Black Ice: The Rings of Belzantra

Education

The old man seemed entirely out of sorts. Before I even reached the cabin, I could hear his huffs and puffs, the sounds of objects being tossed willy-nilly around the small house. I approached, a quizzical expression playing across my face. Danthor, sitting his haunches on the cool earth, emitted a low, keening meow, and refused to go closer to the house.

 “Aren’t you as hungry as I am?” I crouched, scratched his furry cat chin, and then straightened. “I suppose you have no trouble finding food out of doors, Orange One.”

 I walked away from the feline, listening intently to the sounds of unrest in the cabin. The door was cracked, moving back and forth as air currents moved passed. I pushed the door out of my way, and stepped into a maelstrom.

 “Aagh! Mira! Thank goodness. Did you move any of my tomes?” The old man neither looked up from his search, nor stopped his rapid movements.

 “Other than the few we looked at yesterday, no.” I bent at the waist, retrieving a few scattered cups and forks from the floor. “Which are you looking for?”

“One I would have never showed you.”

My eyebrows crunched together. “Why?”

“Because it is for no one’s eyes, but mine.” He looked at me then, a nearly rabid look in his clear, blue eyes.

“Why?” I replaced the dishes in the cabinet where the rest of them should have been, except I suspected most were on the floor.

“Stop asking stupid questions and help me look!”

I disregarded his impatience, chose to instead focus on helping him look. I could tell that the book must be worth more to Gregor than anything else in his hut. I had never seen him in such a frenzy.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Small, brown. Bound in a coarse hide you’ve probably never felt before.” He pushed over a pile of dirty clothes and rags, searching through each one in a cursory manner. “I never move it! Where could it have gone?” His face grew redder and redder with each article he over turned and found no book.

“Gregor, drink some water before you keel over.” I found the pitcher, under the table, and filled it from the bucket in the corner.

Gregor accepted the jug, tipping the cool liquid into his mouth. He made a satisfied sound, and shoved the wooden vessel back into my hands. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t move it, and I didn’t move it…” The old man’s face adopted an extremely worried look.

“Perhaps Belman wanted to do some light reading?”

The scowl I received was nearly frightful. But it disappeared quickly. “Child, I need this book. Help me look for it.”

My arms hung lack at my sides. “I don’t know where anything is in this mess, Gregor.” I sighed. “But when's the last time you remember reading it?”

He scowled, closed his eyes, worked his fingers at his sides in the folds of his robes. “The day you arrived.” Scuttling across the cabin, he fell to his knees next to the bed, and pushed aside the blanket hanging off the edge. “I was reading over here…” His head and shoulders disappeared into the dark underside of the bed.

“On the floor?” I approached, and bent over him curiously.

“No, child,” came a muffled response. “On the bed, but—“ He pushed himself out from under the blankets with a grunt of exertion. “I did push everything on the bed, off the bed, when I brought you inside.” He withdrew himself completely, clutching a small volume in his gnarled left hand.

 “Is that it?”

 "Of course this is it. I don’t make a habit of leaving books under the bed, girl.” The old man pushed himself on to his knees, and straightened to stand.

 “May I see it?”

 “Yes. But not today. Not for a while.” He tucked the book into his robes. I imagined it nestled in one of many hidden pockets in the voluminous robes Gregor wore.

I fixed the blanket on the bed, and sat upon the feather mattress. “May I know what it is about, since it caused such a fuss?”

Gregor peered at me with a curious stare, one full of judgment and unease. It made my spine arch, hair tingle. “It’s about our rings.”