by Max Anthony
While Queen Happy looked rueful, Skulks felt glum, reluctant to sit on his hind quarters for ten days, especially given the paucity of taverns he’d noticed on his way here. With a few days to fill, Skulks later took the opportunity to approach the Warp and the Weft about the debt they owed him.
“You agreed to teach me some magic!” he told them without preamble.
Having discussed the matter amongst themselves, the Warp and the Weft agreed that wizardry had advanced while thievery had stood still. Therefore, they were content with the notion that Skulks should be provided with some assistance in re-balancing the equation.
“We agreed to pay you whatever you asked,” said the Warp, sighing to give Skulks the impression that he’d asked too much, while in truth Warp and Weft were happy with this outcome.
“And pay you we shall,” said the Weft. “Though there is little time to teach you much. It is possible that your Wielding powers will adapt quickly, allowing you to learn a few rudimentary tricks which will stand you in good stead in the future.”
“For there is a limit to how much we will teach you for the simple act of rescuing us,” continued the Warp.
Skulks protested this, informing the wizards that he’d risked life and limb on a number of occasions on the basis of their promise to pay him that which he asked them. There followed a period of negotiation, where it was agreed that they would teach Skulks as best they could until the arrival of the Fleet Sweetheart. After that, he would retain a small credit balance with them which he could access next time they met. Skulks thought this to be fair. He asked:
“What are you planning to do here?”
“We promised Queen Happy assistance, and we keep our promises,” said the Warp.
“We’ll stay here through the winter and see what we can do to repel any siege against these walls.”
“Or we might just go out looking for trouble if we get bored.” The Warp’s eyes glittered. Skulks wasn’t the only Wielder who had an insatiable appetite for danger and excitement.
Hearing these words, Skulks felt a pang of longing to stay with them. It had been many years since he’d been involved in a good siege, though in the last one he’d been struck by a cow’s bladder full of diseased piss, hurled over the walls by a catapult. The bladder had knocked him out and burst its contents of sticky yellow urine all over a new set of black trousers, tunic and boots he’d just bought. When he’d awoken two hours later, he’d stank so much that he’d thrown the clothes away and had to buy a whole new set.
The Warp and Weft were familiar with Skulks’ faraway look, which appeared on his face when he was reminiscing internally about the past.
“We can get started now.”
Skulks shook his head clear. “Splendid!” he exclaimed.
The next few days were mostly spent locked in a room in Queen Happy’s palace. From this room, noises of the arcane were to be heard, along with flashes of light and the occasional low rumble. Once, a plume of smoke was seen to rise from under the door, leading a servant into a fright as he thought the palace was burning. When word finally reached him that the Fleet Sweetheart had docked, what emerged was a newer, more powerful Tan Skulks, schooled and skilled in the most intricate and powerful wizardry known to man, woman or demon mage.
As it happens, this last bit was something of an exaggeration, for Skulks had been taught a few minor tricks to keep him alive against the wiles and machinations of crafty but underpowered adepts and magic-users. Still, he was pleased as he strode forth, with two minor wards and an incomplete sigil upon his body, thinking himself to be more than a match for the entirety of the Wizards’ Convention, should they be foolish enough to assail him.
Twenty
Having said his farewells, Skulks boarded the Fleet Sweetheart. Though it was not quite the sleek, ocean-striding vessel he’d come to Rhult on, Skulks was still pleased to set foot upon the ancient, weathered deck of this wallowing merchant ship. The captain was a stumpy old lady by the name of Dola Sad, who had the peculiar gait of someone who had been born and raised on a ship. Though she was less than five feet tall and similarly wide, she could skate over the deck with grace and speed.
“Good to have you aboard, Captain Skulks!” she said to him.
“Happy to be aboard,” responded Skulks truthfully. “How long till we reach Hardened?”
“Fourteen days, perhaps,” said Captain Sad, hedging her bets.
“Fourteen! That will be cutting it finely! I have important matters to deal with!”
Captain Sad had been pre-warned that her passenger might be somewhat agitated, so she was not at all concerned at his response.
“Rest assured, the vessel is free of cargo and as light as she can be. We’ll get you back to Hardened in good time.”
Skulks felt relieved by her certainty, for she exuded an air of confidence which he doubted was misplaced. He watched as the crew got the ship underway - they managed it well and with little supervision, further reassuring him that they knew how to sail. His eyes didn’t deceive him, for although the ship was old, its crew was experienced and skilled in eking the best out of the creaking, groaning hull. Burden was more or less on the coast, so it wasn’t long before the ship had broken out into the rougher waters of the Deeping Sea, sails taut as the wind tugged them onwards.
If Skulks had hoped for some excitement on the return journey, he was to be disappointed. There were no demons summoned to facilitate his death. No sea creatures appeared to drag them into the depths. The ship sprang no leaks and there were no storms. Two of the crew members suffered from a vomiting bug traced back to a contaminated chicken, but otherwise all was well.
So it was that twelve-and-a-half days after leaving Burden, the Fleet Sweetheart reached the Downriver Docks of Hardened, having obtained permission from Dockmaster Grumps to berth. Grumps herself was there to greet Skulks off the ship.
“I see you’ve got back unharmed,” she said, as if it mattered to her not at all. “I wouldn’t want my daughter to be disappointed.” Skulks had little time to reflect on this, for he was feeling rushed.
“Have I missed the Convention?” he asked, worried that the city might have fallen into ruin in his absence.
“It’s tomorrow,” said Grumps. “You’ve got plenty of time.” She looked curiously at him, making Skulks uncomfortable at the scrutiny. He patted his face, thinking he might have crumbs of food stuck there.
“What happened to your nose?” asked Grumps. “I don’t remember it being wonky.”
“Bah!” stated Skulks. “I had it broken by a thief-demon and poorly set by a wizard.”
“What a shame,” said Grumps. “I prefer my men a with a bit more meat on their bones, but I’m told there’re women who find your face appealing.”
Skulks was confused by the new direction of Grumps’ conversation, particularly since he was keen to be on his way to the Chamber Building in order to dispose of any to-do trays on his desk.
“Is it so bad?” he asked, fingering his nose and finding that it was indeed pointing slightly off to the left. He’d passed many a mirror without looking at his reflection since his nose was broken. Skulks was not a vain man, and after a thousand or so years of life was familiar with what he looked like, so tended to see mirrors as items of potential value, rather than a place to admire his countenance.
“Not bad as such. Just a bit wonky. And everyone notices a man with a wonky nose.”
Skulks thought about this. He had a face that just fitted in everywhere. He was the sort of person you’d see, but not really notice unless you were looking for him. He relied on being a man who went unnoticed in order to get himself into places he wouldn’t otherwise obtain easy entry into. Such a man relied on having nothing unusual about him to catch the eye or to make people curious. A man with a wonky nose attempting to blend in with a crowd might hear the words “Hey, mister! What happened to your nose?” at an inconvenient moment.
“Bugger it!” said Skulks, thinking about the ramif
ications.
“I know of a lady who can fix these things, painlessly and without an exorbitant fee, if you would like me to put you in touch with her?” asked Grumps solicitously.
“I would be most grateful for this information,” said Skulks, failing to react as Doris Grumps punched him firmly on the nose.
“Ow! By dose!” he shouted in upset as his nose was broken anew. “I bust protest at this punching of me!”
“Oh shush your mouth,” said Grumps, now sounding like a concerned grandmother as she clucked around him, looking at his face from all angles. “Let’s see now,” she continued, clapping the outer edges of both hands against the sides of Skulks’ nose, before pulling and squeezing. He could feel something crunching as his nose was wrenched and drubbed back into shape.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurd!” he complained, for the pain was as great as that of a badly stubbed toe.
“Did I say that?” asked Grumps mildly. “I’m sure I can’t remember saying such words.” By now, her gentle ministrations were complete and she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There’ll be a bit of bruising and some swelling I reckon. But nothing a grown lad like you can’t handle.”
“Dank you, Dockmaster Grumps,” Skulks told her, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, relieved to have a quick solution to his minor problem, even though he hadn’t enjoyed being punched so smartly. It would be fully healed within a day, he knew.
Grumps looked like she was almost, possibly thinking about considering breaking into a half-smile. “Best get on your way then,” she said, the half-smile flickering onto her face and off again so quickly that Skulks thought she was suppressing a hiccup.
Having learned that he was blessed with more time than he had expected before the Wizards’ Convention and also having had his nose punched back into shape, Skulks slipped back into his familiar relaxed character as he ambled back towards the Chamber Building. His office was still where he’d left it, the promised move away from the privies having apparently fallen victim to oversight. The door was unlocked and when Skulks went in he could see this was to allow the clerks easier access to his desk. Skulks had been thinking about his to-do tray and how much paper might be sitting in it, but on his desk there were now three to-do trays, looking for all the world as if they had every right to be there. Having filled up the first tray to overflowing, the industrious clerks had located additional trays to load with missives, instructions and information for Skulks’ eager perusal. At least that was the theory. In practise, Skulks was fully primed to up-end all three trays into the waste-paper bin positioned strategically next to his desk. For now, the papers were to be given a temporary reprieve.
“Captain Skulks?” asked a voice at the door.
“What is it?” he responded, somewhat testily. The door opened enough for a clerk’s head to pop around it.
“Chamber Member Spout desires your presence in her room.”
“Jolly good,” said Skulks. “Let her know I’ll be along shortly.”
“Chamber Member Spout desires your presence in her room, now,” said the doughty clerk, not afraid to do her duty.
Skulks sighed, before giving his acknowledgement of the summons. “Very well, I will leave immediately.”
Two minutes later, Heathen Spout was watching her door carefully, keen to speak to Skulks, yet unaware that he had climbed in through the window behind her. He stole one of her ever-present pastries and ambled over to her desk where he stood behind her for a moment.
“Everyone got back safely, then?” he asked. Spout jumped in surprise, before recovering her composure.
“Yes, Tan. Everyone got back safely and I’m glad to see you back as well. Though it looks like you’ve just run into a brick wall.”
“This?” asked Skulks pointing at his swollen nose. “A mere trifle, gratefully received in pursuit of international relations.”
“Please have a seat. We have some catching up to do.”
Skulks helped himself to Spout’s favourite chair and leaned back. Spout took another chair and the two of them spent some time talking. Skulks learned that the mission to Casks was considered to have been something of a success and that his performance as head of the Office of Covert Operations was lauded. There was even talk of promoting him from his rank of captain, to the new rank of captain. While Skulks still thought it a bit silly that captain was the highest title bestowed upon a person, the people of Hardened had an ingrained wariness of authority and didn’t like people with lengthy or grand titles.
“What’re we going to do about King Meugh?” asked Skulks.
“For now? Absolutely nothing. I think we’ve done enough to set him back, perhaps permanently. We’ll sit back and watch for now.”
Skulks further impressed by telling Spout how he’d forged a new alliance with Queen Happy, although at a cost of a ship full of supplies. This was a price Spout was more than content to pay, and made an order for the Fleet Sweetheart’s hold to be filled with useful items for a city under siege.
“We’ll make a diplomat of you yet, Tan,” she told him, almost succeeding in keeping the smile from her face.
“Just when I was settling into my current office,” said he, unaware she was being facetious.
“Let’s put it down as something for the future. For now, Hardened is in the middle of preparations for the Wizards’ Convention. Three days of awards, spells, song and merriment await us!”
“Three days of mischief, destruction, gobbledegook and jabbering, more like it,” said Skulks, still with a chip on his shoulder when it came to wizards, even though he could now be classed as the weakest of neophytes.
“Yes, I believe there may have been a few incidents of wizardly high-jinks in the past week or so,” Spout told him, unconcerned. “But I’m sure you’ll do your utmost to keep the city safe now that you have returned.”
Knowing this to be true, Skulks headed back to his office to tackle his to-do boxes. He had Tiopan Lunder to track down and also had to locate the person who had marked him for a horrible death. As he lay back and put his feet upon his desk, Skulks stretched over for the first of the to-do boxes and idly leafed through its contents. “Explosion in tavern. Wizards suspected” was the summary line of the top document. Skulks stared at it for a moment and then tipped the whole to-do tray into the bin. He reached for the second tray and dragged it closer to him. “Crime syndicate to be investigated” it said, before following the first tray into the bin. By now, a mere ten seconds into catching up with his duties, Skulks’ eyes had fully glazed over. He left his office, wrinkling his nose as he noticed for the first time that there was a smell of sewerage outside his door, suggesting that the adjacent privies had backed up and were overflowing.
An hour later with the afternoon mostly gone, Frieda Berry looked up at the timid tapping she’d heard on her door. She was in her small, private quarters at the barracks, a privilege of being one of the Hardened army’s only three adepts.
“Come in,” she said. The door opened and Tan Skulks walked in, looking uncomfortable, as if someone had tipped a big cup of spiders down the back of his trousers.
“I would value your advice, Adept Berry,” he said with excessive formality, for she did not mind being called Frieda.
“What can I do to help you, Captain Skulks?” she asked.
“Now that I am back in Ko-Chak, I feel that the demonic attacks upon me will begin again soon.”
“That is likely,” she admitted. “Have you spoken to Captain Honey about a bodyguard?”
Skulks looked momentarily nonplussed, for he certainly didn’t require a bodyguard. “I have not come looking for protection, rather for advice about how I can track down my would-be murderer.”
“I see,” said Berry, remembering that Skulks was capable of looking after himself. “I must confess that I think it most underhand to attempt your death without the culprit revealing their identity, but not everyone who practises magic is honourable.”
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“Indeed not,” replied Skulks a little bit too eagerly.
“The person you are pursuing must be a mage of reasonable competency to summon forth a demon, for demons do not take lightly to being summoned and are often of a disposition to consume the summoner, rather than listen to their offer. This is unlike the conjuring of, say, a common baboon, which is easily brought forth and controlled.”
“The only mage of power I have encountered recently is Tiopan Lunder, and the attacks started while he was still imprisoned.”
“There has been no other mage?” asked Berry, probing gently.
“No, none,” said Skulks, wrinkling his brow. “Having said that, there has been another, though I thought her weak. Could an adept summon demons, do you think?”
“I am an adept, though in truth I have more power than some who call themselves ‘wizard’. The title is not always indicative of the magic-user’s ability.”
“Ryanda Tremble!” exclaimed Skulks. “The last I saw her was in Lunder’s house in High Domes. This could be her doing, for she has attempted to kill me before!” Tremble was no friend of Skulks, and in their previous meeting he’d outwitted her, locked her in a room, knocked Lunder out cold and then escaped back to Hardened.
“You may be correct,” said Berry noncommittally, for she was unaware of the story behind Skulks’ recent trip to High Domes.
“Can I track this evil woman down with magics?” asked Skulks, hopeful that he could turn the tables on Tremble using her own weapons.
“I am not aware of such a spell but there may be other wizards who can do this. Perhaps you need to speak to some of them at the Convention.”
“Lady Berry, I thank you kindly for your advice! I will follow your suggestion forthwith!”
Twenty-One
Hardened was an accommodating city. Welcoming, one might say. As such, the arrival of wizards was seen as an opportunity to meet new people and to experience the world-renowned Wizards’ Convention, which was known to be an excellent, yet slightly dangerous affair. In the interests of openness, as well as scenting an opportunity to make a few extra Slivers, some of the taverns nearest the Heavenly Snouts Auditorium had changed their names to show support for the Convention.