The Vengekeep Prophecies by Brian Farrey Page B

sank into bed. I was just about to fall asleep when I finally saw the flaw in my plan. The information in the Formulary was good at negating low-level magic. The formulas were useless against anything more powerful. And fateskein was the most potent stuff I’d ever seen. The chances of finding an answer were slim.
    I looked out the window. Across the alley, I could see the ruined buildings up and down our street. I knew the prophecies wouldn’t stop until Vengekeep was destroyed. I closed my eyes and remembered what my cousin Kellis Grimjinx always said: From slim chances come fat rewards. For all our sakes, I hoped he was right.
    Whenever we weren’t researching fateskein, I was teaching Callie how to be a thief. I read her stories from the Grimjinx family album about my ancestors’ greatest heists. She took to her lessons immediately and, in no time, became better at picking locks than me.
    I had to give her to Aubrin, who started teaching Callie sleight of hand. The pair would sit in the park while I rummaged through Lotha’s books. Aubrin would hold up a blue stone. Callie had to pass her hand over Aubrin’s and replace the blue stone with a red one without Aubrin noticing. It didn’t come to her as naturally as picking locks, but it wasn’t long before Callie could make the swap swiftly enough so that Aubrin didn’t feel a thing.
    But each time she succeeded, Callie would hold out the blue stone triumphantly and shout, “Ta-da!”
    â€œUm, Cal,” I said, as Aubrin shook her head, “just so you know … Real thieves? Don’t say ‘ta-da!’”
    The stress of trying to think like saviors was taking its toll on the family. Late one afternoon, as Aubrin and I helped Nanni make supper, Da trudged in through the front door, exhausted from his day at the shop. He sank into his chair at the kitchen table.
    â€œYou know,” he said, “I miss the old days. Back when people avoided the phydollotry shop. Or I could at least scare away anyone who was curious. Now that we’re saviors, everyone’s stopping by. ‘How’s the shop today, Ona?’ ‘Can I make an appointment, Ona?’ If this keeps up, I’ll have to figure out what phydollotry is. And that means I’ll have to start … working ! Who wants that?”
    Aubrin passed him a glass of ashwine as he put his feet up. He’d just asked us all to pitch in ideas as to what phydollotry might be when Ma burst through the back door.
    â€œI’ve got it!” Ma cried, going straight to Da.
    We were all a bit surprised. Ma hadn’t been the same since the firestorm. She’d become listless, hardly talking anymore, taking naps at the oddest times during the day and staying up all night, staring out the window. She mumbled constantly that “her” tapestry was causing this. For the first time in several days, she seemed back to her normal self.
    â€œWhat’s that, dear?” Da asked.
    Ma turned to the rest of us. “The solution to our little prophecy problem. It’s so simple. Jorn’s only concern is the safety of everyone in Vengekeep. So let’s get everyone out of Vengekeep!”
    We looked around at one another, eyebrows scrunched.
    â€œCome again?” Nanni asked.
    But Da was catching on. “An evacuation. Of course. Sounds like a perfect idea. We get everyone to pack up their essentials and we start a massive caravan to … I don’t know where. Surely some town-state will take in a few refugees.”
    The more we talked, the more the idea blossomed. Ma started writing down thoughts on how to approach Jorn. He wouldn’t like the idea—he’d probably see it as a way for us to empty out the town so the Grimjinxes could have free pick of everyone’s belongings … which actually wasn’t a naff-nut idea. But if we used reason, he would probably come around. If he was going to buy it, we’d need