The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (7 page)

Brock was dumbstruck. Being so focused on getting the gold needed to change his life, he hadn
’
t considered what might be involved. After being denied a rune in his Choosing ceremony as an infant, he never considered another route to acquiring a rune.

He noticed Bennett preparing ink and a set of needles.

“
Body art? But
…
but that
’
s forbidden,
”
Brock said.
“
The Ministry says it
’
s profane, a crime punishable by death.
”

Now it was Bennett
’
s turn to laugh.
“
It
’
s funny how I can make so much more gold doing what
’
s
forbidden
than trying to sell my art through the gallery.
”

Alonzo spoke next, his tone serious.
“
You aren
’
t having second thoughts, are you boy?
”

“
No. It
’
s just a lot to consider,
”
Brock replied.
“
I can
’
t just show up with a rune on my head. Everyone I know will know it
’
s not real.
”

Alonzo leaned closer, looking Brock in the eyes.
“
That
’
s why you
’
ll need to leave. You wanted a new life. Well, that means you
’
ll have to leave the old one behind. You need to start over somewhere else: somewhere far from Kantar.
”

Brock looked down, his brain racing. Was he ready for this? What would it mean to start over? He had never been close to his father, especially since his mother
’
s death. Of the other people he knew in the city, Tipper and Sally were the only ones he would really miss.

What should he choose? He was a blank slate and could be anything he wanted to be. At only seventeen summers, he was still young enough to apprentice for almost any vocation.

However, he didn
’
t want just any vocation. He wanted to make a difference: to achieve something special. He wanted to be able to save the next loved one when they needed him. That made his choice easy.

“
Okay. Let
’
s do this.
”
He took a deep breath, turning toward Bennett.
“
I want the rune of Issal.
”

Bennett
’
s brows lifted in surprise. He glanced at Alonzo, who whistled.
“
Wow, boy. You
’
re a bold one. I
’
ll give you that.
”

Bennett shrugged and sat in the chair across from Brock.

“
I guess one rune is the same as any other as long as you
’
re paying. After all, you
’
re the one who has to live with it.
”
Bennett dipped the needle into the ink and held it to Brock
’
s forehead.
“
Hold still. This will hurt.
”

CHAPTER 9

Brock circled the crowd surrounding the farmer
’
s wagon, continuing down the busy street. As he walked, he reflected on his father
’
s reaction upon seeing the bandage around his head. When Brock told him he had run into a tree while playing a game with his friends, Milan
’
s only response was,
you
’
d think you were smart enough to watch out for something as big as a tree
.

Rather than asking further questions, his father had set him to work like any other day. After finishing his work and eating, Brock set out to find Tipper.

With the sun dipping behind the rooflines, he approached The Whispering Wench. The inn was a popular stop for travelers due to its proximity to Southgate and the low price for a room. That
’
s where he found Tipper, seated on a barrel near the front door.

Tipper was waving his cup at some sailors entering the inn. One man dropped a copper into the cup and then followed his shipmates inside. Tipper pocketed the coin, smiling when spotting Brock.

“
What happened to you? I was the one who got thumped on the head.
”
Tipper
’
s eyes narrowed at the bandage on Brock
’
s head.
“
Is this a sympathy ploy? Are you trying to poach my turf?
”

Smiling, Brock shook his head.
“
Not at all. Let
’
s go someplace private and I
’
ll tell you about it.
”

“
The wall?
”

“
Sounds good.
”
Brock nodded, waving for his friend to follow.
“
If we hurry, we can catch the sunset.
”

.   .   .

By the time they were on the wall, the sun was at the horizon, its long reflection stretching across the water.

“
I
’
m going to miss this. Watching the sunset is one of the most amazing things about living here,
”
Brock said.

“
Why are you going to miss this? Are you in trouble with your father again?
”
Tipper asked.

Brock turned toward Tipper, whose face was orange in the light of the setting sun.

“
I
’
m leaving Kantar. I haven
’
t told anybody else yet. I
’
m telling you because I
’
d like you to come with me.
”

“
Leave Kantar?
”
Tipper stared down at the road below the wall.
“
I guess I
’
ve never thought about it. I
’
ve never been anywhere else.
”

“
Neither have I.
”
Brock became passionate.
“
Think of the wonders and possibilities of the world out there. What do we have here? Can you honestly tell me you want to spend your life living in crates and begging for your next meal?
”

“
No. I
’
d love to have another option.
”
Tipper shrugged.
“
But what can I do?
”

“
Come with me. I have a plan. I think we can really start over, but I need your help.
”
Brock spun, hopping off the merlon. He pointed to his head.
“
Under this bandage is the mark of a new man, Tipper. I
’
ll no longer be the poor Unchosen boy who lives in the tannery on Flower Street. Now, I can be something more. I can make a difference.
”

Tipper squinted at him.
“
I don
’
t understand.
”

“
Tip, I
’
ve got to tell you a secret. Something we need to keep between just you and me.
”

“
You know me, Brock. I ain
’
t telling nobody.
”

“
I know. That
’
s why I
’
m telling only you.
”
Brock began to unwrap the bandage on his head. As it fell away, Tipper gasped.

Brock pointed to his forehead.
“
Tip, I
’
m entering the Ministry.
”

Tipper was quiet, his jaw dropped open.

“
The man who did this told me it would need a couple days to heal. He also told me to keep it bandaged and to treat it with this ointment.
”

Brock pulled a small jar from his coat, opened it, and rubbed the ointment onto his forehead. It left his skin shiny, reflecting in setting sunlight. He then wrapped the bandage around his head, folding the trailing end under the tight wrap to keep it secured.

Tipper came to grips with Brock
’
s revelation.

“
You have to leave Kantar. Nobody that knows you can see that,
”
Tipper said, finally understanding.
“
But if you
’
re leaving, I
’
m leaving too.
”

Brock smiled.
“
I am
so
happy to hear that, Tip. I don
’
t want to go alone and you
’
ve been my best friend for years.
”

“
When do we leave?
”

“
I
’
m going to buy some things for the trip. Meet me at Eastgate at sunrise the day after tomorrow.
”
Brock started toward the gate.

Tipper jumped off the merlon and followed along.
“
Where are we going anyway?
”

Brock stopped and smiled.
“
Isn
’
t it obvious? We go to Fallbrandt. If I want to become a master, I need to enroll in the Academy.
”

CHAPTER 10

Brock stepped from behind the changing curtain to show the tailor the fit.

She nodded.
“
It seems I was right. Those fit you well young man.
”

He smiled.
“
I
’
ll take these, and I need another set like this for my friend. He
’
s about this tall.
”
Brock held his hand about a half-head higher than his own.
“
But he
’
s a skinny one. His waist is even smaller than mine.
”
He gestured with his hands to get his point across.
“
Also, do you have any inexpensive traveler
’
s cloaks? We
’
re going on a trip, and we
’
ll need to stay warm and dry.
”

The woman nodded.
“
You
’
re in luck. I bought some lightly used wool cloaks from a man who was in yesterday. I
’
ll be right back.
”

She ducked into the backroom, returning a minute later with another shirt, trousers, and two dark gray hooded cloaks. She tossed a cloak to Brock.

“
I think that one will fit you,
”
she said to him.

He held out the cloak to inspect it and then slipped it over his shoulders.

“
This one does fit me. How much for the lot?
”
he asked as he admired himself in the mirror.

The woman scribbled notes on a sheet of paper while muttering to herself. She had a reputation as a fair business owner, so Brock was hoping for a reasonable price.

After a moment, she replied,
“
Two silvers for the lot. And that
’
s a fair price.
”

Brock nodded and handed the woman two silvers. He scooped up his old clothes, the new set for Tipper, and the two cloaks before thanking the woman.

His next stop was obvious. If he was going to travel, he needed good boots. After walking a bit further up Center Street, he entered a familiar cobbler shop. The shop owner raised an eyebrow upon seeing Brock
’
s bandaged head.

“
My, if it isn
’
t young Tannerson. It looks like you banged your head. Did some young lass thump you for getting too frisky?
”
He laughed.

Brock smiled.
“
No, Melvin. It was a tree that apparently thought I was too frisky. It got me good though.
”

Melvin laughed again.
“
Right you are, boy. Trees tend to do that when your head runs into them. Now, what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today? I don
’
t see any hides so it must be somethin
’
else.
”