by Matt Forbeck
For my part, though, the only one depending on me was Moira. I wasn’t worried about Bellezza. She’d handled herself just fine for the past decade and would manage without my help.
Of course, there were the Gütmanns too. They deserved some kind of justice. I owed them — and Anders — that much at least.
“I think I have a good handle on it,” I said. Then I rubbed my unshaven chin. “Now that I think about it, though, there are a few things you might be able to help me with.”
“Like what?” Kells leaned forward, eager to do whatever he could.
I put my hands on the table before me. “I could use a good gun.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kells cracked a grin at me. “That we can handle for sure,” he said. “What are you looking for?”
“Who are you going up against?” Cindra said. She had a great way of cutting right to the heart of the matter.
“Ever hear of the Black Hand?”
They shared an uncertain glance with each other. “Are you serious?” Cindra said.
“It’s either the real thing or someone who wants me to think it is,” I said. “Either way, it’s the same thing as far as weapons are concerned. I tagged the jackass with my wand once, but —”
“But you want something that you don’t have to prepare ahead of time,” Kells said. “Something you just point and pull.”
“That’s about right.”
“Those Black Hand assassins are supposed to be fast,” Cindra said. “They like to fight in close quarters. The shorter your barrel, the better.”
Kells nodded. “So no rifles. You’ll do better with your wand at any kind of range. But you might want something with a bit more punch than a pistol.”
Cindra agreed. She reached into a shoulder bag hanging from the back of her chair, rummaged about inside it for a bit, and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun that seemed like it barely could have fit inside the oiled leather bag. She set it on the table in front of her, and its silver barrel gleamed in the reflected sunlight streaming in through the Quill’s high windows, which looked over a steep drop down the mountainside.
“You don’t mess around,” I said with a low whistle.
“Nope.” She traced the runes engraved into the weapon’s barrel. “These should help with your accuracy, always an issue with short-barreled weapons like this.” She ran her hand over the runes carved into the gun’s wooden stock. “These are for speed.”
“I didn’t think someone with your skills needed any help like that,” I said.
She gave me a satisfied grin. “When you’re going up against other people with magical enhancements, it only makes sense to level the field.”
Kells pulled a couple boxes of shells out of the bag too. “This is a sharp assortment of payloads for you too,” he said. “Half of them are just your standard boomers, good for putting holes in people or things. Excellent, actually. The blue ones can freeze a target solid. The red ones detonate with a fireball on impact. The green ones burst with an acidic splash.”
“Got any that let off a bouquet of fireworks?” I asked, incredulous. They walked around with this stuff in their bag? Maybe they weren’t quite as settled down as I’d thought.
“Of course.” Kells smirked at me. “But I save those for midsummer’s eve and the kids’ birthdays. They love them.”
I drew my wand and said a few clever words, then tapped my shoulder holster with it. It expanded a little bit, giving me just enough space to slip the scattergun into it too, right alongside where the wand went. I tried it out.
It felt comfortable enough, and with my jacket over it, most people wouldn’t know it was there until I went for it. I patted the gun in its new home.
“Thanks,” I said. “This might help even the odds.”
“If you have a bit more time and don’t mind walking around with a long gun strapped to your back, I can set you up with something more substantial,” Cindra said. “That’s a mean little gun, but you have to reload it after every shot.”
“On the other hand, one shot from that vicious thing is usually enough,” Kells said.
I tapped one standard shell from the ammo box, broke open the gun, and loaded it. I locked it back with a flip of my wrist, then stuffed it back in my holster.
“Normally I wouldn’t advise walking around with a loaded weapon,” Kells said. “However, the gun’s charmed against accidental discharge. The only way it goes off is if there’s a finger on the trigger.”
“Good to know.” I looked at them both. “Thanks.”
Kells shrugged. “It’s the least we can do, right? You’re the one looking for the fight. We’re just helping make sure you win it.”
Cindra squeezed my shoulder. “Here’s hoping you don’t have to use it.”
I shared her wish but not her optimism. This day had already been too damn bloody, and I suspected it would get worse before it got better.
“You seen any of the rest of the old crew around lately?” I asked. “Maybe one of them might know where Moira is.”
Cindra pursed her lips as she thought about it. Kells shook his head. “We don’t get down here too often,” he said. “You should ask Thumper though. He’d know.”
“Good point.” I stood up and used my wand to tap the ammo boxes. They shrunk down to a more manageable size, and I stuffed them in my jacket pockets. “Thanks again,” I said as I turned to leave. “I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
“Good luck,” Kells said.
Cindra gave me a worried smile. “Hope you won’t need it.”
I walked back to the bar and set my empty glass down on it. That brought Thumper over to check on me straight away.
“Like that?” he said with a smile. “Care for another?”
“I would,” I said, “but I need to find Moira, fast. If you hear anything about her, you let me know?”
“Of course.”
I leaned against the bar. “You seen any of the rest of the old crew around here lately?”
Thumper smirked. “You mean besides you, Moira, Bellezza, Cindra, and Kells?”
That was a good start, I had to admit. There were a few others I could cross off the list too. Ames had been killed not so long ago, while she’d been on duty as a member of the Auxiliary Guard. Kai’s cousin Sig had taken the fall for it, even though he’d been trying to save her life instead. The Guard didn’t ask too many questions when they found an orc kneeling over the corpse of one of their own though.
Thumper thought about it for a moment. “Matter of fact, yeah. Danto was in here the other night. I saw him chumming around with Moira.”
The wizard had always been friendly with Moira, which I had never understood until I figured out she was supplying him with dragon essence. He’d been so shaken by our final venture that he’d taken to it to supplement his magical powers, or so he said. Maybe he just liked getting high.
“What about Kai?”
Thumper shook his head. “He’s not welcome around here any more after that incident with Moira a while back. I don’t like people who arrange for the Imperial Dragon’s Guard to come in and shoot up my place.”
I sympathized with that. The fact that Kai had sold out Moira for a different murder rap hadn’t endeared him to me much either, no matter his reasons. Still, I’d helped Moira beat that, and the bar looked as good as new now, just with a few extra bullet holes adding to the decor.
And Kai knew how to handle a gun. For lending that skill when I needed it most, I could forgive a lot.
I fished a gold dragon out of my pocket and tossed it at Thumper. He caught the coin in midair with a grin. “Thanks.”
I tipped my hat at him and headed for the door. I had a wizard to visit.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Of all of us, Danto had done the most with his money. Kai and Sig, for example, had blown through their shares of the treasure we’d recovered within a couple years and were back hiring themselves out as street muscle soon after. Moira was much the sa
me, but she’d turned to running dragonfire and selling dragon essence instead.
Cindra and Kells had used their cash as a stake for starting their family. Ames had been too fond of fighting to give it up, but she’d found a productive outlet for it by joining the Auxiliary Guard. Bellezza hadn’t really needed the money in the first place. She’d been in it for the thrills, and those had worn through with Gütmann’s death.
I’d stuffed mine away and tried to keep my head down — plus made a few investments. Some of those had panned out, while others hadn’t. Buying into the Quill as a silent partner had been the best of them all, especially as far as leniency on my bar tab was concerned.
Danto, though, he’d taken his cash and built himself a tower right up there in the heart of Wizards Way, only spitting distance from the Academy of Arcane Apprenticeship, otherwise known as A3. It wasn’t the tallest tower in the district — not anymore — although it had been on the day it was built. Wizards can be competitive that way.
Moira liked to ask Danto what he was compensating for with a tower like that. He eventually gave up trying to add onto it to make the biggest one and settled into making it the best instead. He built the most amazing laboratory and library for his arcane research that I’d ever seen.
He took in a number of apprentices of his own, people that the Academy either wouldn’t accept or had already kicked out. I’d even taken a few lessons from him myself back in those early days. Trouble is that I’m pragmatic when it comes to magic. I don’t want to create it, just use it, but Danto worked on a much higher plane, prying apart the way magic worked.
Like most wizards who delve too deep into the mysteries of the universe, he was more than a little — I think the kind word is “eccentric.” Beats calling him “bat-shit looney.”
I don’t know how that works. Does the magic drive the wizards nuts, or are crazy people drawn to the arcane arts? I don’t suppose it mattered much. Either way, it wound up putting a lot of power in the hands of some unstable minds.
The Imperial Dragon’s Guard was charged with keeping a lid on that simmering pot of magical madness, making sure it didn’t boil over — at least not too often. Most smart people avoided Wizards Way when they could, and they gave the Academy a wide berth on the best of days. Those who lived there put up with the random acts of magic as best they could, pinning their hopes on the fact that few of the troubles killed people outright. Those that didn’t were usually fixable.
Normally, I didn’t go anywhere near the place myself. Wizards Way ran along the top of a westerly spur of the mountain that stabbed out from the regular slope, and it was a hassle to get to on foot. You had to walk up to Gnometown and from there climb up a switchback street to an altitude that let you look down on the Stronghold’s Gate.
The Academy itself sat on the very precipice of that spur, soaring into the air over the rest of Dragon City, its ivory walls gleaming in the sunlight. The outermost edge of the building arced out far over the open air below, with nothing seeming to keep it in the air but some sort of architectural magic. It had a huge levitator system there that raised and lowered passengers from the bottom of the building to the Village below, the oldest part of town.
Years ago, Danto had warned me against trusting the levitators there unless I had some kind of flying spell handy as I went. “They let the students run the damn things, keep the spells maintained,” he said. “How well do you think they work? They lost at least a half dozen people on the last Parents Day.”
So I hailed myself a flying carpet instead and gave the hack Danto’s address. He zipped away into the sky without even a blink, happy to have a fare to such a ritzy address.
I hadn’t been up this way to visit Danto in far longer than I cared to contemplate. He came down to the Quill when he wanted to see me or any of the old crew, but for the most part he’d put that part of his life behind him. Being a tomb-robber might have been a great way to jumpstart his career, but he’d been striving for respectability ever since.
The respect of wizards didn’t come cheap, and since Danto was human, he didn’t have as much time to spend on building it the old-fashioned way. The elves, dwarves, and gnomes who ran the Academy and had been a part of it for centuries could afford to take their time at earning the envy of their peers. Danto didn’t have that luxury. He took shortcuts whenever he could.
That’s why he’d joined up with us in the first place. He’d tried to cut too many corners at the Academy, and they’d kicked him out. Going out and picking through old tombs for treasure and relics of power had been his only option for making it as a big-time mage before old age took him down.
Even at the time, I hadn’t been so sure that taking up with the rest of us was the best thing for him, but I was happy to have a decent mage along with us anyhow. It took the pressure off of me, and he saved our collective skins from being stripped and tanned more times than I cared to count.
Still, success hadn’t been everything for him that he’d hoped it would be. Much as I liked him, he was a fool. Putting money in a fool’s hand only makes him a rich fool — and not always for long.
As we rose into the sky, the hack tried to take me on the grand tour of the Academy. I’ll admit, it’s damn impressive from that angle, but I’d seen it all before and didn’t care to go through it again. I tapped the man on the shoulder.
“I’m not a tourist,” I said. “Just get me there.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The hack gave me an unembarrassed nod and sent the carpet into a steep enough dive that I grabbed and made use of the sewn-in wrist straps to either side of me. We skimmed right past the edge of the Academy rather than rolling high over the top of it and then zipped straight down Wizards Way from there until we reached the short spur of pavement that led to Danto’s place.
The hack set me down in the dead end there, surrounded by the high-walled courtyards of wizards’ towers on three sides. He offered to wait for me, but I paid him and waved him on his way. As I got off, I craned back my neck to see peer at the tops of this trio of structures. Danto’s black stone tower was the shortest of the three, which I’m sure offered no end of irritation to him.
Pennants flapped from the tops of each of the towers. Some days, clouds would swallow this part of the mountain whole, making it hard to see much farther than your hand, but today I could make out the colors and the heraldry on each of those banners. Danto’s was the only one that didn’t feature a dragon.
Some might see that as a sign of a wizard’s absentmindedness. Others might guess that the tower’s owner had fallen from the Imperial Dragon’s favor, but I knew the truth. It was just Danto’s way of snubbing the big lizard.
Like I said, Danto’s a fool. It’s one thing to not like the Dragon, or to maybe gripe about him over a pint down at the Quill. It’s another thing entirely to thumb your nose at him from the top of your large and ostentatious home in his city.
I walked up to the massive steel gate set in the curtain wall surrounding Danto’s courtyard. I thought about just climbing over the thing and letting myself in, but I knew he’d have the place magically monitored and trapped. While tackling that challenge might have been entertaining on another day, I had too many troubles on my mind.
I pulled the velvet rope that dangled from an outcropping near the gate, and I heard a bell bonging atop the tower. Danto liked his neighbors to know when he had guests.
Soon, a young human woman with long brown hair and dressed in an apprentice’s long, silk coat appeared at the gate. Literally. It seemed as if she’d stepped out of midair.
“I’m afraid Master Danto is not seeing visitors —” she started to say.
“He’ll see me,” I said. “Tell him Max is here.”
She gave me the kind of regretful grimace all subordinates use when forced to carry out their boss’s dirty work. “I am sorry,” she said. “His orders were quite explicit.”
“I’m sure they were.” I gave her a false smile. I hadn’t come a
ll this way to get turned away at the door. “I’m an old friend. Those don’t apply to me.”
“I wish I could help you,” she said. “Have a good day.”
With that, she turned on her heel, and two steps later she disappeared again.
I wasn’t about to let that slide, so I pulled out my wand, drew a bead between myself and the tower’s front door, which lay around its base to the right, I knew. Then I let fly with a good shock.
The woman squealed in pain and surprise. She leaped back into visibility, grabbing her scorched coat where I’d zapped her.
The woman spun about on one heel and glared at me. “How dare you?” she said as she stormed back toward me.
“Daring’s easy,” I said, keeping my wand out and ready. “You should try it.”
She struggled to keep her composure. The jolt I’d given her smarted, I knew, but that just set her on edge. It was the fact that I’d gotten her even while she was invisible that threatened her.
“I thought I was clear,” she said. “Master Danto is not accepting visitors today.”
“I’m more like family,” I said. “And if you don’t let me in, I’ll undo some of the charms holding this place together, and you can explain to Danto just whose fault it is when he comes running to fix things up after the crash.”
She paled a bit at that. Another apprentice came charging up behind her then, a young dwarf woman with wide, angry eyes. “What’s going on here, Emily?” she asked.
Emily stabbed a finger through the gate at the wand I still held in my hand. I fought back the temptation to grab it and show her how dumb it was to do something like that. Instead, I let her talk.
“This man zapped me with a shock spell,” she said. “I told him the master is indisposed, but he doesn’t want to hear it.”
The dwarf pursed her lips as she scanned me up and down. “And what is your name, sir?”
“Max Gibson.”
The dwarf’s eyes grew even larger at that, but her astonishment washed the anger out of them. “Gibson?” she said. “He’s been asking for you.”