The Viper's Fangs (Book 2) Read Free Page B

spells?” Hobart asked.
    Angus thought for a moment and shook his head. “No,” he
said, thinking of the new spells he had mastered and how he was looking forward
to using them— if the opportunity arose to do so.
    “We’ll leave just after dawn, then. Meet us at the south lift
area. There should be plenty of traffic at that time, so we shouldn’t have to
wait long to descend.”
    Angus nodded. “All right,” he said, standing. “I have some
things to attend to before I can leave. Would you mind?”
    “Of course,” Hobart said, standing. His cape swished over
the floor as he moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
    After Hobart had left, Angus closed his eyes and ran through
the list of things he had planned to do over the winter. He had done most of
them, but there were so many less urgent tasks that remained, tasks like the research
he was doing on the fishmen. It was more curiosity than anything else, but he
couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that, that there was
something happening that was buried deep beneath the surface that meant far
more than what lay above it. He sighed. It didn’t matter, not now. He needed to
get ready to go.
    He went to the corner and picked up his backpack. It was
still much as he had left it when they had arrived back at Hellsbreath just
before winter blew in. The scrolls and map were on top, and the rest of the
gear was below it. He removed the scrolls, piling them neatly on the table while
making sure he didn’t disrupt their order. The black robe, neatly folded, was
next, and he took it out and set it on the table. He would have to wear it,
instead of the loose-fitting gray robe of an apprentice that he had been wearing
while staying at the Wizards’ School. The apprentice’s robe had helped him move
about the grounds without drawing too much attention, and it didn’t matter to
him that it didn’t reflect his true status. But when he left, it would be in
the black robe Voltari had made for him.
    The padded leather tunic and strange black breeches were
next. Should he wear them? Did he even want to take them with him? The black
robe made him itch terribly, but when he wore the tunic and breeches beneath
it, that itchiness disappeared. But there was a risk to wearing them. He unfolded
the tunic and ran his fingers along the blackened edge of the holes left behind
by the fire. It still smelled faintly of smoke and sweat. “I should have fixed
this,” he muttered, wondering why he had not taken the time to do so. He had
had four months…. But it was still serviceable, if in disrepair, and he set it on
the table.
    The breeches were next, and he ran his fingers over the
silk-smooth surface, wondering again what the cloth was wrought from, why it
seemed to mold itself around his legs as he put them on, why they hadn’t
ignited like the tunic when the flames had touched them. “I should have asked
someone about these,” he muttered, shaking his head and setting them on the
table. He didn’t have to make up his mind about wearing them until morning, but
he would take them with him. And one of the heavy gray apprentice robes. They
were warm.
    He reached into his backpack and gently lifted out the clay pot. Why do I keep this? he wondered. It had been half full of healing balm
when he left Nargeth’s Inn, but now it was empty. There was no point to keeping
it, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. Perhaps it was a reminder? A
memento of the burns he had endured? But why would he want to remember them ?
To keep from forgetting the mistakes that had caused the burns? So he would
remember to focus, to not let his concentration lapse again? To remind him of
the arrogance that led him to cast that spell in the first place? He set it on
the floor next to the table. It would be staying. Perhaps one day he would try
to convince Ulrich to sell—or give—him more of that wondrous cure, but not now.
There was no time.
    He smiled as