Page 11 of A Tower of Half-Truths
In theory, Herold’s directions had sounded simple. In practice, she was in no condition to walk nearly three miles.
When she reached her destination, she’d worn another hole in her right boot, she was drenched in sweat, and she couldn’t find a muscle thatdidn’tache. She almost wished she’d hired a city carriage. But until she knew her plan was feasible, she didn’t have a single copper to spare.
Steelforge Towers was, indeed, the old armory. The enormous red-bricked building resembled a castle. It even had battlements running along its roof, turrets on its northern and southern ends. The entrance—glass double-doors accented with mullions—was definitely not part of the original building.
Nor was the lobby, with its gleaming, black-and-white tiled floor. The room was flanked by staircases with marble steps and curved wrought-iron balustrades. A chandelier hung from the ceiling; dozens of tiny lights glowed with warm auras. Sitting at the desk in the center of the room was an elderly man bearing an umber complexion and a tailored suit.
Perched on his shoulder was a kutauss. This variety of demonspawn resembled a ferret, apart from its red eyes and coal-black fur. To Mavery’s relief—though probably not to the creature’s—it had been declawed. Even a tiny scratch from those poisonous claws would stifle a mage’s arcana. Mavery had learned that the hard way during a job when she’d transported a cage full of kutausses.
The old man gave her a long, scrutinizing look, as if evaluating her appearance: worn boots, ragged trousers, bloodstained blouse, hair ending in a shaggy cut just below her jawline. The kutauss seemed to eye her with an equal amount of suspicion.
“Good day, er,madam,” he said with a forced smile.
Mavery approached the desk and leaned her elbows on the counter. The kutauss hissed. The man recoiled, but his smile didn’t budge.
“A fine day to you, too,” she said. “I’m looking for a wizard who lives here.”
“Youare looking for Aventus?” Eyes widening, his smile finallyfaltered. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t accept visitors.”
The old man flinched again as she reached in her pocket, then relaxed when she only retrieved the newspaper clipping. He donned a pair of spectacles, but he still needed to hold the paper up to his nose to read it.
“Well, it appears I stand corrected.” He handed back the clipping. “You would be the first to call on him in ages. It’s been weeks since I last spoke to him.”
No one else had jumped at the opportunity like she had; that was reassuring.
“Are you sure he’s around?”
“He paid his rent on the first, but he once again failed to pick up his mail. Seeing as you’re heading upstairs, would you mind bringing that to him?”
“Er…all right.”
The man clicked his tongue, and the kutauss hopped onto the desk. He took his cane and hobbled into an antechamber to the right of the lobby. While he shuffled papers and emitted a few grunts of exertion, Mavery remained by the desk, trying to avoid eye contact with the kutauss, which was staring at her, unblinking, with its head tilted to one side. Though it was somewhat cute, its red eyes were unsettling enough to make her shudder. She could almost understand keeping demonspawn around for protection; she couldn’t fathom keeping one as afamiliar.
When the old man returned, she balked at the size of the box in his trembling arms. She took it before his strength failed him. She’d expected only a handful of mail, but this box was roughly the size of an apple crate, and it was filled to the brim with unopened letters and rolled-up issues ofThe Leyport Gazette.
The man returned to his chair with a groan, and the kutauss returned to his shoulder.
“I tossed the oldest newspapers,” he said, “and I had half a mind to toss the entire lot. I’ve tried leaving it at his door, but that’s easier said than done.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Sixth floor, apartment six-oh-five. I recommend taking the lift.”
She followed his outstretched hand to the lobby’s back wall. The lift’s cabin was barely large enough for two people. She had to place the box at her feet and use both hands to crank the lifting mechanism. Her arms ached and her forehead gained a new layer of sweat as she slowly ascended to the sixth floor, but she supposed it was preferable to the stairs.
When she stepped off the lift, her thoughts became peppered with doubts.
Turn around and tell that old man you’re not his errand girl.
You don’t reallywant to be here.
It’s not too late to change your mind.
Mavery blinked, and her mind quieted once more. The first thought had seemed to be her own, but where had the others come from? She shifted the box to one arm, then closed the gate behind her. The rattling reverberated down the long wood-paneled corridor. It contained no windows, but was lit by a handful of sconces—all infused with magic, judging by their halo-like auras.
As she proceeded down the corridor, a new wave of doubts washed over her. These were shorter but more tempestuous than before.
You have no business here.
