Page 139 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Of course you hadn’t.” Smiling, she shook her head. “Somehow, you’re both the most intelligent and the most foolish person I’ve ever known. And yet, I wouldn’t change you at all.”
At last, he pulled her in, bridging the space between them. His lips were firm and unyielding against hers, as if he sought topour every emotion into a single kiss. She skimmed her fingers through his hair, prompting a tremor that forced his body to relax slightly, his lips to part. As their kiss slowed to an indolent caress, he wrapped his arms around her, clung to her long after their lips broke apart.
She didn’t love the prospect of going back to the Innominate Temple, and she loved the reasons for this excursion even less. But she lovedhim, and she would remain by his side; she had no intention of breaking that promise.
“Now,” she whispered, “will you stop being a martyr for one godsdamned minute and let your assistantassistyou?”
He nodded, then released her. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot. He rubbed the latter with the heels of his palms.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“First of all, how long will it take us to get to the temple?”
“Two days to get to one of the nearby villages. Then, it’s a matter of tracking down the temple. The magical protections make it impossible to pinpoint its exact coordinates.”
Mavery nodded, recalling how Selemin had once told her the same. “What kind of magic do you think is behind that?”
“It’s likely an obfuscation ward—an exceptionally powerful one, at that. Our spell won’t denote them by color, but I doubt that would make much difference; obfuscation wards are far from my area of expertise.”
“Then I suggest we find an expert. Who at the University specializes in those wards?”
Alain laughed. “Someone who just so happens to owe me a favor.”
Part Three
The Arcanist
Forty-One
“You want to gowhere!?”
Alain stopped in front of the fireplace. Though it was unlit, his forehead was slick with sweat. He’d paced the length of Declan’s sitting room no less than fifty times while recounting everything that had happened that afternoon, from the disastrous spell presentation to the plan to set out for the Innominate Temple. He’d even shared his theory about the temple’s ties to Aganast and the Order of Asphodel.
From his armchair, Declan stared blankly at Alain. He clutched a glass of whiskey, though he hadn’t taken a single sip during Alain’s rambling and pacing. Beads of condensation dripped down its sides.
Alain sighed. “I know this sounds a bit mad—”
“A bit!”Declan bellowed an incredulous laugh. “I understand wanting to prove your worth to the High Council, but there must be an easier way to go about it.”
“Exactly what I said,” Mavery muttered from the other armchair. Declan had also offered her a glass of whiskey. Not only had she accepted it, she’d already drank half of it.
Alain turned to the bookcase beside the fireplace, and drummed his fingers on one of the bare shelves. For a professor,Declan owned a surprisingly small number of books.
“This isn’t about what Iwant,” he said quietly. In fact, few things in his life had ever been about what he wanted. “You don’t know Seringoth like I do. He expected more from me today, and I failed to meet his expectations.”
“Sounds like your mind is made up, then,” Declan said. “But I’m struggling to see why you’re asking me for help.”
Alain turned to him. “I have another theory: it’s possible that the temple is protected by an obfuscation ward. Seeing as you invented the Diversion Ward—”
“That was twenty-five years ago, lad. And since then, my career has been confined to classrooms and taprooms.” He chuckled as he patted his stomach, then took a swill of whiskey. “You’re more suited for field work than I am. At least you have youth on your side.”
Alain’s shoulders sank. At this moment, he felt anything but youthful.
“Could someone else in the Gardemancy Department help us?” Mavery asked. “Selemin might not know much about wards, but they seemed pretty knowledgeable about—”
“No.” Alain shook his head. “I’m not trusting anyone from Nezima’s inner circle.”
Declan scratched his mustache. “You know, this is the sort of thing you’d typically contract out.”
