Quill of Thieves

Chapter 10

"Sir," Sebastian began, hands twisting beneath the desk, "I wondered if I could ask you something."

Master Lambert lowered his quill. He perched his spectacles up onto his creased forehead and peered at Sebastian, resting his chin in his steepled hands. "Questions are a wise man's adventure."

"Er, yes, I suppose so."

Eyes twinkling, Lambert inclined his head, urging him onwards. Sebastian sat on his fingers to keep them still, glancing down at the Scribal story he'd been working on translating. Every single story written in the ancient language breathed of magic. Magic that spoke of the impossible as if it were a possible reality. Rational, even. He'd been reading them for the past two days now, though rare were the times that Master Lambert sat and worked alongside him, but how should he phrase his questions without seeming completely mental?

Abel's illness. His mother's death. Come to think of it, even his father's.

That strange girl had claimed Abel's illness had been his fault.

Even he couldn't deny the common denominator that had been present for all those misfortunes.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "The Scribes believed in elemental magic, didn't they? I mean, these stories of the Elementi, dragons, merpeople, they weren't simply stories to them. They wrote them to be true. After all, Scribes were the original historians, were they not?"

Lambert leaned back against his chair. "Humans have always needed a way to explain the impossible. Why could that explanation not be magic?"

"Because it does not exist! Historians shouldn't record a false history; no one would ever know from where they truly came."

"It does not exist to you," Lambert corrected. "Histories are subjective with the victors having the most control over it. It could be argued we have been conditioned to believe a history that is entirely one-sided. Therefore, one could conclude, there may be those that find our truth as improbable as you find the Scribes'."

Sebastian hadn't yet decided if he found his new mentor to be adequately challenging or completely tiresome. A dull thud began to take shape behind his eyes. "So, you're saying magic could exist? In another history that is not our own?"

"I would think a true scholar, such as yourself, would conclude his own answers to questions such as that one." Lambert only offered him a small wink as he reached over and began to roll up the scroll Sebastian had been working on all morning.

Sebastian scowled against his growing headache and bewilderment and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Magic, he scoffed to himself. He was being utterly preposterous. But even as he thought it, a laugh that very much resembled Abel's echoed against the carefully constructed bookshelves of his brain.

Master Lambert had already locked the scroll into one of the many safes behind his desk. He turned his attention back to Sebastian with a wisened grin. "Care to join me for lunch, young d'Aximos?"

O O O

Sebastian couldn't quite believe he stood, once more, outside the entrance to Tuddle & Totts.

To be fair, in the daylight, the establishment appeared just a little bit charming. Flower pots bloomed with yellow poppies and white edelweiss even though snow from the previous night dripped from the thatched rooftop. A set of wind chimes hung from the wooden sign, and they tinkled merrily in the chilly breeze. Sebastian craned his neck to see around Master Lambert, glancing at the alleyway he'd explored those nights ago.

He wondered if he would still be able to make out the image of Norham's Black Quill.

Lambert must have spotted his slight frown because he said, "Not to worry, son. The pub is quite harmless before sunset. We can go through the main entrance."