The Last Spell Read online

  Gone, gone, gone.

  Kara clamped her temples between her hands. It felt like someone was scraping the inside of her mind with a serrated spoon, bringing to mind an afternoon of carving jack-o’-lanterns with her mother.

  As soon as the memory rose to the forefront of her mind it was stolen.

  The leech’s mouth closed, its appetite sated. For now.

  “Kara?” Taff asked, his voice trembling with concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Kara realized that her head was cradled in his lap. She had no idea when that had happened.

  “I’m all right now,” Kara said. “I just need to rest for a minute.”

  “Too much magic, just like I thought,” said Grace. “I knew you weren’t powerful enough to cast a spell like that.”

  Grace beamed proudly, like a student who gives a correct answer to a particularly difficult question. She scanned the campsite, perhaps for someone to appreciate this imagined victory.

  “Is she right?” Taff asked. “Did you use too much magic?”

  Kara nodded. “More or less. The mind-bridge with Topper is different than the regular kind. It’s . . . hungrier. And it takes memories whether I want it to or not.”

  Taff gasped audibly.

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Really dangerous,” Grace added, with more curiosity than concern.

  “You should stop the spell now,” Taff said. “We’ll figure out another way to—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Kara said.

  “You can’t do everything by yourself!”

  “I don’t have to,” Kara said, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I have you.”

  “Oh yes,” Grace said. “The whelp was so useful just now. I mean, without him—”

  Even in her weakened state, Kara’s glare was enough to stop Grace from continuing.

  “She’s right,” Taff said, eyes downcast. “What can I really do?”

  “You’re the smartest boy in the world,” Kara said. “And without you, we never would have gotten this far. Now help me up, little man. We have to get to that tower. Fast.”

  The mare and the girl had been through a lot together, and Shadowdancer sensed Kara’s urgency without the need for magic. As soon as the two girls had mounted her back, the horse shot off through the silence of the evernight, galloping past ramrod-still nut sedge and rivers frozen without ice, her hooves pounding clods of dust into the air. The two other animals struggled to keep pace. Darno, his scorpion tail just long enough to curl around Taff like a belt, wore his usual determined expression, but the smile had vanished from Topper’s face. He lagged behind the others, his tongue lolling from side to side. Kara was trying to figure out if the mind-bridge was somehow affecting him as well when she was struck by a spate of dizziness and almost fell off Shadowdancer’s back.

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling Grace’s hands around her waist, propping her up.

  “If something happens to you,” Grace said, “I think there’s at least the possibility that I’ll be stuck in this moment forever. So if you’re going to die, do it later.”

  “Your concern is touching.”

  During the journey she lost several more memories, mostly of her first friend, a girl who had refused to play with Kara anymore after Mother’s execution. Good riddance, she thought, trying to remember what the girl had looked like, or what games they had played together, or even her name. She knew the memory was there, but she didn’t know where to find it. It was like searching for a chip of obsidian in a pitch-black room.

  By the time they reached the Hourglass Tower, Kara no longer remembered that her friend had ever existed at all.

  “Big place,” Taff said, dismounting Darno and stretching his legs. “What do you think’s inside?”

  Kara checked to make sure that Grace wasn’t listening.

  “Answers about the Vulkera,” she whispered.

  “Got it,” Taff whispered back. He paused. “What’s the Vulkera?”

  “Sorry—I forgot to tell you. Bethany said that’s what the princess’s grimoire is called.”

  “Swell,” Taff said, considering this. “It gets its own special name. Like it’s not scary enough already.”

  The tower was neck-crackingly tall. Stairs wound from the ground to a center point between the upper and lower halves, where a wooden door had been set into the stone. The tower was crumbling in several areas, and thousands of gouges marred the surface, as though some beast had tried to scratch its way inside.

  “Stay here, girl,” Kara told Shadowdancer, patting her flank. “You too,” she said to Darno.

  The wolf ignored Kara completely and started up the stairs. His job was to protect her, whether she liked it or not.

  “Look at Topper!” Taff exclaimed.

  The yonstaff was leaping from side to side with renewed energy. That wasn’t the thing that caught Kara’s attention, however.

  Topper’s pendulum tail was ticking back and forth.

  “I don’t get it,” Taff said. “I thought his tail only moved when time did.”

  The air around the tower was still static, their voices still oddly muffled. But back along the road, time’s resurrection was revealed in rustling leaves and quaking branches. An owl swooped down from the treetops to snatch an unsuspecting rodent.

  “Time is already frozen inside the Hourglass Tower,” Kara said, “and we’re probably standing close enough to fall under that spell. Topper doesn’t need to use his powers here.”

  The mind-bridge between them still remained, however, and while Kara had grown fond of the friendly creature, she knew it was dangerous to keep him any longer than necessary.

  “Hey there,” Kara said. “Time to say good-bye.”

  She bent down so Topper could lick her face. His breath smelled of morning dew, exactly how she imagined it. While Taff stroked behind Topper’s ears, Kara shook the mind-bridge until the leeches fell away and the entire thing crumbled into dust.

  Topper vanished.

  “I wish we could have kept that little guy,” Taff said. “I really liked him.”

  “Me too,” Kara said.

  They had barely started up the stairs when there was a loud rattle, like someone shaking the bars of a massive gate, and trees, field, and sky were replaced with a starless night in all directions.

  “Where are we?” Grace asked.

  “Not where,” Taff said. “When.”

  “Fine. When are we?”

  “No idea.”

  Despite the darkness the steps were easy enough to see, as though the tower itself provided some sort of interior light. A patch of ground still remained at its foundation, allowing a very nervous-looking Shadowdancer room to prance back and forth.

  Be brave, Kara told the mare. I’ll be back soon.

  She hoped that was the truth.

  The stairs winding around the tower had seen better days, and on several occasions the children had to leap across a span of crumbling steps or creep along a ledge. By the time they finally reached the entrance they were all exhausted. Kara’s legs felt weak and wobbly, but she knew that her discomfort must pale in comparison to Grace’s, whose cane had tapped each and every step.

  The tower door was open.

  Inside, the air was cool and humid, like a cave. Torches lit the circular room, their unflickering flames providing just enough light to illuminate the clocks packing the shelves. There were hundreds of them—maybe thousands—in every size and shape imaginable. Most featured an hour and minute hand along with the standard face, though some clocks—especially those along the top shelves—barely resembled traditional timepieces at all: a golden ring spinning upon the second of five wooden spindles; a tri-chambered hourglass partially filled with brackish liquid; a pair of ochre boxes labeled TIME WASTED and TIME SAVED.

  “This place is amazing!” Taff exclaimed. He skipped from wonder to wonder—running his fingers along a shimmering pendulum, plunging his hand wrist-deep into a chest overflowin
g with silver cogs. It was too much to take in all at once.

  Grace looked far less impressed.

  “Well,” she said, a sardonic tilt to her lips. “I guess whoever lives here always knows what time it is.”

  A door squeaked opened and a small figure entered the chamber.

  He was no taller than Taff but had the broad shoulders and weathered face of an adult. Beneath a checkered vest he wore a crisp white shirt, and his neat beard was freshly oiled and redolent of ginger. A long nose hooked downward beneath eyes as dark as charred wood.

  “We’re sorry for the intrusion,” Kara said. “But the door was open and we thought it would be all right if—”

  Holding up a finger, the man withdrew a watch resting in the outside pocket of his vest. It looked old but very well maintained, and was attached to a lower button of his vest by an expensive gold chain. He flicked its lid open with a practiced movement and nodded with approval, as though Kara had arrived on time for a previously scheduled appointment.

  “No need to apologize,” the man said, his voice as smooth as warm honey. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s a large tower for a small man, and occasionally I like to hear a voice that’s not my own.”

  “Are you Querin Fyndrake?” Kara asked.

  The man bowed with an elaborate flourish.

  “At your service, my lady,” he said.

  Querin kissed the back of her hand, one arm folded carefully behind his back. He started to reach out for Grace’s hand as well but reconsidered upon seeing her disgusted expression.

  “It must have taken some crafty magic to get here,” Querin said. He made no eye contact when he talked; instead, his eyes flicked from side to side, as though watching the progress of some unseen pendulum. “I’m impressed. Still, stopping the flow of time is not something you want to mess around with at your age, even a wexari as powerful as you, Kara.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I’m in the business of knowing things.” He pointed to each of them in turn. “Your brother, Taff, and your . . . traveling companion, Grace Stone.” His eyes fell on Darno with just a hint of apprehension. “I’m not sure . . . what . . . exactly . . .”

  “His name’s Darno,” Kara said. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you.”

  Unless you want me to, Darno told her.

  Be nice.

  “Are you a wizard?” Taff asked.

  Querin smiled, revealing gold incisors along his lower row of teeth.

  “Depends on your definition,” he said. “As you must know—because you found me—I’ve been alive a good deal longer than your average man. So yes, I do have some knowledge of magic—but mostly I think of myself as an honest craftsman.”

  Kara nodded politely, though she couldn’t help thinking of one of Mother’s favorite sayings: A man who claims to be honest is usually anything but.

  “Enough about me,” Querin said, waving them along. “You look famished. Join me in the Slanting Hall. Let’s continue this discussion over dinner.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Taff, who had been complaining of an empty stomach their entire climb up the tower.

  “I appreciate the offer,” Kara said, “but time is of the essence, and I think you might be able to help us. My father said—”

  “Hush, child, hush,” Querin said. “Time does not pass inside the Hourglass Tower. There is no hurry at all. You will return to the real world at the exact moment you left it.”

  Kara looked at Taff, who made a begging motion with his hands, and Grace, who shrugged indifferently.

  “In that case, dinner sounds lovely,” Kara said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It is my pleasure,” Querin said, guiding her deeper into the tower. “I have visitors so infrequently. I do like to make the most of them.”

  The Slanting Hall lived up to its name. Walking from one end to the other was like navigating a particularly steep hill. At either end loomed tall wooden doors. Upon first glance Kara thought that they were just heavily scratched, but while Querin prepared their meal she examined the lower door and saw that it was not scratches that marred its surface after all.

  It was names.

  The letters varied in size and shape, from careful etchings (ALEXANDRA, JULIAN) to less-practiced work (TULA in block letters, JAMES with the s reversed). In most cases only the first name had been carved into the wood, but occasionally a surname made an appearance as well. Some were written in alphabets that Kara did not recognize.

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Grace said.

  Kara nodded. “For once I agree with you.”

  “People carve their names in trees for fun,” Taff said. “Could it be like that?”

  “I doubt it’s that simple,” Kara said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it never is.”

  Kara pressed all her weight against the door. It didn’t budge. There was no knocker, no handle. She felt something when she touched its surface, however, a thrumming that passed through her skin and rattled her bones. Grace, her palm pressed against the wood, met Kara’s eyes, and unspoken words passed between them: There’s powerful magic behind this door.

  By the time Querin had returned, carrying a tray piled high with food, the trio had retreated to the center table. Its legs had been cut shorter on one end in order to compensate for the tilted floor.

  “What’s with all the names on those doors?” Grace asked before Querin had even placed the tray on the table. “Even for a man who lives alone in a tower—that’s pretty strange.”

  “Grace,” Kara said pointedly. “Let’s not offend our host.”

  “I’m just asking a question. It’s not my fault if he gets offended. Besides, if they’re the names of his victims or something, the sooner we know the—”

  “Grace!”

  She crossed her arms in a huff. “Like you weren’t thinking it.”

  “The doors lead to the upper and lower portions of the tower,” Querin said, ladling out stew with thick crusts of bread.

  “And the names?” Kara asked.

  “Eat first,” Querin said, offering Kara a steaming bowl. “You must be famished.”

  Kara didn’t like the way Querin avoided the question, but she took the stew anyway.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I know this is strange manners, but could I give a bowl to my wolf as well?”

  Querin held his palms up and smiled.

  “The last thing I want under my roof is a hungry wolf.”

  Kara placed the bowl of stew at Darno’s feet. The scorpion-wolf sniffed it carefully and then began to lap it up. If it were poisoned or magically altered, Darno would have sensed it and warned her.

  “Cautious one, aren’t you?” Querin asked, smiling at Kara appraisingly. He shoved a heaping spoonful of stew into his mouth. “See. Perfectly safe.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kara said, embarrassed that Querin knew the real reason she had fed Darno first. “We tend to find ourselves among people who mean us harm.”

  “I understand your caution,” Querin said. “But you can relax. You’re safe here. I only want to help you.”

  Kara started on her stew, which was oddly sweet but otherwise flavorful enough. She worked around the chunks of meat, having lost her appetite for dead animal about the time she came into her powers.

  Querin put his spoon down and rested his chin on his folded hands.

  “You see this magnificent tower, tucked away in time, and I’m sure you’re dying of curiosity about the man who could make such wonders possible,” he said. “Would you like the short or the long version?”

  “I’m partial to the truth,” Kara said.

  “The short version, then,” replied Querin. “Less embellishment. Do you know the story of how the four regions of Sentium were formed?”

  Kara remembered what Lucas’s grandfather had taught them during their journey from Nye’s Landing to the Swoop station, and responded:

  “King Penta, after defeating
the witches two thousand years ago, wanted the world to start all over again. He destroyed any mention of magic from the history books and buried Sablethorn, a school for wexari. Then he broke the kingdom into four regions, each specializing in a different field of study: Ilma, Kutt, Lux, and Auren.”

  Grace looked completely lost, and Kara couldn’t help feeling a tiny thrill of satisfaction. Back in De’Noran, the fen’de’s daughter had always been quick to impress Master Blackwood with the correct answer, whereas Kara had been afraid to even raise her hand.

  “You know your history,” acknowledged Querin. “Or, at least, the history that the people of Sentium have chosen to remember. But there was almost a fifth region. Kronia. My people. We had been studying the mysteries of time for centuries, and we offered the king a golden opportunity: turn back the clock, undo the damage the witches had done.” Querin’s thick eyebrows sloped downward in anger. “The fool spurned us. He claimed that what we were doing was too dangerous, too much like magic for his liking.”

  “That was thousands of years ago,” Grace said, “but you talk about it like you were there.”

  “I was,” Querin said in surprise, as though this were obvious. “Time no longer moves forward for me. Actually, that’s not exactly true. When I leave the Hourglass Tower, as I do when need warrants, the minutes of my life tick along as always. But as long as I remain within these hallowed walls, I am essentially immortal.”

  Since following a one-eyed bird into the Thickety, Kara had learned many things about magic, but the single overriding principal was that the more powerful the spell, the higher the cost. A feat as mighty as everlasting life would require a fearsome price.

  The names on the doors. What do they mean?

  She looked at Querin and for a moment glimpsed the sly, calculating stare of a cold-blooded reptile. The look was gone as quickly as it came, however, and Querin smiled broadly.

  “As the king’s head scientist,” he continued, “I knew it was crucial to prove to King Penta that he was wrong, that Kronia needed to be at the forefront of this new world he was shaping. I pushed my experiments to the extreme in order to bend time to my will. I did things that not even Minoth Dravania and his precious wexari had ever dreamed possible!”