Saga stared at the parchment, unsure of what to make of it. After a moment, she cast it aside, dropping to her knees. Beneath the table was a cabinet, double doors locked shut. As her hand wrapped around the iron padlock, a prickling sensation crawled up her arm and down her spine. Saga was filled with the sudden urgent need to discover what lay behind these locked doors. She jiggled the iron padlock, tugged on the handles, trying in vain to pry open the door. Why had she never learned how to pick a lock? Shehadto get into this cabinet…
“What are you doing?” she whispered, shaking herself. As she pulled her hands back from the cabinet, the strange urgency dissipated. Saga pushed to her feet, glancing at the door. Her Sense was unleashed, but it had trouble penetrating through walls, and she sent a prayer to her patron goddess Marra that Alfson would not make a stealthy approach.
Her gaze landed on the desk drawer, and she rushed to it. But her heart sank as she saw another padlock secured in place. With a sigh, Saga gave it a tug.
The padlock fell open.
Saga stared at it in disbelief for several heartbeats. Surely, it couldn’t be. But there it hung. She sprang into action, sliding the padlock out and pulling open the drawer. Her mouth fell open. Nestled amongst feathered quills and sticks of wax, was a sealer stamp. She picked it up, examined the sigil. A Norvalander wasp.
Time seemed to slow; her mind entirely blank.
This was the queen’s sigil.Alfsonhad the queen’s wax sealer stamp.
Saga’s knees threatened to buckle at this discovery. And all she could think was howfortunateshe was, not only to have discovered the unlocked drawer, butthe precise thing she’d sought all week. She scowled. This must be a trick. It had been too easy. Too lucky for a woman like her. All the same, she slipped the sealer into her bodice.
Saga had just replaced the padlock when a throat cleared beyond the door. She threw herself into the chair across from the desk, just as the iron hinges creaked and Maester Alfson shuffled in. Short and balding, the maester was clad in evergreen robes. Her heart galloped and Saga gripped the chair’s arms.
The wax sealer was in her bodice. Thewax sealer! She wanted to rush back to her room with the stamp, wanted to jump for joy on her bed and scream into her pillow. But she forced herself to be cautious. Above all else, she must not rouse suspicion.
…dosage numbers for Maester Lekka,came Maester Alfson’s thoughts, reminding Saga her barriers were lowered. She recognized the name as the one from Geira’s hidden scroll.
“Saga,” said Maester Alfson, settling into the chair behind the desk. “I’m told your nerves have worsened.”
…a shame it is not Saga who carries a strong warrior’s gift,thought the maester.But I tested her thrice in her adolescence and never did the catalyst have any effect…
“Yes,” she said, trying to comprehend what this meant. Alfson had…tested her? Realizing she was staring, Saga overcompensated by nodding eagerly—too eagerly.Act normal, featherhead.
Alfson peered at her from across the desk. It was impossible to miss the red scar slashing from forehead to cheek, the pale, lumpy mass where an eye should be. Saga focused on his intact eye—dark and assessing, as though he could read her deepest secrets.
…such lovely eyes…
Saga’s gloved hands clasped tightly together.
“Nerves,” said the maester. “Yes. I can make you a tonic to help with that.”
“My thanks.” Saga was scarcely aware of what she was saying as threads of the maester’s thoughts diffused into her mind.
…how irritating for Geira to be abed, leaving the scribing to me, he thought.Surely we can bring another scribe under wing. It is well beneath my skills…
Saga blinked at the maester, trying her best to look natural. For the first time in years—possibly in her life—Saga felt giddy. Like she could jump up from her chair and dance like a fool. She had the wax sealer. Shehadit!
“A particular tonic that comes to mind. One used to treat battle shock,” the maester was saying. “It soothes the mind and body alike.”
“It sounds promising,” murmured Saga.
…Svaldrin compromised,filtered Alfson’s thoughts. Yet Rökksgarde is not ready. Do we risk housing them here for the time being?…
“Passionflower, valerian root and essence of losna,” the maester said, rising from his chair. Alfson made his way to the wall of shelves, scanning its length with a raised finger. After collecting various items, he moved to his worktable.
…one drop losna,he thought.Steady hands, two drops would knock down a horse…
Saga blinked.
…at least there’s good tidings from the north, thought Alfson.
Pulse jumping, Saga held herself preternaturally still.
…a Svangormr Pass sighting. ’Tis not a precise location, but narrows the search considerably…
