12. Keelan

Chapter 12

Keelan

I had one substantive clue. Maybe two.

The imprint on Albrecht’s hand made my spine tingle. It was important. I could feel it in my bones.

But how?

Why would a run-of-the-mill accountant, no matter the station of his clients, possess an Enchanted item so powerful or important that someone would kill him to possess it?

The only other clue, the receipt, could hardly be described as an investigative break. It was one piece of parchment I plucked out of a stack on a desk. Sure, it was strange. The date for the transaction being listed in the future made little sense. But maybe that’s how things were done if a business person expected a future sale or agreed to a future sale or hoped for a future sale.

What did I know about Merchant business?

The whole thing was frustrating.

But I was a Guardsman. This was what we did. It’s all I ever wanted to do, what I wanted to become.

And here I was, whining about it being difficult instead of pursuing what leads lay before me.

“Snap out of it, rookie,” I chided myself. “What’s next?”

I stared at my notes, at the childlike rendering of the symbol I found imprinted on Albrecht’s hand.

“Follow the trail. That’s what Grieve said. Follow wherever the facts lead.”

I sucked in a deep breath, nodded to myself, as if there was some internal disagreement that had just been settled, then snapped on my cloak and headed for the door. Saltstone was the capital of the greatest mercantile nation in the world. Our Mages were among the most accomplished. My adopted father was one of their leaders.

It was time to use all the tools in my belt.

The stables were a quick jog from my quarters, and the guild was an equally quick ride from the compound. Students studied, walked, chatted, and played in the courtyard. A small clump of them gathered around a wizened old Mage, their class having been moved outdoors so they could enjoy the stunning weather. The instructor called flame and tossed it high into the air, causing his gaggle of geese to jump and scatter. I chuckled, remembering the same Mage performing the same trick—with the same result from my class.

I didn’t recall jumping or flinching.

“Keelan!”

I wheeled about to find Atikus striding toward me with two Mages trailing behind. His smile was broad as he approached and gripped my arms.

“Two visits in one week? How have I grown so lucky?” Atikus’s bony fingers dug into my arms like nails driving into wood.

I glanced beyond Atikus to the Mages who followed him. One looked to be older than the foundations of the guild, his wispy hair billowing wildly in the breeze, while the other was— a woman. I’d taken her for a man from a distance. Now that we stood only a few feet away, I saw she was a rather stout female Mage with slicked-back hair and shoulders as broad as my own.

“You remember Orin and Mira? They have been with the guild for a very long time. You can trust them.”

I didn’t remember either of them, but telling a Mage with perfect memory how I’d forgotten two of his friends wasn’t on my day’s agenda. He would never understand.

“I need a little more help with my case. Mind if we walk to the far side where we won’t be overheard?”

“What kind of help?” Atikus asked.

“There’s a symbol I need you to look at, tell me what it means. I’m fairly certain it’s magical.”

The old man’s brows rose as he clucked his tongue.

“The plot thickens,” he said, then turned toward Orin. “Would you mind silencing the area?”

Orin nodded, closed his eyes, then opened them and nodded again.

“We should be able to speak freely now,” Atikus said. “Orin is quite effective at maintaining privacy.”

“And Mira?” I asked, trying not to stare at her blocky features.

“She happens to be our resident symbologist.”

“My lucky day,” I deadpanned, then reached into my cloak to produce my notepad. “You’ll have to forgive the drawing. My hands were made for a sword, not a quill.”

I flipped to the page with my sketch and turned it around so they could study it right side up.

Atikus and Orin gave it a cursory glance, but Mira stepped forward, bending down to get a closer look than my artwork likely deserved.

“A Seal,” Mira muttered before reaching down to trace the lines of ink with one finger. Her voice grated like stone against stone but held wonder as she spoke. “A powerful containment.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t recall us covering Seals in the Academy. What does that mean?” I asked.

Mira looked to Atikus. Receiving a nod, she turned back toward me to explain.

“A Seal is one half of a partnership. A twin, you might say.”

I waited for more, but she stepped back, as if her explanation cleared everything up.

“All right. It’s a twin. What does it do? And what would the other twin be?”

Mira shrugged. “The other twin could be anything: a safe, a lockbox, a satchel or bag, even a book, whatever someone wanted to lock.”

My eyes widened. “This is a key?”

“That is a child’s explanation, but good enough, I suppose.” The skin of Mira’s eyes wrinkled with amusement. “As for what the key unlocks, your guess is as good as mine. Seals are rare enough. There are only a few Enchanters in all of Melucia skilled enough to create one.”

“Really?” I thought something so useful would be more commonplace.

Mira nodded. “The Triad possesses Seals, protecting the statecraft of the nation. A few of the most wealthy lords likely have one, possibly two.”

“So few?”

She shrugged. “Even with great wealth, there are only so many Enchanters. Factor in the elements needed for the Enchantment, and you might be surprised any existed at all.”

“So, a Seal would be worth stealing?”

All three Mages chuckled.

Mira turned to Atikus. “Your boy has a way with understatement.”

“Clearly,” Atikus agreed, but not unkindly. “Does that help?”

I thought a moment, trying to wrap my head around something so rare, so valuable, in the hands of my common accountant. The man wasn’t poor, but he was far from wealthy and nowhere near powerful. It didn’t make any sense.

“What would it pair with?” I thought aloud. “Wait. You said a book.”

Mira’s eyes scrunched. “Yes, I said that was one possibility, but there is no way to know from your sketch what the twin might be.”

“But it could be a book? Say, a ledger?”

She shrugged, as if I’d just said the sky was above us.

“Are you sure your ledger was just a book of numbers?” Atikus asked.

I scratched my jaw. “No. Albrecht wouldn’t say what was in it, only that powerful people would be angry if it fell into the wrong hands.”

“If you had the Enchanted item, we could likely trace it back to its twin. With only a drawing of its lines, there is little we can do,” Mira said, an apology mixed with dismissal threading her words. She had given me all she could and was ready to resume her day.

I closed my notepad and shoved it back inside my cloak.

“Thank you for taking a look.” I hadn’t meant to let dejection slip through, but Atikus’s claw returning to my arm made me realize how pitiful my words must’ve sounded.

“Keep searching. You always had a powerful mind, son,” Atikus said, his squeeze building in painful pressure as he tried to reassure me. “Now, these Mages are going to drive me mad if I do not get back to work.”

Atikus reached out and pulled me into an awkward hug, then strode away without so much as a look back over his shoulder. I knew his enormous mind had already shifted toward whatever conundrum the guild had worked up for him.

I scanned the courtyard, hoping to find Declan under his favorite tree, but my brother was nowhere to be found. With nothing left to do at the guild, I retrieved my horse and headed back to the other side of town.