Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (34 page)

“I hope the rest of your possibilities have a much greater ground for support than just this,” Caterwaul Lorenzo replied with an irritated growl.

“Well, what about his time at the orphanage?” I responded quickly.

“What about it?”

“He could have learned to read from there.” The Caterwaul leaned in deeper and fixed his sharp dagger like gaze into the depths of my pupils. Unlike my last suggestion, this seemed to be a legitimate concern for him. Without bringing his neck down, he opened the folder and quietly thumbed through each individual page. He carefully extracted a tattered strip of paper that had been browned with age.

“The orphanage Jacob was collected from was the Pothole Charitable Trust’s headquarters in Calandia. According to this report of the premises, there were no books of any kind which Jacob could have learned to read from, nor was there anyone capable enough to teach him how.” The Caterwaul smirked triumphantly and slowly sat back into his seat with glowing satisfaction in his eyes. For a while neither of us spoke.  

“May I?” I asked while weakly gesturing towards the papers. The Caterwaul shrugged, before effortlessly pushing the folder to my side of the desk. In front of me were now three papers to do with just the orphanage. One was the comment from one of the caretakers at the orphanage. One was a map of the orphanage as well as a few of the buildings surrounding it, and one was a form of some kind proving I had belonged to this orphanage. Out of curiosity alone, I picked up the comment and began to read.

“Jacob Ofpacis is a rather noisy boy, who is always found exactly where no one wants him. He and his doppelganger, Preston Mubarak seem to have formed some kind of criminal tendencies and will often times sneak off together in the middle of the night to do who-knows-what.

Strangely enough, even if he’s not with Preston, he will find a way to sneak off for hours at a time, returning in a strangely calm state of mind. In all honesty, the lack of commotion is so satisfying, the house staff deliberately turn the other way while Jacob squeezes his way out of the orphanage to do whatever he feels he needs to do. He always manages to find his way back anyways, so we’ve rarely had to go looking for him.

When by himself, Jacob appears to be quiet and reserved, however the minute you place him with someone of his own age, he’ll begin to talk faster than most politicians. Often times, he will preoccupy himself with imaginary games or by inventing outrageous stories, all of which having nothing to do with the chores he constantly avoids.

His thought process is wild and erratic. His euphoric highs and irritable tantrums have caused many days of distress among his housemasters, and most nights it seems like he is physically incapable of sleep. Twelve times we’ve had to isolate a room for Jacob to stay in, simply because of his overstimulation. It should be noted that Jacob’s inquisitive mind is often times incessant and absolutely beyond the point. His natural curiosity must be suppressed in order for him to succeed as a member of society, however I have confidence in Jacob’s inevitable change in maturity. As his housemaster, I wish him all the best for future years.

An illegible signature stuck to the bottom of the page like a deep cut. I reread the page a second and third time before picking up the map of the premises and holding it up to eye level. I studied the map for a few seconds, before eventually deciding it was not worth my time. Just as I was about to put it to one side, Umber stopped me.

“Look at the second paragraph from your comment and tell me what it was you did during the hours away from the orphanage.” I raised my gaze up to the place Umber had indicated and almost found myself smiling.

“I found a bakery a couple kilometers away which I would nab cakes from.”

“And is this bakery on the map of the area?” Umber asked while slowly swiveling on the spot. I checked the map.

“No it’s not,” I thought to him. The spirit seemed to brighten up slightly.

“Now take a look at what’s down the street from the orphanage.” As I lowered my attention to one of the side paths outside the orphanage, I gave a small inaudible gasp.

“There’s a library there!” I realized suddenly.

“And that means you have reliable evidence to say that you could have snuck off during this time to learn how to read,” Umber concluded brightly.

For four seconds, I stared at him with utmost gratitude. The Caterwaul cleared his throat loudly. I immediately shook my head and glanced up, startled by the jarring reality that I was still in the office of the most dangerous man alive.

“You seem to be awfully interested in my alcohol cabinet,” Caterwaul Lorenzo commented politely. “Have you perhaps run out of things to say, or are you merely anticipating a future with a lot of heavy drinking?”

“Quite the contrary actually,” I said, twisting my lips up into a wry smile. “For in this specific article, we hear from one of Jacob’s caretakers that he would often run off for extended periods of time. This paper does not however specify what he did during this time. I grabbed the second piece of paper triumphantly, and proudly drew my fingers across it. “Now where would a young boy go for hours at a time without being found?” I asked rhetorically. “Surely he would go to a place where none of his caretakers would think to find him. Jacob probably thought his safest hideout was this nearby library, as you Caterwaul, claimed the caretakers couldn’t read and would therefore have no need to enter such a place.” I brought my fist down onto the table, which emitted a reassuring thump. “Jacob did have access to books and he did spend time with them, rendering your argument obsolete!”

Immediately after I had uttered the last word, I noticed three very startling things, the first of these being that I had just been shouting at Caterwaul Lorenzo. Without any memory of doing so, I also found myself standing up with both hands pressed firmly into the table. The last and most terrifying thing was that the Caterwaul had also stood up and was holding his hand in his pocket as if he was about to draw a knife. Much to my relief, he simply removed a golden watch which he eyed apprehensively.

“It’s time for dinner,” He said blandly.

Just as I was about to argue, Umber cut me off with a swift and startling movement.

“He’s letting you go,” The spirit reminded me sternly. “Don’t blow this opportunity Jacob.” I sighed quietly and nodded to the Caterwaul. The two of us silently left together, and walked in unison for perhaps a minute or two before a large group of elder Grimlars joined up. Noticing this diversion as an opportunity to flee, I soundlessly hustled back the way I came without anyone noticing. I threw open the door of the Caterwaul’s office and frantically began to rummage through his cabinets. Aside from a large number of old looking bottles were a few tailcoats, large sets of extravagant hats and a rack holding twenty or so dangerous looking canes. I threw these containers shut and dashed over to the bookshelves to try and see if there was anything of importance there.

There were encyclopedias, world maps, books on anti-magic as well as books so thick that I needed two arms to lift them. Removing some of the books from the higher shelves, I nearly fell over as I realized that I was holding was the Caterwaul’s Journal. I hastily forced the book open to the date of my examinations.

             
“November 25th

              After the first night of the examinations, all seems to be looking well for the grading trainees.The first few Ickle-Bits taking the exam have already died out, however one of the sickly looking ones seems to have stumbled into the No Man’s Zone for the night. This is especially irritating for me, as now I’ll be forced to apologize to the mechanics for getting blood on their precious contraptions.

              November 26th

              Second night of examinations, and there’s a large commotion going on between the trainees Preston, and Gregor. At the time, they seemed to be arguing over the dead body of the boy from yesterday, however it became apparent that on closer inspection the boy was still alive. How in the world did he evade the machines I wonder? And what in the world happened to him to put him in such a deep sickness? The blizzard I summoned did nothing to touch him, however this did not concern me. He’s likely to be dead soon anyways.

If it’s a anti-magical sickness, it is one I have never seen the likes of before. If it is a plague, it is one best left contained in the forest. Was it something to do with what happened in the no man’s zone? I’ll ask the engineers about it, but something tells me that I’m missing a very important piece to this puzzle.”

This passage went on for a while as well and continued to talk about the general progress of all of the trainees in the forest. Every time the Caterwaul reported a death, he would do so without remorse, or while about the general intelligence of the person dead. I skipped ahead to the next date, taking into account that I had been comatose for two days.

“November 28th

The boy’s name is Jacob. Such a common lowly name. I shouldn’t have expected much from him, but he intrigues me nonetheless. Much to my surprise his eyes opened today and shortly after he began to travel with the Preston trainee. The two walked and talked together, although since my telescopics do not pick up sound, I was forced to adjourn my observation until approximately 1:56 PM when my anti-detectors went off. As it turns out, the boy’s a distortion warlock and a powerful one too.

Surely this is too good to be true: Conveniently surviving his youth as a powerless Ickle-Bit only to reveal a vast wealth of anti-magic seconds before his death. The operators of the no-man's-zone tell me that one of the smaller prototype machines had been decapitaed, spilling its antikoal all over the place, while in turn restoring some of the land back to it’s original state. This has to be more than coincidence I know it.”

“Antikoal?” I mouthed in confusion. “I thought what I had found was arkoal! It matched the description perfectly too! How in the world could it have been different?”

“Again, irrelevant,” Umber childed from afar. “Just keep reading.”

November 30th

Research into this mystery has gotten me nowhere. I must approach this puzzle from a different angle. I ask myself how he could have done this, and I say he couldn’t have. Therefore someone else must have done it for him.

Just how many someone’s has Jacob come into contact with? And just how many of those someones are anyones? I think and only one person leaps to mind. My very own professor Wenchenberg. I know of his habits that constantly urge him to spare lives. I know of his constant dedication to the distortion craft, and I know of the sudden tip in Jacob’s abilities. These traits and occurrences fit together nicely however I only still need distinctive evidence that he’s involved.

Jumping a step ahead, why would the professor help a seemingly random Ickle-Bit? He and I are logical minds, who would do no sort of irrational thing without a rational reason. I think and I strain to put the pieces together. Without a motive, the professor had no reason to help Jacob, however I am convinced that whatever Jacob is doing, he is not doing it alone.

Jacob knows something that I don’t and I have a means of finding out what. I’ll set up a decoy taborthodox test that I know Jacob will not be able to pass. When he fails, he will be physically required to tell me everything that transpired in the forest, and all will be solved.

December 1st

All was not solved. In fact the only thing that ended up happening was me accidentally gifting him a set of armor and a sword. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Gregor decided it would be smart to tie himself into my little plan and try to extract Jacob’s thoughts for me. Most surprisingly, he failed which only added to the confusion of the situation. I know it was not his fault he couldn’t perform his kinetic anti-magic on Jacob, but for what reason I wasn’t sure. Unfortunately I was forced to hold him back from becoming a Sound-Walker Grimlar, else raise suspicion from the other elders that something strange is taking place. But even all of that commotion was trivial to what came next.

My main concern today was the parcel that King Esterjay had sent to me this morning, detailing the conditions of the Ultimate Knight competition. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the king’s reasoning behind holding the competition is sound. I feel have no choice but to host the competition.

“
Check the desk,” Umber insisted sharply. “We have to find that letter.”