Hoyle sighed. He recognized the squat man from his gait and the same clothes he wore day after day. Coop had just made this woman a pouch full of coins poorer. Hoyle sighed again and stood. He wondered at her interest in the tower. He was going to have to introduce himself.
---o---
Reaching the ground at the side of the building, he stayed in the shadows as he watched Coop disappear around a corner. He drifted through the lengthening shadows, expecting to see the lamplighters appear any time to light, and refill if necessary, the three pace high oil lamps spaced about ten spans apart along the major avenues and city squares. All the lamps did was give false comfort to the unwary, and more shadows for him and his ilk to work within and from.
Moving quietly in his soft-soled leather boots, he approached Coop, whose real name was Cooper. “How much?” he asked as Coop poured the coins from the woman’s coin pouch into his hand.
Coop jumped, just about dropping his precious haul. “None of your business. Go away,” Coop replied indignantly, turning his back on Hoyle.
“I will let you take two marks, but I take the rest – and the pouch” he stated glibly. “That’s more than fair trade for the amount of work you’ve done to ‘earn’ it.”
“What makes you think I’m going to give you any?” Coop queried still with his back to Hoyle.
“You mistook my statement for a question. I’m not asking.”
Coop turned to face him, a jagged knife in his hand, but stopped short as the point of Hoyle’s rapier rested against his throat. “Wha-?” Coop sputtered.
“Mine’s longer.” He smiled. “You’ll have trouble drinking all that money away if you have a hole in your throat. Two marks, the rest are mine. That’s more than enough to keep you drunk for a week. Or...”
“Fine, but the guild’s going to hear of this,” Coop threatened, as he counted out two marks worth of coin and tossed the pouch with the remaining coin to Hoyle.
“Much obliged,” he quipped, “but I’m in a different guild. My apologies.”
Coop grunted something about Hoyle watching his back as he returned his knife to his belt and drifted into the deepening shadows.
---o---
Hoyle returned to the corner of the building and surveyed the square. To his right was the Goralon tower, three buildings over. A guard now stood beside the front door in similar, non-descript garb as that of the soldiers who had tried to kill him just this morning. Hoyle was pretty sure this one was different from the three this morning. He was certainly not the massive Brows or the skeletal Whisper, but he wasn’t completely certain.
The woman had returned to sitting on the fountain wall, still staring at the tower and fidgeting. She had one hand clasped around something under her robes, possibly a necklace or brooch. Hoyle watched for some time; watched her stand, move toward the tower, then change her mind and go back and sit down. She did this several times. The guard noticed too, and seemed to have a bored indifference, but even at this distance Hoyle could sense more than see a predatory gleam in the soldier’s eyes. The woman must be somewhat comely, but as Hoyle could now only see her from the side, with her cloak up over her head, the only thing he had been able to tell was that she was tall, and had long shapely legs.
Finally, the woman got up and strode toward the tower, her chin held high. This could be interesting thought Hoyle, as he rounded the corner and sauntered two buildings closer, trying to stay inconspicuous. He leaned against a post holding up the second floor of the building beside the Tower grounds. To get to the front door of the tower, all Hoyle had to do was pass the front wall of what he assumed was the stable, the gate and two spans of the building front.
The woman reached the bottom of the stairs and called to the guard “I have business with your master.” She was still gripping the necklace beneath her robes.
“Sure you do little lady” responded the guard slyly. From this vantage point Hoyle could confirm the gleam in the guard’s eye. “What’s his name?”
The woman seemed taken aback for a moment, apparently thinking. “He didn’t provide one. He told me to come here if I wanted training as a wizard,” she replied somewhat shakily.
“Goralon’s got no use for wizards,” the guard answered angrily. “It’s got a use for whores though. Want to come in and spread your legs for me and my boys?”
“You’re a... a... a disgusting pig!” The woman exclaimed.
At this, the guard started moving down the stairs towards the woman. Hoyle moved quickly from his position to intercept the guard. Pretending to be winded, Hoyle stepped between the woman and the guard as he drew his sword. He put his right hand on the guard’s chest, while bending over to ‘catch his breath’. He peeked back at the woman, seeing her face for the first time. She was beautiful.
“Please sir, don’t mind my sister,” he said as he raised his eyes to meet the soldier’s. Thankfully he hadn’t met this particular soldier this morning, thank Voral. “She’s not in her right mind since the death of our mother.”
The guard took a step back, “Get your hands off me!” he demanded, pushing Hoyle backwards into the woman. Hoyle purposely stumbled slightly before standing erect. He faced the guard, the woman a mere handspan behind him.
“Your sister!” the woman cried, “I haven’t seen you before in my life!”
Hoyle looked at the guard, and made a finger motion to his own forehead. “See, so out of her mind with grief that she doesn’t even recognize her own brother,” Hoyle turned to face her, grabbed both her shoulders and looked into her eyes with a wink, “Keela, Keela, don’t you remember me?!” Hoyle said as he shook her shoulders slightly.
The woman looked perplexed, which in this situation worked perfectly, as Hoyle handed the guard an Imperial Mark, and added “Thank you for taking care of her.”
The guard muttered something he could not hear. Hoyle led the woman from the square and down a small side road, until he found a small alley to steer her into. She was still sputtering about the ordeal. She stopped suddenly, realizing where she was.
“What are you doing?” the woman demanded, looking around the tight confines, Hoyle purposely standing, blocking the end of the alley.
“Saving your life,” Hoyle responded quietly, tossing her coin pouch towards her.
“My pouch!” She exclaimed as she caught it out of reflex. “You stole from me, and now you expect me to show you some gratitude?!”
“A little would be nice!” Hoyle replied resentfully, “Do you know what that guard was going to do to you before I stepped in? Do you?” She looked confused.
Hoyle took this moment to study her. She was tall, as tall as him, with long legs under her robes. Her robes and cloak were a deep burgundy, the cloak trimmed with rabbit fur. Her long brown hair fell from the hood of her cloak, her bangs framing the alabaster skin of her face. High cheek bones resided below large, brown, doe-like eyes; ruby lips completed her beauty.
“I returned your purse to you, admittedly lighter than when you lost it, but it was not me who took those coins. I am tempted to leave it three Marks lighter still, just to prove a point to you about paying attention in this city, but I have enough here of my own,” He held up the guard’s coin purse he had just palmed.
“Leave me alone!” the woman demanded, and started past Hoyle who grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the alley.
The woman staggered in the mud and filth littering the narrow chasm between buildings, but then recovered and took two backwards strides. “Cravash!” she intoned, flinging her hands out in front of her body, fingers rigid and pointing at Hoyle. Small marbles of light appeared suddenly and shot towards Hoyle’s chest so quickly he didn’t have a chance to flinch. As they hit his chest, they dissolved into a light mist and dissipated. He could feel his firebird earring grow warm, but other than that, the spell had no other apparent effect. Hoyle looked up from his chest to see the woman’s stunned look.
“You stole the quafa'shilaar,” she whispered just lou
d enough for him to hear.
Chapter 4
Celia was stunned. It all fit together in her mind. The thief must have had some immunity to magic, which is why the magic wards she had cast on the vault hadn’t incapacitated them, and why the magic alarms hadn’t notified her. Here was a thief who had her coin pouch and had quite obviously, based on her failed spell, some immunity to her magic. But why then did her trace spell lead her to this tower, and not to him?
She took a closer look at him as he was touching something by his left ear, or possibly brushing his hair back. He was as tall as her, his eyes at the same level as hers, and he wore fine, though drab, clothing; a dark jacket and trousers under a greyish-green cloak finished with dark leather boots. His face was average, with dark brown eyes, narrow nose, with dark hair dropping down in front to slightly cover his eyes. Completing his look was a neatly trimmed goatee. His only piece of jewelry was an earring in his left ear that was barely visible under the hood of his cloak – a small silver firebird. She could swear that its eyes had just been glowing.
“What? What makes you say that?” the man asked warily, clearly caught off guard.
Celia shook herself. “It only makes sense,” she stated matter-of-fact. “You are obviously a thief, and you are apparently immune to magic. Only someone with both these traits could steal from the Dar'Shilaar embassy.”
“Someone stole from the Dar'Shilaar embassy?!” the man sounded shocked. “They stole magestones?!”
“Only the thief would know that. Further proof,” she accused.
“I beg to differ, but I believe that you just accused me of stealing magestones,” the man retorted nonchalantly, “right after I saved you from what that guard was planning to do...”
Celia grasped her amulet through her robe. She ignored the man’s comment. “The more important question is, if I am correct and you are the thief, then why are the quafa'shilaar in that tower, and not with you?”
She saw him scowl briefly out of the corner of her eye, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. Perhaps she had only imagined it.
“Fine, if you’re not going to thank me, then you’re welcome! I’ll be off now.” The man turned and disappeared out of the alley into the dark.
Celia looked around the dark alley skittishly and hurried after him.
---o---
The man was striding quickly down the narrow side street, away from the tower when she caught up with him, her long strides matching his. He glanced at her sideways, but did not change his gait. She was not sure where he was going, but she was smart enough to know she didn’t want to be alone in Tala’ahar at night. Even being with this thief was better than trying to wind herself back to the embassy through the dark maze of city streets. While the main thoroughfares were lit with oil lamps, connecting the main squares of the city they were not on a main avenue now. It was behind them. They were in the dark heart of the trade district now, twisting and turning past closed shoppes and tall warehouses lining the tight streets, dark alleys like gaping mouths spread at uneven intervals between buildings. Some buildings leaned on others, like drunken friends. Celia could hear movement down some of those alleys, and every once in awhile could see dark shapes moving at the edge of the deep shadows. At those times, the man beside her would slide his rapier slightly out of its scabbard with a slight hiss, and the figures would fade back into the safety of the dark.
After a time of walking, she grabbed his arm gently and offered “Thank you.” While walking through this rats nest, she had had enough time to reflect on the possibilities of what could have happened to her. She was smarter than that, but she had still managed to make a mess of things. “Could we stop for a short rest? It’s been a long day.”
Without slowing, the man glanced at her again, “Not here. Keep walking.” He sounded annoyed. One of the temple bell towers chimed the hour, with others throughout the city joining in. Eight bells.
Celia did not talk again for a while. “Why Keela?”
“What?” the man responded absently, sounding confused.
“Back in the square, you called me Keela,” she replied. “Why Keela?”
“Oh. I used to have a hound named Keela when I was a child. It seemed appropriate... at the time,” he now sounded amused.
“A hound!?” Celia fumed as they kept walking. She had lost track of where they were, except that the glowing lights of the Imperial Sky Citadel hovering a hundred, or maybe fifty, spans above the city gave her a small frame of reference. That was the only landmark she could glimpse between the buildings, and that still did not tell her exactly where they were.
“Okay, what is your name then?” the man asked.
“Celia,” she answered reluctantly.
He laughed loudly, startling her, and several others, based on the sounds she heard from nearby alleys; bottles clinking, one bottle smashing amid curses.
“What’s so funny?” Celia demanded.
“Close enough.” The man stated as they finally rounded a corner to a more brightly lit street. Noises of music, singing and conversation rose from several of the well-lit buildings along the street, distracting Celia. She counted two inns and several taverns along the street before it turned a bend out of sight. Other than the Imperial Way, and its sister Trade Way, she was sure not one other street ran straight in the entire city.
---o---
Stepping into an inn with a sign painted with a red rooster hanging out front, Celia was assaulted by heat, noise, and pipe smoke. While she welcomed the first, coming in from the freezing night air, the other two overwhelmed her senses. The man she was with paused, looking around the crowded common room. He saw someone he apparently knew, grabbed her by the arm and threaded his way through the crowd, dragging her gently behind. As they wound their way towards the back of the room, she glanced around. The inn had a high ceiling in the common room, as they went she supposed, with sleeping room doors overlooking through a balustrade on the walk above. A hearth at each end fed their warmth into the large room. A long bar up the center of the room served drinks on three sides, the fourth opening to what Celia could only assume was the kitchen at the back, based on the smells and noises she could sense from that direction. A small stage sat in the far corner where three musicians played a catchy tune that drifted about the room. The man dragged her past the near end of the bar, heading towards the far corner where his acquaintances sat at a small round table.
As they approached the table, being jostled by the generally jovial crowd, Celia sized up the two women sitting at the table. One of the women was slightly heavier than she, with curling blonde locks and ample curves apparent within her tight blouse under her leather vest. The blonde’s eyes had small wrinkles at the corners that told her that she was prone to smiling, which was confirmed by the twinkle in her eye. The other woman stood as she and the man approached, and gave the man a small kiss that spoke of more than friendship. This woman was tall and lithe, and was dressed in men’s breeches of black leather, with a leather vest over a dark grey blouse, and wore a knife on the belt at her side.
“Hoyle,” she said after she stepped back from the kiss. “Hicks tells me you have gotten yourself into some sort of trouble that even I didn’t know about.” She stated with an arched eyebrow.
“Has she?” the man, apparently named Hoyle, responded looking at the other woman.
“Didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to share,” admitted the second woman they had called Hicks as she picked up her mug and took a long drink. Celia could sense an undercurrent of tension from her that appeared to be directed at either Hoyle or the other woman, or both.
“And who do we have here?” asked the leather clad woman as she settled back into her seat, gesturing to Celia.
The man named Hoyle sat himself in the only other vacant chair, beside the still unnamed woman and introduced her, “Salrissa, Hicks, this is Celia. Celia, this is Salrissa and Hicks.”
As Celia was nodding to the two women who had pierced her
with cold stares, Hoyle had hooked a chair from a neighboring table with his foot, causing the man who had leaned out of it to fall to the floor with a curse. Hoyle presented it to Celia while at the same time glaring at the man who looked ready to start a confrontation. One of his friends grabbed his shoulder and whispered into his ear. The man looked back at Hoyle, who smiled, and the man and his friend moved off.
Celia looked at Hoyle with an arched eyebrow, fingering her amulet under her robe. She didn’t feel she was in immediate danger from these three, yet she didn’t feel entirely safe either. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Celia prodded.
Hoyle looked confused, “Salrissa... Hicks... You... Nope, not forgetting anyone.” He said with a slight smile.
“She means you, you dundering fool!” Hicks explained.
“Oh, what, you didn’t know me by sight?! My reputation hasn’t worked to the far corners of the Empire? I’m wounded...” Hoyle feigned falling off his chair.
All three women rolled their eyes at the same time, and catching the others in the same motion, shared a smile. “His name is Hoyle, and he’s notorious for his overinflated ego and poor dancing skills. Why are you here, Celia?” asked Salrissa warily as Hoyle mimicked getting stabbed in the chest beside her. Salrissa ignored him.
Celia looked around the table at three serious faces, trying to decide where to start, when Hoyle stated quietly “She believes that I stole something from her, more specifically, from the Dar'Shilaar embassy. She’s also interested in the same building I– we are.” At the mention of the embassy, the expressions of the two women facing her became decidedly frigid, though Hicks quirked her eyebrow in Hoyle’s direction.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 3