Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 51.1 - Aster

I avoid Riszev. There will be plenty of time to get to know her in Retra.

I settle cross-legged in the floor of my new bedroom, the staff laid out in front of me. Anticipation tightens its fingers around my gut. The people I set to investigate Riszev's would-be assassin won't report back until tomorrow. Given the culprit's death and their previous record, I don't have much faith in their results, but there's still nothing to do but wait. My lips twist.

It unnerves me to have no window, so I lit only the glow crystals on one side of the room, giving myself the illusion of moonlight. I suppose every night from here on will seem like a full moon to me. I don't think the next real full moon is for another couple days. Idyne's running out of time to uphold her end of the bargain, and between her admittance that the shamans aren't dead yet and her half-brained strategy, my distrust in her ability to do so is mounting.

I push the thoughts away to focus on the staff. Just like it stores Xíeme's activation spells for the wall defenses, Seconds for centuries have used it to store other spells. I wonder what Agraund kept in it. It's supposed to be easier to release a spell from the staff than to normally cast it, and apparently storing one is more of an endurance issue than a power one; it spreads the cast over a longer period, making it a steady marathon rather than a sharp sprint. Maybe one day, when I have time to sit in a training room for hours, this could make me the caster a Second is supposed to be.

Right now, though, I need to learn what's already here. Closing my eyes, I spread my hands over the staff. In the manuscripts, Seconds of times past describe the artefact as so powerful, especially when it has spells in it, that they could feel its strength just from being near it. When I pricked myself on it at the coronation, I felt its presence—an extension of me, thrumming with magic.

Now, with my hands just inches from its surface, I feel nothing.

"Evta, ahresåe. Ec diét." I grasp the staff, palm pricking on it. Now, the warmth of the magic floods me, and eyes closed, I revel for a moment in power I've never felt before. The wave starts to recede, and I focus on it, trying to call it back up. I need to center with it in order to discern what spells the staff contains.

The studying spell ends.

I release the staff, frustrated. Then I draw in a deep breath. There was no reason to assume I would succeed on the first try. I cast again, this time diving into the depths of the staff's magic as soon as it washes over me.

The more I focus, the more the magic seems to shy away from me. Angry, I cast again and again. After my fifth failure, I open my eyes to see Ollem standing with my dinner.

I rise and accept it, sitting on the end of my bed to eat. My arms are heavy as I raise my fork to my mouth.

He eyes the staff.

"Do you know much of magic?" I ask.

His eyes snap to mine. "No, sir."

I nod. Him knowing anything was unrealistic anyway since he probably came from the groundskeepers.