Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
There’s a knock at the door, and Gwenna opens it. A soaked slitherskin stands there, his house dripping and his skin bright orange compared to Kipp’s leaf green. He holds out a folded note and races away the moment she takes it.
Gwenna unfolds it and reads it aloud. “All classes are to meet at the main guild hall today. No exceptions.” She glances up at me. “Guess that answers that.”
Once we’re all gathered, we head out into the rain in the guild-assigned waterproof cloaks. They’re ugly things but I have to admit, they do keep you dry. The fledgling nests—the dorms for each guild master—are only a few streets over from the main guild hall, and when we arrive, the place is filled with damp students standing in the entryway and talking amongst themselves. There’s a ripple of laughter when we arrive, and one of the men grabs his crotch, only for Lark to grab hers back at him.
“Behave,” Gwenna tells her, swatting her arm.
“I will if he does,” Lark protests.
Before I can step in, a chime sounds and everyone looks up to the landing at the top of the hall. Several men with heavily encrusted guild sashes stand up there above us, and I grit my teeth to see that one of them is none other than Rooster.
“Today we have an esteemed guest visiting us,” Rooster says in a somber voice. “Archivist Kestrel from the guild archives is spending time with us to discuss our next year’s plans. We thought what better way to test our new fledglings than to have a little competition amongst our students?” He beams down at us as if he’s the most clever man who ever lived. “Please proceed to the Artifact Training Hall when your teacher’s name is called.” He glances down at a scroll in his hands. “Masters Thrush and Vulture, please bring your teams in.”
“What’s this?” I whisper to Lark.
“No clue. Showing off?” She shrugs.
“What’s in the Artifact Training Hall?”
Lark blinks at me. “…Artifacts?”
Clearly I’m not going to get anywhere by asking her questions.
The teams settle in, waiting in the hall. Mud is all over the gorgeous marble floors and there are puddles of rainwater by the entrance. I manage to squeeze a seat on a bench when one of the men vacates, and I share my spot with Gwenna. Kipp takes off his shell house and sits atop it, looking bored as only a slitherskin can. Mereden bites her nails and casts anxious looks at the door, and I try not to do the same. Are we going to get in trouble because Hawk isn’t here and neither is Magpie? I try to think of a lie to cover for them both. Hawk doesn’t need one, but Magpie…Magpie…perhaps Magpie has food poisoning. Bad clams, I decide. She got a batch of bad clams and has been vomiting violently for two days now. No, there’s no need for a guild healer….
Or is two days of vomiting too much? I lean over toward Gwenna. “Exactly how much would you expect to vomit if you ate bad clams?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Is this some sort of weird innuendo?”
I bat at her arm. “No. I’m thinking of a cover story for Magpie—”
“Masters Magpie and Crow, please bring your teams to the Artifact Training Hall.”
Oh, of course we’d get stuck with Master Crow’s team again. I bite back a growl of frustration and get to my feet, smoothing my nonexistent skirts. We head through the doors that the other students disappeared into, following behind Master Crow’s team of boorish thugs. One of them tries to kick Kipp, but the slitherskin just hops onto the wall and scrambles along it, as if he’s completely unbothered by their bullying.
I’m busy rehearsing my excuse for Magpie, intent on getting the story straight, and then we’re led through a set of double doors and into a room that takes my breath away.
It’s like a library, except instead of books upon the shelves, there are trinkets and objects of every kind. As we step inside, I see jewelry boxes and ewers, spoons and blades and flutes. I see a bowl on its side with what look like bright red glyphs written on the belly. I see a few books, a quill, and a variety of other things I can’t make out without my spectacles on. I want to squint and examine all of them but there are people at the far end of the hall, staring at us with smirks on their faces.
“I am Master Tiercel,” the man announces, and his sash glitters just enough that even with my poor sight I can tell he’s important. He’s a slender man with a balding head and a blurry face. “Are both teams here? Master Crow?”
“My men are all here,” he states, stepping forward. “Ready for the challenge.”