Page 94 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

“Ah. You’re early.” The shadow cast by the sorcerer’s black hood hid his expression. The black stones set in his red and black belt seemed to absorb all light, while the silver hairs in his brown beard glowed white in the moonlight. “Come on. Bring it all in.” He turned and went back inside, his tunics and robe rustling.

The sorcerer had never invited Regulus inside. He recovered from his momentary shock and removed the bulging saddlebags, then followed the sorcerer.

The ground floor consisted of one large circular room. A modest fire burned in a huge stone fireplace across from the door. An ornamental rug covered the entire floor beneath a leather armchair. Two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stood on either side of the fireplace, filled with leather-bound tomes and stark white human skulls. The sorcerer headed up a spiral staircase to the right of the door.

“Close the door,” he called as he disappeared around a curve. Regulus nudged the door closed with his boot and followed.

They passed two more open circular rooms as the staircase spiraled around the outside of the tower. Regulus peeked through the open doorways as they passed. One had several desks, some covered with open books, others with large pieces of parchment. Another fire crackled in the fireplace behind a desk covered in rocks and gemstones of various sizes and colors. The next room contained a massive four-poster bed, a small writing desk, and a closet. Were any clothes in the closet? He’d never seen the sorcerer wear anything other than the layered black and red tunics and robes he wore now. None of the rooms had windows.

The staircase opened into the final room at the top of the tower. A long table with a workbench sat in the middle of the room. Four gold rods were laid end-to-end on the table. He recognized the one that widened at the top as the first thing the sorcerer had made him retrieve. The sight of it gave him flashbacks to the first time he had discovered he couldn’t die. A minotaur had impaled him on a spear. Right through his chest. He recognized two of the other three pieces as well with a sickening twist of his stomach. He’d killed a monk who wouldn’t get out of way for one of them. Not on purpose. He’d tossed him aside, still adjusting to his new strength, and the man’s head had cracked open on the stone wall of the monastery. The man’s vacant eyes still haunted him.

Positioned just above the rods lay the strange hollow gold egg he had taken from the dragon’s lair. As he looked at the five pieces positioned in a line, he realized they belonged together. They formed a staff. But the sorcerer hadn’t forged them back together.

Regulus looked around as the sorcerer motioned him inside. A bronze mirror identical to the one locked in his chest hung on the wall near the fireplace. Light flickered from the fire and from numerous candelabras on the walls around the room. Smaller desks were placed around the edges of the room, covered in various flora in glass jars. A large, shallow bronze bowl sat on one of the tables. The sorcerer pushed aside some books piled on another table.

“Unpack it all here so I can examine it,” the sorcerer commanded.

Regulus complied. The flowers came out first and the sorcerer grunted approval. The sorcerer snatched up the neumenet root, inspecting it and muttering to himself while Regulus emptied the bag of shells onto the table. Apparently satisfied, the sorcerer set the root next to the flowers. He checked the shells while Regulus set the silver circlet on the table.

“Hm.” The sorcerer picked up the circlet. His hands glowed with green light and the circlet made a quiet thrumming sound. “Pure. Good.” He put the circlet down and Regulus exhaled in relief. “And the blood?”

Regulus handed him the vial. “From my squire. A good young man who has never taken a life. An innocent if I ever met one.”

“Excellent.” The sorcerer removed the stopper and peered inside. “Should be enough.”

“Will that be all, my lord?” Regulus stepped back from the table.

“For now.” The sorcerer replaced the stopper and set it next to the other ingredients.

Regulus clutched the saddlebag. Nothing but dried venison, a bit of rope, and a spare dagger left in it now. “And...my debt?”

“You annoy me with your constant nagging.” The sorcerer pursed his lips. “I’d think you would be more grateful. I made you the strongest, fastest man in Monparth, possibly in the world. And immortal. Yet you can’t wait to give it up.”

I want to be free.“You mentioned this,” he indicated the ingredients, “would get me close.”

“Fine.” The sorcerer waved his hand. “One or two more tasks, and your debt will be paid in full. I’m close now.” He looked away, and Regulus followed his gaze to the separated staff on the table in the center of the room. “So close I can taste it. This time, I won’t fail.”

The sorcerer looked back to Regulus. “I’ll be needing you soon. You must be prepared to act quickly when the time comes. Now go.” He waved his hands like he was shooing away a small child. “Your presence irritates me.”

Then why trick me into being your slave in the first place!But Regulus turned and left.

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