CREATING THE RIBBON
was even easier than he’d thought it would be. Not wanting to make too close a match, Timo had decided to pattern his ribbon on the velvet material that edged the curtains in Rorik’s dining hall. Barra had slipped him a swatch of fabric during their next library session and it had taken only one small spell to create a ribbon that matched the colour perfectly. He’d taken a gamble that the velvet would do but still, he’d been surprised at her squeal of excitement when he’d given it to her.
“I couldn’t find silk,” Timo lied. “I hope this will do.”
“It’s perfect,” Barra breathed. “I didn’t even hope for velvet.” She ran her hand along the plush fabric, a smile on her face. “What do you think?” She lifted the ribbon up to her hair.
“It brings out the colour of your eyes,” Timo said, repeating something he’d heard Annya tell his mother years ago.
Barra nodded. “That’s why I chose this colour for my dress.” She wound the ribbon around her hand before gently packing it into her satchel. “Come on, Hestor’s waiting for us at the Hall of Records. You need to keep quiet. Don’t say anything unless Hestor asks you a question. I’ll do what I can to keep him happy, but it won’t be easy.”
No, Timo thought, keeping Hestor happy would not be easy. He’d never even seen the man smile.
The Hall of Records was adjacent to the Council Chambers where Timo had met with Kara Fonti, Santos Nimali, and the Assassin Reo. Hestor, pacing in front of the double doors, frowned when he saw them.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Sorry,” Barra said. “It was my fault. I completely forgot how long it would take to get here from the library and I insisted that we go through the garden. It’s so pretty this time of year, don’t you think?” She beamed a smile up at Hestor, and to Timo’s surprise, the man relaxed and smiled back.
“No harm done,” Hestor said. “It was only a few minutes.” He turned to Timo and scowled. “Let’s go.”
Hestor stopped directly in front of the double doors that led into the Hall. A line of topaz mage mist unwound from his wrist and traced a pattern on the doors. The mist sank into the wood of the doors, and they swung open.
“You have one hour,” Hestor said. He let Barra enter the room before he reached a hand across to the door frame, blocking Timo’s path. “If you do anything to get either me or Barra in trouble you’ll regret it, Apprentice,” Hestor whispered in Timo’s ear.
Timo nodded and followed Barra in. His eyes followed the line of shelves up and up, each shelf lined with books and scrolls. Far away he saw a skylight and beyond it, white clouds. He heard a soft click and looked behind him. The door had closed.
“I forgot that you’d never been in here,” Barra said, studying him. “Why is that? I don’t want to do anything to get me in trouble.” She paused. “Or that would make your mother angry with me.”
“Don’t worry, she’d be angry with me, not you. Besides, Rorik should have brought me here, but between his Council and Primus duties, he just hasn’t had time. Everyone is allowed in here once they find their talent.”
“That’s true,” Barra agreed. She nodded, and her shoulders relaxed. “Do you need help finding anything? In case the spells are beyond your talent?”
“Thanks.” Timo nodded. “I should be fine.” He ignored the pitying look Barra gave him and instead headed down the aisle towards a work table he saw.
Barra went in the opposite direction. She, like everyone, believed he was weak, that his magical abilities were almost non-existent.
Timo shook his head. He wasn’t even sure why he was supposed to hide his talent, though he was certain it was what Rorik and his mother wanted. The one time he’d tried discussing it with Rorik the man had been emphatic that he should accept his limitations. And it was pointless trying to talk to his mother—Arabella Fonti didn’t tell her son
anything
. At least not the truth. Which was why he was here, looking through the records.
Timo whispered his father’s name and pointed up, towards the distant skylight. Mauve mage mist sped from his finger and trailed up, twisting around a bookshelf. It stopped moving, and Timo snapped his fingers. The mage mist rushed down, a leather-bound book trailing it. After a few more searches, Timo had a stack of books piled up on his desk, each with a date etched into its spine.
There, that book had the most recent date—the year he was born, the year his father died. He opened the book to the last page and peered at the script. He flipped back a few pages and started reading, his fingers tracing the words on the page.
It was an account from an eyewitness, one of the guards who helped his father track down Kara and Reo.
Mage Guild Secundus Valerio Valendi had led the search for Kara Fonti and the Assassin, Reo Medina. According to the guard, the Secundus told him that those they pursued had no magical talents but that the Assassin was a danger if they got too close. The guard and his partner defended one end of an alley while the Secundus secured the other, trapping the two suspects.
The guard said the suspects ducked and then his partner was hit and killed by what he assumed was a spell. In the next few minutes, the buildings and fences that lined the alley were damaged in magical attacks. Then the Assassin ran forward, the girl shouted and waved her arms, and the Secundus was blown all the way to the mouth of the alley. The guard viewed the body—it was in exactly the same state as his partner. There was no doubt in his mind that the same type of spell killed both men. Spells that could not have been created by the suspects.
Timo leaned back, his hand on the page in front of him. This was Mage Guild’s official account of Valerio Valendi’s death, and it matched what Kara Fonti had told him. It seemed—unlike his mother—his sister had told him the truth. But did that mean everything else she’d said was true?
Timo picked up another book, the one with the earliest date. He hoped to find out if his father had cursed Santos Nimali.
“ARE YOU FINISHED
?” Barra asked.
Timo dropped the book onto the table, startled.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I got caught up in what I was reading.”
Barra peered at the book’s spine. “Huh, sounds pretty dull. I thought you might be trying to find the secrets of Primus Santos Nimali.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because everyone does that the first time they come here,” Barra said. “He had a book, a journal that he wrote all his spells in—that’s what I’ve heard.” She leaned closer. “Some say that’s what drove him mad. He had too many spells, too many dangerous, evil spells all kept in one place, all in that journal. He got them confused when he was trying to use them against someone and ended up cursing himself.” She straightened up. “At least that’s the rumour. Now he’s mad and they keep him on Old Rillidi so he can’t cause any damage.” She turned towards the entrance to the room. “Come on, Hestor will be here soon.”
“All right,” Timo said. “Just let me return these.” According to Santos and Kara, Santos went mad because he’d been cursed, not because he had a journal full of dangerous spells. But Valerio Valendi had been Santos’ Journeyman, his best and most powerful student. He would have known about the journal. Had he wanted it for himself? Nothing he’d just read proved Valerio cursed Santos but his actions showed him to be ruthless and ambitious—a man Timo thought capable of cursing his Master in order to steal his spells.
Barra was out of sight so Timo flung his right hand out over the books. Mage mist raced from his outstretched hand and passed over the books that were stacked on the table. He flicked his hand up, and the mage mist split, each strand now returning a book to the shelf it had come from. Once the books were in place, he lowered his hand and sighed.
A mother who’d tried to have her own daughter assassinated and a father who’d probably cursed the man who’d trained him. Would he end up like them? Consumed by his own ambition? Threatened by the people closest to him?
“Hestor’s here,” Barra said from the aisle. “Let’s go.”
“Coming,” Timo said. After one final glance to make sure he hadn’t left anything out of place, Timo hurried after her.
Hestor frowned at him as he joined them. A flick of the older boy’s wrist sent mage mist spinning around the door. It opened and Barra stepped through. Hestor followed her. Timo was about to fall in behind him.
“Barra, Hestor, I trust you are well today?”
It was his mother’s voice, coming from the hallway, just outside the doors. Timo quickly slipped behind the open door, trying to hide. His mother would be furious if she found he’d been in the Hall of Records.
“Yes, Secundus,” Barra said. “We’re quite well. Thank you for enquiring.” Timo cringed at the fawning tone in Barra’s voice, but his mother would probably welcome it.
“And hard at work I see,” Arabella Fonti replied.
Hestor stopped in the doorway, beside Barra. Timo sidled away from the door, backed down an aisle, and crouched beside a shelf.
“Of course, Secundus Fonti,” Hestor said. “It’s important to make sure Apprentices keep up with all aspects of their studies. Although Barra is so diligent that she hardly needs my encouragement.”
“Very good,” Arabella said. “I won’t keep you. No doubt you have more studies to attend to.”
“Yes, of course,” Hestor said.
From his vantage point Timo saw him hesitate and then look behind him, into the Hall of Records.
“Good day to you, Secundus,” Hestor finally said, bowing slightly.
“And to you,” came the reply, this time from further away.
Timo straightened and headed towards the door.
“Sorry,” he said when he reached the others, holding up his satchel. “I forgot this and had to go back for it.”
“Did you?” Hestor asked.
“You missed your mother,” Barra said. “I mean the Secundus.” She frowned. “You could have told her what a fine student I was.” Barra turned to Hestor and smiled. “Although Hestor very generously praised me to her. It may even work out better this way. Once Timo compliments me she will have heard two good opinions.”
“I think mine would carry more weight than Timo’s,” Hestor said, sending a dark look Timo’s way.
“Of course,” Barra said. “But it wasn’t something I could ask you to do. The fact that you did it is wonderful, though.”
Timo followed the other two out into the hall. Would Barra be able to get Hestor to help him again? He wanted to find out what the records said about Santos Nimali. He needed to know more about the man he was planning his future around—the man who would hopefully conduct his Journeyman training.
“HOW DARE YOU
disobey me?”
Timo looked up from his work table. His mother stood in the doorway, glaring at him. Rorik hovered behind her. She stepped into the room, and Timo sighed and placed his pen on the table.
“What have I done now, Mother?” He knew though. She’d found out about his trip to the Hall of Records.
“You were told not to,” she said. “And yet you entered the Hall anyway. By recruiting a pair of unwitting accomplices.” Arabella walked over to the table, leaned over, and smiled grimly. “Don’t count on either them or anyone else helping you in the future.”
“It wasn’t their fault,” Timo said.
“No, but they will both pay a price nonetheless,” Arabella said. She sat down in the chair opposite him. “By not asking enough questions, they helped you do something that both Rorik and I had forbidden.”
“It’s not fair to refuse me entry,” Timo said.
“That’s not your decision,” Arabella replied.
“It shouldn’t be yours either,” Timo muttered.
“What did you say?” His mother straightened up and raised her eyebrows as purple mage mist swirled around her.
“You heard me,” he said louder. “My studies should be a matter between me and my Master, but somehow every time Rorik should be giving me instructions, there you are, telling me what to do as if it’s your right. Well, it’s not your right. It hasn’t been your right since I was eight and found my talent. Why don’t you get your own Apprentice and leave me alone?”
Arabella’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned back into the chair. Rorik glared at Timo from behind her, but he didn’t say anything, and Timo shook his head in disgust.
“You will not visit the Hall of Records again,” his mother said.
“I think that should come from my Master, don’t you?” Timo said. He met Rorik’s gaze. “Does she speak for you, Rorik? Even in this?”
The older man held his gaze for a few seconds. “She does. It’s for your own good.”
“An Apprentice should be able to respect his Master,” Timo said. “But I can’t respect you, not when all you do is follow my mother’s directions.”
Rorik’s face paled slightly, but that was his only response. His mother’s lips tightened, and she stood up and turned to leave.
“You’re too late, you know,” Timo said. “I read all about my father, the great Valerio Valendi. He was not a man to be proud of.”
Arabella whirled and leaned over the desk, her face inches from his.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snarled. “He was brilliant.”
“Maybe so,” Timo said. His mother’s mage mist swirled violently around her upper body. “But he had no morals. He used everyone around him, even those who meant him no harm.”