Page 123 of Fortress of Ambrose
But Winkel’s office was not just an office; it was a home. This is where the man lived. And where he would die. Yagrin walked the circle of his living room. There were leather seats arced around the fireplace, a velvet armchair beneath a window. And there were a few plants. A hall led to several doors. Yagrin sat down by the fire. He shifted in his seat, the thickness of the cushion supporting his back. It was oddly comfortable and colorful.
Winkel poured them a lavender tea and offered him a pipe, which Yagrin refused. Peckle could temporarily dull the mental faculties. He wanted his head clear.
“You don’t ever tire of being stuck up here?” Yagrin asked, leaning on the cushy pillow at his back.
“Privacy is underrated. Constant distraction is an obstacle to the mind and the faith.”
Yagrin braided his fingers.
“What really brings you here?”
“The Immortality Scroll.”
His eyes glinted, staring at Yagrin’s chest. “Your motives are torn.”
Yagrin’s hands began to sweat. He wiped them on his pants.
“There is no need to be nervous. I am here to help.”
“How can youseemy motives?”
Winkel stood and trailed a finger along a row of spines. When he plucked a book off the shelf, he parted it and handed it to Yagrin.
“The short version is fine. I’ve had my fill of mind-numbing reading today.”
A crater appeared in Winkel’s cheek. “I know you’re Nore’s right arm. That’s apparent to everyone except Ginger.” He gestured toward his door, where his clerk sat paces away. “So I will speak freely. Do you knowwhymagic being in the blood is one of the best and worst things to ever happen to this Order?”
He shook his head.
“Before magic was in the blood, you had tohavemagical Sun Dust to do magic. Ancient scholars wrote harrowing accounts of children being taken hostage to ransom for Dust. Everyone wanted the source of magic. The brightest minds of the time found a way to infuse magic in the blood so that itreproduceswith DNA in order to be passed down genetically. There was nothing to steal anymore, but—” He sighed. “That is when the real horrors began. It took a few generations, but eventually deadly lines were drawn. All of a sudden there were certain types of magic that were acceptable and others that were not. Families who had a long lineage of having magic were shunned because the magic that showed up intheir geneswas no longer in the acceptable category.”
Yagrin knew there were the haves and have-nots.
Winkel tapped his eyelid. “Long ago, there was a seeing magic, achieved by applying Sun Dust to the iris in a precise measurement over a specificamount of time. The magic formed a kind of toushana in the bones. But in theeyes, it createdsight. Because toushana is destructive, it allows the person’s sight todestroyany deceptions or lies and see through to the truth. Sometimes it turns the eye an icy blue. It is no longer studied, and because it involves toushana, it is banned. You can hardly find books on it.” He winked. “Unless you’re up here. It’s how I know Nore is the best thing that could happen to this House. I’m determined to see her through.”
“She doesn’t want Headship.”
“She doesn’t want it as it is now. But deep inside there is a love for the House that shunned her. She has always been forced to prove herself.”
“Proving Ambrose is shortsighted, not intellectually superior.”
Winkel conceded with a wave of the hand.
“I won’t try to convince her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I am not asking anything. I am merely trying to help you see more clearly so this conflict in your spirit is settled.” He crossed his leg, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I think your challenge, dear boy, is to help her find the freedom to explore what she really wants. Right now she is scared. Being led by fear is a true prison.”
Yagrin rocked back on his heels, thinking. As much as he loathed the Order, someone like Nore could transform things for the better. He didn’t want to care about the Order. But if he cared about Nore, he had to be willing to support whatever was best for her. Yagrin planted his elbows on his knees, studying the old man.
“Tell me more about the Pact between the Headmistress and the dead.” Being so honest made him sick to his stomach, but he held the bobbing feeling in his throat as Winkel pondered.
“One of the House family’s best-kept secrets. Not even the brightest minds downstairs know about the Pact.” He left the living area, beckoning Yagrin to follow, and walked through a simple kitchen into a praying room. There were kneelers by the windows and candles burning next to an open tome.
“This is one of my favorite Unmarked books.” Winkel flipped a fewpages and then stopped where there was a picture of a man wrestling a beast that was three times his size at least. Yagrin followed the story from illustration to illustration, turning the page. The final picture showed the man standing over the slain beast. “How’d he beat him?”
“Impossible. He couldn’t without a weapon or some kind of magic.”
“Who knows how big the beast actually was? Who knows how small the man was? Only the author and artist. Look deeper. What do you see?”
