Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

“Honestly, I think he’s really good at reading people. He knows I’m hiding something, and he’s determined to figure it out.”

“Maybe we need to give him something to discover before he finds out the truth.”

“My thoughts exactly. Can you come over to the house tonight? We could eat dinner and put our heads together.”

Charles paused, watching Markaeus hard at work mucking the first stall while Bozeman supervised. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, so it would need to be a late supper.”

“No problem. I’ll let Janice know.”

“Hey, are you sure Sergeant hasn’t bugged your cell phone or something?”

“I already thought of that. Bought a second phone yesterday, one of those pay-as-you-go things.”

“Okay. See you tonight.”

Charles hung up, inspecting a new blister on his thumb before re-donning his gloves.

Life might be simpler if we all just moved to Tenavae.

**************

“Is that what I think it is?” Alora’s mouth watered at the sight of a bulging zip lock bag in Beth’s hand. Her latest session under Laethan’s watchful eye left her ravenous, even after consuming a hefty dinner, the evidence of which still littered the table in Graely’s home.

The room was rustic, like a scene out of one of those old John Wayne movies Uncle Charles was so fond of, with a table constructed of heavy hand-hewn wood. A bench provided seating on one side and three chairs lined the other. Stacked stone lined the fireplace, currently swept clean, prepared for the first fire of winter. Sporting her jeans and t-shirt, Alora appeared strangely out-of-place.

I guess if I move here, I’ll

have to start dressing like everyone else. But I don’t know if I can ever give up blue jeans altogether.

Beth stretched her arm out, holding the enticing cookies in front of Alora’s eyes. “Yep. I brought chocolate chip cookies—gooey, just the way you like them. Luckily, they transport just fine, since Markaeus sealed up the portal.”

Before she could open the bag, Jireo snatched it from her hand. “I should eat these for you and leave you to a more salubrious fare to help you recover from your weakness.”

“Salubrious?” Beth asked.

“Just ignore him,” Alora said, jumping to reach the cookies Jireo held just out of reach. “He likes to taunt me with big words he learned from some app Wesley has on his phone.”

“So I hear they now think Vindrake didn’t make the portals.” Beth took two steps toward Jireo and stomped on the toe of his boot.

“Ow!”

As Jireo bent over, Beth grabbed the cookies from his surprised grasp, passing them to Alora.

“I baked these for Alora, so they’re hers to keep or share. But I might bring you some of your own when I come tomorrow, Jireo, if you ask me nicely.” Her voice sounded just like their second grade teacher, Ms. Mumley, a prim woman with a gray bee-hive hairdo and perpetually pursed lips.

Jireo exaggerated a limp to the bench beside the table, as if one leg were twelve inches shorter than the other. Lifting his deep green puppy-dog eyes, he peered at Alora through his thick blond lashes. “I believe my toe may be broken. If only I had a small bite of cookie to ease my pain...”

Alora matched Beth’s eye roll, opening the bag to take a cookie for herself and handing one to Jireo. Devouring the delicious treat in two bites, she licked the crumbs from her fingers.

“Yeah, they figure Vindrake wouldn’t be able to make a portal between Laegenshire and the hospital in Montana, without being at one place or the other,” said Alora, between licks. “Nordamen thinks Markaeus made the portals somehow, but Markaeus doesn’t remember doing anything. No one has ever heard of someone who can make portals.”

“It seems he can only make a portal to another gressor,” Jireo added, holding out his hand for a second cookie, which he received. “I believe we should make every attempt to rescue his grandfather before Markaeus inadvertently creates another one to Portshire.”

Beth sat down across from Jireo, elbows on the table, propping her chin in her hands. “That sounds pretty dangerous. Wouldn’t it be better to just figure out how Markaeus is making the portals so he doesn’t do it by accident? Couldn’t he practice with Arista somehow?”

Jireo nodded. “Nordamen’s plan, as well. Markaeus and my sister have done nothing else for at least a seven-day, with no results.”

“Maybe he can only make them from Montana to here,” Beth suggested, idly wiping the crumbs from the table into her palm and dumping them on an empty plate.