Page 22 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)
If she couldn’t find it, or if it no longer existed, she’d have to construct an entirely new one.
Worse, she’d probably need to enlist Evryn’s assistance in crafting it, since the darn thing appeared to be made largely of lumyrite.
The latter prospect filled her with dread, as Evryn would undoubtedly contrive some unnecessarily convoluted arrangement that —
“These specifications call for enormous quantities of raw lumyrite,” Evryn said, interrupting her thoughts. “Where precisely do you imagine I’m to acquire such materials for the deteriorated components that require replacement in the original Dreamland infrastructure?”
Mariselle looked up, genuinely puzzled by the question. “Your family owns lumyrite mines, Rowanwood. Surely you have access to whatever quantities you require.”
“I cannot simply appropriate lumyrite for personal projects,” he protested. “The mines operate as a business enterprise. Every crystal is accounted for, every allocation documented. I cannot merely wander into the vaults and help myself to whatever strikes my fancy.”
“Then you shall have to devise a plan,” Mariselle replied. “I have every confidence in your resourcefulness. After all, you’ve proven quite adept at creative solutions when it suits your purposes.” She paused meaningfully before adding, “Have you not, E. S. Twist? ”
The reminder of their arrangement had its intended effect. Evryn sighed, rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to the architectural drawings with resigned acceptance. “Very well. I’ll determine what can be managed.”
“Excellent.”
Silence descended upon the cottage as they each immersed themselves in their respective studies.
The occasional rustle of parchment and soft exhalation of concentration were the only sounds disturbing the evening tranquility.
Mariselle traced her fingertip along the yellowed pages, following her grandfather’s elegant script as it guided her through increasingly complex explanations of the dream core’s purpose and function.
Her breath caught when she turned to a page containing a meticulously rendered illustration.
There, depicted in exquisite detail, was the dream core itself—a perfect sphere crafted from both a dull silvery metal and translucent lumyrite crystal.
Intricate patterns had been etched across its entire circumference, flowing designs she was yet to determine the meaning of.
She scanned several more pages, searching for any mention of the core’s physical location within the original structure, but found none.
With a sigh, she pushed her chair back and stood, then crossed the room behind Evryn’s chair and stopped in front of the bookshelf.
Her fingers traced along the spines of leather-bound volumes and weathered journals, pausing occasionally to pull one free and examine its contents before returning it to its place.
Near the bottom shelf, she discovered a wooden box with tarnished brass hinges.
She lifted the lid carefully, revealing yellowed pages filled with what appeared to be scorekeeping records—columns of numbers beneath a series of initials: V, R, K, N, T.
She frowned. Whatever this was, it had nothing to do with the dream core.
With a disappointed sigh, she replaced the lid and returned the box to its position.
She continued her methodical investigation of the shelves, pulling out folios and rifling through loose papers.
Frustration mounted as she realized the vital information she sought was likely contained in the documents she had so imperiously handed over to Evryn.
She returned to the table and sat. Yes, she was going to have to ask him. “I need those?—”
“I’m going outside,” Evryn announced at the same moment she began speaking .
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you going outside?”
“To compare these diagrams with what remains of the structure,” he replied, rising from his chair and gathering several of the architectural plans.
“That will have to wait,” she countered. “We must first locate the dream core.”
Evryn exhaled dramatically, his shoulders slumping in theatrical exasperation. “And what, pray tell, is a dream core?” he asked with profound disinterest.
“The magical focal point of the entire operation. It’s—” She waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind the details. We need to find it.”
“Well,” Evryn drawled, “since my side of the project can apparently wait, do you suppose you might be able to locate this crucial object without my assistance? I could perhaps join you on some other evening when?—”
Mariselle stood once more, her chair scraping against the floor. “Would you start taking this seriously? Have you forgotten that the contract won’t release either of us until Dreamland has been properly restored?”
“Or,” Evryn muttered, just loudly enough to ensure she would hear, “until you recognize the sheer lunacy of this entire endeavor and abandon it, whereupon we find a competent professional to remove these binding marks for us.”
“That,” she said sharply, “is not happening. Now bring those drawings over here and help me locate the dream core.”
Evryn approached the table and laid the drawings before her with exaggerated care, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the parchment. “And what if this precious core no longer exists?”
“It should. According to what I’ve just read, it was designed to be virtually indestructible. A necessary precaution given its central importance to the entire enterprise.”
She exhaled a long breath, releasing some of her frustration, and turned the book she’d been reading toward him so he could examine the illustration more closely.
“This is what we’re looking for. We need to locate and retrieve it before any other work can proceed.
Everything else depends upon having a functional dream core. ”
Evryn studied the diagram with reluctant interest. “I believe I saw this somewhere,” he murmured after several moments.
“I think it was …” He reached for the scattered drawings, leafing through them in search of one in pa rticular.
He pulled one out and laid it atop the others, then bent low over the table and traced a finger toward the center of the design.
“Ah, yes.” He rotated the diagram to face Mariselle and tapped a spot with his index finger.
“Does that look like it? At the very heart of the central pavilion.”
Mariselle leaned over the drawing, narrowing her eyes until she could read the tiny label alongside the illustration nestled within the intricate lines of the blueprint.
“Yes, that’s it!” she exclaimed. She straightened, rolled up the diagram, and thrust it into Evryn’s hands.
“Come along. We have excavation work ahead of us.”
“Very well,” Evryn said with a long-suffering sigh. “Lead on, my industrious little badger.”
Mariselle shot him a warning glare. “We are not in public, Rowanwood. Your nauseating endearments are unnecessary.”
“Forgive me. Old habits.”
“Oh, and bring that lantern,” she added, pointing to the brass-framed lantern hanging on a hook behind the door.
She grasped the handle and pulled the door open before stepping into the cool night air.
Evryn followed, lantern in hand and the rolled-up diagram tucked beneath one arm.
She reached past him to shut the door as his magic flared briefly, igniting the dull crystal at the lantern’s center.
Warm golden light bloomed, casting long shadows across the ground.
Mariselle turned and faced the darkened ruins, a shiver of anticipation coursing through her veins. “Come on,” she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
They left the cottage and made their way along the overgrown path that led toward Dreamland’s ruins.
In the darkness, the intricate silvery patterns of their matching marks glowed faintly.
As they walked, Mariselle found herself struck once again by the melancholy beauty of the abandoned attraction.
In daylight, the ruins possessed a romantic quality.
Elegant decay softened by moss and climbing vines.
But at night, with shadows pooling around the broken arches and what remained of the pavilion frame, the destruction seemed more profound.
“Just imagine what it once was,” she said, her voice growing wistful.
“A grand pavilion tent stretched across this frame, shimmering with magic. A flag flying from the highest point, visible from anywhere in town. That archway over there was the grand entrance, leading directly to the pavilion where rich curtains were drawn back like the opening to some magnificent stage, welcoming visitors inside. One day soon, Rowanwood, we shall see it restored to its former splendor.”
“Perhaps,” Evryn said, sounding entirely unconvinced, “though I still maintain this is folly.” They picked their way over a cluster of nightveil orchids, almost invisible in the shadows with their near-black petals.
“Even if we manage to locate this dream core, and even if we somehow acquire the necessary materials and complete the reconstruction, what makes you believe Dreamland will be a success second time around? The original closed under rather spectacular circumstances, as I recall.”
“The original closed because a Rowanwood and a Brightcrest could not agree on how to run it, and that resulted in devastating failure. Your great-uncle wanted more recognition for himself instead of all the acclaim going to my grandfather for constructing such a magnificent wonder, so he began recklessly experimenting with dangerous lumyrite configurations that resulted in the destabilization of the entire operation.”