by Guy Antibes
“Not carrying all your luggage, you can’t,” Whit said. “I saw how many bags you loaded.”
“I have to be prepared for anything,” the angel said defensively.
“Then be prepared for a turn once we get to the crossroads on the north side of town.”
“Are we heading through Northlake?” Argien said. “I’ve had enough of that place.
“Not on our list,” Whit said. “We are going to a pixie kingdom.”
“Perisia or Coria?”
“The southern version. There are some parts waiting to be retrieved, two of which are critical to the Eye’s operation, we think. No one knows except for Gambol, Razz, you, and me.”
Argien laughed. “Knowing our fellow travelers, no one will notice when Razz makes the turn except for us,” the angel said looking up ahead at the first coach.
Whit followed his gaze and made a note not to drive in the second position again as he wiped dust from his face.
“What do you know about Perisia?” Whit asked.
Argien shrugged. “You would have a better understanding with those political geography classes you’ve been taking. All I know is that it is a kingdom of pixies, closed to settlement by other folk, just like Merinda is closed to anyone but angels. You could visit, but you couldn’t stay.”
“Yetti could stay in Perisia,” Whit said.
“She could, but I don’t see her leaving Herringbone on anything but a temporary basis,” Argien said. “Where are the artifacts?”
“Three of them were once kept in a library dedicated to the ancients, so our paperwork says. The other has a link to the saints, but the documentation says that is a rumor. The same as most of the artifacts, the information is so old that the components could easily have been moved.”
Argien laughed. “Who believes in the saints anymore? Perhaps that means it is in an old church?”
Whit nodded. “That’s what Torius Pott seemed to think. I’m hoping we roll into Garri and negotiate borrowing or buying the components and roll back to Herringbone. That would get us five parts to claim. A decent start.”
“For some that would be enough,” Argien said.
“I don’t know what enough will be. We have competition and a lot of parts to collect to get a working version.”
Argien nodded. “And who knows what our rival’s real plan is since it is a copy of ours, and we’ve already moved off that strategy.”
“They will know soon enough. The ace up their sleeve is Deechie. I’m sure he left a message for them, but he didn’t know we were changing direction.”
Argien laughed. “They are liable to do anything. The College of Magic team is behaving like little brats, with all the cheating.”
“I don’t care how they act as long as we can be left alone as much as possible,” Whit said as he spotted the crossroads and followed Razz turning to their left, westward toward Festor.
In a few miles, Razz pulled to the side of the road ahead. Deechie disembarked and was yelling at him when Whit stopped his carriage and walked up to the verbal altercation.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” Whit said as he dismounted and joined the pair facing off against each other.
Razz smirked. “He wants us to get back on the road to Tarash. He says it isn’t fair to change directions.”
“It isn’t,” Deechie said, looking like indignity filled him.
“To whom?” Whit asked.
“To the competition,” Deechie said.
“And what if an expedition heads in a different direction than what they planned? From reading about other expeditions, their movements are never tracked,” Whit said. “You are claiming that our rivals determine our direction?”
“I’m the advisor. I say we have to turn around,” Deechie said, ignoring Whit’s comment.
Gambol finally got out. “Advisors don’t lead the expeditions, Greeb,” Gambol said. “You are advising Whit that he should consider following his original route, right?”
“I am,” Deechie said, folding his arms.
“I have taken it under advisement. What do the rest of you think? I’m of the opinion that Greeb Deechie will leave messages for the other team all along the way, anyway. Why help them to steal our idea?”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing,” Deechie said.
“Yes, you would. It has already happened.” Razz said. “I had a quick word with the innkeeper when I settled our bill. You left a message for Paros Porch, who, I understand, is the advisor for the College of Magic team seeking parts of the Eye.”
“How did you know that?” Deechie said accusingly.
“It isn’t a secret, except in your mind,” Razz said.
Deechie took a step forward but looked around and stopped. “Porch is a friend,” Deechie said.
“No, he’s not,” Gambol said. “I know Paros better than you do. He considers himself an associate of yours. But a friend, no.”
Deechie turned red. “You can’t keep me from corresponding with the college. I’m bound to do that.”
“Send all the communications to Herringbone that you wish,” Whit said. “Just don’t directly communicate with the competing team.”
“I’ll make you all pay,” Deechie said.
“I’m prepared to pay,” Whit said. “I will find the parts on my own with no expedition credit if I have to. I’d rather not, since we all would enjoy the prestige winning the expeditions would give us.”
“And the prizes,” Fistian said.
“And the prizes too,” Whit said. “We don’t want you to spoil our fun or our opportunity.”
“And we can make that come at a cost,” Zarl said, cracking his knuckles.
Deechie flinched when the ogre made his threat.
“I’ll go along with you for now,” Deechie said, climbing back into his carriage.
Razz grinned and gave everyone a thumbs up. Gambol patted Whit on the back. “We won this time,” he said softly.
Whit nodded and returned to his carriage.
“Where are we going?” Yetti asked.
“Everyone will know tonight,” Whit said. “Razz has charted a new course for us.
~
Deechie sat by himself during lunch, but Fistian took a table next to his and plucked a message he was about to give the human innkeeper at the Festorian inn. They were four nights away from Perisia.
Fistian gave the message to Gambol, who quickly read it and handed it to Whit.
Deechie walked up and took it from Whit’s hand. “Give that to me,” the human said.
Whit only saw that it was addressed to the dean of the magic college.
“Certainly. We have to protect ourselves, Deechie,” Whit said. “Be prepared for more indignities.”
Deechie grunted and left the common room. Fistian followed him all the way to the carriage. The drivers switched, and Whit looked at Deechie from across the carriage. Yetti had joined them.
Deechie didn’t talk to Whit the entire afternoon. Razz took them to a pleasant roadside inn just before dinner, where they all disembarked.
“You are going to tell us where we are going?” Deechie asked.
“I will. It will be a test for you. Let’s see if you can keep your mouth shut unless you have something constructive to say. We can always drop you off here, and I’d be happy to pay for a return coach to Herringbone.”
Deechie gnashed his teeth, but he said nothing more. Dinner was still an exciting meal. No one was tired from the day-long ride and few of them had been to Festor before. It was an agricultural paradise. There were green fields, orchards, and in the hillier areas that they passed, large flocks of sheep.
Whit sat at the head of a table for eight that the innkeeper had put together in the dining room.
“We are going to Garri in Perisia,” Whit announced to the group. “There are multiple artifacts rumored to be in possession of the pixie king.”
“Can I see my relation? He is an uncle removed a time or two,” Yetti said. “He knows Per
isia well and lived there for most of his life after he left Coria.”
“Would he be useful in dealing with the king?” Gambol asked.
Yetti nodded. “He was high in the government but retired when the new king rose to the throne. I think he’s on the way, if we continue south. His name is Piesson Nistia.”
“I don’t know if he’ll be that helpful,” Deechie said.
“I want to meet him, anyway,” Yetti said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to make it a demand,” she said. “If I can’t visit my uncle, I’ll leave the quest. I’m not affiliated with the university, anyway.” She folded her arms and gave Deechie a pouty frown.
Whit restrained a smile. Yetti’s performance was spot on, and he never knew about the relation.
“Perhaps he can give us all a course in pixie manners. Are they different in Garri than they would be in Coria where you are from?”
Yetti shrugged. “I imagine most things are the same. Pixies are pixies, but I’m not sure what differences there would be.”
Whit didn’t know if she was being coy or honest. It didn’t matter. From what he learned, every country had their own customs and there would be differences. He found himself looking forward to meeting Piesson Nistia.
After dinner, Yetti cornered Whit in a hallway.
“To my room,” she said.
Whit’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t think that’s—”
“Don’t be silly. I brought an assignment list that Canis Bache gave me. It’s time we compared notes.”
“I’ll get my letter,” Whit said.
He knocked on Yetti’s door, and the pixie let him in.
Whit hadn’t looked at the letter that Canis had given him, but now he didn’t have a choice. The names were by country. For Festor, there were three names. One of them was Piesson Nistia. It said he was a source, but Yetti only knew of him as a distant relation.
“What is a source?” Whit asked.
“He can give us information. He really is a relation, and that is probably why Canis thought we could use him to get information. There is only one name in Perisia,” Yetti said. “Her name is Ritta Misennia.” She frowned. “It’s a female pixie.”
“I guessed,” Whit said.
Yetti frowned. “I don’t trust many pixie women. It is a problem I have.”
Whit looked at the woman’s name. “It says she is an initial contact.”
Yetti nodded. “We introduce ourselves as agents of Ayce and tell her that others will meet her.”
“She doesn’t even know who we are?” Whit asked.
“No one on the list does, as far as I know, other than my uncle a few times removed. Some are resources, and some are people we just contact and tell them who we are. That is what Canis told me.”
Whit snorted. “At least he told you that. Piesson will be friendly?”
“We won’t know until we meet him, I suppose. This is my first time in the field, like you.”
Whit pressed his lips together before speaking. “I’ve been sent on little testing missions before. Canis did something for me, and he wanted me to pay him back in services. Just like this.”
“Really?” Yetti said, sounding impressed, but Whit wasn’t sure that she was. “I’ll do Piesson, and you can meet Ritta.”
“I can do that. I thought I’d end up contacting them all, anyway. I appreciate anything we can split up.”
Yetti nodded. “We’ve talked enough.”
Whit went back to his room to find Gambol pounding on his door.
“What’s the matter?”
“Trouble. Fistian and Razz went out to show Zarl a good time. Argien went with them, but during the fight—”
“Fight? What fight?” Whit asked.
Gambol blushed. “You know that Fistian has a can get riled up and start fights in pubs. Razz, Zarl, and Fistian were arrested. Argien got away, but he stayed around to see the three of them hauled off to the town’s jail.”
“Do they have their papers?” Whit asked.
“How should I know?” Gambol asked.
“Is Argien downstairs?”
Gambol nodded. “The first thing we should do is head to the jail and see what the situation is. If we need to return to get anything, we can do it then.”
“Have you had to get Fistian out of jail before?” Whit asked.
Gambol reddened. “A few times. He’s never killed anyone.”
Whit lost his breath for a second. “And he has this time?”
“Argien said there are bumps and bruises.”
Whit sighed. “This is a learning experience for me. Lead on, my experienced mentor.”
“I’m a mentor now?”
Whit nodded. “You would be my advisor, but Deechie stole that spot. You aren’t my professor on the expedition, so will mentor work?”
“We’ll see how well I work in a foreign country.”
Argien waited for them downstairs.
“Anyone killed?” Whit asked before anyone said a word.
“No,” Argien said. “I am by no means a fighter and Razz was insistent that no one use any magic.”
“He has had to manage drivers traveling in all the countries. That makes him the one with the most sense,” Gambol said. “Let’s go. Yetti and Deechie can slumber while we work.”
It took them half an hour to find the jail, since it was on the opposite side of town from their inn. The three of them walked into the front office.
“Took your time!” Fistian said, his words a little slurred from the drink or from a swollen face.
Whit looked toward the back of the station. The three incarcerated team members now stood, looking at them like the jailbirds they were.
“You are with the foreigners?” the gnome constable said. He wore normal clothes but had a dark blue cap and a badge on his shirt.
“We are. Did they get a bit unruly? I don’t see the other fighters in the jail,” Gambol said.
“I spanked them on their little behinds and sent them on home,” the constable said. “Luckily everyone got as good as they gave, except maybe that ogre, but he was more polite than the others.”
Someone was able to get a punch high enough to blacken Zarl’s eye, Whit observed. Is there a fine?”
“Two florins each plus breakfast, another florin, and overnight in the cell. You’ll be allowed to leave the town as early as you want. They said you are travelers from the University of Herringbone.”
“We are. I’m learning the perils of traveling with a large group.”
“Indeed, you are. Nine florins, and I’ll tuck these babes in for the night,” the constable said.
Zarl might be strong enough to break out of the cell, and the three of them could easily overpower a single guard. Whit was glad the event was as benign as it was. He hated wasting the rooms at the inn, but maybe it was worth it if the trio didn’t get into any more fights.
Deechie rushed into the room and spelled the constable, pushing him all the way to the ceiling. “Where are the keys?” he asked the constable.
“Put him down!” Gambol said. “We just negotiated an acceptable punishment for our friends, then you can come in here and try to free them! Go back to the inn.”
“Why shouldn’t we break them out?” Deechie said, his eyes stuck to the constable flailing on the ceiling. “He should be afraid of us.”
“No,” Whit said. “Put him down.”
“I’m your advisor. How are you going to get those three released?”
“We were going to pick them up in the morning. Put him down,” Whit repeated.
Deechie lowered the constable letting him drop the last three feet. Argien stepped forward and used his magic to soften the man’s landing.
“And that puts you in jail for a week. You can’t come in here and manhandle me.” The constable rummaged around in his drawer and pointed a wand at Deechie. “Now you can’t cause any damage.”
Deechie’s face turned purple with rage, but his magic wasn’t working any longer, as
much as he tried.
“If you help me put him in jail, I will let our previous agreement stand.”
Argien and Whit grabbed Deechie, who struggled with them all the way to the empty cell. “You can’t do this to me! I’m a professor at the College of Magic at Herringbone!”
“You are an instructor. I’m a professor, and that doesn’t get anyone a pass from the law,” Gambol said. “We will tell you tomorrow what we’ve decided to do.”
Whit laid ten florins on the constable’s desk. “Breakfast for Greeb Deechie,” Whit said. “See you all tomorrow morning, early.” He waved at them as he followed Gambol and Argien out the door. It wasn’t hard to ignore Deechie’s screeching, not hard at all.
Chapter Four
~
“D
id I miss anything last night?” a bleary-eyed Yetti said at breakfast. “Is someone going to fetch half our group?” She yawned.
Whit, Argien, and Gambol all smiled. “Our boys are in the local jail,” Gambol said. “We can pick up Zarl, Fistian, and Razz this morning, but I don’t think Deechie will be let out for a week if the constable has anything to say.”
“Deechie? He didn’t go drinking.” Yetti said.
Argien relished telling Yetti the entire story with some fighting details unmentioned the previous evening.
“What will you do with Deechie?” Yetti said. “We ought to leave him.”
“Great minds think alike,” Gambol said, grinning. “We can leave a note telling him we went to Garri, and he can catch up to us there.” He turned to Whit. “How does that sound, leader?”
“Perfectly fine, advisor,” Whit said. “You’ve been temporarily promoted.”
They loaded up the carriages and drove to the jail. A different constable read a note left by the one with the night shift. “You can take three, but the human stays until next Fiveday. Assaulting a constable is a charge that can land someone in jail for a month, but listening to the human’s incessant whining, I can only put up with it for ten days, the minimum sentence.”
Whit suppressed a smile. He laid out nine florins on the desk. “His breakfasts are on us.” Whit sauntered back to Deechie’s cell while the constable let Fistian, Razz, and Zarl out of the cell.