“Would you accompany me to Aurea?”
It had been a week since Linnea had asked.
After leaving the burned ruins of Feriel’s and Bandrigan’s estate behind, the companions stopped back in Barsicum where Saara led them to her grandparents’ home. The elderly elven couple weakened when they heard of their daughter’s and son-in-law’s deaths, tears streaming down their faces as they welcomed their granddaughter into their home. Linnea handled the situation with a cool grace, offering pretty, rehearsed words. It was not her first time delivering the news of an agent’s death.
Separating Kaja and Saara proved to be a more difficult task. Saara wanted to come along, insisting that her knowledge of magic tech could be useful. With a few days’ time she could fashion herself a weapon and be ready to leave on an adventure. In the end, she was mollified only when Kaja promised that she would return to see her and Jo agreed that they would reevaluate their decision at this later date. Sakrattars pursed his lips, knowing that there would be no reconsidering.
It was when they left Saara and her grandparents that Linnea had asked her question: “Would you accompany me to Aurea?”
She was going to deliver her full report at the Ordo Draconis headquarters and wanted the party to come along as corroborators. They had no reason to argue: Jo, Kaja, and Sakrattars were already on their way to Aurea when they had gotten sidetracked and Leif and Amale were fully committed to joining them in light of all they had seen.
They spent the week traveling the winding roads south down through the Aurelian peninsula, passing through a number of towns along the way: Orium, Lanium, Pelagium. Linnea rented horses to ease their journey but the animals were spooked by Jo’s presence.
“What do natiuhans ride, since horses are too small?” Leif had asked casually as they waited for the stablehand to bring their mounts around.
“We have no need.” Jo flashed a loaded smile. Leif quirked an eyebrow as he waited for an explanation that never came. Sakrattars sighed and shook his head.
With Jo trailing behind on foot, while also nursing the injuries she sustained in the Fallen’s attack, the trip took longer than Linnea had hoped. It was mid-morning on the eighth day when they finally reached the outskirts of the city.
Originally a fortress during the Age of Blades, Aurea was built on an island just offshore, connected to the Aurelian mainland by a singular, wide causeway made of stones. As the city swelled in size, it outgrew its island and people started building on the peninsula proper. This area was mostly inhabited by farmers and fishermen, guardsmen who monitored traffic in and out, and merchants waiting for clearance to cross the bridge.
As they rode through the streets, Leif shielded his eyes from the sun. “Alright, who here has been to Aurea?” he asked with a grin. Jo shrugged. Kaja shook her head.
“I have, but usually by ship,” Sakrattars replied. Arvisian Bay was just a pleasant day trip across the calm waters of the gulf, the passage protected from rough ocean waves on three sides: the Aurelian peninsula in the west, Taracosia in the east, and the island of Arvis in the southeast. Conversely, the journey by land would take almost three weeks by horseback or wagon and was subject to bandit attacks and rough terrain.
The looming spires of the guard towers drew ever closer. Seagulls cried overhead, swooping down through the crowds to scatter flocks of pigeons and steal the scraps accumulated in the gutters of the cobblestone road.
“There’s a smell.” Kaja wrinkled her nose. “Like rotting fish.”
“We’re getting close to the ocean,” Sakrattars said. “It’s probably the fishing boats down at the docks.”
Kaja’s eyes lit up. “The ocean?” She brought her horse to a sudden stop in the middle of the road and leapt down from its back.
“Kaja?” Jo cried. “Where are you going?” But Kaja dashed away without explanation, leaving the companions to deal with fiery glares and angry shouting. Chaos erupted in Kaja’s wake as she disturbed the flow of traffic. People carrying large jugs of wine and baskets of lentils snorted in derision as she pushed past them and two wagons nearly swerved into each other as the horses reared and nickered away from her.
The crowds thinned when Kaja left the main thoroughfare. She rushed down the alley and burst out from between the two buildings. The sunny sky opened up above and the vast ocean spread below, an endless expanse of deep, sparkling blue stretching to the horizon and beyond. The sight reminded her of the ancient blue ice that her people shaped into their homes. She climbed atop the guard wall to get a better look.
Gentle waves lapped at the dock below, rocking rows upon rows of small, wooden fishing boats decorated in colorful flags. She watched people as they repaired fishing nets, or dredged up traps and emptied giant marine snails into baskets. Birds flocked nearby, waiting for an opportunity to steal part of the catch. She didn’t know how much time she spent drinking in all the sights and sounds and smells before her companions caught up to her.
“Don’t run off like that,” Jo scolded. “We’re in the city now so you need to behave yourself.”
“Sorry,” Kaja murmured.
Leif laughed, attempting to lighten the mood. “Would you look at that?” he exclaimed.
Aurea, the golden capital of the Empire, stood high across the waters, its white stone buildings radiating the sun’s light. So fully did the city cover the island that the land was no longer visible, creating an illusion that Aurea itself was floating, rising out of the sea like a great leviathan. The sheer size of the city defied the eye’s attempt at perspective, making it seem much closer than it actually was. Splashes of color popped everywhere one looked: the red and orange clay roof tiles, the blue Imperial banners bearing the Gold Dragon insignia, clothes dyed in fanciful yellows, pinks, and greens hanging over balconies to dry. The bridge they were about to cross was wide enough for ten horse-carts to travel abreast, with dozens of arches linked together to reach across the sea. Clusters of black mussels and brown algae clung to the white stone just above the lapping water, the current flowing languidly among the pillars as the tide came in.
Orderly lines of traffic filled the bridge’s lanes: wagons, carriages, pull carts, those on horseback and those on foot, all traveling to and from Aurea’s city center. The people were just as diverse as their modes of transport. A group of natiuhans towered over the rest, laughing at some private joke; kobolds shuffled alongside humans and elves, squinting their sensitive eyes in the bright midday light, their scales reflecting a rainbow of colors. The companions even spotted a few pairs of little mouse ears poking up from behind the guard wall, the ratfolk being too diminutive for any other part of them to be seen.
“Let’s go,” Linnea said. She had dropped off the horses, the party having agreed to go the rest of the way on foot. Linnea promised that it wasn’t too far once they crossed the bridge.
At the checkpoint, Linnea showed the guardsman her identification and he waved her and the rest of the companions on through, funneling them into the river of people making the crossing. Kaja’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. She had never seen so many people in one place in her entire life. She was constantly bumping into someone, bowing in silent apology the way she had seen Sakrattars do. And the noise! Waves crashing, people shouting, babies crying, wheels rolling. It was as wondrous as it was overwhelming. She looked to her companions for their reactions but, to her disappointment, she seemed like the only one who was impressed. Jo, Sakrattars, Leif and Linnea were all focused on their objective and, though Amale’s ears were flattened back, he was otherwise just as cool as the rest.
Kaja’s awe only compounded when they set foot in Aurea proper. The city was built like a maze with tall, multi-story buildings enclosing narrow streets that wound around the island like a spider’s web. Concentric rings of fortified walls broke up the various neighborhoods, with the oldest around the bridge crossing where the original boundaries of the fortress once lay. Within the center of Aurea was the heart of the Empire itself, containing the senate, the palatial estate of the Emperor, various minor bureaucratic buildings, and of course the famed Academia Arcana.
When Linnea said she would be putting the companions up in a safe house, Sakrattars imagined that the Ordo Draconis would place them somewhere around the center. But Linnea was leading them down a road that hugged the edge of the island rather than one that would lead further into the city.
In what Sakrattars had noticed was a pattern with her, Linnea didn’t offer any explanation until they reached their destination. She stopped them outside of a small, unassuming convent in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. The doors were carved with a prayer to the mother goddess Aia, beseeching her to bless the injured who passed through them.
“We have a cleric on call here,” Linnea said. “This area is carefully monitored by the Ordo. You will be safe.”
“We’re staying in the convent?” Sakrattars asked.
“No, of course not. There’s an apartment building behind it.”
As Linnea led them down the corridor, they passed rooms full of ailing people. It was hardly quieter inside than out—the halls echoed with a woman’s anguished wail followed by a baby’s droning cry. Patients, loved ones, and caretakers hurried past the companions with barely a glance. Linnea ushered them into an empty room.
“Christina will attend to your injuries and show you to the safe house,” Linnea explained. “The meeting won't be for another few days. I'll come calling for you then.”
Without waiting for goodbyes, Linnea left the companions alone and slightly befuddled. However, it wasn’t long before another woman joined them. She was human, robed in the habit of the Daughters of Aia, with smooth, olive skin and warm, brown eyes. Curly, dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, too voluminous to be kept at bay by the hood of her robes. Sakrattars could feel the tips of his ears warming and hoped that Christina's beauty didn't make his cheeks flush as well.
After exchanging short greetings, Christina got to work. “May I touch you?” she asked, crossing the room to Jo.
Jo nodded and Christina lightly brushed the tips of her fingers along her ribs. Although it had been over a week since the Fallen raked her with his daggers, the wound had refused to close and still dripped with fresh blood. Christina knelt, inspecting the cut on Jo’s calf. Jo stiffened and looked away, her whole face turning redder by the moment.
“Please, sit,” Christina urged, gesturing to the floor. Jo obeyed, her heart speeding up when she realized that she was now eye to eye with Christina. “Relax,” she said gently. Jo didn’t understand how she was supposed to relax when someone so lovely was so near.
Christina, for her part, didn’t seem to notice all the attention she was drawing. “I’ve been seeing more wounds like this one,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
Jo swallowed. She looked to the others for help but no one offered anything, not even Sakrattars, who normally jumped at the opportunity to show off his knowledge.
“I’m sorry, that was foolish of me,” Christina amended in the silence. “You do not have to say.” She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and mumbled a prayer to Aia, and the constant pain Jo had been dealing with dissipated, smoothed away by the cooling hand of the divine. “You will feel a bit tired,” Christina said as she walked over to Amale next. “You will need to rest for the remainder of the day, after the doctor sees you.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes, I can clear the spiritual affliction but we are still left with an ordinary wound,” she said as she looked over Amale’s forearm. She chanted the same prayer for him, the power of Aia flowing through her hands and transferring into Amale’s body.
“Do you think maybe you could check me out as well?” Leif said as Christina was preparing to fetch the doctor.
“Where are you injured?”
Leif smiled sheepishly, his face glowing pink under his blond beard. “Well, you see, I pinched my hand in a saddle buckle and it hurt quite a lot . . .”
*
*
“That Christina was something else, wasn’t she?” Leif sighed, lovestruck bliss in his voice.
The companions were settled into their apartment, an unexpectedly spacious suite of three rooms and a common area with a kitchen. Amale was already asleep in one of the rooms.
“She certainly wasn’t joking when she said that we’d feel tired afterwards,” Jo quipped with a yawn. “And would you look at that? Linnea even arranged for a mattress my size.”
“I suppose that leaves you and me, fancy elf,” Leif said. “What do you say we pick up some food?”
“I was actually going to go to the Academia Arcana,” Sakrattars replied absently. “Start on my research into the zmaj. Like I said I would,” he emphasized, staring straight at Jo.
“What, are you looking for thanks?”
“Some appreciation, yes.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Oh, thank you, for keeping your end of the deal,” she said with mock gratitude. “It’s the least you can do in exchange for all the times I’ve saved your ass.”
Sakrattars snorted, indignant. “I helped with the Fallen!”
“But it was me and Kaja who dealt the final blows.”
“Fine,” Sakrattars snapped back. “I’m going and maybe, just maybe, I won’t come back.”
“Yeah right,” Jo said dismissively. She bedded down, grateful to be sleeping someplace soft and not the floor of some Imperial-made inn.
Sakrattars grabbed his things and left the apartment without another word. He had only taken a few steps when he heard the door open and close again behind him. He expected it to be Leif, complaining about boredom and looking for someone to keep him company, but was surprised when it turned out to be Kaja.
“Can I come?” she asked quietly.
“You—you want to come with me?”
Kaja nodded.
“I was joking about not coming back, you know that, right?” he said. She didn’t reply, just stared. “I don’t think it’s going to be fun for you,” he added.
“I can help.”
Sakrattars considered this. There could be merit in taking the zmaj along on a search for zmaj-related information. “All right, let’s go,” he acquiesced.
Kaja’s face beamed, her pupils narrowing into slits the way they always seemed to when she was excited about something. Sakrattars didn’t understand what she was so happy about.
“But we need to get back before nightfall,” he said. “If Jo wakes up and you’re gone, it’s going to be my hide.”
*
*
As the cart pulled onto the Academia Arcana’s campus, both Sakrattars and Kaja were awestruck by the sight. The buildings were tall, made of white and gray stone splashed with colorful murals and peppered with stained glass windows. A web of gravel paths weaving through neatly manicured gardens connected the buildings in an intricate lattice. Some of the paths were even covered by a dome of frosted glass, shielding their occupants from the elements. Rain was not a common occurrence in Aurea, and snow was unheard of, but even still students and teachers would not need to fear getting their precious magical components, scrolls, and books wet as they traveled between buildings.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
By the time Sakrattars paid the driver, Kaja was scurrying up the stairs to the library. He sighed happily, keeping one eye on Kaja while he gazed up at the stone columns bearing banners from all over Calthia. The giant lanterns framing the entrance acted as a beacon, an homage to the lantern that Thosis, the god of knowledge and magic, was said to carry.
Sakrattars had dreamed of coming here one day, of studying in the famous halls where so many great scholars once mingled.
He never imagined it would be under these circumstances.
He watched students strolling through the courtyard, talking with their peers, while others were sitting on the steps, holding a meat bun or fried fish in one hand and a book in the other. This could have been his life, but would it have really felt like his?
“Kaja, wait for me!” he called out.
He took a deep breath and started up the stairs.
*
*
“State your name and school.”
Sakrattars shifted his weight nervously. “Sakrattars Mistwood. I come from the University in Barsicum.”
“School?” the librarian repeated, a hint of irritation coloring her otherwise monotone voice.
“Divination.”
At this, she glanced up, her steely gray eyes peering at him from behind a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. “And why are you here?”
“Marcos Bellfire sent me,” Sakrattars said, feeling an unexpected pang in his chest at his old teacher's name. “I am to copy a scroll and deliver it back to him.”
“And the girl?”
“She’s my . . . apprentice.”
“They're giving apprentices to novice wizards in Barsicum now?”
“Why—why do you think I'm a novice?” If Sakrattars wasn’t so anxious, he’d be insulted.
The librarian didn’t reply, just cast Sakrattars a deliberate look that was somehow more cutting than any words she could have said. Then she turned her attention to filling out her log book. Despite the flimsy lies, Sakrattars was beginning to think he had pulled it off. As long as that was the end of the questions and there weren’t any more problems . . .
Dread sank to the pit of Sakrattars’ stomach when, despite his clear instructions, Kaja had taken to poking at a rare, magical artifact. His eyes darted desperately between her and the librarian, willing for either Kaja to stop or the librarian to allow them entry before something untoward happened.
Then the inevitable struck.
The artifact whirred to life, and Kaja jumped with a squeak and a flurry of snowflakes. When the mist cleared, the object was encased in ice, tendrils of frost running down the pedestal. The librarian’s eyebrows shot up.
“She's precocious, isn't she?” Sakrattars forced an amiable laugh, grabbing Kaja by the arm and pulling her close. He gave her a squeeze that said 'cut it out' and she straightened up, offering a shy, apologetic smile.
The librarian studied their faces a moment longer, her piercing gaze lingering on Sakrattars, who was wearing his most friendly grin, before she pursed her lips and waved them in.
As Sakrattars pushed open the intricately-carved door, he glared at Kaja. “Don’t touch anything this time. I mean it. It’s a miracle she let us in.” Kaja sighed, her shoulders drooping. She gave a tense nod and followed him in.
Once they were inside the atrium, Sakrattars’ irritation evaporated. He had heard stories about the grand library of the Academia Arcana, the finest collection of books and magical artifacts outside of Thasrah's Grand Madrassa of Thosis in the far western kingdom of Akalia, but the stories didn’t do it justice. He stared up in barely concealed wonder at the white balconies of the upper floors, the gold leaf accents glittering in the sunbeams streaming through the skylights. Living plants filled the space, from dwarfed trees lovingly pruned into decorative shapes to the fragrant boxes of thyme and rosemary that instantly reminded Sakrattars of the taste of home. Behind glass cases, ancient flowers cultivated thousands of years ago were bound with time-stasis spells—perfect for all eternity. Less potent versions of these spells had been cast on an ornamental cherry bonsai tree, its blossoms falling in slow motion, so the beautiful sight would last for years.
Kaja was drawn to a fountain ringed with yellow marigolds. The spire in the middle was carved with various animal motifs: a lion, a bear, a warg. And at the very top, water shooting forth from its open maw, was a golden dragon. Her eyes widened. The dragon on the Empire’s sigil was heavily stylized but the one on the fountain was made with attention to detail. Every scale, every fin, every tooth looked real. The eye, inlaid with rubies, made Kaja feel as if she were being watched.
“Where do we go?” she asked Sakrattars, turning away from the fountain and scanning the rows upon rows of bookshelves. Suddenly their task seemed much more daunting.
“We’ll need to find the right section first,” Sakrattars said, spying a terminal. There was a notice posted above it in at least two dozen languages starting with Elvish and Imperial Common all the way through languages spoken in faraway kingdoms such as Volgarian, Thasran, and High Araviri. It said: NO SPELL CASTING ON LIBRARY GROUNDS ON PENALTY OF EXPULSION. Sakrattars swallowed, remembering Kaja’s little trick out in the lobby. He hoped there wouldn’t be any other such incidents. Another student was using the terminal so Sakrattars ushered Kaja over to wait.
When it was their turn, Sakrattars gasped at the technology that lay before him. The terminal consisted of a painted glass panel with five crystals embedded in the front and a long, brass object suspended in a field of magic behind. Although he had heard of these terminals and knew how they operated in theory, Sakrattars had never used one before. The University in Barsicum still had a team of librarians who would manually search paper records to find reference material. This was cutting edge. Only the most advanced magic tech would do for one of the finest institutions on the continent.
Sakrattars had hoped there would be instructions or at least some indication on how to use it but there was no such luck. He looked back at Kaja’s innocently eager face. She bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to do something. Someone else had already lined up behind them too. Sakrattars felt his nerves fraying.
“Here, take Bartholomew and stand over there,” Sakrattars said, shoving the toad into Kaja’s arms.
“Why?”
“I need to think and I can’t think with you staring at me like that.”
“Oh.”
With Kaja otherwise occupied, Sakrattars turned his attention back to the terminal. He frowned and reached for the brass object.
“New here?”
The voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. The young man behind him in line gave a friendly wave.
“We're from Barsicum,” Sakrattars said, pausing to catch his breath.
“Ah,” the man nodded in understanding, “do you want me to help you?”
“If you could just show me once, I ought to pick it up.”
The man smiled, a crooked, playful gesture. “Confident, are you? Well don't touch the memory dial, first of all. May I?” He offered his hand. Bewildered, Sakrattars gave him his. The man gently pressed Sakrattars’ fingertips into the five crystals. “That's to activate the conduit,” he explained. Sakrattars felt the man was standing entirely too close for what the demonstration required. A blush crept up his ears. He was relieved when the man released him.
The crystals glowed, a stream of magic flowing into the channels under the glass and illuminating a complex pattern feeding the aura around the brass memory dial. “Now tell it what you’re searching for,” the man said.
Sakrattars hesitated. He couldn't possibly say “zmaj”, not with this man standing right next to him. “People of Calthia,” he stated. The dial activated, its disks rotating backwards and forwards, clicking into place one by one. When the final disk stopped, a backflow of magic surged into Sakrattars and he saw a brief vision of a row of bookcases. A sign on the wall said IIB. When the vision faded, Sakrattars was left staring dumbstruck at the terminal. The dial was made with a memory crystal! Was there no limit for the Academia Arcana?
“Did you see it?” the man asked.
“Yes, thank you for your help,” Sakrattars said, giving him a polite nod goodbye. He beckoned Kaja to follow.
After ascending to the second floor, Sakrattars quickly picked out section B and set to work skimming the titles for books that could be useful. Whenever he spotted one, he took it from the shelf and handed it to Kaja. When Kaja's balance started to waver, Sakrattars relieved her of half the load and found a desk by the balcony.
“You go through that pile, alright?” Sakrattars said. “I'll go through these.”
Kaja nodded dutifully and sat down with her assigned books. But several minutes in, Sakrattars noticed that Kaja was still on the same page.
“What's wrong?”
“There are no pictures.”
“No, but you can read them, right?” It was only after Kaja’s cheeks flushed a bright rose did Sakrattars realize. Kaja’s native tongue, Draconic, had no written form and, although she was becoming more fluent by the day, she still struggled with speaking Imperial Common. It was foolish of him to assume she’d have the reading proficiency needed to help.
Kaja paused, her brow furrowing in frustration and embarrassment. “I can read. Some. The books are hard.”
Sakrattars sighed. If Kaja knew she couldn't read well enough, then why did she even ask to come along? It didn’t make any sense. “Don't worry about it then. I’ll do all of the reading.” Sakrattars glanced around. Was there a children's section? Not likely. “You can do whatever you want while I do. Just don’t go too far. I’m going to stay right here.”
Kaja’s gaze hit the floor. “Okay,” she murmured.
“And Kaja? Remember—”
“—don't touch anything,” they finished in unison.
As Kaja wandered off, Sakrattars turned his attention back to the book at hand. It was a dull tome, penned in old Imperial Common and creatively titled The Complete Index of the Peoples of Calthia Both Living and Dead. Sakrattars had already tried the glossary and saw no entry for zmaj. That would have been too easy, he supposed. Although nearly one thousand years old, the book was still well known in academic circles so if zmaj were cataloged in it, Sakrattars likely would have heard about it. But perhaps the word “zmaj” was just what zmaj called themselves and they were known by a different name elsewhere.
Sakrattars carefully turned the pages, searching for anything that might hint at their existence. He passed by the usual entries: humans, elves, natiuhans (he noted with some amusement that the author apparently didn't know about their shapeshifting abilities), kobolds, ratfolk. Some entries gave him pause, however, such as the one on a people called the sylvan, who were supposedly more plant than person, with bark for skin and leaves for hair, and sprouted flowers from their back and shoulders. According to the author, they lived deep in the forests of Balthissica and had not been seen for hundreds of years at the time of writing.
He continued on like that until the light turned an amber hue, casting long shadows through the library. An apprentice librarian began their rounds illuminating the crystal sconces and hanging lamps. At night, the library took on a completely different personality than during the day. It was dark and contemplative, the crystals glowing in ethereal blues and pinks and purples, providing just enough light for the less-sighted, such as humans, to be able to read. The shadows of the slumbering plants and the quiet trickle of the fountains relaxed Sakrattars so much that he caught himself closing his eyes before long. The length of the day caught up to him—that morning he had woken up at an inn a couple hour’s ride outside of Aurea and now his body was reminding him of it.
He opened his eyes, his blank stare lingering on the pile of books he had yet to search. There was nothing he wanted to do less at the moment than keep going through them. They probably didn’t even contain what he was looking for—it was abundantly clear that the zmaj didn’t exist as far as anyone in the Aurean Empire, past or present, knew. He groaned and knocked his forehead against the table top in exasperation. This whole thing was just a fool’s errand.
Then one last idea came to him as he was reclining back in his chair. There was a minor detail that had been nagging him since they had left Bandrigan’s and Feriel's estate, something that he hoped would give him a fresh lead.
Lucretia had mentioned the name “Norsivex”.
Sakrattars knew of only one Norsivex, a warlord from Arvis who had enjoyed a brief rule over much of central Calthia before he was defeated during the Siege of Aurea, but he couldn't say what the connection to the Irkallu was, if any. Lucretia may have been talking about a different Norsivex. After all, the warlord Norsivex had been dead for over two thousand years. But if Sakrattars could figure out who Lucretia’s Norsivex was, he might be able to backtrack towards information on Fallen and then onto zmaj.
Sakrattars revisited the terminal, asking it to search for “Norsivex”. As he expected, the terminal directed him to books on ancient history or military strategy. Sakrattars plucked one from the shelf, an End to the Age of Blades: Norsivex’s Conquest and Murder, and returned to his desk. The book was dense and comprehensive but it was written in Old Elvish, a language more related to the lingua arcana than to the Imperial Elvish that Sakrattars grew up speaking. Sakrattars could read it but it would take some time. He muttered a few curses to pretentious elven scholars as he flipped through the pages.
He was deep in thought, attempting to parse out whether a certain phrase meant someone was feeling warm or literally burst into flames, when his ears perked to the sound of footsteps.
*
*
Kaja stared upside down at the dragon statue spewing water, kicking her feet idly over the edge of the fountain. Several people gave her odd looks as they passed by but no one bothered her. Kaja had been all over the main library, exploring up and down the rows of bookshelves, counting how many of each type of plant she could find, and slowly pacing back and forth beneath the arched trees. After she ran out of ideas, she laid down on the fountain and looked up through the skylights, the glow of the colorful crystals framing her view of the stars. Maybe she should have stayed at the safe house after all. She wondered when Sakrattars would want to leave. He did say he wanted to be back before nightfall and nightfall had happened what felt like ages ago.
She pulled herself up. Sakrattars was still at the balcony-side desk on the floor above but there was someone else talking to him now. Kaja squinted. It was the man from the terminal earlier! Maybe Sakrattars asked him for help since she couldn’t read the books . . .
She sighed, made up her mind, and hurried up the stairs.
“—we could stop by the forum on the way, pick up some grilled skewers and a jug of wine,” the man was saying as Kaja approached. “Ah, your little apprentice. That’s perfect. She can finish up your research for you.”
“Sorry, I’m really not interested,” Sakrattars replied.
The man paused and the three stood in awkward silence. “Alright,” he said, “fair enough. But if you change your mind before you go back to Barsicum, you know where to find me.” He winked at Sakrattars, flashed Kaja a warm smile, and headed to the staircase.
“What did he want?” Kaja asked.
Sakrattars blushed to the tips of his ears. “Who? That guy?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, nothing you need to concern yourself with. So what have you been doing?”
“Sitting.”
“Oh,” Sakrattars said, “that’s . . . nice.”
Kaja shifted her weight, tugging on her dress. “Can I leave?”
“And go where?”
“Back.”
Sakrattars nearly choked. “By yourself? No way, Jo would murder me.”
“But I don't want to be here anymore.”
“I'm sorry, Kaja, but this is for your own good, you know. And I told you this wasn't going to be fun.”
“You said we’d be done by nightfall. Jo will be angry.”
“The sun just barely set and I only have a few more books to look at. We’ll be back before the oil lamps darken.”
Kaja groaned and draped herself over the balcony railing. She spotted the man Sakrattars had been speaking to heading to the main entrance. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned back and looked up directly at her. She started, her heart pounding, but he just gave a friendly wave and left.
Kaja slumped back with a sigh. She wished she could leave too.
*
*
“Ahem.”
Sakrattars opened his eyes to a librarian standing over him, hands on his hips, the soft light of dawn illuminating the deep creases of his frown. Feeling his heart shoot into his throat, Sakrattars immediately sat up in the chair and both Bartholomew and Kaja, who had been leaning up against him fast asleep, crashed to the floor.
“This isn’t a dormitory, you know,” the librarian growled in a deep baritone.
“I’m sorry,” Sakrattars stood up and bowed. He forced Kaja’s head down into a bow too after she got back up on groggy legs. The librarian sniffed.
“Finish up here and leave.”
“Of course.”
Sakrattars looked at the scattered mess of books on the desk in defeat. He had found no mention of the zmaj in any of them nor had he seen reference to anything resembling the Fallen. Norsivex was just a man. A successful conqueror and a failed ruler, yes, but there was nothing to suggest that he was anything more. Lucretia must have been referring to a different Norsivex, one not in any book.
“I’m hungry,” Kaja said, handing Bartholomew back.
“Me too,” Sakrattars replied. Then a terrifying thought sliced through what remained of his exhaustion: they were gone all night. More specifically, he had kept Kaja out all night. Jo was going to be livid.
*
*
The man from the library walked through the broken streets of Undertown, a magical light guiding his way through the dark, dank ruins that lay beneath Aurea. He whistled a cheerful tune as he went, catching the eye of curious ratfolk and wary kobolds. Turning casually into an alley, he rapped on a door three times.
“We don’t want any,” a voice hissed from the other side.
“I’m certain that you do,” he said. “My wares come all the way from Amun.”
There was a brief rustling of chains and the door creaked open.
“Joris,” said a ratfolk, gesturing to her two guards to stand by the door. She circled around him, her tail whipping through the air.
“Shorga.”
“You better have a good reason for being here. Madame Jezzail is very busy preparing for the operation.” Shorga was half Joris’s height but he didn’t dare look down on her as she spoke. He knew how the game was played.
“I found the girl. The one with white hair.”
Shorga’s mouth dropped open, her whiskers twitched. “Are you absolutely certain?”
“Fairly certain, yes. She was in the library at the Academia Arcana with an elf.”
“And the natiuhan?”
“Nowhere to be seen. But you don’t expect a brute like that to go to a place like the library.”
“Then why didn’t you seize her?”
“In the middle of the library?” Joris scoffed. “Don’t tell me that you’re that stupid. I tried to lure the elf away but he wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t anything I could do. But she’s here in Aurea. I thought your master would like to know.”
Shorga mulled over this information. Though she didn’t know or care about the Irkallu’s intentions, she did know how much Lord Alistair wished to find this girl. If she played her cards right, she could use this as an opportunity to curry Madame Jezzail’s favor. She waved a paw and her guards grabbed Joris’ arms. He struggled against them but they held him tight.
“What are you doing?” Joris cried.
“Cleaning up,” said Shorga, her words punctuated with sadistic glee.
She drew her knife.