straight. Once the Academy understood how Vella worked, they could use her to confirm the truth of Gowel’s words. If Gowel would consent to hold her, that was. That, he suspected, would be the easy part. If the Academy was as frightened of the truth as Gowel claimed, what chance had Tyen to persuade them to try? He sighed as his excitement faded.
“See?” Gowel said, grimacing. “I told you I’d frighten you with my radical ideas.”
Tyen shook his head. “You didn’t. I already knew we were running out of magic. I thought I had a way to prove what you’re saying, but I’m not sure it would work.”
“It’s always worth trying,” Gowel said.
Tyen considered the man. Perhaps he was right. “You’d have to agree to have your mind read … by a book.”
As the lines on the adventurer’s face converged in an expression of bewilderment, Tyen smiled. Then he began to explain.
CHAPTER 8
T o Tyen’s relief, Professor Kilraker sent for him that evening, after dinner. Tyen was eager to explain his idea, and had hoped he wouldn’t have to wait days, even weeks, to get the chance. His relief evaporated, however, when the servant sent to fetch him led him to the Academy Director’s office.
Sudden anxiety closed Tyen’s throat and he croaked out a thank you as the man held open the door for him. Though the room was large the scrutiny of the five men watching him enter, the warmth from a roaring fire and the smoke from their pipes made it feel close and airless. Kilraker gave him a nod and smile of reassurance as he approached. Another history professor, Cutter, stood beside him, along with Delly and a professor of sorcery, Hapen, who taught final-year students. Those two regarded Tyen with disapproving frowns.
“Tyen Ironsmelter,” Director Ophen boomed from behind his desk. “Come here.” His hand did not stop beckoning until Tyen stood a few inches from the desk’s edge, then it dropped and picked up a small, familiar object. “Is this the book you found in the tomb in Mailand?”
“I believe so.” Tyen reached out to take the book, but the Director lowered it to the desk again, his fingertips resting on the cover.
“Tell us how you came by it.”
“It was in the tomb I found. In the sarcophagus, in the corpse’s hands and wrapped in a covering.”
“The tomb you went to great lengths to ascertain the location of, I hear. Did you go to such effort because you were looking for anything in particular?”
“No. I had no clue that the tomb would be any different from the others. I only wished to save myself some digging.”
The Director smiled. “Applying scholarly thought to make a task more efficient is a commendable approach. When did you discover the book’s magical nature?”
“After I removed the covering. I was surprised to find the pages unmarked, but then words appeared.”
“What did they say?”
“From what I recall … ‘Hello, my name is Vella’.”
“In what language were these words?”
“Leratian.”
One of Ophen’s eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted to one side. “How is that possible, if this book has been entombed for six hundred years? Even if the words were Leratian, they would be an early, almost indecipherable form. Can you read early Leratian?”
“No. But Vella – the book – is able to adopt the language known by the man who holds her.”
The Director frowned. “How does she – it – do that?”
“She links to their mind. That is how she collects information.”
Ophen quickly withdrew his hand from Vella. He stared at her, then looked up at Kilraker.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I did not know. I did warn you against—”
“Yes, yes. I haven’t opened it,” the Director said, scowling.
Tyen opened his mouth to tell them that Vella did not need to be opened to read their minds, then thought better of it. They seemed too suspicious of her, and at any rate the damage – if any – was already done. Kilraker, Delly and Ophen had
“See?” Gowel said, grimacing. “I told you I’d frighten you with my radical ideas.”
Tyen shook his head. “You didn’t. I already knew we were running out of magic. I thought I had a way to prove what you’re saying, but I’m not sure it would work.”
“It’s always worth trying,” Gowel said.
Tyen considered the man. Perhaps he was right. “You’d have to agree to have your mind read … by a book.”
As the lines on the adventurer’s face converged in an expression of bewilderment, Tyen smiled. Then he began to explain.
CHAPTER 8
T o Tyen’s relief, Professor Kilraker sent for him that evening, after dinner. Tyen was eager to explain his idea, and had hoped he wouldn’t have to wait days, even weeks, to get the chance. His relief evaporated, however, when the servant sent to fetch him led him to the Academy Director’s office.
Sudden anxiety closed Tyen’s throat and he croaked out a thank you as the man held open the door for him. Though the room was large the scrutiny of the five men watching him enter, the warmth from a roaring fire and the smoke from their pipes made it feel close and airless. Kilraker gave him a nod and smile of reassurance as he approached. Another history professor, Cutter, stood beside him, along with Delly and a professor of sorcery, Hapen, who taught final-year students. Those two regarded Tyen with disapproving frowns.
“Tyen Ironsmelter,” Director Ophen boomed from behind his desk. “Come here.” His hand did not stop beckoning until Tyen stood a few inches from the desk’s edge, then it dropped and picked up a small, familiar object. “Is this the book you found in the tomb in Mailand?”
“I believe so.” Tyen reached out to take the book, but the Director lowered it to the desk again, his fingertips resting on the cover.
“Tell us how you came by it.”
“It was in the tomb I found. In the sarcophagus, in the corpse’s hands and wrapped in a covering.”
“The tomb you went to great lengths to ascertain the location of, I hear. Did you go to such effort because you were looking for anything in particular?”
“No. I had no clue that the tomb would be any different from the others. I only wished to save myself some digging.”
The Director smiled. “Applying scholarly thought to make a task more efficient is a commendable approach. When did you discover the book’s magical nature?”
“After I removed the covering. I was surprised to find the pages unmarked, but then words appeared.”
“What did they say?”
“From what I recall … ‘Hello, my name is Vella’.”
“In what language were these words?”
“Leratian.”
One of Ophen’s eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted to one side. “How is that possible, if this book has been entombed for six hundred years? Even if the words were Leratian, they would be an early, almost indecipherable form. Can you read early Leratian?”
“No. But Vella – the book – is able to adopt the language known by the man who holds her.”
The Director frowned. “How does she – it – do that?”
“She links to their mind. That is how she collects information.”
Ophen quickly withdrew his hand from Vella. He stared at her, then looked up at Kilraker.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I did not know. I did warn you against—”
“Yes, yes. I haven’t opened it,” the Director said, scowling.
Tyen opened his mouth to tell them that Vella did not need to be opened to read their minds, then thought better of it. They seemed too suspicious of her, and at any rate the damage – if any – was already done. Kilraker, Delly and Ophen had
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