The Conjurer's Curse by Stephanie Cotta

Author:Stephanie Cotta [Cotta, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monarch Educational Services, L.L.C.

Chapter 19

Zamara

Akaran vied for something to alleviate his boredom. Waiting for Rahn to die was a tiresome drag. A month had passed and all fared annoyingly well at Iron Crossing.

Akaran needed Rowan to make an appearance, do something warranting arrest—curses! Or give Akaran the chance to expend another beating. It infuriated him to the depths of his core to know that his half-brother freely wandered Rahn’s lands. The cursed runt belonged in that infernal mountain along with the rest of the damned.

One uneventful evening while Akaran stewed over his supper, news arrived via messenger that his informant Klay had pertinent information. Akaran could’ve kissed the greasy scumbag. He snarfed down his meal and told the attending manservant to ready his horse.

Akaran raced up the winding stone staircase to the tower where his great aunt worked on her spellcraft—and all manner of drugs and potions. The long, narrow room boasted a wrap-around window-pane wall. Dried leaves and herbal bundles tied with string hung from the rafters along with three circular chandeliers providing ample illumination. His aunt’s shelves—crammed full—stored jars containing strange liquids, mixtures, herbs, seeds, and other oddities Akaran couldn’t begin to determine, including the age of the old woman occupying the room.

Zamara sat on her rickety stool in a skin-tight black dress with a crimson-lace wrap covering her bony shoulders. She hunched over her worktable like an egret, her long, crinkled snout buried in some dead amphibian’s guts. Akaran liked to think she was a hundred, but he’d thought that for the last decade, so her true age was anyone’s guess. And Zamara—being an insufferable bag of tricks—saw no reason to offer clarification on her actual age.

Akaran stomped into the room, and acrid aromas assaulted his nostrils. “Auntie’s lair,” as he liked to call it, had long been a melting pot of scents either delighting the senses or repelling them. A punch of pungent formaldehyde churned his stomach, and he nearly lost his dinner.

“Curses, it reeks in here,” Akaran complained, shielding his nose and mouth. “Would it kill you to crack a window?”

“I’ve warned you about coming up here after you’ve had a meal,” Zamara said with a scratchy voice that grated Akaran’s ears. “Don’t blame me if you lose it again.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Akaran grumbled, annoyed by her I-told-you-so attitude. “I have somewhere to be, and I need a pouchful of caine powder.”

Zamara lifted a wrinkled finger with a wickedly curvy nail and pointed to a pile of white powder at the end of her workstation. “Help yourself. It’s there for the taking.”

Akaran found a small, leather pouch and scooped a fair amount of powder into it.

“Who’s the lucky sot who gets my mind-numbing creation?” Zamara said with a cackle.

“Your regular customer—Klay,” Akaran said, tying the pouch’s strings. “He has information for me.”

“On your brother?” Zamara said, without turning her head.

Again with the incorrect term.

Akaran scowled. “More than likely, yes.”

“Hm. And what are you hoping to gain by having him tailed?” Zamara asked, making an incision with her scalpel.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.