Chapter 6

I was still licking the wounds to my pride after Master Lorget's dressing down three days ago. He made it very clear that the guild frowned on members trying to usurp each other's assignments and that my actions would have unpleasant consequences. They were going to appoint a mentor—no more solo jobs. As awful as that sounded, the worst part of sitting through his lecture was that he seemed so disappointed in me. His anger would have been much easier to bear.

According to Lorget, if I wanted to advance, I was going to have to be the consummate team player for the near term. I was happy enough to cooperate with others, but the idea I would be the junior member and have to follow someone else's direction galled me. My only hope was that I'd be assigned to a master, not a journeyman like Jareth or Gordon. If I had to put up with Jareth's attempts to get in my pants for any length of time, I might accidentally put an arrow through him while on a job. And Gordon was just an idiot.

Now, Lorget had summoned me to a meeting to learn my fate. With a sour taste in my mouth, I dragged myself up the stairs to the directors' conference room. The room was empty, so I stood at the window, staring blankly at pigeons strutting across a neighboring roof, their only concern finding a statue to crap on. I wished I could join them.

After a few moments, the door opened and Lorget entered with a stack of parchment under his arm, followed by Master Alford and Master Dorset. I perked up. Maybe I'd be working directly for one of them and this wouldn't be so bad.

Lorget placed the stack on the polished table in the center of the room and waved to a sideboard next to the window where various bottles and cups were spread. "Ziola, please help yourself to a drink."

I inspected the offerings and poured myself water from a carafe. A glass of wine would have fortified my nerves, but I decided that a clear head was the better option. I sat at the table facing the window and watched the three masters as they poured drinks and chatted amiably amongst themselves.

Master Dorset looked to be in his mid-forties, with tousled chestnut hair, sharp green eyes, and a thin scar along his left cheekbone. His lean frame practically vibrated with barely controlled energy. In contrast, Master Alford exuded a calm confidence. He was bald as a cobblestone and built more solidly than most of the guild members.

The masters casually took seats around the table, appearing in no hurry to begin. I, on the other hand, crossed and recrossed my legs repeatedly and struggled not to tap my nails on the table. After an interminable wait, I heard the door behind me open and footsteps on the carpet as another person entered the room.

I glanced around and my stomach dropped. No, no, no. Please, gods, no.

"Remy, come, sit down," Lorget said with a wide smile.

Remy sauntered in, hands jammed in the pockets of a black vest, looking smug as a cat with cream. He wore black pants that hugged his slim hips and muscled thighs, topped by a pale gray linen shirt open at the throat. The black tips of his hair danced as he moved, but I still couldn't tell if his beard stubble was also sable tipped. I would need to be closer to know for sure.

Not that I had any intention of being closer to him than I was right now. And I most assuredly had not noticed the cut of his trousers. I had a lot to accomplish over the next few years, and men—especially conceited prima donnas—were not part of the agenda.

His brows shot up when he noticed me, but he said nothing and proceeded to ignore me. Alford and Dorset appeared ridiculously pleased to see him. They smiled, joked, and clapped him on the back. The good old boys at work. In the circus, the men got a bigger share of the intake, even though the female performers were just as popular. Maybe more so. I sighed inwardly. Everywhere was the same.

When Remy finally settled into a chair, Lorget tapped the pile of parchment in front of him and glanced around the table. "I think you all know each other, even if some of you haven't been formally introduced." His eyes glinted with amusement before growing sober. "We have received some disturbing information about an artifact that everyone assumed destroyed hundreds of years ago."

I leaned forward with interest and noticed that Remy's gaze sharpened on Lorget. Neither Alford nor Dorset reacted, so I assumed they already knew about this.

"Do you know anything about the Eye of Oris?" Lorget looked first at Remy and then me.

I burst out laughing, and all eyes snapped to me. "That's what the wizard" — I made air quotes — "in my circus troupe called his crystal ball. He wore dark robes embroidered with stars, and when he rubbed the Eye of Oris, a blue mist would swirl around inside. Then he'd tell his client some cockamamie story about their future." I fought to suppress my giggles. "Please tell me you aren't looking for Melvin the Magnificent's blue ball."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Remy's lips twitch before he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. The masters, however, all remained straight-faced. My jaw dropped as I gazed at them. "You can't be serious?"

"I highly doubt the real Eye of Oris is sitting in a circus tent, but it does, or at least did, exist." Lorget said.

Alford leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the table. "According to legend, Oris was a peasant who displayed the gift of foresight from a young age. He could predict minute occurrences, like the exact moment a leaf would fall or when a storm would hit. Recognizing his unique abilities, a secret order of mystics took him in and trained him in the ancient arts."

Alford paused to sip his wine before continuing. "But Oris's thirst for knowledge drove him to forbidden experiments, and ultimately, he forged the Eye from the essence of time itself. With it, Oris could not only see far into the future, but reach deep into the past."

Remy interrupted. "By ‘reach into the past', do you mean see the past or actually change it?"

"Change it," Dorset said.

I gasped as I struggled to wrap my mind around the implications. "The changes could have been catastrophic."

Alford nodded, his expression bleak. "They were. Oris's manipulations of time began to reshape the very fabric of reality. Continents shifted, empires fell before they began, and great heroes and villains were erased or created by his whims. Some believe that our current world is merely one of Oris's many designs."

I sat in silence, digesting the information for a few moments. "What happened to him?" I asked.

"No one really knows. Both he and the Eye vanished centuries ago."

"And now the Eye has turned up in Sageport?" Remy asked. "Why here? Why now, after hundreds of years?"

"We don't know," Lorget said. "We're just hearing rumors it has been found."

"Wouldn't this be a City Enforcer problem?" Remy pressed. "The Eye sounds much too dangerous to sell to the highest bidder."

"Do you want the Fae Council to have this kind of power?" Dorset countered.

"No," Remy conceded. "I don't think anyone should have that kind of power."

"Exactly," Alford chimed in. "We must find it first and then we can decide what to do with it."

"And that's where you come in," Lorget said, sliding the stack of parchment to Remy. "We want you to find it, and Ziola will assist you."

"No!" Remy and I said at the same time, before turning to glare at each other.

Remy crossed his arms and scowled at Lorget. "You know I work alone."

"I thought you would assign me to a master," I complained. Then I winced. Even to my ears, that sounded whiny.

Alford's eyes crinkled at the corners while Dorset chuckled outright. "I told you this decision would be unwelcome," Dorset said to Lorget.

Lorget's lips pinched together in a frown as he regarded each of us over his glasses. "Ziola, Remy has all the skills of a master, and only his refusal to accept additional responsibility has held him back. You can learn much from him."

He turned to Remy. "I've spared you the task of leading a team. This is just one apprentice. Surely, you can handle that."

Remy pushed away from the table without replying, face like a thundercloud. For a moment I thought he would storm out, but instead, he stomped to the sideboard and downed a shot of whiskey. Then he poured another and sat back down. "Fine. But I want a different apprentice. One whose ambition won't cloud her judgment."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I wouldn't risk a mission's success," I protested.

"No? So, you'll only undercut someone else's assignment, not sabotage your own?" His lip curled as he shook his head.

Before I could come up with a retort, Alford held up a hand. "We are aware that you two met under unfortunate circumstances, but we really believe your skill sets complement one another."

"Plus, a little rivalry is good for motivation," Dorset added cheerfully.

Remy threw back the rest of his whiskey and stood. "Let's get this over with," he snapped and stalked out.

I glared balefully around the table but saw no indication that any of the masters might change their minds. This was a disaster. Lorget had told me I needed to be a team player, but there was no way I would be able to keep my temper and meekly obey Remy. I squeezed my eyes shut and begged the gods for patience. Since they'd never granted it to me before, I didn't hold out much hope now.