Page 68 of Fate Promised

“I know how to activate the bowl.” When Triska joined the others, Fergal stood with his palms on the table, his expression grim. Triska’s stomach dropped; whatever he’d found out couldn’t be good.

The gray sky was darker today, with a purple smudge at the horizon. A smattering of rain hit like small rocks on the windowpane behind Fergal, and it was the only sound in the room for a long moment.

“Are you leaving us in suspense on purpose, or did you fall asleep?” Koschei asked. “I find it hard to believe you’ve found anything about this bowl that I haven’t discovered yet.”

Fergal pointed at the marble bowl. “I’ve figured out what this is made of.”

She frowned. “Isn’t it marble?”

Juri stepped over to the table. “And? How does that help us? We need it to turn on.”

“Come here.” Fergal patted the table next to him, and Juri walked over. He picked up Juri’s hand and ran one of his claws over the base of the black bowl. A scratch appeared, then just as quickly disappeared. “It’s a special stone. A gemstone actually, and one Triska knows.”

Triska sidled up next to Juri and leaned over the table with him. She ran a fingertip over the base—it was cool, colder than it should be.

“This bowl was made from something found only near Ryba.”

Triska studied the bowl. Her mouth dropped open. “No. There’s no way you could find a piece of it large enough to make a bowl.”

Fergal nodded. “I suspect he used powerful magic to shape many of them into this bowl. It would have been a tricky bit of spell work.”

Juri lay a hand on her back and shifted closer. “What is it?”

“It’s black pearl,” she said, running her fingertip up the bowl. “I’ve found three of them in oysters before. I bought my house with the first one, and it was smaller than the tip of my pinky.”

Fergal nodded again. “She sold all three to me, although you could have taken them down to Coromesto and gotten ten times what I paid.”

“I know, but I wanted you to have them.” She glanced at Juri. “An eaglewalker my father is going into business with told me the same thing. He wants to partner with me when I find pearls and sell them for a much larger profit.”

Juri growled, but it was so low she was probably the only one who heard it. Had Emil made it to Ryba? Was he trying to search for her up there, too? She’d barely given him a thought since Juri showed up.

Juri crossed his arms. “Why is pearl valuable for magicwielders? I sell gems when I find them in caves, but magicwielders have no particular interest in them.”

Fergal patted the bowl. “Even a small black pearl can absorb huge amounts of magic. So, a magicwielder can store it up for when they need it. Or they can use a pearl to magnify their magic. This bowl is powerful.”

Koschei whipped the cloak of his robe around himself. “You are quite wrong as usual, magicwielder. This bowl isn’t made of black pearl. It’s made of black nacre. What the entire vanishing isle is made of. Your oysters,” he waved his hand at Triska, “must pick up a particle of sand from the vanishing isle occasionally and spin it into a pearl. Nacre is much stronger.”

Juri whirled from the table and paced across the room. “Why won’t this powerful bowl work in the underworld? Or the other bowl? Either one would be fine. As long as we can scry for a way out of here.”

Fergal pointed at the other bowl—the pewter one. “I think this one won’t work when it is nearby its master.” He pushed it aside and drew the nacre bowl forward. “I know how to wake this one up. It will demand something from the one who wants to use it. Something big. A sacrifice.”

Triska froze. “What do you mean? Will it demand … death?”

Fergal drew in a long breath. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll do it.” Koschei laid his hand on the rim. “I have nothing left to lose, and it can’t kill me.”

“You may be stripped of all your magic again,” Fergal said.

Koschei closed his eyes, and his palm glowed purple. “I lost it before, and I survived.” The bowl crackled, black sparks spraying out of it over the table. Koschei yelped and snatched his hand away.

“Rejection!” Fergal said. “Interesting.” He smiled slightly. “Can’t imagine you’ve felt that too often before.”

Koschei glowered and shook his hand out. “The bowl shouldn’t be picking and choosing. It’s a bowl.”

Fergal waggled his fingers, closed his eyes, and put his hand in the bowl. Another shower of sparks. He snatched his hand back and cradled it to his chest.

Koschei sneered. “Rejection. Can’t imagine you’ve felt that too often, either.”