by D. H. Aire
Donnialt nodded, relieved that the decision was out of his hands and that somehow the boys were to be made safe outside the Academy. But he understood neither Stenh’s words, or his mood. The Master of Apprentices left the Master’s Chamber quietly, feeling it would be easier to write the final dispositions in the Book.
Stenh leaned back in his chair as the door closed behind Donnialt. Softly he began the chant that was not a spell, but one of the earliest lessons taught to children’s nursery rhymes, then later in primary school.
//At the last, Gate Above Wide, So Said the Guardian to Empress,// he sang. //The Fey and the Uman, by Blood of Faer, One People, One Magic hence. Magic of Man, that strength once mete equal, Lore of Man, in time dids’t fail. The Fey and the Uman, by Blood of Faer, One Magic, One People hence. Magic of the Faer, to Uman Rue rules true,
//Ewer Shall it sway, two ere us together. The Fey and the Uman, by Blood of Faer, One People hence One Magic. A new People rise to reign as one. One Magic, One Source, By Blood of Faer, Fey and Uman Bound, One Magic People forever hence.//
Stenh choked out the last refrain, then after a time muttered, “Alrex, ours was such a simple way.”
Terhun entered the merchant’s stall, intent on sponsoring Jeo some ale over a fine lunch. In such a way, he once more hoped to learn more of the man. But when he entered, he found Jeo concluding a sale. Items containing tin were spread upon the trade carpet and the eldest of the four dwarves was counting out coin, gold coins.
Terhun hung back, momentarily puzzled by this exchange, then Jeo’s partner Sean exclaimed, “Wait!”
The dwarves were preparing to count out coin for all the tin items Jeo the Merchant could provide. “We’ve more here!”
They hesitated as Jeo muttered in puzzlement, “No, we don’t.” But already his partner was rushing heedless to the front of the wagon and rummaging under the driver’s perch to come out with tin cups. The dwarf’s eyes alit at the sight of more tin. “Those aren’t for sale!” Jeo rasped.
“We pay top price!” exclaimed the woman dwarf, her hair bunded at the sides of her head. The grey haired dwarf hurriedly approached Sean to get a better look at the tin bowls, lying within bowls. Jeo ungently took them from his partner’s hands.
She promptly told the elderly dwarf, “They’re fine work, notice the scrolling?”
“I said, they are not for sale,” railed Jeo.
The dwarf elder turned back to his companions. “These are not items to be smelted and recast, Family.” The mother looked crestfallen as the elder dwarf bowed to the merchant. “Yours is one of the rare stalls with any tin at all, good Merchant. My family has been buying up as much as we may as I explained, for recasting, but never have we explained to any other why we do this.”
The woman came forward, anxiously ringing her hands. “Our daughter marries this year. This is the only child we have left. The others died in the Dark Times that brought us to the Capitol. She must have a wedding dress.”
Jeo and his partner both frowned, while Terhun, behind them, nodded in understanding even as the elderly dwarf hesitated. His were a clever people, not wanting to give advantage to merchants at such times as these.
“Tin is the favored metal for weddings in Tane,” Terhun whispered.
The dwarf frowned at Terhun, nodding. The mother hastily turned back to Jeo with a hopeful smile. “Please, good Merchant, the tin must be softly beaten, etched, and shined for the wedding dress. We left Tane to come here long ago, but we are a very traditional people. Our daughter did not have the sense to tell us she felt love when she looked upon gentle Stievan… The other families have had time to prepare for their daughter’s weddings! We have but a year!”
Jeo leaned upon his staff. “But tin is not that rare a metal.”
They looked at him in mute astonishment. Jeo abruptly cursed himself for displaying an ignorance that made even Terhun suspiciously frown at him.
The Elder shook his head, gazing longingly at the bowls and cups “Such work could be etched for decoration and served the bride and groom, saving us many months work.”
The mother’s eyes widened, “Yes! Please! Will you bargain with us?”
Jeo sighed and nodded, looking at them longingly. They made good pieces to take along during fieldwork. It was the archeologist in him, the only part of him that gave him any solace, adrift in the strange land. “Let us speak of this without price then— it shall be my wedding gift.”
His partner choked. Jeo felt much better then. Terhun gaped at him, while the dwarves stared for but a moment before stomping their feet with joy.
Urchins
6
The sun was setting. The urchin looked behind him to make sure he was not followed, then crawled through a maze of abandoned crates until he reached the darkened fracture visible between foundation and the wall above it.
The urchin got on his back and squeezed under it to work himself inside the abandoned warehouse. Once within he sat up. The last rays of light made the windows high up, whether shattered or whole, glow redly. Walking down the outer corridor, the urchin shimmied down a stair deep into the foundations of the place. He pushed past the draped blankets that cut off any light inside or out and entered the main cellar.
Little fires burned, providing both light and a warm broth to the returning pack. “Gallen!” one shouted, seeing him.
“Gallen!” others began to greet.
The lithe urchin veered his way across the room of fifty-three boys wearing nothing but rags, delightfully happy. Gallen negotiated his way to his command center, their place of stores. Piles were raised high, fifty odd bags each stuffed with what inventory only Gallen and his most trusted Leftenants ever knew. In case of forced flight, each rat would flee with one, irregardless of what might be considered most precious. Only in such a way had the pack the mobility it needed to function as an organized unit and not be just any rabble of urchins homeless and alone in the Tiers.
“Leftenants to report in!” Gallen snapped.
Three children of indeterminate age rose from among the arms of the pack and quickly reached Gallen. Each bowed in “fealty-to-nobles.”
Gallen laughed at them, “Where are you learning such airs?”
Chuckling, Ruke presented Gallen a sparkling gem. Gallen held it up, turning it from side to side, “Festival can be such a profitable time!”
“Ruke bowed like dat afore the merch,” said Andre.
“De one dat tossed ‘im out,” amended Colvin, grinning.
Ruke laughed, “‘ever saw me ‘ake dat one, do fear’d I wou’d.”
Clutching it tight in hand, Gallen said, “Speak proper! My word, you bring in the Price that will square us with the Prince for a good month and you get so excited you forget your lessons!”
Ruke chagrinned, swallowed, then replied, “My pardon, Lord.”
“Our pardon, Sire!” exclaimed Colvin.
“Happenstance of birth!” Andre added wryly.
Gallen put the bauble into his pouch as Ruke said, “Not all went as easily today.”
“That’s for certain.”
Gallen looked at the three. “Clawd’s fine— and what a tale I have for the pack tonight.”
“Not what we meant,” said Ruke carefully.
“Best we talk in private,” knowing they were going to talk about Juels. Gallen shook his head. First the urchin tries to rob a merch apprentice, who in turn actually offers him a job that had made Jeo the Merchant a “Matter of Interest.” Knowledge was always worth something to someone.
They spoke behind the inventory. Ruke had been in charge once they realized that something had gone terribly wrong with young Clawd. He had sent out the word and they had come only in time to see Gallen’s signal to follow the figure in black, a gesture of curiosity not peril.
They had followed the figure and Juels had fallen behind, as usual, then they lost whoever it was completely after a merry chase.
“I’ll talk with Juels, but Ruke, you’re hi
s mentor. Or are you telling me that you want help?”
Gallen’s Rules were many. Most concerned odd things: taking cheese rather than copping cake, eating fruits and vegetables whenever possible, keeping their hair cropped; then there were the games. Could they wash themselves in the aqueduct or in the canal without getting caught? How many days each week?
But the ultimate Rules of the Pack Gallen enforced concerned training and behavior. The Pack was all the family they had. That meant responsibilities.
Ruke nodded to Gallen, “I respectfully ask on behalf of the Rat in question.”
Gallen sighed, “I will take over the training. Andre, I will need some Seconds... Choose hard ones.” The Leftenant nodded. “If there is nothing else, you’re dismissed. Ruke send Juels over here, please.”
“Yes, Milord.”
Andre hesitated as the others left. Gallen met his gaze wordlessly, when the others were out of sight. Gallen went through the bag squirreled deep underneath the pile. He pulled out the white cloth material.
“I’m going to need double for myself, the rest I’ll pass out, uh, the usual Pack Rats.” Andre whispered, immediately sticking some of the folded material into her pants, unabashed.
“I do not want this to become a problem, Andre.”
The Leftenant looked up at him, “This Pack is old enough that it’s just becoming more difficult to hide being a girl.”
“Then there is nothing else to do,” Gallen grimaced and whispered heatedly, “We can’t have Rats trying to crawl into other Rats pants! I want you to come up with a plan to liberate some charms against pregnancy! Specially pick which Pack Rats do the job, but I don’t want to hear of the slightest rumor about girls being among the urchins! Incidents like what, almost happened to Clawd, if the target was a Pack Rat, would get us raided for whores!”
Andre sighed, “I know... I’ll come up with a plan by week’s end.”
“Good.”
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I think after Juels finishes his retraining, you’ll have to add him to my Pack Rats.”
“Shit... You’ve seen the signs?”
“He doesn’t play the Washing Game by the rules. He’s been breaking into abandoned houses to bathe.”
Gallen muttered, “That’s the worse kind of dangerous!”
“Remember what kind of trouble you had to get me out of doing just such a fool thing –– for the very same reason?”
Gallen laid a hand on Andre’s shoulder, then saw an urchin kicking up dust at the edge of the inventory. “Andre, leave us... Juels, come over here. I believe you have a bit of explaining to do?”
Juels swallowed hard, telling Gallen what had happened, trying to gloss over details about his new friend. Gallen would have none of that. “Tell me everything this Raven person said to you.”
Nervously, Juels did.
Gallen listened, but just kept having the oddest feeling. A girl child named Raven just walking the streets in a jerkin and not another care in the world? “I want you to repeat to me everything about this friend you made today.”
Juels swallowed uneasily finding Gallen’s questions on just about everything impossible to evade. Gallen was so intent he only warned Juels of the dangers abandoned houses posed to the even the wary, as an afterthought.
Gallen released Juels to rejoin the rest of the Pack nervously. Who was this girl child walking half-naked through the street’s without a care about the vagaries of the Seventh Tier?
“Find it, Terhun!”
The caravaner shook his head, “You say two urchins stole it. How could you be so careless with such a thing?”
“Careless? Do you know the cost of putting an enchantment on something like that? I made it look almost worthless until I could approach just the right buyer!”
“So worthless looking that you kept it among your other jewel stones? Only you could have been such a fool, Bryan.”
“Get it back, Terhun! Get it back or I’ll see the Lyai adds you head to his trophy room wall!”
Terhun looked at the merchant grimly, “The theft happened under your guard, not my Bond to you.”
Desperate, Bryan said, “You know the ways of such places as this, I know, I hear. I, too, am a loyal servant to our master the Lyai.” Terhun gazed at the merchant narrowly. “Would you— for a price, say, consider leading the search for the jewel?”
“What kind of price?”
“Information... On a regular basis from impeccable sources in Llewellyn?”
Terhun’s eyes widened, “So, you’ve found a buyer and lost the jewel the very same day?”
The merchant despaired, “Yes, and the mage is willing enough to even provide me a ‘Tracker’ but without one such as you, I’ll never be certain if the jewel was found or naught... I promise you excellent sources in Llwyllen Province, would not that serve the Lyai’s needs?”
“If the sources are given directly to me, no longer to be in your pay.”
The merchant nodded hastily, “Done... I doubt I will be doing future business there in any case.”
Which was when Terhun knew he had made a mistake, events in Llewellyn must be so bad that Bryan felt his sources to soon be worthless. In any case, Terhun said, “Have that Tracker meet me here.”
The merchant nodded, then muttered as Terhun left to round up his men, “At least that enchantment offers a trail for such like to follow.”
Night fell and Gallen frowned as Ruke’s and Colvin’s sergeants reported, out of breath and dismayed that they had been searching for Ruke and Colvin for the better part of two hours.
“Gallen,” Epemi said, “when dey miss’d deir las’ rendezvous, we knew somethin’ ‘us wrong. We sent ever’un we could fin’ to search.”
Angrily, Gallen shouted, “You should have sent someone to find me!”
“You were far around and up in de Sixth trainin’ Juels, it made no sense to ev’n try!” Epemi rasped.
Andre placed a hand on Gallen’s arm. “They had night coming on, they knew that they had little time. Soon you would return here. They did what the Rules specified.”
“The Pack’s safety is to be considered first and foremost,” Gallen muttered, then groaned.
“We doubl’d de guards and veryfi’d no one else ‘as gone missin’.”
Despairing, Gallen nodded, “Then we search anew in the morning and hope for the best.”
The black robed figure arose at dawn and descended the Tiers. Guildmen, freehaulers, and merchants began their daily chores. When she entered the Seventh Tier she caught sight of the urchins. The moved in a methodical pattern, searching for something— or someone, she realized. Warily, the black robed figure followed in their wake, looking for a particular urchin.
The breeze reached the beast’s nostrils with a scent it recognized. The beast turned its head and saw the urchin named Juels hurriedly enter the alley across from Jeo’s merchant stall.
The sounds of rubbish crates being urgently moved came to the beast’s sensitive ears, then as abruptly as the urchin entered, the urchin exited. Peering into windows upon tiptoes, Juels tried to look everywhere. The worry and concern edged the scent the urchin left as Juels hurried down the street.
That was enough to make the beast rise and draw dismayed glances from Terhun’s bonded guards that secured the merchant’s wares each night after the Market Festival crowds cleared the streets for evening. The tether suddenly snapped as the beast bounded out into the street. The guards glanced at each other, “You going after it?”
“Not my job!”
“Nor mine!”
They never saw the beast shimmer as it ran, pull back, then leaping as if it might fly. The collar and tether fell forward into the street and a pale black crested falc took to the air in its place.
Faeryn Magery
7
Hyram knelt before the tapestries the master weavers had laid out. “These hues, can you truly recapture them?” Everatt asked for the fourth
time.
“As I told you, there will be much to study. However, as Lord Faeryn always said, ‘What one learned, another can learn.’”
“But can they be mastered in time for the Empress’s Ball?” asked Master Tevor.
Shrugging, “Mayhap, one hue in so short a time.”
“Then seek the violet. Cloth of such magnificent color would please the Empress and well make our sales for the season,” Everatt stated.
“Oh, the violet alone will be to the envy of the out-Province Guilds!” exclaimed Tevor.
Nodding, Hyram casually asked, “Tell me more of this merchant human you purchased these tapestries from.”
“Hmm,” Tevor murmured, staring in wonder at the spread tapestry before him. “He said he bought these at auction in Lyai, otherwise, he seemed most unremarkable.”
“Did he now, in Lyai,” muttered Hyram, the Faeryn trained Guildmage to the Weaver’s Craft. “How interesting.”
“Take the day off he tells me,” Balfour muttered disheartened.
The carriage jostled slightly hitting a rut in the street. Me’oh clutched the window frame and took a deep breath, Balfour was instantly solicitous as he took her hand and closed his eyes to concentrate. Mentally, without uttering the spells that other healers in the Empire employed, he reached out to her and felt the nausea that was momentarily hers due to her pregnancy.
Me’oh sighed in instant relief as the nausea dissipated. “You are such a wonder, m’lord.”
“Stop that,” he mumbled, coming out of his trance-like healing rapport. “I do believe a certain friend of ours has been right to complain about this title business. I am becoming as truly sick of the sound of the terms as he.”
With a wicked little smile, Me’oh replied haughtily, “Do not be silly, m’lord husband. All Cathartan lords must be accorded their due.”
“What? Do you mean to introduce me to a hundred more wives then?” he chuckled.