Scent of Magic
Page 79

The tribespeople he passed gawked and scowled, but he ignored them. Danny lived in a narrow two-story row house in the middle of the street. Unlike dozens of others, this town had survived the plague with little damage. The Krakowans hadn’t burned down the homes of the plague victims in panic. Living so close to the border, they tended to be rather unflappable.
Kerrick didn’t bother knocking on the door. He pushed it open and called Danny’s name, startling a group of boys in the living room. Some jumped to their feet, while others remained rooted in place, gaping at him. Danny wasn’t among them. He questioned the boys, and they told him Danny had been spending all his time at the library. He managed to get directions before their guardian bustled in from another room and shooed him out.
His tails followed him across town, but he didn’t care. It felt good to be moving. He wished he could get some real exercise. What would the warriors do if he joined one of their practice sessions? With their expert skills on the battlefield, it stood to reason that they trained constantly.
Or was that part of their magic? Did they all possess magic, or only Noak? There had been no record of anyone else with his ice magic in the Fifteen Realms. But he was beginning to distrust the history books. Kerrick wondered if Noak’s father or sister also possessed powers. And, if so, what would they be?
Danny sat at a table just inside the library’s entrance. Bent over an open book and making notes in another, Danny didn’t even glance up when Kerrick entered. Rows of full bookcases extended to the back of the room and along the walls. Kerrick moved closer and read the titles, impressed by the extent of topics. His father would have been ecstatic by the collection and would have badgered the poor librarian for hours. Kerrick glanced around, but no one else occupied the other tables and reading chairs. Then he remembered the tribes didn’t read words.
Kerrick returned to Danny’s table and cleared his throat. The boy jerked at the sound but then relaxed.
“They let you out?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I was concerned about you,” Kerrick said.
“Oh. Sorry, I found these great books about herbs and medicines.” He gestured to the piles on his table. “They were brought here after the town’s healer died of the plague. And there are some of his journals in here, too. I guess I just lost track of time.”
“Does that mean you decided to help them?”
Danny met his gaze. “Yes. It was an easy choice once I thought about it.” He tapped his stylus on the book he’d been writing in. “Well, once I considered what Avry would have done. She healed Tohon’s soldiers. And they’re probably attacking Estrid’s army right now.”
“True, but she was his prisoner at the time and had to cooperate.” A horrible situation—it had taken all of his willpower not to storm Tohon’s castle and rescue her before she could find and heal Ryne.
“But Tohon didn’t care about his wounded soldiers. To him, they are just as useful dead. Avry could have made a token effort, but she didn’t. She cared, and I do, too.”
And her patients had thanked her by pretending to be asleep when Kerrick and Loren had finally reached her. He couldn’t call it a rescue since she’d stayed behind after they had escaped with Ryne. It had been a miserable ten days, but she’d broken out on her own and had saved Danny and Zila from Tohon.
“Can you cure them?” Kerrick asked.
“I thought so, but the plant Avry mentions in her journal doesn’t grow this far north.” Danny pointed to a drawing of a plant with large heart-shaped leaves. “So I’m trying to find another that will work as well before the disease spreads.”
“Any luck?”
“Not yet, but there are plenty more books to look through.”
“Want help?”
Danny beamed at him in relief, which meant the boy had been worried Kerrick would object to his decision.
“Sure.” Danny explained the specific healing properties he was looking for.
Kerrick pulled a book off a pile and settled next to Danny. They worked for a while in silence, but it didn’t take long for Noak to enter the library with an equally tall man by his side and a few guards behind him.
Disgust creased the stranger’s sharp face. He resembled a bird of prey with his hooked nose and his blond hair hanging loose like feathers over his wide shoulders. He wore a warrior’s uniform and held his dadao at the ready. The powerful muscles along his long arms were as thick as Quain’s. Kerrick stood and braced for trouble.
“It is just as I expected,” Noak said to the man. “He is with the boy.”
“So they can conspire against us,” he snapped.
No one else had taken that tone with Noak except his father, so this must be the Jevnaker leader, Olave. His bright blue gaze swept Kerrick with contempt.
“He keeps his promise,” Noak said.
“To lull you.” He pointed the sword at the books. “We can’t read that. He’s probably going to poison us all.”
“I don’t have to,” Kerrick said.
Olave swung the blade’s tip toward him. “Explain.”
Kerrick glanced at Noak as if seeking his permission just to anger Olave. When Noak nodded, he said, “The sickness will kill you all. Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.”
With a cry, Olave lunged at him. Kerrick sidestepped the thrust and grabbed a chair just in time to block the next attack. The dadao was primarily a chopping weapon, and Olave hacked the wooden chair to pieces as Kerrick dodged and ducked.