Rikvi walked into Riathan’s office and took a deep breath. She had tried scrying in her office at the Priory and gotten nothing. All the tools in the world couldn’t forge a connection. But this…yes, this would do.
She felt around in her pouches for what she needed. No, not the scrying bowl. Nor the candle. The crystal ball? Yes, the obsidian orb would do nicely.
Humming tunelessly, Rikvi sat crossed legged on the floor. She cupped the stone in her hands and stared at it, letting her gaze go soft and unfocused.
Where is the man whose power hummed in this office, still? She gathered up the unique energy traces Riathan carried–the cool, blue, orderly magic of a guardian and….cast her mind out, searching.
Stone. Salt.
The ache of tired muscles.
Dust. The coppery tang of blood.
…and Raven’s gift fled her as swiftly as it had come. “Well, that is something,” Rivki said, She winced as she stood, suddenly feeling her years. It’s not that she was old, just…she wasn’t twenty any more, either. Was she forty now? It wasn’t worth counting.
Irrelevant. She had one more piece of information for the guild.
“I am glad to be of use this way but we need to stop having people get lost,” she groused, shuffling off to write a letter to Koryander.
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