Chapter 3
629 Words
Chapter Three
I frowned at the small book in Tashidi’s hand. “What is it?”
Tashidi tilted his head. “You have never seen it before?” I felt him give me a measuring look.
I widened my eyes. “Never.”
It was true.
Tashidi pursed his lips, as if in disappointment. “It seems to be some kind of journal. It is in Admon’s handwriting.”
“A journal?”
Admon had never mentioned such a thing to me. Then again, he had always kept his own secrets—even from me. My eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean, ‘seems to be’?”
Tashidi shrugged. “It is encrypted. Another one of Admon’s secrets. I had hoped you might know how to decipher it. I know there are some things he shared with you, and not with me.” I heard a trace of bitterness in his tone.
“He never spoke to me of a journal, or a code,” I said, feeling bewildered.
A sudden hunger struck me. What secrets lay within the journal’s contents? Had Admon recorded his search for my mother’s killer? He had promised to tell me all he knew once I had completed my novitiate. He had died before he had gotten the chance.
Tashidi saw me eyeing the journal and placed it on the tray before me. The faint scent of leather and parchment mingled with the lingering traces of my breakfast.
“Perhaps you know more than you think you do. Have a look, and see what you make of it. In the meantime, I should see about securing our next hiding place.”
He rose from the chair to his feet in a fluid motion. “I should be back before nightfall. There is more food upstairs, if you get hungry.”
He left me with the journal sitting on the tray. I snatched it up and flipped through its contents. The pages were high-grade parchment, creamy and smooth beneath my fingers. The handwriting was Admon’s, sure enough. I felt a pang as I recognized his familiar, graceful style.
The words were complete gibberish.
Each letter had been precisely written in the imperial script, but I could make no sense of any of the words. Was it a different language? Or had Tashidi been right, and it was some kind of code? Even though I knew I had more immediate problems to solve, the puzzle—and the potential of learning the secrets my foster-father had kept involving my mother’s murder—intrigued me.
From somewhere upstairs, I heard the faint creak of a door shutting, followed by the click of a lock. I waited several moments in breathless silence to make certain Tashidi did not return.
Nothing.
I set the tray aside and left the room with the journal clutched in my hand. A large cellar lay beyond, which I ignored. I crept up a narrow set of stone stairs, careful to make no sound. I eased the basement door ajar and peered out from the shadows.
The main floor was silent and empty. Tashidi was gone.
I darted out into a kitchen area. The windows were boarded, but slivers of morning sunlight filtered through the cracks, illuminating dust motes that filtered through the air. I caught sight of my pack and cloak in a far corner of the room, as well as the additional food Tashidi had promised on a nearby table. I crept over to my pack and fished out a fresh tunic in servant gray, cramming some of the food in its place. I rose to my feet, swirling my cloak around my shoulders. I raised my hood to cover my face.
It would be warm at this time of day, but if the guard were still looking for me, I couldn’t afford to be seen. I tucked Admon’s journal into my pack before hoisting it onto my shoulder.
Even though I was eager to decipher its contents, the journal would have to wait.
I had a wedding to stop.
- Writer
