NOVEL NEXT §030 The Way Home
The Way Home
"She's known as Keeva's Little Witch. It's unfortunate you revealed so much, but that's a better outcome than the alternative. She could have learned everything about you or planted dangerous suggestions into your head. Some classes can do that."
They were in a carriage, riding from the palace to Qumurong Station. It was a little strange that they never had a formal audience with the governor, but she had apparently seen what she needed to and released them to return home.
"Reconnaisance by fire," he grumbled. "They took a random shot at me just to see what I would do."
"I doubt they will attempt to approach you that way again. But do beware pink-haired lasses in the future."
Taylor needed to work on his mental defenses, but he was hampered by the fact that he'd only owned his brain for about a year and a half. He hadn't grown up with it, and in some ways, the Bilius brain wasn't entirely his. Bilius had some unfortunate mental habits that were hard to break. He wanted to be liked so desperately that a pretty smile and enchanted brassiere were enough to make him forget his guard entirely. His reaction to her perfidy was just as out of control. He purposely took her close to the point of death. Old Taylor wouldn't have let the girl get so far with her probing, and he would have sent her away with stinging nettles or a feeling of doom instead of sucking her dry like a wedge of orange. Sometimes, magicians couldn't recover from close calls like that, and she seemed too young to kill just for following her family's orders.
His Bilius brain also treated momentary setbacks like they were the end of everything. And he kept insisting on writing Father letters. Terrible, cringey, approval-seeking letters that needed extensive editing, even though the major never wrote back. The hope that drove those missives was going to get crushed, but maybe it was for the best. Whatever affection he found in this world would have to be on his terms, built over time in the face of all his complications. It was pointless to keep hoping for the return of a penitent, loving father.
There's still a chance, said the Bilius brain. Father could see my talents and realize he was wrong to abandon me. We could still be family.
"Out of curiosity, how did you finish Bennet last night? We never saw you come down, and she didn't look hurt."
"I've been practicing camouflage magic. I'm not very good, but it's easier in the dark. I got her with a Stunning Bolt at close range. With all the random skills she was setting off, that old catkin won't know what I did. He'll assume I used a standard sleep spell. At most, he might think I have some kind of innate touch attack."
Jane sounded skeptical. "We'll see. For now, put it out of your mind. We have one more mission before we leave Bostkirk."
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The carriage turned off Green Field onto a side street. It slowed as it reached a block taken up entirely by a single storefront, with books in every window. Tables lined the sidewalk, covered entirely in books, most of them with their spines up for easy browsing. Through the windows, Taylor could see two floors of books in close-packed shelves.
His heart beat faster than it had for the Augberg girl, who was promptly forgotten in the face of promised treasures. He was on his feet, mask pressed to the glass. "Do you mean it?"
"Welcome to Hadresham's Second Word, the best deal in the city and the largest used bookstore outside of the imperial capital. Aside from your occasional whines and excessive sass toward a certain sandwich thief, your performance was acceptable. Consider this a reward. We have two hours."
Jane was right. Used books were the best deal by far. He loved the smell of the store, its neglected charges waiting for the day someone picked them to take home. There was a healer's school in Bostkirk, meaning a healthy trade in second-hand medical texts. He picked up books on beastkin and dwarf anatomy, herbs, and potions. He found a tome of rare diseases with gruesomely colorful illustrations. He dug up an intriguing volume called The Butcher's Basic Beastiary with fold-out diagrams of twenty kinds of monsters. Five minutes with Basic Beastiary taught him he didn't have the skills or vocabulary to make the best use of it, but that was a problem for another day.
To the educational stack, he added two classic novels, another book of poetry by Rozemarijn, sheet music for popular songs, a text on music so he could learn to read the sheet music, and a recent fiction that looked like it had been read exactly one time. There were several copies of that same book available, so the story was either very good or very bad.
He built his pile of new-to-Taylor books one armful at a time and staged them near the front of the store, and dove back into the shelves to dig up more. This was such a common practice that staging tables were provided and conveniently divided into sections with white lines. A sign informed customers it was rude to peruse a stranger's stack.
"That is not appropriate," said Jane when reviewing his intended purchases, as she removed the nearly-new copy of Lady Hazel's Wolf from his stack. "Not even close." She added the book to her growing pile.
"But it's fine for you? How is that fair?"
"Because it is. You'll understand when you're older."
"How much older?"
She looked him up and down. "Give it ten years, at least."
"Miss Jane! I didn't know you indulged in tawdry tales."
She did not smile or blush. "Even scholars need more than dry facts to make a life. If you have the time to judge, you have the time to shop for books." She consulted her pocket watch. "Tick tock, Bilius."
When they paid for their purchases, Jane discovered her blocky attaché could only fit half her pile, as she was traveling with a library already stuffed inside. Taylor had two separate, magically expanded compartments in his new wyvern skin satchel, so he was happy to lend her some space.
On the fast coach home, they put up the paper divider and stacked books wherever convenient, so they could reach what they wanted on a whim. They spent most of their time reading. When they slept, books were their pillows and their eye masks. The miles sped past in a pleasant haze of new discovery.
Soon they'd be home, and Taylor's work as Legate Mourne would begin.