Free Kendra Kandlestar and the Crack in Kazah by Lee Edward Födi Page B

“Y-yes, sir.”
    “As for you,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, turning his steely gaze to Kendra, “you can clean the house.”
    “What about Gayla?” Kendra asked.
    “Humph,” the wizard grunted in an anxious, worried type of way. “She didn’t come home.” Then he looked sternly at Kendra. “Do you know where she is?”
    Kendra shook her head, nervously twisting her braids.
    “She must go before the elders and formally explain her accusation of Master Brown,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If she returns home then tell her to immediately go to the Elder Stone. May the ancients help her if she does not!”
    Kendra nodded and Uncle Griffinskitch shunted Oki out the door, leaving her all alone in the kitchen. Only a day ago, Gayla had been dancing across the floor, singing merrily, but now the house felt cold and somber, quiet as a tomb.
    Kendra sighed and began tidying up the kitchen, her mind fretting. It only took her an hour to clean up the bottom part of the house; then she began scrubbing the long staircase that led to the upper chambers.
    She had made it only halfway up when she suddenly noticed that one of the paintings on the wall was askew. It was an enormous portrait of an ancient Een wizard (Kendra couldn’t remember who he was, just that he was some long-dead ancestor). Kendra had always disliked the picture, but now, as she reached for the heavy wood frame, she realized that it wasn’t crooked at all. It just looked that way because it was angled towards her, like a door that had been left slightly ajar.
    Strange, Kendra thought as she wriggled her fingers behind the frame. She tugged, and sure enough, the painting swung towards her, creaking ever so quietly on a pair of hidden hinges.
    It was a door.
    A strange mixture of scents reached Kendra’s nostrils: dust, incense, and decaying parchment. Kendra instantly knew she had found entry to her uncle’s study. It was a private place, one that the old wizard kept hidden with secret doors and passageways. Kendra had managed to find her way in a few times as a child, but Uncle Griffinskitch was careful to relocate the door every few months. This particular portrait was an entryway that Kendra had never before discovered.
    Why would he leave it open? she wondered. It’s not like Uncle Griffinskitch to be so careless.
    She couldn’t resist the temptation to enter. Casting a weary glance over her shoulder, she tiptoed inside.
    A long, narrow staircase spiraled up towards the top of the tree. Kendra began the climb, carefully feeling her way in the darkness. With each step the smells grew stronger, but it took a few minutes for her to reach the chamber itself. It was a gloomy place, utterly quiet. Row upon row of bookshelves towered over her head. More books could be found on desks and ledges, arranged in high piles. Here too were scrolls, parchments, and even a tusked skull: An Unger, Kendra thought with a shudder.

    Suddenly she heard a noise, like the flip of a page, and it caused her to gasp—though she managed to catch the sound in her throat. Someone was in the room.
    Kendra slowly turned and peered around one of the bookshelves.
    It was Gayla.
    She was sitting at a tall desk where an enormous book lay open before her, and she was reading it quietly to herself, tracing the lines of text with one long finger. She seemed completely lost in her own world, and for a moment Kendra just watched her. Then Gayla reached into her robe and lifted something to the faint light.
    Kendra cried out in surprise. Gayla looked up, wide-eyed and startled; in her hand, brooding dark and purple, was the Kazah stone.

     



THE EENS HAVE A FAMOUS SAYING: “The sharpest burr is the one you find in your shoe,” meaning that it’s those closest to us who can cause us the most pain. Kendra had never really understood that adage until now. Why, she had been betrayed by her own mother—and it wounded her as surely as the snap of a dragon’s tail.
    “You lied,” Kendra