Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

Halizanth found the parchment on her pillow.

It was almost an afterthought, the way it blended in with the rumpled sheets and linens, as if it belonged there. As if it had been waiting for her.

With trembling fingers, she picked it up. Her name—Halizanth—was written on the front in that distinctive, elegant script of his. She'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and each curve and flourish of the letters brought a rush of memories: of secret notes passed between them, of pages of books turning under his fingertips, of his hands, so strong and sure, guiding hers as they deciphered the coded message together.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. She missed him. She missed the way he looked at her, as if she held all the answers in the world. She missed the sound of his voice, like the crackle of flames, and the warmth of his body, so cold and distant at first, but slowly, slowly melting under her touch.

With a soft, watery laugh, she unfolded the parchment and turned it over.

My dearest Hali,

I am a coward, and so I must leave you this note, for I cannot bear to look you in the eyes and see the disappointment I know I have earned. I wish more than anything that I could stay, that I could cherish these days with you, but duty calls, and I cannot ignore it.

My mentor has need of me, a journey to undertake, and I do not know how long we will be gone. It is urgent, and I must leave at once, but I could not go without telling you, without begging your forgiveness for my silence.

I will carry the memory of you with me, like a flame in the darkness, and I will hold it close to my heart. I only hope that when I return, you will still be here, and that you can find it in yourself to forgive me.

Yours, now and always,

Osric

Tears blurred Hali's vision as she read the last words, but she refused to let them fall. She folded the note carefully, and pressed it to her lips. His words, his scent, the faint indentations his quill had left on the parchment—she committed them all to memory, and then she tucked the note away, a secret treasure.

She was a fool, a hopeless, foolish romantic, and she knew it. Knew that his words were only words, and that he might never return. But for now, she would allow herself this small, sweet fantasy. She would hold his note close to her heart, and pretend that it was his hand, and not the ink, that was staining the paper with tears.

And then she noticed the box.

It was a small, unassuming thing, carved from dark wood and inlaid with intricate brass filigree. But there was something about it that drew her to it, a pull she couldn't quite explain.

Carefully, as if in a dream, she opened the box.

Nestled inside was a necklace, a delicate chain of interlocking metal loops. But it was the pendant that made her gasp—a single, perfect flame, the metal so finely worked that it seemed to flicker and dance with the slightest movement.

She ran her thumb over the pendant, tracing the curves of the flame. It was exquisite, a true work of art, and she knew instantly that it was from him. He was the only one who could create something so beautiful, so full of passion and life.

With trembling hands, she unfastened the necklace and lifted it from the box. It caught the morning light, sending shards of gold dancing across the walls. She held it up, and for a moment, just a moment, she could almost feel his arms around her, his breath warm on her ear.

She set the necklace around her neck, the cool metal resting against her skin. It was a bittersweet weight, a reminder of his absence, but also of his love, his passion, his promise to return.

And as she looked at herself in the mirror, the flame reflected in her eyes, she made a promise of her own.

Hali moved through her morning routine in a daze.

She couldn't stop thinking about Osric, about the way he spoke to her as if she were the only person in the world. The way he listened, really listened, to her words, her stories, her rambles. The way his calloused hands were so gentle as they traced the curve of her cheek, her shoulder, her hip. The way he held her, like he never wanted to let her go.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

She tried to be angry, she really did. He had deceived her, lied to her, broken her heart. But the anger wouldn't stick, not when all she felt was the hollow ache of his absence. She tried to tell herself that his note, his gift, meant he truly cared, that he intended to return. But the doubts crept in, the old insecurities that whispered she wasn't enough. Was never enough to make him stay.

She threw herself into her work, but her thoughts kept straying to him, to the mysteries they had unraveled, and the ones that still remained. She went through the motions of her daily life, but it all felt wrong, out of tune, like a key that no longer fit the lock.

She was a bookshop owner with no rare book to sell, a codebreaker with no cipher to crack. But most of all, she was a fool in love, and she had no idea what to do with that.

But Hali was not one to wallow for long.

She was a dwarf of action, or so she liked to believe, and so she set her broken heart aside, for now, and focused on the task at hand. She had a meeting with Professor Thornsley to prepare for, and she was not about to let her wayward emotions get in the way of that.

She gathered up the papers and notes she had compiled on the ignean script, tucking them into a satchel along with a fresh notebook and a bundle of quills. She debated for a moment whether to bring the grimoire with her, but in the end, she decided to leave it safely hidden at home. She had a feeling the professor would have plenty to say about it even without the physical book in front of him.

Satisfied that she was as prepared as she could be, Hali had just finished locking up the shop when a familiar figure came hurrying up behind her.

"Morning, boss," Sooty said, falling into step beside her.

"Sooty! Sorry, but I need you to stay at the shop while I take this meeting."

"Sure, I considered it." He shrugged. "But then I thought, you know, maybe you could use a hand with this whole meeting thing. You seemed pretty worked up about it."

Hali felt a lump form in her throat at his unexpected kindness. "That's—that's not a bad idea, Sooty. Thank you. But I'll be fine on my own."

"Eh, it's slow in the mornings anyway. And I can always use a field trip to the University. Beats restocking the quills any day."

Hali smiled, her heart swelling with affection for her young assistant. "All right, then. To the University it is."

As they walked, Sooty reached into his bag and pulled out a thick notebook, the pages filled with his cramped, spidery handwriting. Hali's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She couldn't remember a single time in the years they'd worked together that she'd seen Sooty so much as crack a book, let alone take notes.

"You've been doing your homework, I see," she said, unable to keep the teasing note from her voice.

Sooty scowled. "I do know how to read, you know. And write. And take notes, even if they're not all flowery like yours."

"I never said they had to be flowery! Just legible. You know, so you can actually read them later."

Sooty rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon, let's go find this professor of yours."

As they walked, the lump in Hali's throat returned, this time with a side of curiosity. Sooty had been unusually helpful and engaged ever since their encounter with the Obsidian Circle thugs. Not that he was ever unhelpful; he was just more . . . present, somehow. Like he was actively looking for clues, rather than waiting for her to point them out. She'd been so preoccupied with her own thoughts and feelings that she hadn't given it much consideration at the time, but now, she couldn't help but wonder.

"Hey, Sooty," she said, a little hesitant. "Can I ask you something?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she could almost feel him bracing himself. "I mean, I guess you're gonna ask no matter what, so . . ."

She bit back a laugh. He really did know her too well. "What made you suddenly take such an interest in all of this? The grimoire, the coded messages, the whole investigation, really. Not that you aren't a great assistant all the time, but . . ."

"But I've been extra great lately, is that it?" Sooty snorted. "I dunno. Just seemed interesting, I guess."

"Interesting how?"

"Well . . . I mean, I never said this before, but I did used to go to the university."

Hali stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping. "You did? But you're so . . ."

"Brilliant, I know. It's a curse."

"Hey, now, none of that." Hali couldn't keep the grin off her face. "But you're so young still. When was this? What were you studying? Why did you drop out?"

"I was . . . a lot younger than most students. I was only, like, twelve." Sooty shrugged. "But it was boring, all right? I already knew most of the stuff they were trying to teach me, and I got in trouble a lot for asking too many questions. So I figured, why bother? I could learn more on my own."

"Of course you got in trouble for asking questions," Hali said with a fond smile. "You and I both, I think."

Sooty's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and he kicked at another cobblestone. "Yeah, well. I figured you'd want to know, is all. Since we're trying to solve a mystery and all."

"Thank you, Sooty. I appreciate you telling me." She looped her arm through his, giving him a playful shake. "And I appreciate everything you've been doing to help. You're a quick study, that's for sure."

"Yeah, well. You're a good teacher, I guess."

When they reached the professor's office, the door was already ajar, and a faint, musty scent wafted out into the hall. They exchanged a glance and then stepped inside.

The office was a glorious disaster, with stacks of ancient tomes and scrolls teetering precariously on every available surface. The air was thick with the smell of old parchment and ink, and Hali felt a pang of nostalgia for the long hours she used to spend in the library when she was a student.

"Professor Thornsley?" she called, peering over the stacks. "Are you all right?"

With a muffled grunt, the professor emerged from behind a particularly large pile, a broad grin on his face. "Miss Brightminer! And Mr. Spriggins, I presume? Please, come in, come in. I have the most marvelous discovery to show you."

He gestured for them to gather around his desk, and with great care, unrolled a massive piece of parchment that was nearly as old as he was. The surface was covered in intricate diagrams, with strange runes and symbols woven throughout.

Hali's eyes widened as she peered at the parchment. "This is Ignan! Where did you find this?"

"It's a rubbing, you see, from a carving that was unearthed by the primordial scholars many centuries ago. The original is, alas, long gone, but copies such as these have been passed down through the ages. The inscription is thought to be a cipher of some sort, but the key to unlocking its secrets—the cipher key for it, that is—has been lost to time."

Hali's hands trembled as she traced the strange, angular symbols. "I recognize a few of these from my other research, but . . . but it's not enough. Without the full key, it's all just gibberish."

"Indeed. However, there are whispers, my dear, that a newer cipher key was created only a few dozen years ago to match the original. A way to unlock the secrets of the ignean script once more. If the Obsidian Circle is searching for the same thing, then it is all the more reason for us to find it first."

Hali's mind raced as she made the connection. The frivolous spells in the grimoire—useless at first glance, just as intended—must have been carefully crafted to capture the same cipher key as the original. The weight of that revelation settled on her shoulders, threatening to crush her. If the Obsidian Circle had gone to such lengths to obtain the cipher key, it meant the knowledge it unlocked was incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. But even more worrisome was the thought that they might have already succeeded.

But there was no time to dwell on what might have been. The grimoire was gone, lost to the Obsidian Circle, and there was no telling what havoc they might wreak with the knowledge it contained. Hali's shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned back to the parchment, the Ignan script dancing before her eyes.

"If only we had the cipher key," she said, more to herself than to the professor. "Then we might stand a chance at unraveling this."

A lump formed in her throat, the same one that had been there ever since she'd woken to find the grimoire missing. She felt raw, exposed, the wound of Osric's betrayal still fresh and stinging. She had let herself trust him, had let herself care, and he had repaid her by shattering that fragile bond.

But she was tired of feeling sorry for herself, of nursing her wounded pride. She was a solver of puzzles, a seeker of truths, and she would not rest until she had unraveled this mystery, with or without Osric's help.

As she stared at the strange symbols on the parchment, a memory tugged at the edges of her mind. A memory of a late night in the shop, the grimoire spread out before her, the coded message taunting her with its secrets. She had been so desperate to unlock its meaning, so determined that she had almost overlooked the clues that were right in front of her.

"Hang on a minute," Sooty said, clearing his throat.

Hali's head snapped up, and she realized that she had been tracing the same rune on the parchment over and over, lost in thought. "What is it, Sooty?"

He set his thick notebook on the desk with a soft thud, and there was a hint of pride in his usually nonchalant demeanor. "So, um. I mighta, uh, done a thing."

"What thing?" Hali asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

Sooty pushed the notebook toward her, and she saw that the pages were covered in the same strange symbols from the grimoire, painstakingly copied over and over. "I, uh, I took the liberty of copying the book for myself. Figured I'd try my hand at deciphering it, too."

Hali's heart stopped. She stared at the notebook, then at Sooty, then back at the notebook, her mind whirling with possibilities. He had copied the entire grimoire. Every coded message, every maddeningly vague spell, all of it. The key to unlocking the cipher.

Sooty shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his usual scowl firmly in place. "I know, I know. I shoulda told you before. But it was your grimoire, and I figured you should be the one to decipher it, not me."

Hali's eyes stung with tears, and she wrapped her arms around the young gnome in a fierce hug. "Sooty, you brilliant, brilliant boy. You just might have saved us, after all."