The Conspiracy of Unicorns

by Michael Angel

  “They might have been at one time, but the Deliberati standardized them. That way, all young wizards, regardless of species, learn magic the same way. After I learned the basics, Rikka and I earned spare coin through chores for other centaur families so that I could purchase more advanced texts from the Deliberati-approved sequence of books.”

  That brought me up short for a moment. Thanks to Hollywood, I’d halfway expected Galen to have been sent an admissions letter by magic owl. But the way centaurs learned wizardry…was simply going to correspondence school!

  “As for humans,” Galen continued, with a swish of his equine tail, “my understanding is that they are schooled by the Wizard’s Guild once their talent is identified. Their courses of study take place at the Archivist Guild. Which makes eminent sense, as the archivists track the progress of the students as well as tend to their repository of books.”

  That’s it, I thought fiercely. This is where we can find more of our answers!

  “So, they track those who’ve passed through their doors,” I said. “In that case, we might find out more than what’s happened with the human wizards of this kingdom.”

  “How do you mean, Dayna?”

  In answer, I brought my chalk back up to the board. I jabbed it at the two items I’d just joined with a line.

  “We might find a record of Grayson Archer’s training. And maybe we can identify the two wizards I saw in that dream vision. The ones who were trying their best to kill each other.”

  Shaw let out a low caw. “‘Tis an exciting prospect. Thy insight may gain us an advance upon our enemy!”

  “Maybe,” I said grimly. “And maybe not. But it’s definitely time we took a closer look at the people who train and certify wizards for this kingdom.”

  Chapter Eight

  My mother used to joke that there was only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people just kept sending it to each other. Since the slice I’d tried tasted like mummified gumdrops rolled in mealy flour, I could see why. And I couldn’t help but think of fruitcake as we approached the building that held the Wizard’s Guild, Archivist Guild, and library that served them both.

  Chestnut brown walls and high, steep-sloped roofs made up the main structure. Where the walls were stone, the roof was made of equal parts wooden beams and panels of stained glass. The glass itself looked nice enough at first glance. Then the closer we got, the more I realized the colors were either the radioactive red or garish green of badly candied fruit.

  I put that vision out of my mind as my friends and I went through the small grassy courtyard and up a series of wide marble steps. To my surprise, there were no guards at the top. In fact, the French-style doors framing the entryway were propped wide open to let the cooling breeze in.

  “Bide a moment,” Galen said, as he raised his hands and recited a quick incantation. A flash of gold spangles popped against my retinas, causing my eyes to water.

  “Wow,” I exclaimed. “Next time, give me a little warning.”

  “My apologies, Dayna. I’ve taken down and reset the Ward of Protection so many times, it’s become second-nature.”

  Galen led us through the entryway and along a wide corridor punctuated by large rooms on either side. Many of these rooms were packed with bookshelves sagging with the weight of scrolls and texts piled atop them. Others were filled with equipment that looked tantalizingly similar to items I’d played with in high school.

  Racks of glistening test tubes gleamed from high wooden shelves. Round flasks filled with unidentifiable substances bubbled softly over small flames. Rows of bronze astronomical globes, slide rules, and sets of forceps longer than my forearm had been lined up on tables and shelves. Everything looked as if it had been neatly placed and kept in good order.

  As tidy as the displays of equipment were, about half the rooms were choked with the kind of fluffy gray dust that piles up only after months or years of disuse. For some reason that simply didn’t sit well with me.

  Droning speech rose from other rooms, broken only by the loud clacks of Galen and Liam’s hooves on the stone floor. As we went by, I picked up quick glimpses of elderly men or women lecturing from podiums. They wore heavy red robes adorned along the cuffs with silver or gold wizarding symbols.

  The instructors were in turn surrounded by blue-robed students of various ages. The students sat at long benches, or in some cases reclined upon them with their eyes closed. Snores rattled up from a few. Apparently, classroom discipline was laxer in this world than mine. Then again, I’d had the odd college class that deserved sleep more than rapt attention.

  The hallway opened into a wide space centered upon a bustling wooden counter. Light poured in from above through a section of the stained glass roof, casting ruby or emerald-colored pools of color on the floor. My nose twitched as the air filled with the dusty scent of parchment and drying glue.

  Clerks scurried about, filling out forms or placing books onto carts for re-shelving. Beyond the counter lay a quadrangle of tables where people wearing colored robes sat poring over dusty tomes. If I had any doubt that this was the reading area, someone had placed a sign next to the entry gate.

  TALK MUST BIDE

  QUIET HERE RESIDES

  ABSOLUTELY NO FRUMENTUM

  OR PIPE WEED BEYOND THIS POINT!

  The thin, brown-robed man at the counter had the clammy-looking skin of a corpse and an expression that wouldn’t have been out of place on one. I had to hand it to him, though. Seeing a centaur accompanied by a woman, a griffin, and a fabled magical stag didn’t faze him a bit.

  “Greetings, Court Wizard,” he intoned, sparing only the briefest of glances for the rest of us. “If I recall correctly, you are now sixty-eight days overdue in returning Bigby’s Hands-On Guide to Cantrips. Have you come to pay your fine?”

  “Ah, not precisely,” Galen said, a trifle flummoxed. “Rather, I am here by request of Dame Chrissie, who is on a most urgent mission for the crown.”

  “Really?” Now I got the full head-to-toe examination. I tried smiling warmly. It didn’t work. I’d had friendlier inspections from the security officers at the airport. “I fail to see the urgency.”

  “Nevertheless, urgency is at issue. We wish to speak to Lead Archivist Fiona at once!”

  A paper-thin wisp of eyebrow raised in disapproval. “She won’t be pleased at this disturbance.”

  “Pleased or not, I wish to speak with her.” Galen insisted. “I would think that one Archivist could impose on another with a certain level of…professional courtesy.”

  The man gave a shrug that all but said, ‘it’s your funeral, I guess’. Then he turned and headed for one of the nearby doorways. A low murmur came from the clerks behind the desks as people started to notice us. Galen ignored them, dabbing at his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve.

  “‘Tis an interesting sort of company you keep,” Shaw observed.

  “Agreed,” Liam said. “I could feel the frost forming on my antlers.”

  “The two guilds I belong to aren’t known for…well, what Dayna calls ‘customer service’,” Galen admitted. “Yet, I’m hoping that they will assist us. The Lead Archivist is a formidable figure, one who likely has the knowledge we seek.”

  “Well, your Archivist friend certainly has an impressive collection back there,” I said, as I craned my neck to see. The roof continued to slope up sharply beyond the counter. I made out a second, and even a cramped third floor of shelving. Each floor was jammed tight with scrolls and yet more books. “This is the library used by the Archivists as well as the Wizards, right?”

  “Indeed.” Galen stretched out one muscular arm and pointed to the left and then the right. “You can see why both guilds utilize it, given its convenient location.”

  Two short hallways stretched away on both sides. Each was lined with marble statues depicting life-size renditions of robed mages. The statues were limestone-white, but they were spangled with spots of color cast by the sunlight as it fell through the stai
ned glass above.

  “The Archivists perform preservation and restorative work in the rooms down the corridor to the left,” Galen continued. “The Wizard’s Guild makes use of the classrooms we passed through behind us, and the Deliberation of the most senior spellcasters takes place down the hall to the right.”

  A bony-faced woman emerged from the back room with the cadaverous clerk in tow. She had a cropped head of silver hair and the pinched face of someone eating gone-off lemons. What’s more, she sported a violet robe so oversized that it looked as if the garment was trying to swallow her whole.

  “Greetings, Fiona,” Galen said, with a slight incline of his head. “My friends and I have come–”

  “Mister Ghormley says that you are sixty-eight days overdue on one of our texts,” Fiona said, in that steely voice that all pissed-off librarians seemed to keep on tap. “This is in error. You are seventy-eight days overdue.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for Ghormley to get any paler, but he did. “I…I must have forgotten to account for…”

  “Yes, you did. Report to our administrative punishments wing. Come back when you’ve been properly flogged.”

  Ghormley let out a sob and fled the room as fast as his feet could take him. Liam and Shaw watched his progress in stunned silence. Frankly, I was amazed. Amazed that anyone dared borrow the books from this place at all.

  Galen began again, though he cleared his throat uncomfortably as he did so.

  “Lead Archivist,” he said politely, “My friends seek information. Specifically, as to the identity of three wizards who may have studied here.”

  The woman’s lower lip twitched. “Ah. I suppose I shall forgive you for interrupting my morning studies. I like a challenge. It makes for a pleasant change. I have gone over the lists of our attendees and graduates time and again, and know them the way a farmer knows the furrows of his fields.”

  “Archivist Fiona has perfect recall of all she reads,” Galen informed me. He then began to introduce us. “This is Dame Chrissie. Also with us are Grimshaw of the–”

  “Spare me,” Fiona said, with a wave of her hand. “You all belong to the most infamous of knightly orders. The less I know of your doings, the better. Speak to me of your request, or begone.”

  Galen thought for a moment, and then stepped to one side. He motioned for me to step up. I did, though I had to will my voice to remain steady under Fiona’s hard gaze.

  “Okay,” I began. “The first two wizards I’m looking for…”

  I let my voice trail off. Apparently, Dayna Chrissie wasn’t thinking things all the way through today.

  “Yes?” Fiona asked ominously.

  “Well, I don’t know their names,” I admitted. “But they’re a man and a woman. They looked like they were each in their mid-twenties or early thirties. Or they will be very soon.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “This was…well, in a vision. A near-dream about a future that may come true within the next couple of months. Or years. Look, I know it sounds insane. Or addled, as you might put it.”

  “Addled?” The Archivist gave a dismissive snort. “Do not flatter yourself. We handle visions from the Soothsayer’s Guild all the time.”

  “The point is that they should look pretty much like they do now. If they’re here, that is. The man’s the most distinctive, as he’s dark-skinned. As in oil-slick black. Tall, easily over six feet, and well-muscled.”

  “Your answer is an easy one,” Fiona said crisply. “There is no current student or recent graduate of the Wizard’s Guild who looks like that. We have had Summer Islanders from the south and east of the Weatherglass Sea who are the deep bronze of unpolished copper, but none in the last half decade.”

  That set me back a bit. The woman in my vision had been slightly more coppery-looking, but nothing had really stood out about her. I hadn’t even heard their voices clearly.

  “What else happened in this dream?” Fiona pressed. “What makes you think they were wizards in the first place?”

  “Because they were dueling with magic,” I explained. “The woman was casting a spell. I saw her swing her arm down as she spoke an incantation. Then, a bright spark of lightning shot at the man. He made a gesture and it glanced off him.”

  “Then the answer remains simple. It is impossible for either of these people to have attended this place.”

  “What? Why?”

  Fiona’s expression went even more prim and proper. “Because we haven’t taught the spells to cast, manipulate, or divert energy at this Guild for twenty years.”

  “Interesting,” Galen mused. “Those are the primary ways a spellcaster can attack, or defend themselves.”

  “Oh, several of our older instructors can perform these tricks, but they are no longer part of our curriculum.”

  “Perchance, why would that be?”

  “The Deliberati have forbidden it,” Fiona sniffed. “It has been declared a waste of power and talent. Students who have shown interest are directed into other, properly accepted branches of study.”

  I looked to Galen, amazed. “Then how is it possible that you know all about lightning and energy spell–”

  “Again, I am a centaur,” he reminded me. “We do not learn through the guild system.”

  And that’s when the truth hit me, hard. If either of those two wizards had gone elsewhere to learn their magic, then there would be no record of them here.

  And that put me back at square one.

  Chapter Nine

  Okay, so the first lead hadn’t panned out. I didn’t like it, but I could accept it. Mostly because I really didn’t have much of a choice.

  That left me with one more arrow in my quiver.

  “All right,” I said, “there’s one more wizard I’m after. His name is ‘Grayson Archer’.”

  “I was hoping for more of a challenge,” Archivist Fiona said ruefully. “There has been no student or graduate of the Wizard’s Guild by that name. Ever.”

  I came within an ace of saying, Are you sure about that? That would have gone over as well as the proverbial lead balloon.

  “Interesting. It could be that ‘Archer’ was an assumed name,” Galen said to me. “Especially if he was concerned about others from Andeluvia following him into your world.”

  I thought for a moment about Grayson Archer’s appearance. He looked middle-aged to me, though in fantastic shape. He had frown lines huddling between his brows and silver-templed dark hair right out of a Hollywood casting call for a Secretary of Defense. But even if Fiona had a photographic memory of records, I’d never seen an Andeluvian document with so much as a sketch, let alone a picture of someone. And he could have changed in appearance over twenty or thirty years.

  But maybe that time factor could help.

  “Perhaps we could narrow down the time that he attended classes here,” I suggested. “If he was only a boy when he arrived at the guild, we could start with that.”

  “You assume that we take in students at a prescribed age?” Fiona asked scornfully. “How ridiculous! We take in students based on ability. They might start at six years or sixty. Whenever their ability becomes manifest.”

  Well, there went that idea.

  “Perchance I may have an insight,” Galen put in. “We know that Archer can cast wards of protection, inscribe wizard’s symbols, and even manipulate the magic of crystals. Surely that should whittle the search.”

  “Wards are relatively common fare,” Fiona said, after a moment’s thought. “But the other two items are rare, and telling. Neither subject has ever been taught here.”

  “Then how would he know how to do these things?” I asked, frustrated.

  “He might have requested access to specialized texts,” Galen said quickly. “And he likely did it the same way I did. To my surprise, the process is direct, yet not for the faint of countenance. In fact, one might consider it–”

  “Thou art trying our patience, Wizard!” Shaw complained, and his foreclaw
made a screech on the stone floor. “Tell us how thy request was granted!”

  Galen shot an annoyed look at Shaw. “I went through the Deliberati, impatient drake!”

  My mind put everything together with a click.

  “That means we’re talking to the wrong person,” I realized. “We don’t want to look at admissions records of hundreds or thousands of people. Galen has it right. We only want to look at those who learned specific types of magic.”

  The Wizard nodded sagely. “And that number would be vanishingly small.”

  “Be as it may,” Fiona said severely, “I would think that at least the Court Wizard would know the rules of his guild. Any petition to speak with the Deliberation must be filed formally with the Wizard and Archivist Guilds. Once both have approved said petition, the council will schedule you to meet at their earliest convenience.”

  “And how long is that going to take?” I asked, acutely aware that I hadn’t learned anything about patience today. Not one bit.

  “You’re in luck. Both guilds are scheduling next winter’s review of petitions right now. If you proceed promptly, I’m sure that we could add you to the bottom of the list.”

  I looked at her in shock. “We can’t wait that long! We need to see this ‘senior wizard council’ immediately.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Archivist Fiona,” I said exasperatedly. “You must be aware of how important my request is. I’m trying to save this kingdom. You know, the one you happen to live in?”

  But the woman’s voice was firm. “That type of request is forbidden!”

  Well, it had been worth a shot, I thought. So much for appealing to self-interest.

  “Dayna,” Galen cautioned, “we have no other options left to speak with the Deliberati. We don’t know for sure that this line of inquiry will lead anywhere.”

  Galen was right, on both counts. There was no firm evidence that any of the three wizards I wanted to track down had any connection here. What did I really have? Circumstantial evidence for Archer’s presence, and a dream vision for the other two.