Page 71 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Neldren’s palm was callused, his grip firm.

It was a mercifully brief handshake. Had it lasted any longer, Alain would be tempted to make this man truly answer for putting a bullet in Mavery’s stomach.

The young woman—Ellice, Alain presumed—eyed Alain with suspicion but made no effort to introduce herself.

“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Neldren asked.

“The last time we spoke, you suggested we work together again,” Mavery said.

“I did.”

Ellice glared at Neldren. “I told you to apologize to her, not recruit her!”

He kept his eyes on Mavery. “I take it you’ve found a job.”

“I have, as a matter of fact.”

“Who’s your buyer?” His eyes flicked to Alain. “Him?”

“No, I am.”

Mavery glanced behind her shoulder before extracting an envelope from the inside pocket of her coat, then slid it across the table. Neldren’s eyebrows raised as he peeked inside. Ellice eagerly craned her neck.

“Five hundred potins,” Mavery said in a low voice. “All accounted for.”

He closed the envelope but placed his hand over it instead of passing it back to her. “If you’re willing to share your newfound wealth, consider me interested. All right, what kind of job are we talking?”

Mavery exchanged a sidelong glance with Alain. “A few years back, you took a job for a wizard at the University of Leyport. We’d like to hire you for that same job.”

He flashed her a wicked smile. “You’ll need to be more specific than that.” There was a particularity with which he phrased that sentence, as if sharing an inside joke.

Mavery sighed. “The Innominate Temple.”

Neldren’s smile flattened. He fell silent as he and Mavery exchanged another knowing look. Ellice glanced between the two of them, confusion etched on her brow.

“What’s the Innominate Temple?” she asked.

“It’s—” Mavery began.

“A godsdamned nightmare of a place,” Neldren said. “Cursed, if you ask me.”

“It’s not cursed,” Alain scoffed. Neldren and Ellice turned to him with mild surprise.

Heat trickled up his neck at the sudden attention, but he pressed on.

“What you encountered was an exceptionally strong concentration of magic—obfuscation and detonation wards, to be precise—though any School of Magic would produce the same effect. It’s simple Etherean magic.

Well, not to imply that magic that’s been in place for over five centuries is simple.

What I mean is, curses are superstition; the magic protecting the Innominate Temple is anything but. ”

Neldren gawked at him. “Er, right… Who did you say you were, again?”

“Someone who’s been researching this ruin for the better part of a decade. Call it a pet project, if you will.”

Neldren sniffed. “Right, research. I take it you’ve never seen the place for yourself.”

“No, I—”

“And that’s where you come in,” Mavery interjected. “We need a guide and, as you can see, we’re willing to pay handsomely for one.”

“Not handsomely enough.” He pushed the envelope back across the table. “No deal. I’m surprised you’d even want to go there, considering—”

“I know what happened last time. But that was years ago, and now I know what to expect.”

“And you think that’s going to make any difference? Forget it. I’m not risking my arse for another wizard.”

Alain blinked. “How did you…?”

Neldren laughed. “Mate, I pegged you as one of them the minute you opened your mouth. You sound just like the wizard who hired me last time around. He also had all sorts of fancy words and research, and you know what they amounted to? Fuck all.”

Scowling, Mavery snatched up the envelope and pushed back her chair. “Come on, Alain. I should’ve known this would be a waste of time. We’ll stick with our original plan and do it ourselves.”

As she stood up, Neldren’s smugness dissipated. “Wait. You’re not seriously going it alone?”

“Why not?” Mavery said. “You may not have any faith in his research, but I know that if anyone can find a way past the warding magic, it’s this man right here.

” Though Alain knew this was part of Mavery’s tactics, just as they’d rehearsed on the trip over, his heart fluttered at that sentiment all the same.

“And, as his reasons are purely academic, he’d be more than willing to share whatever is inside the temple. ”

Neldren snorted. “Whatever’s inside that place is likely as cursed as the outside.”

“Wait,” Ellice said, her eyes lighting up. “Are we talking about treasure, or…?”

“No one knows,” Mavery said before Neldren could interrupt.

As she sat down again, she kept her expression flat, but Alain was close enough to notice the corner of her lips arcing into the faintest hint of a smile.

“For centuries, this place has baffled wizards and historians. Nel’s but one of scores of people they’ve paid to investigate, but no one’s ever been able to find a way inside.

Alain thinks the temple has ties to a Necromancer from the sixth century. ”

“Necromancers?” Neldren groaned. “Oh, fantastic! Then it’s definitely cursed!”

“As I said before,” Alain muttered, “it’s not—”

“Come on, Nel,” Ellice said, “don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of adventure.”

“Only when it comes to that place.”

“You have to admit this sounds better than sitting around and waiting for Vilk to pay us—if he ever pays us. This is the first real job we’ve had in weeks, with a real payment right in front of our eyes.”

Neldren frowned as he muttered to himself. Ellice gazed at him with pleading eyes, a slightly pouted lip. Alain wondered if Mavery had ever used that same look; his stomach soured at the thought.

“Fine,” Neldren sighed. “We’ll help, but make it five hundred each.”

Mavery gawked at him. “A thousand potins? What do I look like, the Dragons’ guildmaster? And what is she going to do?”

“I’m sure I’ll find a way to make myself useful,” Ellice said coolly.

“We’re a crew,” Neldren said. “You hire both of us, or neither of us.”

The money she’d brought to this meeting comprised nearly her entire savings. She’d insisted on using her own funds, as recruiting Neldren was her idea. A thousand potins was an extravagant cost for field research, but Alain would pay any price if it helped him secure his wizard rank.

“Deal,” he said. “Half now, half later, if that works for you.”

Mavery turned to him. “What? No, Alain, don’t—”

“It’s all right.” He reached beneath the table, took her hand.

“Excellent,” Neldren said, gesturing for the envelope. Mavery hesitated before sliding it back across the table. He seized it and tucked it in his coat pocket, denying her the opportunity to change her mind. “So, when are we heading out?”

“As soon as possible,” Alain said. “First thing in the morning, if we can manage it. To make a long story short, we need to get there and return to Leyport within a week’s time.”

Neldren nodded. “I’ll get in touch with some of my contacts, should be easy enough to find someone who can provide us fast and cheap transport out of—”

The end of his sentence was drowned out by an argument that had erupted on the far side of the room.

The shouting was largely incoherent, but Alain gathered that one man had accused another of cheating at cards.

In response, the man chucked a glass at his accuser’s face.

His aim was an entire foot off, and the glass hit the wall in an explosion of brown liquor and sparkling shards.

Alain flinched. Someone else grabbed the glass-thrower by the collar and slammed him against the table.

Wood splintered with a resounding crack that made Alain nearly fall out of his chair.

The bartender bellowed something at the three men, but his voice was quickly lost amid the fervor of a crowd that now craved a tavern brawl.

“We’ll meet you by the train depot at dawn,” Mavery said, nearly shouting over the commotion.

With their business settled, she grasped Alain’s hand and pulled him away from the table. They reached the pub’s back door as chairs began flying across the room.