Chapter 10: No End Here
The atmosphere at breakfast felt strange.
After I'd cut off our conversation yesterday with that line about "don't ask me questions you shouldn't," I'd felt uncomfortable. Sitting at the same table this morning, that stiffness still lingered somewhere, and we both skirted around it. Cade broke a hard piece of bread in half, lowering his head to study one half with concentration. I opened my notebook, pretending to search for where I'd left off yesterday.
He'd helped me, then I'd shut him down, after which he'd mentioned Osric, then pushed that half-piece of bread across, acting as if the matter was already behind us.
What I'd been thinking about before sleep was something else: he knew about Osric's book, knew it had sold well when published. This exceeded all my expectations of what the profession of "hunter" entailed. And that "we"—he'd used it so naturally, so naturally he hadn't even noticed it slip out.
His half of the bread still sat on the table.
"You're thinking about the book." He looked up, his tone flat.
I raised my head to look at him.
"Shouldn't you be asking me if I slept well?"
"Under your eyes," he said. "You didn't sleep well."
I fell silent for a second, then took the half-piece of bread.
"I read Osric's book six years ago," I said. "I want to know when you read it."
"Three years ago. A rainy season, mission canceled, waited two weeks, only had a few books on the shelf worth reading."
"Two weeks," I said. "Enough time to read through the entire bookshelf."
He stuffed the other half of the bread into his mouth, not responding. We were both thinking our own thoughts, the kind the other could never guess unless spoken aloud.
"After breakfast," he pulled a rolled parchment from his inner pocket, setting it on the table and pushing it toward me, "we go see Osric."
The wax seal was deep red, the stamp showing two crossed feathers. I glanced at the contents as he unrolled it, stopping halfway through.
"This is forged."
"Yes."
"You plan to enter the wizard's tower with forged documents." My tone carried some disbelief.
"Correct."
"You know this level of deception won't last two seconds in front of the tower guards, right?" Wizard tower authentication documents used deep purple wax seals—this was common knowledge even junior palace scribes knew. This document's red wax seal would be identified as fake before we even entered.
Cade rolled the parchment back up, his manner calm.
"I have reason to believe this time will be different."
"What reason?"
"I simply have this judgment."
I looked at him, very much hoping he could give me an answer. My judgment told me we shouldn't proceed as he suggested, but my alternative plan was more troublesome. Having Osric notified through official channels and registration would leave my name in the registry, allowing the palace to trace this line at any time—something I needed to avoid.
"Why are you helping me?" I suddenly asked him. If he said it was for money, I would definitely kick his ass hard.
Unexpectedly, he lost his serious demeanor all at once, bursting into laughter.
"My God, miss. That's your question? Even a fool could see you've never left home before. If I don't accompany you, in a place like this you'd be sold to a brothel within an hour."
"You! You're really—"
I found his words both infuriating and amusing. I knew he was teasing me, without malice. But no one could speak to me this way without paying a price. To get back at him, I kicked his shin hard under the table.
"Don't call me stupid! You'll regret it."
He cried out dramatically, frowning as if I'd broken his leg.
"Oh! You're really a little colt, aren't you? I suggest you add more to my medical expenses, miss."
The innkeeper behind the bar was wiping tables, watching us fool around and shaking his head.
Thanks to this joke, the atmosphere between us eased considerably. Since leaving the royal city, I hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time.
"So, do you know how to get to the wizard's tower?" he asked.
I paused, my mind returning to the previous topic.
"Roughly."
He rested his chin in his hand, looking at me, already knowing I was hopeless when it came to navigation. But he decided to tease me further, to see how far my stubbornness would go.
"What does 'roughly' mean?"
"I know the direction, can figure out the specific route." I wouldn't admit I had no sense of direction.
"So you don't know."
"That tower is so tall, just follow it."
He finally sighed, patting the crumbs off himself and standing up.
"Better follow me, little boss. Before all my commission gets swallowed by monsters."
If I'd insisted on going alone that day, I probably would have wandered Elarin's streets all day, then returned to the inn empty-handed.
Elarin's roads had their own rules, unlike anything I'd seen in the royal city. Leaving the inn and going upward, the first two sections of steps were normal—stone-paved roads, uneven, with direction markers carved into the rocks along the sides. Reaching the third section, Cade stopped before a rock wall that appeared completely solid, placed his palm flat against it, and pushed left.
Part of that wall rotated, revealing a gap just wide enough for one person to slip through sideways.
I stood there watching, eyes wide.
"How did you know there was a door here?"
"When walking, the feeling under your feet is different from the road beside it—hollow underneath. In Elarin you can't judge with eyes alone." He slipped inside sideways, turning to look at me. "Sometimes the road goes above, sometimes below, sometimes the direction changes on its own as you walk."
I followed him in sideways.
The passage was very dark, lit only by a glowing stone embedded overhead every few steps. This type of stone needed three months of moonlight soaking to achieve this brightness, only effective for seven days after a full moon, after which it became ordinary stone. I glanced at the light intensity, judging this batch probably had three or four days of life left.
The passage suddenly turned at an unexpected angle at one point, the exit behind an ordinary wooden door. The door opened onto an outdoor corridor bridge, beneath which was the main street we'd just walked.
I looked down, then at the direction we'd emerged from.
"Wait. We were walking upward just now."
"Yes."
"But now we're on the left side of that main street. We started from the right side of the main street."
"Correct."
"So we walked upward, but ended up on the left."
"Elarin's roads have different directions in morning and evening," Cade walked toward the other end of the bridge, his tone calm. At times like this his jokes became fewer, because he needed to navigate himself.
"The direction at noon is fixed, other times it shifts. You don't need to understand the principle now, just follow."
He was very patient with me now, probably treating me like a child. I couldn't really say anything, just followed him silently. After all, he was willing to help me, regardless of his reasons. And what he said was right—if I'd set out alone, I probably would never reach my destination.
I observed his trick for remembering routes. Like a squirrel hiding nuts, he found inconspicuous marks in various places to judge direction and method of passage.
Also a smart person, not just muscle.
Beyond the bridge was another section of steps, the material changing from limestone to darker basalt, its surface covered with fine grooves, very stable to walk on. Going upward, I noticed runes on the rock walls flanking the steps, densely packed, some newly carved, some worn by wind into vague traces. I scanned a few lines, barely recognizing three or four words: road, through, no end here.
No end here.
I glanced ahead at Cade's back, setting aside those five words for now.
The final stretch of road passed through an ordinary residence's door, through a small courtyard hung with cured meat and bundles of grass, out through a low door on the other side of the courtyard, up half a slope, and the wizard's tower seemed to be magically pulled close all at once. Just moments ago it had looked far away, now suddenly right before us.
I stood in front of it, looking up for a long time.