The Tiger's Eye (Book 1 of the Angus the Mage Series)

surprised to hear there was genuine concern in his voice. “But you know what they say: A thief who gets caught should find another profession.”

  “Yes,” Bug-Eyed Jake said. “You’ve told me that before, Typhus. That day you dragged me out of Tyrag’s tomb.”

  Angus shook his head. “I told you, my name is Angus, not Typhus,” he protested. “And I’ve never been to Tyrag.” Not that I can recall, he amended to himself. “We’ve never met.”

  “Now Typhus, don’t be like that,” he retorted. “We’ve known each other far too long for that, and you owe me.”

  Angus bristled, reached out for the magic and drew it closer to him. He reached inside himself, sought out the strands that were primed for the spell, merged them with those around himself, and made the simple little knot of the Lamplight spell. It burst into brilliance on his palm, and he lifted it high above his head.

  Bug-Eyed Jake cowered, covering his head in his arms and hurrying to the corner furthest away from Angus. “Put it out! Put it out!” he cried, but Angus ignored the little man. He looked almost like a rat curled in upon itself, but much dirtier.

  Angus rose to his full height—a mere five foot six inches—and stepped up to the metal bars separating the two cells from each other. “I am the wizard Angus,” he said, his voice controlled, tinged with a sinister undertone, “and I will not tolerate your insouciant blathering any longer. Is that understood?”

  Bug-Eyed Jake cringed, peeked over the top of his arm and blinked rapidly. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t know what insouciant means.”

  Angus frowned and hissed, “You are much too free with your tongue. Silence it.”

  “Yes, yes,” Bug-Eyed Jake said. “Just put that light out.”

  “I do not know you,” Angus continued. “We have never met, and you will not speak to me again. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” Bug-Eyed Jake whimpered. “No more talking. Just put that out.”

  “No,” Angus said. “But if you let me be, I will reduce the intensity. I need time to think, and I do not wish to be disturbed by the likes of you.” He turned and moved quickly to recapture the Lamplight spell and reduce its intensity—it was hurting his eyes, as well, but he had prepared himself for it—and then parked it behind his right shoulder. Then he moved back to the wall to sit and think.

  What happened? I was studying Teffles’ book and— No, I was taking a break from it. The shorthand was giving me a headache. I was going to write it out by longhand until—

  The wand. That’s what it was. I was trying to determine what the wand did. I had found the third sigil in Teffles’ spellbook, and I—

  Yes, that was it. The wand’s sigils. Wind. Temperature. Thunder. But they were vague references. Lots of different winds. Which one was it? And the temperature? High or low? Low, wasn’t it? High temperatures had the sphere of flame combined—

  But I couldn’t see the inner workings of the spell. The magic of the outer shell obscured it. I—

  No, I couldn’t have—

  Angus dropped his head in his hands and muttered, “How could I have been so stupid? Whatever possessed me to test the wand in there? It wasn’t a practice room; it didn’t have a protective barrier. There were no safeguards against—”

  Against what?

  What did the wand do? He had only intended to release the first knot so he could see the interior, but—

  “Giorge,” Angus said, rubbing his temples. “That fool—”

  Stop! Don’t dwell on the past, learn from it. Look to the present, the future. The present is bleak; there is nothing I can do about it. But the future….

  Giorge had knocked on his door, but I ignored him. I was too busy to be interrupted. I needed to focus on the wand.

  He knocked a second time, didn’t he? It doesn’t matter. I ignored that, too; only the wand mattered. I was too close to finding out what it did. I had to know.

  The idiot picked the lock. He was going to rob me, even after I had joined Hobart’s banner! I—

  But I didn’t know it was Giorge. I thought it was someone else coming to steal from me. Yes, that was it. Someone was breaking into my room and I—

  I defended myself with the wand. It was stupid. I didn’t even know what the wand did. I still don’t know what it does.

  The door opened. I was already breaking the last knot, the one holding the magic back, the point-and-release knot every wand has.

  Giorge stuck his head around the door and—

  “I almost killed him,” Angus said, shaking his head. “I should have killed him! But I redirected the wand’s spell to the outer wall. Then—”

  He frowned; his memory was fuzzy here. “What did the wand do?” he muttered. “There was the recoil from the spell’s release, and I was thrust back into the wall.” He shuddered, overwhelmed by the intense image of giant fire ants swarming over his body.

  Bones broke, he thought. A lot of them. I lost consciousness, but just before then, what did I see? What did the wand do?

  He thought for a long time, but it was of no use. He couldn’t remember what happened because there was nothing to remember. He had lost consciousness when he struck the wall. Then—

  Did I almost die?

  8

  Two days passed. He was fed a disturbing swill twice, its foul taste lingering for hours afterward. But it was edible if he pinched his nose, and at least he didn’t get sick from it. Bug-Eyed Jake made no attempt to talk to him, and no matter how hard he tried to remember what the wand had done, the knowledge just wasn’t there. It was like he had amnesia all over again, but this time it was only for that moment, and of all the moments he needed to remember, that was the one that mattered most.

  The guards only laughed when he asked what the charges were. Then they tormented Bug-Eyed Jake by telling him how they looked forward to cutting off his other hand. “Maybe we’ll take a foot, instead?” one of them said. “He might have prehensile toes.”

  That led to an extensive explanation of what prehensile meant before Bug-Eyed Jake adamantly denied having the ability to wrap his toes around coin purses or to pick locks. Then he amended his statement by adding, “At least, not good enough to avoid getting caught.”

  Then, just when he was expecting another bowl of the nearly inedible swill, Ortis came to visit.

  “Ortis!” Angus cried, jumping up and hurrying to the bars when he saw his companion. Then he noted the guard beside him and tried to corral his excitement.

  Ortis turned and slipped the guard a coin and asked, “A bit of privacy, please?”

  The guard nodded. “When you are ready, pound on the door.”

  “What am I charged with, Ortis?” Angus demanded as the guard walked away. “Why am I being held here?”

  “You’re lucky they didn’t let you die,” Ortis said. “If they had known who did it sooner, they would have.”

  “But,” Angus said. “What did I do? What am I charged with?”

  Ortis frowned and scratched his pale white cheek as the orange irises of his eyes narrowed. “Nothing, yet,” he said. “They haven’t decided which laws you actually broke.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Angus,” Ortis said, his tone puzzled, wavering. “Whatever possessed you to use that wand in Hedreth’s? Hobart told you that magic was strictly regulated here.”

  Angus nodded. Hobart had said it was regulated, but, “Hobart didn’t say it was prohibited,” he said.

  Ortis shook his head. “The prohibition was implied,” he said. “Hobart said not to use destructive magic in Hellsbreath, and that is exactly what you did.” He sniffed and scrunched up his nose. “And now you’re here, in this pungent little cell, paying the price.”

  “For how long?” Angus asked.

  “The damage was considerable, Angus. We’re trying to negotiate a fine instead of a long-term stay in one of these cozy little compartments.”

  “No,” Angus said, shaking his head. “How long was I unconscious?”

>   “Three days,” Ortis said. “If it weren’t for Giorge’s quick actions, you would be dead now. He staunched the bleeding long enough for the healer to get there.”

  Angus frowned. “I suppose he thinks I owe him my thanks,” he grumbled. “Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice harsh and unforgiving. “If he hadn’t tried to break into my room, I would not be here at all. He’s the reason I’m in here.”

  “He did considerably more for you than you realize, Angus,” Ortis objected. “But we will discuss that later, after we leave Hellsbreath.”

  “You sound confident that you’ll be able to get me out of here,” Angus said. “Why?”

  Ortis shrugged. “Hobart and Hedreth are still on friendly terms, despite what you did. Once you explain the situation to him and to the magistrate, we believe we can find a reasonable resolution. It will also be a costly one. You did a lot of damage.”

  “What kind?” Angus asked, his voice excited. “How much? What did the wand do? Can you describe it to me? I—”

  “Later,” Ortis cut him off. “I can’t stay much longer; I only gave the guard a silver. He’ll remember his duty soon. Besides, they confiscated the wand. We’re negotiating with them to have it returned to you when we leave, but don’t expect it.”

  “More negotiation,” Angus grumbled. “More cost. At this rate, I’ll be indebted to you for a very long time.”

  Ortis leaned in and lowered his voice. “No you won’t,” he whispered. “For good or ill, you are now part of our banner, and we take care of our own. Besides,” he glanced at the adjacent cell and lowered his voice even