An abandoned boy, a grieving prince, and a reclusive sorcerer find themselves caught in a web of peril and mystery...
Domi, a young thief abandoned on the street at birth, just wants to save his dying foster mother. But first, he must survive the m...
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"Domi, come with me. We're going out in the field."
Those were the dead-last words he wanted to hear from his aedificans.
"No," Domi said, waving the primer on reading he brought with him. He lounged on one of the cots in the infirmary, keeping an eye on the two Empowered patients sleeping in the corner while Arbita brewed something foul-smelling in the back of the room. "I'm happy to stay right here and practice my glyphs, thanks." He cringed as Valens scowled at him. "What can you possibly need me for out there? I'm useless. I can't do anything."
His aedificans shook his head. "You can't use your sorcery yet, but there are other things you can do."
"Like what? Snatch? You got something you need stolen?"
Valens tossed something at him. Domi yelped as it hit his chest. He scrambled to catch it.
The boy glanced down at the thing in his hands. "What the heck is this?" About the size of the boy's palm, it looked a bit like a tree, but with amethyst crystals instead of leaves. Where a trunk would be, there was instead a silver handle.
Valens waved for him to follow, and with a sigh, Domi put the book down and rose from the cot. "Serenitas and I are leading a team of worldholders to repair the Trellis. While we do so, we must concentrate on our work. You are going to guard us."
"Guard you?" He didn't like the sound of that at all. Guarding someone implied there might be something horrible and dangerous they needed to be protected against. Like clivias. "Don't you have, like, five worldholders here with you? What am I supposed to do that you all can't do on your own way better?"
Valens inclined his chin toward the thing he had thrown at Domi. "You will use that to kill anything that comes near us."
"K-kill?" Domi asked, dread rising. "Please don't tell me we're going to be near clivias."
His aedificans offered him a grim smile as they stepped out into the waystation's hallway and grabbed their heavy Germinating paenulas from hooks on the wall. "To repair the Trellis, we are going to need to be under the area of the worst damage, so we'll lack the Trellis's protection from bestias. And yes, some clivias may still linger there. Don't look so worried, though. Our starholders and mindholders drove most out, so we probably won't run into any, but if some happen to still be here, you will keep them off us."
"Great," Domi said in a small voice. He waved the tree-thing. "How does this work?"
A faint hum rose from inside the amethysts. He frowned. Had someone used promenia to make the crystals, or were they made of promenia?
In the last couple days, he had realized all magic possessed its own distinct resonance and rhythm. Except for the promenia Valens used to keep an eye on him and the Trellis's vast roar above, he lacked the skill to tell the difference between types of magic by sound alone. But for the first time, he thought he could learn later if he paid careful enough attention. Still, he didn't like paying attention; the obnoxious sound made his head ache.
