“Icarebecause it’s a secret. The sort you might hatch from a Cryptic relic.”
“You think someone’s going around the city, butchering Cryptics for their secrets?”
“Their secrets… or perhaps something more. It’s against the law for anyone to wield Arcana but an Arcanist.”
The duke blew out a breath. “You’re making monsters out of shadows, man. There have been no reports of anyone using Arcana in the city. No one here knows how to eventouchArcana, you know that. This could be explained a dozen other ways. Most likely it’s some disgruntled Listener stirring up trouble.”
“Still. Keep an ear open,” Luc grunted.
“If it makes you feel better,” the duke sighed, “I should think this giant Cryptic would be your bigger problem. And what about this boy? You chose a bad time to take an apprentice, Luc, with a monster like that on the hunt.”
Luc was quiet for so long, Rolan nearly chanced another peek. But then the Arcanist spoke, so low and soft his words were barely audible. “He’s a smart lad, quick with his hands. Quicker with his tongue.”
“He’s trouble,” replied his brother. “There are better boys from better homes, raised with morals and respect. Ones who wouldn’t steal your boots from off your feet.”
“Do you know why Hoff took interest in him?” Luc asked. “Do you know where his father is?”
“How would I know the seedy parentage of some street waif,much less where to find him? As I said, there’s still time to choose some other, more suitable lad. I could make you a list! Any one of them would leap at a chance to follow your footsteps.”
Rolan barely breathed, doing his best impression of a rug.
Luc snorted. “I think you overestimate my popularity, Brother.”
“Still. Whyhim?”
Him, as if Rolan were a wet rat that had showed up under his dinner table. It took every bit of his willpower to maintain his neutral expression, to keep his breathing even. He’d learned long ago how to expertly feign sleep.
He wanted to hear Luc’s answer.
“You’ve been hounding me to take an apprentice for years,” Luc said dismissively. “Now, what’s this I hear about a delay in shipments from the southern quarry?”
Rolan suppressed a sigh of disappointment.
The two men rambled on about road conditions and the qualities of granite. Their talk wasliterallyas dull as rocks.
After a few minutes, Rolan fell asleep in truth and only woke hours later when the Arcanist was ready to go home.
- CHAPTER 23 -MUSHROOMS
Three days later, the Arcanist stood with his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face while Rolan vomited violently into a blackberry bush.
“Why… didn’t you… stop me…?” Rolan groaned, doubled over as cramps racked his abdomen.
“I told you yesterday the yellow mushrooms were poisonous,” Luc said with a shrug.
“Well, Iforgot!” Rolan retched again, the last of his measly breakfast splattering onto the forest floor. “You could have reminded me! You saw me pick and eat the blasted thing!”
“There’s no teacher like a bad experience,” the Arcanist replied, unconcerned. “Are you done?”
“Yes,” Rolan complained. “I’mdone! Done with mushrooms. Done with nature. Done with being your blasted apprentice! I want to go home. Maybe my meals in the city were moldy, but at least they stayed in my stomach!”
“Fine,” said Luc. “If you can find your way back to Crisanth, not only will we part ways, but I’ll give you enough coin to buy hot meals for a month.”
Scowling, Rolan wiped his chin on his sleeve and looked around, miserable enough to take Luc up on the offer.
But as usual, he was hopelessly lost. His lessons on woodcraft—foraging, shelter making, water finding, basic directions—were not going well. This came as a surprise to him, given he could always find his way in the city. But out here in the forest, every tree looked the same. Worse, every mushroom looked the same.
Luc sighed. “How do you find east, boy?”
