“I won’t,” he said. He glanced back at the druid behind Zesh, whose eyes were now fixed on Alwyn. He wondered how true it was—he didn’t feel any magic coming from the druid, but hetried to keep his own magic as suppressed as possible without being distracted. “Ask me anything.”
“How many elves are in Drol Kuggradh now?” Zesh asked. He was setting slices of cured meats and cheeses on a plate with his one hand as he spoke, as if they were discussing something utterly mundane.
Alwyn considered for a moment. “I only stopped in Drol Kuggradh briefly, so I’m not sure. But from what I saw between the remaining military presence and the civilians, I’d guess somewhere around two hundred.”
Zesh took a bite of a sausage, chewing and swallowing, before speaking again. “Yarug spotted two spies approaching the last camp I was at—an elf and an orc. Do you know who they were?”
Alwyn blinked. An elf and an orc? Tessarion only told him what he needed to know for his own missions, but the thought of another elf and orc pair being assigned to watch Zesh was a surprise. “I don’t know. But there are factions of the library trained as spies, and I would assume there are similar groups of orcs working together.”
“Is that what you are?” Zesh asked, glancing up at him. “A spy?”
Alwyn’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t a spy, so to tell him so was not a lie. His training had always been how to kill efficiently—anything else was only in service of that. “No. My training has been in combat.”
Zesh scoffed. “Forgive me, but you don’t look like much of a warrior.”
“I use magic to fight,” Alwyn retorted, and this time Zesh chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
“Is that so? Show me, then,” he said.
Alwyn froze. This was a trap. He hesitated, then said in a softer tone, “If I did that, your druid and your guards would kill me.”
A wicked gleam flashed in Zesh’s eye as he smirked down at Alwyn. That, too, had been a test—Zesh was playing with him now. “Smart. What else did you do in the Library?”
“Studying, mostly. All elves trained in the Library are educated in language, history, and mathematics. The training in magic is secondary until near adulthood. Then students are split based on their aptitude for certain types of magic. They might become researchers, or might be trained in combat, as I was.”
None of this was exactly classified information, and Alwyn wondered how much of it was still a test. Was Zesh just judging what he would say about his personal history before asking after what he really wanted out of him? The warlord asked him a few more questions about the Library and Aefraya, but eventually fell silent, looking down pensively as he continued to eat. Alwyn watched him uncertainly, his eyes darting between the warlord and the druid.
“It sounds like you know little that would be of use to me,” Zesh finally said, and Alwyn’s heart sank. If Zesh really believed that, he didn’t want to think about what might happen. “How were you hoping you could help me when you came here?”
Alwyn forced his breathing to slow, ignoring the nervous pace of his heartbeat. “I have learned powerful magic in my time at the Library,” he said. “I can share that with you.”
“Not many orcs have magic, so your offer might have been nearly useless,” Zesh chuckled, leaning back to regard him. “You’re lucky. With Yarug around, you might actually have some value.”
Alwyn managed a nervous smile. “Sounds like that worked out in my favor, then.”
Zesh had a small, mirthless smirk on his face as he stood. “I’ll arrange for you and Yarug to meet privately tomorrow, and you can share your magic with him.” Alwyn nodded, though the prospect of being alone with the druid sent a spike of anxietyracing through his chest all over again. “I’m done with you for now.”
He snapped once as he said it, and instantly one of the guards stepped toward Alwyn, pulling him to his feet.
“All right, all right,” Alwyn muttered, stumbling as the orc pushed him forward. “I can walk on my own, you know.”
There was no response, of course, though he thought he heard Zesh chuckling mirthlessly behind him as he was hauled out of the tent and back out into the cold morning air.
Krujha slipped into his tent that night, carrying a small cotton sack in one hand. Alwyn opened it to find a bar of soap, a hairbrush, some clean rags, and his book.
“Thank you,” he said, low and embarrassed, shoving the bundle under his pillow and trying not to think of what Krujha must have thought of the silly adventure novel amidst his other things. Krujha’s expression was soft as they sat down, him in the single chair and Alwyn perched on the edge of the mattress.
“You’re welcome,” Krujha replied. They spoke in whispers, but Alwyn could still feel the low rumble of his voice, like faraway thunder. “Any news from your end?”
“I’m more curious what you and Zesh talked about after I left,” Alwyn said, and Krujha shrugged.
“He asked about what duties I’ve been assigned, and if I have any other useful skills,” he said, then grinned. “I really played up my ability to peel potatoes, so I don’t think I’m at risk of being reassigned any time soon.”
“Good,” Alwyn sighed, leaning back on the bed. “As for me—the druid kept me waiting until Zesh came back, and he asked me questions about Aefraya and the elves in Drol Kuggradh.”
“What did you tell him?” Krujha asked, frowning. Alwyn shrugged.
“I didn’t know much about what he wanted, so I told him the truth,” he said. “Then he asked more about me, and what I could give that would help him, so I offered to teach the druid some of the magic I know.”
