“That was reckless, my lord.”
Dwayne’s hand paused on the doorknob to his room. “Yes, I know. Again, I’m sorry.” Not least for the way the steward’s hands had shook while scolding Dwayne on the ride home. “I’m not going anywhere today so I think you should get some rest.”
“My lord,” Rodion drew himself up, “my injuries were mild compared to yours.”
While Rodion’s hair hid it well, there was still an obvious bruise on the stewards scalp, but comparing head trauma to nearly bleeding out sounded like a tedious exercise.
“Then maybe lunch?” asked Dwayne.
“Yes, my lord.” Rodion bowed. “I’ll get started right away.”
“Thank you.”
As the steward went downstairs, Dwayne entered his room and let out a breath. He was sorry for worrying Rodion. He wasn’t sorry for trying to recover Na’cch, even knowing that he’d failed.
He shed Akunna’s spare maid uniform as he made his way over to the bed. The dress had been more comfortable than he’d expected, certainly more so than Lord Gallus’s suits, but Soura’s nobility had distinct views on men who wore dresses and a Ri mage who was pretending to be a Qe mage lacked did not have room for that kind of trouble.
Flopping onto the bed, Dwayne took stock of the damage from last night. He’d broken his oath not to cast Ri magic, had lost Na’cch and any chance to learn new Ri spells, had nearly died from having his chest ripped open, and had definitely missed morning classes. There was some gain – the ability to cast magic silently, Thadden’s ownership of Akunna, and the fact that Mei’s murderers and his thieves were significant learnings – but incidental gains couldn’t be used to justify what had been a disaster.
Last night might have been a disaster for the thieves as well. There was no way that a group targeting Golden Age texts would find Na’cch worth all the effort of fighting Mei and Dwayne. Unless Na’cch was just a bonus.
Dwayne rolled out of bed, dressed in his pink suit, he couldn’t bear the thought of the new ones at the moment, and went down to the kitchen, where Rodion was filling a tray with bread and cheese.
“Have you inventoried the books yet?” Dwayne asked.
“I was going to bring this to you.” Rodion lifted the tray. “You should be in bed.”
“I’m not tired. Have you?”
“I haven’t had the time. I… We…” The tray in Rodion’s hands trembled. “You were missing, my lord.”
“Rodion,” Dwayne took the tray, “I’m here and I’m fine. I’ll take this downstairs and do the inventory myself.”
“You should rest.”
Dwayne tried on his best grin, said “Counting books is restful” then left before the steward could protest.
When he arrived in the dark basement, he lit a lantern so that he could inspect the room, which was in the exact same condition he’d left it in: outer door was in pieces, barrels of beer strewn about, boxes of books lying open. He settled down next to the boxes, placed the tray of food on his knees and started cataloging. He was about two dozen books in before he realized what his mistake.
He’d casted Ri’a’tha without thinking. To be fair, he’d used up his entire supply of matches on that stunt with “Ash” and even in the day the cellar was extremely dark, but to cast without thinking, worse without noticing, made him a danger to his secret. Only the thought of any more missing books kept his panic at bay. He continued his inventory.
When he was done, there were twelve tomes, all entries on Rodion’s rare book list, not in their expected place in the boxes. Considering the fact that each book was pretty thick, it should have been possible for someone to steal just one of them without Dwayne noticing, let alone all twelve. Even if the brute with the stiletto hadn’t been unconscious, he and the wind Qe would have had trouble carrying that many. Something else was going on here.
After putting away the books and returning the tray to the kitchen, Dwayne found Rodion in the foyer dusting. “You compiled a list of books. Where are they?”
“Upstairs.” Rodion didn’t stop dusting. “Oh, this just came for you via windsong.”
Dwayne accepted the plain envelope and opened it. The message inside was scrawled in a very familiar script. “It’s from Mei.” He put it in his pocket. “Why are those books upstairs?”
“I had to take them out of their boxes to verify their contents.” Rodion offered Dwayne an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. I forgot to put them back.”
“It’s fine.” If strangely lax of the steward. “With any luck, that kept the robbers from taking anything else. Still, I’d like to see them please.”
Rodion hesitated, just long enough for Dwayne to notice before saying, “Yes, my lord. Right away.”
Admaeus Speaks 