Day 85, 9:00 PM

  The building stretches left and right of me with no end in sight. Based on the elegant, tall windows, the ceilings are at least twenty feet tall, and everything from the pale beech window frames down to the entrance door’s blue paint appears brand new.

  The jungle has long since swallowed the estate, but an invisible force stopped its advance three feet from the residence. A flower bed lies between the green wall of a jungle and the untouched mansion. Instead of flowers, knee-high plants with leaves in vivid colors populate the bed. The colors flow and shimmer, reminding me of a mountain meadow in full bloom, flowers swaying left and right in a light breeze.

  The building’s excellent condition raises a question.

  “Why didn’t the inquisitors destroy this place?”

  “Trample the nearest dancing pigment.” Edna’s voice implies I won’t enjoy the feeling, but, even aware there’s a prank involved, I do as she said.

  I move to step onto the nearest shrub, but my foot strikes an invisible barrier.

  “Please respect Honorable Hadriuse’s property.” A pleasant, feminine voice addresses me. It seems like the woman is speaking from all around me, but there’s no overlap or echo, I just can’t tell from which direction the voice is coming from.

  “If you try again, the defenses will shock you,” Edna explains. “The damage the defenses inflict will grow with each offense until it kills you.”

  I nod. “And how do we get in?”

  “Simple.” Edna walks to the door and tries the lock.

  “Access denied, unauthorized visitors are not allowed on the premises.” The same feminine voice speaks.

  “We have bought four visitor tickets from the caretaker, may we come in?”

  The door swings open. “Enjoy your visit, thank you for donating to Honorable Hadriuse’s estate.”

  Edna enters the manor, mud disappearing from her shoes as she crosses the threshold.

  “As simple as that.” She smiles at me.

  You can bluff a building?

  Shocked, I take two steps, then freeze at the sight. The opulent entrance hall is huge, large enough to play indoor sports in, and before I can take in anything but the checkered floor and the massive wooden doors, Edna moves to the closest coat stand. It’s carved into the shape of three people with numerous outstretched hands, ready to take your wet clothes.

  Edna hangs her coat, then heads to a cylindrical device large enough for five people to stand inside comfortably. I watch in wonder as she steps in and all the muck and moisture floats up from her only to disappear in the device’s upper reaches.

  “Ah, civilized life!” Edna beams and steps from the slightly elevated platform.

  “Come on, we have plenty to see.” She beckons us, and I think I’ve never seen her as happy. “Library was off limits once unless you were a researcher and donated an obscene amount of wealth, but the castellan was the one imposing the limitation, not the magical defenses.”

  We follow Edna’s example, giving our clothes to the expectant stands and entering the white cleaning device. Nothing feels off as droplets of mud and water float away from me and into the tube above. Moments later, we’re dry, our dirty clothes clean.

  I step away from the device and look around. The floor is tiled black and white, the walls lined with light-gray wood, and the windows are letting in more light than the outside has to offer. They are perfectly transparent, and I see no source of additional illumination in them, they just glow on their own.

  “Can we live here?” Gila twirls like a child. She asked the question even before we left the entrance hall, already in love with the tall ceilings and simple, yet opulent architecture.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “No. This was an archmage’s abode, we can use the facilities, peruse the library, but this is not a lodge. The buildings to house visitors and researchers are outside.”

  “It’s late.” I point out. “We are hungry and sleepy. I believe that handling food and lodgings should be the top priority. The library isn’t going anywhere.”

  Edna glares at me, her eyes screaming about how she has just gotten comfortable, and I immediately want to kick her out into the downpour again.

  “You can head out, if you’re tired,” she says after gathering her wits. “I’m staying here.”

  “Did the servants sleep in the mansion?”

  “Yes?” Gila’s sudden question confuses Edna, but I can see what the wry girl is asking. If servants could stay, so can we if we use their quarters.

  “We can sleep in their rooms, that way we’re not imposing on the honorable archmage’s hospitality. While we’re here, we can clean up the place, remove the trash, and so on. Make ourselves useful.” Gila flashes a wide grin.

  She’s not leaving this place now that she’s found it, and I don’t blame her. The lobby has more luxury than the entirety of Tallrock put together. And that’s just a lobby.

  I glance at Lucy, she’s also excited but keeps quiet. Her gaze darts towards me, then escapes like a startled fish in a pond as soon as she realizes I’m looking at her.

  I clear my throat. “Gila’s got a point, Edna. We won’t soil the archmage’s bed or anything like that, but there is little harm if we stayed in the servants’ quarters, and based on the size of this building, there should be plenty of rooms for all of us.”

  I could argue about the practicality, the wasted time on going back and forth for meals, cooking, and sleeping, but Edna knows all of that, and I trust her to be reasonable. Even in the home of her idol.

  She nods, surprisingly torn to make the obvious choice, and we move into the next room. Once more, it’s needlessly huge, arrayed with six vast tables surrounded by comfy chairs, its wall packed with wooden boxes.

  No way. I can’t believe it, but based on what I’m seeing there’s little else I can think of regarding the room’s purpose. Two steps left bring me before the shelf filled with wooden boxes.

  Clack, the box says. The word is engraved in elegant script, a masterwork of calligraphy.

  I reach for it.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Edna shouts.

  “Checking whether this is a board game.” I see it clearly. If I were a nearly omnipotent healer, whose friends are nearly immortal omnipotent mages, I too would have a giant gaming room.

  “It is a board game. This is Honorable Hadriuse’s entertainment room—Why are you picking it up!” Panic tinges her voice as her annoyed speech turns into a shriek.

  I open the box, faced with wooden meeples, and a board covered in grooves.

  “I’m checking out what kind of games he had.”

  “Put it back right now!”

  Why is she so angry?

  “These things are made to be played, not for people to watch them on the walls.”

  “Back! NOW!” She points her finger towards the shelf ignoring my words.

  I do as she asked, and she marches over, pointing her finger at my face with such intensity I fear she’s about to pick my nose.

  “Never do that again.” She growls at me, and I’m half-expecting for steam to leave her flaring nostrils. “These are the personal belongings of humanity’s savior. Of one of the men who selflessly gave away their lives so that the clueless vermin who betrayed their descendants could live. We’re not here to play, we’re not here to explore the honorable ancestor’s past hobbies, we are here to see what useful knowledge we can reap from the library. Once we have studied it, we will leave this place, and lock up behind ourselves without damaging or misplacing anything. Is that understood?”

  Do we even need to lock up? Instead of asking the question, I nod.

  “It is. Do you know the way to the kitchens and servants’ quarters? I think we should eat and sleep, everyone should feel a whole lot better once well rested and with their belly full.”

  “That’s where I was heading to, but you just had to soil valuable historical artifacts.” Edna’s a thunderhead as she storms off towards the far end of the room where a well-hidden service door opens on its own.

  I just touched a damn board game named Clack! It can’t have more historical importance than the tiles we’re stepping on!

  The girls and I follow Edna to the service corridor, five feet wide, with yellow lights evenly spaced on both walls. I recall having corridors like these back when I had a castle. They were utilitarian things, bare stone walls, beams sticking out overhead, and rough wooden flooring.

  Hadriuse had a completely opposite approach. Just like the rest of the building, one-foot-side squares of black and white checker the floors, while shiny plaques decorate the pale beech walls.

  The plaques have names of the servants, their merits, short anecdotes Hadriuse recalled about them, dates of birth, and, finally, dates of death.

  I must say I find the approach incredibly motivational. My guards and servants swelled with pride when I recalled their names, but what Hadriuse had done for those in his employ is on a completely different level.

  We pass hundreds of plaques, and I’m determined to read them when I have the time.