Or was he saying that this was the beginning of the path to her finding truth, and that path had taken her to Merritt?

Chapter 63

Magda again ran her fingers over the letters as Merritt stepped up beside her at the workbench. His gaze scanned the tools off to the side.

“This is where Baraccus made things, then? This room, this workbench?”

Magda nodded as she gestured to the side. “I used to sit on this crate, here, and watch him work.”

Magda glanced to the ornately engraved silver box to the side of the table that held treasured memories. Baraccus seemed so distant, now. In some ways it was all like only yesterday, but in other ways it all seemed so long ago in her life. She missed him, but even that pain was gradually fading as she worried about all the immediate problems.

“Did he make that as well?” Merritt asked, gesturing to the silver box.

Magda nodded as she pulled it closer to show him. She ran her fingers over the top, much as she had done with the letters on the sword, and then opened the lid.

“It just holds some small memories of things he gave me.”

Magda lifted out the white flower to show him.

Merritt looked somewhat surprised. “That’s pretty rare. I’ve only seen one of those once before.”

Magda twirled the flower between a finger and thumb. “You know what this is, then? Baraccus said it was rare, but never mentioned the name.”

“It’s called a confession flower.”

Magda frowned. “Really? A confession flower? Why would it be called that?”

“Because a confession is a revelation of the truth. Truth is pure. White is pure. Thus the name.”

“That’s a lovely name, for a lovely flower,” she said as she replaced the flower and closed the lid.

“Maybe you could come watch me make something, someday.”

Magda smiled. “I’d like that.” She hopped up onto her seat on the crate and pointed at the well-used collection of exquisite metalsmithing tools, semiprecious stones in divided wooden trays, assorted supplies, and the small books filled with notes that had belonged to her husband.

“I was making an excuse at the time,” she said, “but I think Baraccus would like you to have his tools.”

Merritt’s eyes lit up. “You really think so? Me, have the tools that belong to a First Wizard?”

“I guess that they’re my tools now. I know that I would like you to have them. I really do think that Baraccus would approve. He would want them to go to a good use, to a good person.”

Merritt reached out and reverently touched some of the small tools in the collection. They really did seem to mean a great deal to Merritt. He respected their value.

“These are some of the finest tools I’ve ever seen.”