Duality - Rowan Erlking (sight word books .TXT) 📗

at their hips. He frowned. Even if he broke into the room late at night, Bernum was sure those guards would be on watch to shoot at anything that moved.

“But you haven’t caused any mischief for me at all,” Omoni mused aloud, his eyes now fixing on Bernum.

Shrugging, Bernum merely replied, “Not yet. But then I’m not really in the mood to play pranks.”

Omoni leaned forward again. “My steward has not returned yet. Do you know how to scry?”

Not expecting that question, Bernum shrugged then reached into his shirt, pulling out the pendant he wore. “Of course. But, aren’t there more experienced magicians in town that can scry for you?”

Nodding, Omoni still pulled out a map from his desk drawer, unfolding it. “I did. But I think it is best to try another magician, just in case.”

It didn’t really matter to Bernum anyway. He agreed with what those other performers had said about the steward. The Blue Lord had to be the one who had killed him. The man would never be found again.

“Ok,” Omoni smoothed out the map. “Say the skrying spell for me asking for exactly what I ask for. Understand?”

Shrugging, Bernum dangled the charm over the map, going clockwise and marking the major landmarks of the city with it, reciting the mapping spell. Then he started into the skrying spell. “Lost from the north, missing from the east, gone from the south, departed the west, find my—” He waited for Omoni’s instructions.

Omoni nodded and said, “one thing I have come to Jonori for.”

Bernum froze. He felt the weight of Omoni’s eyes on him—but he repeated after him, taking a breath first to brace himself. “…one thing I have come to Jonori for. Show!”

His charm snapped right onto the street where Omoni lived, marking the home exactly.

Omoni blinked, looking up at Bernum. “You weren’t lying. You really are here for me.”

Shaking off the shiver that ran through him, Bernum forced a smile. “Of course.”

The bell shuddered slightly, but did not ring.

Sighing, Omoni folded up the map. “Well, if you really were here for that witch, it would have pointed to her. You may go.”

Relieved, Bernum bowed to the merchant then turned. He rushed out of the study still feeling his hands shaking.

 

Bernum didn’t make it home until long past midnight. He crashed upon his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts throbbed against his temples. A sloshing sensation of exhaustion flooded over the rest of his brain functions. He started to feel less than just a seventeen-year-old magician-in-training. For a moment, he imagined himself as the childhood folk tale fool that was unable to stop the town flunkies from chasing him with rocks. Where had all his ingenious ideas and sneaky tricks gone? How was it that everyone was now getting the better of him? He needed inspiration.

Bernum sat up. Merchant Omoni was onto him. He might not have realized that the pendant pointed to his place because Malkia was there, but it would not be long before he figured it out. Hopping to his feet, Bernum rushed to his suitcase and flung it open. The black clothes he had packed for a break-in had to go. Gathering them, he also collected the other items he had prepped for a burglary, including the rope and glasscutter. Taking them all, he stuffed them into the magic chest, shutting it hard with a mutter to a spell. It was the safest place he had, especially now that Omoni suspected him.

 

Chapter Eleven: Undetected

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bernum returned to the circus on the third afternoon feeling subdued. The performers watched him, several keeping their keen eyes fixed on where he set his magic chest. Bernum sat on it mutely, resting his elbows on his knees while pressing his lips together in thought. No one approached him at all until the performance time, and that was the ringmaster who asked Bernum if he was feeling well.

“I hardly slept last night.” Bernum rubbed his eyes. “The boss summoned me to his house, and I didn’t get in until late.”

Lifting his eyebrows, the ringmaster said, “He summoned you?”

Bernum nodded. “Yes. He suspected me of having relations with that witch Ludy, and of getting rid of that uptight steward of his.”

Eager ears perked, listening more intently.

“Did you?” the ringmaster whispered with interest to Bernum.

Turning his tired eyes at the keenly dressed man, Bernum sighed then rose. “Ok, for the record—that witch was an acquaintance of the head magician at my school, which Omoni became full aware of last night. But I did not lay a finger on that steward. Not one finger.”

The locals sighed only slightly with relief, including the ringmaster, though their eyes really did turn back to the foreigners who were veiling smirks of enjoyment at Bernum’s discomfort.

“So you knew that witch, Ludy?” the ringmaster asked.

Groaning inside, Bernum corrected, “Midwife. I knew Midwife Ludy. And I didn’t like her all that much. Ok?”

Again more relief came from the locals, though this time the foreigners emitted huffs of dismay. They turned away to attend to their duties. It was enough. He had sent his message that they had not cornered him yet.

Sighing with a pat on Bernum’s shoulder, the ringmaster said, “Good. I was hoping you hadn’t come to tangle in the merchant’s affairs. No one ever wins against him.”

Bernum watched the man walk off, straightening his suit jacket to go out into the performance ring.

The Blue Lord sidled up behind Bernum, hissing. “Are you ready?”

Bernum jumped, hopping away.

Smirking, the Blue Lord nodded. “You were in his home last night. Let’s have it.”

Shaking his head, Bernum walked backward from him. “I didn’t make a deal with you.”

The Blue Lord smirked, stepping closer to Bernum. “Oh no? Our friend said you agreed with him. That’s the same as agreeing with us.”

Groaning, Bernum climbed on top of his magic chest that was in his hate ward. “You just keep away from me. Blue Lord or Sky Child, there is no way I would trust a skin sucker that has killed.”

“Just tell us about the documents,” the red haired woman said, walking up to the other side of the hate ward. “Did you find them?”

Looking over his shoulder at her, Bernum cast her a similar look of dislike. “I figured out where they were, yes. But there is no way I can get them out without a whole lot of help. That means you people have to help me.”

Both foreign warriors retreated from him, sharing disgusted looks.

The black-and-white haired man trotted over to the woman, whispering into her ear. She whispered back then called over to the Blue Lord in a language Bernum did not know. A flicker of annoyance passed through the demon’s gaze. He cast Bernum one last glare before stalking back to the costuming area. Bernum hopped off the chest, watching them go. It was then that he noticed the replacement steward watching them near the bear’s cage, just barely in the shadow. Meeting his gaze, Bernum frowned.

 

That night’s show finished with much appreciated applause, Bernum staggering into the performer’s area less soot-covered and carrying a couple roses a woman had tossed to him from the stands. He meandered back through the cages and costumes, barely blinking as the feather-cloaked white-and-black haired man rushed by to give his performance. Glancing back at the tall tanned man, Bernum chuckled at how seriously they took their jobs, even in the hands of that merchant. He faintly wondered what Omoni was holding over their heads. What kept two experienced warriors and two Perri assassins from just running off like the wizard had done.

But that wizard really had not gone far at all, Bernum realized. It seemed entirely odd that such a collection of freaks were so emotionally attached to one another. They were the walking opposite of everything Maldos stood for—regularity, unity, and harmony. They were just so imbalanced and…

Bernum felt ill. His mind had fallen directly to Dennik. Imbalanced. That was what people also said about him—he was too imbalanced to live.

Shuddering, Bernum looked around at the circus again. The people there, even the Maldos workers, were those kind of people—people whom regular Maldos society would have sneered on in any other place. And they were clinging to each other for survival. Those foreigners were not leaving the others behind due to compassion.

Bernum sat on his magic chest. His conflicting thoughts and feelings rammed against each other, fighting for precedence as he deliberated what to do next. He didn’t have the capacity to get the documents on his own, but the performers did not seem willing to go off to Omoni’s with him either. If they had been, they would have proposed a plan with more compromise. They were just as suspicious of him as he was of them. Undoubtedly, they hated any Maldos citizen that didn’t fit into their circle of cast-offs. Bernum wondered if they even trusted those other locals.

The crowd cheered loudly. The amazing ‘flying man’ clearly performed an awe-inspiring stunt. Suddenly curious, Bernum crept from his magic chest to the tent wall where he pulled up the bottom edge of the canvass. He crawled under. On the other side, he found himself along the concrete steps where to the right was a tight squeeze. A distant security guard stood on watch to make sure no one snuck in from the outside. The guard hadn’t seen Bernum. Towards the descending end of the steps where the light was brighter, Bernum crept along the wall, just until his head peeked out enough to see the ‘flying-man’s show.

The black-and-white haired man was floating mid-air, his huge feathered cloak spread out as if flapping wings. Bernum blinked at it then stared hard. The underside pattern of the feathered cloak was just like that of a real bird’s wings. Exactly actually. In fact, as they flapped Bernum had the sinking feeling that it was not a cloak that was flapping, but real wings.

Shuddering, Bernum heard the cheers of the crowd get louder, even as the bird man dived and soared over their heads, landing last on the rope that was suspended over the rings. Up with him were several foreign acrobats all performing flips off the swinging trapezes. There was one woman spinning on a rope suspended from a high beam. They were human. But watching the real flying man fly through them with loop-de-loops, Bernum wondered once again why they didn’t just take care of Omoni themselves. They had more than the capacity for it.

“Hey.”

Bernum felt something graze off the hate ward that surrounded his torso from his belt. He turned with a start, blinking at the guard who shared the same startled look with him, while cradling his hand.

“Oh, Magician.” The guard took another step back. “What are you doing here in the shadows?”

Frowning, Bernum looked up at the flying man then ducked into the shadow more, whispering. “I wasn’t sure they wanted me to watch their performances. I didn’t want them to see me.”

The guard nodded, gazing up at the flying man, shuddering also. “Yes. I can understand that. They’re frightening beasts, aren’t they?”

Pulling closer to him, Bernum said in an even lower voice, “What is with them, by the way? They obviously don’t like working for Merchant Omoni. Why do