"Year in and year out, I've watched this stupid feud claim too many lives," Lady Elthea said. "I won't to be the cause of it flaring up again. Please, child, hold off. I'm dying, you know. This is likely the last favor I'll ever ask of you."
Pivor grimaced. "Very well. I'll give Selden until midnight tomorrow. After that, the Blues will take to the streets and settle matters our way."
"Fair enough," I said. I turned to Draydech. "Finish your wine and come on. If I'm going to stalk a mage, I want you with me."
There’s a part of Balathex, the Whispering City, the City of Fountains, we call the Dry Quarter, where the fountains abundant elsewhere are few and far between, the streets narrow to twisting alleys, and the cobbles turn to muck beneath one's feet. When the City Guards patrol the area, which is seldom, they go in twos and threes, and as often as not, ignore the screams that ring from the shadowed courtyards.
Draydech and I had been prowling this warren since our departure from Lady Elthea’s mansion the previous evening. A weary ache in my joints attested to the fact that it was harder for me to do without sleep than it used to be.
Still, I was in good spirits. Peering up at the narrow strip of sky visible between the steeply pitched rooftops, gauging the position of the waning moon, I judged that I had three hours till midnight. Time enough to forestall Pivor’s assault if, as I hoped, I was about to net my quarry.
I pointed at a sagging post-and-beam tenement. It had a cobbler’s shop and a bakery on the ground floor, apartments above. "If the kidnapper spoke true, that's the place. Can you sense anything?"
Draydech squinted. After a moment, he said, "Yes. The top story has a nasty sheen to it. Someone's worked magic up there, some of it involving torture, sacrifice, and the Abyss."
"Sounds like our lad," I said. "Is he at home?"
"I can't say. The residue of his sorcery masks any other impressions.
"Well, there's an easy way to find out. Come on." We slunk up the street, through a doorway that stank of urine, and up four creaky flights of stairs.
I didn't see any point in giving the man we were after a chance to ready a spell. I drew my sword and kicked his door. It flew open and I rushed through.
My violent entry served no purpose. The warlock was home, but in no condition to harm me. A bald, hook-nosed man in a hooded robe, he lay sprawled on a dark stain in the middle of the floor. The reek of feces filled the air.
I knelt beside him, and, examining him by the wan light that spilled through the open shutters, found a narrow slit on each side of his throat. I tried to flex his cool, waxy-looking arm. It resisted, but it bent.
Behind me, Draydech muttered an incantation. A globe of sickly green foxfire appeared in the air. Its glow revealed that the one-room apartment had been ransacked. A chest stood open, and clothing lay scattered across the floor. Codices and pieces of parchment were strewn about.
"Damn!" said Draydech. "The Luck Lords hate us! Damn, damn, damn!" He kicked a stool across the floor.
Grasping at straws, I said, "Can we be certain that this man is the mage?"
"Yes. I can tell from the lingering traces of his aura."
"Shit," I said. "Well, perhaps it isn't all bad. If the bastard's dead, he can't lead us to his employer. But on the other hand, if the magician's gone, the salamander's gone, so at least we don't have to worry about the town burning down. Right?"
"Wrong. The creature's probably still around. No reason it shouldn't be. I suspect the mage commanded it to obey his patron. Otherwise, Balathex would already be in flames. But without the wizard's power bolstering the Green Peregrine's control, the elemental could slip its reins at any time. The threat of a conflagration is actually greater than before."
"Wonderful," I growled, rising. "We'd better search this place ourselves. I don't know what the murderer was looking for, but--"
"Watch out!" Draydech cried. To this day, I don't know what he could have seen or heard that I missed; it must have been his mystical senses that alerted him. He sprang at me and knocked me away from the window.
An instant later, there was a quarrel in his back. He tried to speak and then he was gone, just like that, death's ghastly conjuring trick that stuns and appalls no matter how many times one sees it played on a friend.
Fortunately, though my thoughts were frozen, my reflexes weren’t. I threw myself to the floor. Another bolt whizzed through the air above me.
The marksman, who must be shooting from the window directly across the street, had had at least two crossbows loaded and ready.
I didn't see much reason to stand back up and find out if he had a third. It would be wiser to slip out of the apartment. I crawled to the door.
Onrushing footsteps clattered up the stairs. The crossbowman's colleagues, without a doubt. It sounded as if there were half a dozen. Long odds even for a fencing master, especially if one had to worry about taking a quarrel in the back while one fought.
I wished I could lock the door. That might at least buy me a few seconds. But, cunning fellow that I was, I'd broken the latch. And as long as I was taking stock of my ill fortune, it was a pity I was too high to leap from the window to the street. If I tried to climb down the wall, the marksman would shoot me for certain.
I crawled back to the window, pulled off my cloak, stuck it on the end of my sword, and raised it. Another bolt thrummed overhead. Instantly, discarding the makeshift lure, I scrambled up onto the windowsill and leaped.
Though the street was narrow, it was an awkward jump, and I didn't land gracefully. I slammed down on my belly on the marksman's windowsill, half in and half out, legs dangling. My attacker, a skinny, coppery bearded fellow, smashed an arbalest over my head.
For a moment, I blacked out. When I came to, he was pushing me backward.
I grabbed the windowsill with one hand and whipped out my dagger with the other. I thrust. The blade scraped a rib, then plunged deep into the marksman’s chest. He groaned and flopped on top of me.
I shoved him off, then hauled myself into the empty apartment he'd been shooting from. When I examined him, I saw that Draydrech was avenged.
My knees were weak, my crown throbbed, and blood trickled down my forehead. I wanted to sit and rest, but I knew I mustn't give my remaining assailants a chance to figure out where I'd gone and tree me again. I dragged my dagger out of the redhead's breast, then hurried out the door.
By the time I reached Lady Elthea's mansion, I felt a little better. Perhaps in recognition of the noblewoman's disapproval, Pivor's miniature army, if one cared to dignify it with that name, was awaiting midnight outside in her garden. He'd gathered about a hundred men, those who'd stood watch over his kinswoman's holdings plus some new recruits. Casks of ale and wine sat on trestles beside a dry fountain, and the cool night air smelled of drink.
Working my way through the throng, I spotted Pivor drinking from a tankard. "Good evening," I hailed him.
He pivoted. Squinted. "You're hurt."
"A scratch," I said. "You can send the mob home."
He frowned. "Are you saying you found the magician?"
"More or less. I'm sure you can appreciate that no one should hear my tidings before my employer.” I waved down a passing footman. “Please tell your mistress Selden is here.”
I thought he'd return and usher me into her presence, but instead, leaning heavily on a gleaming staff, she hobbled out onto the marble steps beneath the porte cochere. At her appearance, a hush settled over the crowd.
I bowed. “My lady, I know your enemy’s name.” The Blue blades jabbered excitedly. “I deduced it just a short while ago. Truth to tell, I should have realized before, but I'm like everyone else in Balathex. I'm so wearily familiar with the enmity between Snow Lynx and Green Peregrine that it was difficult to think beyond it."
Pivor gaped at me. "Are you saying the incendiary isn't a Peregrine? What about the threat?”
“Anyone can buy green ink. The letter was merely a ruse to divert suspicion from the rea
l culprit. Think about it: Lady Elthea isn't active in public life. Even her late husband didn't make himself any more obnoxious to the Peregrines than many another member of your faction. Why, then, would a Peregrine choose to persecute her and her alone of all your number? Wouldn't it make more sense to attack a genuine Snow Lynx leader such as you?"
Pivor opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"While you ponder that, I continued, "you can chew on this as well. Lady Elthea, we all worried that you would indeed burn in your bed, but in point of fact, the salamander never came here. Instead, it devoted its attentions to your commercial ventures. Once again, if your foe intends your destruction, one has to wonder why.
"Here's what I think. You have a wealthy friend. Like me, he started common and shinned his way up into the lesser gentry. Unlike me, he yearns to rise higher still. In Balathex, that isn't easy, so he decided to ruin you, then offer to cover your losses if you'd adopt him. Or perhaps he wouldn't have been so crude; he might have relied on your gratitude. Either way, he expected to gain a title and membership in one of the Ancient Kindreds." I turned. "Isn't that right, Master Jarnac?"
Jarnac glared at me. "This is absurd."
"Is it? Once we started standing watch, every building that caught fire did so while you were guarding it. Moreover, Draydech and I found the mage who conjured the salamander slain. By a thrust from a thin blade like yours. No Green knew we were hunting the warlock, but you did. You were here when we hatched the plan. Since the man could identify you, you got to him first, silenced him, and ransacked his quarters to make sure that he hadn’t written your name down anywhere. Afterwards, you found you were still afraid. Maybe you were worried that your search had missed something or that Draydech's sorcery could make a dead man speak. In any event, you hired a band of assassins to lie in wait for us. Perhaps, in the moments of life remaining to you, it will console you to know that only I escaped."
Pivor said, "Hold on. How do you know that the fire wizard died after you left here yesterday?"
"As a corpse cools, it stiffens," I replied. "But after the better part of a day, it starts to go limp again. The body was at that stage when I found it."
Jarnac's forehead glistened with sweat. His voice breaking, he said, "You can't prove a single thing against me."
“True," I said. "Not to the satisfaction of a court of law. But I don't have to. I've cast aspersions on your honor, and you're supposed to call me out. If you don't, I'll challenge you, and you'll still have to fight. It's time you learned there are disadvantages to being an aristocrat."
He turned. "Lady Elthea, I swear--"
Her old eyes glittered. "You vile thing."
Jarnac's face crumpled. "All right. I confess. I surrender. Send for the City Guards."
I couldn't help feeling disappointed. Though I was confident that the authorities would behead him in due course, I wanted to kill him myself. But I also figured we needed him alive for the nonce, to help us deal with the salamander. "Tell us about the elemental," I said.
"As you wish, " he said. He opened his collar and pulled out a round brass medallion on a chain. “This will be the true consolation, getting rid of the beast.” He lifted the chain over his head. "You can't imagine how it's been. I didn't mean to harm anyone. But the thing kept pushing and squirming--"
His sandy hair burst into flame.
An instant later, fire blazed out of his eye sockets and silently screaming mouth. His skin shone dazzling white, like molten metal, and wisps of blackened cloth flew away from his body. Crying out in shock and terror, the men around him recoiled. For a moment, he reeled about in manifest agony, then dropped into a truculent crouch.
At last, too late, I understood why Draydech had never been able to find the spirit. Its summoner had somehow hidden it inside Jarnac. And now, seizing control, it had transmuted their mingled substance into something more nearly resembling its native form.
I drew my dagger and lunged. Heat seared me. My point plunged into the salamander's breast. Seemingly unhurt, it lifted one fiery hand to seize me.
I sidestepped its grab and slashed at its other hand. The dagger snagged the chain, and I ripped it out of the elemental 's grasp.
Evidently, it had been a good idea, because the salamander snarled and tried to snatch the medallion back. I surmised that in the hands of a mage, it might have the power to subdue the creature.
Wishing that I were a sorcerer, wincing at the blistering touch of the metal, I gripped the chain securely in my fist, wheeled, and ran. The panicky Snow Lynxes parted before me, clearing my path to the street. The salamander lumbered in pursuit.
After a few steps, it became apparent that the creature couldn't catch me. Perhaps it would have been slow in any world, in any form, but more likely it was clumsy using Jarnac's legs. Foolishly, I imagined that for the next little while, my primary problem might be making sure that it didn't abandon the chase.
The air around me grew warmer. I glanced back, but the salamander, now entirely enveloped in a corona of hissing blue flame, was still several yards back. For another heartbeat, I still failed to grasp what was happening. Then I remembered how the spirit had kindled fire at a distance, simply by willing it.
I dodged, an instant too late. The blast hurled me through the air and smashed me down on the cobbles. Though stunned, I started to scramble up, then noticed that my left sleeve was on fire. I rolled over and over till the blaze went out, then jumped to my feet and dashed on.
From then on, my progress was a nightmare. Explosions blinded and deafened me. Gasps of hot air charred my throat. By zigzagging, I managed to prevent the salamander from centering a blast on me, but only at the cost of eroding my lead. All things considered, I was reasonably certain that I'd never reach my destination.
But I was wrong. Eventually I staggered around a corner and there it was, the ground on which I'd chosen to make my stand. I ran a few more feet, drawing the salamander to where I wanted it. Then I sucked in .a deep breath, spun and charged.
Perhaps the maneuver surprised it, because it didn't even try to get out of my way. I grappled it and bulled it backward. It wrapped its blazing arms around me.
The next moment seemed to last an eternity. I felt my skin crisping, my tunic, breeches, and eyebrows catching fire. Then the salamander and I plunged off the riverbank.
As I'd prayed, the elemental's halo of flame went out when we splashed into the stream. But its flesh was still hot. The water around it started to boil. I imagined that In time it could cook me like a crayfish.
But now that I had the elemental submerged, I wasn't about to give it a chance to come up for air. Clinging to it, I stabbed it again and again. As far as I could tell, these new wounds didn't trouble it either. Meanwhile, it tried to thrust me away.
Though no one could have seen much in the dark water, I still sensed my vision fading. My ears rang and my chest ached, the compulsion to gulp a breath becoming insupportable.
And then the salamander stopped struggling. Its body turned soft, crumbled and dissolved in the current, as if it had burned itself to ash.
I dropped the knife and amulet, then, with the dregs of my strength, floundered to the surface. After filling my lungs several times, I paddled to the shore, only to discover that my arms were too feeble to drag me out of the river.
Gauntleted hands gripped my wrists and hauled me onto the grass. "I came after you," Pivor said.
"I'm afraid you missed all the fun," I wheezed. "They're dead, the spook and Jarnac both." I started coughing. I wondered vaguely if it was from swallowing smoke or water.
"You need a physician!"
“That would be nice. Not that I'm dying, but I could definitely use some ointment for my scorched parts. Just let me lie here a minute, and then, I think, I'll be able to walk."
After a pause, Pivor said, "Thank you for bringing us the truth. I keep thinking about things my grandaunt has always said. And all the blood I nearly shed, for nothing. Do you think
there might be an honorable way to end the feud? I mean, without killing all the Green Peregrines."
I smiled, which hurt my face. "It's worth considering," I said.
Death in Keenspur House
The living eyed me with emotions ranging from hope to dislike. Mouth agape, eyes wide, smallsword still sheathed at his hip, chest hacked to bloody ruin, the corpse stared up at the high ceiling with its painted scene of nymphs and deer. I stooped to see if his eyes still held the image of the man who’d cut him down. They didn’t. That trick has never worked for me, nor, so far as I know, for anyone.
Stout and balding, a man in his middle years like myself, Lord Baltes asked, “Are you learning anything, Master Selden?”
I straightened up. “It’s too early to say.”
Lanky and sharp-featured like so many members of the Keenspurs, Tregan snorted. “Surely it’s clear enough what happened. Venwell had the bad luck to blunder into the thief, who then had to kill him to make his escape.”
“Is that what your magic reveals?” I asked. A talent for wizardry ran in the Keenspur blood, and in addition to serving as his brother Baltes’s lieutenant, Tregan was the household mage.
His mouth twisted. “No, actually. The signs are muddled. But it’s common sense, surely.”
“Maybe,” I said, inspecting a floral tapestry spoiled by eight long rust-brown streaks. The murderer had evidently used it to give his weapon a thorough wiping. “I’d like to see the room where the wedding gifts are on display.”
“What will that accomplish?” asked the sorcerer. “The killer took the ruby tiara. It isn’t there for you to examine anymore. We sent for you because Marissa claims you know your way around the stews and thieves’ dens down in the Dry Quarter. You should be hurrying there--“
“You sent for him because he’s the one who caught the salamander and so kept the city from burning down, or the Green Peregrines and Snow Lynxes from slaughtering one another,” Marissa said. Lithe and long-legged, she’d been the principal fencing master to the Peregrine faction as I was for the Lynxes. “He has a knack for puzzling things out.”
The Plague Knight and Other Stories Page 9