Magic's Memories

Chapter Forty-four

The room swayed beneath his feet. Feyla grabbed his arm to steady him as denial rushed from his throat. "No, I couldn't, I..."

"Lots of wizards work under the Blacksuns. Don't be so surprised. Think your old records might be hanging around here still, actually." The half-goblin dipped out of the room and returned a minute later. He thumbed through a large—a very large—records book. The sight of it made Reiden's mouth run dry. "Yep, Dormaeus Carrow. Blackguard member."

"What—what does that mean?" The question slipped out before he could decide if he wanted to know.

"Oh, ya know, lots of stuff. We cut you a deal on spell materials and you...do some favors for us." He turned a page in the record's book. "Although looks like you were workin' extra for some more coin. What'd you need the money for?"

A flash of memory. Hunger gnawing. Powerless. His brother staring up and asking what they were going to do. An old fey offering to teach him something to change that. Learning to harness his magic. Learning to harness something beyond his magic. Learning to love the buzz of power through his skin. Learning to kill, to protect, to take, until—

"That's none of your business," he snapped. The words came out with a sharp, dark edge and he could feel Feyla stiffening beside him.

Hobrin shrugged. He snapped the book closed. "Seems you did a lot of enforcement work. Takin' out rivals for us and the like. Bit of arson and thievery on the side. Some nasty magic stuff."

The anger left him like boiling water spilling from a pot, allowing a chill to take its place. "Can I see it?" he asked, holding his hand out for the book.

Feyla touched his arm. "Are you sure you want to see all of that?"

Reiden flinched. He cast his mind back to when he'd first seen Desden in that dark alley. Then to before that. The war raging in his head struck blows again. Did he? Every step he'd taken since meeting Desden had drawn more memories closer to the surface. Memories of a person he wasn't sure he wanted to become again.

His hand reached into his pocket and traced the embroidery on Laryssa's handkerchief. The scent of perfume lingered at his nose like a ghost. He couldn't reject his past without rejecting her. Without rejecting Desden too.

Those wide, scared eyes burned into his mind again and his decision was made. "Show me the book."

Hobrin handed over the heavy tomb and he started flipping. He started slowly, lingering over his record of past sins written in a firm, black ink. It began with small jobs. Theft, a few scuffles with rival sellers. Then the ink grew blacker and thicker and the payments grew larger. He read the names of the people he'd killed and the tips of his fingers grew cold. Memories started sparking. Faces, some innocent, some wicked, until his mind had stopped discerning between the two. Only ugly black names remained.

His breath grew short. Feyla touched his arm but he didn't feel it. The world began to feel like he was back in Desden's memory spell. Removed. Foggy. The only thing he was capable of doing was turning to pages. He kept reading and reading, trapped by the bloody story in front of him, waiting desperately for—

The ink stopped. He blinked, glancing back at the last few entries. He'd paid off debts and bought...tickets? Passage for three to Onryx in the Northlands. He skipped ahead to the final entry. It marked him down as having additional funding because he'd only picked up one of them. Rereading the entries before those showed a decline in jobs and bloodshed. Like he'd been trying to stop.

Dormaeus closed the book slowly. "Did my brother work here too?" he asked.

"Not officially. He'd help you but I never saw him 'till he came around recently. You tended to keep him out of our sight. Which was probably a smart idea." Hobrin took the book back and set it on the desk.