by Kris Schnee
Dominic slipped a note to Jakob and Irene, written in deliberately slang-filled and misspelled Baccatan. It essentially said: "We're onto something. Duke's busy and they're leaking hints about this animal thing. A show for us, or mistakes on their part?"
The other Servants gave him a shrug.
Dominic remained thoughtful as the tour guide showed them a "normal" parade of meticulously drilled infantry and crossbowmen, and a warship docked alongside the harbor's merchant ships. Dominic's heart skipped a beat as he looked it over; no, it wasn't their nemesis the Hatchet. It didn't even look immediately ready for battle; the ballistae were being worked over by mechanics. He tried to look calm again and focused on the other vessels. "The commercial ships seem oddly mismatched." Even some of the sails were brilliant gold or deep violet instead of white. Nonstandard.
The soldier who'd been praising the invincible might of his navy turned, apparently startled that Dominic wasn't focused on the military force. "Not really. Suncove men build one style and like dyeing their sails with indigo from Great Oak. There are shipyards in Invictus too, and no two wrights have quite the same design."
"But the approval process must be a mess!" said Jakob. "You'd have designs that sink!"
"Approval...?"
"For the ship designs. Who's overseeing which designs can be built, for quality control?"
The guard gave him a strange expression and quickly turned away. "Let's ask my supervisor." He led them to an older man, and got Jakob to repeat the question. Then, both westerners snickered at them all.
Dominic's cheeks burned. They dared to mock the might of Baccata!
* * *
That evening, the three Servants sprawled again in their room at the inn. "Ugh," said Irene, summarizing nicely. The locals were a bunch of stuck-up, decadent, disorganized barbarians, but they were also too damn rich and well-equipped.
"Now what?" asked Jakob.
Dominic stretched. "We have basic information about their harbor, their troops, and the most obvious internal city defenses and organization, so that's worth taking back to our side. Citizen Hanse might be able to use it. But there's also their hinting reference to this Awakening the Lowly spell. Is it something dangerous -- some kind of hidden army of half-familiars waiting to pounce us -- or just some lie they're using to confuse us?"
Jakob dug out the sheaves of notes they'd managed to get from the seemingly neutral librarian. "I saw part of the spell design before they shooed me away. If the idea is to enhance the mind and will of an animal..." Jakob rattled off some magic theory jargon, impressing Dominic. "It seems plausible, but our histories don't mention our troops getting beaten up by a bird or anything. And I don't understand how a caster could impose their personal Weave links on the target."
Irene frowned. "You know, if they had some kind of better familiar, it would help explain that dolphin sighting, and how the enemy warship got right in front of Seahorse."
Dominic said, "The Keeper of Familiars, back home, said that the best way to get a familiar was to not impose the relationship by force. The Keeper's attitude wasn't what I'd expected to hear from any Servant. This Mithriaic spell is different, but maybe they've hit on a similar concept. And weaponized it."
Jakob turned toward the window and looked out at the moon. His hands pressed hard against the wall. "For me, learning to see magic was something like the end of a labor camp sentence. In Shirker's Noose the punishment never really ends, for things our ancestors did. The greatest feeling I ever had wasn't from a village celebration or a girl. It was the time I'd been in jail for stealing an orange, and they finally let me out. I was six."
Irene said, "What does that have to do with this place?"
Jakob spun and smacked the wall behind him with one fist. "Everything! I want to know if it's possible, now, to raise some beast beyond its station in life by magic. By a kind of magic that doesn't involve ripping into its soul with jagged strands of Weave-stuff and chaining it to you with tearing, beating, punishing, binding! If spellcraft can do that, then we're using it all wrong!"
Dominic re-imagined the nature of the Bind Familiar spell's pattern. Looked at a certain way, it was a deep and intense violation of another living creature's spirit, in the name of doing it a favor and gaining a loyal companion. It wasn't that different from the non-magical act of buying a Bound, actually, and telling yourself it was for their own good. Worse yet, the way Jakob described the process suddenly made him picture his own first clear sight of the Weave: as a fountain of green-lit blood spraying from a man impaled on his own spear. Dominic sat with his mask in his hands, looking at the faintly tarnished brass. Metal that could hide the expression of a saint or a monster. "By the One, this place makes my head hurt."
"We can still try what we came to do," Irene said. She wrote out the rest of her comment for the others to see. "I got a look at the gatehouse. We could make a rope snake up to there, then climb. Any guards will be watching the stairs if they're paying attention."
Dominic answered quietly. "Too risky. We're dealing with an unknown threat. More useful to leave with our heads attached and these in our pockets." He waved a sheaf of notes. "They let slip magical and economic information that a sensible nation wouldn't have let us see. There's even interesting intelligence suggesting unrest in their capital, and knowledge of the Velesians and their other neighbors. Our people can use all this."
Jakob nodded. "He's right. The notes are valuable."
Irene wrote, "But there's a battle to fight."
Jakob wrote back, "Our forces don't look prepared to march on a place like this. Citizen Hanse doesn't know what he's up against. We need to finish finding out all we can, for later use. Not set up an attack that will get our side slaughtered by bears or something."
Irene answered, "But we can turn things around with one quick strike. Hanse will have someone watching the gates right now, waiting."
Dominic shook his head. "We have too much to lose, including the possibility of a follow-up visit. I'm going to sneak out, but only to look for the source of this magic rumor."
"Bah," said Irene. "It's like you don't even want to take this city."
* * *
Dominic went downstairs first to see how the inn was looking. He wore his mask and robe. A few people lingered at the tables, drinking honey-scented beer now that the sun was down. The windows showed a few people still walking around. He bought a drink and overpaid with the strange foreign coins. He asked the innkeeper, "Any objection if I take a walk for a bit? It's a nice night." No obvious reaction from the patrons.
"Eh... Just stay close, will you?"
"Thanks." The street looked mostly clear, just crowded enough that another walker wouldn't draw suspicion. Dominic lifted his mask to take a swig, glanced at the mug, and casually stepped outside.
Something tugged at his robe. Dominic looked over one shoulder to find a boy facing him, with a wooden sword trembling in his hand. The kid said, "I'm not afraid of you!"
The innkeeper rushed forward and scooped the boy up. "Sorry, sir! My son's a little adventurous. You were probably the same way with your parents, I imagine, if you're all the way out here."
Dominic had never known them. He'd been transferred to another village at a young age, like any Bound, and raised by another town. But the adults who'd most cared about him had rarely scolded him except for good reason, and there was Citizen Antoine who'd stood up for him. "I... It's not a problem. Excuse me." He left the inn, a little rattled.
No one objected to him taking a leisurely walk, so the lowest-risk plan was working so far: feign total innocence. Meanwhile, Irene was hanging back in their room, and Jakob was slipping out from a second-floor window to walk around maskless. Dominic fell into step with Jakob at a dark intersection.
"Go?" said Jakob. Dominic nodded and Jakob sauntered off to look around Sir Marion's manor, which they'd only seen in the distance. Dominic's own role was to search elsewhere in the walled city. If the lead about special magic was t
rue, there'd be a menagerie like the one at Temple Island.
Where were these people on the streets going at this hour? He wasn't drawing more than casual stares from them despite his mask. Maybe they assumed he'd been given permission to wander. He explored at random, trying not to stray too far from the tavern. He noticed a man in ragged clothes wobbling along. An open square stood ahead, full of trees. Aha, a park! Maybe there'd be cages here in the green space, on display. It occurred to him that the city tour had taken them around the city's perimeter, skipping this middle region.
The staggering man collapsed into a nest of rags beside a tree, near a mass of grey fur. Dominic backed away so the man wouldn't feel threatened. Then, he realized he was looking at a low fence blocking off most of the dark grove of trees... and that an entire pack of wolves was sleeping there.
Dominic tiptoed around the park, incredulous. The fence only stood waist high. Why would anyone let wolves go without cages? Dominic reached out with his Weave sense.
The light was upon their brows. Though only beasts of the field and forest, secrets gleamed within their eyes like that of a man just woken from a dream. Where these creatures trod, the earth splashed with instants of sunlight. A hint of the coming day rippled along their fur and the air wreathed them in many knots that turned and turned again, in upon themselves and thrusting out to the greater world they were made to behold. His outstretched hand felt gentle resistance in the moonlit breeze, the nudging away of a child who knows too little and must yet learn. Not to toil forever in darkness, but to light a candle and become more real, a true part of the ties between all things.
Something slammed into Dominic's gut, snapping him out of a trance and doubling him over in pain. He leaned against the wolf fence and looked wildly around. Just a blur of emerald Weave light. Branches moved. He looked up in time to see a figure leap from one tree to another. A low whoosh came from amid the leaves. Dominic realized what it meant and ducked to one side an instant before a rock whizzed past him. The fence was wooden. He made a slashing motion next to it and cut several slats free, then flung them into the trees like knives. "Are you man or beast?" he said when he could catch a breath. "Come out!" The wolves were waking.
His second volley of fenceposts caught something. He heard an inhuman screech, a snap of branches and a rustle of leaves. A manlike shape dropped but caught a branch on the way down and swung expertly around it, launching into a flying kick aimed at Dominic. He jumped back and made the stray leaves and twigs on the ground whip up in a blinding spray. There was the familiar outline of a rodent-like creature with a twitching, bushy tail. It landed in a crouch. "Whatever you're doing to them, masked man, stop it!" Its voice sounded like an angry rodent's chitter. Grey fur, a long green tunic rustling in the wind, and clawed hands reaching for a pouch of stones to reload its simple sling.
Dominic raised one arm by instinct to protect his face. "A Velesian! I'm only looking. What's your kind doing here?" He got a magical grip on one of the fallen fence slats, thinking he could stab from behind if need be. Or maybe the wolves would help; one of them was coming closer to inspect the hole in the low fence. He had to get out of here before the noise, quiet though it had been, raised an alarm. "Stand down."
"You say you're not after these wolves?" The slinger noticed one of them sniffing curiously at its legs, and took several nervous steps to one side.
Dominic said, "No! Now put that sling away. You won't get another sneak attack."
"I can tell you're doing a spell. Drop it."
He did. The Velesian's ears flicked backward to catch the sound of the wooden spike dropping. Dominic said, "I suggest we leave the area before anyone else gets the wrong idea."
The creature's pointed, fuzzy ears flicked to one side, and its tail bristled. "Bells? At this hour?"
He didn't hear anything. "Church service in the middle of Sunday night?"
"No, no, human. It's coming from..." It turned. "The city gate!"
Dominic forgot the many questions he had, and swore. "I told her no! We can't -- it's a huge mistake!" He started running in the direction of the gatehouse. He could faintly hear the bells now. Everything was spoiled. The three of them would be caught and horribly killed and the army would march into a city where they'd be fighting to the death against every last person, down to the children with toy swords! There were too many stronghold points to take, too many people in harbor to subdue even besides the warship. And what truly frightened him was that there was no one master he could hold at knife-point to make everyone else surrender. These people were so disorganized that their "King" was only an idea, and they didn't constantly look even to their Duke for direction. Though most didn't have magic, Dominic rated them as like an entire city full of Servants. Then there was the small army of wolves ready to kill his countrymen.
He had to stop his own people's attack!
"What're you doing, Mask?" The squirrel's toeless boots thudded on the pavement behind him.
"Stopping a bloodbath!" People in the distance were running toward the gate too. A bell rang ahead and another behind him, as the church took up the signal. Thousands upon thousands of people would be waking up, asking what was wrong -- and how to serve their King. Asking themselves and getting an immediate answer. The element of surprise was gone already.
A guard with a torch saw Dominic's mask and made the connection. "Treachery!" he said, and drew his hatchet.
Dominic cursed to himself. There was no time to explain. "If you want to protect your city, come with me!" He kept running. Startled, the guard actually followed. And with him along, nobody else got in the way.
"To arms!" the guard shouted at the drunks and pickpockets and whatever else these night-dwellers were. Then at Dominic: "What did you do?" He didn't even question the Velesian tagging along.
"Gate opened. Have to stop the troops!" With any luck they'd have already... well. He found himself wishing that Irene had failed, despite getting far enough that the bells were ringing -- and that'd mean her death. He felt as though he were sinking into the pavement, deeper with each step. Especially once he saw what had already happened.
A squad of Citizen Hanse's stealthiest man had been waiting, probably sprawled like corpses in the grass for most of two days on end. Now, they were inside and battling for control of the gatehouse. The rumble of distant hooves told him the cavalry were rushing toward the open gate. The main infantry wouldn't be far behind. Disaster! Dominic could see already that the defenders were not just the soldiers -- few of them had reached the scene yet -- but half-dressed shopkeepers, clerks and beggars in a desperate brawl to save their home. Maybe the attack would work, he thought for a moment, and Irene had been right. But since the city guard was only now assembling, these people had just begun to fight. There were even women among the people trying to slam and claw and hack their way up the stairs, or standing in the gateway with pikes ready to impale any horse and its rider. Monotonous black-cloaked figures from his homeland fought a living whirl of color and chaos.
He wondered if Irene, the talented and ambitious girl he'd rescued from obscurity, still breathed.
He tried to catch his own breath. "I have authority to make them stand down," he told the guard who'd followed him. "If I can get up there and be heard." The stairs were crowded.
The guard's hatchet menaced Dominic. "Then tell them. Now!"
He glanced at the blade, hardly caring. "They won't listen if I'm your hostage. Nice wooden handle on that thing, by the way." That was mostly a bluff, considering how little force he could exert on something that was mostly iron and not in his hands, but it'd make the guard think twice. He looked at the stone walls and said, "Damn. I didn't bring my rope."
The fuzzy-tailed slinger only stood at about the height of Dominic's chest, but looked confident. "You need something climbed? I'm your girl." Now that she was visible by torchlight, her slender curves were more obvious, much like a human's.
The guard ignored her. He lurched toward the stai
rs and said, "Clear a path! Emergency!" He shoved aside the people on the lower steps and the ones above him made way. Dominic hurried after him.
The Velesian was already on the city wall's walkway by the time the humans had gotten up the stairs. A group of cityfolk were attacking a building that contained the gate controls. Dominic stepped forward and shouted, "Baccatan troops in the gatehouse, stand down! Now! By order of Servant Dominic!"
Some of the soldiers, and the local mob, turned to look at him. His brass mask flashed in the moonlight. Someone below was shouting. "What do I do?" Dominic repeated his order, then risked looking down. Servant Jakob stood there, maskless, repeating himself too. He'd actually been saying, "Was it true?"
The question only confused Dominic for a moment. The recruit from Shirker's Noose had been fascinated by the rumor of the "awakening" spell. If he'd only seen what Dominic had seen, he'd be up here too, trying to stop the killing. Dominic said, "It's true! Wolves here, probably more things elsewhere!"
The slinger said, "You haven't even seen the dolphins, I bet."
"By the One..." said Dominic. Not even the navy would be safe when the Mithraists got more practice with intelligent aquatic scouts, on top of their other tricks. The fighting had to end before it got worse. He pointed at the city mob and bellowed, "Let me through!"
Instead, half a dozen men with fireplace pokers, knives and clubs charged at him. "Idiots!" shouted Dominic. "I'm trying to help you!" He fell back along the wall, while the slinger retreated too. Even the guard with them couldn't dissuade the angry mob. They were looking at a frightening masked man from the enemy side, after all, and another of his kind had just opened the gate.
The distraction he was creating would just make the gatehouse situation worse. The approaching cavalry had become thunder and the city bells clanged. Why couldn't he make these people understand he was here to protect both sides from a pointless slaughter?