Page 52 of Death of the Glass Angel
“For me?” Gemellus took the scroll and nodded. “Thank you.” The man rose from his bow and departed. Gemellus felt the scroll’s dimensions before handing it to Janus. “Would you mind reading this for me?”
“Sure.” Janus turned the scroll over, noting the star stamped in wax before breaking its seal and unrolling the parchment. She cleared her throat before reading the somewhat uneven handwriting. “Dear Gemellus, I regret to inform you of the recent death of a dear friend. Veren has passed, unexpectedly-”
Gemellus stiffened and snatched the letter from Janus. “I’m sorry. I thought it was going to be another droning request from Lady Hebe.”
“Who’s Veren?” Janus asked, curious.
“The husband of Altanbern’s Royal Chieftess,” Gemellus answered distractedly, tapping the letter against his palm, no doubt agitated he could not read it himself.
“Oh. I’m sorry. He was your friend, right?” Janus attempted to offer sympathies.
“We should get back.” Gemellus marched away.
Worried, Janus followed Gemellus back to the college tower. The lake stirred against the bridge under a growing breeze, and crimson dotted the skies as the tower’s heavy doors opened and beckoned them inside.
“The weather is turning foul,” Gemellus said. “I know it’s your free day, but maybe stay inside.” Nodding, he turned and marched away.
Frowning, Janus loitered in the college’s grand entry hall.
Gemellus had said only a glance was required to recall places and people in perfect clarity. Every detail. Every smudge, every imperfection.
Though Janus had read only the first line, she had glanced over Gemellus’ letter. And only a glance was required.
Closing her eyes, Janus reflected on the trip through the town, and holding the parchment. The memory surfaced in her mind like viewing a painting of her life. And though she had been concentrating only on the lines she had been reading aloud back then, in her memories, she could see the neat scrawl filling the remainder of the page.
Dear Gemellus,
I regret to inform you of the recent death of a dear friend. Veren has passed unexpectedly.
His son was by his side and suffered severe injuries. Thankfully, Felsin is expected to make a full recovery. The Esseg’s shaman called it nothing short of a miracle.
News around the city calls it a freak accident. An unfortunate stroke of luck. But I think you and I know better. The clock hands of fate have begun to turn, and none can stop the march of time.
The Priestess. The Tower. Death. Illusion. That was the fortune I pulled today.
What of you? When I was a child, you despised youths. But now you teach them?
A hefty dose of arrogance mixed with a spoonful of insanity—that’s how I’d describe you. Are you sure you’re up to the task?
I feel for Felsin, losing a father who was clearly beloved. He recently expressed interest in my work. I think I might take the boy under my wing. Perhaps I’m getting old, but the thought evokes old memories.
He’s a good kid. Odd, but calm. And he has the most precious cat—one with a lazy eye. Something tells me you would say, ‘It reminds me of you.’ And he’s named it Sors. Now, wherever did he hear that word?
See you soon,
Alfaris
* * *
Janus’ eyes flew open. “Alfaris.” She blurted out. “You know him?”
Felsin gathered his cards together. “He’s my mentor.”
“Of what?”
“Of. . . of this.” He gestured to the fortune-telling setup.
Not an evoker, then. But the link was there. Two mentors who were well acquainted.
