Hoff!
Rolan couldn’t believe his eyes. What was going on here?The captain—formercaptain of the guard, meeting with one of the underworld’s most notorious fences?
Hoff really had fallen far.
“… got for me?” Cabbot was saying.
“Two,” Hoff replied, handing Cabbot a folded paper. “It’s getting harder to steal away from the palace without notice. And it’s blasted hard, by the way, doing the dirty work, risking my neck while you sleep soundly. Haveyouever killed a Cryptic, Cabbot? I’ve got wounds that would fell a lesser man such as you!”
Cabbot pocketed the papers, grimacing. “Stop whining. We need things toexcavate, not get quieter. Two secrets a week is not enough.”
“The word’sescalate, you imbecile.”
“Don’t turn your nose up atme, Hoffy. Not anymore. I heard the duke’s got you scrubbing chamber pots now!” Cabbot laughed, his voice cracking, and honestly Rolan couldn’t blame him.
Hoff turned purple, his hands clenching like he wished he could clobber Cabbot with one of those shiny, clean chamber pots. “You shut up! I still know enough guards in the force I could send after you!”
“And risk spillingourlittle secret? I don’t think so, Hoffy. I need more secrets. More fuel for the fire. The job’s not done until the Arcanist is dead or fled, that’s the orders.”
A cold pit formed in Rolan’s gut. He’d guessed this was about Luc, but hearing it confirmed made him feel sick. Was it Hoff who’d shot the flaming arrows at the house? Or Cabbot?
And who was giving the orders?
“I want the Arcanist gone more than anyone,” Hoff growled.“That monster cost me my job, my life’s work! I’ll bring you more secrets, you scum, as many as it takes to wash the Arcanist’s stink from our city. Him and his rabid little apprentice too.”
Just try it,Rolan thought. He’d love to see Luc put Hoff in his place, and reckoned it would take him less effort than shooing Supper out of the house.
He still needed to know who was behind all this, though. Someone was giving Cabbot and Hoff orders.
He leaned forward another inch, then felt a stab of pain as another row of stitches broke.
Blood dripped from his side, through a crack in the uneven boards… and dropped right onto Hoff’s shoulder.
The man startled, his lip curling in a snarl as he glanced at the blood, then up at the balcony.
“Someone’s spying on us!” he growled.
Swallowing his guilt, Rolan reached into his bag of relics and yanked out the first one he could find—a shimmering scale. He used the paring knife he’d stolen from Evaine’s kitchen to smash it. To his relief, the aleth he’d scratched into the blade worked, sucking Arcana from the scale, and he reached inward to open the Hollow Path. His weary, wounded body sucked in the blue light like a drowning person gasping in sweet air.
By the time Hoff climbed the stairs to the balcony, Rolan was long gone.
- CHAPTER 31 -CLICK CLICK CLICK
Rolan left the city as soon as dawn came. He would have gone earlier if he’d been armed with anything better than a paring knife. Its dull blade wouldn’t put so much as a dent in a Cryptic’s scaly hide. If he was lucky, it would make one collapse into monstrous laughter just long enough for him to run away.
Hoff and Cabbot were plotting to destroy the Arcanist, and only Rolan could warn him.
The Arcana he’d drawn on to escape Hoff had run out quickly, probably because it had come from one of the smaller Cryptics he’d defeated. Its secret had been less troubling than the others he’d learned. A girl had broken her mother’s heirloom mirror and hidden it by burying the shards in the dirt. Rolan had felt sorry for the girl.Her desperation had bled through the vision, leaving him feeling panicked and guilty.
He limped down the road to Luc’s, hating that he couldn’t make himself move faster, resisting the temptation to crush yet another relic. Luc would be furious with him as it was. Then again, maybe once he realized Rolan had done all this to savehim, he’d fall to his knees and weep with gratitude.
A kid could dream.
Luc’s house was much farther than Rolan remembered, and he thought wistfully of Apple with his long strides and easy canter. Maybe that would be Rolan’s reward for his devastatingly heroic actions; he’d ask for a horse of his own. One that couldn’t clear a small town with its toxic emissions.
“Can’t be much farther…,” he groaned as the sky grew brighter. A thick layer of cloud blanketed the sun, so it was hard to tell the exact time, but he was pretty sure he’d been walking for about a million hours. Luc had better throw in a new sword to go with his new horse.
When the house finally came into view, Rolan gave a sob of relief. He was matted with dirt and blood, both dried and fresh. His stomach clawed at his spine, desperate for food. And there was a fly that would not stop buzzing in his ear.
