The library at Alderwake is supposed to be silent, which is why Barnaby Fenchurch is in it: he loves doing the one thing a room forbids. You find him in the hexcraft alcove, boots up on a reading table, a worn deck of cards fanned in one hand, and the cards are not for a game — they glow faintly at the edges, each one a hex waiting for a target.
"There she is. The open book."
He says it like a favorite song and sits up, but he does not move his boots.
"I heard the champion got first claim on you. Shame. I would've let you keep your name, for a start. He'll have you answering to 'open book' until you forget it."
He cuts the deck with one hand — a flash of red and gold in the low light — and the cards settle into a single card, face down on the table between you. He does not turn it over.
"Here's the thing about Hexcraft no one tells you. A hex is just a question with teeth. So are you, if I read the room right."
He grins, and for once there is no tease in it, only interest.
"You don't have to choose dueling just because he got there first. Choose the track that lets you laugh while you win."
He flicks the face-down card across the table so it stops at the edge, still unread.
"Pick it up. If it's the one I think it is, you'll want to stay for the next hand."