Hadrian started searching his clothing. “Hunting a boar!” he exclaimed as he pulled out the note from his father. He rushed toward the firelight. “‘A king and his knight went hunting a boar; a rat and his friends were hunting for lore.’ A rat and a boar—Ratibor! The king and his knight are my father and the heir, who must have traveled to Ratibor and were attacked by lore hunters.” Hadrian pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the dead men. “Seret.”

“What’s the rest of it?” Royce asked, intrigued.

“‘Together they fought, till one was alive. The knight sadly wept; no king had survived.’”

“So they fought, but only your father survived the battle and the heir was killed.”

“No king had survived,” Hadrian said. “An odd way to put that, isn’t it? Why not say ‘The king died’?”

“Because it doesn’t rhyme?” Royce suggested.

“Good point.”

“What comes next?” Arista asked.

“‘The answers to riddles, to secrets and more, are found in the middle of Legends and Lore.’”

“There’s more to the story, apparently,” she said, “and you can find the answers in ancient lore? Maybe you should ask Arcadius.”

“I think not,” Royce said. “There’s a street in Ratibor called Legends Avenue and another named Lore Street.”

“Do they intersect?”

Royce nodded. “Just a bit south of Central Square.”

“And what’s there?”

“A church, I think.”

“Royce is right. We need to get to Ratibor,” Hadrian announced.

Arista stood up. “Trust me, I’m more than ready to leave this place. When I—” She stopped herself. “When I used the Art, I sensed something unpleasant. It feels …”

“Haunted,” Royce provided, and she nodded.

“What is this place?” Royce asked Hadrian.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s only a few miles from where you grew up.”

Hadrian shrugged. “Folks in Hintindar never talked about it much. There are a few ghost stories and rumors of goblins and ghouls that roam the woods, that kind of thing.”

“Nothing about what it was?”

“There was a children’s rhyme I remember, something like,

Ancient stones upon the Lee,
dusts of memories gone we see.
Once the center, once the all,
lost forever, fall the wall.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hadrian shrugged again. “We used to sing it when playing Fall-the-Wall—it’s a kids’ game.”

“I see,” Royce lied.

“Whatever it used to be, I don’t like it,” Arista declared.

Royce nodded. “It almost makes me look forward to Ratibor—almost.”

CHAPTER 10

REWARDS