Page 46 of Death of the Glass Angel
Janus furrowed her brow. Fascinating tale, but she wasn’t sure of its relevance.
“Oh.” Eros breathed. “She was a mirage.”
Gemellus raised his eyebrows and turned to Eros. “Very good. Though the Argiris say otherwise, scholars assume a mirage created the appearance of the sky upon the earth. In truth, the dragon was but a crimson-plumed desert bird diving from the clouds. But the illusion made the Argiris believe a red dragon ascended from the earth.”
“How do you know she wasn’t a dragon?” Someone behind Janus asked.
“Dragons aren’t real,” another boy said. “They don’t even live in Dragos.”
“No, they don’t,” Gemellus confirmed. “It’s important to remember that evokers cannot conjure that which is unreal. Even if you believe you have seen something, if it was merely the work of a mirage, you would be unable to conjure it, nor recall it.”
Janus scrawled the note into her journal.
“In fact, there are several things besides mirages that evokers cannot conjure.” Gemellus continued. “The living, for one.”
Janus copied every word of the lecture, sorting various concepts into those she could evoke and those she could not. She glanced over occasionally to see Eros’ attention wavering, bright pink eyes wandering the vaulted ceiling.
The tower bell sounded as a new hour began. Most of the kids leaped up, eager to escape the classroom.
“Wait.” Gemellus’ voice shot through Janus like ice.
And everyone else. The kids froze.
“I’ve left a pile of cards by the door. One for each of you. If you can hold onto them for the rest of the night without taking your eyes off them, I’ll automatically pass you on the next exam.”
“How would you know if we looked away?” A girl asked.
“Take another look at poor Adrescu,” Gemellus said, gesturing to the mud-coated boy. “I’ll know.”
The kids glanced at each other in fear. Hurried movement replaced the stillness as the little basket by the door was assaulted, kids fighting over cards. Janus chortled.
“Cards, huh?” Eros shifted in his seat. “So you are a gambler.”
Gemellus walked to the desk and knelt at the boy’s eye level. “You found me out. During my glory days in Sigilus, I was a famed crime lord who ran a popular gambling den. I could teach you my sordid secrets, but it won’t come free.”
“Uh-huh?” Eros leaned forward, enraptured.
Gemellus reached down and patted his coat, pulling a card from his pocket: rose vines swirled on a glossy black surface.
“This is a special card,” Gemellus said. “From a game played only in Sigilus. If you are lucky enough to be dealt this card, it assures your victory. Poor gamblers play it early and squander an easy win. Talented gamblers understand how to turn a losing game into a jackpot.”
Eros reached for the card, but Gemellus pulled his hand away.
“Everyone gets one. Keep your eyes on it until night falls.”
“I can do that!” Eros insisted, reaching for the card again.
This time, Gemellus let him take it. “I mean it. Keep at least one eye on it at all times. If you so much as look away for a second, I’ll know.”
Gathering her bag, Janus paused. “How do you know?”
“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” Gemellus smirked, walking away.
One card remained in the basket. Janus picked it up daintily, elevating her arm to avoid staring at the floor and risk tumbling down the stairs or off a balcony. Eros bumped into the edge of a desk first, then bumbled into the door frame, his card clutched in both hands, held firmly before his eyes.
A simple design painted Janus’ card: a winged woman, eyes concealed by a blindfold.
“What are you two doing?” Evander asked.
