CHAPTER TWENTY
WHAT THE TOMES DIDN’T say about having a sphinx around? That they were a magnet for unpredictable events. Life-changing, world-bending events.
From Ozora’s personal journal.
Fraser and I were assigned the search for sigils, while the dragon and her rider searched for the hideout of the mystery Cilirian mage.
Cleobah and I stalked the city streets, and Fraser struck out on his own so we could cover the city faster.
At the end of each day, we would compare notes and add our findings to the map.
We’d found a large map of Hastrior in one of the sealed storerooms and hung it on the stone wall under our common tent.
After a week, we’d searched about half the city.
A pattern emerged, but too slowly for me.
I fretted we were still walking the city, and so did Fraser.
When I first suggested mapping all the sigils, he only stopped objecting when Cleobah said she would go with me.
Actually, he still objected, but Cleobah had stretched out one paw and extended claws almost as long as my hand and said, “Come on, handsome, no one will get near her. I promise, and a sphinx cannot be foresworn.” He’d silently examined her gleaming claws, shrugged, and walked out of the tent, shouting over his shoulder he’d hold her to that promise.
Indeed, no one dared approach us while we were out searching.
Even when we walked through the sections of town that still had residents and businesses, people kept their distance, or got off the street.
That day, we were in a section beyond the harbor to the south along the coast, where most businesses had fled, along with most of the residents.
“There’s another.” Cleobah pointed with one plate-sized paw at the sigil.
The Cilirian who cast these was Adept for sure; the numin reeked of age and experience.
I’d been right to call it ancient. The craftsmanship of the spell was beautiful, deadly, and the Adept did not hide them or their menace.
There was a deep level of contempt in them, too, as if it didn’t matter who saw them for what they were—skillful traps.
“But how could anyone miss that?” Sarcasm was Cleobah’s first language.
While most sigils were smaller, like the one we’d first found, this one was huge, almost as wide as the span of my arms. Since only someone with magesight could see it, the mage either didn’t expect any other mages to see these all over town or didn’t care if they did.
“That one is just insulting.” Cleobah’s statement mirrored my inner thoughts. “The caster wants as many folks as possible to blunder into that and pick up the little shards.”
I made sure I noted the size and location carefully since this was the first one we’d seen that was this big.
“These things not only drain a person’s numin, they also take away their inhibitions.
At least that’s what Cassyrra said.” My voice trailed off, and I fell silent, in awe of the sigil’s raw power.
We stood in the middle of the street, outside the spell’s aura of influence, and it still sent a shudder crawling down my spine.
I wiggled my shoulders to dispel the noxious sensation.
Even the idea of facing a mage that could cast such a monster as this sigil, let alone scatter such spells across the city like glitter at a child’s party, gave me nightmares.
“Don’t forget the seeking compulsion,” Cleobah reminded me.
We found some sigils close enough to parks and fields that allowed Cassyrra to examine them directly, and she immediately recognized Cilirian magic and the unpleasant things that implied.
As far as we knew, the first Cilirians to show their faces in Athypsos'inar since the Sundering were the ones Cassyrra fought off in the initial battle, but these sigils told a different story.
None of our searches had produced any sign of the caster so far, and we had no good explanation for how Hastrior came to be covered in Cilirian sigils.
Only guesses and speculation based on incomplete scrawling on a map.
“Where would this caster be right now?” I asked Cleobah. I had to, even though it was probably a mistake.
It was just Cleobah and me. The street was deserted, so I took a chance and asked about something that might connect to our future.
Such queries, or ones that even skirted it, could trigger unexpected, sometimes unpleasant consequences.
Cleobah could shift in an instant into ancient, scary, and very unhappy with the question.
However, we were alone, and she was in a chatty mood, saying things that were practically hints, so it was a calculated risk.
This time, I got mixed results. Cleobah threw her head back and loosed her pealing, merry laugh. “Clever girl, learning how to ask is as important as what you ask,” was all she said.
Not an answer, but old Cleobah didn’t show up, so I was relieved and frustrated. There’s a reason why sphinxes are labeled ‘capricious’ in every bestiary or academic tome, but her vast knowledge intrigued me. The more time I spent with her, the more she grew on me, bratty attitude and all.
“How many on this street alone?” Cleobah changed the subject.
“This is the third,” I said, glancing down at my notes to be sure, then down the block.
We still had about half the street left to search, but no silvery numin glimmered on the buildings beyond us.
“And the last one.” Cleobah gave me a quick side-eyed glance at my mournful tone.
She didn’t say anything, but her tail flicked, a brief touch down the back of my leg, almost in sympathy.
Unlike some of the other sections we’d mapped, I knew this street well. Fraser and I had loved the ransacked restaurant I faced, and the sigil sprawled across its front felt like an insult.
A wide picture window once filled the space, giving diners a view across the whole of Hastrior’s bay. Some of my happiest memories of that time were formed right there, as the sun set into the sea with Fraser’s clear blue gaze holding mine and his fingers threading through my hair.
Now, plain, rough boards covered the void the window once filled, and the sigil filled the entire frame.
It practically shouted at passersby to indulge their whims, and my stomach churned at the depraved acts already done under its influence.
The residue of those sick appetites lingered along the sidewalks and alleys, tainting my happier memories.
Nausea rose and coated the back of my throat, and I coughed.
Like every other sigil we’d found, this one implanted a copy of itself on any passerby who touched it.
Cassyrra had deciphered its lines and runes, horrified at the work of the Cilirian Adept.
The spells woven into it were designed to trick the unwary who couldn’t see what was invisible to regular sight.
First, a luring spell pulled victims in, and caused them to brush against it, as it lured Fraser.
Touch triggered the spell to launch a copy of itself at the victim, and once that tiny duplicate was securely implanted, a suggestion spell prompted them to indulge any whim or desire.
Then, it attached a sort of siphon to draw off the unfortunate victim’s numin, but where that energy went, Cassyrra could not determine.
The suggestion itself was simple: Indulge your every desire, and ‘seek Vallar.’ Cassyrra had been most disturbed by this part, saying, ++It burns the words into their mind until it’s all they can see. ++
We’d been unable to figure who or what Vallar was, but Hastrior’s residents were well in the grip of the sigils scattered all around the city. The effects were readily seen among the folks on any street corner or back alley, and it broke my heart.
“If only I could see the whole thing,” I muttered to myself, frustrated by how long it was taking to find all the sigils.
Sure I had spells that would extend my vision, but only so far; I couldn’t scan the whole city with them.
It would take us another week at the rate we were going, walking through the city, and I fretted at the time wasted.
I suspected that once the map was complete, the pattern revealed would lead us to the Cilirian mage.
Cleobah turned to me.
“What do you mean?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow.
“There has to be a pattern to where the mage placed these sigils, but we won’t be able to figure out what it means until we find all of them, and this is taking so long.” I sounded petty, and I knew it but didn’t really care. Cleobah’s sly, answering half-grin said she understood.
If we were to have any hope of freeing the citizens of Hastrior from the sigils, finding all of them was the first step to banishing them. The map back at the keep was haphazard. Only after the entire city was mapped would we be able to discern if there was a purpose to the locations.
“I bet if I could get aloft, I could use an eye-spy spell, and speed this up, but Cassyrra’s too big to fly low enough for that spell to work.
” I turned away from the former restaurant, ready to leave behind the ghosts of the past, and headed down the street toward the next intersection.
The sphinx cocked her head, but made no move to follow.
“Why wouldn’t the eye-spy work on the ground?” she asked, her raised voice echoing along the street behind me.
“Line of sight.” I stopped, and turned to answer her. “Also, it’s only good for about a hundred feet, I can’t send it any farther.” Her slow blink was pure feline consideration. I shrugged when she said nothing, and resumed walking toward the end of the street.
Cleobah rose and trotted the couple of steps to catch up, then fell back into a slow, pacing walk at my side. “I’ve got wings, too,” the sphinx said, fluffing her feathers.
I stopped and swung to face her. “Are you saying you’d carry me?” Surprise rippled through me. I’d never considered it because I would never assume she’d bear me like a horse, and frankly, to ask seemed rude, but if she was offering...
Cleobah and I stood in the middle of the street. The rest of the businesses, other restaurants, jewelers, or clothiers were half-burned, boarded-up husks with debris scattered across the storefronts that often blocked the sidewalk.
“I could.” Cleobah shrugged, nonchalant, like it was no big deal if we could finish the map sooner rather than later.
It wasn’t surprise that ran through me; it was frustration, along with a touch of anger.
If she could’ve always flown us over the city, then, “Why didn’t you say something before? ” I demanded.
“I had my reasons,” she said, staring past my shoulder at something behind me. I rolled my head and eyes, mimicking her at her bratty best.
“Oh no! Not this time.” I planted my feet and crossed my arms, unwilling to let this go.
“You said nothing for an entire week, made us traipse all over these streets?” Yeah, I was a little mad about it.
“You say you can talk about the past all you want, so why?” I demanded. Much to my surprise, it worked.
Her face crumpled, and with a sigh, she admitted, “I wanted to see the city.”
I wrinkled my nose, confused by the frankness of her admission.
“You did?” I could tell she was being honest; her eyes glowed.
A sphinx trait I’d read of before, their numin flows when they speak the truth, manifesting as sparks or glowing in their eyes or around their head.
This came in quite handy, too, since Cleobah had a wicked sense of humor and was not above pranks.
However, if her eyes glowed, I could trust what she said.
She’d been curious. Just like a kid. Oddly, it made some of her actions more understandable, if no less frustrating. She didn’t lie; she just didn’t bring it up until then because she’d wanted a closer look.
“I’ve never been in one before, and it looked so interesting, what I could see from the keep.
I’m over it now. This is just depressing.
” Her eyes dulled, losing their shine, and she drooped her shoulders, wingtips sagging, when she glanced at the dilapidated buildings.
She lifted one wing to gesture at the clumps of trash and dilapidated buildings with a limp, dismissive wave.
I held my breath as the gust from even that slight motion brought the street’s funky smell to nose level.
When she looked back at me, her expression shifted from sorrow to excitement.
“Let’s go flying,” Cleobah said and again pointed with her wing, this time with more vigor. “You can use that bench to climb on so you don’t have to jump or pull on me.”
We had the map done that night. That was the good news. The bad news?
There was no denying the pattern that emerged; one that spelled the city’s doom. The Cilirian mage had cast not just the individual sigils within the city, but an enormous enchantment across all of Hastrior.
And we still had no idea who, or where, this mystery mage might be lurking.