The Outcast (Summoner #4)(33)

He furrowed his brows, cocking his head to one side, and his eyes flashed hungrily to Sacharissa.

“I had not thought … perhaps … yes.…”

He trailed off, but continued to stare at Arcturus, his eyes roving back and forth. Arcturus coughed awkwardly, eager to get away from the strange man.

Remembering himself, Crawley smiled and nodded at Arcturus before turning to Ulfr.

“Ulfr, I was looking for you—”

“We’ve nought to talk about,” Ulfr interrupted, shuffling uncomfortably. “You’ve heard my answer and that’s the end of it.”

The dwarf caught Arcturus staring at him and his face darkened.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ulfr snapped.

Sacharissa growled at the dwarf’s tone, and Arcturus was forced to grip the mane along the ridge of her back.

“You had better hurry along,” Crawley said, still giving Arcturus that strange, inquisitive look.

“Come on, Sacha,” Arcturus said, calming his demon with a thought. She had become extremely protective of late.

They continued down the corridor, following Elizabeth’s elusive scent. Behind them, a whispered argument echoed eerily, though Arcturus was unable to hear what was being said.

He glanced over his shoulder as they turned the corner, catching the silhouettes of the two servants.

“I wonder what that was all about?” Arcturus pondered aloud, scratching Sacharissa under her chin. It was strange, but she had grown almost a half foot taller than she had been when they had first met, and was now almost as large as a miniature pony.

As she looked up at him, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, their gazes met. Arcturus felt himself slipping into the gray-tinted world that Sacharissa inhabited, complete with intensified sounds and smells.

He did not break the connection—it was an experience like no other. Scents were so intense it was as if he were tasting the air itself, and he could even sense its ebbs and flows, and determine its direction. Still, it was not all good.

A stale aroma of body odor leaked beneath the door they stood beside. It made Arcturus gag with every fresh waft, while Sacharissa snuffled at the door with an inquisitive nose, fascinated.

He looked away from Sacharissa’s eyes, and was relieved to find that with a bit of concentration, he was able to continue the ability independently.

Intrigued, he took a few steps away. Along with the marginally fresher air, sounds of a whispered argument around the corner reached his newly sensitive ears.

“… I say again, the dwarves will not join you in this folly.” It was Ulfr, his words rapid and angry. “Nor will I have any part in it.”

“You’re making a mistake. Grant me an audience with your elders; I know I can make them see reason,” Crawley growled. “This is happening with or without you.”

“I cannot help you,” Ulfr replied.

“If the dwarves will not aid us, I cannot guarantee their position when the sun rises three days hence,” Crawley said, his voice taut and threatening.

“So be it,” Ulfr snapped.

Arcturus heard footsteps as Ulfr strode away.

“Wait!” Crawley called. “There’s something else.”

The footsteps ceased.

“The boy. You know him, yes?” Crawley asked.

“What of it?” Ulfr replied warily.

“He could be useful. Perhaps you could turn him to our cause. If you did, our leaders would look more kindly on the dwarves.”

Silence.

“You leave him out of this,” Ulfr said.

The footsteps continued, until they had faded from earshot.





CHAPTER

18

ARCTURUS HURRIED DOWN THE corridor, Crawley’s footsteps following behind him. The man was cursing under his breath, but Arcturus did not wish to listen any further. Nor did he wish to run into him, especially after what he had just heard.

His mind was in turmoil. Their conversation had made little sense to him. Crawley needed the dwarves’ help to do something secret … something that would take place in three days’ time. And somehow Arcturus was involved. But why? Why him?

Arcturus’s thighs thudded into Sacharissa’s side, nearly tripping him onto the floor. The demon was sitting beside a wooden door, one of many embedded in the walls of the maze of corridors.

He realized that they had arrived at Elizabeth’s room. As Crawley’s footsteps neared, Arcturus banged on the door with his fist, looking furtively down the gloomy passageway.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled-looking Elizabeth, her uniform rumpled and soot-stained. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, confused.

Arcturus barged past her, catching a brief glimpse of Crawley rounding the corner. Sacharissa bounded in behind him and Elizabeth closed the door, a puzzled look upon her face.

Arcturus breathed a sigh of relief, and collapsed onto a stool in the corner of the room. He had not realized how panicked he was until that very moment, feeling his heart hammering in his chest.

“Arcturus, I did not invite you in,” Elizabeth said reproachfully, surreptitiously flicking her blanket over her unmade bed. “I know you were raised in an orphanage, but surely you know this is unacceptable.”