“Vanishing hood?” she asked, stroking a silky fabric of beautiful navy blue cloak on an old-fashioned rack.
“Yes.” The young man’s smile grew bigger, however it almost faded as Violette said the next words.
“Nice but it's not rare in Chantoret.”
“Maybe, you can tell me what you'd like to see and who knows, maybe, it's here, in this room.”
Great.The words she exactly wanted to hear.
“Tempting offer but I doubt you have something like this,” she vaguely waved.
Her fingers crossed, hoping these words would deeply affect him and then she turned to him with her face.
“Maybe, you'll be quite impressed,” he said confidently. His posture shifted, he was on an urge to prove her wrong.
“I doubt it,” she retorted with a friendly smile but continued as she met his eyes filled with unbreakable assurance. “I heard about one extremely rare thing and had never seen it before. I might start believing it's just a legend.”
He was all ears. “Yes? And what is it?”
“A magic map that was enchanted by an old witch. I was told there was a little legend,” her fingers brushed upon the table surface as she was coming closer to him, “not really famous but quite intriguing. One witch had a hideaway for magical treasures. She cast a spell on that place and only those who have a map she enchanted can find it.”She stopped near Lord Adrogans, staring at him, her big eyes alluring, twinkling under the weak light.
“Uh…” he drawled with a satisfied smirk. “Today is a great day for me as I can impress such a beautiful lady.” His words were a song for her ears.
He waved his hand to the shelf at the wall.
She gave him a look full of mistrust, pretending like it's nearly impossible.
“Take a look, please.” His head swung in the direction of the glass cover. Under it the magic parchment inked with rivers, towns and forests –the map to the Grotto of Spells and Relics.
“No, you are trying to trick me. It can't be real,” she blew as she made her way to the shelf.
“It is indeed.” How proud he looked right now, she could recognize this expression from her own reflection in the mirror, every time she succeeded in brewing a new challenging potion.
“I can't believe it…” Her eyes scrutinized the map before they got back to Lord Adrogans.
“I'll show you closer,” with that said, he turned to the glass, taking out a small key.
The mechanical lock clicked and a pull-out shelf moved forward to them.
“Can I?” she gasped, her eyes filled with hope for approval to look at it closer.
He spread his hand to give her space.
Violette reached out to the map. She already could feel magic radiant under herfingertips. And as it was in her hands she felt – it was undoubtedly a paper soaked with true sorcery.
“Undeniably an incredible magic object,” she breathed without taking her eyes off. And she didn't lie, it was a perfect example of great magic skill. The witch who did it was decidedly proficient in the magic craft.
“See, I said I'm able to impress you.” The young man leaned toward the glass surface with his elbow. His proud and satisfied smile could brighten up the whole room.
Violette cast a sidelong glance at him.
“If you have this map, why didn't you try to find the witch's hideaway? I thought someone like you wouldn't want to miss a chance to find new magic artifacts,” she said.
He tilted his head to the side. “Oh, believe me I tried. I talked to many wizards and witches but nobody could make the map show the way to the secret place. They used some spells and magic powders but nothing revealed its secrets. In the end I came to terms that maybe it's not enchanted at all, maybe some trick to make others think it's a magic object or the spell is too strong to break.”
He was indeed right, with his second guess, of course: it was a strong spell and the wizards he talked to were definitely not familiar with Heggas’ powers and didn't know it has something to do with a special potion to reveal its magic. A recipe of which she and Dante elicited from the Queen’s spellbook.
“I gaveup but I'm happy to have such a thing in my collection, it's still fascinating and impressive,” he said placidly.
