Online Book Reader

Home Category

Realms of Valor - James Lowder [109]

By Root 708 0
make something look like something else, make sounds appear out of silence, or silence something noisy. My magic doesn't have any real substance to it. I'm sorry.“ He chewed his lower lip. ”What about your magic?“ ”I'm a druid,“ Galvin noted flatly. ”I can't do that sort of magic either.“ ”But you talk to Elias. And I've seen you talk to plants and rocks,“ Drollo stammered. ”I don't see how those skills are going to help us here.“ Drollo blanched. ”Then what are we going to do?“ ”We're going to find her the old-fashioned way, by searching for her,“ Galvin sighed. ”You start looking over there.“ He indicated the section of the room blanketed in sheafs of parchment. ”I've looked there. I think I've looked everywhere,“ Drollo moaned. ”This is my fault.“ The druid pointed again, and the old man complied, shuffling toward the parchment mound. Drollo began shuting through the mass. ”Isabelle!“ he called. Unsurprisingly, no one answered. An hour later the druid was certain every inch of the room had been searched. There was no sign of a little girl. Frustrated and sneezing, Galvin strode from the room and nearly bumped into a pile of crates in the hallway. ”What's in all of these?“ he asked. The old man pursed his lips. ”Oh, things I've collected through the years. I've forgotten what's in most of them. You'd have to look at the labels. What room shall we try next?" The druid continued to stare, dumbfounded, at the mounds of boxes and piles of books. If he were outdoors looking for someone, he would track them like a hunter tracks an animal. Broken branches, muddy footprints, flattened grass,

and other clues would point the way. Perhaps, Galvin thought, I was wrong about my magic, especially if I treat this collection of junk like the wilderness. The druid looked around, searching for disturbed patches of webbing. His eyes rested on the base of a large crate. There, nearly hidden by the shadows, a mouse was tugging a pale pink ribbon into a hole. Galvin knelt and began squeaking to the mouse, but the little rodent was determined in its task and ignored the druid. Reaching forward, Galvin snatched the ribbon and squeaked again. The mouse shuddered with fear, wriggled its nose, and darted into the hole. Galvin rubbed his thumb across the silk ribbon, still shiny and new. “Isabelle's?” he asked. The old man looked at the ribbon, then nodded slowly. “I'm tracking her,” the druid said simply. “Let's try the next floor.” Only a pathway at the center of the stairs to the upper floors was clear of debris. An accumulation of junk rested against each banister. Galvin scanned the collection of chair legs and discarded oil lamps, pausing only when he spied a brass vase precariously poised on a step halfway up. He carefully picked his way through the hodgepodge and knelt by the vase. Elias darted under Calvin's arm and sniffed it, black, beady eyes reflecting warmly in the curved surface. The weasel chartered uneasily. “Yes, it's unusual,” the druid answered. “What?” Drollo huffed as he climbed the stairs, a thick candle in his right hand. “You found something?” Grasping the vase at the rim, the druid turned and sat on the step to face the old man. “This vase,” Galvin began. “It's peculiar.” Drollo arched his eyebrows. “Look at my collection later, Galvin. My granddaughter is more important than a hunk of brass.” “Don't you see?” the druid continued. “It's out of place. It's clean. There's not a spot of dirt anywhere on it.” The old man shook his head. “It's not out of place. It's new. I got that a few days ago. It was in a shipment from Callidyrr.” He paused for a moment, then spoke more rapidly. “A shipment I opened in my study! Galvin, I didn't put that vase here.” “Isabelle might have,” the druid surmised. Placing the vase back on the step, he stood, pivoted, and sprinted to the landing above. Elias bounded after him, pausing only to glance back at the old man, who followed. On the landing Galvin scrutinized the piles of odds and ends, which were beginning to resemble every other cache of junk in the tower. What would possess a man to

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Online Book Reader