Knight of Stars

by Tom Lloyd

  Once Toil had stepped up on to the jetty, Lastani did take the man’s hand. Both of the Cliffbase mages were handsome and scrubbed clean compared to the dock workers. Square-jawed and young, one was white with long sandy hair poking out from under his headscarf. The other was shorter and dark-skinned with noticeably pointed canines, a feature of one of the tribes in these parts, Toil knew. In this one’s face at least, it was oddly enticing.

  ‘The guildmaster thanks you for your prompt arrival,’ the first mage said as Layir waved a hopeful hand in the mage’s direction. ‘He will be especially pleased that you chose to assist us, Mistress Ufre.’

  ‘Don’t get ahead of yourselves,’ Toil replied. ‘We’ve not taken the job yet. Tanimbor’s note lacked any details.’

  The mage bowed. ‘Of course, Mistress. If you would follow me?’

  He led them down a wide market street where the morning’s trade was in full force. Most people looked poor, but it was hardly the slum Teshen had made out. There was little of the colour and variety of dress that you’d see elsewhere, but the throng was full of working people rather than beggars.

  Toil watched the faces as she passed, but it was curiosity not fear they displayed as they stepped aside for the mages. Clearly Tanimbor’s guild held great sway here, but there was industry too by the sounds and smells – many of the more noxious professions tucked away from the richer parts of the city.

  Set back from the busy thoroughfare was a wide street of glassblowers and other craftsmen. The mage turned down this without a backward glance at his charges. It was a short street and dominated by the building at the far end – squat and defensible, three storeys high but set in a dip of ground, as though it pre-dated the rest of the district. A conical roof rose from the rear section, strangely out of place in a city of blunt curved stone or terracotta peaks.

  A low wall and curling iron railing interrupted the street about halfway down. The dwellings beyond had been co-opted by the guild it appeared, though Toil could see more than just grey-coated mages inside. A trellis framework stretched across the nearer section, almost swamped by climbing plants that offered shade from the morning sun when they reached it.

  Once inside the guild grounds, it was clearly a newer and less ornate affair than most Toil had seen. Some of the guilds were ancient and even in passing it was possible to see the detail and refinement in their surroundings. The finest mage-carvers honed their talents both as advertisement of their work and symbol of their position amid the city’s structure. Here most of the work was of a more functional nature.

  Ushered directly inside, the mage stopped in a large refectory where four long tables stood, empty but for a jug of wine and four brass cups.

  ‘Your guards may wait here,’ the mage indicated.

  Toil shook her head. ‘Not a chance. They come with us.’

  ‘It is tradition that non-mages do not enter guilds,’ he said with a pained expression. ‘We are already making an exception for you, Mistress Toil.’

  ‘Does it look like that interests me much?’

  He paused. ‘I will have to speak to the guildmaster.’

  Toil nodded and turned back the way she’d come. ‘Try to catch us before we reach the barge then.’

  She was almost at the door when a voice called her back and Guildmaster Tanimbor himself appeared at the far end of the hall.

  ‘Mistress Toil, leaving so soon?’

  She paused. ‘We got invited then told we weren’t all welcome. Make up your damn mind or come visit me in future.’

  ‘My apologies. I hoped you might consider a small concession to local custom. After all, it has not been so long since bounty hunters and kidnap teams were sent by the Orders to seize slaves for their factories.’

  Toil nodded. ‘Any of those teams get specifically invited in?’

  ‘Who knows? As I’m sure you are aware, those who work in the wilds, above the law, can be devious.’

  She smiled at that and raised an eyebrow at Aben. ‘I think he’s talking about people like us.’

  ‘We’re above the law?’ Aben replied. ‘That’s good to hear.’

  ‘I cast no aspersions …’ Taminbor paused. ‘Perhaps we could speak in a more civilised manner, however. Talking to your back isn’t the most productive start to negotiations.’

  ‘Are we all welcome?’

  A sigh. ‘Very well. Perhaps you would at least concede to leave your guns down here?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You are a most inflexible woman, Mistress Toil.’

  ‘Aye well, I’m not so young as I used to be. Some of the Cards were discussing that very detail, late one night, but I’m confident they came to regret the matter.’

  Aben nodded. ‘Varain’s balls didn’t work right for a month, so he said.’

  ‘Quite,’ Tanimbor said, the one word conveying faint revulsion. ‘As you wish, Mistress Toil. Please, follow me.’

  She turned and bestowed her best dazzling smile on the man, which had precisely zero effect. ‘Please, lead on, Guildmaster.’

  The Cards followed him back through the door and up a wide staircase. The walls were carved in all sorts of strange ways – almost the entire face of stone altered in a bizarre variety of styles.

  ‘Our younger mages,’ Tanimbor explained with one finger pointing at the wall, though he’d not looked back. ‘It has become a small tradition to experiment with their skills in this way. I feel we all benefit from a reminder of youth’s creativity. There is beauty in the process, in the quest for knowledge and artistry, do you not feel?’

  Toil looked over the curious, overlapping array of stone-carvings, many incorporating the work of others in inventive or ridiculous ways.

  ‘There’s something to be said for that,’ she conceded. ‘Some of it’s just shit though.’

  A bark of laughter was all she received in reply. Tanimbor led them past a startled pair of novices and along a corridor to a wide set of doors. He entered a study where a pair of expensive-looking desks stood beyond a round table of polished mahogany.

  The question is, are you a true spiritual leader of these people, pretentious manipulator or some crazed fanatic? Toil wondered as she followed Tanimbor in.

  On the table was a strange device made of brass, glass and silver. It sat on a circular frame with eight thin pipes curving down from a central glass container, all resting on runners so that it could spin about the centre.

  ‘Please, sit.’

  Tanimbor idly pushed one of the runners where a small tap sat above a brass bowl.

  ‘A relic of my people, back before they came to the Mage Islands. The custom is to take a cup and pour yourself the wine,’ he added, plucking a cup of silver-chased horn and demonstrating. ‘An overly ornate method of hospitality perhaps, but the ritual pleases me.’

  He held the cup under one tap and opened it with a twist of the fingers, wine tricking down until he closed it again. The Cards playing guard, Teshen, Layir and Aben, took up positions while Lastani, Sitain and Paranil spread around the table. There were no other mages in the room, a curious detail Toil thought, but inside their guildhouse that was not quite the same as safe.

  She spun the contraption around and selected one pipe at random, pouring herself a cup. She raised it in toast, waiting until the others had done the same before speaking.

  ‘Of course, your people were notorious poisoners, well practised in inuring themselves.’

  Tanimbor smiled at that, thin and reptilian but that was just him, Toil didn’t think he’d been caught out. ‘A student of history, Mistress Toil?’

  ‘Just Toil, none of this “mistress” rubbish,’ she corrected him. ‘And I know a bit of history, but I’m certainly a student of poisoning. You never know who you might end up sharing a drink with.’

  ‘Indeed. However, the task I have for you requires all of your faculties and vital functions to be intact.’

  ‘And the task is?’ Lastani broke in, her cup full but untouched. ‘Toil wasn�
��t exactly clear on that front.’

  ‘I gave few details,’ Tanimbor admitted. ‘However, I believe it is something you are uniquely suited to.’

  ‘Me or her?’

  ‘You, Mistress Ufre, perhaps with her assistance. Were I certain, I perhaps wouldn’t need your assistance.’

  ‘Why us anyway?’ Toil asked. ‘We’re new in town and haven’t made many friends.’

  ‘Aha, not within the established powers no, but that is to your advantage in my eyes. I am not a man content to follow the herd. I believe in a more dynamic way of life and you, Toil, with your Mercenary Deck, are clearly no strangers to upsetting the balance of the world.’

  ‘Hah!’ Sitain muttered. ‘Oh hells, did I say that out loud?’

  ‘We’ve been known to upset a few applecarts in our pursuit of truth and justice,’ Toil continued smoothly, ‘but that’s beside the point. Now we’re here, what’s the job?’

  Tanimbor inclined his head. ‘Tell me, Toil, do you notice anything unusual about this room?’

  She looked around. There were wall hangings and wooden-framed windows, plain rugs on the floor and not a lot more beyond the empty-topped desks. At last she noticed what he meant and kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. There was a door leading off to the right – not in itself strange but the proportions were unusual. It was a double-door, which for a side room was strange, but if anything it was wider than the one they’d come through and the stone surrounding it was old and wind-scoured.

  ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘What is it?’ Sitain asked.

  Toil pointed at the door. ‘That’s not human-carved, the frame I mean. Look at the stone, that was outside in the wind and rain for a long time.’ She got up and bent to inspect one corner. ‘It was engraved at one point too. What did it say?’

  ‘There is no record,’ Tanimbor replied. ‘The job I have for you lies within.’

  ‘Ulfer’s broken horn,’ Sitain muttered. ‘Not some new bloody Duegar death-trap? If so, you can count me out.’

  ‘Somewhere, deep down, there will be, but I imagine it’s flooded,’ Toil said. ‘This is just the very top – the peak of the tower. What was it, do you know? Some sort of outpost? Something bigger? The tunnel canal must have come to a staging point at very least.’

  ‘We do not know,’ Tanimbor said. ‘There are several small relics of the Duegar in the Mage Islands, but this I uncovered only recently. There is no path down to be found and I agree the most crazed of relic hunters would not go there.’

  ‘Well she’s here now,’ Sitain said, ‘you can ask her.’

  Toil shot Sitain a look and the sour-faced young woman finally shut up. ‘I don’t know about that, but this relic hunter’s expert opinion is that it’s either flooded or teeming with tysarn.’

  Tanimbor nodded. ‘Either way, it is of no great concern. The room, however, is not merely some sort of Duegar attic. There are markings that I believe match the few scant records we have of expeditions into the tunnel itself.’

  ‘I thought no one ever made it out?’

  ‘Not entirely true, but given how much has been explored, the prevailing wisdom is that it’s safer for all concerned to say no one ever survives.’

  ‘I’m guessing you’re not a man who agrees with prevailing wisdom,’ Toil said.

  He smiled to concede the point. ‘In this case, I made the exception. The furthest anyone has ever ventured was a few hundred yards before their ship was wrecked. The greater tysarn are bad-tempered and hungry, but occasionally they miss a few people. Two women and one man have survived to wash out with the wreckage of their expedition and give a record of what they saw.’

  ‘Dark and full of monsters?’

  ‘Close. There was very little to see, but some garbled attempt at symbols remain. It was nothing of particular interest until I discovered something similar in the room next door.’

  ‘Discovered?’

  ‘As a young man I indulged in a little stone carving myself,’ he explained. ‘I was investigating the floor as a canvas when I found something different. Further explorations produced something interesting.’

  ‘But you don’t know what it is?’

  ‘I am a mage with some modest schooling, but I am no relic hunter. My knowledge offers a clearer shape of what I cannot see.’

  Toil thought for a moment. ‘But you can’t bring this to another, more learned guild. Not without offering your secrets up.’

  ‘Nor without the risk they would lie about what they see. You understand my dilemma.’

  ‘Better to trust outsiders then,’ Lastani said.

  ‘Mercenaries have very clear interests,’ Tanimbor said by way of agreement. ‘They like to be paid and they like to stay alive. You have few friends in the city and while I would not risk my mages in a direct conflict, you are likely to leave soon. Sell my secrets to the highest bidder and I am willing to repay that in kind.’

  ‘Meaning?’ Sitain snapped, forgetting her promise. A part of Toil sympathised, but it was a different part to the one that wanted to clip Sitain around the head.

  ‘Meaning setting the Orders on us,’ Toil said in a level tone. ‘Let’s put the threats aside for a moment though. I’m more interested in discussing the price of successful business, not the cost of broken promises.’

  ‘I have never hired a relic hunter before,’ Tanimbor said. ‘I do not know what fees you command, only what a mage of unusual abilities may expect. I warn you that our finances are limited. As you can no doubt see, we are not a large or powerful guild.’

  ‘Money’s dull,’ Toil said, feeling a slight quickening in her blood. ‘It’s just a way of keeping score, once you’ve earned a decent amount.’

  Tanimbor raised an eyebrow. ‘You are a rare mercenary then.’

  ‘You’ve no bloody idea. What’s just as valuable to me is information.’

  ‘And the cost to me of giving that information?’

  ‘Modest.’

  ‘In which case you have my interest.’

  Toil grinned. ‘Thought I might! All I want’s a name. I know there’s a guild secretly manufacturing cartridges here in the Mage Islands, I want to know who.’

  He blinked at her. ‘Do you now? Such information is indeed valuable – as it is dangerous. Or it would be if it were true.’

  Toil nodded. The manufacture of mage-gun cartridges required a God Fragment and while the Orders had given up their efforts to kidnap mages from these parts, they might well conduct a large-scale raid if they knew of a God Fragment here.

  ‘I know it’s true. I’ve got it on good authority that shipments came from these parts that can’t be tracked back to any sanctuary. They’ve supplied enemies of the Divine Orders in Ei Det, Ikir and Olostir and I’ve no problem with any of that.’

  ‘Why do you want this information then?’

  ‘Because I want them to supply me – or rather, a city I represent. I’m from Parthain and after this business in Jarrazir, the Orders will be shifting their focus. Supply of cartridges will have started drying up already, that’s how they work. There are enough competing Orders that they’ve never been able to entirely cut supply, but if war breaks out the majority will fall into line.’

  ‘You understand, such information would be a close-guarded secret. To betray that would be to betray my own kind. I may disagree with their politics, but all mages are my brothers and sisters. To endanger one is to harm us all.’

  Toil shook her head. ‘Whatever your creed, anyone fighting the Orders serves your cause. We should be allies in this war and I think events in Jarrazir prove that we’re committed. We would hardly have orchestrated all that just to uncover the location of one or two fragments here, not least because they want us more than they want the remaining fragments.’

  She helped herself to another cup of wine and sat back, watching Tanimbor as the thin mage considered her words.

  ‘Believe me or not, that’s my price. Do you want some time to decid
e?’

  Chapter 21

  Toil had to admit she was disappointed. As secret Duegar artefacts went it was bloody unimpressive. As empty rooms went it was still on the dull side. Through the door was a room, circular and six yards across containing nothing beyond a battered armchair and a second doorway. She took a step in so the others could see and then stopped, her innate paranoia taking over.

  Before Tanimbor had turned she had her mage-pistol out. Tashen and Layir were quick to follow but when the guildmaster noticed, he merely chuckled.

  ‘Please, Mist— ah, Toil. This isn’t a trick. You wouldn’t expect me to keep my secrets out in plain view would you?’

  ‘What then?’

  He nodded at the floor in the centre of the room. ‘If you would stay where you are?’

  The floor was smooth, mage-carved stone with nothing at all to indicate the building’s provenance. It didn’t even look ancient, let alone of interest to a relic hunter.

  With a conjurer’s flourish Tanimbor drew back the loose sleeves of his coat and knelt to one side of the centre. The air blurred and distorted around him briefly, but then the stonework itself shuddered and began to sink.

  ‘A Duegar seal?’ Lastani breathed, her expression both apprehensive and full of wonder. The others had no such conflict and all braced themselves, mage-guns pointed down at the emerging space.

  ‘You do not need to worry, there are no guardians,’ Tanimbor said. Suddenly viscous, the stone dropped down to form a spiral slope around a thick round pillar in the middle half of the room. Toil craned past him and saw the darkness of the space behind.

  ‘How far down does it go?’

  ‘Not far. Not into any great Duegar complex you will be glad to hear, Mistress Sitain.’

  ‘Just Sitain,’ the young woman said. ‘If she ain’t a mistress, I bloody ain’t either.’

  ‘Of course. Would you all follow me?’

  He led them down the spiral slope, ducking under the lintel and into a narrow dark space. Toil followed cautiously, not wanting to reveal her unnaturally good vision, but in moments a dull glow of light spread around the low room. Tanimbor stood at an alcove with one hand on a mage lamp. It was an oval lump that looked like sea glass but for the glow – nothing like as impressive as the ones she’d seen in the past but possibly even more ancient.