The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown. Adam Epstein

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СКАЧАТЬ you’ve got me confused,” said the beaver. “Are you looking for a man or for Agorus?”

      “They’re one and the same,” said Feynam, growing impatient.

      “Then you’re out of luck,” replied the beaver. “It’s a shame too. If you had been here looking for a beaver named Agorus, you would have found him.”

      The group stared back at him in disbelief. He smiled and gave a little wave.

      “You are the famed architect Agorus?” asked Feynam.

      Aldwyn had known at once that it was true, recognising that yet again they had made a wrong, very human, assumption – that man was responsible for the greatness of Vastia’s past rather than animals.

      “You’re a beaver,” exclaimed a startled Gilbert, giving voice to the surprise that could be read on everybody’s face.

      “Well, I should hope so,” said Agorus. “That’s how I left this life, and that’s how I’ve stayed. Although if reincarnation were a possibility, I always wondered what it would be like to come back as a gazelle – a handsome, elegant creature indeed. Now tell me, blue bird, how many years have passed since the Turn? Two, three?”

      “A little over four thousand,” said Skylar.

      “Huh. Time goes fast in the Tomorrowlife. It seems like just yesterday I was overseeing the team of Farsand lifting-spiders who built the Shifting Fortress. I’m sure you noticed their insignia carved into the stone.” Agorus gestured to the circle on the cornerstone with the eight lines sticking out of it. “Amazing creatures. Ten times the size of regular spiders, with webbing strong enough to carry a boulder. But none of it would have been possible without my meticulous design. And the Fortress – what a miracle of engineering it was, if I do say so myself! Walls as strong as steel, a casting tower that could spread magic from Liveod’s Canyon to the southern tip of the ever-flowing Enaj, and a teleportation globe buried into the glass floor, randomly spinning so the Fortress never appeared in the same place twice, making it impossible to ever lay siege to it.”

      “We come with a question in dire need of an answer,” interrupted Skylar. “Is there another way to summon the Shifting Fortress beside the wooden bracelet?”

      “Wooden bracelet?” asked Agorus. “I’m not sure what a wooden bracelet has to do with the Shifting Fortress.”

      “My bracelet,” said Queen Loranella. “It was a relic possessed by my great-grandfather, the king. I retrieved it from the Sunken Palace during the Dead Army Uprising.”

      “You speak of a history I am unaware of. Back in my day, the Shifting Fortress was not summoned by some wooden trinket. There was meant to be only one way to bring forth the mighty tower. Seek the Crown of the Snow Leopard! That is how the First Phylum intended it.”

      “Please, slow down,” said Skylar. “First Phylum, Crown of the Snow Leopard… knowledge of these things has been lost to time.”

      “The First Phylum are the seven tribes that ruled over Vastia,” said Agorus with an exasperated sigh. Suddenly, his faint glow began to disappear. “The strongest and most powerful wizards of the…”

      “Wait, don’t go,” pleaded Skylar.

      But it was too late. The mist pulled Agorus away. His voice trailed off as his form dissipated into the Tomorrowlife once more.

      “I’m afraid your components were too weak to hold the spell,” said Feynam.

      Aldwyn thought there was no need for the elder to rub it in – he could see that Skylar was disappointed in herself by the way her wings slouched and her beak hung down.

      “But it was enough time to get a clue,” said Queen Loranella. “The Crown of the Snow Leopard,” she repeated aloud. “If we find this magical item, perhaps the tide can still be turned.”

      “In all my years of study, I have never heard of such a crown,” said Sorceress Edna. “And my memory is like that of a steel trap. Nothing escapes it.”

      Though Skylar had succeeded in contacting Agorus, they were left with new mysteries – what was the Crown of the Snow Leopard? Where would they be able to find it? What did it have to do with the Shifting Fortress? And what was the First Phylum? Aldwyn knew he wasn’t going to be of much assistance in answering these questions, seeing how his knowledge of all things magical was still in its infancy.

      “Hmm-hm hm hm-hmm hm hm…” someone began to hum.

      Everyone turned to see who the off-key tune was coming from: it was Gilbert.

      “Sorry,” said the tree frog when he felt everybody’s eyes resting on him. “I don’t do well with uncomfortable silences.”

      “We’ll have to search through the dustiest of tomes to have any chance of learning about the Crown and its whereabouts,” said Queen Loranella. “I suggest we start at the Vastian Historical Archives.”

      Skylar was still collecting her components, and Aldwyn couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather drained, almost as if her blue sheen had lost a little of its lustre. As she took to the air, a pair of her tail feathers dropped to the ground. Feynam walked up alongside her, and Aldwyn overheard him whisper, “Remember what I said, little bird. There will be consequences.”

      The wizards’ and familiars’ arrival at the Historical Archives, just outside Bronzhaven, marked a reunion with an old friend – Scribius. The enchanted quill pen, which had helped guide the familiars on their quest to the Sunken Palace, had spent the last month happily transcribing the details of their adventure on the Vastian time line. Upon seeing its former companions, the metal and feather writing tool glided across the long wooden tabletop where it’d been working and executed an elegant curlicue before them.

      “Scribius!” exclaimed Gilbert. “So this is where you’ve been keeping busy. Pretty fancy for a pen from the Runlet.”

      Indeed it was. The Historical Archives was more than just the grandest library in all of Vastia; it was a two-storey museum of the queendom’s past – the most recent past, anyway. Hanging against the red velvet wallpaper were large tapestries of old kings and early maps of the countryside. Pear-shaped globes sat on pedestals around the room, and they would have been spinning had it not been for Paksahara’s disenchantment spell. Open cabinets were stuffed with history scrolls. And there was no lack of books – shelves of them on the walls, piles stacked fifty high on the floor, and tables with tomes too heavy to lift. Only a handful of dedicated scholars were studying the folios during this time of crisis, so the team of magical animals and their loyals nearly had the run of the place. One or two of the civilians recognised the queen and bowed before her, but there was little time for formalities.

      “Let’s all split up,” said Queen Loranella. “There’s an awful lot of ground to cover if we hope to find some mention of this Crown of the Snow Leopard. Feynam, peruse the Encyclopedia of Artifacts. Edna, you and I shall check all the diaries of kings and queens of yore. Children, see if there’s anything in the old Wizard Almanacs. Start with the earliest editions.”

      Everyone dispersed. Feynam headed for the second floor with Ramoth, his firescale snake, slithering behind him. Loranella СКАЧАТЬ