I froze after hearing the deep voice behind me. Avian’s hands went to her belt, where she still had several daggers. I didn’t reach for my sword, not yet. Whoever was behind us might see the attempt and determine we were a threat. While Avian’s movements were swift and often unnoticeable, mine were not as graceful.

  “Layla said you would come,” he said.

  Avian’s hands retreated from her weapons. “Did she tell you our purpose?” She turned to face him.

  I spun, locking eyes on a tall stick of a man. His sunken eyes flickered from Avian, to me, and back. Lifting an arm that appeared to be bone with skin hanging off, he pointed at us. “She claimed to be sending an apprentice, but I see only old men and a brigand murderer.” Nodding his head toward his front door, he said, “Let us go in. We don’t want to be lingering around out here.” He glanced in both directions as if his paranoia emphasized his point.

  His hunting lodge was constructed of long, intact logs. On the front, a single window and door were carved into the sturdy frame. The door was built from metal, as were the shutters that covered the window. He fumbled with the lock, his bony hands shaking as he struggled to get the key into the hole. Except for the homes of royals, I hadn’t seen one that included an exterior lock. I wondered if he had many valuables to protect, or if he feared the Mallma guards so much that he didn’t want to chance them gaining access while he was away. I shuddered at the thought of opening a door to find a squad of them lurking inside.

  A waft of putrid air seeped out as the door swung open. Both Sani and Avian flinched, moving a step back while bringing their arms over their mouths and noses. Dante’s face remained stone, as if he had lost his ability to smell. He scurried inside, letting the door start to close.

  I grabbed the door, holding it open while trying to keep my mouth closed. The stench was best described as body odor mixed with death and cat urine. As awful as it smelled, I didn’t want to know what the air tasted like. I held the door until Sani and Kiri walked through. Until stepping into that room, I didn’t think I’d ever long to be back at the tannery.

  From the looks of the inside, Dante had never thrown anything away in his life. Stacks of boxes, garbage, scraps, and random ingredients created a maze through the tight space. At times, I walked sideways to avoid touching the high walls of trash. We made our way to the center of the room. A deer carcass hung from the ceiling, still dripping blood onto the floor of the lodge. Surrounding the dead animal were piles of bones, bile, and guts. All in different stages of decay.

  Dante peered at Sani. “A human?”

  Sani nodded.

  “Can you cook, human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make yourself useful and prepare that deer.” Dante rubbed his thin stomach. “I’m starving.”

  I nearly keeled over. What little food I had in my stomach fought to get back out. How could this man eat in here? I wondered if I would ever enjoy food again after experiencing this place.

  He switched his focus to me. “You don’t look so good.” He shook his head. “You’ll need a stronger constitution to be a viable apprentice.”

  Avian stepped forward. “I think there has been some miscommunication.” She paused, studying his face. “We haven’t much time. We must move on to the capital very soon.”

  He scoffed. “This one’s too old to train anyhow.” He looked me up and down. “Doesn’t look particularly bright either.”

  I glanced at Sani and uttered, “I think he mistakes my dumbfounded expression.”

  Sani scanned the room, a look of disgust plastered on his normally stoic face. “Perhaps it is this place. My tribe once drank tainted water and couldn’t take the steps needed to clear the camp before releasing their bowels. This is worse.”

  Dante waved his hand dismissively, “Start cooking.” He turned to Avian. “I told Layla I needed a new apprentice.”

  Almost under her breath, Avian replied, “The last three barely lasted a night. She is reluctant to send another.”

  He scoffed. “They were weak.” He pulled a vial from an inside jacket pocket and offered it to me. “Drink this.”

  I reached out to grab it, but Avian slapped my hand away. “He’s not your apprentice and will test nothing experimental.”

  Sani sliced meat from the hanging deer, then glanced around the room. “Where is the stove?”

  Dante put his hands on his hips and huffed. “Follow me.” Dante turned and weaved between stacks of trash, waving for us to keep up.

  He stopped as we reached the only cleared-out area. A cot sat near the fireplace. On the other side of the fire was a wooden table without chairs. Its surface was higher than most I’ve seen, making me think he either stood while eating, or it served another purpose. The small corner appeared to be his kitchen, bedroom, and workshop.

  I noticed small urns filled to the brim with liquid stacked next to his bed. My food threatened to come up again as I realized this was also his latrine. I didn’t understand how anyone could sleep so close to their urine. At least I hoped it wasn’t something worse.

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  Dante made eye contact with Sani and pointed to the fireplace, which didn’t have a grill or spit.

  After scratching his chin, Sani stabbed the meat with his spear and held it over the flames.

  Dante glared at Avian. “I have a deal with Layla. She isn’t holding up her end.” He crossed his arms. “Go back and tell her to send me an apprentice. I won’t show this one anything until you do.”

  “She feared you would push back.” Taking a few steps towards him, she lowered her voice. “The forgotten are growing impatient with you. This she knows. Mallma hasn’t given up their search either. You are out here alone, with dangers on all sides. Do you really want to squander the last real ally you have?”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at Avian. “If I help, can I expect another apprentice? One not too much of a drux to work here.” He glanced around. “Without one, I can’t finish my research.”

  That was the second time in as many nights that someone had referred to me as such. If I didn’t fear it would cause me to breathe heavier, taking in more of this awful air, I would have pulled my sword and cut the gross man down. I doubted he would be much of a challenge, as he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in many nights.

  Instead, I found myself obsessing over why he needed an assistant, and what had happened to the others Layla had sent. More importantly, I didn’t like the idea of trading a young life for whatever help this crazy old man could manage. Considering the torment the child would go through in this place, before their likely painful death, made me want to go bathe in the stream. “I’m not comfortable with such an exchange.”

  Dante crossed his arms. “Then I see no way forward.”

  Avian shook her head at me, then locked eyes with Dante. “Layla is invested in your research for reasons I have yet to understand.” She glanced at me. “Even if you refuse to train with him, she will still send another apprentice. Refusing will only mean you die faster on this suicide mission of yours.” She snapped her fingers. “Both of you, get to that damn table and let’s get this going. I don’t want to smell this place any longer than I must.”

  Dante huffed. “It’s not so bad. Just needs some tidying.”

  Sani brought him the first steak. Dante pulled it from the spear and ate it, barely chewing. “Keep them coming,” he said.

  As Sani disappeared into the maze of trash, Dante put his hands up, getting impatient. “Bring the damn grimoire.”

  I fished it out of my bag and carried it to him.

  “What do you know about spellcraft?” He asked.

  “I’ve drank a potion when working as a scout that allowed me to see further.”

  “I didn’t ask what you know about drinking potions.” The flappy skin covering his cheeks trembled as he spoke. “What do you know of making them?”

  “They are a mixture of ingredients.”

  He hung his head and shook it. “This one knows nothing after how many winters.” He glared at me out of the corner of his eye. “Are you from Mallma?”

  I nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” He rifled through a few boxes, pulling out several sacks. “The royals make sure their people are in the dark when it comes to spell craft. I’ll have to train you as if you were a child.” He centered a mortal and pestle on the table, then opened a grimoire. “We’ll start with a simple healing spell.” He pushed the grimoire to me. “This was the book my last apprentice used.”

  I peered at the page. A list of four ingredients were scrawled across the top. Below were the names of famous battles. “I understand these items, but what does this all mean?”

  Dante rubbed his stomach, then shouted loud enough for Sani to hear, “Hurry with that meat, I don’t mind it pink.” He braced himself against the table, looking as if he would topple over at the slightest breeze.

  “Is everything all right?” Despite gobbling down a steak a moment ago, he still looked as if he would die of hunger any moment. Looking at his frail physique, I figured one steak would fill the thin man up. At the very least, it should have staved off his hunger.

  Dante burped. Then his stomach growled. “Before we discuss the words on the page, let me explain the importance of protecting your spells. The easiest way to reverse the effects of a potion is to craft the reverse. As such, any Nasar Wigon worth his name prevents others from knowing his recipes. The most common way to prevent this is to perform a binding spell on your grimoire. The one you brought has been bound.” Lifting the apprentice’s book, he added, “He hadn’t learned binding yet, so anyone can open his book.” He rolled his eyes.

  Sani returned with another steak. Dante snatched it from the spear and chomped it down.

  “Anyone else want one?” Sani asked.

  Dante shook his head. “Don’t worry about them, just keep bringing them to me.”

  “How many do you want?” Sani asked

  Snapping at him, he said, “You can stop cooking when I tell you to!”

  Sani put his hands up and scurried away. Dante’s appetite didn’t make any sense to me. Of all the stories I heard of spell-craft, nothing suggested an increase in one’s food intake was necessary when developing potions. This had to be something else. Perhaps he has a few parasites from the living conditions. The thought made me close my lips tightly and clench my buttocks. I didn’t want an opening for something to worm its way into me.

  Dante continued explaining. “Some will give nicknames and codewords to their ingredients. Not this genius though.” He sighed. “That’s why I didn’t waste any more food on him.” Peering back at the book, he said, “The writing below is what the wigon will chant when mixing the ingredients.”

  “Why battle names? Shouldn’t it be some creepy outdated language?” I asked.

  “Everyone worries about the words. They hold no power, but only serve to guide the mixing. Each wigon creates his own style. The writing indicates how long to stir each ingredient, what order to stir them in, the motion of the pestle, and when to change directions.” He pointed at the writing. “He liked reading about the old battles, so he used them, something he was very familiar with.”

  He set four sacks on the table. “Here are the ingredients. I’ll tell you how much of each to use, and exactly what to do. I watched him mix, so I already matched his style to his words. This is an easy spell, hard to mess up, and not very dangerous if the mistakes are slight. Use it to learn a bit about his style, so you can better understand his other spells.”

  Dante directed as I mixed. After finishing, I had a fine powder.

  He handed me a vial with water in it. “The water is free of any impurities that could interfere with the spell. Add your mixture to this.”

  I poured the powder in, then shook the vial. The mixture turned light blue.

  “Drink it!” Dante said.

  I held the vial up to the light, uncertain what bothered me worse, not being sure of the potion’s effects, or knowing the ingredients were stored in this disgusting room. Despite his claim that the water was free of impurities, there was no way to tell if it had something extra in it. Perhaps it contained whatever was causing Dante to need to continuously eat.

  He threw his hands up. “Just drink it.”

  I thought quickly, trying to come up with an excuse for not wanting to drink the contents. “Perhaps we shouldn’t waste this on someone who isn’t injured.”

  “Interesting point,” Dante said. For such a frail man, his fingers were nimble when he needed them to be. He moved so quickly that I didn’t see him pull the dagger. I tried to block him, but was too late, hitting his arm after the blade sank into my abdomen.

  I stumbled back, keeping the vial in my right hand as I pressed against the bleeding wound with the other one.

  “Now it won’t be wasted,” Dante said.