“Are you dying?” He prodded Luc’s arm. “Or just being dramatic? It’d be nice if you’d let me know, so I can—”
He cut short as Luc lurched away from the mantel and collapsed into the chair. His head lolled to one side, his eyes shut.
“Secret,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Secret.”Luc pointed a shaking finger at the chest.
Rolan scrambled to it and picked the lock. It took less time now that he’d worked out its mechanism, but still it seemed like ages before the latch finally gave. He scooped up a handful of the pieces inside and rushed them to Luc.
The Arcanist opened one eye and wearily lifted a single piece from Rolan’s outstretched hands—a curving talon. Its blue mist leaked through his fingers as he set it on the arm of the chair.
Then he pulled a dagger from his belt and drove the point of the blade into the talon, breaking it into bits.
Rolan gasped as blue light poured from the shattered talon andtwisted up the dagger’s length. The light seemed to sink into the metal, infusing it, swirling in the double spiral etched near the hilt. The pieces of the talon thenmelted, fading into nothing. A faint smell was left in the air, like rotten eggs and curdled flesh. It turned Rolan’s stomach.
Luc breathed in deeply, his great chest swelling and swelling until Rolan feared the man would burst, or die, or both.
But then the Arcanist’s eyes opened, and he sat up.
“Better,” he grunted.
He took the rest of the glowing pieces from Rolan’s hand and tossed them back into the chest, then kicked the lid shut.
“I guess there’s no use locking it,” he said, glaring at Rolan.
“Excuse me!” Rolan retorted. “I believe my lock picking skills just saved your life!”
“No.” Luc began unbuckling weapons and belts and satchels, hanging them from pegs by the door along with his cloak, which had a fresh new tear down the back. “You just saved me taking a few steps across the room.”
“You weredying!”
“I was only tired.” He paused, then added, “Very tired.”
Rolan crossed his arms. “And now?”
“I’m better.”
“How? Why? What was that just now? That light, and the way the talon disappeared—it was magic, wasn’t it?”
“It was a secret.”
“A secret!” The words burst from Rolan’s lips like a stone from a sling. “I’m sick of secrets! Why won’t you tell me what you do out there, in the dark? Why won’t you tell me about the things in thatchest? Shouldn’t I know this stuff? Ain’t I your apprentice?”
“Aren’tI,” said Luc. “And are you? Or are you running away in the morning?”
“I…” Rolan clacked his teeth shut, blinking.
Luc shrugged off his jerkin and belt, then sprawled on his massive bed. “I’m going to sleep. You should too. You’ve got a long way to go tomorrow, if you’re making it to Crisanth.”
“Did you fight a Cryptic tonight?” pressed Rolan.
Luc dragged a pillow over his face. “Yes.”
“Did you win?”
Wordlessly, Luc swept his hand wide, as if to indicate the obvious: he was alive.
