not take the stolen items then instead of waiting until a few days before your arrival?”
“Perhaps the motive relates to Ygresta’s creation of a golem.”
“Which we haven’t found.”
“And which he might never have completed.”
“Do you think he might have hidden this codex because he knew someone was after the golem manual?”
“An attractive hypothesis, but what evidence do we have to support it?
She hesitated before answering. “It makes more sense if he had written the note himself.”
“But he did not.”
“That means he didn’t put it on the box, either.”
“Ah!” I retrieved the teak box in which I had first found the codex.
“Ah!” she mimicked me.
I frowned, but in truth I was beginning to enjoy her teasing. I showed her the trade stamp under the velvet lining of the box. “What do you make of this?”
“Kaer Maga,” she said, recognizing the symbol. “The professor was getting fat. What do fat wizards and Kaer Maga make you think of?”
“Bloatmages.” I shuddered to think of the blood-gorged practitioners of hemotheurgy.
Illyria shivered in agreement.
“It seems unlikely Ygresta had turned to blood magic. The weight gain among hemotheurges is a symptom of their organs’ generating surplus blood to fuel their spells. Besides, one of Ygresta’s colleagues would surely have noticed a ruddy appearance, the burst veins, and of course the leeches.”
She gazed at me with an uncomfortable intensity.
“What?” I said.
“We’re in the middle of one of your stories, aren’t we?”
“Pardon me?”
“The stories you told when you visited after Uncle Fedele’s funeral. Most of them started with you not knowing the answer to a problem. That’s where we are now. You’re just starting to solve a mystery, and I’m helping you.” She spoke with such open delight that I dared not trust its sincerity. Better to change the subject.
“Ah.” I took another tart and held it up as evidence. “As for the bloatmage theory, your confectioner’s testimony suggests a more quotidian explanation for Ygresta’s obesity.”
“And for yours, too, if you keep inhaling those like snuff.”
I would have protested, but it is rude to speak with one’s mouth full.
“Perhaps the codex holds the answer. Professor Ygresta must have known you’d discover its secret. What did he want you to do with it?”
“If he suspected a threat to his life, perhaps he meant me to solve his murder.” The words had barely escaped my lips before I dismissed the theory. A man does not plan for another to revenge his death when there is time to prevent it. “Never mind that. It is preposterous.”
She tapped her chin as she thought. “You know, I recall a guest lecture about famous spell collections. ‘Obscure Necromantic Texts,’ or something like that.”
That lecture had not been part of my Acadamae curriculum. “The speaker was not memorable, I take it?”
“Dry as dust, but I remember bits of the talk. Most of the texts covered were caught halfway between legend and history. Could Professor Ygresta have found such a book?”
I touched the teak box. “It stands to reason that the sihedron is another intentional clue, either from Ygresta or from whoever placed the codex in the box. The sihedron suggests King Xin, Thassilon, and the runelords. Do you recall the names of the last runelords?”
“Alaznist, Belimarius, Karzoug, Krune, Sorshen, Xanderghul, and Zutha.” She curtsied like a child presented to her parents’ friends—which was precisely how we had first met.
I chided her. “Rote memorization is the least of the academic virtues.”
“Shall I recite their associated sins, Professor?”
Illyria clearly knew the foundations of rune magic as well as any Acadamae student. The original runelords aligned their magic specialties with the ideals of just rule. Sadly, the later runelords perverted these ideals into the seven sins. It was a perfect allegory for the way each school
“Perhaps the motive relates to Ygresta’s creation of a golem.”
“Which we haven’t found.”
“And which he might never have completed.”
“Do you think he might have hidden this codex because he knew someone was after the golem manual?”
“An attractive hypothesis, but what evidence do we have to support it?
She hesitated before answering. “It makes more sense if he had written the note himself.”
“But he did not.”
“That means he didn’t put it on the box, either.”
“Ah!” I retrieved the teak box in which I had first found the codex.
“Ah!” she mimicked me.
I frowned, but in truth I was beginning to enjoy her teasing. I showed her the trade stamp under the velvet lining of the box. “What do you make of this?”
“Kaer Maga,” she said, recognizing the symbol. “The professor was getting fat. What do fat wizards and Kaer Maga make you think of?”
“Bloatmages.” I shuddered to think of the blood-gorged practitioners of hemotheurgy.
Illyria shivered in agreement.
“It seems unlikely Ygresta had turned to blood magic. The weight gain among hemotheurges is a symptom of their organs’ generating surplus blood to fuel their spells. Besides, one of Ygresta’s colleagues would surely have noticed a ruddy appearance, the burst veins, and of course the leeches.”
She gazed at me with an uncomfortable intensity.
“What?” I said.
“We’re in the middle of one of your stories, aren’t we?”
“Pardon me?”
“The stories you told when you visited after Uncle Fedele’s funeral. Most of them started with you not knowing the answer to a problem. That’s where we are now. You’re just starting to solve a mystery, and I’m helping you.” She spoke with such open delight that I dared not trust its sincerity. Better to change the subject.
“Ah.” I took another tart and held it up as evidence. “As for the bloatmage theory, your confectioner’s testimony suggests a more quotidian explanation for Ygresta’s obesity.”
“And for yours, too, if you keep inhaling those like snuff.”
I would have protested, but it is rude to speak with one’s mouth full.
“Perhaps the codex holds the answer. Professor Ygresta must have known you’d discover its secret. What did he want you to do with it?”
“If he suspected a threat to his life, perhaps he meant me to solve his murder.” The words had barely escaped my lips before I dismissed the theory. A man does not plan for another to revenge his death when there is time to prevent it. “Never mind that. It is preposterous.”
She tapped her chin as she thought. “You know, I recall a guest lecture about famous spell collections. ‘Obscure Necromantic Texts,’ or something like that.”
That lecture had not been part of my Acadamae curriculum. “The speaker was not memorable, I take it?”
“Dry as dust, but I remember bits of the talk. Most of the texts covered were caught halfway between legend and history. Could Professor Ygresta have found such a book?”
I touched the teak box. “It stands to reason that the sihedron is another intentional clue, either from Ygresta or from whoever placed the codex in the box. The sihedron suggests King Xin, Thassilon, and the runelords. Do you recall the names of the last runelords?”
“Alaznist, Belimarius, Karzoug, Krune, Sorshen, Xanderghul, and Zutha.” She curtsied like a child presented to her parents’ friends—which was precisely how we had first met.
I chided her. “Rote memorization is the least of the academic virtues.”
“Shall I recite their associated sins, Professor?”
Illyria clearly knew the foundations of rune magic as well as any Acadamae student. The original runelords aligned their magic specialties with the ideals of just rule. Sadly, the later runelords perverted these ideals into the seven sins. It was a perfect allegory for the way each school
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