Strength of Fate - 16. Chapter Sixteen

Days passed uncounted while Nathan’s leg healed. The ointment worked wonders, effectively treating the burns and promoting new skin growth. By the time Nathan could walk normally again, his mind nagged him they should return to Rabiah, but he didn’t want their furlough to end. His arm—in pain more often than not—did little to ruin his mood. There was no point in worrying about his inevitable end, and he refused to let it hinder his time with Brohm. The big man didn’t appear to care about their mission, either. If he did, he wasn’t vocal about it. Perhaps he didn’t want their vacation to end as well.

Nathan’s musings were interrupted by the sound of marching feet on the cobblestones outside. A powerful voice—orders being called out—echoed across the buildings on the street. Nathan and Brohm exchanged glances and jumped out of bed, opening the glass doors to the balcony. A mass of armoured troops stomped past the hotel, heading down an eastward street, forcing the citizens to move aside.

“What you reckon?” Brohm asked.

Nathan shook his head in reply. “It looks serious.”

“For a second, I thought they were coming for us.”

“That was our old life,” Nathan said, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Brohm nodded, watching the contingent worm its way along the eastern street. A figure, fighting to pass by, emerged from that direction, rushing toward the hotel.

“Isn’t that Cormac?” Brohm asked.

Nathan shielded his eyes from the sun. “Yeah, it is.”

He waved a hand, calling out to the old man. At first, Cormac couldn’t discern the direction of the voice calling his name, but then glanced up to see them flagging him down. He waved back, gesturing for them to meet him. They signalled their understanding and headed back inside.

“He looked serious, too,” Brohm contemplated aloud.

They hastily donned their clothes, headed downstairs, rushed past the front desk, and burst out the front doors, frightening the porter in the process. Cormac stood nearby, out of breath.

“What’s going on?” Nathan asked.

Cormac led them down the narrow alley between the Amberley and building next door. It was clear he didn’t want anyone on the street to hear what he had to say.

“Iratxos,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What? Where?” Brohm asked.

Cormac thumbed back the way he’d come. “Near where I was working in the northeast quarter. I tell you, boys, ’twas nothing like the few you fought at Millsfield. They just kept coming.”

Brohm cursed under his breath while Nathan held a hand to his mouth in astonishment.

Cormac continued. “Between the city watch and soldiers on duty, I’m sure they can deal with it. But I saw a number of injured people on my way to find you. ’Tis madness. Where’s that daemon?”

“It’s hiding north of the city in the mountains,” Nathan said. “But we haven’t been here that long. I just assumed we’d have more time.”

“Clearly not,” Cormac said. “Have you made any progress? Did you find that woman, Rabiah?”

Nathan nodded. “She’s willing to help us. We got some weird crystals. Cormac, you wouldn’t believe where we went—”

“He got hurt,” Brohm said, pointing to Nathan, “so there was down time while he got better.”

“I’m fine,” Nathan replied, waving a hand to assuage Cormac’s concern, then looked to Brohm. “But this is a wakeup call for us. We gotta get back to Rabiah.”

Cormac nodded resolutely. “Very well. You do that, and I’ll return to aid anyone who needs it.” He turned to leave, but stopped short when Brohm called his name.

The big man took a moment to find the words he was looking for. “I just wanna say I’m sorry for hurting you, not trusting you.”

Nathan stood dumbstruck to hear such a statement from Brohm. The monk approached Brohm and took his hand into his.

“You are a protective soul with many secrets, and I intruded upon that. I pushed you in my own way, and you quite literally pushed back, but I’m glad we’ve come to understand each other.”

Brohm looked down at Cormac’s hand, small and delicate compared to his.

“Your apology is accepted,” Cormac continued with a smile. “Boys, much is riding on your shoulders now. Be strong, and be careful.”

“You too,” Brohm replied. “Thanks for coming to tell us.”

They watched the monk wind his way back east through the busy street. Despite the fact they had no idea the iratxos would appear so soon after Theodrik’s arrival, Nathan couldn’t help but feel guilty. They could’ve been working toward the solution, yet instead spent it relaxing in bed.

“Come on,” he said, taking Brohm’s arm. “Let’s go.”

They merged into the stream of people on the street, heading toward the university. Fortunately, the heat and humidity remained absent after the storm so many days ago. Blue skies and a pleasant breeze made the walk comfortable.

“I’m proud of you,” Nathan said, nudging Brohm’s arm playfully.

“Why?”

“What you said to Cormac. That’s not the Brohm I know, but it means a lot to hear.”

The big man scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous laugh. “Reckon I owe you a sorry, too. For not believing you.”

“We’ve already talked about this. You were trying to keep us safe. If I can’t provide proof when I tell you something, that’s my fault, not yours.”

Brohm seemed unconvinced, but said nothing in reply. They reached Rabiah’s office, finding her door closed as usual, and Brohm gave it a knock.

“What! I’m busy,” Rabiah barked, the usual edge of annoyance colouring her voice.

“It’s us,” Brohm replied.

Not a moment passed before the door was unlocked and opened. Rabiah stood before them, appearing wholly unimpressed. Each word she spoke was measured and emphasized, as though speaking down to a child.

“Where have you been?”

Before they could reply, she continued. “I said come back in two days, not . . . how long has it even been?”

Nathan and Brohm bashfully shared sidelong glances. Neither could provide an accurate answer. She waved them in with a scowl. They did so, and Nathan knew enough to slide the bar back to lock the door.

“Did you hear the news?” Brohm asked.

She stared at him, bewildered. “The news? What news?”

“A bunch of iratxos attacked the city. There was military on the streets.”

Rabiah fell to joyless laughter. “Gods, what a fucking mess you’ve brought.”

“We didn’t mean for this to happen!” Brohm yelled.

Nathan held him back and nudged him back a step. “Please tell me we’ve got enough of those crystals.”

“Yes, yes. It’s been ground to dust. While I still need the book to know the symbols to draw with it, I feel confident we have enough.”

“So that’s our next obstacle,” Nathan said. “Getting the key from Edouard and finding the book without his knowledge.”

Rabiah sat at her desk and glared at him. “You seemed quite self-assured that it’d be no problem. Having second thoughts?”

“No,” he replied coolly, fighting the urge to prove himself. “I just need you to point him out, preferably outside where he won’t notice us. I’ll take it from there.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a sly smile. “And I can’t talk you into what we discussed earlier? Getting rid of him for the greater good?” It was clear from the intonation her intent was contrary to good intentions.

Nathan scowled at her. “If you want him dead, you’re asking the wrong person.”

Rabiah’s eyes flicked toward Brohm, who stood in the gloom. “How about you? You seemed . . . more agreeable last time.”

Brohm stood mute—stone still. Nathan followed suit, staring her down, confident in the fact Brohm would have his back on this.

Rabiah snickered playfully, trying to ease the tension. “You guys are adorable, and I can’t fault the loyalty between you two. I’ll admit, I’m a bit jealous.” She stood and headed for the door. “Follow me, if you will. I’ll point out that prick, Edouard, and leave you to it.”

She gathered a few belongings, then led them back to the concourse and out the front doors. They approached a bench amid the grass and trees, far enough from the main path to not be noticed, yet close enough to recognize someone’s face. Rabiah managed to wiggle her way between them, mock yawning and wrapping an arm around each of them.

“The library closes early, because, of course it does,” she said. “He should be leaving soon enough.”

Nathan nodded in reply, watching people walk by. The breeze picked up again. The giant fronds made a distinct scraping sound instead of the more typical rustling one would expect. Light and shadow manifested as a hypnotic dance on the grass.

“I was wondering,” Nathan said. “Given the name of the university—Oaksgate—I assumed there’d be oaks here. I’ve not seen this species of tree before.”

Rabiah glanced up at the fronds. “I think there was some kind of infestation a long time ago. The diseased oaks were cut down and replaced by these. I’m no expert, so I couldn’t tell you what kind they are.”

Nathan nodded, and they fell to silence again, watching the exit of the university. After a short while, Rabiah began to tap her foot. It started gradually, without any rhythm, but then gained tempo to an impatient beat.

“Okay, now it’s my turn to ask a question,” she blurted out. “What’s the deal with you two? It feels like you’ve got such a story to tell. Like you’re wearing a mask.”

Nathan scoffed at her word choice. “You’re not wrong, but it’s private.”

“Damn it— Oh, there’s our man.” She surreptitiously scratched her forehead in an attempt to hide her face and point at the same time. “Blue jerkin, black trousers.”

Edouard’s royal blue jerkin stood out like a torch amid the crowd. He was all smiles, waving at passersby, who waved happily in return.

“People seem to like him, yuh?” Brohm said. “You sure he’s a jerk?”

“He is,” she hissed. “Trust me.”

“We’ll follow him, find out where he lives, and then return to his place late tonight,” Nathan said. “Where should we meet you once I have the key?”

“Same as before,” she said, pointing at the bench along the path leading to the university entrance.

By this point, Edouard had nearly reached the street, and Nathan didn’t want to lose him, despite the ease his vivid jerkin brought.

“Okay. Regardless of what happens, we’ll come by so you’re not waiting out here all night,” Nathan said.

Rabiah twisted her face into a smirk. “I appreciate that.”

They left her behind, closing the space between them and Edouard to a reasonable distance. The streets were still busy, so it was safe enough to get close without drawing attention to themselves. Edouard led them north for a time, toward the market district, before ducking down a side street. Nathan rushed forward with Brohm in tow, slowing down to a regular walk once he reached the corner. They caught sight of their quarry heading into a small tavern.

“You want to loiter here or head in for a drink?” Nathan asked with a wink.

Brohm smacked his lips. “Dumb question.”

He took the lead and entered the establishment. The tavern made no attempt at elegance. It was dark, dingy, and filthy. A small stage took up the far side of the room, but appeared disused, as though the patrons didn’t care what the proprietor had planned for the space. Edouard sat at the empty bar, enjoying the first sip of his drink. A few small groups took up residence at tables. The tavern was quiet now, but Nathan could tell when a place attracted rowdy folk. This was one of them.

Nathan nodded to the barkeep, signalled for two drinks, then nudged Brohm toward a dark nook. They sat at an empty table, sitting side by side to keep an eye on their mark. The old wooden chairs were sticky in places.

“This is my kinda place,” Brohm mumbled. “Not trying to impress anyone, y’know? Just somewhere to get nice ’n drunk.”

Nathan snickered. “You’re welcome to stay. Following our guy home shouldn’t be too difficult. I could come get you afterward.”

Before Brohm could consider it, two tankards were planted roughly on the table. The ale sloshed, causing foam to spill over.

“Two coppers apiece,” the barkeep said.

Brohm poked into his coinpurse to pay the man, offering a generous tip. The barkeep smiled, revealing a few missing teeth.

“Thankya kindly.”

He returned to the bar and resumed a conversation with Edouard. Nathan couldn’t catch any words, but judging by their tone and bouts of laughter, it was lighthearted.

The ale was cold and surprisingly good. Definitely not watered down. Brohm grunted his approval.

“Reckon I’ll stay for more drinks,” he said. “That okay?”

“Sure. Following him will be easier if it’s just me, anyway. Your height makes it harder to stay unnoticed.”

Brohm wore his crooked smile. “Yuh, I’m no sneaky type, but you already knew that,” he said before taking another draught.

A patron entered, recognizing Edouard and giving him a hearty slap on the back. The jostle caused his shirt collar to shift, revealing a leather cord around his neck. Nathan pondered if the key they needed hung off it. The new arrival sat at the bar beside Edouard, joining the conversation.

Brohm shook his head with a smirk. “Dunno what Rabiah was talking about. When she mentioned this Edouard, I reckoned he was some grumpy old guy. That’s not what I’m seeing here. Everyone seems to love him.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Nathan said.

Brohm glanced over, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Nathan took a sip of his drink before continuing. “In our dealings with Rabiah, how would you describe her?”

“Um . . .”

“Think of our first meeting,” Nathan said in an attempt to coax an answer.

Brohm chuckled to himself. “Kind of a bitch, I reckon.”

“Right,” Nathan said. “Irritable and self-absorbed. Remember Lorne said she didn’t suffer fools? I think he was just trying to be polite.”

“So what’s that gotta do with him?” Brohm asked, subtly nodding toward Edouard.

“I think Edouard’s absolutely right not to give her access to the books she wants. Even now, I question her motives in helping us.”

Brohm sat up in his chair. “Reckon she’ll double-cross us somehow?”

“If the situation were different, yeah, I do.” Nathan let out a sigh. “But she regards Theodrik with such awe, and it just wants to return home. I can’t see her trying to double-cross a daemon. Anyone would be an idiot to try.”

“Helmsley took advantage of it to capture you.”

“Yeah, and he’s dead now. That’s my point.”

Light dawned on Brohm’s face as he drained his tankard. They sat in silence, watching Edouard and his friends chat and share laughs. Nathan was paying closer attention to Edouard’s drink, however, and how far back he tilted the mug when he drank. Either he’d order another or head out soon after.

“You’re still scratching your arm.”

Brohm’s words broke his concentration. Nathan found he was indeed rubbing at his old wound, and silently reprimanded himself.

“It’s nothing,” he replied flatly.

“You sure?” Brohm asked, a hint of worry straining his voice. “I noticed your arm is looking kinda funny. Like it’s getting worse or something, yuh?”

Edouard stood up to a chorus of disappointed groans. “Sorry, guys. I gotta get home,” he said. “Until next time.”

They bid their farewells, and the librarian walked out. Nathan nudged his nearly full tankard toward Brohm.

“You can finish this. I’ll meet you here?”

Judging by Brohm’s expression, he wasn’t convinced Nathan’s arm was fine, but he knew they’d run out of time, so he nodded sombrely. Nathan felt crushed dismissing Brohm’s concern, but he couldn’t let that stand in his way now. Without drawing attention, he headed toward the door as quickly as he dared.

Outside, he swung his head in both directions, catching the edge of the blue jerkin turning a corner. Edouard continued north along the market street. It was narrower than before, and tall buildings—none standing completely straight—loomed overhead. Another detail that caught Nathan’s eye was the excessive number of city watchmen patrolling the streets.

After a short walk, the way opened up to a market square. Countless vendors stood at their stalls, all trumpeting their goods in a deafening cacophony. They offered an impressive variety of fruits and vegetables, breads, spices, and meats. Crowds shuffled for space, and Nathan had to push his way through while keeping an eye on his target.

Edouard completed his purchases and headed for an exit to the east. Nathan continued his dance through the dense throng and managed to keep pace, grateful to keep an eye on his prey. After passing another patrol, Edouard led him into a dense residential area of multi-storey wooden buildings. The streets narrowed the deeper they went, to the point where only foot traffic was possible. Passersby were few, and the fading din of the city was overtaken by Edouard’s sharp footfalls on the cobblestone. Nathan held a good distance and stepped as discreetly as he could, but was beginning to feel uncomfortably exposed.

As Edouard rounded a corner, he pulled a key from his pocket. Without a sound, Nathan rushed to the corner and peeked an eye along the edge, catching the librarian unlocking a door and entering. Letting out a sigh of relief, he considered his surroundings. The area was bereft of memorable features, and while he held confidence in retracing his steps back to the market square, returning at night could be a near-impossible task.

He approached Edouard’s door. The lock was a simple design and no match for Nathan’s picking skill. He glanced back the way he’d come, noticing a lantern hanging at the intersection. It was the first time he’d noticed one. Stepping that way and looking around the corner revealed another lantern farther down the narrow street. Whether they were the responsibility of the homeowners or someone was employed to light them, he hoped they would be lit this night.

Picking up a stone, he scratched a mark into the wooden building at the intersection. While appearing innocuous to anyone who might notice it, for him, it was an obvious beacon to lead him to his destination.

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

While tracking his way back to the market square, Nathan left more inconspicuous guidemarks. He realized the way to Edouard’s home wasn’t labyrinthine at all, but having the markings to fall back on brought reassurance. The square ahead remained just as busy, so he veered onto a side street to bypass the crowds. A small company of armed troops passed him as he headed south. He could only assume the higher state of readiness within the city was due to the iratxo attack earlier that day.

Even before entering the tavern, it was obvious by the noise many more patrons were enjoying their drink. Nathan found Brohm sitting at the same table, now covered with empty tankards. The mob of thirsty customers had all fallen to rowdy song, with Brohm joining in. Nathan didn’t recognize the melody or the lyrics, but before he could catch the song’s plot, it ended with a long, warbling, out-of-tune crescendo. The crowd burst to raucous laughter and clapping.

Brohm leaned over to Nathan. “I like this place.” His words slurred together.

The tavern was rougher than Nathan preferred, but he kept that to himself. If Brohm was having fun, that was fine by him. Instead of trying to yell a reply, he gave him a smile and a wink. Brohm waved a hand at the barkeep, catching his attention, and signalled for more drink. In little time, a waitress arrived with two more tankards. Brohm paid her along with a tip, and then she began to clear the table.

“No, no,” Brohm said. “Keep ’em here. I like to keep count.”

“Suit yourself, honey,” she said with a shrug, returning to the bar.

Brohm handed Nathan one of the mugs, clanged it, and partook in a healthy draught. Seeing a challenge, Nathan followed suit, much to Brohm’s delight. The big man let out a belly laugh, followed by a meaty belch.

“S’cuse me,” he mumbled with an embarrassed chuckle.

“I don’t think you need to be polite here,” Nathan said.

“Suppose so. Reckon I’m just gettin’ used to all th’ fancy places we’ve been.”

“Feeling a little out of your element?”

Brohm shrugged. “Reckon so. Never been able to afford places like that. I like ’em, but the folk can be so snobby.” He leaned over, nudging his weight against him. “It’s fun with you, though.”

Nathan wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Anything’s more fun with you, too.”

Brohm beamed a toothy smile, then pulled him close, accidentally smacking their heads in the process.

“I love you,” he drawled.

They laughed and took another draught of their ale.

“We need to get more booze into you,” Brohm said.

“Maybe another time,” Nathan replied. “I need to stay clearheaded for tonight.”

Brohm’s eyes widened, giving him a knowing look. “Right. You follow him all sneaky-like?”

“Yeah. Admittedly, I’d prefer to reconnoitre the place, but time is short.”

“Reckon if we can’t fill ya with ale, I could fill ya with somethin’ else,” Brohm said with a lewd grin, groping his crotch. “We got time for that, yuh?”

“Well, well, boys,” said a voice behind them. “Looks like we got some damn fairies in our midst.”

Nathan glanced back to find a group of men at the next table watching them. The troublemaker voicing his hate stood out, however, making no attempt to hide the disgust on his face. Brohm placed his tankard on the table and followed Nathan’s gaze, turning sideways in his chair to stare him down.

“What’d you say?”

The man pointed a judging finger. “I heard you. You were talkin’ about fuckin’ him. You’re fuckin’ fairies.”

One of his friends kicked the man under the table to get him to shut up. Brohm stood and punted his chair out of his way, causing it to clatter against the wall. Anyone not aware of the situation suddenly fell silent—all eyes were on him. Brohm took two heavy steps toward the man and loomed over him.

“Do I look like a gods damned fairy? Where’s my wings?” Brohm asked, his drunken slur now absent, as though his temper had sobered him up.

Nervous laughs emerged from the crowd. The accuser—failing to consider Brohm’s weight before opening his mouth—looked up regretfully.

“Sorry. My mistake.”

Brohm let out a mirthless chuckle. “You weren’t mistaken. I was talkin’ about fuckin’ him.” He pointed an accusing finger at the man. “Your mistake was calling us fairies.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” the barkeep called out. “Nobody in Etton cares who you fuck.”

An indistinct murmur of agreement rose from the crowd while Brohm considered the fearful man shrinking in his seat before him. Nathan smiled inwardly at the thought that while Brohm’s anger often caused problems, this time he was enjoying the show. The man appeared unarmed, as did his mates, who were all avoiding eye contact with Brohm.

“This guy does seem to care, and it’s none of his business—”

“I said I was sorry,” the man cried, holding up his hands in an attempt to placate himself. “I was just jokin’ around.”

“Leave ’im be,” one of his friends said. “He’s an idiot. Not worth your time.”

“And you’re chums with this idiot?” Brohm asked.

The friend shrugged in response. Brohm took a breath as he considered the man again.

Nathan stood up and took a few steps toward the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

Brohm made a fist and held it to the man’s face. “Your buddy’s right. You’re not worth my time. But damn, beatin’ the shit outta you would feel real good right now.”

The man scrunched up his face and shut his eyes.

“Pathetic,” Brohm mumbled before following Nathan out the door.

Evening was upon them as they headed back to the main thoroughfare. A lamplighter passed them by, kindling a nearby lantern on the side street they’d emerged from. Nathan placed hope they were beholden to the backstreets as well.

“Well, that ruined my buzz,” Brohm said.

Nathan chuckled. “That was just the right amount of angry.”

“You reckon? I really wanted to take him outside and give him a good beat down.”

“I have no doubt, but as we know, those fists can kill a man.”

Brohm rubbed his knuckles and gave him a knowing smile. “So, what now?”

Nathan glanced at the darkening sky. A few of the brightest stars winked back. “We wait until our librarian has gone to bed. Then break in, get the key.”

“You make it sound too easy. You’ve no idea what the key looks like or where it’ll be.”

“I saw a leather cord around his neck. I’m hoping the key’ll be attached to that. My only concern is whether he wears it to bed.”

“If he does, what’ll you do?”

Nathan presented a sly grin. “What I always do: improvise.”

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

The evening passed in an unhurried manner. Nathan and Brohm ate dinner at a nearby pub, then returned to the Amberley to while the time away, mostly by napping.

Nathan woke with a start. Brohm lay beside him, sleeping peacefully. The glass door to the balcony, left open, allowed a cool breeze to play at the curtains. The hum of the city had fallen silent. It was time.

He gently caressed Brohm’s face and pressed his lips to his forehead. “I’m heading out,” he whispered. “I’ll return once I have the key.”

The big man yawned and stretched. “But I wanna come with you.”

“This is work better done alone,” Nathan said, rising out of bed. “We know you’re not exactly stealthy.”

Brohm gave his crooked smile. “Yuh, I know that. I meant I’d keep watch outside.”

“Sure, if you want to. But fair warning, I saw a lot of city watch and some troops patrolling earlier today. No idea if they’ll be out now, but just act casual if we encounter them.”

Nathan donned his hooded cloak and strapped on his dagger. He had no plans to use it for its intended purpose, but it was an excellent tool of persuasion. Opening his rucksack, he hauled out clothing to gain access to a hidden pocket. He felt the familiar lump, and dug into a narrow fabric slit to extract a leather tool pouch.

“What’s that?” Brohm asked as he belted his scabbard.

Nathan opened the pouch and pulled out the tools. “My set of lockpicks.”

Brohm inspected them with a frown. “I’ve heard people talk about lockpicks, but never seen ’em before. Don’t get how you can unlock doors with those.”

Nathan smiled, sliding the tools back into the pouch and slipping it into a pocket. “It’s a skill like any other. You ready?”

Brohm donned his own cloak—something he rarely wore—and pulled up the hood.

“Yuh, let’s do this.”

Considering Brohm’s stature, had Nathan run into someone resembling him in a dark alley, he would’ve given them a wide berth. In this case, however, Nathan found him dangerously seductive.

They stole into the night, dodging pools of lamplight and sticking to the side streets. Judging by the moon, it was later than Nathan had planned to leave. He hoped Rabiah wouldn’t be too grumpy waiting on them. Ten minutes passed before they crossed paths with someone heading in the opposite direction. The person hunched their shoulders fearfully and stared at the cobblestones as they passed, trying their best to avoid eye contact. Nathan caught Brohm’s smirk of enjoyment, and he couldn’t deny savouring the power he felt being at his side.

They reached the street near the market square, then headed toward the residential area. To Nathan’s relief, the backstreet lamps were lit. The scratchmarks in the wood guided them deeper, soon bringing them to the intersection where Edouard’s home resided.

“This is it,” Nathan said, peering down each of the four deserted lanes. “Wait here.”

Brohm nodded, leaning back against the wall. Approaching Edouard’s door, Nathan pulled the pouch from his pocket and freed the tools. He silently slid the torsion wrench into the lock to apply gentle torque, followed by the pick, and then felt his way into the tumbler. Each pin set easily, and within a few breaths, the wrench turned with a satisfying click. He glanced back at Brohm, giving him a thumbs up before opening the door and slipping inside.

The room was nearly pitch black. Nathan stood still, listening for any source of noise or movement while he waited for his eyes to adapt. A sliver of lamplight from a nearby window gradually became discernible, pushing back the fog of darkness. What were at first indistinguishable shapes became a table with chairs, kitchen counters and cabinets. A stove hunkered in the corner, likely doubling as a source of heat during the winter months.

Scanning the walls, he found coats on hooks. He rummaged in their pockets, as well as checked the hooks in hopes he’d find the key hanging there. No such luck. He stepped forward carefully, each step testing the floorboards for troublesome squeaks. Beyond the common area, a tight staircase led to the second floor. A dim light, possibly an oil lantern set low, beckoned from the landing. Nathan knew if stairs were to squeak, stepping in the centre was the worst thing to do, so he climbed carefully by treading on the outer edges.

As Nathan suspected, an oil lamp sat atop a small table on the landing. He pulled open the table drawer, but it held nothing of value. Three doors, all closed, presented themselves. Perking his ears again, he listened for any movement or sound. There was something, possibly snoring, coming from one door, so he padded toward it. Resting an ear to the door, there was no doubt someone was snoring on the other side.

With a hand on the knob, he turned it gently. Suddenly, the door jerked open with a clunk as the latch bolt freed itself from the strike plate—caused by a misalignment when the door had been hung. Nathan flinched at the noise it caused, and held frozen with the knob still in hand. The rhythmic snoring remained unchanged.

The door opened silently. Dim lamplight behind him painted his shadow—a distorted streak of black—across the room. The bedroom was sparse and small, mostly taken up by a bed and a blanket-covered lump snoring on it. Opposite the door was a window, presenting a bland view of the neighbours’ pointed roofs and a slice of star-filled sky skimming the top. A side table holding an unlit lamp sat beside the bed. To the right was a wardrobe, and in the corner to his left sat a chair, clothing tossed carelessly on top.

Hoping for the best, he padded to the chair and felt blindly in the folds of clothing. His heart leaped with excitement. In one trouser pocket, he felt a leather thong. Following it with his fingers, he grasped a cold metal object. Pulling it free revealed a key emitting a dull blue light—certainly magicked. It was unlike any key he’d seen before. There was no bitting to set the pins, only a narrow metal shaft. Pocketing it, he carefully stepped back and closed the door, but didn’t shut it completely. Doing so would only result in unwanted noise.

Back on the street, Nathan found Brohm in the same position. The big man looked at him expectantly.

“Got it,” Nathan said.

Brohm smiled from under his hood and hooked an arm around Nathan’s shoulder, leading them out of the backstreets.

“That was quick. How’d you find it?”

“Pure luck,” Nathan replied with a chuckle.

While it took more time, staying off the main streets allowed them to reach the university without passing a soul. Swirling mist rose from the grounds, making it impossible to perceive anything, and forcing them to rely on the crunchy gravel path to guide them. Ahead, the green glow of Rabiah’s bauble, albeit heavily diffused in the haze, acted as a beacon.

“It’s about time,” Rabiah called out from the fog. “I trust you were successful?”

“Yes, I’ve got it,” Nathan replied, pulling the key from his pocket. Her unsettling smile caused him to stumble.

“Impressive work,” she cooed. “Come, follow me.”

As before, the door to the main entrance was held ajar, allowing them access. Upon reaching the concourse, she gestured for them to stand back as she spied around the corner. A cursory glance later, she motioned for them to approach and led them down the right corridor, an area they’d yet to explore. Instead of regularly spaced branches leading to separate wings, they found themselves walking the wide and gently curved hallway for long stretches with no doorways at all. Ahead, a tall archway to the right caught their attention, and Rabiah led them through. The ceiling rose out of sight, and the distinct odour of musty books tickled Nathan’s nose. Despite the small radius of light Rabiah’s bauble produced, he had no doubt this chamber contained many thousands—possibly over a hundred thousand—books.

Rabiah escorted them along the many columns of shelves, then veered down a narrow row. The myriad number of books on either side varied in size and shape, looking decidedly unorganized, however Nathan assumed they must be ordered in some fashion. A metallic glint of vertical green light reflected back at them. After a few more steps, thick metal bars—not unlike a gaol cell—came into view. They rose up, disappearing into the blackness. A gated door with a lock stopped them from gaining access to the bookshelves beyond.

“Give me the key,” Rabiah said, her whispering voice tarnished by a mix of impatience and excitement.

Nathan produced the key from his pocket and handed it over, its blue glow intermingling with her bauble. The smooth shaft of the key slipped into the narrow slit of the lock, and with a solid thud felt in their chests, the gate opened. Pulling the key free and swinging the gate wide, Rabiah rushed to the far end of the room, leaving Nathan and Brohm in the dark.

“Reckon she knows where the book is,” Brohm mused aloud.

“Actually, I don’t,” came Rabiah’s echoed voice. “But I know its title, and there’s an index that’ll lead me to it.”

They closed in on her position, finding her rifling through a massive series of cards.

“What’s it called?” Brohm asked.

She glanced up at him with a look of annoyance, but upon seeing his expression of genuine curiosity, her face softened. “It’s a dead language. I can read it better than I can speak it. Roughly translated, it’s called Methods of Daemon Summoning and Banishment.”

Nathan scoffed. “Straight to the point. A bit on the nose, maybe?”

She continued to thumb through the cards at a rapid pace. “It’s a manual, not a storybook.”

Nathan perused the tomes on the shelf nearby. The spines, worn with age, told a story of their own. He pondered how many people had handled them. Considering they were held behind a spelled lock, how dangerous were their contents? Did Edouard decide what constituted dangerous, or was it just understood these books were not meant to be read by common folk?

One spine called out to him. It appeared no different than the others, but he found his hand drawn to it, pulling it free. The purple cover and backing, illustrated with geometric shapes, yielded no clue what was held within. The thick pages were haphazardly aligned, as the binding had failed ages ago. With a finger, he traced one of the angular shapes on the cover. In its wake, the shape glowed a dim orange. Nathan’s bite wound suddenly flared up in pain, and he dropped the book, causing dust plumes to fly as it struck the floor.

“What are you doing?” Rabiah scolded, bolting toward him.

Nathan stammered when he replied. “I don’t know. The book—”

“Don’t touch anything,” she said, picking up the tome and returning it to the shelf. “There’s a reason these books are in here. Some are spelled. Opening one without understanding the consequences could be deadly.”

Nathan wore a pained smile. “Sorry.”

“Just . . . don’t do anything. Be like Brohm.”

Hearing his name, the big man approached and wrapped an arm across Nathan’s shoulder. “I’ll keep him still, yuh.”

Rabiah rolled her eyes and returned to her index cards. The flipping sound echoed up beyond the bookshelves. Nathan leaned his head against Brohm and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt remarkably tired, and assumed the nap they’d taken earlier was wearing off.

“Found it,” Rabiah announced, squinting at the location details written in small text. “L, 11A, B6.”

She repeated the code a few times before returning the card to the stack, then passed them by to the head of shelf columns. Brohm, holding Nathan’s hand, led him along to follow Rabiah. Nathan frowned, trying to understand the organizational system used by the library. It was then he noticed small plaques with letters at the head of each column, but beyond that—how the rows and individual books were organized—he couldn’t decipher.

Rabiah reached column L and scanned the tiny plaques until she reached her destination far down the row of shelves. She counted a series of books from the left and pulled the sixth one free, a massive leather-bound tome. Opening the front cover, she scanned the title. From Nathan’s vantage point, the ornate cursive text was illegible.

“This is it,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s finally in my hands.”

Nathan had no doubt they were making a grave mistake giving her access to this book, but he couldn’t worry about that now. They needed Theodrik gone, then they’d deal with her.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, leading them to the gated doorway.

They shuffled out of the narrow row of shelves and through the gate, closing it shut. Doing so prompted another deep thud.

“That’s it? You don’t need the key to lock it?” Nathan asked.

Brohm grabbed the metal bar, pushing and tugging on the door. It didn’t budge. Rabiah unwrapped the key’s leather thong from her hand and returned it to Nathan.

“You’ve surprised me tonight, Nathan,” she said. “Men often gloat about their abilities, but rarely follow through.”

“I’m not done yet. I still need to return the key and get out of there without Edouard knowing.”

“Yuh, but that’s easy. You know where it goes,” Brohm said.

Nathan gave Brohm’s belly a gentle slap. “Don’t jinx it.”

The three departed the university without any sign of the guard, and walked in silence down the gravel path toward the city street, escaping the foggy grounds. The entire time, Rabiah had her arms wrapped around the tome, holding it to her chest protectively.

“Shouldn’t you leave that in your office?” Nathan asked.

“No, I’m looking forward to some late-night reading before bed,” she replied with a sly grin. “Come by tomorrow—around noon, I’d say. That should give me enough time to learn the ritual and cross-reference star positions for the right time to proceed.”

Brohm scratched his head. “What do stars have to do with it?”

“It’s complicated, and too late to explain,” she said, walking east down the street. “Goodnight, boys.”

Nathan and Brohm pulled up their hoods and skulked north to the darker side streets. As dead as the city felt before, it resembled a tomb now. It baffled him that they hadn’t run into any city watch, but assumed they’d manage to unknowingly skirt around them. He hoped their good fortune would continue, yet knew luck remained impartial, and they could easily find themselves on the wrong side.

They reached Edouard’s home unseen, and Brohm took up his same position while Nathan snuck in. Once past the threshold and the front door closed, he padded his way across the common area and up the stairs. The oil lamp was still lit, and he contemplated how much more difficult his task would’ve been without it. Nodding his thanks at the lamp, he edged his way toward Edouard’s bedroom door, which was still slightly open where he’d left it. Nathan held still again, listening for snoring, but nothing could be heard. Waiting longer changed nothing.

With gritted teeth, he nudged the door open and stuck his head through the gap. Straining his ears, he could barely register the sound of slow and steady breathing. He nudged the door wider, just enough space to step toward the pile of clothing on the chair in the corner. Retrieving the key from his pocket, he reached for the trousers on the chair but struggled to find the pocket. Lifting the trousers to straighten them out caused a belt to fall to the floor, its metal buckle clanking sharply.

Grimacing, Nathan held still as stone. Edouard’s breathing remained steady, and he didn’t stir. Nathan let out a faint sigh of relief, and with the trousers in his hands, finally found the pocket. Once the key was returned, he set the trousers back on the chair and then stepped out of the room. With the doorknob in hand, he shut the door and turned the knob to silently set the latch bolt.

“Daddy?”

The voice of a little girl behind him caused him to tense up. Turning slightly, careful to keep his hooded face hidden, he reached for the oil lamp and doused it.

“Go back to bed,” he whispered softly in hopes she wouldn’t recognize his voice for not being her father.

“Tuck me in?” she asked.

Nathan’s mind reeled at a multitude of strategies to escape the situation.

“You’re already tucked in. You’re just dreaming,” he whispered.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again.

“You’re not daddy.” There was no fear in her voice, only confusion.

“This is just a dream. Go back to bed, and you’ll forget this even happened.”

Standing in the gloom, she stuck a thumb in her mouth as she mused over his deception. Without another word, she stumbled in the dark back to her room, and with a small grunt of effort, climbed into bed.

Nathan bounded down the stairs as silently as he could, crossed the common area to the front door, and escaped to the street. Brohm straightened upon seeing Nathan’s rushed demeanour.

“Everything okay? Reckon that took longer than it should’ve.”

Nathan fumbled as he pulled his leather pouch free, extracted the tools, and reset the door’s lock. Task complete, he rushed toward Brohm, grabbed him by the arm, and led him to the refuge of the dark backstreet.

“That was too close,” he said in a fit of nervous laughter.

Brohm grinned in reaction. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything when we get back to the hotel,” he replied, pulling on Brohm’s arm again to hurry. “Let’s go!”