A Court Of Night and Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Articus waited, impatiently pacing the small portal room, despite the glares he got from the two relaxed Reapers.

"Stop fidgeting, he will be out when he's done," Celia said with a hint of irritation.

"I'm not fidgeting," Articus said defensively, but he stopped.

She didn't argue, only sniffed loudly. Priscilla raised a hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. They had been bickering more and more lately.

The doors opened and Articus heard the heavy foot falls of Cedrick. They all turned to see the giant striding down the hall, grinning. There were faint traces of a nasty black eye but by the time he reached them, it was gone. Priscilla raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded.

"You're looking at a Devotee."

"I expecting nothing less," she said before turning and leaving them through the portal--it activated just before her nose hit the mirror.

Show off.

"Tough woman to please," Articus muttered.

Cedrick watched the woman's body get sucked into the silvery mirror like surface before grunting. "You should see my wife."

Articus looked from Cedrick to Celia. "So what now?"

"Independent study, for both of you," Celia said pointedly to Cedrick, who gave her a mock salute—Articus had been rubbing off on him. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Priscilla and I will go to the Finder's Stone and see if there are any jobs for us. Every Reaper gets paid by the job, so you will be competing for work with everyone else. Hopefully, by the end of the week, we can find you both a job. Don't be surprised if we have to all share one."

"Mistress Celia!"

They all turned to see one of Celia's slaves running toward them. Celia's mouth thinned at the sight of the white clad woman, sprinting unceremoniously toward them, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Maybe I'm rubbing off on her too.

When the slave stopped in front of them, Celia exasperated, "What is it?"

Wishful thinking.

The slave bowed and, between loud gasps of breath, said. "Master Reaper – Nicolas. Told – me to tell – you that he – has a level 2 assignment for – Master Articus. Here – Mistress." She handed her a note.

Celia's eyebrows rose in surprise, grabbing the white parchment from her. "Level 2? You are sure of this?"

"Why?" Articus asked as the slave nodded furiously.

"They rank their assignments by difficulty. Level 1 is the hardest and level 4 is the easiest. Novices normally start out with 3 or 4. You apparently impressed him enough."

Articus would have thought she would have been pleased, but she wasn't. Her frown only deepened more when she read the note.

"Cedrick, you will come with us. Priscilla is busy today—doing other things."

The two new Devotees looked at each other, uncertain.

"What about our sa'dkas?" Cedrick asked.

"They will be there at the Finder's Stone. Come."

His mentor's frown worried Articus. She wasn't the type of woman to worry unless it was warranted. The more his mind started thinking on it, the more he became suspicious. If I can assume Celia isn't in on whatever is going on, and she has my best interest... I don't care how special they think I am, this seems off. I can't use my spirit, so why risk it? And then a morbid thought hit him, What if they are trying to kill me off? Send me off on an assignment deemed hard and arrange my death? Damn.