Luckborn

Otter burst through the rear door of the library, his breath coming fast as he glanced over his shoulder, scanning the dimly lit alley for any sign of pursuit. The moment he turned back around—too late—he collided full-force with Piper.

The impact sent them both sprawling, and they hit the floor in a tangle of elbows and knees. A sharp oof escaped Otter as he landed on top of Piper, who let out a started yelp.

"Ow," Piper groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "Get off me."

Otter scrambled upright, trying and failing to avoid unfortunate contact with his supervisor. His palm pressed against something soft, and Piper's sharp intake of breath made his stomach drop.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned, his face heating.

She shoved him the rest of the way off and fixed him with a glare as she sat up, brushing dust from her sleeves. "What's got you in such a rush?"

"I saw that man again."

"What man?"

"The one that keeps watching me from the shadows." He'd told all his friends about the mysterious figure already.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Where? Is he outside?"

"I don't think so. Not anymore. I was caught in a whirlwind of… well… paper bits in the courtyard behind Orchard Hall. They all had writing on them, and then I saw him watching me from a rooftop. As soon as I saw him—or it—everything just disappeared."

Piper frowned. "That's weird. What did the papers say?"

"No time like the present. And other similar things."

"Huh. I was just on my way out, but maybe I should report this to Dane. You need to run upstairs. Professor Quisling has been asking for you. Apparently, you're his new favorite research assistant."

Otter grimaced. "More like his glorified note-taker."

Quisling was in his usual alcove on the second floor, books spread out on the table when Otter arrived. Without looking up, the professor said, "Good, you're here. We've got a lot to do."

For the next half an hour, Otter copied down passages from books, consolidating the information and making citations of the sources. It was relatively mindless work and his thoughts kept returning to the messages on the paper. What was the meaning behind them? If this mysterious person wanted to communicate with him, why keep their identity a secret? They didn't seem hostile, so what dd they want?

His thoughts kept going in circles. He had no answers. Only questions.

He was startled when Quisling stood suddenly. "I'll return shortly. Nature calls."

Otter nodded and turned his attention back to his notes. But not for long. As soon as Quisling was out of sight, Otter stood and stretched, working out a kink in his back. After a moment he slid back into his seat and accidentally knocked his quill off the table. He looked on the floor but didn't see it. Muttering to himself, he climbed underneath the table.

Bzzzz.

Luck's Whisper: Active

He found the quill. but that wasn't all. On the opposite side, just under where Quisling had been seated was a small, round stone with symbols etched into it. He grabbed it and scrambled out from under the table, his quill forgotten.

Otter's breath quickened as he turned the stone over in his fingers, tracing the etched symbols with his thumb.

The keystone.

He glanced toward the alcove entrance. No sign of Quisling yet.

The words on those fluttering papers echoed in his mind. Strike while the iron is hot. No time like the present. Fortune favors the bold.

Had that been about this? Was this the moment he was supposed to act?

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He looked at the keystone again. It was warm from being in Quisling's pocket, smooth and weighty in his palm.

Piper and Levi were still tracking instructor schedules, still formulating a plan to steal a keystone. But here it was, literally in his hand. No sneaking, no pickpocketing. Just an accident of fate.

Or was it fate?

His feet carried him to the stairway before he could second-guess himself. The Library was quiet at this hour, most students in their dorms, the occasional scholar working late. No one paid him any mind as he descended the staircase, heart pounding.

He hesitated, gripping the keystone tighter. It should open the door. Or sound an alarm. There was no way to know for sure. Without Quisling here, he might be fried to a crisp before he made it inside.

He could go now. Slip through before anyone noticed. He had no idea when he'd get another chance like this.

He was paralyzed with indecision.

Then he heard Quisling's voice. He was close and coming closer.

Otter ducked behind a nearby bookshelf, the keystone now slick from his sweating palms.

Another voice. This one was also familiar. Piper. Why was she still here? She laughed at some joke.

The two rounded a corner and stopped ten feet from the door. Otter saw the hazy shift in the air as some magic recognized Quisling's presence. The professor was facing away from the door. This was his moment. He could use the distraction to sneak around and slip through unnoticed. It was the perfect opportunity.

Otter tensed, shifting his weight forward—

Then he froze.

A new thought surfaced, breaking through his reckless excitement.

Quisling had brought a book out of the Restricted Section once.

If he had done it before, he could do it again.

What if Otter didn't need to sneak in? What if, instead, he could get Quisling to bring the Restricted Section to him?

The urge to act right now battled against the realization that a smarter option might be available. When one door closes, another opens. That's what the last slip of paper had said. Maybe this was another door opening.

He took a step back.

Then another.

Slowly, quietly, Otter crept back to the stairs and up to the study alcove.

A few moments later, Quisling appeared, whistling to himself.

With great composure, Otter stepped away from the table and held out the keystone. "Professor, I found this under the table when I dropped my quill. Is it yours?"

The scholar glanced at it and then gave Otter a curious, contemplative look. "It must be." He took the stone from Otter's hand and studied it. "Yes, I believe it is. I must have dropped it. Thank you, young man. This would have been a mark on my record if the administration had discovered my carelessness. I do hope you will keep this between us."

"Of course," Otter said, sliding back into his seat at the table.

They fell back into the routine: Quisling finding interesting passages, and Otter transcribing them. From time to time, Otter caught the man watching him.

After a while, Otter finally mustered enough courage to take the next step. "Professor, can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"What kinds of things are kept in the Restricted Section?"

Quisling raised an eyebrow. "Well, all sorts of things. Rare and valuable books too delicate to keep in circulation. First editions, that sort of thing. Then there are the spell books beyond which most students are capable of comprehending. Artifacts that pose a danger for all but the most powerful to handle. And… other things that a young, impressionable mind need not concern themselves with." He smiled.

"Do they keep records of former students in there?"

Quisling laughed. "No. I don't think so. Those are kept in the Hall of Assignments, I believe. Why do you ask?"

Otter perked up. "I think my father went here. Maybe. But he disappeared when I was just a baby. I was hoping I could learn something about his past."

"I see. You should probably ask one of the Overseers about that." Quisling had already returned his attention to the book in front of him.

Not wanting to lose momentum, Otter continued. "Do you think there are any first-hand accounts of the Academy's founders in there?"

Quisling's eyes left the book and locked onto Otter's. "I am quite certain there are." He said nothing more, but his gaze was expectant.

"Well, sir, I've taken quite an interest in Emrys Gale. I've read everything I can find about him, but honestly, there isn't a whole lot in the Library."

"Go on," the professor cooed.

"Well, you brought that book out the other day, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to bring something out I could read. Under your supervision, of course."

Quisling positively beamed. "My boy! What a scholar I've found! Someone so young being interested in our rich history. I'd be delighted to assist you. After we've finished here, of course. I think I can write you a pass to stay out after curfew. Since you are my research assistant and all."

Otter's stomach did a somersault. This was the best news he'd heard in ages.

"Or course, sir—er… Professor."

Quisling spent the next hour poring over the books with a fervent energy Otter hadn't seen before. It reminded him of Levi with a new puzzle box or maze to solve.

By the time his shift was over, Otter's hand was cramped from writing so much.

Quisling told him to stay put and he'd make arrangements with Dane to extend his curfew. Fifteen minutes later, he returned carrying something in a rectangular glass case. He set it down on the table and tossed Otter a pair of white, cotton gloves. "Put those on."

Otter did so and peered at the case. The glass was a dark brown, and he couldn't see its contents.

Quisling sat next to him, instead of across from him. He withdrew his keystone and tapped it against the glass. There was a subtle click and a low hiss, as if air was rushing into or out of the box. Gently, he lifted the top of the case and it slid free, revealing an ancient book inside.

Calling it a book was a stretch. It was clearly a homemade thing. Pages of vellum stitched together and bound with stiff leather. There was no title on the front.

In a hushed whisper, Quisling said, "May I present the personal journal of Emrys Gale himself."

Bzzzz.

Objective Complete: Gain access to the Restricted Section of the Library.