Page 164 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Neldren was prising a candelabra off the wall, while Ellice was stuffing her pack with candlesticks.
“Collecting our payment,” Neldren said. He gave the candelabra another tug, and it clattered to the floor. “Didn’t you and Mave promise to share any treasure we find in here?”
Alain rubbed his forehead and sighed. “All right, but remember: anything ofacademicvalue is—”
“All yours, mate, mark my words.”
Aside from the books and silver, there appeared to be nothing else of note within this room, but that didn’t stop Neldren and Ellice from searching every nook and cranny. Alain and Mavery returned to moving the books to her pack. There were only eighteen in total, but if this small collection shed any light on the mysterious “ktonic magicks,” then it was more valuable than an entire tower’s worth of silver.
With the living quarters now thoroughly picked through, the group headed to the door. Its protective ward was permanently anchored to the silver doorknob. With the Sensing spell still active, the blue and silver auras were visible to all four of them.
Neldren whistled. “Well, I’ll be godsdamned.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ellice breathed. “So this is what magic looks like to your eyes?”
“More or less,” Mavery replied with a shrug.
“And this ward is child’s play,” Alain said. “With any luck, we’ll find more sophisticated magic downstairs.”
“Don’t soundtooeager, now,” Neldren grumbled.
Alain broke the ward with little more than a wave of his hand, though Mavery noted how he turned away, attempting to hide his pained expression. The door’s hinges creaked as he pulled it open. With his orb of light guiding them, they descended single file down another narrow, winding stairwell.
At the bottom of this one was a room so cavernous, even Alain and Mavery’s orbs combined couldn’t illuminate the entire space. The far corners remained completely shrouded in shadow. Unlike the living quarters, this room contained no windows. The walls were covered in bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, though many of the lower shelves were bare. Upon the floor were piles of books that Mavery assumed had fallen during the tower’s ascent.
Alain took a step forward.
“Wait,” Neldren whispered. He grabbed Alain by the sleeve and pulled him back. “I felt something in the shadows just now.”
“Can you see what it is?” Ellice whispered.
He closed his eyes, and a faint scent of ash lingered in the air as he probed the darkness. Their surroundings were so quiet, Mavery’s ears began to ring again. After an excruciatingly long moment, Neldren opened his eyes and shook his head.
“My magic’s too spent to see anything, but I can tell we’re not alone. Keep quiet and tread carefully.”
Alain gripped his staff. Mavery’s and Ellice’s hands hovered close to their blades. Neldren’s rested on his pistol. As they crossed the room, even the softest steps sounded like thunder against thestone floor, until they reached a section that was covered with an old rug. Though it was as tattered as the linens upstairs, it dampened their footfalls all the same.
A large desk sat in the center of the room. The papers on top were covered in dust, yellowed with age, and splattered with hardened wax from candles that had burned down to their holders. There was also a journal splayed open on its final entry.
4 Nivose, 534
It has been five months since I fastened myself inside my tower with only Nox for company. Were it not for my commitment to this journal, I would have long ago lost count of the days and given to madness. That none from the Order has followed my instructions and dispelled the wards, I take as the gravest omen.
To leave, we might well run afoul of the Dyadic lunatics. Yet, should I remain here, my larder will run dry within a fortnight and this wretched place will become my tomb. I must convince Nox to
The entry ended there, unfinished.
“This was Aganast’s journal,” Alain whispered. “I recognize the handwriting from the letter Con…” He took a deep breath. “From one of his letters.”
“He spent five months in this place?” Mavery whispered back.
“Reminds me of my own confinement.”
“At least you had sunlight.”
“At least he had company.”
She looked at Alain, but he only gazed at the journal. He tucked it in the outer pocket of his satchel, where it wouldn’t be jostled around with the much heavier books. He then riffled through the loose papers on the desk.
