The Vengekeep Prophecies by Brian Farrey Page A

Grimjinx, inventor of the rubyeye
    â€œI f this is my lock-picking lesson, I want my money back.”
    Shivering in the cool night air, Callie stood behind me, holding a candle near the lock on Lotha’s front door. I knelt on the doorstep, rubbing a fresh batch of my blue paste on the lock.
    â€œMy great-aunt Illinda always said, ‘You pay what you get for.’”
    Callie scowled. “What does that mean?”
    I shrugged. “Who knows? Mad as pants, old Aunt Illinda.”
    â€œYou’re not even picking the lock. You’re … spreading goo on it.”
    â€œPatience, apprentice. It’s a mage’s house,” I explained. “Magically sealed.” I gave the lock a quick touch. The faint vibration had stopped.
    Callie crouched at my side as I demonstrated the fine art of lock picking. I slipped my picks through the small hole and showed her how to feel around for the tumblers inside. My fingers twisted, moving the picks up and down, side to side. But each attempt to move the tumblers ended with the picks slipping from my fingers to the ground.
    When I was just about to give up, Callie whipped her hair back and said, “I think I get the idea. Here.” She handed me the candle and slipped the picks into the hole. Her thin fingers wiggled and a moment later, the lock gave a soft click and the door popped open. Callie grinned.
    â€œYes,” I said, with a quick nod, “that was … well, not bad for, you know, your first time. Shall we go in?”
    We explored the house. It was all very fancy—polished wood on the walls, everything lined with either copper or silver. Some of the fancier items—sculptures and paintings—bore protective sigils that told me not to bother stealing them. Touched by anyone but the caster of the spell, those sigils could do nasty things.
    â€œSo, what are we looking for?” Callie asked. “We can’t use magic.”
    â€œBooks,” I said. “Journals. Notes. Any information Lotha might have had about fateskein. The more we know, the more likely we can use the Formulary to find a nonmagical solution.”
    Callie pulled a throw from the back of the sofa and tossed it over her head like a mage’s cowl. “I believe Vengekeep is in need of a town-state mage. Pleased to be of service.”
    I bowed humbly. “Allow me to show you around, milady.”
    We played in the upstairs dining room, sitting at each end of the table, pretending to pass each other snifters of glintflower brandy and speaking of “the simple people.” We took turns rolling on the very soft bed in the master bedroom. Finally, we got to the double doors at the end of the upstairs hall and walked into the room beyond.
    The library. Easily the biggest room in the entire house. Bookcases thrice my size lined every wall, each one filled to bursting with ancient tomes. I hadn’t expected there to be quite this many.
    â€œIt’ll take forever to look through all these,” Callie moaned.
    â€œWe don’t have forever,” I reminded her. “We have until mooncrux.”
    We spent a solid hour poring through the books. I started a pile on the small round table in the room’s center for books that had potential. I had no idea how many I could realistically take with me. Talian would return from the Trials soon. With so many books filling the shelves, too many gaps would be conspicuous.
    When we were too exhausted to open another book, we gathered five of the books I deemed most valuable and made our way downstairs again.
    We slipped out of the house and into the streets. At the next crossroads, Callie turned left to head home and I turned right.
    â€œSee,” she said, before leaving, “if you’re not careful, Jaxter Grimjinx, you just might end up a hero after all.” Callie gave me a wink and took off down the dark street.
    Back at home, I went upstairs to my room, kicked off my boots, and