The Trahiad Page 7

  For a moment she looked up from the pages of the book and gazed out a window in the Order's direction. It was outside of the city, a half day's ride to the East, but she knew exactly where it was. She had stared at its towers on many nights. The one place I yearn for more than even the Trahiad. Every child dreamed of becoming a Templar or Seeker, but no one more than Wyatt and Elisa. She shook her head. That will never happen. The chance of being admitted into the Order was even more slim than being accepted into the Trahiad.

  “Besides,” she said out loud. “They wouldn’t want thieving scum in their precious ranks.” The anger in her voice surprised her.

  Shaking her head, she looked back at the book. I’m not here to think about the Order, I’m here to find ideas on how to get Racin to choose us over all those other lucky souls.

  She racked her brains, hoping that just by being in the library would be enough to give her an epiphany that would set them on the path to success.

  But nothing came.

  She put the History of the Order away and grabbed another one. This one was titled The beginning of Dralchemy and she opened it up. She had read this book a dozen times and knew each sentence by heart. “Could the clue to our success be dralchemy?” she wondered.

  She cursed herself for wasting even another second of time thinking about that. “Why would it be something so obvious? They have access to dralchoms, probably have their own bloody dralchemists down in their perfect little city!” It won’t be bloody dralchoms.

  She set that book down and grabbed one on draestlry, but before even removing it from the shelf, she slammed it back onto the shelf. “It’s not bloody draestlry!” she yelled out in frustration. Without thinking, she slammed her hands on the side of the shelf, and promptly yelled out in fear as a bundle of books started falling from the other side.

  “Curse me!” she yelled as she ran around the shelf to stop the books from tumbling. But the damage had already been done. A dozen or more books—old books—lay on the ground in heaps of pages, dust, and covers. “Curse me and turn me into a dragon!” she swore.

  “Elisa Ander, is that any way for a lady to talk?”

  Elisa spun around, her dagger in her hand, before another moment passed. But upon seeing an old woman, holding a bright lantern in one hand, and a handkerchief in the other, she put away her dagger and smiled. “Mistress Lugan,” she said as the old woman approached. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “I’m not so certain it’s good to see you,” Mistress Lugan said as she gestured to the books. She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “What a mess, dear! What a mess!”

  Elisa looked at Mistress Lugan’s bony finger—covered in ink splotches—as she pointed at the mess Elisa had made.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m just so, well—”

  “Come now, Elisa,” Mistress Lugan interrupted, and before Elisa could argue, Mistress Lugan embraced her.

  The touch from someone who cared was too much, and Elisa broke into tears. She tried to stop them from coming, but they erupted of their own will in heaving sobs. With each sob, Mistress Lugan pulled her closer. It wouldn’t stop, and Elisa put aside her fear and doubts, and just let herself cry.

  Elisa had no idea how long she cried, but soon her eyes were dry, her cheeks stung from the tears that had dried out her skin, and every time she took a deep breath it was accompanied with a sharp pain in her lungs. I haven’t cried like that in years… She took a deep, painful breath, and then allowed herself to relax in Mistress Lugan’s arms. Mistress Lugan stroked her arm and rocked her back and forth.

  “Elisa dear, what is going on? Come. Sit.”

  Elisa let Mistress Lugan bring her back to her favorite chair, and the elderly woman knelt down beside her. Quite the feat for someone that old. Elisa cursed herself silently as she had the thought.

  “Thinking of my age?” Mistress Lugan asked with a slight smile.

  Elisa blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mistress Lugan said.

  Elisa stared into the gray eyes of Mistress Lugan, and for a moment all the memories she had shared with the librarian of the Alderidon Library over the years flashed before her. Elisa had met Mistress Lugan ten years ago, the very first time she had snuck into the library after hours, and Mistress Lugan had been there almost every night since. She had been the one to listen to Elisa cry about her first crush not being interested in her. Was the one to listen to the time that Elisa had had enough with Wyatt and was prepared to go out on her own. She was there the first time they had caught Elisa stealing. The first time Elisa had successfully stolen something. The one to teach her how to read. The one to instill a love of learning. She was there for everything. In every way, Mistress Lugan had played the role of her mother. And she would have played it even more if I let her.

  She shook her head. I can’t bring my sorrows to her. I have to figure this out on my own. Wyatt and I, together.

  “Elisa, don’t you get that stubborn look with me,” Mistress Lugan said. “I see that look. The same look you give me whenever I ask you to live in my home. To take a clean bath. And there’s the frown. You are so predictable, young girl. For dragon’s blood sake, if you weren’t so stubborn you’d have a better life!”

  “I have a great life,” she lied. The frown Mistress Lugan gave her made her blush furiously. Curse her, what does she know. She’s a librarian! The greatest job in the world!

  “I see that you are especially stubborn tonight. There’s some food outside the door. No!” she said, holding up a hand. “Don’t argue, you don’t have to take the food. But it’s there. And it doesn’t have maggots like the filth you eat in the Slums.”

  What I eat in the Slums? Maggots made her think of the pallet that Wyatt was sound asleep on, and she hoped desperately he was sleeping with his mouth closed. For once.

  “So don’t take the food that will give you strength, if you don’t want,” Mistress Lugan said softly. “But tell me, what is on your mind?”

  Elisa glared at Mistress Lugan and thought about changing the subject, but then she saw Racin’s face, with his smug expression and his perfect teeth. I can’t fail to that idiot. Before she knew it, she told Mistress Lugan about their entire experience.

  When she finished, Mistress Lugan took a deep breath and reached out a hand to touch Elisa’s. The touch felt wonderful and Elisa smiled in return.

  “This sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime,” Mistress Lugan said.

  “It is. Can you imagine it? I’d have a place to stay! Food! Safety!”

  “You’d have had all of those things years ago if you weren’t so stubborn,” Mistress Lugan argued.

  “It’s different,” Elisa said, ashamed. I can’t bring my troubles to you, Mistress Lugan. I love you too much. “It’s much different.”

  The look Mistress Lugan gave her made her feel like a childish girl. Wyatt tells me I am a little girl. “It is, trust me,” Elisa pleaded.

  Mistress Lugan nodded slowly. “Very well,” she said. “And if it’s that important—and means that you’ll get off the streets so I don’t have to worry about you anymore, even if it means you are a glorified thief instead of a street thief—then I’ll help. What have you and your brother thought of so far?”

  Elisa told her, a smile forming across her face and a feeling of anxiety and excitement filling her to the point she felt like she might explode.

  “Wyatt thinks it’s a dralchom, or dralchom supplies,” Elisa began.

  “But you think?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  “I think that’s stupid. Dralchoms? Everyone is in the business of dralchoms. Why would that be unique to Racin Poe? He’s the most connected thief in Alderidon!”

  “There is no reason for him to need anything material at all,” Mistress Lugan agreed.

  “Which leads me to draestlry, Wyatt’s next brilliant idea,” Elisa continued.

  “Another material thing,” Mistress Lugan added.

&nb
sp; “Which Racin Poe doesn’t need. No, it can’t be something material as you call it. It has to be something else!” Elisa could hear the frustration in her voice. “This is where I play mind games with myself. I go down one path just to think of another. Could it be he wants a Templar? Because of his past in the Order? Maybe a Seeker since he was a Templar?”

  “It’s good that you are thinking of immaterial things,” Mistress Lugan said. “But he had access to all of those in the past too, so they would probably have the same value as everything else you listed, and very little at that.”

  “Then what is it!” Elisa said. She started rubbing her temples. “Creator! This is driving me insane.”

  “Well, stop thinking of what Racin Poe values then. What do you value?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  Elisa raised an eyebrow. “Value? A night's sleep that’s not on a filthy pallet.”

  “Really?” Mistress Lugan asked with a smile.

  Elisa glared at her. “Yes, really. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Mistress Lugan opened her mouth as if to say something, but shut it a moment later.

  “What, Mistress Lugan? Why do you think I’m lying about not wanting to sleep on the streets? Do you think I enjoy being homeless? You think I enjoy being stuck on the streets?!” she could hear the anger in her voice again. Dear Creator, I’m tired. I need to get to bed. On a bloody rat and maggot infested pallet.

  “Elisa, dear,” Mistress Lugan said calmly. “You don’t value that at all. If you did, you would have moved in with me years ago.”

  Elisa opened her mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut as she felt tears come to her eyes. Curse me, how can I have more tears, I just cried like a little baby!

  “Am I right?” Mistress Lugan asked. Elisa couldn’t answer. She thought about what Mistress Lugan said and realized that she was right. If I valued shelter, why didn’t I solve that problem years ago? Why didn’t I take up Mistress Lugan’s invitation to live with her?

  “So what do you value instead?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  Elisa looked at her friend and saw Mistress Lugan’s kind, warm, gray eyes beckoning her to tell her the truth. Elisa looked away, trying to stem the powerful emotions that were stirring within her. She felt a powerful source of love emanating from her like never before. It enhanced her senses, pounded in her ears, and gave a sense of strength and power that she’d never felt before.

  “What is it you value?” Mistress Lugan urged.

  “To belong,” Elisa finally said.

  “But not just to belong,” Mistress Lugan clarified.

  “To belong because I deserved it. To earn belonging,” Elisa finally answered.

  As the words came out, it felt like a giant burden was lifted off her shoulders. It’s not enough to be invited to a better life. I want to earn a better life. A life that I belong in…

  Mistress Lugan nodded. “Racin Poe is no different. In many ways he’s just like you. Did you know he grew up on the streets? If it wasn’t for Darthyn Scot befriending him, he may have never amounted to anything—though I’d argue being the King of Thieves isn’t much of anything today.”

  “He grew up on the streets? I thought he was nobility!” Elisa asked in wonder. Darthyn Scot befriended him?

  “Oh yes,” Mistress Lugan continued. “It’s quite the story. You see, Darthyn Scot had a wicked crush on Elizabeth Goldmis. Everyone knew it. From the time Darthyn was old enough to walk, he was following Elizabeth around. But as he became a teenager, Elizabeth wanted nothing to do with him. At that time, Darthyn was a little awkward. A little too tall for his age, a little too uncoordinated. One day after Darthyn’s vain attempt at wooing Elizabeth, she told him to run away and leave her alone, so he did. He ran out into the streets with the intent to never come back, an insecure, broken-hearted boy.”

  “We’re talking about the High Judge? High Judge Darthyn Scot?” Elisa asked doubtfully. She had seen the man frequently and broken-hearted, or insecure, were two words she would never use to describe him. “He ran away because he was upset over a girl he ended up marrying?”

  Mistress Lugan laughed. “The very same! People change all the time, Elisa. Just as you can,” she added.

  Elisa glared at her. “Go on. What happened after he ran out?”

  “His father was furious, but not as mad as his mother. The King wanted to send out guards to track him down, but his mother… She decided that if Darthyn would run from trouble, that he could deal with whatever trouble he found—by himself. And trouble he found. He made it only a few blocks into the Slums before some roughnecks decided that his cloak was worth stealing. They mugged and badly beat him.”

  “Where does Racin Poe come in? This sounds like a dreadful story for Darthyn Scot. No wonder it’s not in the histories.”

  “You’d know, you’ve read them all!” Mistress Lugan said with a laugh. “But, Racin Poe, you ask? He came in because he rescued Darthyn from the men that had almost killed him. And he recognized Darthyn as a prince of Ardonor, so he carried him back to the palace. The King and Queen were so grateful that they insisted Racin stay and live with them, and he did. Darthyn recovered, and they grew up together as best friends, and practically brothers.”

  “So that’s how they became friends. I heard them talking about it the other night.”

  “You saw Racin and Darthyn together?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  “Yeah, I was in the sewers,” Elisa started, but stopped when Mistress Lugan gave her a disapproving look. “I was doing reconnaissance. I heard the Trahiad was recruiting, so I was researching. I stumbled into them.” I don’t have to defend myself to you!

  “What did they talk about?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  The question surprised Elisa, but she thought back to that night. “They were arguing about whether Racin was stealing stuff. He was, but—oh yeah, you should have seen Darthyn Scot and Magistrate Mavin. They went marching in like they had laid the sting of the century, and Racin played them for fools!”

  “What did they talk about?” Mistress Lugan reiterated. “I’d be shocked if a certain someone didn’t come up.”

  “Someone?” Elisa asked as she thought back to that night. She stifled another laugh as she remembered how well Racin had tricked him. “Racin said something about a dragonling, I think he was referring to the one that terrorizes Alderidon every once in a while. Does that have something to do with this?” Elisa asked.

  Mistress Lugan shook her head. “Not directly—that’s a story for another time. Think! Did they talk of anyone else?”

  I am thinking! She tried to remember what else they had discussed. Then she remembered one particularly heated exchange. “Elizabeth! Racin had implied that he and Elizabeth had been a thing!”

  Mistress Lugan nodded. Elisa gasped. “Darthyn and Racin became best friends when they grew up together, and they were practically inseparable,” Mistress Lugan continued. “But when Elizabeth noticed Racin—who wouldn’t, he’s the most handsome man in Ardonor—Darthyn grew very jealous. Darthyn was in love with Elizabeth from the first time he met her, and Racin knew that. To avoid any potential risk to their friendship, Racin decided to leave. He joined the Order—the youngest ever—and broke Elizabeth’s heart in the process. It wasn’t until after Darthyn returned home from Zahkaria that he truly caught Elizabeth’s eye. By that time, Racin was already a Templar in the Order—again, the youngest ever—and he was seemingly out of the picture. But the rumors are that Elizabeth’s feelings for Racin Poe never ended. And that Racin Poe never got over Elizabeth.”

  “The exchange last night,” Elisa remember now. “It implied that. You should have seen Racin and Darthyn. They were squabbling over Elizabeth like they were immature boys.”

  “Love will do that,” Mistress Lugan said knowingly. “Love is something you value more than anything else. Just like you said that you want to belong. I’d disagree with your assessment. I don’t think you want to belong. I think what you really want is to be loved.
And to be loved because you earned it.”

  Elisa thought about what she said and again felt peace by coming to terms with something she had been unwilling to admit to herself for far too long. She’s right. “Love. You think Racin still loves Elizabeth?”

  “I’m most certain of it,” Mistress Lugan said. “He may be a thief, but only because he’s jaded toward the Scots. He gave away the love of his life because of the love toward a friend. Then something happened in the Order that made him turn dark, and he’s locked himself away trying to help the poor ever since. When Darthyn discovered what Racin was doing, they had a huge argument in public, and it put a rift in their relationship forever. Racin continued to lead the thieves, and Darthyn has made it his mission to stop him ever since. But the true fight between the two? Racin Poe is still in love with Elizabeth Scot.”

  Elisa felt a smile form across her face.

  “Why are you smiling?” Mistress Lugan asked.

  “Because I now know what he values more than anything else. Darthyn Scot kept saying ‘she chose me’! ‘She chose me’!”

  “And?” Mistress Lugan asked, not connecting the reference.

  “Well, isn’t it true that the wedding band from the Goldmis’ is passed down on the women’s side each generation?”

  Mistress Lugan’s mouth dropped. “Elisa Ander, are you suggesting that Racin Poe would want Elizabeth Scot’s wedding band!”

  “If he thinks he deserves it, and he’s still in love with her?” Elisa finished her thought more as a question. But her smile grew. It has to be that. What could he value more than that?

  “I can’t listen to this,” Mistress Lugan said. “You are suggesting stealing! Stealing! From a Princess of Ardonor!”

  “It’s more like borrowing,” Elisa answered. Her smile wouldn’t go away. “You gave me the idea!”

  “I did not,” Mistress Lugan said, but from the smile on her face, Elisa knew she was pleased with herself.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Elisa said as she stood up. She reached forward and gave Mistress Lugan a hug. “This has to work! What better way to value something than by getting the ring you think you deserve!” A plan started forming in her mind. And I know exactly how to steal it.