Page 2 of Glutton for Punishment

I stare at the pile now resting at his feet.

“Ellias,” I say, still attempting to process my surroundings, “is this your home?”

He looks at me with genuine confusion. “No, of course not. This is my workshop.”

I lean back, careful not to touch anything nearby. With Ellias, I have learned that half of his possessions are likely priceless historical artifacts and the other half are probably things that would kill me if mishandled.

“Ellias, what am I doing here?” I ask, my patience beginning to wear thin. “You made an urgent request that I travel across half of Vail to meet you in the middle of nowhere. You requested potion ingredients that are not exactly easy to acquire. Forgive me for assuming something was wrong.”

I pause, studying him.

“Are you ill?”

He waves the suggestion away. “Absolutely not. Healthy as a horse.”

I raise an eyebrow. I have never met a horse that looked quite this close to death, but I decide against mentioning it.

“Then perhaps you can explain why you summoned me.”

Ellias moves toward one of the crowded tables, shifting aside several pieces of parchment before finding what he is searching for.

“You are overseeing the academy building plans, yes?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yes. That's what was decided.”

“Good. Very good.”

He nods to himself as though this confirms something. “I knew you would be the one they selected.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

He turns toward me, his expression losing some of its absent-mindedness. “Because you understand something that the others do not.”

I almost laugh. “Ellias, if this is another one of your philosophical speeches about the future of Vail, I should warn you I did not travel here for riddles.”

His lips twitch. “No. Not riddles.”

He reaches for a small wooden box sitting beneath a pile of old manuscripts. He handles it with a strange reverence, carefully removing the dust from the lid before placing it on the table between us.

“You see, Forest, everyone believes the academy will solve our problems.”

I glance at the box. “Well, yes, that is the purpose of it.”

“Yes,” he whispers. “That is what we have told ourselves.”

Something about his tone makes me uncomfortable. Ellias has always been strange, but there is a difference between eccentricity and crazy.

“What are you implying?”

He looks back toward the window, toward the endless forest surrounding us. “It’s no matter now.”

Ellias reaches across the cluttered table and retrieves a folded piece of parchment from beneath a stack of old manuscripts. He smooths it, almost delicately, before sliding it toward me.

“The reason I brought you here is because I need a set of specific potions made.”

I glance down at the parchment. “And?”