Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Would they really lose everything if he burnt the place to the ground? Kane wondered, pacing the small guardstation as Afton busied himself in his books. It was close to midnight, and they made little progress with the coded index.
They were so close. Kane could nearly feel the map between his fingers. The next piece that would get him closer to the Heart. But the traps behind those doors remained troublesome, and the index that was meant to lead him to his prize had been coded beyond belief. He clenched his hand into a fist.
That scrap of paper was supposed to be a solution, not another problem.
Kenneth had promised it would lead Kane to the old maps, along with a list of books Kenneth wanted in return.
What the blasted shipwright failed to mention, was that the index was in code—another layer of trouble Kane hadn’t signed up for.
“I can feel you brooding,” Afton chimed, nose still buried in the pages of his scrolls and papers.
“This is taking too long.”
“I agree.” Afton flipped through a few more papers before moving to the contents Kane brought back from Tarth.
“How do you suppose he got that?” Kane couldn’t help but ask.
It didn’t matter if he made the king’s personal cruising vessel, an indexed list of items in the Chancellor’s library would have been impossible for one to acquire.
Even Kane wasn’t sure his original plan would work.
He just hoped to bully enough people into spilling secrets, including Iprix if he were still alive.
Afton’s mouth twitched into a frown. It was a clear sign that he didn’t know the exact answer, but the tapping of his fingers meant he had an idea. “My best guess is that someone high up owed him a favor. Kenneth was never a man to be underestimated, just a man who was far too kind for this world.”
Kane let out a snort. That kindness seemed to have skipped his offspring. “But who would have those connections?”
“Maybe a reformed diviner,” Afton mumbled under his breath in a way that made Kane wonder if he was supposed to hear it.
“And what was your plan if he didn’t find you? Go in there with swords drawn? Blast fire until you got answers?” The mage asked but sounded entirely uninterested in the response.
“Close. I was going to find the Chancellor and ask directly.”
Afton quirked a brow. “He was comatose. You were never going to get an answer.”
Kane shrugged. There were ways to force lucidity on men who were close to death. Ways to rip confessions from dying breaths before a spirit left the body for the Realm Beyond.
But Afton didn’t need to know such things. It went against everything his academy and the nation believed in. Plus, Kane was not a fan of oversharing.
The chair creaked against Kane’s weight as he settled across from Afton. He would sift through everything he had found on the Heart of Starhaven while the mage tried to crack whatever code Kenneth sent.
They worked in silence. Turning pages, cross-referencing notes, muttering and swearing beneath their breaths. Finally, Afton stretched and broke the silence. “What makes you think the Heart of Starhaven is real anyway?”
Kane internally cringed as his secret spilled from Afton’s lips.
He hated having an outsider know his final goal, but he needed the man’s help.
At least the bindings of their pact were stronger than the ones he made with Kenneth.
Kane was sure that no sideways deal would allow the holds of arcanum to budge from the mage’s throat.
“Well, if you didn’t think it was real, you wouldn’t be helping me find it.”
Afton grinned. “True.”
Kane sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin in thought. “I’ve never met a Tarthan so open to legends from the Great North.”
“I’m not like most Tarthans.”
Kane snorted. He could think of another Tarthan who was full of surprises. In just a few weeks he had gone from working with no Tarthans, to four. Mistress Fate must enjoy playing games with him.
Afton returned to his journal, scribbled a few notes in the margin. After another hour of wasted time, Kane gave up. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” He sighed, leaving Afton in the small room. The mage didn’t even bother to say goodnight.
Cool night air brushed against Kane’s cheeks and helped take the edge off his fraying nerves. The constant failures were growing heavier each day. There were always going to be difficulties, but he never anticipated the number of hurdles he would encounter from this godsforsaken island.
The protections around the fort were old magic, closer to the practices of witches in the north. It must have been built just before the veil cut off ties with the rest of the continents.
He strode through the courtyard, allowing his instincts to draw him back to his ship. That was where he felt most comfortable.
A rustle in the bushes had him pause. Up the sloped hill, just outside of camp, he could hear the faint sound of cracking twigs and boots crunching over dirt.
None of his crew would be near that particular lookout point at this time of night. Most tried to avoid the old cemetery in that direction.
Kane reached for his Grace and willed the shadows to hide his form.
She emerged. Erinna pushed through the remaining foliage, pausing briefly to brush dirt off her pants and pick stray twigs from her disheveled braid.
Kane’s breath caught as her gaze swept across the path, searching for witnesses. When she released a quiet sigh of relief, Kane’s own tension eased. She hadn’t spotted him in the shadows.
She turned briefly toward shore, where the Hellish Rebuke loomed in the distance.
Its silhouette dark and menacing in the moonlight.
Erinna waited a long moment before pivoting back toward camp.
She brushed by him, so close her scent of sandalwood and sage consumed him.
Lingered even after she had disappeared from view.
Of all the things to happen on this island, Kane did not expect to catch Erinna Yarrow prowling around an old graveyard in the middle of the night. It was quite interesting, indeed.