by Garon Whited
Casting spells—for mortals—generally involves gathering up as much of the local magical energy as possible in order to shape it into a spell. I do it that way, myself, especially during the day. The wand took over a lot of the work for that purpose. When in use, it drew in magical force, feeding it to the wielder, greatly enhancing the available power for building a spell structure. Used properly, it should also increase the available power for energizing the spell itself.
Further fiddling with it told me it wasn’t a generic item. The thing was crafted by someone as a personal item, attuned and operating only for that person. It didn’t have any booby-traps I could find. It didn’t burn the hand of anyone else. It didn’t explode when a thief touched it—or make the thief explode. It was simply a stick for anyone else.
Hmm. A spell to make a would-be thief explode. I may have to look into that. I may have to make a wand, too. The thing could prove useful. I doubted it would be helpful in low-magic worlds, though. It requires some power to operate, so the higher the magical background, the more effective it is. My contrast, my tendrils can sweep up large areas and scoop up magic wholesale. Then again, in a low-magic world and during the day, it could greatly speed up the process of manually gathering magic to cast automated magic-gathering spells…
The rest of his stuff was only mildly enchanted—keep it clean, keep it mended, keep him warm or cool, the usual—with the exception of his cloak.
Most of the cloaks in this region are more what I’d call capes. They’re light, airy things, for the most part. They’re much more festive and decorative than anything I ever saw in Rethven. They keep the wearer cool and dry, rather than being a wearable sleeping bag. The wizard’s cloak was somewhat longer and heavier than the usual silky thing. It was a plain, almost unadorned grey cloth, sort of a silvery color without the shine. The only ornamentation was of a practical nature. All around the edge, symbols were stitched into it. I recognized most of them as variations on the usual magical ideograms, which made it a lot easier to determine what it did.
Long ago, I asked T’yl about a spell to go through a wall. He offered several options, but the hoop to create an opening was the one I tried. This was similar in some respects. By placing the cloth over a surface, one could step through it and whatever was behind it. Once on the far side, it could be drawn through itself, kind of like turning a garment inside-out.
It’s a clever spell, but it has some issues. It does bad things to whatever you’re trying to go through, for one. For another, I’m not sure it’s powerful enough to go through a real castle’s wall. How far it penetrates is difficult to gauge without testing. Three feet? Ten feet? It would work fine for most of the city walls I’ve seen around here, I suppose. But if the wall is too thick, I’d be worried about becoming intermixed and phased into the substance of whatever you fail to go through.
Icky.
Okay. I still don’t know the whole story, but I’m guessing the wizard came up to the far side of the tower, used the magic cloak to go through the wall, didn’t like the idea of opening the dungeon door, used the cloak to go downstairs, and, presumably, found a way to use it to get the prisoners out of the wall. I’m not sure how that would work, exactly, but he did get them out. Then it was a matter of slapping the cloak—it clings, obviously—to the underside of the dungeon door, leading everyone up, repeating the process on the wall again, and heading into the woods.
Somewhere in there, he either stole a horse or brought one with him. Then he stole the newest cart he could find—or the one not currently in use? Probably the latter. It’s mine; I ordered it made special. Nobody was going to haul rocks in it, and nobody was going to even imagine someone would steal it. It was probably a simple matter to walk off with it, especially if the wizard knew a Somebody Else’s Problem spell.
I’m fuzzy on his entry to the valley, on his exit strategy, and on his motives. And I assume he was working for House Sarcana, but I don’t know for certain.
I didn’t eat him, so I guess I should ask him.
Leisel opened the trapdoor to the workroom, stuck her head up, and went right back down again. I heard her talking, but I couldn’t spare the attention. I was busy with the corpse of a wizard, a magic wand, and an elaborate summoning and containment diagram. After a time, she came up into the workroom, quietly, and gently closed the trapdoor so as not to disturb me. She waited while I finished the segment I was working on. At last, I sat back from the final ideogram and leaned against the wall.
“Whew.”
“Busy?”
“Not now.”
She eyed the corpse, all laid out like the Vitruvian Man, still with the arrows in him.
“I’m going to ask. I’m not sure I should, but I’m going to.”
“I understand.”
“What’s the deal with the dead guy?”
“I don’t know much about him, but I’m about to call up his ghost and quiz it.”
“Uh…”
“Hmm?”
“You’re going to summon his soul back from the realms of the spirit, interrupt his purifying journey, and force him to answer questions about the material world?”
“Anything would sound crazy in that tone of voice.”
She was silent for several seconds, considering.
“Is it safe?”
“For who?”
“For spectators.”
“Probably.”
“How about for you?”
“Probably.”
“I’m not comforted.”
“I’d rather tell you the truth than lie to make you feel better.”
“Hmm. I think that is comforting. In a way.”
“There you go. Do you want to stay and help me ask questions?”
“Do I have to actually do anything?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
I drew another of the lesser circles, where the conjuror or an assistant might stand, walking her through the process while assuring her she didn’t need to know it.
“Someday, maybe, but it’s a learning experience to see the basic circle preparation. We’ll go over it in detail when you get so far in your lessons.”
“Good to know.”
With the preparations complete, I flicked some of the corpse’s blood into a brazier. The smoke rose, slowly filling the major circle. I spoke the words, calling back the departed spirit. I didn’t know his name, but I did have his corpse and the attuned wand. Either would have been sufficient to adequately target my summoning.
The smoke thickened, darkened. A face slowly formed in it. Smaller roils of smoke formed smaller faces, perhaps a dozen, all moving randomly about the larger, central face.
“Who calls me from my journey?”
“One with the power to compel your presence,” I answered. There was no way I was giving this entity my name. “Speak! Who are you?”
“I am Jidrash, of the wizard’s chain of Nykos.”
“What is a wizard’s chain?”
“Nykos was the first. When his time came to die, he passed on his knowledge to his greatest pupil, Tamon. Tamon passed on his knowledge to Galor. Galor passed on his knowledge to Hasphalon. Hasphalon passed—”
“Enough! I see your predecessors in the smoke. Are their spirits also summoned?”
“They are the echoes of those who came before.”
“Interesting. Do their spirits move on to purification and reincarnation, or are the subsumed into you?”
“They remain.”
“The priests must love that.”
The spirit of Jidrash and his predecessors remained silent.
“Ah! I didn’t ask a question. Sorry about that. How do the priests view this process of passing on directly into a successor?”
“I do not know.”
“Wait, better question,” I decided. “Do they know wizards do this?”
“I do not know.”
“Speculate.”
“They do not.”
“Why do you think this?”
The spirit gnashed immaterial teeth, but replied.
“If they knew, they would attempt to stop it.”
“Good to know. Now, Jidrash, back to the main topic, here. Who did you work for when you came to my valley?”
“Lokar of Sarcana.”
“What was your mission?”
“To seek the source of your wealth and obtain what I could of it.”
“Yet, you stole my prisoners. Why?”
“I could not find your gold, so I took what you might use for ransom.”
“How did you get into the valley?”
“I rode to your bridge, left my horse, and went the rest of the way on foot.”
“How did you intend to get out?”
“Cloud the sight of your guards and use my Cape of Passage to move all my prizes through the wood of your gate.”
I glanced at Leisel. She tapped her lips, thinking.
“Do I ask it or ask you?” she whispered.
“Ask me.”
“Does he know why Naskarl—no, better question. Why is there a vendetta by Sarcana?”
“Why does House Sarcana have a vendetta with House Lucard?” I asked.
“Naskarl desires the woman, Renata, and the child growing within her.”
“Why?”
“The child will inherit the House.”
“What about… what’s her name? The concubine or wife or whatever who conceived Palan’s child shortly before his death?”
“Nironda is barren. She will never bear a child.”
Leisel’s eyes widened and I looked a question at her.
“If Nironda can’t conceive, why the rumor about it? Why say she could? Or did?”
I repeated the questions to the spirit. Personally, I thought the idea of secluding Nironda and Renata until well after the baby was born was gaining traction. If the wizards’ ghost would confirm it, great. Unfortunately…
“I do not know. It was not important to my mission.”
“All right. Your mission was to steal what you could of my fortune. Where does House Sarcana keep its vault? Where’s the big pile of money?”
“The estate in Sarashda is the place of wealth. What money Sarcana has is kept there.”
“Where in the estate?”
“I do not know.”
“Fine. How is the house defended against scrying?”
“A gem of nine facets sits in the center of the estate, enchanted to block all sight.”
“How might it be bypassed?”
“It can be destroyed. It can be placed in a container to block its emanations. Its enchantment can be broken.”
“How might one break the enchantment?”
“As with any other, touch it and work its undoing.”
“Fat lot of help you are.”
“I am compelled to obedience, not to helpfulness.”
I looked another question at Leisel. She frowned and shook her head. I was about to dismiss the spirit when an earlier thought struck me.
“Who is Lokar of Sarcana?”
“He is a hireling of Kellonol.”
“Wait. Is he a member of the family or does he work for them?”
“Lokar is a wizard employed by Sarcana, hence he is Lokar of Sarcana.
“Why did he do the hiring instead of Kellonol or Naskarl?”
“I do not know.”
“Speculate.”
“Perhaps because Kellonol has other duties.”
“Continue.”
“Perhaps because Naskarl has other matters to attend.”
“Continue.”
“Perhaps because Kellonol fears you.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
“Speculate.”
“You are a warrior and a wizard. This should not be.”
“So I’ve heard. Does he think I’m a returned soul, enlightened from beyond the world?”
“I do not know what he thinks.”
“But you think he fears me?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Elaborate.”
“I know he fears you.”
Leisel cocked her head and interrupted.
“Hold on. Didn’t it just say Kellonol might fear you?”
“No. He’s a bound spirit and he’s compelled to answer. As he mentioned, he’s not compelled to be helpful. I forced him to speculate, which means he gave us some possibilities—‘perhaps,’ remember? And he doesn’t think Kellonol fears me, so he answered ‘no’ to that question. He knows Kellonol fears me. Technicalities. See?”
“I think I understand. Does he know why Kellonol fears you?”
“I already—no, actually, I didn’t ask. You. Jidrash. Why does Kellonol fear me?”
“You are a new House, outside the machinations of the House Sarcana and the debts it has gathered.”
“Elaborate on these debts.”
“I cannot. I do not know more.”
“Just to be sure, do you know any other reasons Kellonol has for fearing me?”
The lips of the smoky face twisted in a grimace.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“You are an entity of power.”
“What does that mean?”
“It is what Kellonol has said.”
“What kind of entity, then?”
“I do not know.”
“Does Kellonol?”
“I do not know.”
“Who does?”
“You.”
“Anyone else?”
“I do not know.”
I relaxed a little and turned to Leisel again.
“Any thoughts?”
“No. I’m satisfied.”
I spoke the words to banish the spirit, returning it to the place from whence it came. It bothered me considerably to find the smoke sucked itself down into the wand.
Normally, at this point, one breaks the major circle to see if anything comes screaming out. The lesser circles, for the conjuror and any assistants, remain to protect them until they can get a handle on any leftover angry spirit. This time, however, I didn’t want to let anything out by accident. It might be a spirit bound to the wand due to the attunement, or it might be taking advantage of the attunement to avoid being banished. Either way, breaking the major circle would, potentially, let it escape into the world—or attack.
I let myself and Leisel out of our minor circles, instead. I reinforced the major circle before we went to the bedroom to talk. It didn’t seem wise to discuss matters in front of what might be a prisoner.
“Well,” she began, “at least we know what they were trying to do.”
“Yeah. They don’t know I grab gold out of nowhere. They think if they swipe my money, I don’t pay anyone, and the thriving little community we have has to be instantly self-supporting… or dry up and blow away.”
“I’m sure the mines would keep going. I’m not so sure about the village, though.”
“It still shoots down my base of operations if I can’t pay my warriors.”
“True.”
“Which brings me to another question. How much do you know about House Sarcana’s business dealings?”
“Their business dealings?”
“Yes. What do they own? Farms? Shops? Ships? What?”
“I’m not sure. I can find out, though.”
“Maybe we should. If they’re so concerned about my money, they may be projecting.”
“Projecting?”
“Their chief concern might be how to fund this vendetta. Stealing my money would weaken me and strengthen them. If we reverse it by stealing their money, it may be a more serious blow than they can take.”
“Aha. Right.”
“Another thing,” I continued. “The spirit mentioned something about House Sarcana and the debts it’s gathered. Either Kellonol or Lokar mentioned something to it about the subject, but didn’t give details. Any idea what th
ese debts might be?”
“I do not know, but I infer the reference is to the various alliances among the major Houses. They trade favors. There may be more to this than I know, not being a manzhani, so I will ask. These questions will require money to answer,” she added.
“Good point. And hire more warriors. I’ll interview them in the evenings, after my day is over. We’ll need them to guard the food shipments, the valley, and the money we send into the city.”
“I will begin as soon as I have the gold.”
“Go get some of the brawnier types to help you carry it.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Leisel went to get help carrying cash. I reached into other universes to make sure she would need the help.
At dinner, I noticed something. Maybe it was the concern over the food imports, but I finally realized. The communal feeding time was less community and more military. Civilians were in their homes for dinner. The messhall—if I may call it that—was full of warriors. Oh, a few newcomers ate at the tables, but they hadn’t yet been homesteaded. For the most part, it was me and people who worked directly for me. In short, the military.
How did it come to this? I wanted a place to sit quietly and observe alternate timelines from the outside. But, like a snowball rolling downhill…
I swear, I’m going to find a quiet little Earth, find a quiet little neighborhood, maybe find a quiet little job, and live a quiet little life for a decade or two. This adventurous bullshit is starting to wear on me. Combined with my tendency to temper tantrums, maybe I should find a quiet little therapist, as well. Sadly, for now, I have a community I feel responsible for and a House needing a good poke in the snoot, at least. Of course, if both of those go well, I can carry on with my observations without having to go to all the effort to relocate. And by “go well,” I mean settle down to the point I can live in peace and quiet. I may be overly optimistic. All I know is I can’t leave everything like this, even if it doesn’t mean I’ll get anything out of it.