by Tom Lloyd
Almost, anyway, he reflected. I think the book had more flowing robes and magical pendants, less of the gunbelts and stained greatcoat.
While it was impossible to tell if she’d been successful, Toil didn’t ask again. Sitain would mention it if there was a problem. Instead, she just flopped back down. Lynx checked she was okay and received a weak nod, while Atieno gathered up all the guns and cartridge cases he could find to deposit into a canvas bag.
Toil meanwhile stripped off the outer part of the uniform she’d been wearing to reveal her usual clothes and a small bag slung under one arm. From this she removed a metal contraption the length of her arm and put a hand into the open end of it.
‘Time to see if our research and guesswork is correct,’ she commented as she paced out the floor.
‘Has to be,’ Lynx muttered, as much to himself as anyone. ‘They’re clever, not devious, the Knights-Artificer.’
Once she was satisfied with her position, Toil crouched. She nodded briefly. ‘This stone floor’s encouraging,’ she admitted, ‘but we’ll soon find out.’
A bright lance of white flame about a foot long spat out of the object’s far end and she angled it down at the stone floor. The flame was as thin as an icer-shot, but tinged yellow. It hissed and spat as it made contact with the stone, cutting into it with ease. Toil sliced a section away, cutting at angles so it could be removed by Lynx.
Even through a thick pair of gloves Lynx could feel the heat of those edges. He discarded the piece quickly as Toil moved on to the next. It was slow going, but once the first piece was out there was more space for Lynx to get his hands in and lift the chunks. The floor turned out to be thicker than they’d thought, but eventually they broke through to the room below and a dark space was revealed.
‘How are you feeling, Atieno?’ Toil asked, frowning at the hole she’d cut. ‘This is getting slower. I think the magic inside it is running out and neither of you can renew it.’
‘I can enlarge the hole,’ the greying mage said. ‘Do as much as it lasts for and I’ll finish.’
She nodded and cut a long diagonal line from the edge of the hole. That done she started again from the other end to allow Lynx to put his hand in and support the block. When they had cut out another chunk there was only enough room for him to fit his leg in, but the device Toil was using sputtered and died. She gave it an experimental tap then shrugged and set it to one side.
‘Ah well – it’s a Duegar artefact. The fact it bloody works at all is a minor miracle.’
Atieno put a hand on Lynx’s shoulder and knelt with a groan and a pop of the knee. Once settled, he waved Lynx away and bent over the hole, drawing on his magic enough to make them all glow.
The tempest mage brushed his fingers around the inside of the hole. It looked like more of a gentle inspection, but under his touch the stone started to crumble and flake.
‘Fortunately stone doesn’t take much persuading to turn into smaller bits of stone,’ he said with a small laugh.
‘Not now you’re the most powerful of your kind anyway,’ Toil said.
He paused and glanced up at her. ‘There is still a toll,’ Atieno said in a severe tone. ‘My capacity to resist it is greater, but no other tempest mage would even attempt what you ask.’
‘Less complaining, more working,’ she retorted, not even a little abashed.
Atieno looked at her a moment longer then grunted and continued to work away at the stone. Soon the fragments were pattering down to the floor of the room below. Nothing large enough to make a sound and alert the guards, but steady progress all the same. The hole Toil had made was awkward and stepped as she worked in stages downwards, but it meant she’d done most of the work. Atieno only had to contend with the last few inches.
As soon as there was enough space for a person to slip through, Toil gave Sitain a pat on the leg. The night mage blinked dully at her for a moment then seemed to remember what they were doing.
‘Your turn again.’
With Lynx’s help, Sitain lay on the floor and put her head through the hole. As a night mage her vision in the dark was second to none.
‘There’s a cabinet – no wait, several.’
‘Can you see what’s in them?’
‘No, but I can bloody smell them. We’re in the right place.’
Toil grinned. ‘Locks?’
‘Small – reckon you could jemmy them.’
‘Small mercies,’ Atieno muttered, wiping his brow. ‘I’m not sure I’d fit through that gap yet.’
‘Sounds like this is a job for a relic hunter,’ Toil declared, cocking her head at Lynx. ‘Unless you’d prefer to …’
‘Ha ha,’ he said good-naturedly, knowing he’d have no chance of fitting through. ‘Now fuck off into your hole like a good little mouse.’
He anchored a rope while Toil worked her way through the irregular gap and eased herself down to the floor. She wasn’t worried about being totally silent. The vault door between her and the guards outside was thick enough to withstand significant assault.
‘I’m down,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’
Lynx and Atieno peered through the hole. Down in the vault they could see the faint glow of Toil’s Duegar lamp as it cast its strange bluish light around the bare floor. The light was weak and only traced the outline of the room. Still, it was enough to show Lynx that there were large chests on either side of the cabinets – likely the main treasury of Siquil. Given their hosts were some of the foremost metalworkers and artificers in the Riven Kingdom there was probably a fortune in there. This wasn’t their largest city, but it was an important part of their domain. Anywhere that produced as many mage-cartridges as Siquil did was going to be wealthy.
Just as well we didn’t bring the rest of the Cards, Lynx reflected. They might forget we’re after something even more valuable and just grab whatever they can carry.
A grunt and the splintering of wood came from below, indicating Toil had broken the lock on one cabinet. That done, she paused and took a second look at the whole cabinet.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘These ingenious artificers,’ Toil mused. ‘When do they ever avoid the chance to show how clever they are?’
‘You think there’s a trap?’
‘There’s space for one – look. The doors on this cabinet are at the top but there’s a whole lower section with no obvious purpose.’
‘You’ve already broken in though.’
‘I haven’t opened the door.’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t smell right – too easy.’
Toil moved to one side, sliding her hand over the lower section to see what she could feel. Eventually, she came upon something that made her pause then chuckle. She moved a little further then stopped again.
‘Interesting, it’s worked into the design.’
From the side she reached over and opened the cabinet door. There was a sudden flash of movement that Lynx barely caught. It looked like a half-dozen gigantic steel claws flashing out from near ground level. As thick as swords and even longer, they lashed forward and curled up back to head height. If Toil had been anywhere in front of the cabinet she’d have been impaled.
As quickly as they emerged, the claws retracted with a mechanical click. Toil waited a moment longer then chanced a look around inside. The sight made her whistle.
‘They’re there?’
‘Can’t you see?’
Lynx shifted so he could get a better view, then realised what she was talking about. There was a dull glow coming from inside the cabinet – white light that shifted strangely, streaks of yellow and pink drifting over Toil as she stared. The relic hunter didn’t linger for long. All too aware they were pressed for time, she broke the second lock and stepped well clear. A tug opened the other door and more steel claws raked the empty space in front of the cabinet.
Once they had retracted, flickers of green and blue added to the show of lights.
‘Careful!’ Lynx protested a
s Toil started chucking the God Fragments into a small bag.
‘Careful?’ Toil echoed. ‘Of the famously invulnerable shards of the gods themselves? They might look like glowing chunks of crystal, but they ain’t.’
Lynx hesitated. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘Still …’
She stopped and squinted up at them. ‘Mind you, there’s one thing in this life that’s dangerous to a God Fragment, isn’t there, Atieno? Maybe you want to step back when I pass this lot up?’
The ageing mage nodded. By accident he had destroyed the one God Fragment left as a parting gift from Sotorian Bade in the Labyrinth of Jarrazir. It seemed some combination of tempest magic and the willow tattoos linking them to the stone tree meant Atieno could now do the impossible. The Cards were still coming to terms with that fact, given its momentous implications for the entire Riven Kingdom.
‘I think I would need to touch them directly,’ Atieno commented, ‘but let us test it another time.’
He stepped away when Toil tossed the bag up to Lynx. The prize secure, Lynx held the rope tight while Toil climbed back up. She sat on the edge, breathing hard for a few moments before setting about gathering her kit.
‘Stage two,’ Toil ordered, looking at Lynx and Atieno.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Lynx asked.
‘We ain’t forcing them,’ she replied. ‘Just giving them a choice. Who could ask for more’n that in this life?’
‘Still.’
‘Yeah, I know – but we need the diversion. It might smell a bit to your delicate sensibilities, but the mission comes first.’
‘That’s no argument,’ Atieno said.
Toil sighed. ‘The pair of you … I already have a nagging mother, you know? Fine – we’re offering an oppressed people a chance at freedom. Shove that up your moral philosophy and see how it tastes.’
Lynx shook his head but didn’t argue. He fetched the long sack of mage-guns and a dozen cartridge cases. Atieno went to the door at the far end and unlocked it as Toil nudged Sitain up. The night mage groaned but didn’t linger. She went to the door and opened it as gently as she could, peering through the darkness beyond.
‘Looks clear,’ she breathed.
Sitain edged out and checked further off to the right but saw nothing she was unhappy about. They crossed a narrow cobbled strip of courtyard that was too small for anything more than rubbish and a lean-to of split wood. On the other side, however, was a solid gate set into a wall fifteen feet high and topped with jagged protrusions of metal. Simply from the way the metal was angled, it was clear to all that this was intended to keep people in rather than out.
At the gate, Atieno made short work of the lock. Fat flakes of rust blew away in the cold evening breeze as his tempest magic corroded the entire lock housing. At last he was satisfied and they pushed the door open as quietly as they could. Sitain squeaked in surprise as four faces appeared through the gloom, pale and rounded shapes bundled in heavy grey blankets.
‘Who are you?’ an old man asked hoarsely in Jevesh. ‘What is happening?’
‘Friends,’ Lynx replied in the same language, hoping he wasn’t going to have to remember much more than that.
He offered the sack of guns and cartridge cases. The people on the other side stared blankly at him, not moving. As well as the old man there was a middle-aged woman, a teenage boy and a child of no more than five. Lynx couldn’t tell if it was a girl or a boy from what he could see of their face. In his limited experience, there wasn’t really much difference at that age anyway.
The teenager hissed suddenly and lunged forward. Lynx almost punched him, so abrupt was the movement, but he realised the boy was just jerking free of his grandfather’s grip. He grabbed the sack from Lynx and turned with a defiant look, daring the others to argue. They stared a little longer, then the old man reached for the cartridge cases. Behind him, Lynx noticed Toil and turned to see her raise the ring of keys she’d taken. She pointed back towards the outside door they’d entered by and the old man nodded.
The woman looked less sure, but after a few moments with something unspoken between her and the youth, she nodded.
‘Thank you,’ she said in broken Parthish, taking a mage-gun from the sack.
Lynx nodded and they backed away as the woman closed the gate again. Presumably there would be others they would need to discuss it with first, which was fine by him. A head start would be useful on unfamiliar streets when the rest of the company was halfway across the city.
The four Cards retreated into the guardhouse, closing but not locking the doors behind them. They all took greatcoats and hats from the main room in case there were guards looking down from the walls and crossed back to the main door.
‘How does the saying go again?’ Toil said with a soft laugh. ‘Give a man a gun and he’s free for a day? Teach him how to shoot and he’s a mercenary the rest of his short life?’
‘You’ve been hanging around Anatin too long,’ Lynx muttered. ‘That sounds like one of his sayings.’
‘Never let it be said I don’t respect the wisdom of my elders,’ Toil said as she unlocked the door.
Outside the street looked dead quiet. She placed the keys in a prominent position on the floor and took a step out into the weak gaslight. No volleys of gunfire rang out. No squads of troops emerged from the shadows. She gave a nod and shouldered the bag of stolen God Fragments.
‘Let’s go.’
Chapter 3
Lynx led the way through empty streets, mage-gun on his shoulder but greatcoat unbuttoned so he could reach his pistol. Fortunately, they encountered no trouble on the way. Only once did they even have to take a diversion, ducking into a dingy alley as they spotted a genuine Knights-Artificer patrol. Before long they were back at the Clockwork Dragon and bustled inside to the relative warmth within.
‘Success?’ Anatin asked. He had a companionable hand resting on the tavern owner’s shoulder as he admitted them.
‘Yes,’ Toil said. ‘Time to lock the civilians up.’
Koail, the owner, started to protest but the words died at a sharp look from Toil.
‘It’s better for you – less chance they think you were in on it.’ She offered a humourless smile. ‘Less chance I have to burn this place down and leave no witnesses.’
The man shut his mouth with a snap. He ushered his wife and the tavern’s willowy barmaid into the cellar room – easily locked and secure enough that they wouldn’t break out too fast. Once that was done, Toil went to pour herself a drink, aware all the eyes in the room were on her.
‘Well?’ Safir asked eventually.
The Knight of Snow had dressed again, rapier hanging from his belt and mage-gun back in his hands. At his side stood his adopted son, Layir, who had certainly also come from their homeland of Olostir but as a child in Safir’s care. The young man now cut a rakish figure in a leather jacket the colour of old bone emblazoned with his card, the fourteen of Snow.
Toil smiled and knocked back her drink before depositing her bag on the table. She reached inside and pulled out a knuckle-sized chunk of yellowish crystal. Or what looked like crystal anyway. The God Fragment glowed with a very faint inner light, facets not as sharp as cut gemstones but to her eye it was flawless in its own unique way.
As she touched the shard, Toil could feel a change in the air, some sort of faint sound on the edge of hearing. One that didn’t seem to have bothered with her ears. It was low and drawn-out, more like the deep breath of a mountain than any person or beast. Alive in its own way, but barely one she could fathom.
‘How many?’ Safir asked.
She put the fragment down on the table and emptied out the rest of their haul. The room immediately became brighter – to gasps from the Cards, even those who’d seen the hoard recovered from the burned shell of Jarrazir’s arena.
‘Thirty-odd,’ Toil said, pushing her finger through the pile.
All five of the gods were represented, mostly Veraimin and Catrac. She held a hand up as the C
ards instinctively pressed forward. Best no grubby little paws played with their prize, but even Deern seemed reluctant to actually touch the fragments.
As Toil moved them around, those fragments that touched the others seemed to shift and turn of their own volition. It reminded her of magnetic iron she had seen in the past; obeying their own strange and unseen forces. Two of the larger chunks of Catrac clacked together suddenly without being touched. She tapped them and they fell apart again.
‘Is that enough?’
She nodded. ‘For our purposes, easily. In fact …’ Toil picked up one of the smaller pieces and tossed it to Atieno. Startled, the tempest mage juggled it for a moment then held it up in the palm of his fingerless glove, a questioning look on his face.
‘Go on,’ Toil urged. ‘We need to know.’
With a reluctant look, Atieno picked it up between finger and thumb, holding the pinkish fragment up for the room to see. They waited a heartbeat then the fragment seemed to fold in upon itself. It collapsed into dust that briefly sparkled and vanished before it even reached the floor. The few vaguely pious members of the Cards groaned. Foren, the quiet company quartermaster, looked like he was about to be sick. Others craned forward, astonished, but Toil didn’t wait.
‘Sitain, your turn.’
She indicated a piece of Veraimin and Sitain picked it up. She did the same as Atieno, holding it up so the room could see. Even after contact with her skin the tattooed night mage had no effect.
‘Try channelling magic through it,’ someone suggested.
‘No!’ Toil barked, scrambling backwards. ‘Shitting gods, are you mad?’
‘What?’
‘She’ll put us all out! Her power magnified through a God Fragment? The bloody Knights-Artificer will find us come morning – asleep around the evidence we perpetrated the greatest crime they could imagine.’
‘Well, nothing’s happening right now,’ Sitain said after a pause. ‘Maybe this one’s broken.’
Toil laughed at the notion. ‘Yeah, mebbe. Only one way to check,’ she said, nodding towards Atieno.