Quill of Thieves

Chapter 51

"I still fail to understand your claim," Astrid pointed out. "How does that dispel Sebastian's mother's idea that an Author's soul was forfeit by the use of blood magic?

Lambert sighed. "An Author's soul was never truly at risk, you see? It was protected and held by the gift of voixili, stored in the Author's Monverta as more of a collateral. A collateral to be used by the Eyelesene Spirits. Should the person who received a thread by an Author abuse it, then Gaia would take back what had been ransomed: that bit of the Author's soul."

"Even so," Sebastian said, "according to your theory, each time an Author brought forth a collected thread from their Monverta, a piece of their soul took its place."

"Technically, yes," Lambert continued. "It was not always meant to be so, however. That is what has made the allure of Lady Guinevere's Black Quill so appealing throughout history." He paused, and Astrid swore it was only for dramatic effect. "The Black Quill does not require a soul transfer."

And there it was. Astrid's heart beat so wildly against her chest she was sure Sebastian could feel it through his spine. "Where is this quill?"

"Hold on," Sebastian interrupted. "Wait just a moment. Voixili—the histories claim it carried a consequence. How?"

Lambert peered at Sebastian over his spectacles that had, once again, slipped. It seemed almost pitying. "You ask about the death of your parents, and the near-death of your Elven friend, here."

For a short moment, Sebastian held his silence, the muscles in his arms taut and strained. Then—"How did you know I wondered about my parents' deaths?"

Lambert's bright eyes watched him in such a somber manner that Astrid tightened her hold on him.

"Your parents knew, Sebastian. They knew of you and your heritage and what it would mean for them. They knew the risks and took you in willingly despite them. They will forever be unsung saviours of the realms."

"Risks," Sebastian repeated, voice thick. "What risks?"

"The curse of voixili." Lambert held his clasped hands in his lap. "Any living soul who defied Earth's magic with spoken, spiteful words would lose a living soul in return. For what is taken from Earth must be given back."

"But—" Sebastian swallowed, bobbing Astrid's knife along on a wake of emotions."I had no Monverta. My soul could not have been held as collateral!"

The letters scrawled themselves against Sebastian's ribs almost of Astrid's fingers own accord: I'm here.

"Yours could not," Lambert agreed, "but Imogene and Amos, they offered theirs in your stead. The Spirits of the glaciers would cry out for your attention, they had been warned, and until you accepted their call..." Lambert trailed off. "Their call led you here, Sebastian. To Rainier. But it took the souls of those closest to you until you abided by their desire."

"I—no! It was my ma. Her voice brought me here. She—"

Sebastian's body trembled with a rage he could not express because it was him. He was good. Light. Astrid did not even think of preventing Abel from crossing the last distance between them and grabbing his hand in one of her own.

Voixili, Astrid thought. It made sense now, all the times she had used it and the disastrous events that had followed. Because her blood had been used in her father's Monverta for years. What remained of her tainted soul had been forfeited each time, and every time she had invoked voixili, someone close to her had nearly died. Had almost taken her place. Matthias. Sebastian.

Had Davina known? Had her mother known she was sacrificing her daughter's soul to bring back her husband?

And—Oh!