Faust waved Rene off and walked toward the small shop, Ignas just beside him. He opened the door. The bell chimed, and he sauntered past piles of old mechanics as he ventured farther into the store. Books lined the back walls and various dress forms carried older style clothing. He stopped in front of a design of a short blue tunic and a sparkling blue necklace. A sheer cape fell behind it, pinned to the shoulders, it carried a sense of familiarity to Faust.
“Oh my,” a voice called from the back, “such a young visitor.”
Faust turned with a pleasant smile. “I love artifacts. They have stories to tell.” The fellow was older-looking than Ignas but appeared friendly.
The man cracked a smile. “And what can I do for you, Lord Arcus?”
Faust faltered.
Ignas sidestepped in front of Faust.
“There is no need to be alarmed. Word travels fast here, you see? Our guild prides itself on the wealth of information,” the man said, narrowing his eyes.
Faust touched Ignas’s arm. He didn’t want to start a fight in here. “I have come to learn that. There is much I would like to know, and only the Guild of Masters can give me those answers.” Faust motioned to the blue tunic next to him. “Like this, for example. I gather it has quite the history. I have seen plenty of smaller displays of blue all over the shops. I gather that there is a secret among the people in the Kingdom of Roltan.”
The merchant gave a sly smile. “A great secret. One that does not come free.”
Faust suspected as much. “This outfit belongs to the being of the sky.” It was different, but it might have belonged to Linos. The shortness of it matched the small glimpses of the deity in his visions.
“The Kingdom of Roltan is the land of the sky and wind.” The merchant continued to smile. “Listen well, and it may tell you its secrets.”
The wind. Linos controlled the wind. “I will listen. Thank you,” Faust said.
The man bowed.
Faust turned on his heel and tugged on Ignas’s hand.
“You aren’t going to ask more?” Ignas inquired.
“He will not part with any more,” Faust whispered and pulled the door open. A soothing wind brushed against his face, and he paused. It caressed his skin and flowed away in a great arc, carrying a wisp of magic with it. Faust brushed back against it, but the magic vanished.
The store bell chimed one last time when Ignas joined Faust. They waited for Rene and Zara in silence, but the wind continued to press at Faust’s back. He closed his eyes and focused on the magic of the city, not surprised at the magnitude of water stones, but there was a lack of sky stones. He thought there would be more.
Faust stretched his senses farther and a smile worked its way onto his lips. There they were. The capital of Roltan, Whitrose, contained the most sky stones, and a rather strong one was headed this way.
“What are you doing?” Ignas interrupted.
Faust opened his eyes. “Checking for enemies,” he lied.
Ignas raised his eyebrows in question. “And how do you determine that?”
“There is a lack of earth stones, and it is not as suffocating. Limorous always felt like the plants were one step from attacking me, but here,” Faust paused, “I do not feel any of that.”
“You’ve been hiding your abilities for a long time.”
“You already know that.”
“I suppose I do.” Ignas shrugged. “You should be careful, though.”
Faust nodded. He was aware he was using his magic too much. His magic was far stronger than the usual stone user, and it would leave traces for Lathil. He listened to the wind again, content with the peace the Kingdom of Roltan’s wind brought him. He was welcome here, as if he were coming home.
The buildings had more triangular roofs and spires, giving the city a feeling it was reaching for the sky. Storefronts were open, with large windows, painted doors, and decorated signs. The paths were wide enough for three carriages, and the people spoke to one another in passing. He wished Limorous was this inviting.
The wind whispered in Faust’s ear. It rustled his cloak next, and Faust took a step forward. It whistled a sharp command to move, to run. Faust darted across the cobblestone path before he could stop himself, the urgency from the wind pressing at his back.
“Lord Arcus?” Ignas blurted, taking off after Faust.
Faust stopped, but the wind once again pushed against his back. He needed to keep moving. Faust shot Ignas one glance and advanced.
Running footsteps chased after them, and Faust felt Rene’s magic brush against his in question. He didn’t bother turning around, Rene would follow. The wind turned toward the main street, and he jerked to follow, his heels clicking against the cobblestone.
The wind danced and twirled in a slow pathway.
Faust’s sky stone flickered in response. He hadn’t poured any magic into it. A different magic hit his senses, and he halted.
Ignas skid to a stop with a grunt. “What’s wrong?”
“There is a strong stone user around here,” Faust said. It wasn’t earth magic, but fire and water. He glanced at their surroundings with a frown. “There are no people here.”
Rene came to a stop behind the pair, Zara at his side. “You should know what to do.”
Faust nodded. There was a small spark of water before them. They’d walked right into an illusion. The stone user may have made a considerable water veil, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop him.
Ignas grabbed for his gun with a side-glance to Faust. “You shouldn’t.”
“It will be fine,” Faust promised. He reached out with his magic and the water tapped back at him. Faust grabbed hold and yanked his hand back. The water spiraled and distorted their surroundings. He twirled it, and his own water stone sparked—the water disappeared.
A young man, perhaps younger than himself, stood in front of Faust. His hair was dark, his skin pale, and his eyes a dark blue. Faust tilted his head. He was not the caster, but he was a fire and water stone user.
Two knights stepped forward, their armor decorated in blue, appeared more ceremonial than actual battle armor.
The young man raised his hand. “There is no need.”
“We have our orders,” a knight clipped.
Faust suspected these were the royal guards of the Kingdom of Roltan—the Verdine Knights. “And to who do I owe the honor of such a reception?”
“My father has decided to see you,” the young man said. “I am Yoan, son of Terrence Clare, the leader of the Guild of Masters.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Clare’s Regalia,” Faust read. The shop held intricate metal crests of the Kingdom of Roltan from the awning, and glistening jewelry sat just beyond the large glass window. It was a level above the rest and gave Faust the impression the goods fetched a high price. He glanced to the knights at the door. It was the only shop with four guards.
“Pay the knights no mind. We’ve had them around for years.” Yoan opened the door for Faust, glancing at the rest of the group. “Father has only approved to meet with Lord Arcus at this time.”
“I cannot allow him to be alone,” Rene said. “He gets into far too much trouble when he is unsupervised.”