by Guy Antibes
“Another trip to Ionna Teria?” Gambol asked. “Maybe she knows the rumors of parts that were taken to the current capital.”
Whit nodded. “That’s a good line. She can say there is another artifact that is somewhere in the city. Ionna might know likely buildings where an artifact can be hidden. Fistian can manufacture another part.”
“Nuts and bolts,” Fistian said. “I can make the bolts with a flange on top. The flange can have a hole and we can thread them all together with a wire. That would stay intact over the centuries and there is something like that, as I recall.”
“There is,” Whit said. “Those tiny parts are counted as one, and according to our documents, they are hidden in a metal box in Ipsia. They weren’t on the list we submitted to the magic college.”
“No box makes it easier,” Fistian said. “I can go back to the same blacksmith. We can make them, but they won’t be duplicates of the originals.”
“All they need to see is the same rainbow finish,” Gambol said. “That will be three parts that they will have stolen.”
“It doesn’t have to as long as they stay in Garri until they know for sure,” Whit said.
Gambol nodded. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try.”
“I also want to learn more about the Magician’s Circle in Perisia before we leave,” Whit asked.
Pin smiled grimly. “That might be a dangerous task.”
“One that you can guide me through. We don’t need to talk to any of the circle members, just enough people who have dealt with them.”
“There’s always Deechie,” Gambol said with a smirk.
“Jonny couldn’t take the filthy depths of Deechie’s mind. I think we leave him alone for now.”
“Whatever our leader says.” Argien made another smirk, but Whit knew his friend was behind him.
~
Fistian and Razz explored various quarters to throw off any followers until they returned to the blacksmith’s with the metallurgical expertise where both of them worked with the craftsmen to make nuts and bolts. Whit showed up a few days later and retrieved the nuts and bolts from an apprentice that Fistian had meet Whit at a nearby pub. Thanks to Fistian’s metalworking solutions, the identical finish was now on all the parts that Deechie would take to Herringbone.
Whit made his way to the mansion. All the while, Ritta was laying false trails about locating another artifact.
Whit met up with Ionna Teria again. This time they met in the square in front of the palace, and then the pixie led Whit to a quiet restaurant.
“I arranged for us to have this place to talk in private. My cousin showed me your latest find,” Ionna said. “I am stunned you were able to bring yourself to give it to the king. I would have been very tempted to find a way to keep it.”
“I have found all that I came for,” Whit said. “We are staying in Garri to draw off the rival team from following the artifacts to Herringbone.”
“They have already been removed from Perisia?” Ionna asked. “I hope you say yes.”
Whit nodded. “It has been days since they have been gone.” He pulled out the pouch of nuts and bolts. “We made some fake parts, and it was enough to lure our competitors into stealing them. Here is the latest offering.” He dumped some of the little parts into her hand.
Ionna laughed as she examined the bolts. “They even look ancient.”
“Two days to make, and two more days to put on some additional wear.”
She hefted them. “Do the real parts have the same finish? The finish is like the color of fish scales.”
Whit laughed. “I always thought of that as a rainbow color. Maybe the real finish is a mix of the two. The real parts aren’t quite like this. If you saw them together, you could tell the difference.”
“Are they stupid enough to fall for your trick?”
Whit shrugged. “As long as they stay in Garri, it is enough, but at this point we believe they think they have real artifacts. We are relying on them not wanting to take the chance and leave while they know we are still looking. I have another ancient artifact to show you. This one I will keep for myself.” Whit pulled out a soft case and pulled out Varetta’s wand and let Ionna hold it.
“I can feel pixie power in this, but it is still different. Where did you get it?”
Whit smiled. “I acquired it in Perisia, but the former owner gave it to me personally.”
Ionna’s eyes widened. She brought the wand close to her eyes and examined every bit of its surface. “This is so ancient. I would have to guess this is Saint Varetta’s wand? Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You aren’t. I wanted a Perisian to know what I had, and the best person for that is you.”
She caressed the wand and closed her eyes, memorizing every nook and cranny. “This is worth more than all your parts combined.”
“I’m sure there are some that disagree with you.”
Ionna shook her head. “No one who truly believes that the saints existed would. You didn’t have to show me this.”
“It comes with a price,” Whit said.
Ionna narrowed her eyes and turned to Whit. “I’ve already seen the wand.”
“Paid in advance, then,” Whit said. “All I want is a few words spread to a few colleagues about seeing the nuts and bolts.”
Ionna laughed. “I can do that, all right. My services are cheap enough. Have you tried to use this?”
Whit shook his head. “I’ve used objects as wands before, but I don’t want my first try to be in an uncontrolled circumstance.” He took the wand back and filled it with his own version of pixie power, pleased that the wand accepted his magic so readily.
“Can you feel the difference?” Whit said handing the wand back.
She stared at the wand as she grasped it. “It’s almost alive with power. I couldn’t put so much magic into that wand.”
“Do you see why I don’t want to experiment with the magic?” Whit said as he absorbed most of the magic back and placed the wand back in its case. Pin had taught him the wand technique.
“I do,” Ionna said. She grasped Whit’s wrist. “Perhaps there is something more you can do for Proller. Think of what you can do to enhance his reputation.”
“Your relative has been getting bad advice. He can’t rely on the interior minister, the prime minister, the junior ministers, or the Magician’s Circle. Who else is there with any influence?”
“You can convince Piesson Nistia to assemble the former ministers,” Ionna said. “They are more trustworthy than all those you just talked about.”
“Would King Quiller accept their counsel?” Whit asked.
“Leave that to me, just as I am assigning you to get Piesson’s help.”
Whit walked out of the tiny restaurant and squeezed into a hired carriage that took him to the mansion. He ran into Pin talking to Yetti in the hallway.
“How did it go with Ionna Teria?” Pin asked.
“She wants you,” Whit said.
Pin’s eyes widened. “Wants me?”
Whit laughed. “Ionna said she would get King Quiller to agree to an advisory group headed by you. I met your friends, so don’t tell me you couldn’t come up with a committee or something, if you haven’t already.”
Pin raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps this is something we can discuss somewhere more private. Follow me.”
Pin led him to his quarters and into a small sitting room. Ionna’s proposal only took a few moments to relate.
“Do you think she can convince the king?” Pin asked.
Whit laughed. “You should know that better than I do. At the least she is willing to spread the story about the artifact.”
“And that will keep Deechie in Garri,” Pin said.
“She is worried about her relative,” Whit said. “She knows the major political factions.”
Pin nodded. “You just told me. Send her a message that you will do what she asked. That should be safe enough.”
“I’ll have Yetti deliver th
e message,” Whit said, “or you can send a messenger. I don’t want Ionna to be too exposed.”
Pin sighed. “I’m afraid that chicken has already left the coop, but I’ll send someone. What else should we be doing?”
Whit shrugged. “I’m no mastermind. We are about finished with our delaying action, and if you are able to support the king, we will leave Perisia better than we found it.”
“Your definition of better is different than mine, but all the parties are now out in the open and that hasn’t happened since the old king died,” Pin said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to use your team as a decoy to flush out a few faction members.”
“But I’m sure ministers don’t do any kind of dirty work,” Whit said.
“We are concerned about who is more aggressive. It’s not as if the people I’m associated with haven’t been observing what has happened. We don’t want to work against the king, but he hasn’t wanted to work with us. That seems to have changed, and with King Quiller using Ionna as a go-between, we are hopeful.”
Whit pursed his lips. “I don’t want to put my people into any more danger.”
Pin looked very serious as he leaned forward. “Deechie isn’t the only one who is interested in sabotaging your group,” Pin smiled. “Excuse me, our group, since I’m still a member, I assume.”
“Until you aren’t,” Whit said. “Who else?”
“Lulu is and maybe Ornetta. I believe if Quiller begins listening to us, the younger ministers will fall in line. They became very quiet after their attempt to kill the king failed.”
“And the Magician’s Circle?” Whit asked.
“I don’t know. Deechie said he aligned with Lulu and the Magician’s Circle. Magic is so prolific among pixies that if the Magician’s Circle becomes too aggressive, they can be handled by the royal guard.”
Whit hadn’t considered that dynamic before. That meant the relative power of the Magician’s Circle varied from country to country. “What can we do about Lullan Gastian?”
Pin smiled. “That is where dangling the bait comes in.”
“That doesn’t sound very safe to me. Where are we going to be dangled?”
“You can decide. Your team has mostly been inside these walls since you returned from the old capital,” Pin said. “This time, you will have backup ahead and behind you.”
“You’ve already been thinking about this,” Whit said.
“Of course. We were hoping something would wake up Quiller to the fact that he is getting bad advice. I think meeting Ritta Misennia was especially effective. She is a very forthright pixie,” Pin said. “Think of someplace you’d like to go. If Deechie thinks you don’t have the parts, then you can go looking for more.”
“We haven’t been southeast,” Whit said. “Is there a likely site in that direction?”
Pin closed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “I know of an ancient ruin, but it was an old manor, nothing particularly noteworthy except for its age.”
“Can we dig around it?” Whit asked.
“It is the king’s property. Ask him and don’t try to keep it a secret.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~
W hit looked back at the south gate. He’d been through it once on the way back from Willet’s Bay. This time they took a left at the crossroads and proceeded to the first village and then turned southeast. The old ruin was close to a small town, convenient for its inn, which Pin said had an outstanding reputation.
They stopped at the inn in the late afternoon.
“We are visiting Wessia manor,” Whit said to the innkeeper, a stout, short pixie woman. “Do you have rooms for seven tonight?” Pin stayed in Garri to make sure their backup was in place.
“Foreigners?” The woman frowned. “We don’t serve foreigners. They break beds, tables, and chairs, and eat us out of all our profits. Have a good day and leave the inn, please.”
Whit blinked as if swatted. He didn’t appreciate the rude treatment, but a scene was the kind of thing Whit wanted to leave behind. “You can’t be serious!” Whit said. “I’ll have to have a talk with the king.”
The woman laughed in Whit’s face. “The king doesn’t own this inn, and I do. With all respect to King Quiller, get out of my inn.”
“Is there another inn in town?” Gambol asked. “I apologize for my friend’s actions.”
“On the road going southeast.”
At least the woman gave them a direction. They rode through the town and ended up at a much less reputable-looking place.
“Rooms for seven foreigners. One is a pixie,” Gambol said.
Whit looked at the gnome. “You think that would have made any difference at the last inn?”
Gambol shook his head. “Nope.”
“We can accommodate you. Our rooms are generously sized and should fit you.” The innkeeper looked at the door. “Is that an ogre?”
Whit turned. “It is. He is the nicest person.”
“He gets the wedding room,” the innkeeper said, chuckling. “The bed is still too small for him.”
They found their rooms. Whit wouldn’t say the room was the worst he’d stayed in, but it wasn’t the best. For one night, it would serve. At least they were welcome.
The next morning, after simple pixie fare, they headed toward the manor. The innkeeper gave them directions, telling them they were less than two hours away.
The estate had been taken back by a long-dead king for political reasons, so Whit made sure he had the king’s documents close by. The authorization did not extend to Deechie’s expeditioners.
They almost missed the track that led to the manor. It was large enough for mounted pixies, but not wide enough for the larger Aycean carriages. Zarl and Razz walked in front with axes cutting the vegetation down to permit the carriages to pass. There were hoof prints in the dirt, fresh enough to give Whit the idea that there were friendly forces already stationed up ahead. The carriages rocked and rolled until they came to a stop in front of a large log pulled across the road just before the track opened up.
Razz inspected the fallen tree. “Someone did this recently. The drag marks are fresh.”
The tree made Whit wonder whose hoof marks those really were. He brought all the magic users out of the carriages. “We will try to raise this together,” he said, pulling out Varetta’s wand. Yetti had a regular pixie wand in her hands, too.
“We will get it up about four feet in the air and move it to the left.”
Fistian and Gambol stood on either side of the tree to guide it, once everyone had it lifted. Whit gazed down at Varetta’s wand and filled it with power. “You call it, Zarl,” he said.
“On three,” Zarl said. Immediately after he said, “Three!”
Whit laughed, but then he concentrated as did all the others. He felt the power that he used to levitate small things multiplied many times as he lifted the tree. The others’ magic helped, but Whit could tell his magic and Zarl’s were doing most of the lifting. Gambol and Fistian moved the tree very slowly so they could guide the obstruction through a narrow opening in the forest lining both sides of the road.
Although he could do so much more with the wand, the effort still drained him as much as a full match of scout did. He sat on the running board of one of the carriages to gain some strength before they continued.
“Inside!” Razz yelled. “We are being overtaken.”
Everyone grabbed onto anything they could as the carriages lurched forward making their way a few hundred paces to a clearing in front of Wessia manor. Razz directed Zarl to pull close to the front door, or what once had been a front door. Now it was an empty archway without much wall and no roof.
Whit took a deep breath and did a warm-up move. His magic might be low, but his body still felt ready to fight.
The magic college team rolled into the clearing. Following them were ten mounted men wearing the same uniforms, and as they watched the clearing fill up, mounted pixies rode from behind the manor and flank
ed Whit’s group on both sides.
“Hand over the Augur’s Eye parts,” Deechie said, standing behind the horses.
“Why should we do that?” Whit asked.
“Because I asked you to do it,” Deechie said. “I’m your advisor! You were supposed to stop at the fallen tree!”
Whit laughed as did the others in his team. “Our advisor is over there, and he directed the tree’s removal,” Whit said looking toward Gambol before turning back to Deechie. “You deserted us. We’ve been through this before.”
Deechie frowned. Did he really expect he could pull some kind of rank after his behavior in Perisia? “You’ve already stolen what we’ve found, anyway.”
“Give us what you’ve got,” Deechie said, “or I’ll tell these men to attack you.”
“And who are your friends?” Whit asked.
“They are Interior police and part of Lullan Gastian’s ministry. At present, they answer to me.”
Whit wondered when Pin’s reinforcements were going to show up, but there was no one in sight.
The only relic that we have with us is in the carriage.”
“I’m an old relic too,” Gambol said quietly with a grin.
“Whit brings it over,” Deechie said. “Everyone else stays where they are.”
Whit grabbed the bag of nuts and bolts from inside his carriage and slid the sheath that held his two wands inside his boot. He held out the pouch of nuts and bolts to Deechie.
“Come around to me,” Deechie said, staying behind the horses.
Whit shrugged. Varetta’s wand was tucked into his boot, but he still didn’t have enough power to do more than get his hands wet. He held out the velvet bag until Deechie was forced to come over and snatch it out of Whit’s hand. Deechie immediately opened the bag and picked up a bolt. As soon as he did, someone stepped behind Whit and hit him on the head. As he sunk into unconsciousness, he noticed that the attacker was Paros Porch.
~
Whit sat up, clutching the complaining knot on the back of his head, despite the fact his hands were bound. He was alone in a cell. Where, he didn’t know. Daylight streamed through the top of barred windows. The glass was mottled, keeping Whit from knowing where he was.