Vassal by Sterling D'Este (ebook reader computer TXT) 📕

up and rummaged through them in a feverish sort of abandon, tossing books he didn’t need into haphazard piles until finally, an unimpressive, soft leather journal lay nestled in his hand. Etienne unceremoniously shoved a collection of scrolls out of his seat and sat back down just as the sound of light footsteps reached him from the entrance to the catacombs. He ran a hand back through his hair in annoyance, a feeling that would have remained had just about anyone else stepped into view.

“Alphonse!” he said. “I’ve found it, or nearly. I know I have—if only one of these self-important, conniving, political twits would name the book in their gods-damned essays!” He stopped breathlessly and opened the little journal, dropping it onto the table in the spot Seyrès’s tome had previously held.

❀

Alphonse took one look at Etienne’s manic expression and shook her head. How long had he been down here? Hours? Days? When was the last time he had eaten? Slept?

“Here,” she murmured, soft and soothing, as she handed Etienne the tea and the baked good, gesturing with a flip of her wrist that he should drink and eat. A small, amused smile traced her mouth. She had always found Etienne’s enthusiasm endearing rather than tiresome, though he could ramble at times, and often at length.

And his preferred reading material was beyond dry.

Her gaze flickered down to the journal that was eliciting so much excitement now—a dead student’s personal mumblings. Of course, he’d care about such things.

Reaching for the journal, Alphonse felt the delicate condition of the pages and winced. If Etienne were going to read this, he’d have to be so very careful. Exercising such precise care would set her teeth on edge, gently turning each page, touching as little as possible.

Scholars.

“And once you have found it, as I know you will… Then what?”

Etienne set down the porcelain cup with a clatter, swallowing a mouthful of hot tea. “Then what?

“Alphonse, this could reveal the fate of the Old Gods. It could shed light on the war with, and subsequent fall of, Rhosan. We’re talking about the chance to understand exactly how the world we live in came to be, and—can you imagine?—there might be actual magic of the Old Gods contained within these pages.” Etienne looked up at Alphonse, clenching a fistful of his hair as though willing her to see just how much more important this was than little things like meals and sleep. “We could change magic. Change it completely.”

“I rather like magic how it is…” She nudged the pastry, half-forgotten, in a silent reminder that he should eat. The Old Gods could wait a few more minutes.

“The better we understand magic, the more we can do with it,” Etienne explained, eyeing the offending pastry.

“So this journal is… How old? Was the student alive during the time of those Gods?” A frightening thought. From what Etienne had told Alphonse, the Old Gods were quite brutal and barbaric in their ways. What would it have been like to live amongst them?

Terrifying, no doubt.

The scholar picked up the pastry, took a large bite of flaky dough, and washed it down with tea. “No, Léger lived some hundred years after the Old Gods’ fall,” he said with a slight wave of his hand. “From what I can tell, the years right after the fall of the Gods were marked by turmoil. Few writings survived from then, but Léger and his mentor claim to have found one, though neither bothered to write the damn title down.”

Etienne took another bite of pastry and chewed angrily, glaring at the book, though he seemed to remember his manners a bit more readily with food in his system. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, lifting the roll.

“Mm?” She had been gazing at the old journals, wondering if that apprentice, all those years ago, had ever thought for one moment that someone like Etienne would be scouring his entries like a mad man, that their musings would be intriguing enough to devote time to.

Alphonse could hardly imagine some healer in the future doing just that to her journals.

“Of course,” she nodded in response to his appreciation. As vague as it was.

She and Etienne had been in all the same beginning classes at the School of Magics, entering the academy together at age eleven. Neither were from Dailion, and both had been scorned by the local city children who had grown up knowing they would attend the coveted school.

Etienne had been easy to befriend, his companionship undemanding on a shy farm girl like Alphonse, as they partnered up for practice in Herb Lore, Spell Casting, and Mage Law. Even when they divided into separate classes, she for healing and Etienne for the more obscure and powerful learnings of the occult, they had remained close. Almost as brother and sister for the last nine years.

Tugging at the sheer veil she had donned when her monthly courses had arrived at fourteen, Alphonse settled one hand delicately on the journal in question. “I’m excited about this news, Etienne, I really am.” She slid the journal slightly closer to herself, away from him. “I do have to wonder though… Have you studied for your Laws of Practical Transformation Exam? It’s in three days…” Her sweet voice was bordering on nervous now.

Etienne placed his hand on the journal to stop Alphonse from moving it farther away and looked up at her, smiling easily. “That’s days away,” he said and gently pulled the book back. “Besides, this is for my research presentation. Becoming an apprentice to the masters is so much more important than one test. I’m almost done with the research on this, honest. And then Transformation.”

Etienne rummaged around for a timepiece and opened it with a practiced flick. “You’ve got class soon too, Allee. Though I’m glad you came by. It might have been a while before I remembered to take a break.”

Hesitantly, Alphonse let her fingertips drag off the edge of the journal. There wasn’t much she