The Outcast (Summoner #4)(23)

She licked his hand, then cocked her head to one side. Arcturus knew she didn’t really understand him, but simply sensed his intentions. Still, her snuffling had given him an idea.

“Look at me, Sacha,” Arcturus instructed, lifting her head with his hand. He stared deep into her eyes, trying to catch that brief moment they had shared in the corridor. In the dim torchlight of the corridor, her eyes shone like shards of blue ice, never wavering from his own.

The world started to shift, the blue becoming a cold gray, the flickering orange replaced by pale shadows. He could smell the oil in the lamps, suddenly bitter and pungent in his nostrils. Most importantly, the voices in the other room came through clear as day, as if he were standing right beside the boys.

“… he will find out soon enough. We need to get rid of the evidence, or all will be lost. My father has spent years currying favor with the king. Never has our future been so threatened.”

It was Charles, his voice low and rapid. Arcturus could even hear his panicked breathing.

“Are there others?” Rook asked.

“How should I know? There might be!” Charles snapped.

“What good will it do, then, if there are others?”

“They won’t know where to look for them … yet. My father has already taken care of the innkeeper and his wife—they were the only others who knew where the urchin came from, before he was a stable boy. Father sent word that Provost Forsyth will return tomorrow, to interrogate the boy. We cannot let that happen. A few words from him and all might be lost.”

Stable boy? They had to be talking about him. As he tried to make sense of it all, Arcturus’s concentration slipped and the world turned colorful again. He gritted his teeth and grasped Sacharissa’s head in his hands, forcing the connection. He had to know more.

“… tonight. I’ll tell dog breath what he is before we begin. I want to see the look on his face,” Charles snarled, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.

“There’s a chance he might win, you know that, right?” Rook warned. “Your demon is the same level as his and neither of you can cast any spells.”

Charles laughed scornfully. “Don’t you worry about that. The battle we witnessed today has given me an ide—”

Sacharissa whimpered. Arcturus realized he was gripping her head, his fingers tightening like a vise as he concentrated on the connection. He could suddenly feel her pain, fierce pulses of agony that she had borne stoically.

“What was that?” Rook hissed. There was the sound of feet thudding to the ground.

Arcturus released Sacharissa and they sprinted away, dodging around the corner just in time. The door slammed open, the bang echoing down the corridor.

“Nobody here,” Rook grunted.

“Well, close the door, it’s freezing out there,” Charles called.

The door closed and Arcturus breathed easy once more. He let himself slide down the wall, until he was sitting on the cold paving of the floor.

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” Arcturus whispered, gently stroking Sacharissa’s back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She lapped at his hand, as if to say she still loved him.

“I wasn’t so sure if I was going to go tonight; if I do it will put us in unnecessary danger. But now I know I have to. Lord Forsyth will interrogate me tomorrow, and we know what that could be like.” He remembered the pain of Sacharissa’s whipping. The darkness of the cell.

“Charles said he would tell me what I am before the duel. I won’t even fight; I’ll just hear what he has to say and then we’ll leave Vocans. Maybe we can make it to the elven lands in the north. It’ll be safer than this place.”

Sacharissa yawned, and rested her head in his lap. Arcturus laughed as she began to snooze, half closing her eyes.

“You’re right, you lazy thing. Let’s get back to the room, pack our bags and rest up. We’ve got to be ready at the second bell and as far away from Vocans as possible by first light.”





CHAPTER

13

ARCTURUS DIDN’T SLEEP. HIS bag was packed, his meager possessions in the satchel and ready to go. He would take it with him when he went to the summoning room. As soon as he was out of Vocans he would need to change into his old clothes. The uniform would be too conspicuous. Then again, with Sacharissa by his side, it wouldn’t really matter what he was wearing; they would stand out like a sore thumb. Once he had put a few miles behind them, he would need to somehow teach himself infusion.

For a while he had debated whether to keep the dirk strapped to his boot or to stash it in the bag for his meeting with Charles. He had been wearing it over the past two days, but nobody seemed to mind—it was a military academy after all. If it did come to a fight, he would prefer there to be no weapons involved. At the same time, if Charles planned to use one, it would make no difference if Arcturus was visibly armed or not.

“I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” Arcturus reasoned to Sacharissa, listening for the dull sound of the second morning bell. His mouth was dry and the evening meal Ulfr had brought him remained untouched beside his bed. Even Sacharissa had refused to eat it, although that might have had something to do with it being a salad. Arcturus suspected that to her, it might as well have been a pile of grass.