Page 33 of Zel
“Why would I need to? I already told you that my truest treasures I keep out here.” His next nod was to the shelves of trinkets that had tempted Zel’s parents all those winters ago.
“May I ask you why that is?” Zel turned in his chair to look at the items. “You get thieves frequently enough. Why risk having what is precious to you so much easier to take?”
Ulrich grinned. “By all means, attempt to take something from that shelf.”
Apparently, Zel had walked willingly into his next test. Although part of the test might have been to gauge whether or not he had tried to take something from the shelf before.
He had not.
There was a myriad of items, all made from precious metals, bejeweled, or both. Zel couldn’t guess at any of their magical properties, such as a gold and silver necklace with entwined snakes for its pendant.
Or a set of golden scales balanced by a skeletal hand steadying its fulcrum.
A glass orb on a small silver pedestal with swirling green mist within.
A book made of strange leather, ominous compared to the tomes on the other shelves. It was embossed and bejeweled, yes, but its silver clasp to lock it seemed to be a closed eye. Zel did not want to guess whether that eye could open.
There were many things, but also what appeared to be a gold and emerald hairpin.
Zel chose to reach for that. As soon as he had plucked it from the shelf, it vanished from his fingers, and when he looked up, it was back on the shelf where he had found it. “No wonder you needn’t worry about thieves.” Before being interrupted by Ulrich, Zel’s parents must not have managed to try taking anything from the shelf, or they would have mentioned its trick. “Might I ask you about some of them?Whythey are precious to you?”
“Most are because they are part of my history or some strong memory.” Ulrich joined Zel in front of the shelf. “But yes, you may ask about them.”
Zel pointed out each of the items that had most caught his eye.
“Notice how the pendant is an ouroboros?” Ulrich said. “It protects the wearer from harm but at the slow cost of time left on their life. It is gradual enough that one might not notice, but greater injuries can mean decades lost. I used it to assassinate a neighboring king, knowing he would foolishly take the bait and charge into battle wearing it.
“The scales weigh intent. Most thought it weighed whether or not someone was lying to me, but lies can have purpose. If someone wished to use lies or even truth against me, however, it would weigh their treachery and remove that same weight from their body.”
“Remove…?” Zel repeated with a shudder.
“It is best to not imagine it. But I used it on anyone who attempted to get close to me, whether to serve me in my rule, in battle, or in my bedchamber.”
Zel’s fear spiked.
“It has since lost its magic from overuse,” Ulrich finished.
“The magic in an item can run out?”
“It depends on how it is made. The scales needed to be charged regularly. Since I lived alone for so long, I stopped bothering.”
Thank God.
“The orb can look anywhere one desires,” Ulrich continued, “but only places the onlooker has been before. I mostly use it to see how my old homeland fares.” He ran a hand over the glass, and the green mist cleared to show a vision of a kingdom similar but still somewhat changed from what Ulrich had shown Zel of elven lands.
Then Ulrich turned his attention to the book.
“One of my first teacher’s spellbooks, filled with forbidden magic. I was only to use it when in her company. I did not follow that rule. Eventually, when I was poised to surpass her, she used her own soul to lock the remainder of its contents from me. I used to show her my exploits that she failed to prevent, but I let her sleep now.”
Zel instinctively sidestepped away from the book, since it seemed the eye could open when prompted. “You can't release her?”
“No. That type of magic is irreversible, but she knew the danger when she sealed her fate.”
“What of the hairpin?” Zel asked.
That item Ulrich took from the shelf, and unlike when Zel had taken it, it remained in his grasp. “There is a simple spell on it, one I put there to ensure it never tarnishes but is always as pristine as the last day it was worn. It was my mother’s.”
“Your mother’s? But I thought you were an orph—”
