After the story was told, Uncle Kelvan gave Gideon a satisfied look. “This Mortimer Rook fellow, he’s what? Level thirty?”
Gideon raised his eyebrows. Had he described him so menacingly? “Uh, no, Uncle Kelvan, he’s level twelve.”
There was a moment of silence in the lab before Kelvan began to cackle, his red eyes flashing with amusement. Kelvan’s mirror had been floating around the room while listening to Gideon tell his story—the equivalent of pacing, Gideon supposed, but now Kelvan had turned to face him.
Gideon didn’t meet his gaze. He looked around the lab, at the shelves full of trinkets and materials, at the unused workbenches covered in thin layers of dust. He gazed upon the giant vault door, now closed, surrounded by glowing runes. Gideon was eager to train again against his mirror image. It had been too long.
“How quaint,” Kelvan said after collecting himself. “For a moment, I thought this might be an entertaining challenge. A level twelve? If he shows his face here, Clonk will throw him down the mountain.” Kelvan paused, then shook his head. “How intriguing that he has your blood, though. This necromancer Rook has on retainer, the one he used to find you, is probably a higher level than he is if they can perform that spell. Unless they’re using an artifact.”
“Oh, lovely,” Gideon said, groaning and putting his head in his hands.
“This is a good thing, Gideon. Are you truly alive if you haven't made a few enemies? You made your choice the moment you decided you were tired of paying your hard-earned coin to that leech. Don't regret it now.”
Strangely, Gideon felt inspired. His Uncle was right, of course. There was no point in looking back. “Thanks, Uncle.”
“You need to know they can do more than track you with your blood, however. There are certain curses or hexes they could cast on you from afar if they’re strong enough and can get close to you. Scrying can work from farther away than offensive magic, but the range isn’t unlimited. That’s why they didn’t find you until you returned to the city. But if they’re determined, they’ll track you down eventually. Thankfully, I know countermeasures for blood-based magic.”
“That’s fantastic,” Gideon said, perking up and leaning forward in his chair. “I was hoping you might.”
“Sadly, I can’t cast them in my present state. But you could. Easier to cast on your own blood, anyway.”
Gideon sighed. “You know I don’t know necromancy, Lord Kelvan.”
“Not necromancy.” Kelvan waved his hand. “Not yet. With necromancy, you could find your blood sample and boil it from afar, or transform it into a little blood spirit that screams in Mortimer Rook’s ear.”
“There’s a spell for that?”
“There’s a spell for everything, Gideon,” Kelvan said, and then his eyes darkened as he scowled. “Well, almost everything, as I have unfortunately learned. But forget necromancy, for now. If you wish to protect yourself rather than strike back, you must learn vitamancy.”
Gideon stood up from his chair. “Oh, that’s great. I found a book on it in the library.”
Uncle Kelvan shook his head. “No, that book is intended to train you as a healer. It barely mentions fortifying yourself. Here…” The mirror floated to the corner of the room towards a small bookshelf filled with tomes.
A thin book covered in green fabric flew off the shelf into Gideon’s outstretched hands. His brain froze as he looked at it. He read the cover twice to confirm his eyes had not deceived him. The book was entitled The Vital Art by Harmony Kastorus. When Gideon looked inside, he saw the text was handwritten. The words were neat and tightly spaced.
“Is this by the Harmony?” Gideon asked. “Lady Harmony?”
“There was only one,” Kelvan said. “Though you have a different problem than she did, she also used vitamancy primarily on herself. So perhaps you will find her work useful.”
Gideon remembered what Kelvan had said when they’d discussed how to allocate Gideon’s attributes. His Uncle had mentioned that Harmony placed all her points in Fortitude, which would have been a strange thing to do.
Unless she’d had a chronic illness, in which case, it made perfect sense. Had she studied vitamancy for her health, too?
“Thank you,” Gideon said, unsure what else to say. “I’ll study carefully.”
“Good,” Kelvan said. “There was only one other copy, which Harmony donated to the Ebonreach Institute’s library. I don’t know what happened to it. You might be holding the last one in existence, so take good care of it. There are two spells in particular, Living Veil and Fortify Blood, which will allow you to resist Rook’s spells to locate or harm you. They will take you some time to learn. You must first master the fundamentals and gain at least one skill rank in vitamancy. And the book is only half your assignment.”
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“Half?” Gideon asked, his eyes widening. “What else is there?”
“I wish Sir Clonk hadn’t left,” Kelvan said with a sigh. “It’s time for your physical training regimen to begin. We delayed it due to your trip, but now it’s even more important. It will also be invaluable for dealing with the spider broodmother.”
“Uh, physical training?” Gideon asked.
“Of course,” Kelvan said and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think you were just going to sit around all day and read books and run the inn, did you?”
That is exactly what Gideon had hoped, but he could hardly say so now. His mind raced as he struggled to form an acceptable reply.
Kelvan chuckled. “Vitamancy is about manipulating the mana within your body. Within your blood. That task is much easier in a healthy body than a frail one.”
“I’ll let Clonk know,” Gideon said. “Is he a good trainer?”
“He has zero concept of human limits or physical exhaustion,” Kelvan said, “and he’s also notoriously lazy. But he’s the only option. We can hardly ask Grimsby.”
“Got it. So, about the guests upstairs—”
Lord Kelvan waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I’ll leave that for you to handle, Nephew. Now that I’ve received their money, I no longer care one iota. I am perfectly content for you to run The Last Rest at Castle Kastorus, as long as you don’t let it interfere with your studies. You have far more important things to do than worry about someone who’s upset we didn’t tuck them into bed last night. You must prepare yourself to deal with this pyromancer and necromancer, pitifully leveled though they may be. Few things are as motivating as knowing your enemies are coming to get you.”
Gideon nodded. “I’ll take care of it, then. Do you know where Ondine might be? I could use her help.”
Kelvan’s eyes rolled back into his head momentarily, and he made a humming noise. “Conservatory,” he said as his eyes snapped back into position. “She’s hardly left it for the past couple of days.”
“Great,” Gideon said. “Thank you, Uncle. I’d better get back to work.” He held the book close to his chest as he walked towards the door. He couldn’t believe his great aunt had written it herself. Though they’d lived centuries apart, he now had the opportunity to learn from her, too.
“Take care,” Kelvan said, giving a crooked smile through his beard. “And welcome back.”
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Gideon put his things up in his room, then headed to the conservatory to find Ondine. On the way there, he walked past the block of rooms on the second floor where the guests were staying. Though most of them were outside, Gideon saw one closed room that contained the window where he’d sensed someone watching the courtyard. But before he knocked on the door and talked to the mystery guest, he needed guidance from a ghost.
When Gideon arrived under the glass dome of the conservatory, he was amazed at how quickly its appearance had improved. Many of the plants were already looking greener and healthier. The conservatory felt full of life in a way he’d never before seen it.
Ondine sat on the bench at the center of the room, singing a soft ballad in a minor key to a plant whose pot had been dragged in front of her. Gideon had never heard the song—from the bit of lyrics he could make out, it was about the death of the dragons.
Melissa Mossbrook, shifted into bear form, was sniffing one of the flower bushes while Grimsby stood near the door with his arms crossed, tapping his foot to the rhythm.
Ondine stopped singing and turned towards Gideon. “Ah, welcome home,” she said serenely.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t.” Ondine patted the bench next to her.
“You did,” Grimsby said, his jaw clicking. “I was enjoying that.”
Gideon didn’t know if a ghost could blush, but he thought her cheeks changed color, their translucent white-blue taking on the slightest tinge of red. “I’ll sing it later,” Ondine said, and looked at Grimsby. “Besides, it wasn’t for you. It was for Veridora. Sorry, Veridora.”
“Who’s Veridora?” Gideon asked, looking around the room to see who he’d missed. But there was no one else there. Confused, he sat down on the bench where Ondine had indicated.
“Veridora is right here,” Melissa said, pointing to the plant. Gideon blinked his eyes, utterly baffled. “They liked the song, Ondy, but they wanted it faster.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ondine said. “Anyway, Gideon—I can see in your eyes you came here for a purpose. Not that I don’t enjoy the company.”
Gideon smiled at her, then nodded. “Well, yes. I was hoping I could get your help with something. These new guests are strange, aren’t they?”
“Strange?” Grimsby said. “They’re a bunch of ungrateful cretins.”
Gideon looked between Ondine and Grimsby. “I mean, why did they come here? Why not take the much safer route around the mountains?”
“They must have known they’d be rescued,” Grimsby said. “Now that we’ve started saving people.”
“Maybe,” Gideon mused. “The villagers in Emberly have seen us coming and going, and word might have spread of two elves who successfully made the crossing. But have the rumors spread so quickly? Even if they did, that’s quite the gamble, isn’t it?”
“You think they took this route out of desperation rather than confidence,” Ondine mused.
Gideon nodded. “Exactly. But why? And why hire only two guards for four wagons?”
“Because they’re fools,” Grimsby said. “Idiots.”
“Dumbies,” Melissa added, nodding along.
“Or they’re almost bankrupt,” Ondine said. “Or smuggling contraband.”
“Maybe,” Gideon said, then shrugged. “It’s hard to say. That’s why I need your help, Ondine. Have you seen anything? Do you know what cargo they’re transporting? And who’s the guest holed up in their room while the others are in the courtyard? If we could find out what they’re up to, and if I could negotiate with whoever’s actually in charge, maybe we can turn this around.”
“Now, Gideon,” Ondine said, placing her hand where her heart would have been if she’d been alive. “Are you suggesting that I take advantage of my incorporeal nature to violate the privacy of our dear guests?”
“Uh…”
“Because I’d love to,” Ondine said. “I was hoping someone would ask.” She smirked. “But if I’m going to spy on them, I’ll need a distraction.”
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