Laric wasn’t exactly sure what it was that they needed to do, but increasingly, he couldn’t help but feel as if maybe they should follow the other dragon, hunt down the mages, and find where they might be hiding. Why shouldn’t they?
He certainly didn’t want to wait for the mages to reach them, and he wasn’t sure how long he had before Talia, or some other mage, managed to surprise them. If that happened, what would—and could—he even do?
He let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. There were no answers to that. No answers to anything other than what he had been doing, and what he needed to keep doing.
Xavier’s home was expansive, much more so than Laric would’ve expected. The building was made of stone, and unsurprisingly, Laric saw a series of glyphs marked on the stone that he had never seen before. As he stared at them, he wondered if perhaps he should recognize them.
Rowan guided the horses forward, with Xavier still seated atop his, until they were just on the other side of the wall. She climbed down and closed the gate behind them.
“How many of these glyphs are there at my grandmother’s place?” Laric asked.
“They don’t do anything,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “I thought they did, and I tried to make them work, but I can’t get them to function.” He managed to sit upright well enough, and long enough, that he could look at them. “Oh. There they are. Maybe you can help.”
“I don’t think I can do anything with glyphs,” Laric said. “I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do with them, but right now…”
“Let’s get inside,” Rowan said, and then she nodded at Xavier. “I don’t think he’s thinking particularly clearly.”
She and Laric both helped Xavier down from the horse, and he managed to stand steady enough that Laric didn’t have to support him. Laric motioned to Rowan to take Xavier to the house while he led the horses to the stable.
“Just be careful in there,” Xavier called back to him. “It’s dark. And… I suppose I should tell you this—I did store a few things of your grandmother’s there.”
“In your stable?” Laric asked.
How could that be safe? His grandmother had been bringing items from Korthal, and all of those would be dangerous for somebody like Xavier to keep.
“There is something there that helps,” he said. “Once you see it, you’ll know.”
Laric frowned, then arched a brow at Rowan. “Get him settled, and then come and join me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
She guided Xavier toward his home, and the merchant kept muttering to himself, though Laric stopped listening once they got too far. Instead, he brought the horses around the side of the house, where he found the stable, which was really more of a small barn. The door was closed and locked. Laric approached it, and he used his spellslip to unlock it. That magic seemed to truly be a universal key. The moment he slid the door open, the smell of hay, horse manure, and oats drifted out to him. It was unpleasant, but not terribly so.
He brought the horses inside and found a stall for each of them. There were two other horses in here that had been left behind. It surprised him that Xavier would have these here in the heart of the city, but he was also surprised by how much wealth Xavier obviously possessed. Maybe it shouldn’t because Laric had seen that he was quite well-to-do, and his trade with Korthal would have made it easier for him to earn more than almost anybody else.
Laric worked quickly to remove the saddles, and when he was done, he paused and looked around. Xavier had said something about keeping some of his grandmother’s things here and how Laric would recognize something.
What would there be?
Most of the barn was newer, with wooden walls and wooden stalls and a stone floor, but the back of it was older, its stone a faded gray. There was also a little dampness to it, reminding him of some of the older buildings inside town. As he approached that area, he found the darkness to be overwhelming, and he formed a light spellslip that pushed back the shadows. The light rippled along the walls, and it seemed as if it became caught in specific indentations.
Not indentations. Glyphs. Old glyphs.
This place in the barn had been tied to his grandmother. It had to be.
Laric approached it, a growing trepidation rising within him, as he didn’t really know what he was going to find here. He was increasingly concerned about whether he was misreading this, or if what he saw was real. But as he looked down at it, he saw a series of glyphs. The markings reminded him of what he had seen in the cavern where they had first met Sashaak, as well as of his grandmother’s place beneath the shed.
That couldn’t be coincidence, he knew.
“Laric?”
He glanced back and saw Rowan as she came into the barn.
“Back here.”
She joined him. “As soon as I set him down on his bed, he was asleep. He was tired, just like he said.”
“Probably good that he’s getting some rest, then,” Laric said. “But look at this.” He waved his hand toward the markings. “Does it remind you of anything?”
“Your grandmother’s place.”
He nodded. “That was sort of what I was thinking.”
“So is it the same?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe it is. Regardless, it’s strange. He said that he had brought things that belonged to my grandmother here.”
“Do you see anything like that? I’m assuming we’re talking about the relics like we found in the cave and beneath the shed, and—”
“Like the egg,” he said.
Rowan’s brow furrowed. “Do you think that would be the same?”
“I have no idea. Maybe?” He gave a small shrug. “The egg’s not open, though, and I don’t know how to make it work. The markings on it are different.”
“So we need to see if there’s some sort of a key,” Rowan said, looking over and smiling at him.
