“We come in peace as representatives of the Steward of Elizabeth,” he said. “We would like to speak with the mayor, or leader of this abode.”
One tall gnome with grey skin and graying hair stepped up to address him. All around the villagers seemed to be trembling. “Aren’t you Tiberius, the fairy slayer?” the man said.
“I am Tiberius the Magus. I am a Son of Adam, but I’ve never harmed any one, fairy folk or Son of Adam, who wasn’t an outlaw. I am a slayer of the servants of the Dark Master, not of fairies.”
“You come with armed men to our doors. Do you mean to drive us out of our homes?”
“Men are foolish to walk without arms in these times. We have no wish to disturb the residents of this lovely village any more than necessary. Rather we would speak with your mayor about matters of mutual interest and governance,” Tiberius explained.
The gnome looked skeptically at them, but he seemed resigned. “Very well, I’m Mayor McQuartz. Come along and talk if you must.”
He led them inside one of the larger huts. Tiberius and El Gato had to stoop down to enter, but they managed to be comfortably seated around a round wooden table in the center.
Once they were seated, Tiberius continued the talk. “You know, by some curious oversight, your lovely village isn’t on the county books.”
McQuartz scowled. “And whose fault is that, eh? The elves. They give all this land up to the river to the Sons of Adam, never asking so much as a by your leave of my people. Mountain trash, they call us. Never a bit of concern for our feelings.”
“An unfortunate oversight,” El Gato said. “But no harm done, surely?”
“No harm?” the mayor said.
“My good Mayor,” Tiberius explained, “we want to make it clear to you that we are not making war on all fairy folk. We know this continent is the fairy lands and we want the border lands to be a place where the Sons of Adam and the fairy folk can live together in peace. All we want is to place your village on the county books. Even the bogies could stay if they would lay down their arms and advance the Queen’s will.”
“Small chance of that!” the mayor snorted.
“Quite, but we have to offer it,” Tiberius said. As to your people, there might be some issues with regard to back taxes, but we’ve persuaded the senate to declare an amnesty. You’ll have to pay taxes going forward, but I’m not requiring you to do anything I’m not doing myself. It the requirement of every good citizen after all that…”
“Citizens? You’re going to make mountain trash citizens, are you?” the mayor laughed.
“There are no slaves in the Stewardship. You’re born residents here and there is no other requirement that I know of. Of course you would be citizens. Any who choose to peacefully reside under the Queen’s laws can be citizens.”
The mayor stopped laughing. He looked to El Gato. “Is he serious? If we declare our loyalty to the Steward we get to be citizens?”
“The magus doesn’t lie,” El Gato replied.
Tiberius pulled a small Bible out of his pocket and put his hand upon it. “As God is my witness, I’ve been told any fairy folk who pledge their loyalty to the Stewardship are to be treated as full citizens. All property claims will be respected. I will personally stand with any fairy folk in our courts against any who say otherwise.”
The mayor hesitated for a moment. His eyes were wide with astonishment. Then he started trembling. “No … no more mountain trash? We’d actually be citizens?!”
Tiberius nodded. The mayor then leapt over the table and out into the square. “Everyone gather round! We’re all going to be citizens!”
Their were a few moments of astonished whispers as the mayor explained what had happened. Then whole town suddenly burst into a wild celebration. The rest of the day and into the night, the villagers were dancing around in circles overcome with joy. Tiberius, El Gato, and the rest of the Rangers they’d brought with them spent the rest of the night dancing and watching fireworks.
Later that month Tiberius found himself in the main room at Henry’s. He saw Darras was here as well at another table. Tiberius acknowledged him with a nod and proceeded to order dinner. He noted a couple of gnomes walk in. Henry greeted them politely and led them to a table.
“Hey, what’s that mountain trash doing in here?” said a farmer, pointing towards the gnomes.
Tiberius stood up and turned towards the farmer. “Those gentlemen are citizens of the Stewardship. I’ll thank you to remember that.”
The farmer took a step back. “Figures a warlock would take the side of them queer folk.”
From the other table Darras stood up. “He’s on the side of the laws of the Stewardship, sir. Or maybe you don’t remember that part of our charter that says all men are equal under the law.”
The farmer started to reply without looking around. “It says men, not mountain trash, you dolt…” He stopped as he looked around and saw who he was speaking too. His heart nearly went into his throat when he realized he was practically calling out a national jousting champion. “Sorry, sir … M’lord, I meant no offense.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to. It’s the citizens over there,” said Darras.
Henry, the inn owner, walked up to the farmer. “You know, running this place I get a lot of strange folk come though wanting a bit to eat and something to wash the dust out of their throats. I’ve seen elves, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, even a centaur once or twice. And unlike you, Joe, they’ve all paid their bill. So, at least till you’re paid up, maybe you’d like to shut your mouth and quit insulting the paying customers.”
Joe muttered an apology and tried to find some cash for his tab. Darras gave Tiberius a wink and they both went back to dinner.
Later that night Tiberius woke up with a start. His wrist was hurting, that meant danger and plenty of it. The magic rubber bands that he wore were tight and tingling with alarm. He cast a light spell on a candlestick nearby and looked about the room. It seemed very quiet and calm, yet there was an odd breeze.
Then it hit him; his vapor shield was going full force, circulating new fresh air around him, cutting him off from the local air.
Tiberius teleported though the door and slightly to the side of the doorway. Only one person was there and she was in no condition to hinder him. One of Henry’s staff had breathed in the deadly fumes and fallen. Tiberius summoned a small air elemental, and gave it order. Quickly the little whirlwind sucked up the gas and flew off into the night.
Thank God Darras had ridden back early. The rest of the hall was unoccupied. Tiberius bent down over the young lady. He might not be too late. Touching a hand to her chest he let off a small spark and suddenly her body gave a start and she started coughing. He sat her up and gave her a drink from one of his healing flasks.
Just then, there was a faint creak down the hallway coming from the steps. Tiberius knew the layout of Henry’s pretty well so he risked a blind teleport down stairs.
Coming up behind them, he saw two men creep up the stairs.
“He must be dead by now,” the first one whispered.
“Maybe we should give him one more just to be sure.”
“We already pumped enough poison gas into his room to kill an elephant. You want to kill the whole house?”
“I don’t know; I hear this wizard can be pretty tough to kill,” said the second man. He pulled out an odd sort of dark glass cylinder with a pump attached. “Maybe just a few more shots?”
A blast of silvery webs suddenly wrapped around the man, tying the cylinder to his body and rendering it useless.
“Bloody hell, he’s alive!” exclaimed the first man. He dodged the magus’ force bolt, only because he managed to slip and fall down the staircase. Trying to run for the door, he made the mistake of getting within quarterstaff range of Tiberius, who sent him crashing to the ground with a well aimed strike.
A moment later Henry came out wearing a nightgown and holding a stout club.
“What the bl
azes?!”
“Sorry, Henry, just a couple of blokes trying to kill me. I didn’t mean to disturb your repose,” Tiberius explained.
“You aren’t human!” exclaimed the bound assassin. “You should be dead; we filled your room with poison!”
“Well, that’s a nice little admission,” Henry said. “I ought to string you up right here for trying to kill folks in my tavern.”
“Mary got a whiff, but she’ll be all right in the morning; I got to her in time,” Tiberius explained. “She’ll probably need a day or two of rest, though.”
“Praise God it’s no worse than that,” Henry said.
“We’ll need to lock these men up for the night I’m afraid,” Tiberius said.
“As to that, I’ve just the spot over the stables.”
∴
A week later, Tiberius and El Gato were entering a small café in the town of Vonair. As he entered the inn, three things seemed to happen at once. Tiberius’ wrist pinched sharply, a warning of danger. Then there was the blur. Then a man emerged from the shadows. This was true invisibility, not stealth. Tiberius and the man struck almost together. The assassin went flying backwards across a table but not before Tiberius had felt something slam into his chest, hard.
The man was slow to get up, so Ti’s first response was to cast true seeing on himself to spot other invisible foes. The man had been alone though. Something was wrong, though; he wasn’t pressing the attack.
The assassin staggered up, clutching his arm. Tiberius realized he was staring at his dagger and then back at him.
“It failed,” the assassin said, looking down at his dagger in astonishment; or, rather, he looked at what was left of his dagger. The blade had shattered. Apparently fragments of the shattered blade had cut his own arm. The dagger had been something special. It must have tripped the prismatic shield; an ordinary dagger would never do that. The assassin staggered against the table, still looking at Tiberius in amazement.
“They can’t fail,” he said.
“First time for everything,” Tiberius replied.
The assassin, apparently in considerable pain, sank to one knee, but he managed to give a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Failure is death,” he said. Weakly raising the hilt of the shattered dagger he gave a salute to Tiberius. “In death I salute you, warrior.”
With that, the assassin crumpled over and breathed his last. El Gato cautiously approached the body. Taking a handkerchief out and using a gloved hand, he gingerly gripped the hilt of the dagger.
“Madre de Dios. This man was one of the Assassins of Kor. I saw one of these hilts once before. That man didn't survive the attempt,” he said. “Someone wants you dead very badly. Are you sure you weren’t injured? They use golden blades of the darkest magic. The poison from these blades is the deadliest.” He cast a worried glance back at Tiberius. “No cuts at all; are you sure?”
“Relax, I’m sure. If I’d been poisoned I’d be like him now, wouldn’t I?” Tiberius explained.
“I don’t know; you might have ways of slowing poisons,” El Gato said.
“Funny, I wouldn’t have thought that a dagger would trip the prismatic shield,” Tiberius said aloud.
“That was no ordinary dagger. They say no one survives the thrust of the Assassins of Kor. I thought nothing could stop one. What’s a prismatic shield?”
“New magical protections this year. I’m taking your advice and trying a layered defense matrix.”
“I guess that explains why you're alive. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” El Gato said. He took the dagger and carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief. “We’ll clean it then mount it on the town bulletin board where everyone can see it. When word gets out you survived one of the Assassins of Kor's golden daggers, that will cut down on these assassination attempts.”
“The goblin queen will try something else. This country won’t be safe till she’s gone,” Tiberius said.
“She was willing to shell out for one of these assassins; she must be getting pretty desperate. I’d love to see the look on her face when she learns they failed.”
Back at Vonair, Lord Brandon shook his head reading the report. “Assassins of Kor, eh? You’re having a big impact here, Tiberius. Some people don’t like that.”
“I know; this is getting ridiculous,” Tiberius answered.
“Not to them,” Lord Brandon replied. “I don’t think the Assassins of Kor will try again, not right away. Much as they’d like to finish a job they started, that knife is their best shot and they’ve already got one dead assassin. Leaving bodies around isn’t their style, especially not one of their own. From what I’ve heard of them, their assassin saluting you will have some weight. I think we can expect the queen to try something different.” He looked up and studied Tiberius.
“You’re looking a little tired; why don’t you take a couple of days off? We’ll likely have a couple of days before we see her next move. Take a rest while it’s quiet. You’ve got some more pay coming; they approved our salvage claim from those trolls.”
“Where can I spend it around here?” Tiberius said. “Vonair is a nice little fishing village, but the cultural side is a little lacking.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Lord Brandon laughed. “The entertainment here is a bit sparse unless you’re into drinking and whoring. I wish we had a bit more culture for the men too, actually.”
“I wonder…” Tiberius said thoughtfully. “You mind if I pop down to Walsingham for a couple of days? I wonder if I couldn’t round up a bit of culture for us. Summer theater season is winding down there; there should be some actors looking for work.”
“That’s a good idea. Give it your best shot; you’ve more than earned it. If they want an escort we’ll give it to them. My wife’s orders, if no other reason,” Lord Brandon replied.
∴
Tiberius took the coast road down to Walsingham and for a change managed to arrive without any really interesting adventures. He had a nice dinner in a waterfront restaurant overlooking the river and had a quiet night’s sleep for a change. After that, he spent a day or so looking into the theater in Walsingham. On the third day he found what he was looking for.
They weren’t the greatest company of players he’d seen, but they were competent and had a good repertoire. They were also a bit down on their luck.
Backstage was a small cluster of wagons. A dejected group of the players was relaxing around a small campfire after the evening's performance. Some of the younger members of the troop were still passing around the cup to the audience in hopes of collecting a few more coins. The chief of the players sat with a ledger on his knees, trying to figure out how he could keep the company going.
“How does it look?” asked Marissa, who had just finished her role as Helena in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“You’d think a town like this would have more appreciation for culture,” the chief said.
“Does this mean we don’t get paid? Again?” Leonardo said skeptically.
“Acting isn’t a profession one does for money,” said the chief. “It’s a matter of the arts."
“No pay,” sighed Leonardo.
“I’ve got to eat, boss,” implored one of the girls.
The director put on his best fatherly manner addressing one of his young company. “Too much food isn’t good for the figure. Mind you, it wouldn’t hurt to try to cultivate a few more patrons. If you were just a bit nicer to that gentleman the other night…”
“Gentleman? He ain’t no gentleman, I can tell you that…”
“He’s a patron of the arts, isn’t he? He paid in silver. A little attention and we’ll get some gold out of him.”
She laughed at her director. “I don’t think it’s the arts he’s after. I ain’t no whore, love.”
The director frowned. “No, no one is asking you to do anything … improper with the gentleman. But times are tough around here and it might not hurt to be a bit nicer to him, is all. If you could just persuad
e him to be a bit more of a patron …”
“He’ll take a lot of persuading before he coughs up any more for us, let me tell you. Serve you right if I did just run off with him. If he didn’t have such bad breath and manners I might…”
The night’s Cobweb had just burst into the assembly. She was excitedly holding some coins out of the players cup she’d been passing around the crowd. “You see this? It’s gold!”
“Gold? You’re daft; who’d put gold in a player’s cup?” said the astonished director.
“Look for yourself!” she said, holding out the coins.
The director examined them carefully but they appeared quite genuine.
“Blimey!” The chief leapt up in excitement.
The other players gathered around with interest.
“Looks like we might get paid after all,” said Leonardo. His financial instincts awakened, he took his young actress by the arm. “Who did this? Did you get a name?”
“Tall fellow dressed in black. Dangerous looking chap. Sort of gave me the creeps at first to look at him, but he’s polite enough.”
“Did you ask him round for a drink?” the director asked.
“I didn’t need to. He asked me when he could see you.”
“Who is he, do you suppose?” asked Leonardo.
“I don’t know, but he’s better looking than that fat slug you wanted me to be nice to.”
“Here he comes!”
Tiberius walked up the campsite, knocking on the side of a wagon.
“Excuse me, I was told I could find the director of this company here?”
The director puffed himself up a bit, trying to look friendly and businesslike but not desperate. “That would be me. And you are?”
“I’m Doctor Tiberius Fuller; I’m a scout with the Rangers up north at Vonair.”
“The Tiberius? The wizard everyone’s talking about? The one who’s been terrorizing the goblins?” Leonardo asked.
Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) Page 30