Page 15 of Aubade Rising
“Dervla mentioned you are something of a geologist and that you owe her a favour.” I glance around, expecting to see some evidence on the shelves to validate this assumption. Perhaps a collection of rare rocks or gemstones but the room is bare – tasteful but minimalist.
I turn back to see him covering his surprise at my question.
“Well, I wouldn’t call myself that exactly…”
Embarrassed, cheeks flushing at Dervla’s mistake, I go to stand.
“Hold on, I didn’t say I couldn’t help. If Dervla is calling in her favour then I’m bound to assist.” He performs a slight bow, before turning to walk around the desk and takes a seat.
“I’m a purveyor of rare and exclusive goods, most of which happen to be rare gemstones or minerals. I take on very few assignments and have very specific payment terms.”
Confusion must be evident on my face as he continues. “I amthe complement to Dervla, her business counterpart. There’s not much we can’t source between us although she’s never sent me one of her people before. Where has she been hiding you?”
“I’m an academic and she sponsors my research. I’m not involved in her business interests.”
He startles briefly, casting his eyes up and down, evaluating me. But before I question him, he strides across the room, footsteps silenced by the expensive carpet. “Dervla runs the largest and most successful acquisitions business in Trevesiga. She supplies ships, grain, iron, weapons. Whatever you need, Dervla delivers,” he explains. “I am more nuanced. I cater to unique requests. Where you need something a little more special, a little more discreet.” He turns, capturing me with a direct stare. “I assume that’s what you’ve come here for?”
“I’m looking for a mineral, with a very specific set of properties,” I venture.
He pauses, waiting for more information and I debate how much to reveal. Something about the crafty glint in his eye tells me he wouldn’t be opposed to one or two shadier deals if the payment was right. I think that’s what Dervla alluded to when she said he would be able to find what we need. She must be getting desperate.
“I can give you a list of requirements that the mineral will need to have...”
He scoffs, “Well at least that’s something. I wouldn’t want to be hunting completely blind now, would I?”
I shrug, a little out of my depth.
“I suppose Dervla has quite an urgent need for this mysterious item?” I nod and he chuckles.
“Alright, consider me intrigued. I do love a challenge.” His grin widens. “Tell Dervla to consider her favour fulfilled. You can leave me with the list of properties on your way out. I’ll contact you when I have news.” I watch his eyes flicker to thebookshelves lining the hallway as he ushers me out of his house and back into the charge of my disgruntled escort.
Chapter 14
I despise failure. My research: learning the Gallos. I’ve been surrounded by its constant presence for the last fortnight and it’s making me cranky. I’ve combed the palace library for references, even roping Haelyn in to help. She found a few texts but they all say the same thing: visualise your magic and draw it out of your body. That’s it. So simple. Haelyn has begun to master it after only a few sessions. She’s as keen as I am to narrow the gap between us and the Mordros. Seeing her sitting calmly in the library with a small tornado swirling in front of her is infuriating.
Today, I’ve taken a different approach, sequestering myself in my laboratory, determined to make some progress. I sit cross-legged on the cold floor and close my eyes. That little acorn of light sitting in my chest, perks up at being noticed, itching to be used. It’s a clear day for once. There’s no need to keep my magic locked away when I can replenish it easily. I need to focus – until I have this under control, my experiments are going nowhere and I’ve had enough of clearing up debris.
The problem I have is not being able to visualise my magic. I never have. The day draws to a close, but nothing is working. Head and back aching, I pick myself off the floor.
As arranged, Diogel waits at the foot of the cliffs, ready to escort me back to the palace. His presence is a comforting constant as I travel back and forth to the islet, braving the rough seas. He guides the ferry skilfully through the currents, avoiding the worst of the eddies. Today, the creases in his forehead are deeper, thick brows furrowed.
“She’s a bad one,” he nods towards the dark clouds gatheringon the horizon. “No doubt about it.” There’s nothing particularly special about the looming clouds approaching but I haven’t grown up on these waters like Diogel, so I’m not about to claim differently. Instead, I hunker further into the ferry’s hull, bracing against the rocking swells and pushing salt spray out of my face.
“Mind if we detour to the city quay? I’d feel better if we help move out the stragglers before she hits.” I try to nod but the motion sends a spasm of nausea through my stomach.
As my ferry approaches the quay, Diogel’s glance warns me not to disembark. I half-smile; I’m not tempted to sneak into the city alone tonight. And if I was, I’d find a way to do it without implicating him.
While I wait for the other passengers to embark, I notice the river level has dropped despite the churning waves. It’s a sign the inland glacial lakes are frozen, a precursor to the devastating spring floods. When the lakes melt, the river swells. A ritual deluge collides with the ocean tides, causing lethal currents to flood the lower city.
Everyone living and working close to the harbour evacuates if they can, staying in taverns or with family closer to the palace, praying they will have a home to return to. Of course, the Mordros are not impacted, closeted safely in their family townhouses, high above the tidal line. I look up to that district in disgust. None of them open their doors or provide sanctuary each year, despite having room to spare. This year I will be one of them, safely ensconced behind the palace walls. That thought sobers me.
The final passengers board and a shadow looms over me. Captain Devath appears at my shoulder, gesturing to take the empty seat next to mine.
He folds awkwardly into the compact space, legs taking up half of the central aisle. I concentrate on ignoring the pressure ofhis thigh pressed into mine and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke that surrounds him.
His stare travels from my shoes to my windswept hair, likely finding me lacking in some way. For once, he makes no comment. I flinch when my stomach makes an unnaturally loud gurgle, wrapping my arms tightly round my waist, leaving no doubt the noise came from me.
Laughter explodes from the Captain, which turns into a coughing fit, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes at my mortification.
