There are three doors on the landing hall and Astaroth drags me to the nearest one. My boots sink into the thick carpet and the scent of beeswax from polished wood is everywhere. A table is decorated with gold and the chairs have velvet cushions with silken tassels on them. A stocky man is sitting at the table, reading a book, but Astaroth growls at him. Actually growls.

  The man lowers the book he’s reading and smiles at him. ”Well, hello to you too, still sore about the Adventurer’s Guild renovation?”

  Astaroth reaches out to shake the other man’s hand with a smile. ”I’m never sore. It was fairly won and fairly lost.”

  The other man winks at him. ”Well, neither of those things is true, but that makes us even.”

  Astaroth smiles with all of his teeth showing and crinkles the corners of his eyes at the man. He then plops himself onto a chair, lifts a leg and wraps it around his other leg. Waves a hand for me to sit down as well.

  The other man leaves, closing the door behind him. I’m confused by the whole show. He was dressed in a similar manner to Astaroth. I’m guessing they are merchants of some sort, but I don’t have time to focus on that. I lock eyes with Astaroth. ”There’s war with Kerthar. They’re mounting an attack through the eastern border. The whole nation is in arms. Even mages.”

  He perks up at that, even if he tries to hide it. ”Mages? Why?”

  ”My turn. Tell me about the council and how to meet them.”

  ”Fine, fine.” He pouts, and takes a breath. ”The council meets at the top floor, one above even this. You need to get a lift to get up there, unless you know how to levitate yourself. I’m guessing you don’t.”

  He doesn’t stop to let me confirm it, just continues.

  ”You don’t meet the council. You talk to one or some of the members and they take your message to the rest, if they so choose. They are all old and eccentric and unpractical, so it’s pretty hit or miss how things turn out in the end. Wizards, you know. We hear about decisions eventually, filtered through layers of scribes or hearsay. This town is truly stupid.” His mouth pulls into a grin. ”I love it.”

  ”Um, right,” I say.

  He leans forward and pushes his face toward me. ”Now! Why are the Kertharian mages involved? Even if the city itself would come under attack, you probably couldn’t peel our local wizards away from their studies.”

  I consider haggling, but every second might count. My fingers press into the velvet-draped armrests of the chair. The moment Lictor gets to the pyramid, he’ll know where I’m at and what I’m doing. I wonder why he even bothered with the guards. I shake my head and try to focus again on Astaroth. ”Someone said the Kertharians did something to themselves. Mind control, madness, something. All of them are attacking us. All of them. Mages, children, elders.”

  Astaroth’s eyes go wide. He leans back and whistles a long descending note. ”That… doesn’t sound good, I’ll give you that. They are a formidable people. It also doesn’t sound possible, but I know when people are trying to lie to me. You at the very least believe what you’re saying.”

  ”I’ve seen it. I’m going to do something about it.” I lock my eyes on his. They waver. Something makes me feel like it’s rare for that to happen and I press on. ”Who should I talk to from the council about this? Who would decide what Tenorsbridge does about it?”

  He rubs his chin, then sharpens his dark beard into a point again. ”Start with representative Corum. She has the most sense out of all of them. She’ll at least be able to help you if she so decides.”

  ”And do you know what would make her decide to help me?”

  He grins.

  ”An enraged Janitor might storm in and drag me away at any moment. Please, tell me!”

  Astaroth leans back and slicks back his hair with a hand. ”You don’t have to worry about them here. These rooms are off-limits. No one wants them around negotiations,” he says and raises an eyebrow at me.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “Now, one more question,” he says and takes a long pause. He breathes in and steeples his fingers. I notice his nails look almost like claws. “Are you on a Ride now?”

  He watches me with unflinching eyes.

  He seems to have figured it out already. I’m not certain how he will react, but he has earned the right to know. I don’t know why I think so, but I know I do.

  We watch each other. After a moment, he pushes himself up from his chair and takes a couple of steps toward the corner of the room, turning his back on me.

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  “Um, Mr. Astaroth?” I say, after a moment of silence.

  “Hmm, yes?”

  “Representative Corum, how can I get her to help me?”

  “You can tell her that I will leave her in peace and forget what happened this spring. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”

  The words are spoken absent-mindedly. He has his hands in his pockets and his back is still toward me.

  “Are… are you ok?”

  Astaroth makes a soft noise and turns around. He grins at me, even if the grin tries to go down as well. “I now know something no one else does.” His voice is wistful as he continues. “I think you’re right. This war won’t be good for anyone. Maybe what I did here will help me, somewhere else.” He breaks off and wipes at his eye. “Now get out of here, kid. I want to be alone.”

  As I start pushing the door, someone grabs the handle from the other side and yanks the door fully open. I stumble out for a step, pulled by my grip on the handle on my side of the door.

  A guard grabs me, his fingers digging into my shoulder. “You’re nicked!”

  Another guard stands beside him and one is behind the door, the one who yanked it open. The rest of the people are pressed against the walls of the room, leaving an empty area around the middle. The merchants and mages are trying to stay as far away as possible from the guards and the action, cowering behind the fancy chairs and tables on the edges of the room.

  I rise on my tiptoes as the guard pulls me from the shoulder toward him. “Exactly as Sir Lictor told us. Hiding in the—gaahh!”

  I kick the guard on the knee. I grimace at both the cracking sound his knee makes and the feel of the impact that reverbs back through my own leg.

  He screams and swings his arms as he falls. His hand slams on the other guard’s helm. The clang echoes around the hall. I drop into a squat and pounce over the fallen guard’s legs, heading for the big stairs.

  Everyone’s shouting around the room. My eyes land on the stocky man who was in the room before us, standing near the stairs.

  “Typical Astaroth,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  I’m half-way across the hall when something slams into me from behind. I’m lifted into the air, air forced out of my lungs. I spin in the air and see the fallen guard point some kind of stick at me from his prone position. The other guard is holding his head with both hands, the last one still holding on to the door handle.

  I keep flying for what feels like seconds, arcing over the railing of the stairs.

  The guard with the stick has his eyes wide. “Whoops,” he says, as the floor of the landing hall rises to cover him from my sight.

  I have time to wonder at how tall the stairs must be. The ceiling above flees up and up. The stocky merchant peeks down over the gaudy railing, eyes wide and mouth open. I’m falling back-first. Cold air rushes past my ears and my stomach feels real odd. I cross my arms and lock eyes with the merchant, hoping that I look stern, dignified, and disappointed.

  The glow of the pyramid fades. I’m standing with my arm up to the pyramid as someone clears their throat behind me.

  “I wouldn’t advise it, kid,” a voice says. She sounds very familiar this time.

  My hand still hovers above the pyramid. I must have hit the stairs with the back of my head first, as I have no recollection of the impact at all. I’m going to need more tries.

  “Really. The—”

  I touch the pyramid and there’s a flash and a low hum.

  “—side effects—”

  I touch the pyramid and there’s a flash and a low hum.

  “—can be—“

  I touch the pyramid and there’s a flash and a loud scream, like metal being ripped apart.

  “—pretty, hey, stop it!”

  She grabs my hand and yanks me away from the pyramid. I’m thrown off balance and fall on my back. Pain wracks my whole body, much worse than what I’d imagine from landing on my butt, even on the hard stone floor. My vision swims, there are three Janitors looking down on me, her form bleeding into different shapes and colors. I reach out to her and see three hands. When she speaks, light emanating from her mouth and blasts into me like I’m being punched.

  “This is pretty bad,” she says.

  I twitch with every word. The arm on my chest slaps me in the face. It swings wildly about, muscles squirming in my abdomen. Purple wisps of smoke waft up from my skin as it blackens from the touch of air.

  “Kid.”

  I try to focus on her. She stretches into the past and the future. I can see her soon taking out a stick from her belt and pointing it at me. Her eyes are sad for days.

  “Sorry, kid.”

  The glow of the pyramid fades.

  “—pretty, hey, stop it!”

  I gasp and retch, and she grabs my hand and yanks me away from the pyramid. I’m thrown off balance and fall on my back. I land hard on my butt and right hand. A sharp pain shoots up my right arm, like I’ve twisted a finger. I yelp, but it’s normal pain this time.

  The Janitor looks down on me. Her eyes scan me all over and she grimaces. “I tried to warn you, kid. That wasn’t a good idea.”

  I keep breathing in and out even though my vision starts to dim. Unlike previous times, the memory of the last Ride feels like a sore wound. Like I’ve been grated all over, especially my brain. I’m panting. My palms hurt. There’s something wrong with them.

  “At least you didn’t turn inside-out or something. Good that I managed to grab you away while the damage was still only this bad.”

  I lean my head into my palms and almost poke the extra thumbs into my eyes. Two thumbs stick out from the center of my palms. They look thin and feeble, but wiggle around as I try moving them. The right one hurts like it’s sprained. That’s what I twisted as I fell on my hand. I keep staring at the thumbs. My throat feels dry and there’s a metallic taste in my mouth.

  She keeps talking. “Couple of extra fingers is pretty standard. Those can probably be taken off, even if they end up being permanent. Your palms will be sore for a week or two, though.” She looks shaken, her eyes wide and hands pressed into fists, knuckles white.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, trembling. The purple smoke was the worst part. It bubbled through my skin.

  “You went even further?”

  I nod.

  “Dumb kid.” She crouches down and tousles my hair. “Listen, this isn’t a toy. The side effects can be extreme. And they get worse the more you’ve had them.”

  Her hand in my hair feels real. Tears creep into my eyes and blink them away. “Have had?” I ask and wipe my face on my sleeve.

  “Yes, even ones you escape from. But why am I explaining this to you? I should take you—“

  “Minerva!” I say, interrupting her. “You told me to tell you Minerva says something.”

  She freezes in place. “What?”

  “Minerva says you can trust me.”

  “She does, does she?” She stands up and reaches a hand down to me.

  I wince as I move my right hand and the twisted thumb touches the trim of my shirt, so I grab her hand with my left and she pulls me up. With the extra thumb folded between our hands, it’s probably as awkward for the both of us.

  “Well then, kid. I trust you. How can I help?”