Magic surrounded me, but I refused to let it overwhelm me. I had held the heir’s contract for quite a while the day before; I ought to recognize the sound. Even with so many threads of power in one place, even when they all resonated with the same pitch, they were still unique. When I concentrated on one, it became distinct, the rest blending together in my mind. Then I could shift my attention to the next strand, slowly working through them all. Eventually, I heard the whisper I was looking for. I followed the sound, tracing the path with my hand as I kept my eyes closed. Then my hand bumpedagainst the wooden shelf and I opened my eyes. I was in the wrong row. The strand of power extended beyond the shelf.
I consulted my map and saw that it would only take three turns to reach the aisle behind this one. I hurried through, trying not to lose the strand of power, even when I had to go in the opposite direction before swinging back around. This time, when I followed the power, my hand landed on a scroll. I pulled it from the shelf, unrolled it, and confirmed it was the same scroll I had studied the day before.
My first experiment had been a success, but I needed to know if I could find other scrolls the same way. I pulled out a different scroll and focused on the magic. It didn’t take long to identify the power wrapped around the scroll, but this time there were two strands: a mellow hum and one with a reedy timbre. I touched the next scroll over. Again, I heard two distinct threads of power twining together. The same on the one after that. Unrolling all three, I confirmed that each had been signed by two different parties in addition to the Truthholder duke who had witnessed the contracts. Two signatories, two strands of power.
Well, that explained the myriad of timbres I heard, but there were also different tempos and beats, everything echoing through my mind at the same pitch. If one person signed two contracts, would the rhythm differ?
I stepped away from the shelf, trying to get as much distance from the scrolls as I could in the narrow passageway. With my eyes closed, I sifted through the strands of power once more. I let more power wash over me this time, controlling the flow less. Several times I had to stop, blinking away the disorientation as too many wisps of power blended together. Eventually, I heard what I was looking for. Two strands of power with the exact same timbre. But though they shared a metallic tone, they pulsed at different tempos.
I followed the first, with a sort of da-da-dah beat that made me think of a truth spoken out of desperation. I had to consult my map over and over, but eventually I found the scroll tied to that strand ofpower. Next, I followed the strand with a quick beat that reminded me of a truth that hid a minor indiscretion that had quickly turned to regret. I wondered if I’d hear the same beat on the contract Felix had signed bringing me to Rose Castle.
It took longer to get to this one, the path taking me deeper into the labyrinth, but finally, I held both scrolls in my hands. I unrolled the first and studied the signatures. I unrolled the second, and there it was. Michel Rasbemon had signed both. The second party in each contract was a different person, and though the witness had been the same, I felt confident declaring that what I heard as the timbre of the magic imbued in each scroll corresponded to the person signing.
All I needed was a single Truth scroll, time, and a lot of patience, and I could track down any other truth scroll written by the same person. Assuming the Truth scrolls worked the same way.
I moved through the aisles of the archives, paying just enough attention that I could find my place on the map, and mulled it over. My hands trailed over the scrolls at hip height as I went. My magic manifested as sounds, but I had found that touch increased my sensitivity, as if it allowed the vibrations direct access to my magical ear. I listened to the power as I walked, even though I wasn’t truly concentrating on the magic anymore.
My thoughts were occupied calculating the odds that Truth scrolls treated the signature the same way other scrolls treated the witness’s signature—a means to imbue the node’s power, and nothing more. The heir’s contract had a distinct strand of power, but that was also a regular contract, though one signed by only one person. Would a Truth, imposing the node’s power on the environment and not the signatory, work the same?
I stopped, something nagging at my mind, an unrecognized thought demanding attention. I brushed my hand back and forth, trying to tease out the thought. Then my hand drifted back farther,hitting the same scroll it had been on when that thought first appeared. I closed my eyes to concentrate more easily on what the magic was telling me.
There was only one strand of power in the scroll, a note of crystalline purity that sounded like the node—except this bit of power pulsed at a quick tempo rather than continuing in an eternal, steady hum.
I snatched up the scroll and unrolled it. A quick read told me I had found a Truth. It hadn’t been written by the first duke, however. The lone signature at the bottom read Sebastien, Second Duke of Truthhold.
I stared at the scroll, wondering if it was better or worse that I had found a Truth written by someone other than Duke Valois.
The sound of footsteps on stone carried over the shelves, and the scroll snapped shut as one hand rose to my mouth, muffling my gasp. I had taken too long. Marc was back.
With the Truth scroll held tightly in my grasp, I considered my options. Should I walk out of the archives and try to explain away my presence? Or I could refuse to tell Marc why I had gone hunting through the shelves on my own. Did it even matter? I hadn’t wanted him to observe me as I worked, but my presence in the archives didn’t need to be a secret.
Before I could decide, a sickening sense of the world dissolving washed over me. Except it wasn’t the world dissolving, but me. Though dissolved, my stomach still existed, and it wasn’t pleased with this development.
Then everything snapped back together.
I was in Felix’s office, the duke sitting on the table in front of me, his ears pricked forward.
“You only asked for an hour. What was taking so long?”
Twenty-One
Felix
???
Isa wobbled, andI remembered the disorientation of being summoned through the castle. Perhaps I should have given her a chance to sit before asking questions. But I had kept Marc out of the archives for well over an hour, and she still had shown no signs of exiting on her own. I couldn’t have kept the secretary busy any longer without arousing suspicion.
I wanted to know if that meant she had found something. I wanted to know if the scroll held in her white-knuckled grip was the answer I needed.
With a swipe of a claw, I called in a mug of tea, making it appear at the edge of my desk, near the chair. “Sit, Isa. Have some tea.”
She sat, her eyes still glassy, but as she stared at the steam rising from the mug, she seemed to come back to herself. “Oh, no. The summoning spell didn’t leave my stomach behind, so I don’t think tea is a good idea.”
Maybe she wasn’t completely back yet. “Wouldn’t it be worse to drink tea without a stomach?”
“Given how I feel right now, I can’t imagine not having a stomach could make anything worse. Why didn’t you tell me how horrible being summoned is?”
“I found it a tad disorienting, but that was all. A moment of dizziness, then everything settled.”
