Arcturus awoke in darkness. For agonizing seconds, he thought that the attack had blinded him. It was only the thin sliver of light at the end of the room that told him otherwise.

The air was stale and heavy, as if it had not been disturbed for some time. The stone underneath him was chilled, devoid of any warmth of comfort. Pain twinged through his skull with every turn of his head, and a tentative feel of his temple revealed a lump the size of a goose egg.

He lay in the gloom, bracing himself to stand and explore his confines. Perhaps if he crawled to the light, he could call for help. He tried to speak, but all that left his throat was a raw croak. A thirst he had never known was raging inside of him, leaving his swollen tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth like a slab of salt pork.

Footsteps, loud and purposeful, echoed from the source of light. The door—

for that is what it was— swung open, blinding him with the glow of a torch. He blinked in the new light, shading his eyes with a hand.

"Awake already are you?" a cold voice snapped, lifting the flame higher.

Arcturus squinted, revealing brass buttons on black cloth; the uniform of a Pinkerton. The man had a handsome face, but his eyes were cruel and empty of empathy. He approached Arcturus and crouched down to examine him.

Arcturus spied a tankard of water in the man's hand and snatched it, all sense of decorum forgotten. He took deep, pulsing gulps, filling his belly until the liquid sloshed inside of him like a half empty gourd. The man chuckled and lifted him to his feet, his grip like a vice on Arcturus's shoulder

"Thank you for the water," Arcturus gasped, dizzied from standing so suddenly.

"It wasn't for drinking. It was for throwing over you to rouse your lazy carcass. Two days you've been in and out of consciousness. That noble must have hit you something fierce." The Pinkerton laughed again, then pulled Arcturus out of the cell and down a narrow corridor.

"Where are we going?" Arcturus slurred, his gorge rising as a dizzy nausea overcame him.

Forks of pain spread through his brain with every jolt as if his skull was full of lightning. He felt the demon on the very edge of his consciousness, awash with confusion and terror. Arcturus preferred it in his own mind. Pain he was used to, for his master would knock him about when the mood took him. It was fear he could not abide, though he was getting flashes of his own as the Pinkerton ignored his question, dragging him up some stairs.

The stairs opened up into a small hallway with a set of double doors at the end carved from dark oak and stamped with the insignia of a noble house. They spoke of wealth and power, the old kind that was passed from generation to generation. Paintings lined the walls: portraits of old men with beady eyes that seemed to follow him as they passed.

"You're to go in alone. Be quick about it. It doesn't do to keep a king waiting," the Pinkerton snapped, then grinned at the shock on Arcturus's face. "That's right, boy. You're in that much trouble."

He shoved Arcturus through the doors, then slammed them shut behind him.

Arcturus stumbled and collapsed to the floor, meeting the soft down of a bearskin rug. Bookshelves lined the walls, broken only by the door behind him and a crackling hearth in front. It was uncomfortably hot in the room, as if a sick man was being purged in a sweat lodge.

There were two armchairs and a stool by the fireplace. The young noble was in the smaller seat, eyeing Arcturus with trepidation. Behind him sat two middle-aged men, both with silver dusting their black hair at the temples. One appeared as the portraits did, his eyes beady with a hooked nose. He bore some resemblance to the young noble, and Arcturus realized that he was his father.

The other wore a circlet around his head and a scowl, twisting an otherwise handsome face into savage expression. He could only be King Alfric, ruler of Hominum. The three wore expensive clothing, all velvet, silk, and silver lacing.

"Tell us exactly as it happened, Charles," King Alfric growled, his voice low and angry. "Leave nothing out."

"I told you already. I left the summoning scroll and leather in my panniers and bedded down in a filthy inn just outside Boreas. I woke up to a great racket from outside, so I went to investigate. Next thing I see is this ... hoodlum ... petting my demon!" Charles pointed a wavering finger at Arcturus, spitting as he spoke. "I knocked him out with my blackjack and got the innkeeper to fetch the Pinkertons while I trapped the beast in the stable. It's not me you should be asking questions of. Ask the delinquent."

"You will speak to your king with respect!" the father bellowed, leaping to his feet and slapping Charles across the face. He lowered his head and bowed to the king, who waved a languorous hand in acceptance.

"Calm yourself, Royce. We have more important things to worry about than petty niceties." The king turned to Arcturus and gave him a forced smile, trying to put him at ease. It had the opposite effect.

"Listen carefully, stable boy. You are the only witness to the theft of Lord Faversham's demon ... or should I say, his son's demon. The scroll and leather Charles mentioned are a way of transferring a demon from one noble to another, usually a parent to a child. Now, I want you to think very carefully. Who was it who took the items from the bag and summoned the demon in the stable? Did you see an insignia on their clothing, or perhaps a distinctive color?"

King Alfric turned back to Lord Faversham before Arcturus could answer, which was just as well. His mind was still reeling.

"Lord Lovett has been blessed with four adept children, rather than the usual firstborn. His youngest daughter is joining Vocans Academy this year, just like Charles. Providing a fourth demon for her would be difficult, especially for a weak summoner like him. You don't think ...?"

"My King, he would not dare. The Lovetts are rulers of Calgary, a poor fiefdom by all accounts. It is nothing more than a few farms and rivers. It would be too great a risk for him. If he was caught, my bodyguard would storm Calgary and take back what is ours, and more besides. With your permission, of course." Lord Faversham inclined his head respectfully.

"Of course." Alfric nodded, his eyes settling on Arcturus once again.

"Who was it then?" Charles asked, his voice low and threatening, the imprint of his father's hand blazing red across his face. "Who stole my demon from me?"

Arcturus was struck dumb, unable to answer. Lying seemed the best option. Blame it on a mysterious figure, some faceless noble who came in the dead of night. The question was, would they let him live, in light of what he knew? And even if they did, what then? Back to the workhouse, to starve with the other children that nobody loved.

Perhaps it would be better to roll the dice, see what the truth would bring. A commoner being able to summon a demon was unheard of – it could turn his life upside down. But when you're at the bottom of the pile, it always makes sense to reshuffle the deck.

"It was me," he announced, his voice as confident as he could make it. "I summoned the demon. I can feel it now."

There was a pause, then a cackle as the king and Lord Faversham burst into laughter. Even Charles snorted, though the malice never left his eyes. Arcturus sat in silence, setting his jaw.

The king held up his hand, cutting the laughter short. His smile narrowed to a pursed slit.

"Charles, come here." He beckoned the young noble over, then leaned in and whispered in his ear. Charles hesitated, then strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The king steepled his fingers, levelling his gaze at Arcturus. His grey eyes revealed nothing, but Lord Faversham drummed his fingers on the armrest, betraying a sudden nervousness. Despite the heat, Arcturus shuddered under the king's scrutiny.

"You're playing a dangerous game here," Lord Faversham said, narrowing his eyes at Arcturus. "Did they pay you to feed us this cock and bull story? Because if you think for one moment that you'll be able to lie and leave this castle alive, you are much mistaken."

"It's true," Arcturus replied, cursing the quaver in his voice. "I read the scroll aloud and the demon appeared."

"Commoners cannot summon demons," the king snapped, impatience getting the better of him. "The gift is passed down in the blood, always for the first born and sometimes for the rest. The noble houses have been the only summoners in Hominum for two thousand years. Now, I will give you one more chance. If you tell me the truth and identify the thief, I will give you four hundred shillings and transport to Corcillum. You can't say fairer than that."

But Arcturus could feel something new, grating on him like nails on a chalkboard. It was pain, distant but fierce, emanating from the thread that held him to the demon. A fresh throb made him fall to his knees, clutching at his skull. The dual sensation of this fresh pain and that of his injuries was almost too much to bear.

"You're hurting it!" he cried, burying his head in the fur of the bearskin rug.

"When will you end this farce?" Lord Faversham growled, kicking at Arcturus with his foot. But the king held up a bony finger, before pointing it at the entrance to the library.

"As we speak, your son is whipping the demon downstairs as I instructed him. I was hoping to merely cause the thief some discomfort. Instead, it seems we have revealed him." The king smiled as Arcturus whimpered in agony.

He was barely able to comprehend the words, fresh waves of pain robbing him of all sense.

"Who are you, boy?" Lord Faversham growled, lifting Arcturus from the floor by the collar and holding him up in the air. "Your stableboy disguise has been found out, tell us which house you belong to now and perhaps your punishment will be less severe. Are you a Sinclair? A Fitzroy?"

"No ... house ..." Arcturus choked.

"Put him down, Royce," the king ordered, tearing Arcturus from Lord Faversham's grasp before his command could be obeyed. "This boy is no impostor. Can you not tell by his accent, his demeanor? His body odor alone reeks of a common upbringing."

"What are you saying?" Lord Faversham asked, breathing heavily. "That this boy is telling the truth?"

"I am saying," the king murmured, tapping his chin with a long finger, "that this boy is ... something new."

*************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading Chapter 2! What will happen to Arcturus now?!

Did you know that ORIGINS continues with a full novel called THE OUTCAST? You can read ALL of Arcturus's story in May, 2018, coming to a store near you or available online in all the usual places! 

The sequel to this book, THE NOVICE, is out RIGHT NOW all over the world! You can pick one up in most bookstores including Barnes and Noble and Waterstones. It's also available online on Amazon, Kindle, iBooks, Kobo, Nook and Google Play, to name but a few!