AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not even animals.” Rilion tossed the hoe into a pile of ashes. Gray motes swirled into the sky. “How old do you think it is?”
“Hours. It burned some time this morning, I'd think.” Gil turned to search the nearby hills, but if he saw anything, he did not say. “We would have passed them on the road from Danesse.”
“Unless they didn't go that way.” The prince glanced to the north.
Thea tried to follow his line of sight, but a flutter of something caught her attention. She walked that way, instead.
At the corner of a mostly-fallen shed, a scrap of deep red fabric fluttered. She cocked her head. “That's a Kentorian weave.”
Rilion headed her way. “We're rather far north for Kentorian riffraff, aren't we?”
“Consider who you're traveling with,” Gil said.
The prince snorted. “Fair enough.”
Thea reached for the fabric. The moment her fingers brushed it, a jolt ofsomethinglanced up her fingers. She jerked her hand back with a yelp.
Gil tensed. “What is it?”
“Magic.” She shook her hand. It still prickled. “I don't know what sort. It could be from someone with a talent for weaving, or another Threadmancer.”
Rilion perked at the statement and reached past her to take it. “You can feel that?”
“Because I'm a Threadmancer, too. I can feel some things. Sometimes. A good Threadmancer can hide the magic, so it won't stand out to anyone but an artificer, but...”
“Let me see.” The cloth stuck fast where it was snagged. Rilion pulled until it tore loose, then flexed the fabric between his hands. A puzzled frown worked its way over his face as he brushed his thumbs across its surface. “There's... hmm. I'm not sure what to make of that.”
Thea's brow furrowed. “You sense something?”
“I have a bit of a talent for it,” the prince admitted. “I've not had the training of a full artificer, of course, but it's a good skill for anyone with historical interests to have.”
Gil crossed his arms. “And do you plan to tell us what you feel, or are you just going to stand there and fondle that like it's a lover's handkerchief?”
Flustered, Rilion pushed the bit of cloth into Thea's hands. “It's resistance magic. The fabric is made so it can... hmm, how to explain it? It repels flame.”
“Then you'd explain it by saying it repels flame.” Gil reached out and for a moment, Thea thought he meant to take it from her hands. He drew his fingertips across its surface. She already knew he couldn't feel it, but perhaps he'd notice something they hadn't. “You said this is Kentorian cloth?”
She nodded. “I'm positive of it.”
His fingers tensed against the scrap. “Is there any way you could tell who made this, or when?”
Thea wished she could. “That's beyond my ability. If there were fewer Threadmancers in Kentoria, then maybe I'd know something about their power signatures, but there are at least a dozen.” Just one fewer, now that she was gone.
Gil exhaled softly, but she heard his frustration.
“So we have an arsonist swathed in enchanted clothing from Kentoria, a bordering country Ranor doesn't quite get along with.” Rilion scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. “Yet there are no corpses, no bones. Not even those of animals. Any ideas what that could mean?”
Thea looked to Gil as if to ask his thoughts. His eyes narrowed with thought and instead of replying, he stalked toward the northern side of the village. At first, she thought he studied the nearby hills nestled at the foot of the mountain. It wasn't until she went to join him that she saw he was examining the ground. She hung back, staying out of the way.
“When they departed, it was in an organized group, but they went fast.” Whatever marks told him that, she couldn't see them. “Farmers should be settling for winter, not abandoning everything and venturing into the mountains.”
Unless they hadn't a choice. Thea stuffed the scrap of fabric into her pocket and then nibbled on her thumbnail. “Where does this road lead?”
“Angroth,” Rilion said. “Not much between here and there.”
Gil grunted softly and turned to go back to his horse. “Then perhaps we'll see them on the road and find answers along the way.”
A sliver of doubt twisted Rilion's expression, but he said nothing and returned to his mount.
