Page 140 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“I can’t,” Alain said. “I need to conduct the field experiment myself.”
“Not the ‘experimenting’ part, I mean the ‘finding the temple’ part. A few years ago, Ferikar over in Transmutation paid someone to investigate this very same temple. The lad he hired didn’t find a way in, but he did manage to get around the traps unscathed. Got within ten feet of the place—at least, that’s what Ferikar claimed.”
Mavery stiffened briefly before throwing back her glass, draining every last drop of whiskey.
“I reckon someone like that could guide you to the temple,” Declan said. “It might set you back a couple hundred potins, but it’s better than blindly wandering all around Dyerland Province for days on end. I’ll see Ferikar at the graduation ceremony tomorrowevening. I’ll ask if he remembers the name of his contact.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow evening,” Alain said. “The High Council has only given me a week to complete the field experiment.”
“Then the best I can do is write you up a scroll or two. Though, without knowing the specific types of obfuscation wards you’re up against, I don’t know how helpful they’ll be.”
“At this point, I’ll take any help I can get.”
Declan hoisted himself out of his armchair and lumbered over to the desk in the far corner. After a few moments of scribbling, he returned with a rolled-up sheet of parchment.
“This is a counterspell for my Diversion Ward. It’s a long shot, but whoever was behind that temple might’ve also figured out a way to trick you into turning back the way you came.” Declan handed Alain the parchment, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, lad.” He nodded to Mavery. “Her, too. I want both of you to come back in one piece.”
“Thank you, Declan,” Alain said.
He and Mavery left the townhouse but lingered outside on the stoop. It was now dusk, and a lamplighter was making his rounds.
“Well, it was worth a try,” Alain said. He opened his satchel, tucked the scroll into the transmutated pouch.
Mavery offered no counterargument. She crossed her arms as she chewed on a hangnail. She’d been unusually quiet since leaving Steelforge Towers. Alain had attributed her silence to her reservations about his plan, but he now suspected she was formulating a plan of her own.
“Do you have any ideas?” he asked.
She blew out a long stream of air, then turned to him. The dark look behind her eyes tightened the knot in his stomach.
“I do,” she said. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
The Salty Surling was a grimy, weather-beaten shack near the docks. The sign above the door was, like the clapboards, coatedin green mildew. It depicted a red-eyed, raven-like bird singing drunkenly as its talons clutched a tankard of ale—an oddly whimsical image for a place like this. Grizzled dock workers shuffled past. Like the air, they reeked of rotten fish and even less savory odors Alain dared not fathom.
Mavery ran her fingers through his hair—an act he would’ve found calming under different circumstances. Alongside his baggiest trousers, his most understated shirt, and his gray travel cloak, this was the final touch for his “common laborer” guise. He felt somewhat exposed without a waistcoat, but Mavery insisted it would defeat the purpose of fitting in.
“There,” she said. “Now your look no longer screams, ‘please come pick my pockets.’ ”
“Is that a possibility?”
She shrugged. “Anything is possible in a place like this. Just keep your wits about you, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and let me do the talking.”
Alain tried to voice a reply, but all he could manage was a weak groan of disbelief.
“Trust me, I’m as thrilled about this as you are, but Neldren’s been to the temple before. I’ve no doubt he’s the same ‘contact’ Declan told us about. Like it or not, we need him if we want to find this temple as quickly as possible.”
“You’re certain he’ll accept your offer?”
“We may be desperate, but seeking me out like he did means he’s even more desperate. So long as there’s money on the table, he’ll at least listen.” She cupped Alain’s chin between her fingers. “You don’t have to do this. I can handle him on my own.”
“I know you can, but we’re in this together.”
She smiled, then kissed him on the mouth. His eyes widened at her unabashed display of affection—and inpublic, no less. But the odds of encountering anyone from the University here were less than zero, and a kiss was probably among the least lascivious things to happen in this corner of the city. So, he kissed her back, and his stomach fluttered at the sheerfreedomof it.
She pulled away entirely too soon and smiled at him again.
“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded. She turned to the door, and its rusty hinges squealed as she opened it. Night had fallen hours ago, and the pub was swarming with laborers and vagrants alike. The ambiance in the Salty Surling made even the most raucous nights at the Lettered Gentleman look like temple services. Gruff voices jeered and spouted profanities over card games and pints of sour-smelling ale. Smoke from cheap tobacco created a thick haze. Mavery had brought her dagger along, and she kept her fingers against its hilt as she crossed the uneven gray floorboards.
