“I did not do anything I would not have done otherwise,” Zerabnir replied firmly. “I always intended for Portia to have the spell book and would have helped her to make her own staff when the time came. So, you see, I did not change anything. If I’d had more time with her, I could have—”
“You said yourself that you should have gone long ago. We agree. Your work here and now is done. The time has come for you to honor your promise to us.”
“Why now?” Zerabnir asked, his voice sounding petulant. “Why this very moment? You who have all of time and space at your command, why do you choose this day of all days?”
“It is simple,” Aisa said flatly, her voice conveying no hint of emotion. “If you stay here you will die and be of no use to anyone. Not to the girl and certainly not to us.”
Zerabnir smiled at that. “All men die. Why should my fate be any different? But isn’t the time of my death for you to choose? Isn’t the fate of all men ultimately in the hands of you and your sisters? Is not the skein of every life for the Apportioners to decide?”
“That is true,” Aisa said, “and we have decided that it is not yet your time. There is more for you to do. Argue with me all you like, old man, but you will come with me. You have no other choice.”
Zerabnir looked around him, taking in the room and all of its many contents. His eyes went to the window and to the silhouette of the dark forest, its outline barely visible in the starlight.
“Will Nachtwald survive?”
“It is for Nachtwald that you must come with me now.”
“What of Portia? What of my student?”
“You are no longer her teacher, and her fate is no longer in your hands, if ever it truly was.”
Zerabnir let out a long sigh. He picked up his staff and walked over to where the woman waited for him. He faced her and could see her brilliant blue eyes, like crystals of ice, shining beneath the cowl of her hood. Her perfect lips were curved ever so slightly.
He half turned and regarded his tower chamber once more. He had spent much of the past decade and more in this room, seldom leaving it. Perhaps it was time for a change after all.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Not where,” Aisa said, and now she was smiling. “When.”
The sphere of light grew around her once more, enveloping both of them. The air crackled and thin ribbons of light danced along the surface of the sphere. Then the light faded, and the sphere with it, leaving behind an empty room.
Chapter 9
Finn opened his door a crack and peered down the hall. Cedric had seen fit to post guards at the end of the corridor, two men who stood on either side, facing each other and talking softly. Whether they were meant for protection or to make sure that both he and Portia remained in their rooms, Finn wasn’t sure, but he guessed it was the latter. He could always go out the window, but the rain had been falling all evening and the stones would be slick. The tower wall was a treacherous climb at the best of times.
Finn produced a short length of bamboo from inside his jacket. He fit a dried pea in the end of the hollow shaft—one of many tricks he had learned from the Gutter Rats—and aimed it toward the stairwell. He blew hard. The pea shot through the air, ricocheted off the wall, and bounced down the stairs. The two men turned, and one of them took a few steps forward to look down the staircase.
In the brief moment their attention was averted, Finn went out, pulling the door closed behind him, and darted to the end of the passage. There, at the end of the hall, hung a heavy tapestry with a depiction of Aedon fighting the dragon, Ashendraugnir. Finn slid behind the tapestry and through a narrow opening no more than a couple feet wide. He paused in the small space, listening, but there was no indication that the guards had seen or heard him. From inside his pocket to took out a small, smooth white gem, a gift from Portia on his eleventh birthday. He breathed onto it, and the gem came to life, filling the small space with pale light.
Holding the gem aloft Finn went down a narrow staircase, emerging into an equally narrow passage. He followed it until it came to an intersection, then, choosing the right-hand passage, continued on, moving swiftly through the dark.
Nachtwald Castle had once been called Kalridon and was first ruled by Aedon Arturas, then by the captain of his Nine Valiants, Sir Veryan Emrallt. The castle had been besieged near the end of the long war with the dark elves, more than six hundred years ago, and the dark elves had reduced it to a pile of rubble. Some years later Baron Aldred an Nachtwald had rebuilt it, restoring the city to something near its former greatness. Fortunately for Finn, the baron had been a cautious man and had the foresight to include many secret ways in and out of his castle.
Some of the passages connected with hidden ways that were much older. Part of the original structure, no doubt. Finn was sure that Cedric knew some of the paths, but was equally certain he didn’t know them all. As a child, alone and friendless, save for his sister, Finn had taken great pleasure in pursuing rats through the castle at all hours of the day and night. It was the rats who had showed him the secret ways. They led him on many a merry chase and revealed every hole and crevice, every hidden door and secret passage. In the night, Finn often slipped from his room and spent hours wandering, following the narrow corridors and myriad tunnels that ran behind the walls and beneath the floors. Some of the passages went very deep, to long forgotten catacombs beneath the city. There, in the darkness, he had come upon a stout wooden door that looked as if it had been there for a thousand years. When he first encountered it, Finn had stood in front of the door for a long while, then tapped experimentally on the iron hard wood. To his shock and terror, something on the other side had responded, scratching at the opposing side of the door. Finn had fled in terror, and to this day had not yet found the courage to open it.
Tonight he had other business besides exploration, so he hurried along until he came to a particular spot that he had visited often in his brief life. Here he crouched and carefully removed a square stone from the wall before him. Behind the wall two lengths of wood paneling met, and a thin shaft of light spilled from the narrow crack between them. Finn leaned close and listened. From behind the wood paneling came the voices of two men. One was Baron Cedric and the other was Sir Ardunn.
“It will be better this way,” Sir Ardunn was saying. “This marriage will keep the peace for at least a generation, maybe end hostilities all together—”
“Or start some new ones,” Cedric said.
“She’s a pretty little thing,” Ardunn said, “but too much like her mother by far.”
“That’s what magic does to you.” Cedric sounded bitter. “It changes you. She thinks I don’t know, but I’ve seen her practicing her little tricks, making little charms... I know she visits that old fool in the forest. I should have driven him away long ago.”
“And, what about the boy? Have you thought any more about it?”
“No.”
“I think it would be wise to send him away after the ceremony. They are much too attached to one another, and it will be easier in the long run on the both of them.”
“Assuming there is a ceremony,” Cedric said. “As you say, she is very much like her mother. There are times when I can hardly bear to look at her.”
“Lady Katherine was a beautiful woman, and you were young—”
“I don’t want to talk about Lady Katherine.” There was a pause, footsteps, and the sound of a cup being filled. “But I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing with Finn. I simply don’t know what else to do with him.”
“It’s for the best,” Sir Ardunn said. “Pardon my saying, but he is willful and lazy, and pays no attention to what Sir Eris is trying to teach him. He sleeps half the day away and is completely undisciplined. Perhaps Lord Upham will have better luck with him. A boy like that needs discipline. There is no other way to tame a wild horse.”
“Perhaps. But the border guard is no place for weaklings and cowards. The threat from the Dark Lands is
very real, as you well know. It will be hard on him, and what of this new threat? Orcs and goblins in Arkirius? With the Belgari gone, no one is guarding the pass. No doubt they came down through the Dragontooth Mountains...” Cedric let out a long sigh. “There is another war coming. I feel it in my bones.”
“We don’t have the men,” Sir Ardunn said. “If they come at us in any kind of numbers, the city will fall.”
“I know. Let’s hope our riders bring us better news in the morning.”
Finn carefully slid the stone back into place, muffling Cedric’s voice. He sat for a moment, lost in thought. So, it was to be the border guard. He had feared as much. Finn stood and carefully retreated back the way he had come, choosing a different path this time. He descended another staircase and hurried along a long, dark tunnel that led away from the castle, beneath the wall, and out into the city.
* * *
Finn emerged from a secret door inside a crumbling tower known to the locals as the Drunken Bishop. The tower stood across the green from the Blessed Church of Aedon, a dark pile of blackened stone that leaned precariously to one side, as if it might fall over at any moment. The tower was all that remained of the original town, which was probably the only reason it hadn’t been torn down. Instead the residents of Nachtwald had simply built around it.
Finn unlocked a small cell door with a key he himself had made, and pushed open the outer door at the back of the tower, emerging behind a tall hedge. He crept along the hedge, then through a garden at the back of a house that had been built in the Drunken Bishop’s shadow. The house was dark and still, its occupants long since gone to bed. He passed through a gate at the edge of the property and came into a lane fronted by similar houses and gardens along either side. From there he hurried along, keeping to the shadows.
Nachtwald, like most cities in Arkirius was a sprawling collection of shops and houses, with fish markets and wine shops located near the main gate, and other establishments, including brothels and ale houses, situated deeper within the tangled streets and alleys. The houses were, for the most part, half-timber construction with wattle and daub walls and rooftops made of rough wooden shingle. Many of them appeared to lean in toward one another, intimate neighbors sharing secrets. Others were connected by second and third stories built out over the street, providing additional apartments for expanding families. The overall effect was like that of a maze, winding this way and that.
The rain had washed away some of the filth and excrement that clogged the streets, but the air still smelled of rotting cabbage and offal. Finn deftly sidestepped puddles and pools, dancing through the mud and refuse with well-honed dexterity.
At one point he was nearly accosted by a dark figure lurking in an alleyway, but Finn was aware of his would-be assailant before he reached the thief’s lair. He paused, touching a finger to the side of his nose. The gesture was returned and the figure instantly withdrew, returning to its station to wait for more likely prey.
A short time later Finn came to a small house in the worst part of the city. He moved past it, going around to the back, and approached a heavy wooden door set in a slightly twisted frame. He rapped on it twice, paused, and then rapped again three more times. He waited. After several moments he caught the thump of a man’s boots, and the yellow glow of candlelight crept out from beneath the door.
“Who is it,” asked a voice on the other side. “What do you want?”
“I’ve come to see Master Lusive,” Finn glanced around to make sure he was not being watched.
“It’s late. Come back tomorrow.”
“I know he’s awake,” Finn said. “And he sent for me.” He drew a coin from his purse and tapped it against the wood. There was a pause, then the door opened just a crack, and a dull, bloodshot eye peered out at him.
“What do you want?”
“I need to see Master Lusive.” Finn held out the coin. The man behind the door looked at it, considering, then took it from Finn’s hand.
“Well, alright then, why didn’t you say so?”
The door opened wider and the man stepped back to allow Finn entry. The man was short with thin, white hair that stuck out in all directions and a nose like a pomegranate. He gave the night a cursory examination, and then shut the door, motioning Finn to follow.
“Come along then. He’s down in the Rat’s Den, as usual.”
Finn followed the candle flame as it bobbed along the passage, toward the middle of the house, then down a creaky staircase to a basement hall. The man led him down the hall, stopping at a door near the end. He knocked and waited.
“What is it, Jaff?” came a low, gravelly voice from behind the portal.
“It’s the lord’s brat, come to see you. He says you asked for him.”
“He’s late,” said the voice. There was a short pause, then, “let him in.”
Jaff pushed open the door, revealing a large cluttered room with sagging bookcases and a hodge-podge of mismatched furniture. Behind a large desk at the back of the room sat a man of average height with a hawk nose, short-cropped graying hair, and penetrating eyes. He had a pile of coins on one side of him, a smaller pile on the other, and a huge ledger book open in front of him, his quill pen poised over it.
“Finn. Good to see you, boy. Come in.” said the man behind the desk, dropping his pen and standing.
Finn entered the room, pulling back his hood. Jaff withdrew, easing the door shut behind him.
“Hello, Lusive,” Finn said. “It’s good to see you as well.”
Lusive Picket was something of a legend, at least in certain circles. He had been a cutpurse, a thief, and an assassin for nearly forty years. He had lived in every major city on the continent, conspired with kings, made and lost countless fortunes, and never once been caught—well, not for long at least. He still had both his hands, both feet, both ears, and both his eyes, and his tongue was sharp as ever.
“My life is over,” Finn said, without preamble, “and my fate is sealed.”
“I heard. The border guard, is it? Poor lad. Thin pickings up there. But that’s probably not your biggest problem at the moment.”
Finn looked around the room. There were a number of boxes and packages, stacked one on top of another, and the few paintings that had hung on the walls were now missing, leaving behind a faded outline of where they had once been.
“Hold on,” Finn said. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Aye, we all are. The Gutter Rats is leaving Nachtwald, and I don’t anticipate we will be returning anytime soon.”
“But you can’t. Why? Why would you want to leave now, after all this time?”
“There’s a war coming. You know it as well as I. You met with the travelers, did you not? You heard their news and saw the manner of their arrival.”
“Yes, but...”
“The pass into the Dragontooth Mountains is open, and the Wudu tribe that was guarding it, the Belgari or some such, is all slain. The orcs have come down out of the Dark Lands, and they’ve brought their friends with them. I hear rumors of war everywhere, and that means it’s time to go.”
“Is that why you sent for me?” Finn asked.
“Of course it’s why I sent for you,” Lusive’s voice was like a nail on steel. “I want you to come with us.”
“Me. But I—” The words stuck in his throat. The thought of running off with Lusive and his merry band of thieves was an enticing one, but not without his sister. Not without Portia.
“There’s something else.” Lusive rummaged through the contents of his desk, eventually locating a piece of parchment that he expertly pulled from a pile of papers and placed in front of Finn.
“Ever seen this?” Lusive watched Finn from beneath his heavy brows.
Finn looked down at the drawing on the parchment. It was nothing more than a circle, drawn in heavy black ink, but at the upper right corner was a triangular protrusion, a sharp spike that stuck out from the circle. “No,” Finn said. “Never.”
�
��We caught one of these snooping about Nachtwald, and it’s not the first time they’ve been here. He was asking questions, of a personal nature you might say. Questions about you.”
“Me? What kind of questions?”
“About your lineage, about Baron Cedric and your dearly departed mother.” Lusive rubbed at the stubble covering his chin. “We caught him inside the castle. Said he was a squire to Sir Ardunn if you can believe it. We interrogated him at some length, and we was none too gentle about it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very forthcoming.”
“Where is he now?”
“At various points along the Alleg,” Lusive said with a derisive snort. “Where no one is likely to find him. We call ‘em the Horned Circle.” He turned his head and spat on the floor when he said it. “Near as I can tell, they’re a new order of thieves and assassins. No one seems to know much about ’em, who their leaders are, or where they come from, but they’re well organized.”
“I should have come sooner,” Finn said. “But I couldn’t, not without raising suspicions. Not that Cedric isn’t suspicious of my activities already.”
“He ain’t as stupid as he looks, your father.”
“But why would anyone be asking about me?”
“That’s a puzzle. Despite my best efforts you’re hardly notorious. But mark my words, they’ll be back, if they’re not already. Assuming there’s a city to come back to, mind you.”
“This is all bad news,” Finn said. “But I can’t go with you, not now, not with everything that’s happening.”
“War’s coming, boy. Think about when the orcs get here. They’ve been burning villages all around us, in every direction. I seen it before. They’re cutting off any possible lines of support, and they’ll come for Nachtwald soon enough.”
“But why? What is there in Nachtwald that anyone could possibly want?”
“Ask your priest, Father Moram. He knows a great deal more than he’s letting on. I hate to admit it, but I’ve grown fond of you, boy. I don’t see any reason why you should stay here and die with the rest.”
A Way with Magic (The Draakonor Chronicles Book 1) Page 10