by Edun, Terah
He blinked. “Why would someone enjoy using that?”
“Torture, fun, what have you,” she said.
“Fun?”
“Look,” she said, uncomfortable, “why don’t we talk about why you brought me over here? What exactly is it that you thought would excite me?”
He looked like he wanted to prod her more. She put on her most stubborn face.
“Fine,” he sighed, and then picked up the worn crossbow set. “This is it.”
She looked at it in amazement. “Really? It’s falling apart.”
Scandalized, he said, “This is one of the only crossbow sets still intact from the original war to establish the empire!”
“It certainly looks old enough.” Her disdain was palpable.
He stared at her astonishment. “It’s close to two hundred years old.”
“Definitely old enough, then.”
When he clearly was about to have a meltdown, she said, “But in nice condition. Shouldn’t it be rotting in the ground by now?”
He groaned aloud. “The crossbows of the first battle were forged by Mitas, the fire mason with gifts from the gods.”
“The gods?” She couldn’t halt the laughter that escaped.
“Your reverence is charming,” he said dryly.
She shrugged. “Sorry, I just never thought they messed with mortals.”
“They don’t anymore but they did in the beginning.”
“So this Mitas crossbow is special because of its historical relevance?”
“It’s special because it still works.”
She stared at the bow and arrow in his hands. The wood was splintering, the leather had worn away until it was nothing but stiff strips along the bow and the string on the handle looked thin enough to snap.
“Does it?” she said.
He stiffened. “All right then, I’ll prove it to you.”
He began to string the bow. “Don’t,” she warned. “I don’t want you poking your eye out with that damn string. It could snap right in your face.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” He kept tightening the string.
She began to get worried. “I’m serious, Ezekiel.”
“I’m serious too,” he said. “It’ll work. Now, if you’d step back, please?”
She didn’t budge. “You’ve proved your point—put it down.”
He looked directly at her. “I haven’t yet and I’m going to do this. So please step back. The bow will work. But my aim might not be so good.”
She wasn’t going to force him to unstring the crossbow. Fighting over a weapon was how people got stabbed or shot and she feared he would the one laying on the ground bleeding.
“If you must,” she said as she took a step back to just behind his left shoulder.
Sara watched as Ezekiel brought the crossbow up and aimed. With a practiced eye, she saw to her surprise that he had good form. Ezekiel the curator actually knew what he was doing. Too bad he was using a crossbow that was likely to seriously maim him. Then Sara watched in astonishment as the splintering wood of the loaded arrow transformed. What had looked like raised splinters in the middle of its shaft were actually carefully concealed hinges. The hinges spread out in the middle of the arrow and the thin wood slats on either side arced upward into a sort of diamond shape.
What a strange arrow, she thought. It was clear that the arrow was built to do this and the crossbow was built to handle it, but what exactly it would do after that, she had no idea.
Ezekiel took a deep breath and let his arrow fly. She was surprised to say the least, when it not only flew true to its target, the front door, but also exploded the door into bits when it blasted straight through the center and sent shards of wood splinters flying back toward them.
They both ducked instinctively and then rose.
Ezekiel let the crossbow rest in front of him.
She said, in echo of their conversation earlier, “Did you know it was going to do that?”
“Not exactly,” he said faintly.
She clapped a hand on his shoulder in commiseration. “By the time this day is over, we’re going to have to buy Cormar a whole new warehouse.”
Chapter 11
Ezekiel looked queasy at the thought.
“Well,” Sara said while eyeing his crossbow in speculation, “it’s not bad for a two-century-old weapon.”
He snorted and carefully put it back on the bench.
“I think I need to create a new door,” he said ruefully.
“I’ll help,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“No thanks needed. If I left it to you, the door would probably fall flat on the ground in seconds.”
He glared. She grinned. They went to work. By the time an hour had passed, Sara’s back was aching from hammering nails and they were both exhausted. Standing back, she stared at the finished product.
“Good enough,” Sara declared.
“Finally,” murmured an exhausted Ezekiel.
Throwing his hammer into a pail of nails, Ezekiel grabbed a towel and wiped off his face.
“So how does this work?” Sara asked.
“What?”
“The overnight shift with you and your watcher. What did you do before?”
He looked at her blankly. “They left and I stayed.”
“And Cormar allowed that?”
“Cormar killed each one after the first infraction.”
She whistled. “All right, I can’t stay up for six hours straight on top of the day we’ve just had, but neither do I think you can handle watch on your own.”
Before he could bristle, she held up a placating hand. “No offense. Just facts.”
He shrugged. “Can’t really say I was all that good at it before.”
She nodded. “I’ll take the first four hours. You rest. Two hours before dawn I’ll wake you and you keep an eye out. I’ll be right by your side, so you can nudge me if you hear anything suspicious.”
He nodded eagerly.
“Keep in mind the suspicious part,” she said while testing the balance on her sword. “Don’t wake me up if you hear a rat skittering.”
“Of course not,” he said indignantly as he walked to the cot.
She smirked as he laid down to rest and she leaned against the wall for the first watch. They switched shifts as promised and the day dawned with no incidents.
As Sara got up, she looked over at Ezekiel, who was blinking like a sleepy owl. “Don’t get tired on me now. Today’s the mercenary guild day.”
“I know,” he said as he stretched his muscles.
With a yawn, he said, “So how are we going to do this? I think the mercenaries are more your forte than mine.”
“Don’t worry,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got a plan. You just help me lock up this warehouse tight. We need to be in and out in an hour.”
Interest sparked in his eyes but he thankfully refrained from asking the questions that he clearly was dying to know the answers to.
Hoping her non-existent plan would form on their way over, Sara carefully called up her mage gifts. She didn’t do this particular spell very often, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Laying her hand on the cold metal wall, she pushed her gift into the building itself. She was layering her power on top of the gifts that Cormar had had other mages previously imbue it with it. It wasn’t a complicated spell, just a dangerous one.
Opening her eyes, she said to Ezekiel, “You wouldn’t happen to know if Cormar plans to come back around anytime this morning?”
Of course he’s coming back, she said to herself. He showed up three times in one day yesterday. It’d be too much to ask that he stay away from his precious artifacts for more than a few hours.
Sara heard Ezekiel say, “Yes, actually, I do.”
She turned an impatient gaze on the man who loitered by the door.
“Well, do you plan to enlighten me?”
“No, I was going to let you stew for a few more minutes.”<
br />
“Ezekiel!” She could feel her power slipping as she lost her concentration.
“He won’t be by until mid-afternoon,” he said. “Today’s the black market lords’ meeting. They’ll have to decide who will take over the west thief lord’s district, actually, so he might be away until mid-afternoon. Severin, I believe the thief lord’s name was. Nasty man died in an alley fight, apparently.”
“Did he now?”
Sara turned her attention back to the wall and gathered her power for the burst. “When I say go run out of the building as fast as you can.”
“Are you going to blast us to smithereens again?” he asked.
“Something like that,” she said, turning a wry glance on him.
He paled and raced toward the door.
“Don’t go through yet!” she shouted.
“Why the hell not?” he shouted back, inches from making his exit.
She sighed in irritation. “What I’m about to do will lock both of our physical signatures into the building. After I do it, the only way to get back in to the place without dying will be for a person to be with one of us. Since you’ll be alone, you’ll need this coded to you to get back inside.”
“Oh,” he said. “What happens if I don’t have it?”
“I’ll tell you later. Get ready, but don’t move out that door until I say so.”
She looked at him fiercely and he nodded. As she turned back toward the wall, she noted with amusement that he was bouncing on his feet like a runner about to take off in a sprint, straight for the door.
Sara turned her concentration inward and counted down in her thoughts. Each count was set off by a distinct pulse as she thrust her battle magic into the heart of the warehouse.
Five. Pulse.
Four. Pulse.
Three. Pulse.
Two. Pulse. She hurried to grab a piece of Ezekiel’s aura and tied it together with her own. Setting her battle magic countdown to the last pulse, she knew she was no longer needed inside the building.
It would spread like a shock wave.
Whirling toward Ezekiel, she started running and shouted, “Now! Get out.”
One. Pulse.
He needed no further warning and shot out of the building like a rabbit. By the time she’d crossed the threshold he was halfway to the fishery.
She stopped five feet from the doorway and screamed his name. “Ezekiel, come back!”
He didn’t stop until he felt flat on his face. When he got up and turned around to look, she thought his nose was bleeding but she couldn’t tell for sure. She waved a hand to summon him back and turned back toward the warehouse from where she stood. Using her mage sight, she saw the whole building pulse brilliantly with a wave of color, the blue of her own battle magic, and a dark, muddy brown that she assumed was Ezekiel’s essence. The wave subsumed the whole building and came together like a bubble closing on the center of the front door.
As the bubble closed, a panting and bleeding Ezekiel came to rest by her side.
Breathing hard, he rested his hands on his knees and looked at the door. “What did you do?”
“Sealed the building to anyone, magical or mundane, except us.”
“You can do that?” he sounded mildly impressed.
“It’s an arcane war tactic,” she admitted. “And not usually sanctioned in civilian life.”
“Why not?” he said, standing up. “It’s just a residence protection shield, right?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s known as death’s touch.”
He opened his mouth and closed it flatly. “You put death’s touch on a warehouse?”
“Yes,” she said, not sorry. “Anyone else who touches that door and tries to get into that building will die immediately.”
She turned to walk down the path. Ezekiel followed behind her stumbling, “Anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Including Cormar?”
“Yes.”
“He’s not going to like this.”
“Nope.”
“Think he’ll touch it accidently and die anyway?” Ezekiel sounded hopeful.
“It’s a spell with a distinct feel; any mage worth half their salt will know what it is. There’s a warning keyed to the door, too. It’ll give off a light buzz and a feeling of dread will overcome the intruder. If that doesn’t stop them, then they’re idiots.”
“Right,” Ezekiel said, shouldering his backpack and they waded into the street, “So where’d you learn how to do it?’
“My father.”
“Your father sounds like he was awesome.”
“He was,” she said with a smile in her voice.
“So what’s the plan?” he said as they dodged a rather shady looking lump of fur, teeth, and dirt.
“We get in, get the files, hire a replacement, and get out before midday,” she said simply.
“I knew that,” he whined. “I meant how do you plan on getting in through the mercenary guild’s doors? You basically said you’re persona non-grata amongst the fighters, and, well, they don’t really like me anymore.”
That statement set off warning bells in her head.
They had turned on to a street heading east. She stopped abruptly and slammed a hand into Ezekiel’s chest. Pushing back until he stumbled against the wall behind him, she stared up into his face.
“What are you doing?” he gasped. He didn’t look panicked, just shocked. It probably helped that she hadn’t pulled out any weapons or threatened him. Yet.
Passersby flowed behind her as her dark orange eyes met his helpless brown ones.
“I need to know exactly why they hate you so much and if they would recognize you on sight,” she said tensely.
He spluttered.
She cut him off. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it, Ezekiel. This plan to infiltrate their compound and get the files will not work if you don’t come clean. What’s more—I will not risk getting thrown into the stocks for not knowing that you’re a wanted criminal.”
“I’m not a criminal,” he squeaked.
She narrowed her eyes at him as the wind whipped her long black curls, currently pulled back into a ponytail, into her face.
He stared at her with a cross look.
She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. And she would if he didn’t speak up soon.
“Ezekiel,” she snapped, “I do not have all morning.”
He pursed his lips and said, “I might have stolen something from them.”
She let him go and stepped back. That was it. They were parting ways. She didn’t need this.
But still she didn’t move as his pleading eyes met hers.
“What did you steal?” she finally asked.
“A playbook,” he said guiltily.
“What kind of playbook?”
“The kind that lists all military troop movements across the empire.” His voice was quiet as he looked around nervously.
She stared at him as if he was a man possessed. No one was that stupid. No one.
“What in the seven gods did you want with a military playbook?”
He fell back against the wall with his shoulders slumped. “I told you I was hard up for cash a few years back. I sold it to the mages.”
A million thoughts were running through her head at the moment.
“That’s treason. You know that, right? Giving the playbook to the Kade mages is treason.”
He stuck his lower lip out. “I never said I gave it to the Kade mages.”
“Excuse me?” she said, staring at him aghast. “Why would the empress’s mages buy a playbook of their own troops’ movements?”
“Because it’s like I said before,” he said flatly. “The empress is resource poor. She’s hired militia and mercenary personnel to fill a lot of empty slots. Empty slots that include officer positions on the warfront. Let’s just say the empress’s mages aren’t too happy about that. They don’t trust the mercenaries one bit
.”
She let out an irritated sigh. “Tell me one thing.”
He looked at her hopefully.
“Why aren’t you dead? You live in the same city where you stole the bloody handbook from, and from what you’ve told me, the mercenaries would recognize you. You worked there for some time, after all.”
“Might recognize me. I was only there long enough to case the place. A few weeks at most. Besides...the mercenaries never caught me stealing their precious handbook. I was too good. I just happened to leave at the same time it disappeared, so they suspected me a little more.”
“Why would you do that?” Her voice sounded mystified.
He shrugged. “I had other problems at the moment.”
“More problems than a thousand mercenaries raining fire and brimstone down on your head for stealing their intelligence?”
“You could say that.”
She stepped back. “My, my. Ezekiel the mysterious thief.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, the mercenary’s guild has the same turnover rate as the silk weaver’s hall.”
She got the reference. Silk weavers were notorious perfectionists and the head of the silk weaver’s hall in Sandrin was excessive in that trait. A lot of young lads and ladies went into the trade and left weeping in the first week after bearing the brunt of her harsh teachings. Which meant Ezekiel had probably left his job at the same time as half a dozen other mercenary staffers.
Focusing back on the present, Sara wished she have a new partner go in with her. But they didn’t have time, and there wasn’t anyone in this city she trusted to help her anyway.
“Fine, let’s just try to avoid anyone who recognizes you.”
He nodded quickly. “Easily done. I worked in the supplies and maintenance department. We’re going to records. It’s on the other side of the guild hall.”
She had a bad feeling about this. But they were too far in and she needed her father’s records too much to turn back now. They kept going.
Chapter 12
Soon enough they were just outside the central plaza of Sandrin. It was so named not because it lay directly in the center of the city, but because it was the largest plaza in the capital city and housed the organizations central to the city’s governance.