Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
I eye Kipp, whom I know and trust.
I regard Arrod, whom I don’t know well, and don’t know if I can trust. But if they’re protecting me, they’re supposed to know something, right? I decide to go vague. “Raptor says he knows of someone who could talk to dead people. They could help us speak with Hemmen.”
Kipp’s expression remains unfazed.
Arrod brightens. “Like a mancer? That’s a really good idea. I had no idea they still existed. You think we can find one?”
“Mancing is illegal.”
“So is gambling on Sevensday, but you don’t see anyone paying attention to that law.” He shrugs. “You think a mancer would help us?”
“Rooster doesn’t want us to try,” I remind him, but even as I say the words, they make me angry. Head Guild Master Rooster knows he’s safe. No one’s going to target him. Meanwhile, every repeater is going to be wondering if they’re the next target. Someone else could die. More priceless artifacts could be stolen from the guild, irreplaceable things that could make a big difference to the artificers who get paid on the sale of objects.
These thieves could target me again. They could target Kipp or Arrod. If Arrod’s theory is right, they wouldn’t because we’re “failures” already. Hemmen’s dead, so he can’t repeat again, but what if Arrod’s wrong? What if there’s another reason, and the guild continues to watch and wait until some other innocent gets their throat cut?
Because I don’t think Hemmen was a bad guy. I think he was naive and got himself caught up in a bad situation. I think perhaps he needed whatever money these thieves offered him, and he probably needed it desperately. I can’t hate on anyone for chasing coin.
If Hemmen had known his death was a possibility, I doubt he would have gotten involved. All he wanted was to read books.
And Rooster wants to wait until another repeater dies, another repeater who might be desperate for income after failing to become an artificer. Another repeater who needs saving from themselves.
I’m tired of waiting for someone else to decide what I should do. “This is stupid. We have the means to get answers, and the guild won’t let us.”
“You think they’re afraid?” Arrod asks. “Because I’m mucking afraid!”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me! I don’t want to sit around and wait for someone to cut my throat just because they think I’m connected to Hemmen.” There’s a panicked look on his face. “If a mancer has the answers we need, why wouldn’t we ask them to help?”
“Because mancing is outlawed.”
“It’s a stupid law, because we deal with magic all the time!” He gestures around us. “It’s in every object we pull out and that’s fine, but not if someone tries to help us stop a murder because it’s coming from a person? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
Oh, I know. And it makes me upset, too. I glance over at Kipp, gauging his reaction. He seems equally distressed, and I wonder if I should trust them with my secret. Mucking hells, it’s starting to feel as if I’m blabbing it to the entire city, but what other option do I have? Wait for someone else to die? Wait for someone else to solve all my problems?
Or do I finally take charge?
I think for a moment more and then put my hands on Arrod’s shoulders. “Calm down. We’re going to fix this.”
“How?”
“I need to go visit Sparrow at the archives.” I pause and then add, “And if either of you mentions any of what we do this afternoon, I’m going to deny it all and say you were drinking. Understand?”
Arrod’s eyes go wide. “Deny what?”
Kipp studies me and then points a finger in my direction.
I nod. “It’s me. I’m the mancer, and I’m not waiting for the guild. We’re going to get Sparrow, and then we’re going to talk to Hemmen and get the answers we need.”
“Oh, thank all the gods,” Arrod breathes, relieved.
Forty-Five
Gwenna
Hours later, we’ve met up with Sparrow at the archives. She’s hard at work, surrounded by no less than four cats sprawled across her desk as she pores over a large book with cribbed handwriting, her glasses perched on her nose. The archives are bustling, with most of the other archivists currently documenting a large haul that one particular Five just brought in for cataloging. Her husband is busy training his fledglings, and she’s surprised to hear that Raptor’s been pulled for a retrieval mission. “That’s strange that they’d call a repeater and not a guild master.”
I shrug. “It came with an official-looking wax seal on it. Maybe they thought Hawk was busy? Either way, we need your help.”
I explain to her the situation—that Rooster refuses to use my mancer abilities, that he’d rather wait until someone else is dead, and that we’re going to take matters into our own hands. Before I can even finish, she’s nodding her head and grabbing a book off her desk. “Yes, of course I’ll come with you to brush up on your Prellian glyphs,” she says loudly. “Anything for a friend.”