Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1) by Sever Bronny Page A

sent to Hangman’s Rock.” He wondered who Livie was.
    Mrs. Stone opened her eyes and blinked, wheezing, “My word … Augum … yes, of course.”
    He carefully opened his rucksack. A tiredtweet sounded from within.
    “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Stone, but I brought a friend.” He picked up the little bird and brought it to her. “Oh, and I left the package on top of Hangman’s Rock.”
    When she saw the tiny creature, the faintest smile played across her lips. “Ah, yes, the package.” She stood, leaving the chair to rock empty, and picked up the book, titled The Wondrous Mountain City of Semadon: A Comprehensive History . She placed it on a shelf and turned to Augum. “The package was unimportant.”
    Augum’s mouth opened—Robin was right, it was just a bunch of stupid rocks!
    Mrs. Stone’s wrinkles deepened in the shadows cast by the fire. “The true test of your task was to see if you would bring this injured bird home—and you did.” She paused as if to signify the importance of what he had done.
    He blinked. “ That was the test?”
    “Indeed. Now, if I may—” She reached over with a veined hand and gave the bird the lightest tap, uttering something unintelligible. For a moment, a small light flared from the tip of her finger. The bird started flapping both wings, chirping joyfully. It flew from Augum’s hands and paraded about the room.
    Augum gaped. “But … how … what’s going on?”
    Mrs. Stone watched the bird flutter about before fetching the kettle. “You see, I shall never again teach someone the arcane art without knowing which way their moral compass points.” She gave him a piercing look. “I shall not make that mistake again.”
    The little bird landed on the iron handle of the door and tweeted sharply.
    Mrs. Stone filled the kettle with water and set it over the fire. “I think perhaps our friend would like to leave.”
    Augum carefully opened the door. The bird gave a grateful chirp and swooped outside.
    “Goodbye, little one,” he whispered, watching it disappear. He closed the door and took a seat by the fire, warming his hands.
    “Mrs. Stone—?”
    “Mmm?”
    “So does this mean I can be your apprentice?”
    “I daresay it does.”
    He tried not to grin too broadly even though his insides were doing back flips. He could not wait to share the news with Bridget. If only Sir Westwood were here! He imagined the grizzled knight clapping his back with a proud nod.
    Mrs. Stone tended to the blaze with her wooden staff. Augum was afraid it would catch fire, but when she removed it from the flames, it was not even charred.
    “The quest was a real adventure, Mrs. Stone.”
    “Was it now?”
    “Oh—yes,” and with no interruption, he spent the next while recounting the events of the previous day—the Legion; the black-robed rider and his lightning rings; meeting his new friends; the storm; the snowball fight; the invitation to go to school at his friends’ village; and finally, the village naming ceremony tomorrow night. He omitted the whole bit about the claw though, fearing a lecture about the dangers of wild arcanery.
    Meanwhile, Mrs. Stone had poured them chamomile tea and sat in her rocking chair to listen. She only raised a silver brow when he mentioned the black-robed rider.
    “Indeed, and I know about the village in the forest,” she said at the end of his retelling.
    Augum waited, but she did not elaborate. “So … about the ceremony … can we please go?”
    Mrs. Stone frowned just as he had imagined her doing. “I do suppose the time has come to return to the world again. Well, as long as you work hard in your training tomorrow, I see no reason why not.”
    Augum rubbed his hands together, vowing to work extra hard.
    “As for you going to school there—we will have to see.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Stone.” Then he remembered something. “Mrs. Stone, can I, um, ask you a personal question—?”
    Her jaw firmed. “If you insist upon it.”
    “How …”