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Gods smite me, has Stavros been trying to appeal to the king on my behalf?
Of course, it’ll be as much to ensure I don’t fall apart and lose all control over my powers as about my personal safety.
My stomach lurches, but I bob in a slight curtsey. “I’m glad that I can serve the royal family and my country in this way. Also, it would likely be at least as dangerous for me to attempt to withdraw at this point as to stay the course.”
King Konram’s lips curve into a thin smile. “I appreciate your commitment. It is vital that I know their strategies to fully defend myself, my family, and our country. Do whatever you can to find out what definite actions the miscreants intend to carry out. The risks you’re taking will be rewarded.”
Thirty-Three
Alek
The midday sun beats down on me from the cloudless sky. It’s warmer than I expected for an autumn day, or I’d have dressed in a lighter shirt.
I wipe the sweat from the back of my neck and restrain a grimace at the prickling of perspiration beneath my mask.
Ivy would point out that I could simply take it off. The memory of her hand against my cheek, the affection shining in her eyes when she took me in as I am, still sends a giddy thrill through my chest.
But I’ve faced enough looks of horror and disgust from other people that I’d rather not risk it. I don’t want to give the employees of this clay quarry any reason to hesitate about welcoming my visit.
The sprawling building I’m approaching is appropriately covered with glazed clay tiles to form a mosaic: an image of Creaden, the godlen who presides over construction as well as leadership and justice, raising a temple from the ground with a sweep of his hands while the first king of Silana applauds.
To the left of the main office entrance is a doorway to the on-site shop, a feature I’ve discovered is common at the clay quarries. The businesses ship most of the materials they dig up elsewhere for craftspeople to work with, but they also like to show off the end product that can be created.
To the right, I note a few wagons of varying sizes around the side of the building. I’d imagine there are storage and equipment rooms at that end.
This is the fourth quarry I’ve visited in the past week, a little farther from the capital than the others but still close enough to make a day trip of it. I’ve developed a pattern of investigation that seems to serve me well.
First, I step into the shop room. The woman supervising it bobs her head to me, her gaze lingering on my mask for a few moments with obvious curiosity. “Welcome to the Earthshine Quarry. I hope you find much to enjoy in our wares.”
I nod to her in turn, pushing my mouth into a smile despite my self-consciousness. “I can already see the clay produced here is of excellent quality.”
I turn toward the display shelves, taking in the variety of dishes, vases, and figurines, some fired plain, others glazed or painted. “Were all of these made on site?”
“Yes, our master potter likes to show off all the many styles that can be applied to our clay.”
As I meander along the shelves as if browsing, I draw a small piece of broken pottery from my carry pouch. It’s a shard from the snake Ivy captured and Stavros killed.
I’ve studied the color and texture of it so closely that I can see it when I close my eyes, but I examine it again to compare it to the examples of plain fired clay before me. My heart starts to beat a little faster.
My sample has the same ruddy brown hue as the clay produced here, with an equally fine grain. I rub my thumb over the shard and then touch one of the bowls.
They feel much the same too.
At all of the past quarries, my hopes dwindled at this point as I saw the differences in the materials. But this—this could be the clay that the scourge sorcerers used to make their conjured creatures.
And conjured men too, if Ivy’s observations are correct. Knowing her, I’m inclined to think they are.
Suppressing the nausea that pools in my gut at that thought, I tuck the shard away.
“Can I help you with anything or make any suggestions, good sir?” the shopkeeper asks.
I shake my head. “Not at the moment, thank you. I’ve actually come from Sovereign College with an academic purpose rather than to buy. But it’s been helpful seeing the finished product. I’ll be sure to recommend this quarry to the artists at the college.”
The last comment appears to please her even though I’m not a paying customer. She smiles brightly as I head out again.
I amble over to the office area as casually as I can, attempting to give every impression of a diligent but not overly invested scholar. If this is the source of the conspirators’ clay, I don’t know how tangled up the employees might be in their schemes.
They could know nothing about what purpose their materials are being put to… or they could answer to Ster. Torstem and the others. I can’t give them any reason to suspect that I have an ulterior motive for being here.
