Page 52 of Minor Works of Meda

“You’re not coming with me.” He saw me open my mouth to answer, and quickly shook his head. “Don’t. I’m going to Buis, to put a stop to this. You’re taking the fastest boat you can find in the harbor back to Missaniech. With luck you’ll be out of the way of any conflict there.”

“Kalcedon…”

“Enough. This is happening. I’ve decided. Pack your things.”

I knuckled my jaw for a moment, screwing my face up in a frown. He was right; there wasn’t much I could do to stop him if he was about to fly off.

But Oraik. Oraik was out there, unprotected, unaware.

“Fine,” I agreed. “But I’m not going Nis-Illous. I’m going to find Oraik.”

“Meda,” Kalcedon straightened from where he was cleaning up my journal and reed pen with a groan. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He slipped them carefully into my bag.

“I’m not. What if you don’t find them at Buis, or what if it’s more than one person and you can’t put a stop to all of it? They might keep killing.”

“That was not my objection. At least go back to Rovileis. Whether or not the Temple’s involved it ought to be safe there.”

“I’m going after Oraik.”

“You are far too important to go off into the wild, at a time like this…”

“If he’s the only heir to the Doregall stone, keeping him alive means the Ward can’t be brought down. Not for good, anyways. And he’s alone. Unprotected.”

“If they’re going after him, then it could be dangerous to be alone with him,” Kalcedon said. My bag dangled from his hand. “You’re too weak to do any good.”

“I have to try. I owe it to him.”

“You owe it to me to stay safe.” With each word Kalcedon’s voice grew louder, harsher.

“No, I don’t.”

“Meda, enough. Anyways, I bet that warship already found him. He’s probably halfway home to his palace by now and surrounded by soldiers.” He was practically yelling. I stared at him, biting my lip.

But Oraik was the key to the Ward. What was the point of having dreams if the only thing protecting us from the outlands came crashing down? And the idea of someone capturing Oraik, murdering him…

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m going after him, whether you think it’s a good idea or not.”

We stood in silence for a long moment as Kalcedon stared at me.

“You know, Eudoria would want…” he started to say. I felt my temper flare.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m going after Oraik. You can come find me when you’re done.”

“Sometimes I really hate you,” he muttered. But despite his words, he drew out his coin purse and shoved it into my bag.

“Kalcedon.”

“You’ll need money,” Kalcedon muttered. “And… buy a knife. A big one.”

“But what about you?”

He twiddled a finger, indicating magic. “I’ll manage better than you would, weakling. But if you get robbed again, I’m putting a curse on you.”

“Like you could.”

I expected Kalcedon to glare at me like usual, but instead his shoulders slipped. A faint smile stole onto his face, beneath his weary eyes.

“Stubborn ‘till your last breath,” he whispered. He reached out and gently took a curl of my hair into his fingers. My breath caught. I found myself searching his face, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. Kalcedon reached for his belt with his other hand.

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