Noa glared right back. “I didn’t think you were listening to that.”
“It’s hard not to listen to someone at that volume. I’ve never had a worse headache.”
Noa silently counted to five. Did Julian really believe that he hadn’t, even in the smallest way, deserved to be yelled at? Sometimes Noa wondered if her secret mission hadn’t already failed.
“Also,” Julian said distractedly, reaching for another book, “what’s this about me and Leo? Shelby told me yesterday that you said we were an item.”
It took Noa a moment to remember that she had in fact said this, and to understand that Shelby must be the green-eyed sentry who’d summoned her to the council meeting. “What? You and Leo?”
Julian wasn’t fooled. “You shouldn’t spread rumors like that, Noa. Were you making fun of him? Just because someone could use a bath doesn’t mean they deserve—”
“I wasn’t making fun,” she said through gritted teeth, thinking how rich it was for Julian to lecture her about mocking someone’s hygiene when he went around turning people into zombies and feeding them to sea serpents. There were moments when she wanted to strangle him, and others when she wondered why she hadn’t already.
She looked at the book, and again felt that scratchy feeling. Was it her imagination, or were there more shadows in Julian’s tower than usual? “What power do you think that book has?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his head, making more of his hair stick up. “The ancient mages didn’t provide any clues. Well—except for this, I suppose. It was marking one of the pages.”
He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was a strip of hide from some sort of animal. The fur was brownish and soft. As she stroked it, some of the fibers crumbled. Like the book, the hide was very old.
“What if it’s something bad?” Noa said.
“There are no ‘bad’ magics,” Julian said, and Noa finished for him quickly, before he could go off on one of his soliloquys, “Only magics that people are afraid of. I know, I know.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. “Have you had the other mages look at it?”
“Yes. None of them can read it, either.”
“Maybe nobody can. Maybe magic dies if it’s locked away too long.”
“Maybe.” Julian sighed. Absently, he reached out and plucked leaves from Noa’s hair that she must have accumulated during her morning survey. He didn’t look irritated anymore, only tired. “So what should we do?”
Noa’s eyebrows shot up into her scalp. Julian smiled. “I’m not sure I deserve that look. It’s not as if I never ask for your advice.”
You used to. But Noa didn’t want to start an argument now. In fact, with Julian sitting there smiling at her with his old smile, she just wanted to forgive him for everything.
“We might not be able to speak whatever language is in that book,” she said. “But we stopped Xavier from getting it. So you should congratulate your mages, and the sailors, too, especially after scaring them half to death yesterday. Where else has Xavier been looking for the Lost Words?”
“The southern reaches of the Ayora Sea. Greenwash Strait. Thadeus doesn’t know if Xavier has ships there now, or if they’ve come and gone. That’s the extent of his knowledge—we’d have to capture another one of Xavier’s mages to get more recent information.”
Noa fixed him with her iciest stare. “And if we do capture one?”
Julian pressed his hand against his face with a groan. “We’ll tickle their toes until they talk. I don’t care—you’re in charge of prisoners from now on, Noabell. I can’t take any more harassment from you. I still have a headache, you know.”
“Serves you right,” Noa said loftily, but inside she was exulting. True, refraining from doing a bad thing because you didn’t like being lectured wasn’t quite the same as having morals about it, but she chose to see it as progress nevertheless.
“We should set sail for Greenwash Strait today,” she said. “Hopefully the king hasn’t sent his entire navy there. You can obsess over that old book on the way.”
“Fine.” His gaze drifted, and he lost his Old Julian look, which was replaced with what Noa thought of as his Dark Lord Julian look. “I wouldn’t mind if the king’s navy was there. I have a few ideas for how to repay Xavier for those mangoes.”
Noa stood up. “Well, you don’t need my help with that.”
“I can give you advice, Julian,” Mite piped up.
Julian rose. “I’m sure you can, Maita. Would this advice be pertaining to cakes, by chance? I’m afraid you have to eat your salad before we discuss that subject.”
“It’s not about cakes!” Mite said. “It’s about the cats. I have an idea for how we can stop them catching birds.”
“And bugs, too, I suppose.”
As Mite launched to a complicated description of a cat warning system involving magical bells and light beams, Noa slipped away. Before the tower door closed behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. It seemed for a moment as if a shadow hung in the air above Julian, stretching dark tendrils out as if to embrace him. But then she blinked, and the apparition vanished.
That afternoon, Noa tried to write in her Chronicle, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the book from Evert and those strange, swimmy words. She didn’t know why she was so fascinated by some moldy old magical book that was probably useless, but for some reason, part of her wanted to look at it again.
She paced through the castle, along the beach, then back up to the castle (there were still cakes in the kitchen, and she tucked two chocolate creams into the pockets of her cloak). Eventually, her wandering feet took her to the throne room.
It was empty, except for Asha and another mage, who sat on
