The Poisoned Crown (SyndiSparklez)

6: He Falls So Slowly

Jordan hesitated. His hand froze on its way to the door and he halted at the sound of voices from the other side. His hand fell to his side and he almost turned an ear to listen, but then he shook his head. He was being silly. Why should he have any reason to spy? What did Botan ever have to hide from him? Tom's paranoia and instinct to over think someone smiling at him was rubbing off. Jordan steeled himself to knock on the door when the door not latched properly blew open on its own.

It was only enough for him to fit through and Jordan felt a tinge in his gut. He didn't believe in superstition, but he also didn't believe in coincidences. Either his god or someone wanted him to hear what was going on inside. Jordan slid in and quietly pushed the door mostly shut behind him. There was no one near the entrance. A few books were sitting on a small table, a lit candle providing light was sitting on top of them. He was tempted to move the candle away from the flammable material, but a second look around revealed with the other piles of books on the ground and no clear tables, the candle would have to stay.

He inched forward, his heart almost catching on in his throat when the board squeaked. Jordan, stilled, but no one heard him. Again, he cursed his actions. He felt like a young foolish teen sneaking back into the library just to get one book his father had told him not to read. Jordan had half a mind to make his presence known, but a few pages of an open book fluttered behind a bookshelf with an armchair and a coffee table drew his attention. It was deliberate magic; Jordan knew no breeze was in the room. Someone had broken the rules to get him to notice something, but what?

Jordan inched forward, but had to stop before walking behind that bookshelf. He could see two figures talking, their backs turned. One was older, with black hair that was graying at the roots. His hair was long and shaggy and he seemed to fidget where he stood, as if troubled by a persistent pain. Beside him, looking old, but not at all worn stood Kikoku Botan, the Historian. Casting a look at them, Jordan slowly edged past the open gap, his eyes locked on their backs. He didn't dare turn his head before he made it to the sanctity of the book case.

The book had stopped flipping. Jordan scanned the pages, but they were utterly blank. He used a brief scan of magic on the book, but the book itself had not been enchanted. Someone had been using magic in close proximity to flip the pages. Was it Botan? He felt silly standing there behind the bookcase and was about to just approach the two when he caught his name.

"Jordan's doing well?" The voice was familiar, but Jordan couldn't place who it was from that. He used his second clue which was the man's appearance and decided it must be Helgrind. Jordan hadn't had the chance to learn a great deal about the man. He would talk to his father about the man to gain insight.

"Yes, although I'm afraid he'll catch something from that damned man. He didn't heed my warning to stay away from him," the Historian said. He put something heavy down and cleared his throat. "How is your son?" Tom was not a topic his father wanted to linger on. Jordan felt a little guilty, but with how Tom acted it wasn't as if Jordan could just ignore Tom and act like they had no reason to converse.

There was a pause and a very uneasy cough. "Growing restless," Helgrind said and he seemed to stumble for words to stay. "He is more like his mother and I cannot keep hiding him away." Helgrind seems to have set a glass down. Jordan wondered if he had been drinking. "Come now, Botan, would it hurt to send him far from here? The war will not cover the realm; he can surely settle elsewhere," Helgrind insisted. He said it with an urgency as if he had been dwelling over it for a while now and had finally gathered the courage to say it.

"...I'm afraid I cannot allow that," the Historian murmured slowly. He let out a sigh and Jordan heard the chair squeak as he eased himself into it.