and he recoiled at the pointed look she gave him.

He was still standing in the same spot, still holding that stone.

Briefly, she fantasized about chucking it in his smug face.

She remembered now why she’d stopped working for wizards.

They were an insufferable lot, and this man was proving to be no exception.

Keep it together. Breathe…

After a few heartbeats’ worth of uncomfortable silence, her anger tempered.

She only needed to tolerate his company for as long as it took to thoroughly case his apartment.

At least he didn’t seem the type to put a knife to her throat or a bullet in her gut.

As far as positives went, those were too significant to ignore.

“How about we move past you belittling my former line of work, and on to work that you deem more acceptable?”

He blinked. “Er, yes. Why don’t I make some tea first?”