by Jaxon Reed
“You ain’ young.”
“That’s right. I’m a wizard. And wizards grow to be very old. Our stones slow down the aging process.”
The little dwarf’s eyes grew round with wonder. He said, “Are ye evil, like ol’ Lok?”
Greystone chuckled again. He said, “Oh, no. Fortunately most wizards are good, not evil. They mean no harm. Mostly they wander off by themselves to learn as much as they can about their specialties, those particular types of magic in which they excel.”
“Wha’s yer special-ality?”
“Well, I used to think I was pretty good at creating facsimiles of people, one of only two or three persons particularly gifted in that area. But I recently discovered our newest wizard is far better at that than anyone else. She created an entire cathedral full of facsimiles on the spot. A great many remarkably accurate ones. Then she created one of herself. I don’t think that’s ever been done before. Not to my knowledge. So, I suppose I’m not as good at facsimile creation as I once thought. No, I would now say my specialty involves folding spaces.”
“Wha’s tha’?”
“I can make things look bigger, or different than they are. I can fold spaces and make them useful for other things.”
“Show me! I wanna see!”
Emboldened, the little dwarf came up to his table. Six or seven other children crept closer as well.
Finding himself facing audience expectations, Greystone thought for a moment before inspiration struck. He pulled from his robe several sheets of paper, laying them flat on the table.
“Now watch carefully. I will demonstrate how to take a square and turn it into something else. Even you can do this. You, too. And you, and you . . .”
When the princes arrived with their escort, they found the Tin Hammer overrun by children with paper hats, paper birds with flapping wings, paper bowls and boats and cups and horns, and darts streaking through the air.
Greystone spied the brothers and handed his last creation over.
He said in a loud voice, “Alright, now go and show your friends what you’ve learned. Here’s some paper to take with you.”
After the last child took a bundle of paper (privately Dudge wondered where it all came from, the wizard seemed to have an infinite supply tucked away in his robe somewhere), Greystone stood and made a formal half bow to the dwarves.
“Prince Dudge, how pleasant to see you again. And you must be Crown Prince Pudge. I fought beside your father at the Battle of Hest.”
Pudge’s beard drooped and his face reddened.
Dudge glanced at him and said, “Whassa matter wi’ you?”
“Nothin’. Jus’ nay used t’ mee’in’ yumans older ’n me. Nay used t’ mee’in’ yumans atoll, truth be ken.”
“Well, that’s quite alright,” Greystone said. “You’ll find wizards to be quite exceptional from other humans. Now, if I could enjoin you two to have a seat, I’d like to hear all about Lok’s tomb and what you’ve learned so far.”
-+-
Bartimo poured over the ledger carefully, jotting notes down on a separate sheet of paper as he progressed through the figures. The Finero holdings were truly vast, and he was just beginning to appreciate the scope of ventures funded by the family. Money rolled in from multiple lucrative shops and vendor stalls that had been originally financed by the deceased couple, and a small fleet of merchant vessels also provided regular infusions of gold each time they called at port.
A portion was deducted for monthly household expenses, and ten percent went to the priests, but most of the remainder seemed to be regularly turned around and placed back into new ventures. This meant the main fortune grew steadily over time, and had apparently been doing so for years.
Bartimo sat in the manor’s library, which doubled as the family office. All the ledgers and records from various ventures were stored on one shelf near a large table. Wax and quill pens, ink, parchment and cheaper paper for scrip were all within arm’s reach. Ample light flowed into the room from large airy windows. Oil lamps stood ready, mounted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling, to provide light at night.
He looked across the table at Phanissa, reading one of Edwardeo’s plays. Seated next to her, Hassetta worked on needlepoint. The sting of the deaths still lingered, but today Bartimo felt it was time to try and make sense of where the family money came from and where it usually went each month.
He cleared his throat and said, “Your parents were very wise with the use of their resources. It looks like maybe eight out of ten ventures they funded led to profits. But the interesting thing is the ongoing income from some of these vendors. The arrangements they made with Finero led to steady gold over the years.”
Phanissa smiled and said, “Yes, Mom and Dad would often discuss things before agreeing to fund a new vendor. Mom in particular had a good eye for what might be successful in Market Square. Some of those merchants were able to move from stalls in the open to their own shops in the Trade District because of the resources Mom and Dad gave them. They paid us back over time and we receive a share of the profits.”
“I can see that. Monthly payments flow in from a wide variety of sellers. Very impressive. It allows for steady income instead of occasional bursts from more risky ventures. I never thought of that. I always figured the major families funded ventures and lived off the profits. But your parents made several arrangements like this, living instead off the steady income then taking some of the profits to speculate at the Hall of Commerce. The successful ventures there added to the family fortune. The unsuccessful ones were not at all devastating, it just meant the money did not grow as much those months.”
Phanissa shrugged. She said, “I never looked at the books. All I know is they discussed things, and placed their bets, so to speak. I wish Dad was here to go through it with you. I’m sure he planned to sit down with you at some point in the future before they . . . But yes, they were very successful for many years.”
“It wasn’t always that way,” Hassetta said, interrupting their conversation.
Bartimo and Phanissa looked at her. She glanced up from her needlework and smiled.
“Your father made a few thoughtless ‘bets’ early in their marriage. Lost a fair bit of gold. They had a nasty argument one night— this was before you were born, dear— and after that they talked about each venture, carefully discussing it first. Your mother had her say, and he had his say, and usually if there was something wrong with the idea, one or the other could suss it out. But if they both liked it and agreed on it, then they would fund it.
“Granted, they still made mistakes. Sometimes when you hear a pitch at the Hall of Commerce you have very little time to discuss it. But the mistakes they made were made together. And the successes they had were shared, too. It’s a good example for you two to follow, methinks.”
She resumed her needlework and Bartimo and Phanissa shared a glance.
He smiled and said, “I like the sound of that.”
They turned when someone knocked at the library door. It opened and one of the maids stuck her head in.
“Begging your pardon Master, Mistress. There’s someone to see you. She’s dressed all in black and claims to be a wizard!”
Bartimo said, “What do you mean, ‘all in black?’”
“Well, it’s leather, and rather tight and form-fitting, if you know what I mean, Master. I’ve never seen the like before. And a woman wizard? Ain’t never heard of that, neither. She’s a fright, Master, that’s for sure!”
“She’s young? Brown skin? Long black hair?”
“Aye, Master. That’s the one.”
“Show her in.”
“At once, Master.”
When the door closed, Phanissa said, “You know her? A black-clad wizard? Could she have had anything to do with my parents’ deaths, you think?”
Bartimo shook his head. “Yes, I know who she is. No, I don’t think she had anything to do with the murders, although she’s probably heard about it.”
�
��You know her? How do you know her?” A trace of jealousy crossed into Phanissa’s tone.
Bartimo ignored it and said, “If I’m not mistaken, this is the battlemaiden who saved the day at Greystone Village. We could use her help.”
“What kind of venture did you and your sister go on? I thought you were just selling beer.”
Before he could answer the door opened again and the maid said, “If it pleases you, Master, here is the Wizard Darkstone.”
A woman walked in indeed wearing form-fitting black leather armor up to her neck. She glanced at the three occupants in the room and seemed to understand everything about them all at once. Bartimo felt struck by how confident the young woman looked. No one within miles could ever hope to best her in combat, certainly no one within this room. She looked invulnerable.
An aura of power seemed to ripple off her body. He thought she might actually be glowing in a dark, black-purple sort of way. It was hard to tell because her leather armor seemed to absorb all the light around her.
Bartimo stood, feeling suddenly awkward even though he was the one receiving a visitor. He said, “Uh, welcome.”
Phanissa was less overwhelmed. She remained seated and said, “I thought Wizard Darkstone was a villain.”
“He was,” Darkstone said. She gave Phanissa a cool look that spoke volumes in its silence.
Finally, Phanissa turned her eyes away and said, “I see.”
Without further preamble, the wizard said, “I’ve come to learn more about the spell that took the lives of your parents. Is someone present in this house who witnessed the event?”
“We were, ah, indisposed when it occurred,” Bartimo said, his face flushing.
Hassetta said, “I saw it.”
All eyes turned to Phanissa’s nanny. The older woman said, “I was sitting at the family table during the reception, up front and waiting for things to start. I saw it all happen, right there. What do you wish to know?”
“With your permission,” Darkstone said, “I’d like to place a spell on you so that I can see what you witnessed. It’s a scrying window for your memories.”
The older woman set her needlework down on the table and scooted her chair back.
“Very well. Do what you must.”
“You might wish to leave for a moment,” Darkstone said to Phanissa. “I’m afraid this will appear rather traumatic.”
Phanissa shook her head. She said, “No. I want to see it.”
Darkstone nodded and walked around the table to draw near to Hassetta. Her gloves receded, leaving her fingers bare. She placed one hand lightly on top of Hassetta’s head and concentrated for a moment, summoning the spell.
At first, nothing happened. Just when Bartimo opened his mouth to say something, a large circle appeared floating above the table. They could hear the friendly buzz of hundreds of people talking, and the view shifted. Everything came into sharper focus. Wedding guests were seated at tables under the great domed pavilion, chatting amiably.
The scene shifted again, as Hassetta’s memory turned to the platform, where a worried Finero shaded his eyes to search the entrance, obviously looking for the newlyweds and fretting about their delay.
They couldn’t hear the conversation, as the older couple spoke too softly for Hassetta to hear over the ambient noise around her. But there was no mistaking the love in Ermina’s eyes as she wrapped her arm in Finero’s and took him to stand on the carpeted spot where the sun would shine down and its refracted light would appear at noon.
They were distracted by a sudden black smoky blot in the air. It disappeared just as quickly. As the light split into different colors, a dark magical cloud appeared, filling the ceiling and descending on the couple. They waved their hands as if trying to clear away foul odors. They doubled over coughing and they went down to their knees, grabbing their necks. Then the cloud covered them completely.
The view shifted as Hassetta and others stood up in alarm. Someone rushed up on the dais to help, and Hassetta moved forward too. But when the cloud lifted, Finero and Ermina were dead.
Darkstone made a motion with her other hand, and the scene started over again. She lifted a finger when the dark blur first appeared, made a twirling motion and it filled the scrying window. Up close it looked like an owl made of thin black smoke.
“What is that?” Phanissa said.
“That is a chronosigil,” Darkstone said. “More important is what it means, and what it means is whoever killed your parents set the spell to occur at that particular time and place. Obviously, the killer expected you two to be on the stage instead of your parents.”
“That’s pretty much what the constables concluded,” Bartimo said.
“Have they figured out who did it?”
“Everyone suspects it’s a lady named Leddia, the widow of Palento and head of his family. I rejected an offer of marriage to her daughter in favor of Phanissa. We don’t know anything for certain, mind you, but Leddia made loud and public accusations against me. She said I’d rue the day and so forth. She sailed before the wedding, so no one has been able to question her.”
“Hm. Where was she going?”
“Her ship is headed to Coral City.”
Darkstone removed her hand from Hassetta’s head and the leather flowed back over her fingers.
She said, “Thank you for sharing your memories.”
The wizard walked toward the door, paused before opening it and turned to Phanissa.
She said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Phanissa nodded, accepting the sentiment.
Bartimo said, “Wait, where are you going?”
Darkstone said, “Coral City. I’d like to meet this Leddia, widow of Palento, and talk with her.”
Phanissa stood up. She said, “I want to go with you.”
Bartimo’s mouth dropped in surprise, but then he closed it. The look of steely determination on his wife’s face firmed his own resolve.
He said, “Yes, we both need to go. This is important to us. I realize we probably can’t help you much. The Creator knows you did far more than any of us at Greystone’s Village, and we’re just mere mortals. But that woman committed an unspeakable act of evil against us. At least, we think she did. If not, she might know who is responsible. We would like to be there when you confront her.”
Darkstone paused, considering the request.
Finally she said, “If I am right, Lady Leddia is part of something far more sinister than simply being a bitter old widow setting up death spells. And what I think she is involved in is very, very dangerous. If you accompany me I cannot guarantee your safety. Is confronting this woman something you are prepared to risk your life for?”
Bartimo and Phanissa looked at one another. He saw the grim expression on his wife’s face.
He said, “Yes. We need to be there, not waiting here passively to find out if you’re successful or not. We want to be a part of it.”
Darkstone looked at Phanissa and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Phanissa nodded, agreeing with Bartimo. She said, “That woman killed my father and my mother! We’re coming with you.”
Chapter 15
Stin’s party rode into Coral City with four steeds. Horse and the cart, manned by Stin and Bellasondra, rode in first. They were followed by the pirates and Kirt on mounts taken from the robbers. Stin paid the guards at the gate the entry toll for all of them and they proceeded toward a stable near the palace.
Stin let Plinny and Veeroy handle the sale of the extra horses at the stable. The price they received was likely not the best. But stables were always good for a quick sale, he figured. They added the silver to their purse and felt very happy with the results of the journey so far, even if the purse had to be split between them. Lord Fortune was living up to his name, as far as they were concerned.
Stin found a decent inn that would be willing to handle a couple of drunken pirates but not be too unsavory for Bellasondra.
When they were settle
d in and had a meal together in the common room, Stin said, “I’m going to the dungeon now. I’ve got to deliver this dagger and be done with this task.”
Bellasondra said, “Can’t it wait until morning? It’s almost dark.”
He shook his head and said, “I want to get this over with.”
Kirt swallowed the last bite of his food and said, “You’re coming back, right?”
“Of course I’m coming back. Why wouldn’t I be coming back?”
“You’re going into a dungeon. Last time you were in there we had a hard time finding you.”
“That dungeon has never been able to hold me, even when I was your age. I’ll be back.”
He stood up then bent to kiss Bellasondra. He gave a final wave to Plinny, Veeroy, and Kirt, and walked out the door.
“He didn’t say when he’d come back,” Kirt grumbled.
The sun dropped below the rooftops as Stin made his way up the hill toward the castle. The final rays caught the red-orange coral inlayed in the stonework. He smiled looking up at the view, preferring to see the castle from the outside.
He approached one of the side gates in the wall along the street that the guards used for easy access to the dungeon.
The two guards manning the gate watched everybody coming and going. Their red and orange leather armor looked like a dim reflection of the palace walls above and behind them. They saw Stin as he rounded the corner, and maintained eye contact with him when it became apparent he meant to approach the gate.
They came to attention, resting hands on sword hilts and raising eyebrows when he drew close.
Stin said, “I’m here to see Syphon.”
One of them smirked and said, “It’s a little late for visitors.”
“Check your instructions. I’m to be admitted any time I show. My name is Stin.”
The smirks disappeared. One of them jerked his head toward the other, who disappeared inside the gate. Stin waited patiently until the man returned.
“Let him in.”
Stin followed the guard through the gate and onto the palace grounds. He led Stin to a side entrance in the castle where another guard opened a locked door for them. They went inside, then down some steps.