Legend of the Ravenstone (20 page)

The scribe shook his head. “Your daughter....”

“Daughter?” Jinx exclaimed. “She’s not—you mean Ruby? No, she’s not—she’s a friend. I—I don’t even really know what she is.”

“Fredrick,” the other watchman said, “just let her go with him.”

The scribe bit his lip and stared at Ruby from over the desk. “If she can’t sign the paper, she will be listed as your pet.”

“Pet?” Jinx glanced at her, and Ruby seemed genuinely insulted, her little arms folded, her lips in a pout. “Uh, okay. Whatever.” He patted her head consolingly.

They were too eager to leave the office, and it was with some relief that they rejoined Hawkwing, who was gazing over the river.

“I assume you are in their records,” Arcturus said tightly, “and have already undergone this triviality.”

“You are officially in Jumull now,” Hawkwing said.

“Great,” Jinx mumbled. “So what now?”

“Just a moment,” Arcturus said, holding up a hand. “To what did we attribute our signature?”

“It was an agreement,” Hawkwing said, “that by entering Jumull, you are subject to a spell of memory. Once you leave the city, you will not remember its name or its location.”

“Surely you jest,” Arcturus exclaimed.

Hawkwing merely looked at him.

“No, no—I have forgotten,” the Markanturian said dramatically, “that all my questions should be addressed to William.”

“I will take you to him if you’re ready,” Hawkwing said.

“By all means.” Arcturus straightened his attire. “The walk will give me time to compose my sentiments.”

They did not have far to walk, following the paths cast in a myriad of colors, crossing the stately bridge that spanned the river, and finally reaching the tower they had seen at a distance. There were windows and balconies at every level, and the pinnacle was capped with a crystalline dome. Hawkwing reached for the door just as the ground rumbled beneath their feet. A window above them erupted in a burst of glass and colored smoke.

“Jedinom’s Sword!” Jinx cried, and Ruby clamped to his leg. He bent down to inspect something that had been ejected from the window.

Arcturus sighed, and Hawkwing opened the door.

“Should we just walk in?” Kariayla asked, uncertain.

“We are expected,” Arcturus said, “though I would stress an attitude of caution.”

“String,” Jinx blurted from behind them. He held up a fistful of colorful strands. “See?” He handed them to Kariayla, whose brow furrowed at the bizarre find.

Arcturus shook his head and proceeded inside. The others followed, and Hawkwing shut the door behind them. They were encircled by a spacious atrium with a marble floor and rugs the size of a one-room cottage. A fire burned from a depression in the center of the room, the tongues turning green, red, or blue as they disappeared without any hint of smoke. There were couches and chairs surrounding the fire, like friends gathered at a camp, waiting for stories. The stories were there, too, shelved against the walls in whatever size their bindings assumed. The pattern of books was only broken by an occasional door—five in all, and each completely different in size, shape and color.

“Them’s alotta books,” Jinx murmured, already strolling around the perimeter, his fingers grazing against the spines as he walked by. “Never been in a fancy place like this.” There was sudden movement from one of the shelves just ahead of him—a flash of white in the firelight—as the statuesque hawk left its perch to rejoin its tall companion.

Jinx gave a shout and then wiped his brow when he realized what had startled him. “Just Snowfire,” he breathed. “I didn’t know she was here.”

“She knows this place well,” Hawkwing said. “Bill should know we have arrived.”

“Because the bird told him, of course,” Arcturus muttered under his breath, inspecting the books himself.

Kariayla shared his focus. “He has his own library,” she said. “But how can it be so much bigger inside? Is it some sort of illusion?”

“You may question much of what you see in William’s presence,” Arcturus told her, “but never doubt that what you find is real. I abandoned hope of solving his mysteries long ago; he never has the inclination to explain much of anything.”

As if the Markanturian’s words had summoned him, one of the five doors opened, and out stepped a well-dressed, middle-aged man. He carried himself like a noble, but there was an easiness in his expression that could give way to spontaneity. His trousers were rolled up to mid-calf, his feet stained in shades of red, blue, and gold. Scraps of thread clung to him as though he had walked through a multicolored spider web. He smiled and took a few steps forward, rainbow footprints left in his wake. “The loom has exploded,” he announced.

“Of course,” Arcturus said dryly. Kariayla and Jinx exchanged a glance.

“Arcturus. Hawkwing.” The man gave them each a courteous nod before approaching Kariayla. He bowed gracefully, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “Bill at your service, my dear.”

“Kariayla,” she said, blushing.

The wizard straightened and turned to Jinx. “I can see that you are most impressed with my collection of moths.” He strode to where the thief stood, bewildered, and withdrew a book from the shelf. “You have a fair eye for this sort of thing, I can tell.” He opened the book, and a dozen colorful moths fluttered off the page and wandered toward the fire, where they immediately fizzled in the flames. “I should have seen that coming.” He tossed the book aside and held out his hand. “The name is Bill.”

“Jinx,” the thief said. “And this is Ruby.” He gestured to the ground, where the imp was tracing the veins in the marble.

William scratched his head. “You’re not related, are you?”

“No....”

“Ah, good, because there is no resemblance whatsoever.”

Arcturus cleared his throat. “I wonder if you are through with the entertainment...unless you need to tend to your loom.”

“The loom!” William gave a whistle, and there was a scurrying of tiny claws upon the floor. A sausage-shaped rodent smaller than a loaf of bread darted to his feet and looked up at him with beady black eyes. “Might you tend to that?” William asked, gesturing to the ajar door from which he had appeared.

The creature scratched behind its ear with it hind leg and then scurried through the door, which promptly shut behind it.

“What was that?” Jinx asked.

“My cavy,” William said, as though the answer was obvious. He waved his hand and the room brightened, though the fire remained unchanged. “I understand you must all have traveled a fair distance to be my guests.” He plucked a yellow string from his shirt and cast it to the floor, where it inched away like a caterpillar. “I will allow you to freshen up, and then we will dine.”

Arcturus’s stomach growled none-too-discreetly.

William smiled. “I will show you to your rooms.” He headed for another door across the atrium, opened it, and gestured them through. There was a short hall upon the other side. “Choose your chamber,” he said. “You will find my taste in décor impeccable.”

“Or eccentric,” Arcturus mused, poking his head inside the first room. “I expected stairs inside a tower.”

“For a bit of exercise?” William asked. “Of what use are stairs? But if you so desire—”

“No, no,” Arcturus said warily. “Do not misread me.”

“When have you ever known me to do that?” William grinned. “Anyway. Off with you. I will announce dinner shortly.”

“H
ow old is this?” The words slowly poured from the Markanturian’s lips, just as he slowly poured another glass. He had nearly cleared his third heaping plate, but just how many glasses of wine he had consumed, Kariayla lost count.

“Why? Is it to your liking?” William asked.

“It is very good, though not as good as some. But those ‘some’ cannot be bested.”

William smiled. “You are likely biased, but then again, I have never had the pleasure of sampling the wine of your people.”

There was a pause in which Jinx’s open-mouthed chewing could be heard, though the thief scarcely seemed aware of the din. Ruby was no better, grabbing every morsel within reach—which included what was on Jinx’s plate—and shoving them into her mouth.

Arcturus made a face. “My boy, might you make an attempt at some semblance of proper etiquette?”

“Are those on that dish? I ain’t tried the ettikets yet,” Jinx said.

Kariayla withheld a smile. This was hardly a formal meal—at least by comparison to the feasts she had seen in Belorn’s castle—but it was the best meal they had had since they had begun their journey. The food was warm, delicious, and abundant. Jinx and Ruby had been the most eager to indulge. Kariayla was fairly certain Jinx had never been fed this well, and to watch him marvel at the plates and silverware made her appreciate what little she had had at the castle.

Arcturus, by contrast, took every bite with great care and appreciation. She found she grew weary just watching him, though between the Markanturian and the thief, she could not say who had consumed more. For the first time in a long time, everyone seemed comfortable. They had clean clothes and rooms of their own, and now their bellies were full. Though she knew next to nothing about William, she could with confidence tout that he was quite the host.

“You say you are a thief?” William asked, leaning toward Jinx.

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth full. “Mostly ‘cuz I gotta be. But I don’t go stealin’ all the time from everybody. I mean, I’m not like that. I just take what I need when I need it, but it ain’t been a while since I needed nuthin’, ‘cuz Arcturus and Hawkwing’ve been pretty good to me.”

“I’m sure they have,” William said. “I am only curious, but have you ever stolen anything other than what you need?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Something valuable,” William said, gesturing vaguely with his fork, “like a gold watch or a sapphire necklace.”

Jinx shook his head. “Nope. My buddies wouldn’t let me try. There’s a reason they call me Jinx.”

“Perhaps they did not realize your full potential,” William said. “How could they assess your abilities without allowing you to attempt a bigger prize?”

“Do not encourage him,” Arcturus interrupted, though his tone was lazy.

“I really am unlucky,” Jinx admitted.

“Your little friend might disagree,” William said. Ruby, sensing their eyes upon her, stopped eating and shrank back in her modified chair.

Jinx smiled and rubbed her head. “She is my best friend since I hadta leave Scorch behind.”

“Might I ask how you two became acquainted?” William asked.

“How we met?” Jinx smiled at the memory. “I caught her at the market. She was being chased by this big guy with a stick. I kinda stuck out my foot and tripped him. He went flyin’, and Ruby hid in the alley. When I went to get her, she was shakin’ like Old Man Horton after a few drinks.”

William poured another cup for him, then reached under his spoon and produced a cookie for Ruby. “That isn’t the end of the tale, is it?”

Jinx’s smile faded. “Well, no. The big guy got up, and he wasn’t too happy.” His gaze fell to the mark on his hand. “I been in trouble lotsa times, and this time they let me go with a warning. I went to find my friends, and Ruby must’ve followed me. She’s been with me since.” He tried a sip of the drink, and his eyes widened. “This is really good! What is it?”

“A little confection of mine I call ‘hot chocolate,’” William said.

“And what if the rest of us should desire a sample of this ‘hot chocolate’?” Arcturus asked.

“It does not blend well with wine.” The wizard did, however, discreetly slide a cup to Kariayla. “And what of you, young lady? How did you end up in the company of my former pupil?”

She felt her face heat immediately, setting the cup down before she could take a sip. What would she say? That she was a runaway slave who begged Arcturus’s companionship along the road? That he had taken pity on her because she had nowhere else to go?

“Kariayla assisted me in the library of Belorn’s castle,” Arcturus said.

“You are a scholarly sort,” William commended. “We are all a scholarly sort around here.”

Kariayla breathed a sigh and gave the Markanturian an appreciative nod. He winked at her and downed the rest of his glass before asking the wizard, “What, exactly, is
here
?”

“How did I neglect to mention?” William asked, cracking his knuckles. “I started my own school for the magically gifted.”

“You mean to say you left Mystland to create your own secret city and school?” Arcturus asked, incredulous. “A
secret
school, hidden in the mountains.”

“Near the haunted Plains,” Jinx added.

“Before you question my practicality,” William said, “you should know that
I
choose who is invited to attend.”

“I still question your practicality,” Arcturus said. “How do you invite students to attend your secret school? Do you employ an invisible pigeon to carry an invisible invitation written in invisible ink?” He stood to fill his plate a fourth time, but he rose rather unsteadily and had to grip the back of his chair.

“Now you are being facetious,” William said, resting his elbows upon the table. “Hawkwing delivers my invitations, and he guides my students here.”

There was a moment of silence, when all attention turned to the tall man quietly finishing his meal. Kariayla thought she glimpsed the corners of his mouth upturn, but the expression was too fleeting and too subtle to be confirmed.

“Well,” Arcturus said at last, returning with another small mountain of food, “I, for one, sympathize with any who undergo your tutelage.”

William laughed. “Oh no, Arcturus. I do not teach them. I merely select the students and manage the school. And on occasion, I host guests in my humble abode.” His brow suddenly furrowed. “What were you doing in Belorn?”

“Research,” Arcturus said.

“In Belorn.”

“Yes.”

William drummed his fingers on the table, studying the Markanturian.

“Arcturus, ain’t you kinda old to be Bill’s student?” Jinx asked.

“James, do not speak with your mouth full,” Arcturus returned.