The Vengekeep Prophecies (33 page)

“You have served your sovereign well,” she said. “Return to your duties. I will deal with the boy.”

The “guards” bowed again, shook their fists at me—I almost burst out laughing—and allowed Oxric to show them out. Now that we were alone, I straightened my shoulders to face the Dowager, meeting her eye with something I'd never had to muster before: true humility. It felt … strange.

Just as when she entered, her face grew dark and for just a moment, I wondered if she was actually considering that bizarre sparkleech punishment Ma and Da had made up. She circled me slowly, looking me up and down. I found myself wishing she would start yelling at me. The silence hurt twice as bad as any insult she might hurl.

When she finally stopped pacing, she pointed a finger at me. “You blew a hole in my wall.”

I swallowed. “Maybe I could fix it.” I didn't sound very confident. Destroyer of enchanted tapestries, yes. Stonemason, no.

“Don't think for a minute that all is forgiven,” she snapped. “I seriously considered letting them take you back to Vengekeep and doing all those horrible things.”

“Did you really?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I didn't. But I considered considering it.”

I was confused.

The Dowager took in a long breath. “You have a wall to fix. I'd be willing to bet that some jewels are missing from that box. They must be repaid. And there is trust that must be regained. I invoked royal privilege to spare you. That is not a debt to be taken lightly.”

I nodded. “I understand, Dowager. It took me a long, long time to figure it out … but I understand. We can make this work.”

The creases near her eyes smoothed out and that childlike twinkle returned to her expression. “Make no mistake,” she said, a bit softer, “that this will be hard work.”

The very idea made me shudder involuntarily. But I bowed my head in agreement.

The Dowager sighed. “Very well. You'll start immediately. I've asked Oxric to prepare your room.” She laid a finger to the side of her face. “Perhaps we should have asked your parents to send your belongings before they left.”

I waved the idea away. “I'm sure when they get back to Vengekeep, they'll—”

Wait. What?

I looked up to find the Dowager squinting, a devilish gleam replacing the innocent sparkle that normally stared back. She was far too happy with herself.

“How did you—? But they—? My parents—?” My tongue fought to find the words to express my shock. It failed miserably.

The Dowager pulled a folded piece of parchment from a pocket on the front of her uniform. She opened it to reveal a copy of the WANTED poster that Callie and I had seen in the Aviard nestvillage. I found a badly drawn picture of myself staring back. Big ears and all.

“This was sent by special courier from the Provincial Guard two days after you and your friends arrived,” she said. She glanced at the poster. “Imagine my surprise to find I had a member of the infamous Grimjinx clan under my roof.”

My head whirled. After years of playing the con artist, I'd finally been conned. “So … you were on to us from the beginning?”

“Not immediately,” she said, pocketing the poster. “When I figured out you were here under false pretenses, it was quite disappointing.”

I thought back to the night I'd found her brooding alone in the ballroom. I didn't understand then what had made her so suddenly depressed. Now I knew. She'd learned who I really was and was giving me a chance to come clean.

“You could have had us arrested at any time,” I said. “Why didn't you?”

The Dowager put an arm across my shoulders and led me up the stairs. “Surely you don't think that you and your friends were the first to try to swindle me? I can spot a fake intellect in a heartbeat. It took longer with you because … well, you weren't pretending, were you, Jaxter?”

I thought back to all the deep discussions we'd had, how we lost ourselves in research to the point where I forgot about Callie and Edilman. No. There was no way to fake that.

“I kept telling myself, ‘They're here to rob you, Annestra.' But deep down, I knew you didn't really have your heart in thievery.”

I don't know how she could have known when it was only something I'd just figured out. Then I realized: I was much better at fooling myself than I was at fooling everyone else. “How could you have known I'd come back?”

“I didn't
think
you'd come back,” she said, as we reached the second floor landing. “But I'll admit I was
hoping
I'd see you again. There's no way someone who's read
The Kolohendriseenax Formulary
, who can sit and listen to me prattle on about constellations and magic-resistant plants, who can—”

“Finish your sentences before you?” I said with a grin.

She laughed. “There's no way someone like that can stay away. I know better.”

What she meant was what I'd already said: we're too much alike.

The Dowager lifted her long, regal arm and pointed down the corridor. “I believe you know where your room is. And, Jaxter, one more thing: if I suspect for even a moment that you've returned to your thieving ways while living under my roof, I will send you back to your parents by the fastest means possible. Catapult, if necessary!”

I clenched my teeth and looked away. The Dowager nodded primly and said, “I'll expect to see you for breakfast first thing in the morning.”

I bowed at the waist. “Maybe we can find a way to change the mushrooms back into humans.”

The Dowager grimaced. “I already tried. I suppose the braincube would work better if I were a mage. I wish the Palatinate had given me instructions on its use. In any event, the servants aren't mushrooms anymore. Now they're cats.” Then her eyes glazed over with glee. “But, yes, let's work on that, shall we?”

As I lay in bed that night, I thought about giving up my life as a thief. Even if I wasn't very good, it would be hard turning my back on my upbringing completely. Devoting my life to research
seemed
ideal, but I had no guarantee I wouldn't fail. But then, some learning has failure built in; like failing to pick the Castellan's pockets. I might not succeed, but I'll come out the other end smarter … if not always richer.

While a Grimjinx might fear arrest, prosecution, and the occasional doomsday prophecy, one thing we didn't fear was a challenge. There was so much to learn, now that I wasn't fated to be a master thief. Of course, after everything that happened with the tapestry, I figured fate was
highly
overrated. Besides, as my grandfather, Sirilias Grimjinx, always said, “Fate is a lazy man's excuse for avoiding curiosity.”

I couldn't agree more.

B
RIAN
F
ARREY
acquires young adult fiction for Flux. He and he alone has the power to make you an honorary Grimjinx. (You know you want it.) He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, and you can find him online at www.grimjinx.com.

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Cover art © 2012 by Brett Helquist

Cover design by Megan Stitt

The Vengekeep Prophecies

Text copyright © 2012 by Brian Farrey

Interior illustrations and cover art copyright © 2012 by Brett Helquist

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-0-06-204928-5

EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062049308

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First Edition