The Vengekeep Prophecies (20 page)

I kept replaying my conversation with the Dowager in my mind. I recalled how my chest tingled with excitement to be able to have a very serious discussion about plants and animals on a level that challenged me. Ma and Da had always listened politely when I'd talk about some exciting new book I'd read, trying to get them as enthused as I was about what I'd learned. But in the end, they'd smile and nod. The Dowager, however, listened
closely
to what I had to say and could respond in turn with something equally interesting. I loved it and it was obvious.

Pulling the blankets tighter to my chin, I wondered what tomorrow would hold. Would I be able to enjoy more conversations with the Dowager without feeling guilty, knowing how this had to end? Tonight it didn't matter. For the first time since I started doubting my abilities to continue in the family trade, I felt at home.

Looking back, it was probably that sense of satisfaction that made everything fall apart as badly as it did.

“The honor binding thieves is colder than a gaoler's shackles.”

—
The Lymmaris Creed

O
ver the next two days, the Dowager never left my side. Each morning began with the four of us enjoying a hearty breakfast and the Dowager recommending several books I'd never heard of. Then, she would take me by the arm and lead me from the dining room, Edilman and Callie quietly following us at a polite distance.

The first day, she gave us a tour of the mansion. The third floor, like the foyer, was a mixture of opulent and odd. The art gallery, featuring works by the most famous artists throughout the Provinces, was filled with more of the Dowager's experiments. Glass kettles, filled with multicolored water, hung from the ceiling by hooks. When you placed your finger in the water, the liquid emitted a hum. The pitch varied, depending on which color you touched. The Dowager proudly proclaimed it a “liquid organ.” But she admitted that it wasn't very practical for musicians at present.

Next she showed us the ballroom. Sparkling chandeliers floated and twirled magically above. A copper-trimmed bandstand, covered with instruments just waiting for musicians to play, sat against the far wall. It would have all been very beautiful if it weren't for the towering mounds of sludge and dirt that covered the dance floor.

The Dowager reached into the sludge and pulled out what looked like a shining ruby the size of her fist. I'm sure Edilman nearly passed out. That ruby would probably pay for a ship of his very own to take him from the Provinces. But then the Dowager cracked the gem open on her knee, revealing a gooey, wormlike creature inside that squirmed in her hand.

“I'm breeding slithervox,” she proclaimed. “Wonderful little things. They sing, you know.”

As if to demonstrate, the newly hatched slithervox bleated a slow, eerie tune.

“Between them and the liquid organ,” Edilman said, “you could start an orchestra.”

He was being sarcastic, but the Dowager took in a short, sharp breath, as though the idea hadn't occurred to her … but she liked it. A lot.

We moved to the second floor and came to a darkened passage just down the hall from my room. I peered into the shaded corridor lit by enchanted candles emitting pale green-blue light. Stone statues representing honored generals of the Provincial Guard lined the narrow passage. The passage ended in a massive door covered in a series of locks and dials.

“How interesting,” Edilman said, pushing the pince-nez closer to his eyes. “And what's down there?”

The Dowager waved her hand. “Nothing of interest. My vaults where I store valuables. It's not nearly as interesting as our next stop.”

We moved along but not before Callie, Edilman, and I shared a knowing glance. We'd found one of our two objectives: the vaults. Now we had to locate the ingredients for the solvent that Edilman was so sure were here.

Continuing the tour, the Dowager led us to the mansion's library. I felt a tingle as we entered, like I was standing on hallowed ground. The tomes that lined the scores of bookshelves ranged from freshly bound and barely read to antiquated and crumbling but lovingly shelved. The Dowager glided from shelf to shelf with childlike excitement, reminding me of Aubrin weaving in and out of a crowd as she picked pockets.

I wiped the lenses of my glasses clean and sat with the Dowager as we paged through book after book. I have no idea when Edilman and Callie left us. I only know that one moment they were there and the next, it was the middle of the night and they were gone. The Dowager had dozed off. I helped her to her bedchamber, then slipped back to the library to continue reading.

At breakfast the second day, Callie and Edilman sat quietly by as the Dowager and I talked nonstop about aquatic life, geological formations, studies of the heavens, and other topics that went far beyond my simple love of magic-resistant plants. Whenever I could, I threw them a sympathetic look. But Edilman only ever responded with a touch to his temple. He understood. It was all for the con.

Later, after a stroll through the East Gardens, we sat down to a sumptuous dinner.

“What a bright boy Master Tyrius is,” the Dowager remarked to Edilman for perhaps the fourth time that day. “When you return to the academy, you can be assured that I will be making a sizable donation toward its continued well-being.”

Edilman bowed his head respectfully and I'm sure I caught him smiling to himself, no doubt thinking,
You certainly will, Dowager.

As dinner finished, Edilman suggested we retire for the evening, but the Dowager took my arm. “You two go on ahead. I have something special to share with Master Tyrius.”

Callie and Edilman bowed and exited as the Dowager took me through the kitchen to a door I'd never seen. We went down a long, well-lit corridor ending in a narrow spiral staircase. “Watch your step,” the Dowager warned as she took a green-blue flame candle from the wall and led the way up. We climbed and climbed before coming to a closed door.

The Dowager produced a small key from a hidden pocket on her sleeve and we entered. The meager candlelight did little to tell me where we were. Handing the candle to me, the Dowager turned to the wall to our right, where I spotted a large wheel. Grabbing the wheel, the Dowager cranked it hard several times to the left.

As the wheel spun, I heard the clattering of metal above. Suddenly, a vertical slit of light appeared opposite us, high above the floor. The slit widened with every crank of the wheel, letting in the fading purple twilight. I could see now that we were in a large domed chamber, the dome opening as the Dowager continued to turn the wheel. In the center of the room stood a massive telescope.

The Dowager stopped turning the wheel and led me over to the telescope's base. My heart raced as I took it all in. Spinning some small wheels near the telescope's base, the Dowager bent over and peered into the eyepiece. Smiling, she stepped aside.

“Take a look.”

Closing one eye, I peered in. I saw a small cluster of stars against the encroaching midnight-blue sky. It was the constellation Xaa, but I'd only ever seen it as a dim speck before. Here, in the telescope, it was huge and brilliant.

“Bangers,” I whispered.

The Dowager nodded her approval and moved toward the slit in the dome. I followed her. From this height, we could see far across the forest-covered lands that surrounded Redvalor Castle. We stood at the railing and surveyed the grounds.

“I came to Redvalor Castle to research the natural world,” the Dowager said in her lilting, dreamlike voice. “For the last five years, it's been absolute bliss.”

The smile on her face slowly melted and her flittering eyes grew sad. “Do you know much about mag-plague, Tyrius?”

I knew it had wiped out Vengekeep's cattle several years ago, but beyond that, I knew little, so I shook my head.

The Dowager sighed. “When I was your age, I caught mag-plague. It's very nasty. They weren't sure I was going to live. But I persevered and I survived … at a cost.” The regret in her voice hung heavy in the room. “You can recover from mag-plague, but it leaves you in poor health for the rest of your days. The life expectancy of a mag-plague survivor is quite a bit shorter than that of a healthy person.”

She turned to me and her face became gentle again. “I've worked hard to do my research here and I don't like the thought of dying without someone to pass it on to. So I sent letters to some of the finest schools across the Five Provinces, searching for the knowledge hungry. Hoping to find someone who might serve as my intellectual heir, willing to carry on my studies once I'm gone.”

A lump gathered in my throat, the cool night air adding to the chill I felt as I realized what she was saying. The Dowager laid her thin, bony hands on my shoulders.

“I think, Tyrius,” she said with a smile, “that you might be the brilliant young mind I've been searching for.”

My face smiled, but my gut sank. In the back of my mind, I heard Ma's lessons about not becoming emotionally attached to a mark. Over the past two days, I'd almost forgotten completely that our purpose in coming here had been to trick this woman. Now, as she sat here offering me a heartfelt confession, “Tyrius” was forced to beam while Jaxter tried not to throw up.

Unable to speak, I looked out over the grounds. As my gaze fell to the south, I stiffened and my jaw dropped. Below, I saw a long, large building with glass walls and ceiling. A soft white light flickered inside, making the glass sparkle. Even from up here, I could see the room was filled wall-to-wall with plants.

The Dowager gasped. “Of course! I can't believe you've been here two days and I haven't taken you to see the greenhouse. My pride and joy! Come.”

She took my hand and we descended the spiral stairs.

I breathed in a deep lungful of sweet, earthy smell as the greenhouse door closed behind us. The damp air covered me like a shroud as the miniature jungle crowded the narrow footpaths. Magical white globes hovered in the corners, providing a nurturing light.

“There's no finer and more complete collection of rare and unusual plants anywhere in the Five Provinces,” the Dowager boasted, her arm sweeping the room. We strolled along, studying the unusual leaves and spotted-bark flora. Each individual plant bore a small copper plaque that identified it. I saw the aramon plant from which she harvested leaves to settle her upset stomach. I saw the plants that I kept in the pouches around my belt. I saw plants that I thought had gone extinct.

As we got midway through the greenhouse, I turned a corner and froze. A twisted mass of black leaves and vines jutted up out of a brown clay pot on the floor. A series of large purple, teardrop-shaped pods covered in bulbous, dark-ochre pustules poked out between the leaves. I swallowed and glanced down at the copper plaque.

Wraithweed.

As I reached out, the Dowager said, “Be careful. The pustules contain a very strong acid.”

I nodded, pulling my hand back. After the spiderbat milk, that acid was the key to destroying the fateskein.

The Dowager had taken a small watering can from near the door and gave the wraithweed a healthy drink. “This may be one of the last remaining wraithweed plants. They used to grow plentifully in Jarron Province. Now they're dying out. A lot of magic-resistant plants have been dying out in recent years. I tried to tell my brother about it, hoping he would look into it and perhaps act to preserve what was left of them. But he's too busy with affairs of state and other meaningless jabber....”

Guilty as I felt about betraying the Dowager, I had to think of Vengekeep's plight. I steeled my jaw, feeling for the first time in a long while that we might be able to pull this off.
We could save Vengekeep.

“Tyrius,” the Dowager said, shaking me from my reverie. I turned to see that sad, serious look back on her face. “I want you to consider what I've told you tonight. We're cut from the same cloth, you and I. If you accept, I would ask you to leave your studies with Professor Wenderkin and move into Redvalor Castle to apprentice under me.”

As much as it pained me, I gave her a smile and said, “I—I'd like to think about it. May I?” The idea was tempting. But I was a Grimjinx. A thief. And even if I wanted to study with her, saving Vengekeep meant betraying the Dowager. There could be no turning back.