He held out his hand and Jo passed over the thin, oblong disk. He placed it in the palm of his left hand, holding it between them. With his right hand, he gestured upward from his palm, pulling his fingers together as if tugging something out from the stone itself. And, to Jo’s amazement, an image did appear. It was multi-layered and composed of simple lines and interconnecting shapes that glowed faintly in the air. “This is the magical makeup of the item.”
All at once, what had eluded Jo for days now fell into place. She instantly knew how to break down every bit of magic the stone had to offer. “How did you do that?”
“You can do it with any obsidian—at least, any obsidian that isn’t warded against intrusion. It’s a sort of magic conductor in this world that can be impressed upon, not unlike a computer, I suppose.” Samson closed his hands and compressed the image back into the disk. “Let me see your hands.”
Jo obliged and Samson drew a few quick symbols with his fingers in the air over her palms. There was the faint outline of light as they seeped into her skin, and then nothing. “What was that?” she asked when he finished.
“It’s a basic charm imprinted on you. It should allow you to pull apart obsidian workings as long as they’re not warded . . . and even then, knowing your magic, you may not have a hard time of it. Why not give it a try?”
She did as told, and pulled out the same framework Samson had. “How do you know how to do this?” Jo whispered in wonder, looking at all the magical pathways at work inside the tiny disc.
“In my Age of Magic—which really wasn’tthatdifferent from this one, just a few thousand years earlier—humans were the youngest race. Most had no naturally occurring magic within them. Other young races were similar, with very little or no magic.” Jo recalled what he had said a few days earlier about the war of magic being between the haves and have-nots when it came to magic. “Those without had to develop charms and spells to draw magic from other sources, house it, and then give it a structure to do with what we wanted.”
“What else is different between your Age of Magic and this one?”
Sadness flooded his eyes and before Samson could answer with what would no doubt be equally sad words, Wayne stood.
“Well, I think I’m going to go to bed. It’s the only way to put an end to the longest, most tedious day ever. Of my many, many lives,” Wayne announced dramatically. “Last chance to have some fun, doll.”
“I can’t tell if you’re asking me to come to bed with you, or to stir the pot with the elves,” Jo responded without looking up from the disk.
“Both, ideally?”
Jo just shook her head, and Wayne departed for the room to the left of the entry—designating it as the “men’s dorm” with his choice.
Takako stayed with them a little longer, idly skimming a book selected seemingly at random. But eventually, she yawned more frequently than she flipped pages. Bidding them goodnight, she headed off herself.
Silence settled on the room.
After one more, long hour, Jo closed her book, set it to the side, and stretched. “Well, shall we, then?”
“What are you going to do?” Samson asked, looking tired but alert. Even though he questioned, he still followed her to the door without hesitation.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot today . . .” Jo came to a stop at the door. “I know we could just break through anddemandto be taken to him.” She saw the objection on Samson’s face and cut it off at the pass. “I don’t want to do that either. I’d like to speak to him without a fuss.”
“So, then . . .”
“I’m going to create a small diversion, send the guard over to investigate. Nothing serious . . . I just think one of those lovely tables holding those precious vases in the hall is going to lose a leg.”
“You can do that from here?” he asked, awe apparent. “You don’t need to see it anymore?”
“I think I have that covered. If I’m right, we’ll move when the guards do. I’ll destroy the locking mechanism on the door and we’ll go through quickly. So, just stay close to me.”
Samson gave a determined nod, one Jo mirrored back to him before she dropped down onto her hands and knees. She placed her cheek on the floor, peering through the slit she’d been watching the sun shine through for the better part of the day. One eye closed, and squinting, Jo could barely make out a table leg in the distance. But it was enough.
Taking a breath, Jo remembered what she’d seen of the tables earlier. Their make and design flooded her mind as her eyes narrowed on her target—a connection from the leg to the table, a point where the glue could be loosened—and just like that, pegs came free.
A crash echoed from the other side of the door, followed by the scampering of the guards positioned outside.
“Now!” Jo hissed and jumped to her feet, putting a hand on the door and feeling the inner mechanisms holding it closed crack and break. The door swung open and Jo immediately headed right, half-pulling Samson along with her.
They were down the hallway in a blink. With every step they took, her plan seemed to progress without a hitch.
Side-stepping into an alcove, Jo dared to look back.
The hallway was empty.
“I can’t believe that worked,” she breathed in relief.
