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Premin cize wo Sykion went pale, losing any crafted display of sympathy, and High-Tower flushed with rage.
But Rodian watched this exchange intently, his eyes shifting quickly among them.
"Wy
"Yes, my dear," Sykion added. "It is time to leave."
Wy
"I want my journals from the Farlands returned," she said, not even acknowledging their evasions. "I want my property back… now."
No one said a word. Even High-Tower's blusters faltered, but Premin Sykion's expression grew sterner than Wy
Rodian turned his eyes on Wy
"You are a cathologer of the guild—" Sykion began, and the edge in her voice belied her dignified ma
"Very well," Wy
"Discoveries made in service!" High-Tower snarled, finally regaining his voice. "All you are, you are because of sagecraft… and thereby the texts belong to the guild by law."
"I know of no such law," Rodian said quietly.
Sykion turned her stricken expression toward the captain, and another dead silence followed. But Wy
"Do I have a legitimate claim?" she asked him.
"Certainly not!" High-Tower cut in.
Rodian raised a hand for silence. "If a journeyman smith or leather-worker finds a new technique or technology, does it belong to the master to whom the journeyman has contracted? Or if he or she develops or obtains new knowledge in the craft, is it the master who takes credit?"
High-Tower took a heavy step toward the captain, his gaping mouth working hard. But he couldn't get out one word.
"Not by law," Rodian said, supplying the answer.
"This is different," Sykion countered.
"Wy
"Give me access," Wy
This time outrage flushed High Premin Sykion's face. It quickly faded, as fear overwhelmed the head of Wy
The following morning Rodian paced around a lavish sitting room in the royal castle overlooking the bay. He'd received a summons at the barracks and was now uncertain what to expect. Perhaps the royals wished for a personal report on his progress—or rather, his failure.
Three of his men were dead. The costs of repairs to a'Seatt's shop were growing, for apparently the roof and front counter had been damaged as well. A member of the royals' favored Guild of Sagecraft had been caught in his trap, but not the perpetrators. And all he had to add to this, concerning the actual investigation, was that at least one of the suspects possessed a mage's skills the like of which he'd never thought possible.
Rodian halted in place.
He had to plan out the most logical and succinct account of events. Certainly the royal family couldn't hold him accountable for facing down someone with rare arcane skill. He could redirect his account to restore confidence in his ability. And now he had a new chance to learn what all of this was about—the texts of the guild's translation project.
Wy
After he'd released her last night, the trio of sages went off together, none of them speaking to one another. He'd suffered a short sleepless night wondering what might come of Wy
More than anything else, Rodian hated uncertainty. Wy
He barely noticed the thick carpets and deeply polished furnishings tended with great care. Some had likely been in the Âresky
This was a world far removed from the eastern grasslands and farms of his youth, and he'd clawed his way to his current position on ability and merit. He wasn't about to fall because of some mage murdering sages over bundles of old texts.
The ornate doors opened wide.
Rodian stared into the large amber eyes of an old elf in a white robe with poorly disguised contempt on his tan face. More than the elf's age, the robe bothered him. It was cut much like that of the sages, but white wasn't a color of any of the five orders.
"Princess Âthelthryth Âresky
Rodian breathed quickly through his nose.
From the outer crossing passage, Duchess Reine rounded through the entrance first.
Her chestnut hair hung loose, pushed back above each ear with a mother-of-pearl comb shaped like a foaming sea wave. She wasn't wearing a frontal-split gown, only her people's preferred riding boots and breeches along with a matching vestment over a white shirt of shimmering fabric. And a rider's saber hung upon her left hip from a white satin sash lashed about her waist. The effect made her look almost roguish and younger than her years.
"Captain," she greeted him. "Are you all right? You were not injured last night?"
"No, I'm well, Highness," he answered carefully, still wondering why he was here. "But I ca
Princess Âthelthryth glided in next, a sharp contrast to her sister-in-law.
Rodian had seen her only a few times in his life. Nearly as tall as him, she was as slender and upright as a young aspen tree. She shared the wheat-gold hair of the royal bloodline, as well as their aquamarine eyes, narrow features, and a blade-thin nose stretching down to a pale pink and thin-lipped mouth. Her pastel teal gown was simple and long-sleeved, but no one would ever mistake her for a minor noble. Where Reine always exuded an aura of quiet i
Rodian dropped to one knee, bowing his head, and waited to be acknowledged.
"Captain," the princess said quietly, and he raised his head just enough to see the subtle tilt of her head.
"Come and sit," the duchess added. "We require a service from you."
Rodian rose as the duchess settled on a couch, pointing to another across from her. Then she stretched a hand up to the princess.
"Come, sister."
The royals and highest nobles always referred to the wives or husbands of brothers and sisters in this ma