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Chapter Seventeen: A Follower
The air was cool with the teasing whisper of a promising winter when Kilvic and his companions stepped out of the tavern. The sun was still high in the sky, however, it was no confusion that they had lost some time. Kilvic tightened his hold on the bottle in his hand and turned down the tavern steps onto the sidewalk, and his friends followed.
“I didn’t know you knew how to play the harp,” Moss said as they walked down to the nearest junction.
Kilvic didn’t take his eyes of the road. “I know.”
“Where did you learn?” Tudi asked.
“Back home.”
“It was a beautiful piece,” she said. “What’s the name?”
“Clara,” Ariadne answered.
Somehow Tudi had ended up beside Kilvic and Ariadne walked on the other side of the girl. Until now, she’d been busy ticking of a mental list on her fingers and frowning.
“Just Clara?” Tudi
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“…You were the one that chose him, remember?” one of the men with a scattered mop of hair on his head was saying. “We watched them, paid attention, and when you saw him play at the bar you chose him. ‘a boy that plays like that wouldn’t have much love for combat’ you said. Remember?” The man was frantic but the one that had led Kilvic’s quarry into the alley calmed him, then turned to the man in the jacket. “Were you followed?” “No,” Kilvic’s quarry answered. “How can you be sure?” “Because I used that running away technique you showed me,” he answered. “The one where I use the alleys and cross the roads. I don’t know why I had to do all that, I could’ve been here long sooner.” Then he turned to one of the other men, satisfied with his own answer, and asked, “What happened to your face?” The man questioned put a hand to his face then turned and drove a vicious kick into the side of one of the students lying on the floor, inciting a pained groa
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Kilvic tapped Ariadne’s cheek, drawing her attention to him, and not just whatever she didn’t like about him. “I need your help Ariadne.” “Go fuck yourself,” she spat. “You never want anyone’s help, let alone my own.” He ignored her rage. “Well I need it now.” “Why should I help you?” “Because we’ll all die if you don’t,” he told her, soaking the words in sorrow and remorse. He could’ve gone over to Moss or Stratin, shaking them from the strong hold of the spell would be easier than shaking Ariadne; he knew them better. But they didn’t possess the skill she did, and he knew nothing about Tudi to help. He looked at Ariadne, eyes pleading. “Please, help me.” She ceased her struggling and looked at him with a frustrated sigh, but he could see she was now willing. “What do you want, mister Rudric?” He ignored the mockery in her voice. “A concordance spell.” “What for?” She looked at him, suspicious. “I won’t help you make Tudi pay
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Morning found Kilvic and his friends in the headmaster’s office mere moments after their lesson under Haru’s tutelage. The morning was cold, and while winter was still weeks away, a month at the least, it could be tasted in the air.The room, walled in bookshelves, which though almost imperceptible, were covered in more books than the last time he’d been here, smelled of a type of incense he couldn’t name. The point of the summons was as clear as day. Deidrich, who now stood beside the headmaster’s chair, had come for them at some point during their training, and Haru had ended the lessons rather than release them to the guard’s care and have them miss any other thing he would’ve felt important enough to teach.‘And none of you recognize your captors?” Headmaster Skanriv asked for the second time since they’d entered his office, his old voice weary.Even now, Kilvic had not heard any question directed s
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Fyodan stood with one of the widest smiles on his face, topless and in Kilvic’s way where he stood a few feet from the door to the head student’s room, obstructing him and delaying his goal. “So tell me,” the hall representative was saying. “Do you think I’m pretty?” Kilvic swallowed his impatience. Being the last of his two friends to leave the training hall this morning, Haru had sent him to find the head student and give the boy a message. This had been his purpose for knocking on the door of a room he had been to only once before so early in the morning. Sadly, it was also the reason he was having to deal with another of Fyodan’s pestering. Gyra hadn’t been the one to open the door after his patience had begun wearing thin. And now Fyodan stood before him, topless, with a boyish grin. His hair was a disheveled mess and he still had his morning breath seeping through each word while he smelled of sex, but despite that, there was an appeal to his ap
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The thought that an exercise in mind melding required a pen and a book was a tough concept to wrap his mind around. But the book before Kilvic was as unmistakable as the pain in his back from his morning lessons, and the pen, fueled with blank ink like burned wood twirled between his fingers, holding his focus.The instructor for the class was the same man who’d brought him to Skanriv’s office on his first day; the same man who’d been displeased for having been expecting him. That day, he’d looked mean and old in his robe and wrinkled frown but the first day he’d walked into the class and Kilvic had set eyes on him for the second time, he could have easily been mistaken for someone else. His smooth skin, the glint in his eyes, the smile always teasing his lips as if holding back the most exquisite of allusive jokes was the sharpest contrast to what Kilvic had seen. It was also the most perfected expressive lie he’d ever come across.
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Kilvic found it a tad surprising that a boy who’s magecraft was focused on the nature of blood would never have thought to drain a heart off all it had.The exercise on mind melding went on at a steady pace with Havldec supervising, walking amongst the students and checking their works. When he got to Kilvic and Sharmin, he stopped, a crease in his brows. Gently, he took Kilvic’s book, reading its contents.“I thought I said to start slow?” The man frowned then cast his gaze around. “Who’s your partner?”Kilvic poked a thumb behind him and Sharmin offered the man a smile. Even now, their connection remained unfazed.Havldec took Sharmin’s book and read through it, then his frown turned to confusion. He’d instructed they write each other’s thoughts on paper, but Kilvic had written in a mess, his thoughts jumble with the boy’s, and judging from the man’s confusion, so had Sharmin.
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Spells were easy enough once the basics were known, though Kilvic wasn’t certain which was the easier of both requirements: infusing the words with reia or finding the words that attended the mind.Lunch had ended a while ago, and following his request, Moss and Stratin had left for their lesson without him. And now he was left to rearrange the things in his possession almost appalled at how he’d waited so long to get things done. He held up the bottle of wine gifted for Drespard’s tale and put it to the side, beneath his bed, before returning to his sack and retrieving three silver coins, the reason he was here. Holding them palm up he wondered if perhaps this was a waste of silver, and if the other options open to him would be better substitutes. He had to conserve his finances, but then again, he had to conserve his reputation. He sighed. That was more than enough to make his decision. And wrapping up his sack, he placed the coins in his pocket and walked
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