The Egyptian’s countenance grew grimmer. “And I should return to her bedside even now. She grows more fragile with every passing hour.” He collected his leech jar and headed toward the door.
“Thank you for your care,” Balam called over to him.
“Yes…thank you,” Jake said.
Zahur said not a word and vanished through the door.
Oswin made a dismissive sound. “I don’t care what you say. Something still stinks like a pile of skunktoad about all this. Maybe the stingtail flew in there…and maybe someone planted it in there.”
“Planted?” Balam scoffed.
“To kill the boy.”
Balam frowned at Oswin and gave him a slight shake of the head, as if to say Not in front of the kids.
But Jake sat straighter. “Who would want to kill me?”
Oswin shrugged. “Perhaps one of the Skull King’s spies. Maybe he fears your sy-enz. Either way, you are an unknown piece in whatever game Kalverum is playing. Maybe he wants to take you off the board.”
“Oswin, that’s enough,” Balam said. “You’ll have the poor boy jumping at every shadow.”
Oswin sighed. “Maybe it’s time we were all jumping a bit more at shadows.” He shook his head and lumbered toward the door. “Or maybe I’m just too tired. Everything looks the darkest in the middle of the night.”
After he departed, Balam touched Jake’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. It was just an unfortunate set of circumstances. An accident.”
But the fat Magister’s words stayed with Jake. His father had once said, Words are like bullets; once shot, they can’t be taken back. And those bullets had struck deep into Jake.
If it wasn’t an accident, who could have planted the scorpion in his bed? Jake pictured the Egyptian Magister, who by his own word admitted that the stingtail had come from his cellar laboratories. But Jake also stared at the narrow door at the back wall of the common room. He remembered how he’d found his clothes laundered and folded. Bach’uuk had come and gone during the night without waking Jake before. And who else knew about the servant stairs that wormed secretly through the tower? The assassin could be anyone.
Jake set his mug on the tabletop, losing all interest in the hot chocolate as a new fear struck through him. If it wasn’t an accident…if someone truly sought to kill him…
Balam must have read the distress in his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Kady…my sister…”
Jake didn’t have to say more. Balam’s eyes widened. He immediately knew what worried Jake, and that scared Jake even more. Despite Balam’s attempt to dismiss the attack as an accident, the Magister must have had some unspoken suspicions.
“I will go up to the Astromicon and call upon Bornholm. Make sure she is safe.” He headed toward the door in his robe. Jake stood up to follow, but he swayed a bit on his feet. Balam pointed to him. “Stay here. Mari, make sure he rests. Warm up his cacao.”
“Yes, Papa.”
After he left, Marika pushed a chair closer to Jake and sat down next to him. A moment of uncomfortable silence stretched, maybe because he was half naked under his blanket. But then she turned to him and spoke firmly.
“I saw what you did to that stingtail,” she said. “Bach’uuk helped me clean it up while you were being leeched of the poison.”
She reached into a pocket and placed something on the table. It was the barb of the scorpion. “The Ur believe that what is killed should be honored, a piece kept for the hunter.”
Jake refused to touch it.
“I’ve boiled it clean of any poison,” she said upon seeing his expression. “It’s safe.”
He carefully snaked out an arm from his blanket and touched the barb. It had almost killed him. He picked up the barb and examined it. He could see himself one day placing it into his own Cabinet of Curiosity. The idea helped push back the edge of terror. It even made him a little less worried about Kady. She had to be fine.
“Thanks, Mari.”
She glanced away a bit too quickly, blushing just a bit. “Bach’uuk suggested I give it to you. It was his idea. He seems really fascinated by you.”
Jake remembered the Neanderthal boy touching a finger to his lips.
Marika suddenly stood up. “Would you like me to warm your cacao?” Before he could even answer, she had grabbed his mug and crossed to a sideboard against the wall. A stone pitcher rested on a trivet supported by four glowing ruby crystals. A gentle steam rose from the pitcher. Marika lifted the pitcher and carefully topped off his mug.
She came back. The blush was gone from her face, replaced with worry. She glanced to the home’s door, then back to Jake. As Jake warmed his hands on the hot mug, Marika settled next to him again. Her brow was furrowed in thought.
“What?” Jake asked.
She shook her head.
“No, tell me.”
She thought for an extra moment, then spoke. “I didn’t tell my father this, and maybe I imagined it. I don’t know. But I remember waking earlier in the night. I thought I heard someone out in the hall, but when I listened harder, all seemed quiet. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it and went back to sleep. And maybe it was nothing.”
Or maybe it wasn’t.
Before they could talk further, the door swung open and Marika’s father stumbled into the room, wheezing, out of breath. He must have run all the way there.
Jake stood up, fear for his sister drawing him to his feet.
Balam waved Jake back down. “She…she’s fine,” he gasped out. “I got Bornholm all stirred up like a nest of ants, but there’s been no trouble there.” Balam reached the table and leaned an arm on it. “See, it was probably all an accident, like I said.”
Jake felt a surge of relief that Kady was safe, but it failed to completely wash away the suspicion in his heart. Magister Oswin’s earlier words stayed with him.
And words are like bullets…
Jake clutched the scorpion’s barb. He stared over to Marika and read the same doubt in her eyes. No matter what anyone said, Jake knew the attack had been no accident.
But who wanted him dead?
15
THE CRYSTAL HEART OF KUKULKAN
The next morning, Jake sat in the Astromicon, starting his apprenticeship. He felt 1,000 percent better.
Balam gave him a wooden tray that was sectioned into little boxes. The boxes held shards of crystals across a rainbow of colors. There had to be more than a hundred different shades.