pockets, then followed Jaxson and Amal through the cobblestone streets of
the tiny village. Ivy draped over the old stone buildings, and planters
brimmed with flowers. It was like the village had been lost to time.
According to Amal, the town had originally been built by the Etruscans,
who’d dug caves into the hard layer of volcanic tuff. Over the millennia, the
underlying clay had eroded away, leaving the plateau isolated in the middle
of the valley, and most of the population had moved away.
Only a few windows were lit, and we hugged the shadows. Jaxson was
quiet, but Amal moved like a ghost.
Our plan was simple: knock on the door, and if no one answered, sneak in
with the assumption that Kahanov was already inside.
The mage’s tower was impossible to miss. It soared above the town. Built
of ancient limestone blocks, it almost glowed in the moonlight.
Problematically, however, there wasn’t a door, just a brass knocker mounted
on the wall above a set of stairs.
Amal kept a wary eye on the dark, crooked street while we climbed the
steps. Jaxson casually slammed the knocker three times. No response.
After trying again, he ran his hand over the stone where a door should
have been. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Amal nodded. “I think we need to assume the worst. Kahanov had a day’s
lead on us.”
“Okay, so let’s find an alternate entrance, seeing as there’s no door to
break down.”
Amal slipped her phone out and pulled up an aerial map. “The mage has
an isolated garden that protrudes over the cliff. We might be able to climb
down into it from some of the houses at the edge of the butte.”
Jaxson glanced up at the tiled roofs of the houses around us. “So, over the
top?”
“My favorite way.” Amal crouched and leapt. She soared into the air and
landed lightly on the roof two stories above.