Page 45 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“There, you have officially started.” She pointed out the door. “Now, go take a nap.”
With heavy-lidded eyes, he opened his mouth and raised a finger. Before he could say a word, she grasped his shoulders, steered him out of the kitchen, and closed the door behind them.
“Gods help me, Alain, I will put a blasting ward on this door if I need to.”
“Detonationis the proper terminology.”
She scoffed. “I thought you didn’t care about being ‘proper.’ ”
“Regardless… One day soon, you will think back on this moment and wish you hadn’t delayed me.” He held up his hands. “But, if you insist, so be it.”
He stumbled to the sofa, lay down, and closed his eyes. Mavery knew better than to jump straight to work. She waited a moment, then waved a hand in front of his face and prodded his shoulder. He was out cold.
First, she considered the storage room. He always kept it locked but unwarded while he was at home. She wasn’t about to reach for the key around his neck, so she would need to pick the lock. But that risked making too much noise. If he woke up, she would be directly in his line of sight. The bedroom, which was behind him and always unlocked, was the safer option.
She removed her boots, then tiptoed around the sofa and to the bedroom door. She winced as the hinges creaked, and she wished she knew the Etherean words to create a soundproofing ward. She glanced at the sofa; the noise hadn’t disturbed him.
Once inside the bedroom, she wasted no time. She closed the door, then dropped to her hands and knees beside the bed, and pressed the floorboards one by one. The loose one was directly in the center, and she had to lie flat on her stomach to reach it. Carefully, silently, she prised the board free and placed it aside, uncovering a thin metal box. She reached a littlefurther—
The sofa creaked.
“Damn it!” she whispered. Pulse racing, she replaced the floorboard, followed by the rug, then rose to her feet. She froze, waiting for another sound to follow.
A few heartbeats later, Alain’s footsteps approached.
There was no use wasting her arcana on a shrouding spell when he’d detected her so easily the first time. So, she did the only thing she could think of: she would get caught on purpose. She grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the bed, then turned and pulled the door open. She feigned surprise as she almost collided with Alain face-to-face.
“Oh! Awake already? I didn’t hear you get up.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“You didn’t look very comfortable, so I wanted to bring you these.”
She raised her arms, showing him the pillow and blanket. His gaze softened as he gave her a weak smile.
“Thank you, Mavery. That was very thoughtful of you.”
With a pang of guilt, she smiled. A small part of her wished her gesture had been genuine.
“And you’re right,” he said, taking the linens. “The sofa isn’t particularly comfortable. I’m afraid I won’t be much company, but you can continue working if you wish.”
“I’ll stay a little while longer, just in case you need anything.”
She left the bedroom, then swore under her breath as she leaned against the closed door. She didn’t know when she’d get another chance to check under the bed, but at least now he would be out of the sitting room for the foreseeable future. At last, she could try her luck with the storage room.
She rummaged through her pack and retrieved her lockpicking tools. She hadn’t used them in ages, and her skills had gotten rusty. Bypassing the tumblers took her several attempts. Her quick pulse, shaky hands, and need to glance at the bedroom door every few seconds, all slowed her down. Finally, there was a soft click as the latch released. She returned her tools to her pack, then slowly opened the door.
The storage room had no windows, and the light from the sitting room only did so much to illuminate it. She took the lampfrom Alain’s desk, infused it with arcana, and carried it inside. When she’d glimpsed this room once before, she hadn’t seen the ladder in the center, bolted to the floor and ceiling. She raised the lamp, revealing a hatch overhead.
She set the lamp at the base of the ladder, then climbed until the hatch was within reach. With one hand grasping a rung, she pulled the door downward. The hinges creaked, echoing through the room and sending her heart into her throat. She waited for any stirring from the other side of the wall. When she heard nothing, she opened the hatch the rest of the way, then winced as light flooded in from above.
She pulled herself into a round room with a high ceiling and tall, thin windows. The walls were made of the same red brick as the building’s exterior. This had to be the northern turret, and Alain had turned it into an art studio. An easel held an oil painting in its earliest stage: blue streaks across a white canvas. Propped against the curved wall were more paintings: pastoral landscapes, floral arrangements, bowls of fruit. The paint was dry on all of them; they’d been completed some time ago.
So, Alain had another hobby aside from potion-brewing and book-hoarding. Mavery wasn’t sure why he’d gone through so much trouble to hide it from her. To her inexpert eye, he had some talent, though the subjects he’d chosen to paint weren’t exactly inspiring.
She descended the ladder. She left the hatch open but still needed the lantern to investigate the crates in the far corners of the room. Most of them contained art supplies, linens, summer clothes, nothing of real value. The rest contained items that only held sentimental value: stuffed animals, textbooks, and Barcombe Academy uniforms. Curiously, she found his University of Leyport diploma—he’d graduated with the highest honors—tucked behind a stack of crates. She also found a wizard’s staff, but without any Ether-sensitive gems, it was little more than an ornate walking stick.
Then, a paint-spattered tarp caught her eye. She pulled it away to reveal a half-dozen portraits. They all depicted the same subject: a young man with light skin, auburn hair, and mismatchedeyes—one brown, one blue.
