by Tom Lloyd
‘Allow me,’ Lastani said when she followed, touching her fingers to the lamp.
The light brightened considerably. Sitain shot the mage a questioning look as she stepped back and Lastani shrugged.
‘The guildmaster is a stone mage. His magic is less than ideal for lending power to a lamp. Ice is little better I confess, but I have power to spare.’
‘It doesn’t draw any power from the air?’ Toil asked.
‘Not this sort, it is a simpler type. Hardier, but less impressive than those we saw in the Labyrinth and not so versatile.’
Toil nodded. ‘I’ve left a fair few behind in ruins over the years, assumed the damn things were broken!’
‘In future,’ Tanimbor said with a smile, ‘I would be glad to buy them off you. For now, however, here …’
He pointed to the far side of the central post, around which the slope turned. Leading them on a few more paces, Tanimbor indicated a large section of stone that wasn’t plain and smooth. Instead there were glyphs cut into the rock, three columns of distinct symbols in a more ornate style than Toil was used to seeing in a place like this.
‘Well now, isn’t that a surprise?’ she breathed as Lastani drifted forward, fingers stopping just short of the glyphs themselves.
‘Good surprise or bad surprise?’ Sitain asked anxiously.
‘Oh good, leastways the bits I can read. Lastani?’
‘Hmm? Oh, oh yes it’s good. I would need some time, but I believe I can translate it all.’
At that, their host raised a finger and went a little further down the steps. He touched a second mage lamp to create a dull glow then fetched up a sheaf of papers from somewhere below.
‘Perhaps these might be of use?’
He handed over the papers and Lastani frowned at them, turning to the brighter lamp to inspect them better. Her lips were already moving as she did so, one finger running over the words of the page.
‘This … this is respectable work.’
Tanimbor hesitated. ‘But?’
Lastani pursed her lips as she continued to scan the paper. ‘Respectable is fine for the classroom, as Mistress Ishienne would say. Less so for the library.’
‘And fucking lethal in a Duegar ruin,’ Toil finished.
Lastani gave her a pained look, enough to remind Toil of the first time Lastani’s teacher had tried to do something more practical.
‘Ah, yeah, sorry.’
Lastani looked away and swallowed hard. ‘Nevertheless, you are correct. Perhaps it was a maxim that could have saved her life.’
‘Luckily failure has not been punished so severely here.’
‘You’ve tried this already?’ Lastani said as Toil gave a snort of dark amusement.
Tanimbor blinked at her. ‘Certainly, why else would I call in outside help?’
‘Goodness. And there was no effect?’
‘None. The magic seemed to just drain away, fade into nothingness. Repeated efforts have not proved cumulative – I believe it needs to be jolted into action.’
Lastani was quiet for a long while. She read through each of the papers very carefully again then compared them to the glyphs engraved on the central column. Occasionally she muttered under her breath, but absolutely nothing else happened for a long while until Toil caught Sitain’s attention.
‘Drink?’
‘What? Now? What about her?’
She grinned. ‘Lastani’s lost to us for another hour I reckon.’
‘And you?’
‘Bah, it’s above my level. I can read directions, get a sense of warnings and the like, but this is more specific. This is one Duegar mage speaking to those that follow. Paranil’s better, he can give her a hand.’
She paused and bent down so her lips were right by the oblivious Lastani’s ear. ‘And o’ course,’ Toil added loudly, causing the white-blonde mage to jump, ‘Lastani’s going to call me before she tries anything, right?’
‘Ah, oh yes, certainly.’
‘Good then. Wine it is.’
‘Sanshir?’
The tattooed man scowled as he peered out of the darkened room. His long hair was a mess of tight curls and the stink of sweat and sex emanating from him would have been enough to make her take a step back normally. Instead, Sanshir just looked down and raised an eyebrow.
‘Disappointing, I’d heard those tattoos went everywhere.’
Ube’s dark skin had whorls of black tattoo across every limb, somehow the man had managed to get a mage to extend that to underneath each of his neatly manicured fingernails – ten individual curls that looked distractingly like claws. Now he was naked, Sanshir was afforded the full view of that artwork.
He gave a lopsided grin that showed the pointed teeth prized among his ancestors. ‘Lift it up and you won’t be disappointed.’
‘So I’ve heard, but I’m here on business.’ She tilted her head to look around Ube. Indistinct shapes moved in the room behind him, three or four people she guessed, lying on a spread heap of rugs and cushions. ‘It looks like you’re probably all tired out anyway.’
Ube leaned his rangy frame against the door post – perfectly at ease in his nakedness and just as aware that Sanshir wasn’t disquieted. The two were rivals and far from friends, but it was too early for posturing. His guards behind her were more keen on putting on a powerful face, but that’s what a kaboto’s guards were for. It didn’t mean Sanshir had to take any notice.
‘How can I be of service to the Champion Kaboto of Caldaire?’
‘Just a small indulgence.’
‘Oh? I was under the impression I’d done that already.’
Sanshir nodded. ‘And yet I ask for another.’
‘Didn’t get the answer you wanted from those mercs last night?’ Ube sniffed. ‘Shame.’
‘I got a different sort of answer,’ she explained. ‘One that requires more attention, perhaps a little encouragement.’
‘Encouragement from a Masts crew? This sounds like there’s going to be blood on my streets,’ the Kaboto of Aufero said. ‘Bad for business, that.’
‘There’s been a complication.’
He yawned and scratched himself. ‘It’s too early for all this, oh Queen of the Masts. Give it to me hot and quick so I can break my fast.’
Sanshir hesitated a moment then nodded. ‘Fine. An exile of Vi No Le has returned, the Bloody Pauper. It may mean nothing, it may be a threat. I have to assume the worst, but like you say, it’s bad for business if things get nasty. I want to set my crews watching his company in a less subtle way, put some pressure on to get them to give up whatever they’re planning and get gone from Caldaire.’
‘The Bloody …’ Ube mused. ‘Ah, I think I remember. Hey, hold on now. He was your man, wasn’t he?’
She nodded. ‘For a time.’
‘Didn’t play well with others, right? Led a coup?’
‘Close enough.’
Ube shrugged. ‘Thought he was dead. You must’ve been softer back then. Still – exiles are always bad news. He was part of this Siym business I heard about? Yeah, I see your point. I don’t want any of that playing out on my streets. Tooled-up mercs on my turf are bad news anyway, let alone ones with a grudge. It hardly matters if their attention is on Auferno or another district. You have your dispensation. My crews will be all over them too. The usual requirements of course – you know the game as well as I.’ He gave an expansive yawn. ‘You’re not some bravo swinging his dick around, so I don’t need to spell anything out.’
‘Nor swing your own dick around,’ Sanshir pointed out, ‘save the flexing and yawns for someone else, Ube.’
He grinned at her, that easy assurance of a man who was comfortable in how powerful and attractive he was.
‘If your Bloody Pauper doesn’t play nice, you may end up owing me a drink for all these favours I’m granting.’
‘I’ll have someone send you a whole bottle,’ Sanshir replied, managing a courteous smile. ‘In the meantime, my lot will behave or they’ll
pray it’s you who punishes them. A pleasure doing business with you, Kaboto Ube.’
There was a balance to the rivalry in Caldaire and while they weren’t street gangs competing for territory, failing to offer the respect required could only be met with something violent. Ube was no pushover despite his lazy calm.
He turned back towards his darkened room. ‘Yeah yeah, now get naked or get gone, Vi No Le scum.’
She left.
It took an hour, as Toil had predicted, but finally Lastani came up for air. Teshen had, inevitably, pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. He and Layir had engaged in some sort of complex two-player game where half the deck ended up spread across the table. It was one Toil had never seen before and after five rounds of slow progress culminating in a sudden total cascade of cards, she remained utterly mystified.
Sitain and Aben had watched the game with even more confusion than Toil, while Tanimbor had taken to the chair at the window, lost in contemplation of the wild cliff face beyond. It was possible he was merely keeping tabs on Lastani to ensure she was doing no magic, but to keep that up for an hour spoke of a paranoid single-mindedness if so.
‘I have it,’ Lastani called from the boring room, as Toil had privately dubbed it. ‘I know how to revive the mechanism.’
‘Mechanism?’ Toil asked just ahead of Sitain. ‘Mechanism to do what?’
‘If the glyphs are to be believed, it is named the breath of life.’
‘Oooh, fancy,’ Sitain laughed, cheeks flushed after wine so early in the day. ‘Bloody Duegar weren’t half up themselves sometimes, weren’t they?’
‘They had a rather dramatic flair,’ Lastani agreed. ‘Perhaps no surprise from a society underpinned by magical power. There was a degree of mysticism in all aspects of life and for all their mastery, magic was considered an art rather than a science.’
‘The breath of life,’ Tanimbor commented with a gasp of breath, as though his meditations had taken him to the brink of death. ‘To a Duegar, they would not see flair.’
‘You know what it does?’ Toil asked.
‘I suspect,’ he corrected. ‘There is only one way to be certain.’
‘Oh, very reassuring.’
‘A relic hunter fears to tread the path?’
‘A relic hunter only stays alive by understanding the risks ahead, even if the name does suggest it’s not going to kill half the city.’
Lastani raised a reassuring hand and offered over the papers Tanimbor had given her. ‘I will take you through it. You understand enough to grasp this, I believe.’
‘Careful, Mistress Ufre,’ Toil warned. ‘All this flattery’s likely to go to my head.’
‘I’m sure I will have occasion to remind you of your deficiencies soon enough. In the meantime, I am confident I can do this, but I will not be able to do it alone.’
‘Time to test the limits of your power?’
Lastani shook her head. ‘This must be performed by linked mages, it is a requirement of the work. Whether I or the guildmaster should lead the effort is up for debate, but we need several more at least.’
‘How many?’ Tanimbor asked. ‘I can summon eight or nine right now if you are so confident.’
‘Just how sure are you?’ Sitain demanded. ‘Very sure, kinda sure or, maybe-a-huge-ghostly-monster-will-rip-us-a-new-one sure?’
Lastani scowled. Though she knew the needling was a knee-jerk reaction among the mutually abusive Cards, rather than anyone holding a grudge, the memory remained a raw wound.
‘I will be the one standing at the front,’ she said in a cracked voice.
Toil heaved herself up out of her seat. ‘Come on then, take me through it while the guildmaster rounds up his acolytes.’
Lastani led her down the dark spiral to the glyphs inscribed on the central pillar. As soon as they were out of sight of Tanimbor, Toil motioned for Lastani to keep talking and headed further down.
‘Don’t bother,’ Lastani called after her. ‘It doesn’t run far.’
Ignoring the woman, Toil continued on down, only to find herself in a low chamber with a second set of glyphs and a single further glass lamp. She looked around the room with a practised relic hunter’s eye, but could find nothing that indicated anything hidden and soon returned to Lastani.
‘You didn’t believe me?’ Lastani said when she reappeared.
Toil shrugged. ‘Always good to see for yourself. Eye of experience an’ all.’
She positioned herself in front of the panel of glyphs and brushed her fingertips over the raised stone lines. They were mage-carved of course, but done with such precision and so well protected from the elements that she could feel the pointed corners to each line.
‘These ones I know,’ she said, indicating two. ‘Those, not so much.’
Lastani nodded. ‘Consider them a key – the directions to activate the mechanism correctly. Here, we have the blend of magic required; here, the indication that linked mages are required to match the levels.’
‘Levels?’
‘Tanimbor will have to do the same at the panel below, they must be done in conjunction.’
‘They’re the same?’
She nodded. ‘Identical. I will need to lead the process, likely the guildmaster already knows he is not powerful enough to manipulate the mechanism properly at such a distance. It’s buried deep below us, presumably to ensure only the powerful can activate it.’
Over the next few minutes, Lastani detailed the process required and exactly how she would be doing it and the likely result. By the time Tanimbor had returned with a small cadre, Toil agreed there was nothing beyond Lastani’s abilities required. But what convinced her was the very first thing she’d seen here. The hidden staircase was a deft piece of trickery, only a lunatic would feel further defences would be necessary past that. There was likely an older structure over this once, this was just all that remained. She’d be ready to take precautions of course, but had never seen the Duegar put traps on mechanisms. Whether they could do it was less of a concern to Toil than whether they should. Normally she’d be more cautious of the result, but time was pressing and she wanted the information from Tanimbor soon.
The mages filed dutifully down – a ragged procession of seven who were wary and silent around the mercenaries. An old man led them, a grandfatherly figure to whom the youngest, a pale boy of no more than twelve, stuck close to though clearly they were not related by blood.
‘Bit young isn’t he?’ Toil commented to Tanimbor.
The guildmaster inclined his head in agreement. ‘Younger than most,’ he said, ‘but a surprising talent born right here in Cliffbase and one we intend to nurture carefully. The experience will be most instructive.’
‘None of these are mages of tempest?’ Lastani asked. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but their magic might complicate matters.’
‘None,’ he confirmed. ‘We have here stone, fire, wind and lightning.’
The rest were mostly in their twenties, men and women from all around the Callais Sea. Aside from the boy, they all looked rather battered by life, which was no great surprise given they had joined this unconventional guild. Several were barefoot and though they all wore the grey tunics, several had old and stained clothing underneath. Likely they’d been pulled from the kitchens or some other un-mage-like task.
Self-sufficiency or servitude? Toil wondered. She would have loved to speak to one alone, to gauge where Tanimbor lay between generous mentor and dangerous fanatic, but that was tomorrow’s problem.
Lastani directed Tanimbor downstairs and described what she needed him to do. Judging by the man’s reaction, he’d expected this and his incomplete notes had been as much of a test as anything. The precaution was encouraging, Toil decided, but she reserved her judgement and watched.
The mages formed a chain between Tanimbor and Lastani, the old man offering his hand to her with a courtly bow and an easy smile. At his side the lad looked less at ease, but no more hesitant to participate. Sitain was sen
t down to stand beside Tanimbor, to balance Lastani’s great power at the other end of the chain – and also to punch the man if he did something stupid, Toil hoped.
‘Toil, you will not interrupt this,’ Lastani instructed her before she began. ‘The balance will be delicate, the effort great. I want no talking or touching while I’m working, do you understand?’
Sitain opened her mouth to speak but Lastani cut her off, anticipating her question. ‘Yes, of course if some ghostly horror attacks us, that’s different. I trust Toil to know which danger would be the greater.’
‘You have my word,’ Toil said. ‘Now get moving. I’d like to get back before Anatin decides to open a brothel or something.’
Lastani nodded and pressed her fingers to one glyph, briefly closing her eyes. Almost immediately the willow tattoos on her skin began to glow, a dull white that soon became brighter than the lamp in the alcove behind. Toil looked past her and saw a second light coming from Sitain.
There was a faint gasp from the boy as the rush of power began to flow through him, the raw energy that linked mages of all types. Toil looked over at where Teshen squatted at the top of the central column, watching the mages owlishly. As she did so, the tattoos on his skin began to glow. Checking her hands, Toil saw her own do the same. The effect on Layir was more startling, his brown skin coming alive with white light.
The tattoos began to tingle warm; nothing alarming but enough to tell her they were becoming a conduit for power. She knew the others would be feeling the same and hoped they hadn’t ventured out yet. They couldn’t keep the tattoos a secret, but there was no need to provide a light show in the middle of the street.
All of a sudden the feeling changed. The cold rush of movement passing through seemed to envelop her in a torrent. The tattoos became a hole in the world, through which purest energy flowed. She stifled a gasp as itch turned to a furious tingle, just on the cusp of painful and reminding her of the moat around the tree in Jarrazir. That had proved such a surge of sensation only sex rivalled it and as Lastani drew more power she felt her knees weaken. She looked up to see Layir’s eyes bulge with surprise, then had to look away as the young man flopped down on to his backside.