A light step behind him stilled his thumbs. He drew back his hands, letting the hilts of throwing daggers slip from his wrists into his palms, and slowly glanced over his shoulder. It was that fop, the city mage, the one named Silk.
‘There you are,’ the fellow called from across the roof. ‘Been looking for you.’
The other city mage he’d faced before, Ho, also stepped out from cover, while a Dal Honese woman with a great mane of thick hair rose up from an alley, alighting on the roof. ‘What for?’ Dorin murmured and glanced down to the narrow cobbled way three storeys below, where an enormous giant of a fellow now came shambling out and peered up at him. His toothy grin was bright in the gloom.
Dorin carefully rose to his feet and faced Silk. The fellow adjusted the wide frills on his dark blue silk shirt. ‘Oh, just the matter of a murder.’
‘What of it?’
The mage waggled a finger at him. ‘Can’t have you going round killing people. Not on. We’d like you to come with us peacefully. As you can see, you have no chance.’
‘You don’t really think I’m going to come quietly, do you?’
‘We’d rather you—’
Dorin snapped two throws and the slim blades would have flown true had not the black woman waved at that instant, sending the two missiles awry. As it was, the mage Silk broke off to peer down at his side where his shirt was sliced open. Dorin was gratified to see him pale to a ghostly white. ‘Get the bastard,’ the mage snarled, outraged.
Dorin turned and jumped the alley, but even as he was in the air something slapped him aside and he tumbled, arms flailing, to slam into the brick ledge of the lower roof opposite. He gripped it, winded, his chest screaming its pain. Damned mages.
Heavy steps thumped to the brick roof and the wide frowning mage, Ho, appeared and stared down at him. He took hold of Dorin’s shirts and lifted him on to the roof. The pain was excruciating as Dorin’s torso stabbed into him. Damned mages broke my ribs!
All that lay between him and freedom now was this heavyset mage who held him conveniently at arm’s length. ‘Sorry, old man,’ he murmured, and thrust him in the heart. The hand released him. He fell, almost losing his balance, and ran free to escape.
Something yanked him back by an arm. He turned, and was stunned to see the burly mage still standing – even managing to grip his arm. He stared, absolutely astounded. He could not help but state the obvious: ‘You should be dead.’
The mage pulled the blade from his chest, nodding. ‘Yes, I should be.’ He punched the pommel of the weapon into Dorin’s chest and he collapsed in a sizzling blaze of agony, hugging himself.
Yet he would not give up. He imposed his rigid self-control over the torture of his broken ribs and managed to rise to stagger on. But after only a few steps that formless power took hold of him again and crushed him flat to the roof like an insect.
‘I have him!’ Mara called from the far roof.
Ho lumbered for him once more. The entire area darkened, however, and shadows were now flitting all about like tatters of storm clouds. Ho batted at them and squinted about – he seemed to have lost sight of him. ‘Where is he?’ the big fellow called.
‘I still have him!’ Mara answered.
‘Will someone do something?’ The mage grumbled.
Flames burst to life all about the circumference of the rooftop. Someone yelped in pain and Wu hopped into view batting at his trousers and sleeves. Ho reached out and grasped him by the neck, lifting him from his feet. Dorin strove to throw a weapon but Mara’s grip had him pressed so firmly he found he could not even draw breath. His vision was darkening and a roaring now filled his ears.
The shadows drifted away to nothing and the flames snapped from existence. Ho lumbered to the roof’s edge and held Wu out over the open space. The little mage struggled in Ho’s wide hand. ‘Now let’s not be too hasty . . .’ he gasped.
‘He’ll fall!’ Dorin warned even as Ho opened his grip and Wu slipped from view. ‘No!’ Dorin yelled with the last of his breath. Ho stood peering down and pressing a hand to his chest, rubbing and frowning to himself.
Disbelieving, Dorin managed to drag himself in a crawl to the roof’s lip. He peered down to see the crumpled form of the mage lying twisted amid a pool of blood spreading from his split skull.
He’s faking again, Dorin told himself. He must be. Faking it.
‘It was only two storeys,’ Ho rumbled above his head. ‘Not much of a mage, then.’
It’s false.
Then a dog emerged from the murk, sniffed at the still form, and started lapping up the blood.
Dorin rolled over to peer up at Ho. It’s not – the poor fellow couldn’t fly. He knew that for certain.
Ho drew a short wooden truncheon from his belt and swung at him. He tried desperately to shift his head but Mara still held him in too tight a grip. The baton crashed into his skull and starry darkness swallowed him.
*
He awoke in a dark cell. He immediately felt at his chest and found his ribs had been healed. So, they wanted him alive. Then he remembered, and a great rage swelled over him making him feel all about himself for a weapon – any weapon. But they’d taken everything. All his equipment, all his belts. Even his shoes were gone.
He rested his head back against the cold stone wall. They didn’t have to kill the poor fellow! Still, maybe he wasn’t dead, only badly wounded. Or he’d faked it. But it had seemed so real. How had he done it?
Well, it was of no help to him now. He rose and found on the floor a plate covered by a wooden bowl. Within lay bread and a cold porridge of boiled barley. He ate and banged on the stout wooden door. ‘Hello! Anybody there? Hello?’ After he’d waited a long time footsteps sounded in the hall beyond. ‘Hello?’ he called again.
‘So you are awake,’ a man answered. It was one of the city mages. That fire mage, Smokey. ‘What do you want?’
‘What are you going to do with me?’
‘You will be tried and executed for the murder of Chulalorn the Third.’
‘It was a favour.’
‘Regicide is no joke. The kings of Tali and Unta and all the others are outraged. They demand someone be punished.’
‘Didn’t most of them come to the throne over the bodies of their predecessors?’
‘That’s different. They’re of noble blood. You’re a nobody. A commoner.’
‘Ah! I understand it now. That justifies all they’ve done.’
He heard Smokey’s answering sigh. ‘I didn’t come to debate questions of social justice. Things are as they are. Get comfortable, because you’re going to be here for a while. Representatives are coming from all across the lands. They demand justice be done.’
‘Justice? Don’t make me laugh.’
He heard footsteps walking away. ‘Hello? You hear me? Hello . . .?’ He banged a fist to the door. ‘Bastard!’
He spent time trying the door, but without any of his equipment it was beyond him. He exercised, ate, and slept again. When he next awoke he exercised again. After a long period of stretching, he sat back on the cot of stuffed straw and pondered once more on Wu’s death. Had it truly been real? It had seemed so convincing . . . Yet he’d been taken in by the bastard, what, twice before? Perhaps he should just assume that nothing was as it seemed.
Then it came to him and he sat there chuckling in the dark. The solution. It seemed so obvious now that he’d seen it. ‘Are you there?’ he asked. ‘Because I figured it out.’
The tap of a stick striking stone sounded. Dorin sat up to see the hunched fellow standing in the far corner. ‘Figured it out? It was quite flawless.’
Dorin shook his head, surprised by how . . . well . . . relieved he felt. ‘How did you do it?’
The mage waved the question aside. ‘What tipped you off?’
‘The dog. There are no dogs left in Heng.’
Wu raised a finger, nodding. ‘Ah. And I thought it was such a nice touch.’ He shook his head. ‘Just goes to show – si
mplicity. Don’t get fancy.’
‘But how did you do it? I know you can’t fly.’
The lad shrugged. ‘He didn’t have hold of me in the first place, did he.’
It occurred to Dorin that it might be that when he saw this Dal Hon mage he wasn’t really seeing him. He stood, then frowned, thinking. ‘How long were you going to let me rot? Were you here all this time?’
Wu gave an airy wave of his walking stick. ‘Oh, I checked in once or twice. Just wanted to see if you’d figured it out.’
Dorin wasn’t at all satisfied but knew that was all he was going to get out of the fellow, so he subsided, scowling. ‘So, now what?’
‘Yes. That is the question.’ Wu toyed with the walking stick. ‘I believe we have the edge on most of these five individually. Other than Koroll, whom I suggest we simply avoid. However, Ho’s demonstration troubles me. There is much more to him than meets the eye. You are right – he really should’ve died.’
Dorin sat back on the cot. ‘Ah . . . Well, there’s always Unta.’
‘No, we’re almost there, my friend.’
Dorin shrugged. ‘I really don’t care where I – or we – go.’
‘Exactly! So it might as well be here.’
Dorin frowned, scratching his forehead. ‘I really wonder about your so-called logic here.’
‘Immaterial, my friend. Consider it situational. I am a great admirer of that Talian tradition of philosophy called the Convenience School.’ He tapped a thumb to his lips, squinting in thought. ‘Otherwise known as the Rationalizationists. Very popular among their noble patrons, they are.’
Dorin waved aside the man’s foggy meanderings. ‘What do you propose?’
‘I suggest we look into this Hengan mage. Get to the bottom of things, as it were.’
‘And how do you propose we do that?’
The mage opened wide his rather short arms. ‘Why, right here, of course. You have been brought to the man’s research quarters, conveniently enough.’
Dorin pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘And the cell we are in . . .?’
‘Oh, the door is very secure. Can’t be opened from inside. Quite impossible.’
Dorin let his hand fall. ‘So . . .?’
Wu pointed the stick to the back of the cell. ‘Not so the rear wall.’
‘So . . . you can get in and out?’
‘Yes. Pop in and out.’
‘Not in Shadow, surely? What of the dogs?’
Wu winced. ‘Hounds, please.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing. ‘Think of the border between this realm and Shadow proper as a thick curtain. You can sort of hug the curtain, so to speak. Travel along it without really committing to either. See what I mean?’
Dorin shook his head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Wu looked to the ceiling. ‘The unwashed masses . . . what can one do?’
Dorin crossed his arms and sat back on the cot. ‘You’re saying we’re in Ho’s private section of the catacombs here?’
‘Yes.’
‘The very ones you’ve been trying to enter all this time but claimed they were too well protected?’
Wu made a show of studying his walking stick. ‘What of it?’
‘Did you allow me to be captured so that you could get in?’
Wu pointed to the rear wall. ‘Shall I pop round and let you out, then?’
Dorin studied the fellow through narrowed eyes. ‘Yeah. You do that.’
Wu waved cheerily. ‘Won’t be a mo.’
It was far longer than just a moment before Dorin heard rattling and fussing at the cell door. The struggle continued for some time, followed by cursing and more rattling and banging. Dorin looked to the ceiling and tapped his fingertips on his lap. The banging became a long drawn out screeching as of rusted metal. After that the door began edging open. It gaped wide enough to allow a sweaty Wu to put his head inside. He pointed to the thick door. ‘A touch stiff . . . the damp an’ all . . .’
Dorin slid out past him. ‘Right. All I need now is . . .’ He broke off as Wu held out his baldrics and other gear, including his coils of wire and fine rope.
Wu slapped his hands together. ‘Fine. Good. This way,’ and he motioned Dorin onward.
‘You first.’
Wu pursed his lips. ‘Right.’ He clasped his hands behind his back and ambled off, peering about like a gawking bumpkin.
This section of tunnels consisted of large dressed limestone blocks, vaulted, with sconces holding the occasional torch, most of which had burned out. Wu listened at then tried each door they passed. Most opened on to mundane rooms. One chamber proved to be a library of scrolls and parchment in floor to ceiling nooks. A table was strewn with sheets covered in notes and diagrams.
Wu pushed aside a few sheets while making tisking noises to himself. Dorin leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. Wu raised one sheet. ‘Oh my . . .’ Dorin rolled his eyes. Wu looked to him. ‘If this work was known of, our friend Ho would be run from the continent.’
‘You can understand those scratchings?’
‘The general drift.’
‘Which is?’
‘High Denul. Life researches. But twisted. Corrupted.’
Another chamber was a laboratory of sorts. Boxes lined the walls containing ingredients in powder and leaf form. Tables held large glass bowls and globes. Mice, spiders, and lizards occupied the globes. Bizarrely, on a shelf high along one wall sat a row of crude stringed wooden puppets.
Upon peering up at the puppets Wu’s comment was ‘Oh dear . . .’.
One globe as broad across as a man held a heap of dirt and leaves and sticks. Dorin tapped it, curious as to what sort of creature might live here. Moles, perhaps? He flinched away when a tiny creature hidden amid the leaves and twigs pressed its face against the dirty glass. The thing was shaped like a human in miniature, only twisted and deformed, its face obscenely reminiscent of a baby. It glared at him and bared tiny dagger teeth.
‘A daemon,’ Dorin hissed to Wu.
Wu bustled over to tap the glass. ‘A homunculus.’ He cast a surveying glance round the chamber and nodded to himself. ‘Yes . . . it is all making sense.’
Dorin glared back at the little beast, which stuck out its tongue. ‘Stop making vague knowing sounds. What’s making sense?’
‘Why Ho didn’t die.’ Wu motioned them out. ‘Let’s keep going.’
The vaulted damp tunnel led on to a series of cells such as the one that had held Dorin, but these were far older, and stronger, with doors of solid iron. Wu checked each cell as they passed. They came to a locked door. Wu rattled it then jumped as a gruff voice within bellowed: ‘Lar. Lar!’ Whoever was inside now bashed on the door, which resounded beneath the heavy blows.
Wu gingerly slipped a slim viewing port open and peered inside. He flinched away as the prisoner punched the door. Dorin eyed him. ‘Well?’
The mage was stroking his chin thoughtfully, looking quite impressed.
‘Who – or what – is in there?’
Wu blinked, coming to himself. ‘Ah. Well . . . I suppose you could say that Ho is in there.’
‘What?’
‘Yes. An exact twin. Which means . . .’ He pulled on another door that proved locked as well. He peered in this cell also, and nodded to himself. ‘Amazing.’
Dorin peered in as well but saw nothing as the cell was black as night. ‘I can’t see anything. How can you see?’
Distracted, Wu murmured, ‘Darkness is no impediment to my vision now.’ He tried the door across the way; it too was locked. He looked in then slid shut the viewing port and returned his attention to Dorin. ‘We should go now. It is dangerous to remain.’
‘What? All of a sudden it’s dangerous?’
‘In light of our current understanding of the situation.’
Wu hurried down the tunnel and Dorin, annoyed, kept pace. ‘Perhaps you’d like to share this understanding?’ he whispered, fierce.
Wu waved his walking
stick. ‘Certainly. Ho did not die – it is especially difficult to kill him – because there is more than one Ho.’
Dorin squinted at him, now even more irritated. ‘That’s not an explanation.’
Wu paused, his brows rising. ‘It’s not?’ He shrugged and continued. ‘Very well. Our friend Ho has been a very naughty fellow indeed. He has researched and replicated – with only partial success, it would seem – an ancient and forbidden theurgist ritual. One I have only read of as legend. The ritual of D’ivers. He has split himself into many.’
‘You mean like a twin?’
‘Something even more intimate. True copies. Three at least. Any one of them extremely difficult to kill, having thrice the life-force, so to speak. Beheading or burning is perhaps the only way to be sure of killing these things.’
‘That is . . . a perversion of life.’
‘Exactly. And as is to be expected, the products are flawed. And here they remain, locked away for ever.’
‘Dear gods. Merciless . . .’
‘Quite. Our friend is not to be underestimated.’
Wu led them down smaller side tunnels until they entered low-roofed dusty catacombs that were quite obviously rarely travelled. He slowed his pace here, thoughtfully tapping the head of his walking stick to his chin.
Dorin too was thinking. If the fellow couldn’t be killed then they’d have to subdue him somehow. Tie him up, or chain him. But he was so damned strong. ‘So what do we do, then?’ he asked.
‘If the events of a few days ago proved anything, it is that we are outnumbered. As we are on the streets. I suggest we recruit. I pride myself that I have something of an eye for talent and so I have someone in mind.’
Dorin gave the little fellow a sidelong glance. ‘An eye for talent? You’re not suggesting you recruited me? Because you didn’t.’ Wu just paced along, now humming to himself. ‘Really, that’s not what happened.’ Wu swung his walking stick about, knocking cobwebs aside as he went. Dorin halted. ‘Let’s get this straight.’ Wu continued on up the tunnel. ‘You didn’t!’ Dorin yelled after him, his voice echoing in the passage.
Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 Page 44