Crystal Storm
Page 41

“Selia Damora,” she cooed in the candlelight, her tone much gentler than when she’d first entered the inn. “My sweet goddess above, how I have missed you!”
The two women rushed to each other and embraced.
“Shall I summon the others?” Magnus asked. The sooner his grandmother got what she needed from this woman, the sooner they could leave this place.
“No, this doesn’t require a group discussion,” Selia said without tearing her gaze away from her friend. “I have missed you as well, Dariah.”
“Where have you been all this time? I lost count of how many years had passed so long ago.”
“All that matters is that I’m here now. Frankly, I’m a little surprised you’re still in Basilia after all this time.”
“I could never give up the profits of my tavern—each year is better than the last. So many sailors with coin to spend and thirst to quench.”
“Many thirsts, I’m sure.”
Dariah winked. “Exactly.” She turned toward Magnus. “And who is this young man?”
“This is my grandson, Magnus. Magnus, this is my friend Dariah Gallo.”
“A pleasure.” Magnus forced the best smile he could onto his face, but he knew it would look more like a grimace.
“Oh, my. Your grandson has grown so very tall and handsome.”
Selia smiled. “Yes, grandsons sometimes do that by the time they reach eighteen.”
Dariah swept her wrinkled gaze over the length of him. “If I were younger . . .”
“If you were younger, you would have to fight his pretty young wife for his attentions.”
Dariah laughed. “And perhaps I’d win.”
Magnus suddenly longed to return to the book about Paelsian wine.
Selia joined her friend in her laughter, then once again adopted a serious but good-natured tone. “I haven’t only come to Basilia for a reconnection between old friends. I need information on how to acquire the bloodstone.”
Dariah raised her eyebrows. “Goodness, Selia, you waste no time.”
“I have no time to waste. My power has faded over the years, and my son is dying.”
In the stretch of silence that followed, Magnus stayed quiet. This stone, if it was real, sounded like something that could aid him in increasing his power, like the Kindred.
Selia drew Dariah over toward the bookshelf. She motioned for her to sit down on a wooden bench next to her, then took the other witch’s hands in hers. “There is no choice. I need it.”
“You know I don’t have it.”
“No. But you know who does.”
Dariah shook her head. “I can’t do this.”
“I’m asking you to contact him—I know you can find him. He needs to arrive as quickly as possible.”
A thousand questions prodded at Magnus, but he stayed silent, listening.
Power like this potentially delivered right into his very hands. It sounded much simpler than the complicated process of finding the Kindred.
The witch’s expression darkened. “He’ll never let you have it, not even for a moment.”
Selia’s grip on her friend’s hands tightened. “Let me handle him when he gets here.”
“I don’t know . . .”
Selia’s eyes narrowed. “I know it’s been a very long time, but I feel I must mention the favor you owe me. A favor you promised to repay in full.”
Dariah looked down at the floor.
Magnus watched, barely breathing. The witch slowly looked up again, her face pale. She nodded with a small jerk of her head. “It will take time to draw him here.”
“He has three days. Will that be a problem?”
The witch’s jaw tensed as she rose to her feet. “No.”
“Thank you.” Selia stood and kissed Dariah on both of her cheeks. “I knew you would help me.”
The smile of their greeting was now nothing more than a memory. “I will alert you the moment he arrives.”
Dariah didn’t linger—with a last look at Selia and Magnus, she left the inn.
“Well,” Magnus said after all had gone silent again. “That must have been quite the favor you did for your friend.”
“It was.” Selia glanced at Magnus, a small smile on her lips. “I shall now check on your father. His health is my only concern right now. Soon, when my magic is restored and he is well again, we can face the other obstacles that stand in our way.”
“I will strive for patience,” Magnus said, knowing he would surely fail at this.
By now, night had fallen, and Magnus retired to his small private room. It had a full-size bed rather than the unacceptable cots in the communal sleeping area down the hall. The window gave him a second-floor view of the street outside, lit with lanterns and, even after nightfall, busy with citizens and visitors to the city.
There was a soft knock at his door. “Enter,” Magnus said, knowing it could only be one of the four people with whom he’d traveled to Paelsia.
The door opened slowly, and as the visitor revealed herself, Magnus’s heart began to thud hard against his chest. Cleo peered in at him.
He stood up and met her in the doorway. “My grandmother’s friend was here.”
“Already?” Her brows raised. “And?”
“And . . .” He shook his head. “It seems that we are forced to wait here for three days.”
“She can get the bloodstone, though?”