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CHAPTER FOUR

Trying not to swear out loud, I detour toward the doors, where Prentice is busy giving a complete stranger directions to my master’s rooms. As though it’s perfectly normal to let people wander willy-nilly through the Academy of Mages.

“Hello,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “How are you today, Prentice?”

They both look at me, almost startled. “Mage Silverbright!” Prentice smiles back. “Need a favor?” My propensity to bribe people into making my life more comfortable didn’t end when I graduated from being a student.

“Not today, thanks. I couldn’t help overhearing some of what you were both saying. Am I to understand that this man—Wat, isn’t it?”

Farmer Wat nods.

“Yes. Wat is not on the list and doesn’t have an appointment, but you were going to let him in anyway?” You complete imbecile is left unsaid but heavily implied.

“Yes, sir. He needs to bring something to Master Samoine.”

I press my lips together and nod, wondering if he can even hear himself. A quick probe with my magic shows no spells, no compulsion that would influence him this way. I may not be a master, but I’m a very strong telepath—there are only a few people in the world with the skill to craft a compulsion I wouldn’t be able to detect, and most of them are right here in the city. “I see. Well, perhaps he could leave a message and set up an appointment.”

They shake their heads in unison.

“I need to deliver it to him today,” Wat says earnestly. “It came back after all this time.”

Alarm bells screech in my head. “You didn’t happen to encounter any dragons recently, did you?”

His eyes go as wide as saucers. “Dragons?” he breathes. “Fuck no. I wouldn’t know what to do if I saw a dragon.”

So much for that. I don’t know what’s going on here, but my head still aches, I’m hungry, and there’s no way I can allow Wat free access to the academy. “What about if I take whatever it is to Master Samoine? I’m his apprentice.”

“That’s true,” Prentice says helpfully, then shakes his head again. “But no.”

“No?” The incredulous rise in pitch makes the word three syllables long.

“I have to give it to him myself,” Wat informs me. “It’s my duty.”

“Your duty.”

“Yes.”

“To deliver something to Master Samoine.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you’re not an official messenger.”

“I’m a farmer,” he volunteers, as though I couldn’t have guessed that. “I have a lovely little farm in the south of Camblin. If you’re ever traveling through the area, you should stop in. We’re always glad to have visitors.”

I clench my teeth. This is going nowhere. “Could I at least see what it is you need to deliver?”

Obligingly, he digs back into his pocket and pulls out a rock.

The second my gaze lands on it, my stomach fills with lead.

Oh, fuck .

It’s a light-toned gray, irregular-shaped rock of some indeterminate kind of stone. I’ve never seen it before in my life, never seen a picture or a description. But I still know exactly what it is, because it’s not a rock at all.

Tia’s urgent tug at my mind is a distraction I don’t need, and I send a vehement “Not now!” before returning my full attention to the innocuous-looking rock in Wat’s hand.

Fuck the dragons for not being even a tiny bit more specific.

“I’ll take you to Master Samoine” is all I say. Wat and Prentice both beam at me.

“Thanks, Mage Silverbright.” Prentice winks. “I heard there’s going to be a delivery of late harvest wines for the councilors’ cellar in the next few days. Want me to see if any bottles go missing?”

I’m going to need a fucking case. I manage to scrape together a smile and slip him some coins. I don’t have much on me, but he knows I’m good for the rest. “That would be wonderful.” Gesturing to Wat, I start across the hall—sadly, not in the direction of the infirmary. Interestingly, while my headache hasn’t lessened, that blasted brain itch is gone. I cast a sour sidelong glance at the rock in Wat’s hand.

“Could you put that back in your pocket?” I ask him, more or less politely. Everyone is going to know about this soon enough, but I’d rather not cause a panic because some level-1 mage with a loose tongue went blabbing in every alehouse in the city. Besides, for whatever reason, Wat was… told… to deliver to Master Samoine, and that’s what’s going to happen.

He obligingly slips it away, and we make our way through the halls. More than one person looks at us strangely—probably because farmers don’t usually wander around the academy, and I’m not known for having visitors anyway—but I have my very best “talk to me and I will cut you” face on, so nobody dares to waylay us.

I don’t bother to knock before pushing open the door to my master’s rooms. He knows we’re coming. And sure enough, he’s standing in the middle of the room, waiting. His hair is sticking out in all directions as usual, and he hacked off the sleeves of his robe, leaving dozens of loose threads to trail haphazardly, but his face is still and closed, and the aura of his magic clings tightly to him. There can be no doubt of his power.

“Master, this is Wat. He has something for you.” I glance at Wat, who’s already stepping forward. “This is Master Samoine.”

The farmer holds out his hand, the rock in his palm. “Here you go.”

My master’s gaze scrutinizes the stone, then rises to Wat’s face. “You’ve come a long way to bring this.”

It’s not a question, but Wat nods. “Yes, sir! Been two whole weeks since I set out. I got lucky, though. My wife’s brother is a fisherman, and he sailed me all the way to this village on the Lenlese coast. Cut weeks of travel overland that way—maybe even months! Then I found this family, they had to race home in a hurry on account of their manor burning down. They let me ride on the back of their carriage. Whew, that was bumpy! But those horses were fast, and I covered a lot of ground. Only had to walk the last two days. This snow didn’t help much, though. I’ve never even seen snow before. Damn cold, isn’t it?”

Master nods, as though that isn’t one of the weirdest stories he’s ever heard. “And how did you find this?”

Wat shrugs. “I’ve been tilling the fields for the winter planting. We get a nice season of crops through the winter, not like here, where it snows. I went out one morning, and it was just there.”

I can’t hold my tongue. “It was just there.”

“Yep. In the middle of a furrow. I swear it wasn’t there the night before. I’d have noticed a rock that big. Probably would have nicked my blade.”

“What happened then?” Master asks, to Wat’s clear surprise.

“Well… I picked it up, and I knew I had to bring it to you. So I did.”

“Had you heard of me before that?”

Wat shakes his head, brow furrowing. “Now that you ask, I can’t say I had.”

Master Samoine nods and goes to ring the bell for one of the castle staff. “Thank you for your assistance, Wat. Could you please put it in that box on my desk?” He gestures, and I glance over at the box. It’s sat on his desk for as long as I’ve known him. I’ve never seen him open it, never asked what’s inside. It’s just a plain wooden box, about five inches square.

Wat goes to the desk and flips open the box. It’s empty. I flick an inquiring glance at my master, but he just shakes his head. Okay. I can wait.

Once the stone is inside and the lid closed, Master Samoine smiles at Wat. “Thank you. Someone?—”

There’s a knock at the door, and I turn to open it. Jass, who looks after Master’s rooms, is standing there with a smile. “He rang for me?”

I manage to smile back—Jass is always nice, and it’s stupid to get on the wrong side of the staff—and stand back to let him in.

“Ah, Jass. This is Wat. Could you please take him to the kitchens and make sure he gets a decent meal, then arrange a room for him for tonight at an inn in the city? A comfortable one. And in the morning, he’ll need a good horse and provisions for a week of riding. You can ride a horse?” he asks Wat, who nods, jaw dropped.

“Yes, sir, but I don’t need all that. I?—”

“It’s payment for your message safely delivered,” Master Samoine interrupts. “And I must also ask that you do not speak of the message to anyone.”

Seeming somewhat confused, Wat shrugs. “Sir, I don’t even understand the message. It all sounded like gibberish to me. I just repeated what I was told.”

I look at him sharply. Does he not remember the rock? Does he think he really just delivered a spoken message?

Master thanks him again, and Jass leads him out into the hall. I wait until the door closes to say, “Holy fucking turds of the gods.”

The smile that appears on my master’s face seems involuntary. “Tell me what happened.”

I fill him in, from the moment I decided to go to the infirmary right up until we reached his door. He’s silent for a moment.

“You know what it is, then?”

I’m scared to say the words aloud, so I nod.

“Talon.” He’s not going to let me get away with that. I suck in a deep breath.

“The life stone.”

My words seem to echo through the room. The life stone. Also known as the source of all creation. I scrape through distant memories, trying to recall anything that might be useful. Truthfully, I barely paid attention during our second-year class on the prophecies. I mean, everyone knows that prophecies happen during someone else’s lifetime, right? I never expected to have to actually live through a prophetic event. That’s for legends and dreamers.

It's not like the prophecies are all that clear, anyway. And on that note…

“Now what?”

The look my master gives me tells me he knows exactly how little devotion I gave to studying prophecy. “Perhaps before we move on, you should assure Tia that you’re well.”

Gods’ turds—Tia. I blew her off, and she’ll be pissed and worried.

“But be sparing with details,” Master adds. “See if the dragons have anything new to add.”

Sure, sure. Tell her nothing but dig for information. That totally won’t make her suspicious. I reach out through our bond.

“I’m okay. Sorry. I was dealing with a magic situation.” There, that’s pretty vague.

Her mental touch tells me she doesn’t believe a word of it. “Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s… complicated. Still some things to sort out. I’ll try to meet you for dinner, but not sure if it’ll happen.” Which reminds me, I need lunch. Lack of food isn’t going to help this headache.

“Are you sick? Something isn’t right.”

Aw. She really loves me. “A headache. I’ll see a healer when I have a second. I’m fine, Tia, I promise.”

“So you wouldn’t have any idea why the dragons are all restless today?”

I meet Master’s gaze.

“Are they? Why? Something to do with the other week?”

Her mental sigh is clear and makes me feel guilty. “I don’t know. They’re being very closemouthed. I’m worried about Leicht.”

Yep, lots and lots of guilt. It’s not a common feeling for me, and I don’t like it.

“Leicht will be fine. You know dragons have their own fucked-up culture. He’ll share with you when he can. I have to go—I’ll let you know if I can make it to dinner.” I break the connection before she can reply.

“The dragons are restless but not talking,” I report. “I guess that means they can sense that .” I point to the box. “Why do you even have an empty box sitting on your desk? You’re not a useless-trinket kind of person. Did you know this would happen?” The least he could have done was warn me.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have chosen a different career path,” he retorts, and something settles inside me. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one who’s thrown by this. “I’ve had that box for nearly thirty years, and I never had any clue why. One day I just had an urge to have it made. It’s sat there, unused, and every time I decide to get rid of it, I end up changing my mind.” He shakes his head. “Fucking prophecy.”

“I’ll second that. So… is it a special box?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles. “It’s a box. How can a box be special?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Does it maybe prevent anyone from sensing the stone?”

“Can you sense it?” he demands.

I shrug. “No, but… I didn’t sense it before either. Not until Wat showed it to me.”

Master frowns, and I feel a light surge of magic from him. “Try a search,” he suggests.

I blink. “For what? A rock? Master, this whole city is made of stone.”

I get another one of those looks. “There’s only one stone here that’s the essence of all life, Talon.” Somehow, he even makes my name sound like “idiot.” It’s a skill he has. I’m still working on perfecting it.

Instead of protesting that I wouldn’t even know how to search for the life stone—the most basic rule of searching is that you have to understand what the thing you’re searching for is—I just go along with him and give it a shot. Then I can tell him I failed and?—

“Gods’ turds!”

“So it seems the box doesn’t protect it from being found by those who are searching,” Master muses. “We’re going to have to find a diff?—”

We both freeze. In unison, we turn toward the box, jaws agape.

“Did… did that rock just disagree with us?” I whisper. I heard nothing, but…

“I certainly felt a strong sensation of disagreement.” Master Samoine takes a step toward the box.

“It’s sentient ?”

Master gives me a withering look. “It’s the source of all creation , Talon. I hardly think it having sentience should be such a surprise.”

Maybe not for him, but I’ve never come across a sentient rock before, and I find it plenty surprising.

“Well, if it’s capable of communicating, perhaps it could tell us what the—” I bite back an invective. It might be a rock, but it is the source of all creation, and I probably shouldn’t swear at it. “What the next steps are?”

Instead of an answer, I get the feeling of mocking laughter. The rock has an attitude problem.

Master’s lips twitch. “I don’t think it can communicate with words,” he suggests, and yes, there’s agreement. Okay. So we’re dealing with nonverbal, nonvisual cues.

“Yes or no questions, then,” I murmur, and Master nods approvingly. “Did you influence Wat and everyone who helped him in order to get here?” That’s an easy one, since I’m about 99.999 percent sure it’s true.

Agreement—and smug satisfaction. It’s proud of how it manipulated things. Great. A rock with an ego.

“Why Wat’s farm?” I ask, purely out of curiosity. “Why not just directly here?”

Exasperation and annoyance.

“Fine, don’t answer then,” I mutter. Master gives me a hard nudge and a warning look.

“Are you only searchable to those who you wish to know of your location and presence?” he asks. Grudgingly, I concede that it’s probably a more important question.

The stone obviously agrees, because in addition to a strong affirmative, there’s approval. This is so unbelievable. A rock is talking to us via emotional responses.

“Very well,” Master acknowledges. “Do you wish for us to keep your presence here secret?”

I blink as a very confusing sensation of yes and no overtakes me. I haven’t felt this indecisive since I was twelve years old, stealing sweets from the larder, and only had room in my pocket for one tart—lemon or raspberry. Cook nearly caught me, but I sneaked out just in time—after breaking the tarts into pieces and taking half of each. She was convinced mice had gotten to them and threw the remainder away. I would have felt bad, but… I still had my share.

Master, clearly not being privy to my reminiscences, says, “Secret from some but not all?”

A definite positive response to that, and he nods in satisfaction. “The Council of Mages?”

~Yes~

“The support staff?”

~Yes/No~

“Some of the support staff?”

~Yes~

I think of the sheer number of support staff and dearly hope we don’t need to go through each of them by name. I’m not sure I even remember all their names. Some of them are too annoying for that privilege.

Master doesn’t seem fazed, though, and starts from the top of the list. “Apprentices only?”

~Yes/No~

We both pause. Only some of the apprentices? That’s going to ruffle feathers.

“Hmm.” Master Samoine’s expression turns speculative. “Talon?”

~Yes~

Oh goody. Yay for me.

To my surprise, instead of listing any other names, Master says, “Any other apprentices?”

~No~

My jaw drops—again. I’m going to have to break the habit of being surprised by a hunk of rock. It’s not dignified. But… does the life stone like me? Why, for the love of all that’s holy?

Or maybe it just wants to torment me. That’s far more likely.

Master seems to take it in stride. “Anyone else from the support staff?”

~No~

“Anyone else at all?”

~Yes~

We exchange glances. “Representatives from the dragon riders and healers?” I suggest. They have their own senior councils, academies, and structures within the city. We more or less work in harmony, with representatives from each council invited to take part in most meetings of each.

~Yes~

“Just their council chairs?” Master asks.

~No~

“Their entire councils?”

~Yes~

“Support staff?”

~No~

This is getting easier.

“Anyone else?”

~No~

Phew. There are still thousands of others living in the city—if we’d had to start guessing, it could have become very tedious.

“Are we calling the meeting immediately?”

A very decided yes.

“Very well then.” Master turns to me. “Could you please send word of an immediate, closed emergency meeting of all three councils, to take place in our council chamber here? There should be room, if you’re the only apprentice there.”

I try not to let my feelings show on my face. A “closed” meeting means councilors only, and whoever brings word of it is always asked dozens of questions. I don’t like being interrogated. “Of course.”

“And send word to the kitchen for refreshments to be provided. This may take some time.”

I nod, already halfway to the door. Lunch. Yes, please.

“And Talon?”

“Yes, Master?” I half turn to look at him.

“Before you do any of that, go to the infirmary and have that headache seen to. I need you at your best.”

“Thank you.” The life stone turning up and a closed emergency meeting of all three councils? My best isn’t going to be nearly good enough.