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“Thank you, Omur,” I said. “Ishan.” I was already turning around. I wanted to get above ground and away from Ramia immediately. This whole thing had been a wild gryphon hunt and a total waste of my time.
“Your grace,” Ramia called after me.
I didn’t turn around. I was back on the winding floor, racing quickly up the pyramid’s center spiral.
“Your grace! Stop!”
I paused at the lift, knowing I needed Ramia to use her magic to bring us back to the ground level. We moved back to the top of the under-pyramid, in silence. When the ground stilled once, I stepped forward, pausing right before the double doors that led back to the main level. I turned on Ramia. “He destroyed them, didn’t he? With his Afeyan magic. You’re both taunting me.”
“I help you,” Ramia said.
“I don’t trust you.”
“Why? I give no reason for you not trust me. I give you information. Information Nabula did not. You want to go to restoration, I take you to restoration.”
“To a destroyed scroll! To a scroll missing all the information I need. Destroyed by Mercurial.”
“Only temporary. It being fixed. Yes, he did something. But I am not him. I give you great jewelry and at great price. Especially jewelry you not wearing.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why do you care if I wear that necklace? What benefit is it to you?”
“I tell you. It sit in display in Museion with countless others. Do nothing. Useless. Should be worn. Should adorn beautiful Heir to the Arkasva.”
“That can’t be it,” I said. “You didn’t design it. If anything, my wearing it is dangerous, especially if it can be linked to the other necklaces like it.”
Ramia’s eyebrows narrowed. “I think it fit for queen. I support you. It just gift.”
“Gift I paid for,” I snapped, “with your unnamed favor.”
She shrugged. “Small price. Still gift.”
“I’m leaving,” I said, pushing through the double doors. I rushed past several librarians of Ka Scholar before finding my way to the entrance. Nabula was sitting at her table staring at three different scrolls while Markan was sitting off to the side, his eyes wide and wary, two daggers in his hands. He was sliding the blades back and forth across each other, the sound grating.
Nabula flinched and looked up to find me. “Thank the Gods,” she said. “I mean, you’re back so soon, your grace.”
“The scroll was…not fit for reading,” I said. “Will you inform me when it is?”
“Of course.”
“Going home?” Markan asked hopefully.
“We have another stop,” I said.
Twenty minutes later, our seraphim landed on the opposite end of Scholar’s Harbor, at the Museion, the ancient building that housed Bamarian’s top philosophers and forward thinkers. I’d come here often when Meera’s vorakh had first appeared to sit down with anyone from Ka Scholar or any philosopher I could find.
I headed down the golden brick roads laid into the sand. Since the island was surrounded by the water of the Lumerian Ocean, it didn’t need waterways running through it to strengthen Lumerian magic. The Museion had been built out of white and gold marble and stood at the top of a great cliff that had been affectionately named Dry Wave, for it resembled the wave of an ocean, frozen in time by rock. The white marble stairs glittered beneath the sun as I climbed to the top of the cliff, and golden tiles came together to form a great Valalumir in the center of the steps. Markan followed close behind me.
There was no door to the Museion and no walls on the first level, only white marble columns that twisted up toward the roof. Waves crested against Dry Wave, spraying me with salt water as I approached the entrance. The soturion on duty immediately bowed.
“Here for another meeting, your grace? Class? Lecture?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I should have checked the schedule and prepared for your arrival.”
“This was unplanned. But I’ve been wanting to revisit the ancient artifacts exhibit,” I said.
Markan cursed under his breath.
“Ah, well, you know the way. Would you like a guide?”
“No, I’d just like to do a quick walk-through and see some of the new items on display.”
