Lotte sighed as the guildhall fell into silence, awaiting her response. “We don’t know anything for sure,” she said. “And there’s nothing we can do about this now. The king has heard our side. If we continue to agitate, we could all end up like Frond.”
Suddenly the guildhall was filled with dozens of shouting voices—some demanding action, some urging prudence. Others simply shouted. Lotte’s voice was swallowed up in the chaos.
Zed was dumbfounded. Makiva truly was a witch? He brought his fingers nervously to the elven chain tucked under his tunic. For years people had been saying as much about the charm seller, though no one actually believed it. There hadn’t been a real witch or warlock in the city for decades.
Except…
Except Zed knew something the others didn’t. Something he’d been keeping to himself. It was time to come clean.
About everything.
He turned to Brock and Liza, and was surprised to find Micah standing just behind them. Brock was watching Lotte with a strange expression on his face. He looked anxious and fidgety.
“I need to talk to you guys about something,” Zed said. “But…only you. For now.”
Liza looked around the crowded room. “Let’s go back to the apprentice quarters,” she suggested.
Zed nodded.
“We can meet in Jett’s room,” he said. “I want him there for this.”
Jett looked confused.
“Um?” he said.
“Hey,” said Micah, nodding to the dwarf. “How’s it going?”
Zed wasn’t thrilled that Micah had followed them to Jett’s room, but he also didn’t have the courage to tell him to leave. Micah would probably discover the truth before long anyway.
Jett frowned at Micah from his bed. Then he glanced toward Zed and the others. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Don’t look at me,” said Brock. “I stopped paying attention hours ago.”
Zed sighed. Once, when he was younger, he’d been stung by a bee while out playing in the streets. His friends had crowded around him that day, watching the welt on his arm swell and redden.
“You’ve got to scrape it out, or you’ll release more venom,” one girl had said.
“No!” a boy countered. “You’re supposed to squeeze the stinger and pull, or the barb will scratch you.”
Zed had sat there, paralyzed with indecision, until his mother finally found him an hour later. With quick efficiency she removed the stinger—Zed didn’t even see how—and scolded him for leaving it in so long.
“It doesn’t matter how you get it out, Zed,” she’d told him, “just that you do. The longer the poison’s there, the worse it’ll be.”
Zed’s welt had lasted for days.
He glanced over at Jett, who had sacrificed so much for Brock without even a second thought. Why couldn’t Zed do the same for the whole city?
“There’s a warlock in the council.” He blurted it out quickly, before his fear could stop him.
His friends stared at him, stunned.
“That’s not possible,” Brock said quietly.
Zed shook his head, and his eyes fell to the floor. “I’m sure of it.”
“How?” Liza said.
He took a deep breath. “Because I can sense dark magic. It has a…a smell. Hexam says it’s because I’m a sorcerer. I can notice magic without casting a spell. Wizards’ mana comes from Fey—that’s the minty one—but the mana of a witch or warlock is connected to”—his ears began to burn—“to Fie.”
His friends were quiet while this sunk in.
“I know the smell because I’ve sensed it before,” Zed continued. “When we were in the woods on our first day. The magic I cast against the kobolds—the spell inside that staff—it was fiendish magic.
“I didn’t know until after,” he added weakly.
Zed’s hands were slick with sweat. He paused, waiting for someone to say something, but the silence stretched on.
It was Micah who finally broke it. “Really dramatic,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Now get on with it.”
Zed looked up, shocked. His friends were waiting for him expectantly. He’d anticipated reactions more like Jayna’s, but no one seemed especially disturbed by his confession.
“I’m telling you I used dark magic!” Zed said. “On accident, but still…”
Brock shook his head. “I’m more surprised you managed to keep a secret for this long. What’s it been, two days? This might be a new record.”
“Zed,” Jett spoke up from the bed. “You’re saying that you sensed dark magic from someone in the council?”
Zed nodded. “It was after Frond was arrested. I couldn’t tell who it was coming from, but I definitely smelled sulfur. Hexam says that’s the scent of Fie.”
“But what does this mean?” Liza asked.
Zed shook his head. “I don’t know. But if someone in the council really did betray us, then maybe it’s related.”
“It’s even worse than that.”
The door to Jett’s room creaked open. Zed swung around to find Jayna watching them from outside.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tucking nervously into the room and closing the door behind her. “But I saw you all leaving together, and…”
She looked over to Zed, and this time when their eyes met, she didn’t look away.
“A witch or warlock would be capable of corrupting the wards,” she said. “If they had access to the city’s focus. Since the energies of Fie and Fey are like oil and water, fiendish magic could be used to crowd out the mana put there by the Mages Guild. If it were done slowly, the Silverglows wouldn’t have any idea it was happening until it was too late. Then, with the two types of mana warring inside, the focus would be weakened enough to destroy completely—like the one you found.”
“This is crazy,” Brock said, shaking his head. “No one on the council would mess with the wards. Who even could do it?”
“Grima has access to the focus chamber,” Jayna said. “But so does everyone else on the king’s council, in case of emergencies. Apprentice mages meet the whole council down there as part of our yearly inauguration. King Freestone gives a speech.”
Brock glanced at Zed. “Well, you missed the focus chamber, but you also got to skip the speech. That’s one upside to getting drafted.”
“And the truth is that anyone can become a warlock,” Jayna added darkly. “Which is exactly why the Mages Guild restricts arcane knowledge from the public. All it takes is a pact with a patron, usually a powerful fiend or another warlock.”
Brock’s smirk fell, and his eyes found Zed’s once more. “You haven’t accidentally made any pacts…right?”
“No!” Zed answered hurriedly.
“A sorcerer’s magic is innate,” said Jayna. “Which is why Zed could use that wicked staff. He’d need a real patron to cast warlock spells of his own.”
“How do you know all this?” Jett asked from the bed.
“These are the basics of a mage’s education,” Jayna said, turning to him. “Or at least they should be. The wards, the focus, the perils of dark magic—every apprentice is taught this much in her first month.”
“We have to tell Hexam about this,” Liza said. “King Freestone needs to be warned.”
Zed frowned. “The king could be the warlock, though,” he said. “As crazy as that sounds, he was with the rest of the council. We can’t rule him out.”
“There is no possible way that the King of Freestone is a warlock,” Liza said. “It’s got to be Grima. She barely seemed to care that the wards were failing.”
Jayna bristled. “The archmagus hates dark magic,” she said. “The first lecture she gives to new mages is a warning against it.”
“All the better to throw suspicion away from her,” Liza said.
“It’s probably Brenner,” Micah piped up, scrunching his nose. “The hag.”
“The truth is we don’t know who it is,” Jett interrupted. “And if we tell Hexam and
he goes to the king without proof, he might end up like Frond—or worse, if the witch or warlock decides he’s a threat.”
Liza sighed and threw up her hands. “So what do we do?”
Jayna shuffled from foot to foot. “Well,” she said. “That’s the thing. I know where the focus is. If we saw who was corrupting the wards, we’d know who to accuse. I can’t get us into the chamber without a key, though. The door is locked from the outside.”
Liza turned to Zed. “But not from the inside?” she asked.
Zed slowly realized what Liza meant. “If there’s a keyhole to see through, I could elf-step inside the door, then open it,” he said. “We could hide out and see who the traitor is.”
“What?” Brock yelped. “No. Zed, come on. That’s crazy. Even if all of this is true, there could be more to it that we aren’t seeing. If we get caught—”
“Then we’re just a bunch of dumb kids who snuck out,” Liza said. “Better we end up in trouble than Hexam, or the whole guild.”
Brock’s eyes widened. “Not better for us!” he said. “These are our lives!” He glanced from Liza to Zed. “Please, Zed. Let’s just wait until this lockdown blows over. I’m sure that…someone will help us once they can actually listen to your story. We just have to be patient.”
Zed frowned at his friend. “We may not have time to wait,” he said. “What if the wards fail before we’re freed? What if nobody listens, or we tell the wrong person? Liza’s right. This is the best way.”
Brock was silent after that, but it felt as if his eyes were burning a hole into Zed. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how.
“You were right in the yard,” Liza said gently, placing her hand on Brock’s arm. “Frond would stop at nothing to protect this city. How can we do any less?”
Brock coughed out a hard, humorless laugh, then glared down at his feet. He took a long, deep breath. In and out. When he looked back up, his expression was resolved.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’m going, too. No more solo trips into danger.”
“Me, too,” said Liza. “And we’ll need Jayna.”
“I’m coming, too,” Micah said.
Everyone turned and looked at the boy.
“What?” he challenged.
“Micah,” Liza sighed. “The more people there are sneaking around, the better chance we have of getting caught.”
“Then leave the merchant kid behind,” Micah seethed. “At least I can heal.”
“We’re not going to a pigeon coop, you know,” Brock said. “The birds might need you elsewhere.”
“I’m telling you, I’m a good healer!”
“Enough,” Liza groaned, raising her hand from Brock’s arm. “Fine, you can come. Just don’t get in the way.”
Jett cleared his throat. Zed and the others turned back to him, and it felt like the room deflated a little.
“I know I can’t go with you,” Jett said with a strained smile. “And that’s all right. But if you do run into trouble, then we need to have a plan, yeah?”
“We should leave tonight,” Liza said, her tone apologetic. “The Stone Sons only sealed the front and side doors, so we might be able to sneak out from the door to the training yard. If we aren’t back by breakfast, Jett, tell Hexam everything. Either we’ve been arrested, or…” She faltered, her eyes flicking to Brock.
“Or the warlock got us,” he finished with a shrug. “And murdered us all.”
“The secret to sneaking out,” Brock said firmly, “is to not look like you’re sneaking out.”
Zed nodded sagely, glanced over his shoulder, and then realized Brock was singling him out. “Me?” he said, pointing to his own chest.
“You,” Brock confirmed.
They’d gathered in the small antechamber that led to the guild’s outdoor training area. Liza and Micah, Jayna and Zed. And Brock…who now found himself sneaking out for the second night in a row. He was counting on a rush of adrenaline to keep him awake, but hoped he wouldn’t find that rush on the business end of a Stone Son’s sword.
Zed looked down at his clothing. He was dressed entirely in black—black cloak, black canvas trousers, black shoelaces in black boots. “I’m going for ‘incognito,’” he explained.
“That’s the problem,” Brock said. “Look, anybody who sees you will know you’re up to something. We should just look casual. Like a bunch of kids out for a walk.”
“Leave him be, Brock,” Liza said. She was lacing up her own boots. “He’s fine. And it’s not like we’ve never snuck out at night before.”
“I haven’t,” Jayna said, raising her hand primly. “My mom always said that any business that can’t take place in the light of day is no business worth doing.” She quailed a bit as the others turned to look at her. “Uh, not that I’m judging anyone. I’m sure any reason you’d have for sneaking out seemed perfectly legitimate at the time. Like now!” She realized her hand was still raised, and she quickly brought it down again.
“Wait, you’ve snuck out before?” Micah asked, his dull eyes suddenly sharp on his sister. “Like, back home? Why would you sneak out? You were Daddy’s princess.”
“Exactly,” Liza said with a note of finality, though Micah didn’t seem satisfied with her response. “A prison with drapes and comfortable chairs is still a prison, Micah.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never seen the inside of a prison,” Brock grumbled.
“Spoken like someone who’s about to see the inside of the healers’ hall!” she countered.
“Oh, for—Can we get on with this?” Micah said.
“Fine,” Brock said, sliding his hostile glare from one sibling to the other. “Just follow my lead, everybody.” He turned, opening the door to the training yard.
Standing just on the other side, blocking their way, was a grim-looking knight.
It struck Brock in that moment just how appropriate the term Stone Son really was. The man’s posture was rigid, the line of his jaw sharp and severe. His arms were crossed, so his rock-hard biceps bulged from beneath his slate-gray tunic. The man looked carved from granite.
His eyes, too, were hard and cold as rock.
“Doors are to remain closed,” he said, but made no move to close it himself. He stood there, absolutely still, expecting to be obeyed without debate.
“But we need your help with something, good knight,” Brock said, and he opened the door wider. Then he took a small object from his pocket and tossed it to the Stone Son, who had to move then, and fumbled a bit as he caught the item by pressing it to his chest.
The knight held the object up to the light. It was a carved figurine of a badger.
“This is Old Makiva’s work,” he said darkly.
“That’s what I thought!” said Brock. “We just found it in the common room. I think…I think she’s inside the guildhall. I think she’s come for us!”
The knight cursed under his breath, then turned to bark orders to any ally in earshot: “On me! Now!” He drew his sword and took a step forward, over the threshold.
“Uh,” said Brock, shuffling out of the way, “the sword’s probably not technically…”
The knight took off, running past them and out the antechamber into the guildhall proper.
“…necessary,” he concluded, and three more Stone Sons ran by.
“Oh, Lotte is not going to like that,” Jayna said.
“Lotte can handle it,” Liza said. “But if they do a sweep of the place, it won’t be long before they realize we’re gone.” She was the first one out the door. “So let’s get gone.”
There weren’t any more Sons in sight of the training yard, and though Brock braced for it, no call went up as they crossed the yard and stepped through the gate to the dirt road beyond.
“Jayna, lead the way,” Liza said. “Let’s walk briskly.”
“So I’m guessing ‘kids on a casual stroll after dark’ is out the window,” Zed put in as he fell into step behind Jayna.
“Right,” Liza said. “But Plan B is fine. Plan B is good.”
“Plan B?” Brock said. “Plan B involved pantsing the guard, actually, but he didn’t seem the bashful type. Plan C was a bribe. ‘Distract everybody with a trinket and then run for it’ is a D plan at best.”
“And where exactly,” grumbled Micah, “did you get that trinket?”
“Oh, Micah,” Liza said. “Please don’t badger him.” She giggled at her own joke, her laughter surprisingly light and carefree, and Brock couldn’t bring himself to shush her for the sake of their mission.
Jayna led them through the winding streets. Though she seemed somewhat unfamiliar with the area, it was easy enough for her to find her way. Their destination was Silverglow Tower, which rose above all of Freestone from the very center of town. The precariously stacked multifamily homes along their route occasionally blocked their view of the tower, but it always reappeared around the next bend.
Brock had long felt more at home in outtown than in his own neighborhood. It was rougher here, true, than where he had been raised. But the rowdy laughter coming from the taverns spoke of warmth and joy and liveliness. He could feel a pulse thrumming in the outtown air, like the night was a living thing he could tame, or try to tame. And he wondered, really wondered for the first time, what he’d be doing right now if he were with the Merchants Guild.
Sleeping, probably. Or staring at ledgers wishing he could sleep.
As they traveled inward, the dirt streets became cobblestone and the ramshackle taverns, lively with voices and music, were replaced by darkened market stalls and then shuttered homes. Rather than bring them directly to the tower, Jayna eventually took a sharp turn down a side alley.
“Aren’t we going to the tower?” Zed asked.
“Yes and no,” she answered. “The focus is beneath the tower, but it would be too obvious to have access to it there. The entrance is in a shop.”
They finally arrived at a small, nondescript building. The sign outside identified it as a chandler’s shop.
“Candles? Really?” Liza said.
“It’s kind of poetic,” Zed said. “Lights in the darkness? Like Freestone itself.”
The Adventurers Guild Page 19