Page 29 of The Duke and the Disciple

“The air isalwayscooler here. Even in springtide. So the smoke goes up. It eventually dissipates, as all gaseous matters do, but not before creating a haze.” He flipped through the pages once more, pausing every few with a hard tap. “Every third, eighteenth, and twenty-seventh day is a bonfire night in midwinter, but in wintertide, it switches to every second, sixteenth, and twenty-ninth. Look at these dates.”

Aesylt leaned in, but he was flipping too fast. “You’re saying the nights we couldn’t see the bowman were bonfire nights?”

Rahn nodded, visibly restraining a burst of elation.

Bonfire nights were a Vjestik tradition, a reason to gather as a community. Warmth, food, ale, and conversation. Some joined to cast salt or other spices into the flames, to invite protections against their family or business. Others used the bonfires to dispose of unwanted items. Most came for the community. But those nights were always a spectacle. Five, six, sometimes seven pyres would burn down the main road, enough to warm the entire stretch, leading to ashy mornings that put a burn in even the strongest villager’s lungs. “Contaminants in the air create obfuscations...” Aesylt made ahuhsound. “Well it seems so obvious now.”

Rahn loosed his spectacles from his face and let them fall with their chain against his chest. It was then she saw the gleam of keys in his lower vest pocket. “We were looking for the wrong patterns. And yes, it does, doesn’t it?” He shook his head. “Of course, to validate, we’ll need to visit the observatory on those nights.”

Aesylt wanted to share his enthusiasm, even if she couldn’t find the desire to express it. But the way Rahn had been acting like nothing was amiss, deftly dodging any attempt she’d made to argue the merits of defying Drazhan’s ridiculous order, was all the armor she needed to keep her giddiness to herself.

And there was still—like a festering sore—the matter of the proposition she’d made, which he was pretending hadn’t happened. He’d said not a word until he’d smoothly called her to task for being a hypocrite.

“Can’t very well do that locked away in your apartments, can we?” She spun away, ashamed of her lack of restraint... her insolent tone. It was impractical and worked against her plan, which needed to happensoon,or she’d be forced to wait another night. Without knowing what the devil was going on outside their doors, or when it would stop, she couldn’t afford to delay.

“It’s not forever.” His eyes locked onto hers. The way he treated every person speaking like they were the only other individual in the room had always disarmed her, but she was impervious in her current state of annoyance. His gaze swept downward briefly. “I can have your vedhma bring more clothing for you. You could wear mine, though you’d be swimming in it.”

Aesylt patted herself in indignance. “What, am I too filthy for you, Scholar? Is there a stench?”

“Neither question requires an answer, as I’m sure you knew before you asked.” He grinned and stood, setting his notebook and quill on the small table. With a stretch and a yawn, he turned toward the room.

Stop goading the man. You need his concern pointed anywhere but you.“Fine. Send for clothes. Trousers and blouses though. I’m tired of gowns.”

“I will then. First thing.” He reached for his implements and carried them to the armoire where he kept his ink blots and paper.

It’s now or wait another night.

When she was sure he was fully occupied, Aesylt carefully slinked to the other side of the room, opposite of where his back was turned. She started a slow tiptoe toward him but froze midway, when he looked over his shoulder.

“Look... I know you’re frustrated. I’ll send word to your brother tomorrow and see if he’ll at least give us... something. Perhaps he’ll see fit to expanding your borders so you’re not stuck with me day and night. Even I would consider it torture.”

She could almost feel him grinning to himself at his flat attempt at humor.

Aesylt muttered her response from the side of her mouth, praying it was enough to obscure her location, and he returned to sorting his cabinet. Flitting forward another few steps, she breathed deep and stretched a hand slowly forward, then stopped when it looked like he was going to speak again. When he didn’t, she said a silent prayer and reached forward, this time hooking her pinky under the thick ring of keys poking from the top of his vest pocket. He tensed, but something else drew his attention, and the danger passed.

She squinted, bracing from head to toe as she slowly lifted. Her hand shook, so she went even slower, until she had them fully extricated from his pocket.

Rahn startled again. When he started to turn, Aesylt swiftly shifted into the celestial realm.

She couldn’t stay any longer than it would take him to search his apartment and discover she wasn’t there. But if she phased back while he was still standing at the cabinet, he’d see her and the stolen keys and know precisely what she’d done. She’d never be able to hide them fast enough. And he’d certainly never be so careless again.

Panting, she took a moment to recover herself. Starwalking had limited function as a stealth ability. She could only return to where she’d left. She couldn’t shift into the celestial realm and stalk the halls, learning their secrets, because she could only see those who were in the realm with her. Rahn could be anywhere. She’d only find out where upon returning, and if she did at the wrong time, it was over.

She had no choice though. He’d be looking for her soon, if he wasn’t already.

Aesylt counted to sixty, phased back...

And stumbled sideways from the force of her relief.

The cabinet was closed and latched.

The scholar wasn’t in the room at all anymore.

“I’ll be finished dressing shortly and then the bedchamber is yours for the night,” Rahn called from the distance. “I may turn in soon actually, if you don’t find it terribly rude.”

“Hvala, Ancestors,” she whispered, stuffing the keys inside the bosom of her gown. It was the one place his gaze wouldn’t travel. The man was far too concerned with proprieties. “Of course not, Scholar,” she said, louder, grinning in the nascent dark. “I think I may just do the same.”

Aesylt crouchedbehind the split of a double-trunked evergreen at the edge of the courtyard of the Petrovash estate, Hibernal. There were only a couple of guards she could see, both swaying on their feet. It was otherwise unsurprisingly quiet, reminiscent of the Petrovashes’ famous neutrality on all matters.

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