Page 7 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Four

Atrain whistle sounded, and with a clamor of whinnying, the wagon lurched to a halt.

Mavery dodged crates and barrels as they tumbled forward in the wagon bed, colliding into one another.

Thanks to her protective wards, the abrupt stop hadn’t damaged any merchandise.

She couldn’t say the same for her Compendium of Knowledge, however.

It had slipped from her hands, and then had been promptly crushed beneath a crate of cabbages.

“Sorry about that, Jayne!” the merchant called from the driver’s seat. He’d told her his name was Herold; she’d given him a fake one in return. “The train spooked the horses.”

Mavery groaned as she grabbed one corner of her Compendium.

She was about to pull it free when Herold snapped the reins and the wagon moved forward again.

The cabbage crate slid backward—and took a section of her Compendium along with it.

Mavery emitted a colorful string of expletives as she gathered the torn pages.

Whether out of fear of the unknown, or fear of bruising his ego, Neldren had always been content relying on shadow magic alone.

But dropping out of university had never quelled Mavery’s thirst for knowledge.

Once she’d squeezed as much as she could from Neldren, she’d begun pilfering books while performing jobs.

Thus, her Compendium of Knowledge had been born: hundreds of loose pages, bound together with needle and thread.

A life of constant travel meant she could only carry so many books at a time.

When she finished one, she would cut out the most interesting sections and add them to her Compendium.

Sections would come and go as she grew bored with the material or had committed it to heart.

Arcane knowledge was the one exception. Things like Gardemancy textbooks were difficult to find outside of university campuses and wizards’ libraries, and so anything on magic had a permanent place in her collection.

She’d been poring over those pages on her journey to Leyport, in case the wizard wanted to test her skills.

At least the rogue cabbages hadn’t destroyed anything useful.

The only casualty had been a tedious but thorough chapter on the history of the First Reforms. Unless the wizard was also a historian, she doubted he would quiz her on that.

She lowered herself onto the sacks of grain she’d arranged into a chair.

After being discharged from the infirmary yesterday, she’d tracked down a merchant who was heading to Durnatel, the capital city.

In exchange for some protective wards, he’d promised to drop her off in Leyport.

They had to be close by now. She pulled a section of canvas aside and peered through the gap.

To say Osperland’s largest port city had changed over the years was an understatement.

Much of it had spilled outside the original city walls, and the southern outskirts were now a hive of working-class activity.

Shipyards, fisheries, and factories stretched on for miles.

Beyond that, the landscape was dotted with villages robust enough to be cities in their own right.

The University of Leyport’s five white towers loomed over the heart of the city.

The University was the largest wizarding school in the country, and it boasted one of the largest libraries on the continent—over a hundred thousand books.

But the wizards kept that vast hoard of knowledge behind their warded gates.

It was off-limits to someone like Mavery, who had to make do with her portable, illegally acquired library.

They were still a few miles out, and so she decided to get some rest before the next leg of her journey began. She turned away from the view, closed her eyes, and tried her best to ignore the rattling wagon wheels and distant train whistles.

The wagon stopped outside the city’s southern gate.

She climbed out the back and winced as her feet collided with cobblestone.

Though her arcana allowed her to heal much faster than someone without magical blood, an overnight trip in a cramped wagon had hampered her recovery.

And being in Leyport didn’t help her feel any more refreshed.

Her stomach lurched at the stench of rotting fish and burning coal.

Her ears rang at the endless din of noise.

Even her arcana felt more subdued than usual, as if it, too, wanted to escape all this chaos.

She remembered now why she avoided cities whenever possible. But it was too late to turn back.

“How well do you know your way around Leyport?” she asked Herold.

“Well enough. I stop here at least once a season.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Steelforge Towers?”

“Steelforge Towers?” He scratched his whiskered chin. “Doesn’t ring a… Oh! You must mean the old armory.”

Mavery had only vague memories of an armory along the riverfront. Given her profession, she tended to avoid areas swarming with armed guards.

“Yes, that’s the place,” Herold mused. “They decommissioned the armory fifteen years ago, give or take, when they opened the munitions factory. Completely gutted it and turned it into some hoity-toity apartments.”

Mavery frowned. An apartment building sounded a far cry from a wizard’s tower, but she wouldn’t know until she confirmed it for herself.

“It’s on the north end of the city. Just follow the river for about three miles. You can’t miss it.”

In theory, Herold’s directions had sounded simple. In practice, she was in no condition to walk nearly three miles.

When she reached her destination, she’d worn another hole in her right boot, she was drenched in sweat, and she couldn’t find a muscle that didn’t ache. She almost wished she’d hired a city carriage. But until she knew her plan was feasible, she didn’t have a single copper to spare.

Steelforge Towers was, indeed, the old armory. The enormous red-bricked building resembled a castle. It even had battlements running along its roof, turrets on its northern and southern ends. The entrance—glass double-doors accented with mullions—was definitely not part of the original building.

Nor was the lobby, with its gleaming, black-and-white tiled floor.

The room was flanked by staircases with marble steps and curved wrought-iron balustrades.

A chandelier hung from the ceiling; dozens of tiny lights glowed with warm auras.

Sitting at the desk in the center of the room was an elderly man bearing an umber complexion and a tailored suit.

Perched on his shoulder was a kutauss. This variety of demonspawn resembled a ferret, apart from its red eyes and coal-black fur.

To Mavery’s relief—though probably not to the creature’s—it had been declawed.

Even a tiny scratch from those poisonous claws would stifle a mage’s arcana.

Mavery had learned that the hard way during a job when she’d transported a cage full of kutausses.

The old man gave her a long, scrutinizing look, as if evaluating her appearance: worn boots, ragged trousers, bloodstained blouse, hair ending in a shaggy cut just below her jawline. The kutauss seemed to eye her with an equal amount of suspicion.

“Good day, er, madam,” he said with a forced smile.

Mavery approached the desk and leaned her elbows on the counter. The kutauss hissed. The man recoiled, but his smile didn’t budge.

“A fine day to you, too,” she said. “I’m looking for a wizard who lives here.”

“You are looking for Aventus?” Eyes widening, his smile finally faltered. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t accept visitors.”

The old man flinched again as she reached in her pocket, then relaxed when she only retrieved the newspaper clipping. He donned a pair of spectacles, but he still needed to hold the paper up to his nose to read it.

“Well, it appears I stand corrected.” He handed back the clipping. “You would be the first to call on him in ages. It’s been weeks since I last spoke to him.”

No one else had jumped at the opportunity like she had; that was reassuring.

“Are you sure he’s around?”

“He paid his rent on the first, but he once again failed to pick up his mail. Seeing as you’re heading upstairs, would you mind bringing that to him?”

“Er…all right.”

The man clicked his tongue, and the kutauss hopped onto the desk.

He took his cane and hobbled into an antechamber to the right of the lobby.

While he shuffled papers and emitted a few grunts of exertion, Mavery remained by the desk, trying to avoid eye contact with the kutauss, which was staring at her, unblinking, with its head tilted to one side.

Though it was somewhat cute, its red eyes were unsettling enough to make her shudder.

She could almost understand keeping demonspawn around for protection; she couldn’t fathom keeping one as a familiar.

When the old man returned, she balked at the size of the box in his trembling arms. She took it before his strength failed him.

She’d expected only a handful of mail, but this box was roughly the size of an apple crate, and it was filled to the brim with unopened letters and rolled-up issues of The Leyport Gazette.

The man returned to his chair with a groan, and the kutauss returned to his shoulder.

“I tossed the oldest newspapers,” he said, “and I had half a mind to toss the entire lot. I’ve tried leaving it at his door, but that’s easier said than done.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Sixth floor, apartment six-oh-five. I recommend taking the lift.”

She followed his outstretched hand to the lobby’s back wall.

The lift’s cabin was barely large enough for two people.

She had to place the box at her feet and use both hands to crank the lifting mechanism.

Her arms ached and her forehead gained a new layer of sweat as she slowly ascended to the sixth floor, but she supposed it was preferable to the stairs.