Page 72 of Blood of Ancients

So I went to a familiar man—one who made my skin crawl after how he’d violated my mind in the past. I brought the letter from Dieter as a prop for my scheme.

When I walked into Kelvar the Whisperer’s office, he seemed surprised to see me.

“Sir,” I said, bowing low.

“Iceshaper.” The scary mindshaper leaned back in his seat, steepling his hands on his chest. “What is it?”

“You don’t seem too concerned your protégé is missing, with all due respect, sir.”

“Maybe I’m just adept at hiding my emotions, like Magnus Feldraug is.”

“Do you know where he is? Ravinica Linmyrr would like to know.”

“I don’t.”

I grunted, nodding. Then, glancing up, I saw the flash of concern on his brow—only there for a second, when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“Is that all?” he asked, instantly composing himself.

“No.” I lifted the crumpled letter in my hand. “I have a request for Gothi Sigmund, Hersir.”

He looked curious. Spymaster to amateur detective, I could tell he wanted to know what I had cooking.

“What’s the request?” he asked simply. “I’ll relay it.”

“I’m sure,” I said flatly. “If possible, I’d rather relay it to the Gothi directly. I think he’ll want to hear it.”

I found myself in an audience with Gothi Sigmund the next day—almost a week after Magnus Feldraug and the Huscarl scouts were supposed to have returned.

The entire academy was getting restless and worried with their absence. I could tell Sigmund was too, because no one else had been sent on fieldwork aboveground since then.

Sigmund Calladan was joined in his conference room beneath Fort Woden with Canute, the Thane of Vikingrune, or commander of all the fighting forces. He was a brute of a man, nearly Grim’s size, with a nasty scar down his right eye, split through the empty black socket.

Canute’ eye never left me.

I was joined by my escort and voucher, Hersir Kelvar, who stood off to the side while I bowed in front of Sigmund.

“Gothi,” I said respectfully, saluting. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“My time is limited, boy. If you’ve come to ask for the elf’s freedom, don’t waste your breath.”

“I’d never deign to do such a thing.”

Sigmund sat in a high chair, as if he was a king, which annoyed me. His wart-ridden, scarred face was hard to look at. The bone ornaments in his long black beard were off-putting and made him look messy. “Then what is it?” he demanded in his booming, guttural voice.

“You had me watch Ravinica Linmyrr at one point, sir. I would like to do it again.”

Curious, he rolled his head to the side. “I have no need of spying on the half-breed.”

I kept my anger in check at the insult of Ravinica’s name, and shook my head. “You misunderstand me, sir. It’s not Ravinica I’d like to spy on. It is the Lepers Who Leapt.”

He pursed his thick lips. Kelvar struck a curious pose as well, not expecting that.

Gothi Sigmund said, “You’d like to return to your old haunts, is that it? Back from the cesspool where you came from?”

The lumbering man had a way with words, I’d give him that. He had no qualms about demeaning anyone before him, because he had grown confident and arrogant in his many years as Gothi of Vikingrune Academy.

Even with elves knocking on his door, he put on an air of extreme control, as if he wasn’t losing his shit with the elven portal open, and how close he’d already come to a full-scale attack by the Ljosalfar on the academy.

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