The Vengekeep Prophecies (31 page)

“So what do we do?” Callie asked. “Do we have to say any spells or anything?”

I shook my head. “The solvent's not magic, remember? Let's lay the tapestry on the street so I can pour the solvent over it. And at that point, if you'd like to say a little prayer, I think that would be okay.”

Talian agreed. “Callie, climb on my shoulders.”

He bent over and Callie did as she was told. I waited with the solvent as Talian stood to his full height and Callie reached up for the tapestry. It hung just beyond her grasp. She stretched with her good arm, grunting with effort.

As her fingers grazed the edge of the tapestry, something happened. Every balanx stopped. As one, their jaws dropped and their terrible screech rang through every city street. Suddenly, they all turned and flew directly toward us. Within moments, they were all swooping down, swiping at us with skeletal talons and claws.

Talian stumbled, sending him and Callie to the ground. I covered my head with one hand and lugged the bucket of solvent behind the rubble that was once a cheesemonger's shop. “Over here!”

Talian and Callie scrambled across the street, avoiding the onslaught of balanx who hovered over the pub where the tapestry hung.

“What's going on?” Callie asked, holding her sore arm.

Talian shook his head. “It's the fateskein. I think it knows what we're up to. It's protecting itself.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “We've got one chance, Jaxter. Callie and I will draw them away. You go for the tapestry.” He turned to his cousin, whose eyes had grown dark when she realized what he was saying. “Ready?”

She nodded. As one, they bolted from where we hid, each running in a different direction. The ploy had the desired effect. The balanx, confused for a moment, divided, half chasing Talian, the other half pursuing Callie. I eyed the pub. If I climbed the drainpipe on the side of the building, I could pull the tapestry down. It just meant fending off my clumsiness for one, shining moment.

I took a deep breath and jumped out. But I'd gone only two steps before I fell face-first onto the street. I knew on the way down, though, it wasn't my fault. A leg had swept out of nowhere and tripped me. My glasses flew from my face, landing beyond my reach. I looked up, half-blind, and saw Edilman's blurry form charge across the street. Before I could stand, he'd shimmied up the drainpipe and snagged the tapestry.

I retrieved the bucket of solvent and ran at him, but he held the tapestry away from me. “This ends now, Jaxter,” he warned. “Give me the solvent.”

I couldn't see Callie and Talian or the balanx that pursued them. But the second Edilman grabbed the tapestry, the creatures appeared above to protect it. The skeletons shot up into the air, screeching, and dove down toward us. Edilman didn't even see them; his eyes never left the bucket of solvent.

He was right. I had to end this now. I glared at the tapestry in Edilman's fist and, raising the pail, I took aim and tossed the solvent.

In a panic, Edilman attempted to shield the tapestry and both got doused. The boiling liquid hissed as it made contact with fateskein and flesh. Edilman dropped the tapestry and clutched his face, screaming as the wraithweed acid burned away at his skin. He ran blindly to a nearby watering trough and threw himself in to wash away the solvent.

The tapestry smoked as red and blue sparks shot out. The brown fabric quickly dissolved, great chunks falling away, eating themselves and turning to small piles of ash. The prophecies burned as the fateskein crackled, its power vanishing.

High overhead, the balanx gave a final cry of agony. I looked up to see the skeletons, their necks arched backward as they screeched. Then, as one, the balanx collapsed, showering Vengekeep with their brittle bones. The air still stank of smoke and dust. People still cried and screamed. But it was over.

“Innocence is a multicolored cloak.”

—
Ancient par-Goblin proverb

A
week later, with Vengekeep still struggling to rebuild, the Grimjinxes were cordially invited to an assembly in the town-state council chambers. The sort of cordial invitation we'd become accustomed to: enforced by an armed escort.

My family, Callie, and Talian all sat on one side of the massive wooden table that split the chamber in two. On the other side sat the Castellan, the High Laird's Chancellor, Captain Aronas, and a woman we were introduced to as Neryn Hordrin, the head of the town-state council. You'd never guess they'd all been saved from disaster, the way they were scowling.

Standing behind them were three mages—two women and a man—in skullcaps and burgundy robes with golden embroidery. The clear jewels sewn on their robed shoulders like rank insignias identified them as members of the Palatinate's Lordcourt. While the Castellan and the other Vengekeep officials stared at me and my family, the Lord Mages watched Talian intently as he offered his version of events.

“So you see,” Talian said, decked out in his emerald mage robes and matching skullcap, “it occurred to me on my journey from the Palatinate to Vengekeep that while a curse couldn't possibly have been placed on the entire town-state, there was a very real possibility that a curse had been placed on the
tapestry.
In the five centuries that Vengekeep has heeded the tapestries of the Twins, never once have they predicted such horrible events. It seemed logical to conclude that a curse to create these terrible events had been placed on the tapestry years ago. Quite possibly just as it was first sealed into its glass tube.”

The Castellan threw a cautious look over his shoulder to the Lord Mages, who frowned as one. For a long time, they said nothing. Then one of the Lord Mages cleared her throat. She'd introduced herself at the start of the proceedings as Nalia. She looked slightly younger than Ma, with shiny black hair that stopped near her chin. In her right eye, she held an elegant, gold-rimmed monocle. Officially, no single member of the Lordcourt outranked another. But I got the idea the other two mages deferred to her.

“Our investigation has concluded,” said Nalia, “that the source of Vengekeep's problems has indeed been eliminated.” I found my eyes going to her often. Her raven-colored hair reminded me of Ma, but there was nothing gentle in her stony face. And from time to time, I caught her stealing glances at me.

As one, the Castellan and Aronas exhaled. It had taken a week of pleading to convince the Chancellor and the Lordcourt to enter the city gates in order to verify that the “curse” had been lifted.

“Although,” Nalia continued, raising an eyebrow at Talian, “we are curious about reports that you had disappeared, Master Talian. You had been branded a deserter.”

Talian nodded. “An unfortunate misunderstanding. As I contemplated Vengekeep's woes on the trip back, it occurred to me that spiderbat milk might counteract the curse. I was travelling through Cindervale, on my way to the aircaves, when I was mistakenly arrested.”

This was the riskiest part of Talian's story. It wouldn't take much to verify that Talian had been living in Cindervale for weeks, not just passing through. But if anyone suspected he was lying, no one said a word.

“I realize now that my haste to save Vengekeep prevented me from sending word of my plan to the Palatinate. I can understand why they would believe I'd gone rogue, and their actions were just. I only regret that my thoughtlessness caused such confusion.”

Under the table, I felt Callie squeeze my knee with her good arm and I gave a secret nod. We'd all spent the better part of this last week crafting an airtight story that cast Talian in the role of hero and kept my family as far removed from this as possible. Now, reciting with absolute conviction this slightly skewed version of events, Talian could teach my family a thing or two about believable lies.

Captain Aronas narrowed his eyes at Vengekeep's new town mage. “And you had nothing to do with this … cursebreaker?”

Talian shook his head. “No. In fact, I don't believe he was a cursebreaker of any kind. When I arrived to destroy the tapestry, he attempted to stop me. In our struggle, I noticed a brand on his forearm. I believe him to be an escaped criminal under death sentence.” At this, Talian turned to the Chancellor. “You might check with the Provincial Guard to see if they have any records of someone matching the man's description. He disappeared after the tapestry was destroyed.”

My mind flashed to Edilman. I wondered if there ever really was a ship that could take him from the Provinces and his death sentence. Was he headed there now? Or was the ship just another lie and had he already moved on to his next con?

“A curse on the tapestry makes sense,” Jorn said thoughtfully. “It could explain why the Grimjinxes were so cruelly thrust into the middle of all this.”

He wasn't fooling anyone. What he really meant was
A curse is the only thing that would ever make the Grimjinxes out to be heroes.
But Jorn was smart to hide his contempt.

Talian shrugged. “Perhaps. As it is, I do need to thank Jaxter Grimjinx. He proved invaluable by assisting me in the tapestry's destruction. That part of the prophecy played out correctly: a Grimjinx
did
contribute to the salvation of Vengekeep.”

I blinked. This hadn't been part of the story we'd rehearsed. But Talian had found a way to acknowledge my role without casting suspicion on my family. I did my best to smile modestly at the panel of magistrates. But, and I'm just being honest, Grimjinxes are terrible at modesty.

Nalia raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. How fortunate young Jaxter was there to help.” My eyes met hers again and I was certain she was looking through me.

The Castellan folded his hands and leaned forward. “It's a shame the curse tainted the tapestry's true message. Apparently, we'll have to rely on our own mettle and deal with what comes the rest of the year without any guidance.” He never took his eyes off Ma and Da, who smiled innocently back at him. I got the idea that he still wasn't convinced of Talian's story, but at this point, I think he was so happy that the quarantine had been lifted and the disasters were over that he'd decided not to push the issue.

The other female Lord Mage—Lorina—held out a piece of parchment. “With the question of your ‘desertion' put to rest,” she said to Talian, in a far kinder tone than Nalia's, “I am to offer you a commendation for your role in the capture of the renegade, Xerrus.”

Talian nodded humbly. “Thank you. It was shocking to learn of the existence of an Onyx Fortress. I hope it will be destroyed as the others were.”

I sensed tension between Talian and the Lord Mages. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought there was a tone of accusation in Talian's voice. If the Lord Mages were offended by the mild challenge, they gave no sign. Nalia smiled a distant, ingenuous smile and said, “The matter is being dealt with as we speak.”

The male Lord Mage, whose name I'd missed, nodded. “It seems Vengekeep will be busy rebuilding. As we're no longer needed, we'll be returning to the Palatinate.”

Talian rose and bowed to the Lord Mages, who returned the gesture. He followed them out of the room with the High Laird's Chancellor in tow. As the rest of us stood, Neryn, the head of the town-state council, said, “Just a moment.”

We all froze. The Castellan and Aronas looked at each other and scowled. But as Neryn turned to address my parents, she smiled widely. “Mr. Grimjinx, the town-state council met recently to discuss your role in recent events.”

We Grimjinxes all looked to one another, each of our brains readying an alibi to protect us from whatever she said next.

“You showed a great deal of courage and leadership during the crises,” Neryn continued. “You assisted the Castellan with a plan to save the town-state from flooding, you and your family provided disaster relief during the firestorm, and you consistently came to Vengekeep's aid throughout these trying times.” She paused, tilting her head just slightly. “Not quite what we've come to expect from the Grimjinxes, to be sure.”

“Oh, we're full of surprises,” Nanni said.

Neryn concurred. “The town-state council asked me to convey their deepest
regrets
”—she hit the last word, casting a glare at the Castellan and Aronas—“at your arrest and treatment when the alleged cursebreaker arrived. This was not a fitting response to someone who had spent the preceding months defending Vengekeep. To acknowledge the contribution you've made and to demonstrate the trust you have earned, we would like to offer you the post of Protectorate, a seat on the town-state council.”