“What assignment?” Hadrian asked.
“I need for you to fetch me a book. It’s a journal written by a former professor here at the university.”
“He means he wants us to steal a book.” Royce had picked up what looked to be a six-inch incisor from a bear and was rolling it between his hands.
“More like borrow without permission,” Arcadius expl-ained.
“Can’t you just ask, especially since you only want to borrow it?” Hadrian said.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. First, it would be heretical to read this book, and second, the owner doesn’t lend his things. In fact, the owner has lived his entire life sealed off from the entire world.”
“Who are we talking about here?”
“The head of the Nyphron Church, his supreme holiness, the Patriarch Nilnev.”
Hadrian laughed. “The Patriarch? The Patriarch?”
The old man didn’t look amused. “At last count there was still just the one.”
Hadrian continued to chuckle, shaking his head as he walked in a small circle, stepping carefully to avoid islands of books. “Honestly, did you really have to go that far?”
“How do you mean?”
“Couldn’t you have demanded we steal the moon away from the stars? Why not request I help abduct the daughter of the Lord God Maribor?”
“Maribor doesn’t have a daughter,” Arcadius replied without a hint of humor.
“Well, that explains it, then.”
Royce smiled. “I’m starting to like him.”
“And I don’t trust you,” Hadrian said.
Royce nodded approvingly. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say yet. You might be right, old man. I think I’ve already been a good influence on him.”
“This isn’t a joke, Hadrian,” Arcadius said, his tone leveling deeper than he had yet heard it. “Royce has been planning this job for months. He’s confident it can be done.”
“It can be, but by me alone. I hadn’t been counting on anyone else, and certainly not him,” Royce corrected.
“It has to be with Hadrian or not at all.”
“Well that cinches it, then. Not at all.”
“Fine. But then your debt to me remains unpaid. If you want to be rid of that obligation, this is my price. Complete it with my rules and conditions. That’s the deal.”
“What book are we talking about?” Hadrian asked.
“The journal of Edmund Hall.”
Somehow Hadrian expected he would have recognized the title. He should have known better. While his father had taught him to read, Hadrian didn’t know many books and certainly wouldn’t know a rare or important one from any other.
“What kind of book is it?”
“It’s the rarest kind. Not only is there only the one but also, as far as I can determine, just one person has ever read its contents.”
“Let me guess, the Patriarch?”
The old man nodded. “Legend claims that Edmund Hall found the ancient city of Percepliquis. After returning, he was immediately arrested. He, and his book, were sealed away in Ervanon and never seen again. As that was more than a hundred years ago, I think we must give up hope for Mr. Hall, but his book should still be there with the rest of the ancient treasures of Glenmorgan.”
“Why do you want it?”
“That is my affair.”
Hadrian thought to press the issue, but expected that would be fruitless. “And why do you need me? I don’t know the first thing about thieving.”
“Excellent point,” Royce said. “Exactly why do you want him to tag along?”
Arcadius turned his attention to the man with the hood. “Hadrian is an accomplished fighter, and I think your plan is vulnerable as long as you are relying so heavily on stealth. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be thanking me for forcing him to go with you.”
Royce eyed Hadrian with a skeptical expression. “He’ll never manage the climb.”
“Climb?” Hadrian asked.
“The treasure room is at the top of the Crown Tower,” Arcadius explained.
Even Hadrian had heard of that. Even farmers in Hintindar knew of the Crown Tower. Supposedly it was the leftover corner of some ancient but legendary castle.
“I’m in good shape. A few stairs aren’t going to kill me.”
“The tower is heavily guarded in every way, except against a person climbing up the outside,” Royce replied, his eyes fixed on the long fang he continued to twirl.
“Isn’t that because … well, I’ve heard it’s sort of tall.”
“The tallest surviving structure built by man,” Arcadius said.
“Should I bring a lunch?”
“Considering we’ll begin after dusk and climb all night, I’d suggest a late dinner,” Royce replied.
“I was joking.”
“I wasn’t. But I only ask one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When you fall to your death, do so quietly.”
“It will only take a day or two,” the professor assured him. “Ride up, fetch the book, and then you’re free to live your life knowing you’ve done everything your father asked. What do you say?”
“I’ll think about it.”
The rains of the last few days had given way to a perfect autumn sky. Clear blue, the likes of which were unable to survive the haze of summer and the kind Hadrian hadn’t seen in almost two years. In the jungles he rarely saw the sky or a horizon. When he did, it was masked in steam. This was the kind of day he would have spent working beside his father at the anvil, then sparring; finally, he would sneak away to the oak on the hill and daydream. He would peer into that endless blue and imagine himself as a noble knight returning from battle, victorious, of course, and Lord Baldwin of the manor would welcome him to his table. While modest, he would be coaxed into recounting his deeds of valor: how he slew the beast, saved the kingdom, and won the heart of the fair princess. He could see it all so clear, like a reflection on a still pond that was lost the moment he reached for it. The dream took a mortal blow the day of his first battle, the day he killed the bearded man. The first of many, but he still saw his face, still met him in nightmares. All the chickens in the world couldn’t prepare him for that. His idyllic vision of kingdom saving and knightly valor wasn’t so pretty after that. The sky stopped being blue, and he found a new color, a bright color, that splattered everything its ugly hue.
Now Hadrian was back under that blue autumn sky. The father who had forbidden him from striving for his dream was dead, but the professor was right-he had no idea what to do anymore. Once, he thought he knew. It had been as clear as the sky and as simple as a boy’s dream.
Not a dream … a promise.
It did feel that way. But how important was it to keep a promise to a child, especially when that child had died years ago in a faraway land?
Hadrian wandered to the stable, looking for Pickles. He hadn’t been in the dorm when Hadrian returned, nor was he in the dining hall. The only place left to look was the stable. Entering, he found Dancer neatly brushed, watered, and fed. Even her shoes and legs were cleaned of the mud from the day before, but still no sign of Pickles.
“I thought I might find you out here,” Arcadius said with a hand up to block the glare of the sun until he entered the barn.
“Don’t you ever teach?”
“Always.” He grinned. “And I’ve just completed my lecture on advanced alchemy, thank you. Now I hoped to discover how you were doing.”
“Translated that means if I will accept my father’s last will and testament?”
“Something like that.”
“Who is this Royce…”