“Iprefer making progress.”
Finn heaved a sigh. “Fine. I spoke with several people who were acquaintances with Heron. None of them seemed to know him deeper than surface level, so I spoke to Callalily. She gave most of the same tearful answers as she had before, but when I prodded her, she did reveal that Heron was on edge the week of his murder. Said he was constantly writing in some journal he wouldn’t let her look in, and told her he wasn’t going home for Eventide because he had business to attend to here.”
Castien opened his investigation notes again and wrote down what Finn said.
“Anything else? Does she know where the journal might be?”
Finn raked a hand through his curls. “She said they took all of his stuff back to the Wild Holm. The only thing that stood out was how much she harped on the oddity of his staying here forEventide. Apparently, he had a sister back home who he talked about all the time. She said it didn’t make sense that he’d want to stay here and miss seeing her.”
Castien dipped his quill in the gilded inkpot on his desk and wrote while his Gift weaved together all that he knew in his mind’s eye. He’d gotten used to working alongside the writing in the air.
“If only we could have that journal,” Castien murmured. “We need physical evidence.”
“There’s no way to make it to the Wild Holm and back before Eventide ends. We’ll have to find something else. Or,” he said carefully, “we can accept the academy’s findings as truth and move on.”
Castien shook his head. “There’s too much at stake here. A member of the Order was killed. I won’t let this come back to hurt us.”
“What do you propose we do? I’ve talked to everyone who knew the man. The only person left would be Professor Ivanhild, who’s on the Wild Holm right now. No one saw Heron leave the grounds or heard anything suspicious that night. It’s a dead end.”
“There are no dead ends,” Castien said. His Gift drew up theories and ideas that only he could see in the air above Finn’s head.
“That’s preposterous. Of course there are.”
“Maybe,” Castien conceded to make his next statement better received. “But not this time. I have a plan.”
Finn raised a brow in question.
“We’re going beyond the Wall. Tonight.”
Finn laughed, “Being holed up in this study has been a detriment to your mind. What argument do you have to support this ridiculous idea?”
“Kalyxi was killed on the other side of the Wall. It would stand to reason that we have a higher probability of finding evidence there. I’m sure the academy didn’t look very hard after they saw him ripped open.”
Finn shook his head. “You said yourself that everyone knows not to go into the Whispering Woods. Do you not include yourself ineveryone?”
Castien smirked. “Not usually, no.” He finished up documenting his plans with a flick of his quill, then stood. “Besides, we aren’t going into the forest. We won’t venture more than a foot from the Wall. I simply want to see if anything was dropped or if there are any signs of a struggle near the exit.”
“I think you want to get us killed by a cryptura.”
It wasn’t entirely outlandish for Finn to accuse Castien of such a thing. Cryptura were what the sages deemed the collection of creatures that lurked in the darkest parts of every island. There were various kinds of cryptura:dyrekin, mimicta, harpen, vupyr, and more.
“You are the one with a death wish if you keep questioning my plans,” Castien replied and walked over to the shelves of journals to his right.
Many of the previous High Inquisitors had written about cryptura. It would be helpful to read their notes to prepare. The academy taught the creatures in some of the history classes, but not enough to be useful in facing one. Headmaster Acanthia discouraged the study of cryptura,as did many professors before her.Close to a hundred years ago, they offered a course on the subject, and several of the students had taken it upon themselves to go into the Whispering Woods to try to catch one of the creatures in order to study it more closely. Two out of the four students were killed. That was the last time the course was offered, and the last time until two weeks ago that someone had ventured far enough beyond the Wall to be killed.
“Someone has to question you. An ego as significant as yours must be checked for the safety of society as a whole,” Finn said while Castien searched the shelves for a certain journal he remembered having an abundance of cryptura knowledge.
“I am not the one who parades around the academy, flirting with every woman I lay eyes on.”
Castien pulled a journal off the shelf and opened it to the first page. Jon Eldenfich, a former High Inquisitor. His obsession with cryptura was rivaled by no one, and he compiled everything from books, stories, and his own encounters in his journal.
“I don’t flirt with every woman. I leave the professors alone.”
Castien raised a brow. “Professor Opal?”
“That was one time, and it was only to get an extension on an assignment. She is far too shrill for my taste.”
Castien set the book on the desk and faced his cousin.
