Page 35 of Strange Familiar

“A legend,” Iliana explained. “There has to be a document—also in code—that explains how to unlock the rest of it, like the letter A means the number one, though it won’t be that easy.”

Cillian nodded. “And that indicates which texts contain the relevant information to decode, along with a guide for assembling it all back together into one picture.”

They looked at the nearly one-thousand texts Cillian had painstakingly extracted from the folded archive. “That will take weeks,” Han said. “Maybe months.”

“More likely years,” Cillian corrected, feeling the same weariness as showed in Han and Iliana’s expressions. “And that’s if we can find an expert codebreaker.”

“You won’t like this,” Han said, “but I’m worried that we don’t have that long.”

“House Hanneil.” Cillian said it half question, half sigh.

“And the others in the conspiracy. They won’t wait to move on House Harahel. I’m surprised they waited this long.”

“Do you think it’s possible they don’t know you’ve extracted the folded archive and brought it here?”

“It’s a possibility,” Cillian agreed judiciously, “but I hate to rely on us being that lucky.”

“Maybe they thought we wouldn’t be able to figure out why these texts were hidden,” Iliana suggested.

“Maybe they don’t know,” Han pointed out with excitement.

“Maybe,” Cillian agreed, though doubtfully. “They could be waiting on something else.” An uncomfortable thought wiggled to the top of his mind. “House Elal is in the thick of this, too. It could be that Piers Elal is holding them off until…” Until Alise was firmly in his pocket. “I have to go see Alise. I can at least tell her all we’ve discovered.”

“I suppose we can continue the cataloguing and guard these texts,” Han said.

“And make copies,” Cillian instructed firmly. “I’ll get my grandmother to clear it, but I think we can recruit in-house help for that. Also, I’d lay down good coin that many of the texts first hidden away are not in the Harahel archives. Those would be the ones to start analyzing for coded information.”

“And we need to look for that key,” Iliana added, a frown line between her brows. “Do you maybe have any books on codebreaking that I can reference, to see what I should be looking for?”

Cillian laughed. He was far from happy, but the amusement felt good. “Iliana, you are in House Harahel. We have books on everything.”

~ 18 ~

Cillian’s carriage came to a halt at the Elal border. The journey through the Knifeblade Mountains had been riveting, their unusual spires twisting sharply against the sky, the road between them so narrow at times that the precipitous peaks seemed to lean overhead, crowding in and making jagged stripes of the light. He’d never before come this way and had brought several books along that described the history and unique geography of the region, but the scenery was so spectacular, he sometimes forgot to read, the books lying open on his lap while he gazed out the window, enraptured.

The distractions were just as well, as it definitely helped to have something to take him out of his head, pull him out of the endless cycle of worry, dread, excitement, anticipation, and back to worry. He couldn’t wait to see Alise again, to see her face light up as he told her of their discovery. But she also hadn’t responded to the message his grandmother finally allowed him to send. Lady Harahel had eventually relented in the face of his arguments, though it had taken hours of intense debate to wear her down. He considered it his first real victory where she was concerned.

In her capitulation, Lady Harahel, gave him one of the Harahel carriages, which—like everything in the house of his birth—was an antique. The leather on the seats had faded from a once rich crimson to a splotchy brown and odd pink, deep creases having cracked in places to reveal the cotton padding beneath. Rather than the stout and flexible specially made Byssan glass windows the Elal carriage had boasted, this one had thick curtains, the velvet threadbare in patches. Despite the cold, Cillian kept them tied back most of the time, in order to enjoy the view and because the carriage smelled strangely of old soup when closed up. He availed himself of lap blankets and the fire elemental in a floor-mounted brazier, which he tried coaxing to greater warmth using Alise’s wizardly tricks, with minimal success.

Now that he’d stopped at the notoriously well-guarded border, Cillian wondered what he’d do if they turned him away. His message had given the estimated day and time of his arrival, but with no reply he couldn’t be sure if he’d be admitted—he didn’t hope to be welcomed—or repelled, perhaps violently. And what he’d do in the latter case? He supposed he’d find out. With his newfound resolve—no more meekly going along for Cillian!—he found the prospect excited, rather than frightened him.

Stepping out of the carriage, he studied the invisible barrier with his wizard senses. Texts on Elal indicated the barrier had first been conceived and erected some several centuries ago, though around a much smaller territory comprising the river valley where House Elal itself was situated. Over time and with strategic land grabs, Elal had expanded to the size of a small kingdom and then to a large one. How the invisible barrier operated remained proprietary information. Given the Elal specialization in spirit magic, however, scholars speculated that it had been extruded from and remained fueled by spirit essences captured and harnessed to the task. So interesting. Maybe Alise would be able to tell him more.

A moment later, a wizard appeared from a cloud of fog—except that Cillian easily saw that the cloaked woman had used a spirit to create that appearance, much as Alise had done before. Alise had managed the trick far more neatly, though, rendering herself invisible rather than having to disguise the spirit as fog. Cillian felt a surge of pride in Alise, so much younger than this Elal wizard minion. Of course, being the equivalent of a doorkeeper at the Elal border wouldn’t be a plum job by any stretch.

“Wizard Harahel.” The wizard, sporting a gold pin on one shoulder, the House Elal crest of spirits intertwined in a braided circle, tipped back her hood, and scornfully raked Cillian with her wizard-black gaze. “I am Tyrna, wizard to House Elal. Welcome to Elal.”

“Am I?” Cillian inquired mildly. “I received no word on whether I was expected.”

“You are.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Though you are correct that you are not exactly welcome. Lord Elal, however, is interested to interview you, so you may proceed onto our lands. Do not stray from the main road. It will lead you directly to House Elal. You should have no reason to diverge from that path.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Cillian mirrored her smile, though with far more amusement. “Diverging from the direct route often leads to the most interesting discoveries.”

“Spoken like a Harahel,” she replied with contempt, black gaze sweeping over the antique carriage. “I recommend against making any discoveries, interesting or otherwise. Also, the roads in Elal are heated and dry. You’ll want to exchange those sled runners for wheels. If you have them.”

Cillian had been able to see for himself that the snow-packed road ended at the border wall and continued dry from there. “Not a problem, Wizard Tyrna,” he replied genially. He raised his brows when she didn’t move. “I’ll wait until I cross. Wouldn’t want to get mired in this snowpack.” Indeed, the snow on this side had melted somewhat from the radiant heat that clearly could cross the barrier screen, making it mushy and sloppy. He gave her a little bow that he hoped came across as ironic and just ever so slightly mocking. “Whenever you’re ready.”

With a hint of an annoyed scowl, Tyrna yanked off her glove and held out her hand in an impatient gesture. Her familiar stepped forward, placing his bare hand in hers. While every wizard needed to touch their familiar to access their magic—with the salient exception of Gabriel and Nic, who were exceptional in so many ways—it surprised Cillian that Tyrna needed her familiar for such a minor magic-working.

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