Cloak of Ashes by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

11

Mad Bad Wizard Girl

Arnett headed to Room 141 to drop off the evidence he had found, and as we entered the room, a thought occurred to me.

“I think you should let me hold onto the Shadow Waypoint medallion,” I said.

“Why?” said Arnett, the blank look coming over his face again. God, that man had an amazing poker face. I couldn’t have said if he was pissed, delighted, or simply indifferent.

“Because,” I said, “I think that if this goes bad, Poole might be able to use it to open a rift way to the Shadowlands.”

Arnett looked at the bagged medallion like it was a bomb. “You mean it could open a rift way while I’m holding it?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” I said. “But if I cast the rift way spell while I was holding it, the rift way would likely go to the Shadow Waypoint in the Shadowlands. Or at least close to it.”

“It’s common among people who hold domains in the Shadowlands,” said Riordan. “If they have an enspelled object that links to their domain, they can use the object to open a rift way directly back to the domain.”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering how a Sign of the Dark Ones had accidentally dumped me right in the middle of Venomhold.

“If these domains are so handy, then why don’t more wizards have them?” said Arnett, but he handed me the evidence bag with the Shadow Waypoint medallion.

“Because it’s very difficult to do anything in the Shadowlands without getting eaten alive by the locals,” I said, which was true enough. I didn’t want to take the time to explain the difference between a Shadowlands domain and a demesne held by a powerful lord like the Knight of Grayhold. The master of a Shadowlands domain could leave his territory and return to it. By contrast, the Knight of Grayhold was invincible and all-powerful within his demesne, but he could never leave it.

I tucked the medallion into the interior pocket of my coat.

Lemke arrived, and the uniformed officers took the cameras and his photographs to begin processing them. With the bureaucratic work of law enforcement done (or in the hands of lower-ranking officers, anyway), we left the incident room and returned to the commons.

“Checked with the officers talking to Poole,” said Lemke. “He’s been very cooperative. Friendly, even. Though he tends to go onto tangents about ancient history.”

“History teachers do that,” said Arnett. “Let’s chat with him.”

We headed to Room 181. Poole’s classroom was large enough to hold fifty students, the desks facing the front of the room in neat rows. Narrow windows looked towards the football field. Colorful bulletin boards and posters hung on the walls, sharing information about the Roman Empire or the Shang Dynasty or the Cold War or a bunch of other ancient stuff that no doubt interested Russell and Riordan and meant nothing to me. Hakon sat in the first row, watching Poole with the calm interest of a soldier waiting for battle. The two uniformed officers stood

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