“Most Cryptics will have more legs than you,” Luc said. “And more teeth. And more everything.”
He snapped a whip, and Rolan reacted too slow, swinging his sword and missing. The whip nearly sliced his cheek, but Luc’s aim was always careful, and it missed Rolan by a hair. He was quicker to respond to Luc’s next whip, twisting his sword and blocking the lash. It wrapped around the blade and pulled taut. Luc yanked, jerking Rolan off balance, and swung his other whip. It twisted around Rolan’s leg and he fell with a shout.
“Ow!”
“Never compromise your weapon if you can help it,” Luc said.
Pushing himself up, Rolan wished they were practicing with daggers, which he was good at, or the bow, which he was terrible at, but at leastitdidn’t land him in the dirt.
“Time for a spelling test,” said Luc.
Nodding grimly, Rolan braced his feet on the ground and steadied his sword in his hands.
“Parry,”Luc barked.
With a grunt, Rolan whipped his sword up, knocking aside the stone Luc suddenly hurled his way. Then dutifully he recited,“P-A-R-R-Y.”
“Dodge!”
Rolan rolled, narrowly avoiding the next stone.“D-O-D-J-E.”
“D-O-D-G-E,”Luc corrected.“Strike!”
Rolan bolted forward, closing the distance between them in seconds. He brought his sword up and planted the tip against Luc’s broad chest.“S-T-R…”He paused.“… I-K-E.”
Luc grinned. “Very good.”
Stepping back, Rolan couldn’t help but return the smile. Hefeltgood. Better than he ever had in his life. Nearly two months of steady meals, a warm place to sleep, and enough exercise to exhaust him by dinner, and he was practically a new person.
Only three dark spots remained in his life.
The first was that he still hadn’t figured out the trick of balancing on the wobbly pole. No matter how many hours he spent struggling to stay atop it, he never made it past two minutes. Never mind discovering whatever in truth’s namewaited at the center of the world. He couldn’t focus on that when he could barely focus on keeping upright.
The second dark spot was the fact his pa still had not come looking for him. Did Rabb know where he was? Why had he not come or found a way to send a message? What was he waiting for? Rolan found he could not probe this question too deeply, or it began to ache like a bad tooth.
Finally, there was the absence of Anaya. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, show her. What would she think of his new skills with a dagger? What would she say if he told her he could read now?
Despite their last argument, he’d hoped Evaine and Anaya would return as they’d promised. But they hadn’t. He could only assume they’d given up on him after all, and that Evaine wouldn’t try to take him from Luc again.
It left him feeling confused and conflicted. He didn’t want to leave the Arcanist. But he also didn’t want Evaine to give up on him. Hecertainlydidn’t want to lose Anaya.
Later that day as he balanced precariously atop the pole, he gazed toward the city in the distance and sighed. The sigh cost him, as his foot slipped, his stomach lurched, and he landed face-first in the mud. Again.
Groaning, Rolan shoved himself up and hopped back onto the pole.
Hewouldmaster this.
As he wobbled there, three feet off the ground, arms and free leg flailing for balance, he thought again of his pa.Maybe he doesn’t know where I am. Maybe Hoff and the duke never told anyone. But, no… half the city saw me riding off with the Arcanist that day. He must know.
Rolan yelped as he toppled backward, adding a mud stain to the rear of his trousers.
Back up on the pole he went, just as the clouds gave way above, releasing a steady rain.
Every thought is a rope binding you to the surface, Luc had told him, weeks ago.Cut the ropes.
Rolan shut his eyes and forced out all thoughts of his father. He tried to imagine himself sinking into inky darkness as raindrops ran down his face and his clothes grew sodden, clinging to him.
But he thought of Anaya.
