Page 91 of A Conduit of Light
“It’sthe third door on the left, love,”Liainstructed, wrist deep into dough that would become the evening’s bread at dinner.
Karushad not wandered this far down into the servants’ quarters and took her time.Shehappened upon a long corridor, black stone illuminated by sconces on the wall, flame flickering loudly.Shefound the third door on the left easily enough, but kept walking, counting nine in total on each side of the hallway, which ended in a tenth, larger door.
Backtrackingto the third on what was now her right, she knocked. “Sylva?Areyou there?”
Thedoor opened in a flash, andSylvawas before her. “Iseverything alright?BaronHeimlen—”
“Heis asking for you in his rooms.Today’straining was hard on him.”
“Oh,by theBlightress,Ithought you’d have worse news for me.I’llattend him right away.”
Sheleft as quickly as she had opened the door, hurrying off down the hallway with not even a glance back atKarus.
Shemoved to close the door, but stopped, thinking.
Itwould be wrong, wouldn’t it?Tosearch her room for the phrase needed to openBaronHeimlen’sstudy?
ShelikedSylva.Although, what she saw inBaronHeimlenwas currently a great mystery.Butthat didn’t mean she deserved to have her room ransacked by a channeler on a mission.
Sighing, she began to close the door, taking the small opportunity to glance around the room.Therewas a window near the simple bed, and upon the sill was a short pot, a red flower blooming in its soil.Hereyes glanced to the open book on the small desk in the corner, the quill spilling its ink all over the page.
Sylvamust have been writing whenKarushad knocked and, figuring it wouldn’t hurt, she moved into the room to put the quill back in its pot to save the page from complete ruin.
Shetried not to look down at the contents of the journal, but that was something her curiosity would never allow.
Amongthe pages that were lying open were tally marks.Tallymarks and dates.Thewords ‘ForFelgren’were sprawled in elegant script across the top.Onewas dated for the current day with a single mark underneath.Theother, dated the day previous, had three.
Sheflipped back a few pages, convincing herself she was just trying to understand.There, two weeks ago, five tally marks and four the day before—‘ForFelgren’again scripted along the top of each page.
WhatwasSylvatracking and why?
Sheheld the current ink blotted page with one hand and flipped back to the beginning of the book.
Thedate on the first page was six months ago whenKarushad still beenAsh’Arahand had just learned about theBlight.Onaverage, it seemed there were about two tally marks a day.Butas she continued to flip through the book, the marks rose in number each day, once even having as much as seven.
Whatwas ‘ForFelgren’?Therewas no clear explanation for it.Nonotes on what she could be tracking.Shelooked to the small bookcase in the room to the right of the desk and saw that there were more journals.Moredates and tally marks filling them up, more of that beautiful script—ForFelgren,ForFelgren.
Flippingthrough, she found the journal previous to the current and saw that it was dated near the time theBlackFeverclaimed its first victim.Tentally marks on that day with a note written below—Healmost died.
Karusfrowned with even more questions streaming through her.
Whohad almost died?Andfrom what?
Sheshut the book in frustration, placing it back on the shelf, fixing the desk to look as if it had not been touched, even placing the quill back on the ink-stained page.Whatevershe was tracking,Karusdid not wantSylvato know she had seen and she turned to leave.
Aneerie chill crept through her veins, and suddenly, like all intuition starts, she had the uncanny feeling that sheknew.
Sheclosed the door quietly behind her and moved with the swiftness of the one and only,BaronRevich.
Shejust hoped they were all there inBaronHeimlen’srooms, so that she had a reason to be there, too.
Forshe suspected she now knew the phrase that would allow her to enter his locked study.Allshe needed was the key.
* * *
Herarrivalat the massive painting left her out of breath and she stopped to calm her chest, adjusting herself to look the part of a concerned channeler over her dearBaron’sailment.
Smoothingher skirts and tucking her braided hair back into the strands that wove around her head, she knocked loudly on the door behind the painting.
