head.
Perhaps he was used to the heat, she thought. A glassblower’s prentice has to spend long hours working the ovens, fanning and stoking the fires for the melted glass. Besides, he was unusually resourceful—for a prentice—and he had had time to get used to the unpleasant conditions.
Still, now that she came to think of it, Maddy realized that although Lucky knew a great deal about her,
she
still knew almost nothing about
him.
What was he doing under the Hill? From what he had told her, he had been gone for two weeks or more—a serious breach of his contract of apprenticeship, for which he would be punished when he returned. Why would a glassblower’s prentice come here? More importantly, how had a glassblower’s prentice managed to break into World Below in the first place?
A few feet away, Lucky slept, a picture of innocence. Maddy could not believe she hadn’t at least questioned him, hadn’t even thought of doing so until now. There had been so much else to do—and besides, Lucky had no magic, no glam.
Bjarkán
confirmed it—he left no trail.
But now even that made Maddy uneasy. She tried to recall exactly
what
she had seen as Lucky came back over the rocks with his fishing net. Surely there should have been
something,
she thought—his colors, at least. Lucky was young and strong and smart; he should have left a good, bright signature behind him. But even with
Bjarkán,
there had been no colors. Not a gleam, not a glimmer.
Could he have hidden them somehow?
The thought was too alarming. It suggested—
Sitting up sharply, she raised her hand and cast
Bjarkán
for the second time, and this time she concentrated as hard as she could, looking into the runeshape for anything—
anything
—out of the ordinary.
The glassblower’s prentice slept on, one hand clenched at his side, the other flung out against the rock. Now she could see his signature, a bright and exuberant violet, glowing fitfully as he slept.
Maddy gave a sigh of relief. Just nerves, that’s all it was; nerves and her own fears, making her jump at shadows. She lowered her gaze…
And then she saw it in his left hand, where, sleeping, he must have relaxed his guard. A trio of runes, like thin trails of colored fire scrawled across his palm:
ýr
, the Protector, crossed with
Bjarkán
and
Ós,
a complex charm to shield him as he slept.
So much for his innocence, Maddy thought. Gods knew who this Lucky was or why he had lied, but one thing about her new friend was clear. He was no prentice after all.
He was a Fury, just like her.
Most runes can be neutralized, either by reversal or by casting another to combat their effect. Maddy judged that
T
ý
r
might break through Lucky’s defense, revealing whatever he was hiding. Of course, it did depend to some extent on the strength of his glam, but Maddy had the advantage, and surely now his resistance must be at its lowest.
Taking care not to disturb the sleeper, she stood up and silently cast the rune. Then, with a sudden push, she set it to work.
His charm flickered but did not fail.
Maddy gave another push and at the same time cast
Bjarkán.
The runes vanished, and Maddy was left looking into a face she had seen once before and which, now that she saw it in its true colors, seemed unexpectedly familiar.
His Aspect had not been greatly altered. He had much the same coloring and build, although he was a little taller. But he was older than he had first seemed, and even in sleep, there was less innocence in his features, more guile. There were marks too, which had not been there earlier: a runemark—
—
Kaen,
reversed, on his bare arm—and now she saw that his mouth was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars, too regular to be accidental.
Maddy dropped her hand to her side. Too late now she understood everything, too late she remembered what Sugar had said, too late remembered One-Eye’s words.
A…friend
, he had told her,
turned traitor in the Winter War. I
Perhaps he was used to the heat, she thought. A glassblower’s prentice has to spend long hours working the ovens, fanning and stoking the fires for the melted glass. Besides, he was unusually resourceful—for a prentice—and he had had time to get used to the unpleasant conditions.
Still, now that she came to think of it, Maddy realized that although Lucky knew a great deal about her,
she
still knew almost nothing about
him.
What was he doing under the Hill? From what he had told her, he had been gone for two weeks or more—a serious breach of his contract of apprenticeship, for which he would be punished when he returned. Why would a glassblower’s prentice come here? More importantly, how had a glassblower’s prentice managed to break into World Below in the first place?
A few feet away, Lucky slept, a picture of innocence. Maddy could not believe she hadn’t at least questioned him, hadn’t even thought of doing so until now. There had been so much else to do—and besides, Lucky had no magic, no glam.
Bjarkán
confirmed it—he left no trail.
But now even that made Maddy uneasy. She tried to recall exactly
what
she had seen as Lucky came back over the rocks with his fishing net. Surely there should have been
something,
she thought—his colors, at least. Lucky was young and strong and smart; he should have left a good, bright signature behind him. But even with
Bjarkán,
there had been no colors. Not a gleam, not a glimmer.
Could he have hidden them somehow?
The thought was too alarming. It suggested—
Sitting up sharply, she raised her hand and cast
Bjarkán
for the second time, and this time she concentrated as hard as she could, looking into the runeshape for anything—
anything
—out of the ordinary.
The glassblower’s prentice slept on, one hand clenched at his side, the other flung out against the rock. Now she could see his signature, a bright and exuberant violet, glowing fitfully as he slept.
Maddy gave a sigh of relief. Just nerves, that’s all it was; nerves and her own fears, making her jump at shadows. She lowered her gaze…
And then she saw it in his left hand, where, sleeping, he must have relaxed his guard. A trio of runes, like thin trails of colored fire scrawled across his palm:
ýr
, the Protector, crossed with
Bjarkán
and
Ós,
a complex charm to shield him as he slept.
So much for his innocence, Maddy thought. Gods knew who this Lucky was or why he had lied, but one thing about her new friend was clear. He was no prentice after all.
He was a Fury, just like her.
Most runes can be neutralized, either by reversal or by casting another to combat their effect. Maddy judged that
T
ý
r
might break through Lucky’s defense, revealing whatever he was hiding. Of course, it did depend to some extent on the strength of his glam, but Maddy had the advantage, and surely now his resistance must be at its lowest.
Taking care not to disturb the sleeper, she stood up and silently cast the rune. Then, with a sudden push, she set it to work.
His charm flickered but did not fail.
Maddy gave another push and at the same time cast
Bjarkán.
The runes vanished, and Maddy was left looking into a face she had seen once before and which, now that she saw it in its true colors, seemed unexpectedly familiar.
His Aspect had not been greatly altered. He had much the same coloring and build, although he was a little taller. But he was older than he had first seemed, and even in sleep, there was less innocence in his features, more guile. There were marks too, which had not been there earlier: a runemark—
—
Kaen,
reversed, on his bare arm—and now she saw that his mouth was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars, too regular to be accidental.
Maddy dropped her hand to her side. Too late now she understood everything, too late she remembered what Sugar had said, too late remembered One-Eye’s words.
A…friend
, he had told her,
turned traitor in the Winter War. I
Similar Books
