by M. Gregg Roe
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Books in the Series
Dedication
The Witch's City – A Poem
The Witch's City – A Map
Prologue
1 - ‡ Crime ‡
2 - ‡ Audrey ‡
3 - ‡ Courtesan ‡
4 - ‡ Dragon ‡
5 - ‡ Meddling ‡
6 - ‡ Luck ‡
7 - ‡ Rosalind ‡
8 - ‡ Unexpected ‡
9 - ‡ Conflagration ‡
10 - ‡ Acolyte ‡
11 - ‡ Misfit ‡
12 - ‡ Anxiety ‡
13 - ‡ Friends ‡
14 - ‡ Branwyn ‡
15 - ‡ Restored ‡
16 - ‡ Hanna ‡
17 - ‡ Attraction ‡
18 - ‡ Propositions ‡
19 - ‡ Witches ‡
20 - ‡ Transition ‡
21 - ‡ Priestess ‡
22 - ‡ Demon ‡
23 - ‡ Isadora ‡
24 - ‡ Seamstress ‡
25 - ‡ Questions ‡
26 - ‡ Alive ‡
27 - ‡ Village ‡
28 - ‡ Dating ‡
29 - ‡ Traveling ‡
30 - ‡ Emotions ‡
31 - ‡ Staff ‡
32 - ‡ Succubus ‡
33 - ‡ Bianca ‡
34 - ‡ Valwyn ‡
35 - ‡ Business ‡
36 - ‡ Games ‡
37 - ‡ Exhaustion ‡
38 - ‡ Marilee ‡
39 - ‡ Encounters ‡
40 - ‡ Inflections ‡
41 - ‡ Recruiting ‡
42 - ‡ Children ‡
43 - ‡ Lost ‡
44 - ‡ Pain ‡
45 - ‡ Found ‡
46 - ‡ Knolls ‡
47 - ‡ Tracker ‡
48 - ‡ Metal ‡
49 - ‡ Constructs ‡
50 - ‡ Closure ‡
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Index of Names
About the Author
The Witch’s City
‡ BOOK TWO OF ANDORAN'S REALM ‡
M. Gregg Roe
Text Copyright © 2017 M. Gregg Roe
All rights reserved.
First Edition — August 2017
Revised — September 2017
‡ ANDORAN'S REALM ‡
Book One: Audrey of Farmerton
Book Two: The Witch’s City
— For my mother —
The Witch’s City
The Witch’s City is circular
It’s all inside a wall
It used to have another name
That I cannot recall
The head witch is called Ermizad
And she is very pretty
I really like her bright red hair
And how she rules the city
— Siljan av Sabrina (age 7)
[Notes added below in much better handwriting]
Lucien’s City. Next time ask before you write the poem.
It should be “High Witch”, not “head witch”.
On second thought, it’s cuter this way. Good job!
Prologue
The violent cacophony of the thick tree trunk breaking would certainly have startled any living creature nearby, but the birds, animals, and even most insects had long since fled. Only it and its servants remained, and none of them were truly living. Magic powered them, and aside from itself, controlled them. Because even magic faded over time, their designer had wrought them such that sunlight could sustain and restore. And so it stood atop its conveyance under the noon sun as its servants toiled nearby.
An opportunity had recently arisen to add to its collection—an item long sought. Before, the task had been nearly impossible because the target was too well protected. Its own servants were powerful, but they were unable to enter the steadings of the living without attracting unwelcome attention, and often outright hostility. Its creator had provided it with numerous servants, but the supply was not inexhaustible. The numbers had dwindled over the centuries. It might have been concerned were it capable of feeling emotion, but that was merely another fact to be taken into consideration when planning a collection.
This collection required the use of living allies. It had spent years cultivating such in the Witch’s City, for that is where its target dwelled. A similar and acceptable replacement target had recently moved elsewhere, but not far. The allies could still be utilized, and the alternate target was more accessible. The plan could be revised and made to serve. It would require time, and possibly more of the soft metal that the living held in such high regard. But that was irrelevant. It possessed a large supply of the useless yellow metal and would wait as long as necessary.
The clearing being created might not even be utilized. It was part of the primary plan but not of some of the variant plans that might prove necessary. Living creatures were unpredictable, and so contingencies were created. The clearing was a waypoint, a place for the conveyance to recharge, for its range was no longer great. It didn’t understand why that was so; it simply recognized the fact and took it into account. The clearing might be necessary, so it was being constructed. And local allies were being sought to defend it, even though an attack in such a remote area was improbable.
Targets were to be acquired, analyzed, and then stored. All information was securely transcribed to await retrieval. Their creator had been absent for decades, but that had occurred before. It would continue to collect and analyze as long as it was capable, because that was its one and only purpose.
1
‡ Crime ‡
The mugging was not going as planned. Victims were supposed to look afraid, to turn over their money and other valuables with at most a token protest. They were, in short, supposed to be victims. And they were definitely not supposed to be threatening the person mugging them. But unless he had misheard, that was exactly what had just happened.
Owen always selected his victims and location with care. This victim was a teenage girl who looked to be close to his own age of seventeen. Her clothes were simple—a beige shirt, brown pants, and leather shoes—but were clean and looked to be of decent quality, certainly far better than his own mismatched hand-me-downs. Her shoulder-length, dark brown hair gleamed and was neatly groomed. Her face—pretty in his opinion, with lovely brown eyes—was clean and unblemished. She looked to be neither rich nor poor, which was exactly what he wanted. Rich people would hand over money, but tended to be vindictive. Poor people would fight rather than part with what little money they had. Those in between could afford to lose a little money and were unlikely to seek revenge.
The girl had a sheathed knife on her belt, but many people did. Few of them actually knew how to use it as a weapon, so that hadn’t concerned him. Owen really didn’t know how to knife-fight, but he knew how to act as if he did. And that was just what he was doing, holding his knife in his right hand with the blade aimed at his victim’s heart, maintaining a fierce, determined expression while trying not be distracted by the swelling her breasts made in her shirt. She really was quite good-looking.
The location he had chosen was a narrow alley surrounded by two-story buildings. At this time of the morning, it was poorly-lit, more so because it was overcast. The alley often stank of rotten food and urine, but was a useful shortcut, tempting to those in a hurry. And this girl had definitely been in a hurry, her thoughts clearly elsewhere as she strode rapidly. His sudden appearance in front of her brandishing a knife had obviously startled her.
“What did you say?” asked Owen, beginning to feel worried.
“I said, put awa
y the knife. You don’t know how to use it, and you are not robbing me. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Her voice was calm, and she showed no signs of fear. Furthermore, the way she was standing now was odd. She had turned slightly to angle her right side toward him. Her right foot was somewhat forward, and her left leg back. Both her hands were near her waist, palms inward and fingers tightly closed. It looked like some kind of fighting stance, but not one that Owen had ever seen. There was a school in the Witch’s City called Xlee’s Martial Arts Academy that taught unarmed combat techniques, and he had a bad feeling that he had just accosted one of its students.
“Do you know what happens to unlicensed thieves here?” she continued. Most people would have been looking at the knife, but she was looking directly at him.
“They get arrested?” he answered automatically. She seemed to have taken control of their conversation.
“That’s if the Guard catch them. If Novox catches them, then they end up in the Witchmarsh.”
She had managed to touch upon Owen’s greatest fear. The Witch’s City, bizarrely, had licensed thieves, all of whom worked for a large business known as Novox. They were free to rob anyone who hadn’t bought insurance against theft—insurance that was, of course, sold by Novox. But it was all legal and regulated, and a portion of the insurance premiums went to the government. It was insane in Owen’s opinion, and very inconvenient for people like him that were just trying to get by.
The girl was now scowling and narrowing her eyes, making her much less pretty. “I don’t have time for this,” she complained before things got much worse. She exploded into motion and suddenly his knife was no longer in his hand. And his hand hurt. She had kicked the knife out of it before he could even react. He pulled his right hand back and cradled it with his left, fearing that she had broken his wrist.
He was clearly outclassed and had made a terrible mistake. Owen decided that he would apologize and then beg her to let him go. He really wanted to recover his knife—now lying in some garbage to his left—but getting away without further injury was more important. He was certain that she could easily inflict far more damage if she decided to. He had just opened his mouth when she confused him by stepping backward with a wary look.
“We’ll take it from here.”
The voice had come from directly behind him. He turned and saw his worst nightmare: A blond-haired woman with sharp features and a slim build was walking up, followed by two huge men. All three were wearing mottled gray clothing that blended well with the aged stone of the alley walls. It was Natalia, Novox’s premiere hunter of unlicensed thieves, and Owen knew that his life was over.
♦ ♦ ♦
Natalia faked a friendly smile as she considered how to mollify Audrey. The two of them had never met, but Natalia knew all about her. The girl knew a ridiculous number of important people, so she needed to be careful. It was galling, but without Audrey’s help, Owen might have escaped—the boy could climb walls at amazing speeds. But now, with what looked like a broken wrist, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Thank you for your assistance,” she said to Audrey, who was frowning back at her from some kind of weird fighting stance. “We work for Novox and this boy in an unlicensed thief. He is our responsibility.” Natalia motioned and her two hulking associates moved to either side of Owen and loomed menacingly—their specialty.
Instead of relaxing, Audrey’s frown deepened. “What are you going to do to him?” she demanded.
“First we will take him to Temple of Karth for healing.” Natalia motioned and her henchmen began to gently herd Owen down the alley. She was hoping to impress Audrey with her benevolence, even if it was feigned. “Then he will go to Novox to be processed.”
“Processed?” Audrey repeated. “What does that mean?”
Natalia was finding it difficult to maintain her smile. She just wanted to be rid of the girl. After some thought, she held up both her hands in a placating gesture. “It means interviewed. Evaluated. If he has useful skills, then we might hire him.”
“And if he doesn’t?” It was unquestionably a threat.
Audrey’s tone suddenly reminded Natalia that she had heard that the girl had anger issues. That was bad because Natalia had quite a temper herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might find out just how good Audrey was in combat. The girl wasn’t just some casual student being taught how to fend off an overeager boyfriend; she was being trained in a variety of deadly fighting techniques.
The forced smile was starting to hurt Natalia’s face. “Then he gets a stern warning and we cut him loose. We don’t just kill illegal thieves and dump their bodies in the Witchmarsh.” That was technically true. They were taken out into the marsh still alive and then fed to the alligators one piece at a time. It was more fun that way.
“Okay, but I’m going to check on him. I have a friend that works at Novox, and I’ve met Celebern.”
None of that was a surprise. Despite having come from some pathetic village located gods knew where, Audrey lived with the wealthiest family in the Witch’s City. Celebern, the secretive and sly half-elf that ran Novox, was a good friend of that particular family, and not just because they were major investors.
To Natalia’s relief, Audrey had finally relaxed and was standing normally. “I’m Natalia av Vella, and I know who you are. I assume you mean Saxloc’s friend Hankin. I work with him sometimes.” She was also dating him at present, but why complicate things?
“Do you know anything about that warehouse job they did earlier this year?” asked Audrey unexpectedly.
“Yes. I was there too. What about it?”
“Nobody will tell me. I want to know about the flour incident.”
Audrey looked eager to know and was now acting as if the two of them were friends, which they definitely weren’t. But there was no choice but to tell her. “Hankin was fighting some kind of invisible creature,” Natalia began. “Siljan found some bags of flour and decided to help.”
“To make it visible,” said Audrey, nodding. “That’s clever.”
“Yes, but by the time she got there, Hankin had gotten lucky and killed it. Siljan knew that, but she threw the flour anyway.” Audrey laughed, and Natalia smiled in reply. “Hankin claims that Siljan still carries around a bag of flour.”
“Knowing her, she probably does. It was nice to meet you, Natalia. And I will be checking up on …”
“Owen. It was nice to meet you too,” Natalia lied.
“Okay. I’ve got to go.”
Natalia waited until Audrey was out of sight before retrieving Owen’s knife. It was better quality than she had expected, but the impact with the wall had ruined it, bending the blade badly. Natalia shook her head and tossed it aside as she headed out of the alley.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hankin wasn’t really sure why Natalia even bothered to knock since she always opened the door to his office and walked in, paying no attention to what he was doing or whether he already had a visitor. In her mind, it was apparently enough that she had knocked first. She closed the door and seated herself in the single wooden chair across from his desk, promptly slouching—another of her irritating habits.
“Yes, Natalia?” he asked, hiding his annoyance at being interrupted. “I hear we have a new recruit.” News traveled fast within Novox, especially embarrassing news.
Natalia glared at him and furrowed her brow. “Yes, because of your friend Audrey being there. Now if he disappears, she’ll be mad. She’ll complain to Saxloc. He’ll tell his parents. Draymund will talk to Celebern, who will fire me. Almera will talk to her good friend High Witch Ermizad, who will then have me thrown into the Witchmarsh.”
Hankin found Natalia’s little tirade amusing, but he didn’t let it show on his face. The young woman’s pride had been wounded, but he knew it was only temporary. She would soon be back out on the streets seeking out more unlicensed thieves.
“It wasn’t like Audrey planned to be mugged by an unlicensed thief,” he
pointed out. “It just happened to be her.”
“Well, it still interfered with my job. Owen is a repeat offender. That would have been it for him. I was looking forward to taking him for a one-way boat ride.”
Hankin didn’t bother to reply. Natalia had a thirst for blood that he didn’t share. That was mirrored by their preferred weapons. He fought with a rapier, while she fought with two long knives.
“I’ve enrolled him in our trainee program,” she said after sighing deeply. “He’s literate, so we can always just make him a clerk.”
She had a point. Novox employed dozens of clerks. All three divisions—Trade, Intelligence, and Insurance—generated large amounts of paperwork. Clerks had to be literate in order to do their jobs, and illiteracy was common. So common, in fact, that Novox actually ran a school to teach prospective employees.
“There’s a new place on the west side that specializes in baked chicken,” Natalia announced, completely changing the subject. “Are you interested?”
“That sounds good. Tonight?”
“Yes.” Natalia stood up. “After work. I’ve got to go finish my report and check on Owen. See you later.”
“Have fun,” he called out as she departed.
He ended up spending the rest of his morning reading through reports. After lunch with his boss Kerwyn and some of his coworkers, he returned to find even more paperwork had been piled on his desk. Later that afternoon, Saxloc stopped by with some surprising news about a business they both frequented. That led to Hankin asking a clerk for even more paperwork. It was just one of those days.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hagen looked despairingly at the piles of paper on his desk. Everyone seemed to think the job of Captain of the Witch’s City Guard was glamorous, but he knew better. He spent far more time at his desk than patrolling the city or commanding his guard force. And when something went wrong, he was the one who had to go see Ermizad personally, to explain or take the blame. Nevertheless, Hagen was proud of the position he had attained, and he rarely complained. He had known exactly what he was getting into when he accepted the position.