Page 35 of The Serpent’s Shadow

All three of us were worthy sneakers. It wasn’t because of Hersir Kelvar’s Stealth & Interrogation class. For Sven and I, skulking came by necessity for hunting. For Magnus, well, he was generally a quiet man, and I suspected he had a rune casting that muffled his footfalls.

We came to a closet and Magnus said, “Don’t tell anyone I showed you this.”

Busting the door open with his shoulder—making way too much noise and making me reconsider everything I had just thought about the man—we hurried inside the supply room before Huscarls could storm after us.

He lifted a grate inside, gesturing Sven and I with a sweeping hand, and said, “Hurry up, assholes.”

The three of us descended into darkness. Sven and I had no idea where Magnus was leading us, but as long as it was closer to Ravinica, we didn’t care.

We would put our trust in the dead man. For now.

A couple hours later, we were outside at the base of Academy Hill. The path Magnus had shown us through the underground tunnels had carved straight through the mountain.

I was surprised Magnus knew his way around the tunnels. Again, like he’d been here before. A couple times he got turned around and lost, but quickly recovered.

When we stepped out of the cave mouth, it was nighttime. The air was brisk, cold, even in the valley beneath Academy Hill. Beyond, in Helgas Wood, I could make out the fires and lights of Isleton.

Our trio made our way into town, heads on a swivel.

“Where to?” Sven asked. “I don’t like it here.”

People moseyed all around, closing up their shops, while the pubs were starting to get busy. I agreed with Sven—it was uncomfortable being in town as students, getting leery eyes thrown our way, when everyone here knew students were not allowed to leave the academy right now.

Usually, townsfolk here would never think twice about cadets coming into Isleton. The academy’s student body helped the town run by purchasing all their booze, weapons, armor, and tools. Locking down the academy must have squeezed Isleton’s commerce.

“Liv’s Libations or Trond’s Pub,” Magnus said. “That’s where the gossips go.”

At the end of a muddy road, we walked into a place smelling of sweat, stale alcohol, and piss. I didn’t know or care what it was called.

Frowning, I flared my nostrils. “You expect to find someone useful in—”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Magnus cut in.

Sitting in a booth, staring straight at us through the crowded pub, was a head of golden-blond hair and a bruised face.

Arne Gornhodr looked more pissed than scared.

We approached his table, where he sat across from two people I’d never seen—a yellow-haired girl who looked strikingly similar to him, and a middle-aged fellow with an unremarkable face.

“Beat you to it, I see,” Arne said.

Magnus crossed his arms. “How did you—”

“Don’t recite the ancient recipe to me, dear Magnus,” Arne said in a playful voice. “I was there when it was written. I showedyouthe underground tunnels, remember?”

Magnus grumbled to himself and scratched the back of his neck.

Sven sneered at Arne. “You look more chipper than when we left you.”

Arne lifted a mug and toasted the air. “Nothing a bit of mead can’t fix.” He motioned with the mug to the people sitting across from him. “These are friends, Frida and Dieter. Friends, these are asshats, Sven and Grim. You already know Magnus.”

Magnus said, “What are you doing with the Lepers?”

My eyebrows rose. “The Lepers Who Leapt?” I’d heard of them—every second-year cadet had. But to see them? And for them to look so . . . normal?

Frida was a pretty lass. Dieter wore a cloak and had his salt-and-pepper hair cut short on the sides. They didn’t look like legendary rebels or “lepers.”

It was their eyes that told the story, however. Both Frida and Dieter had seen some shit. They had sadness in their gazes.

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