Starwatch

by Ian Blackport

  “Have you lost your godsdamn mind?” Maylene demanded. “Or are you trying to kill me? I’m not climbing up a nine story tower.”

  “Daring exploit aside, the point is moot,” clarified Cyriana. “The highest library has diminutive windows little more than a few inches in diameter. Even Maylene couldn’t wriggle in that way. Most illumination comes from lanterns.”

  Zalla lifted brown eyebrows. “How has that tower not burned to the ground before?”

  “Who says it hasn’t?” responded Eloran. “Starwatch was founded nine centuries ago, and I know of at least four major fires torching sections in the House of Wisdom.”

  “The chances of an inferno happening again are lessened by the fact it’s mandatory for librarians to escort students through the third floor.” Cyriana popped a grape into her mouth. “This heist would’ve been much simpler if we were all born a century ago, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Does Starwatch have a basement?” Zalla questioned. “A tower that large must need tunnels and sewers.”

  “Conceivably. We don’t know any details on the matter though. Since their grounds stretch to the bay, only a fool architect wouldn’t take advantage.”

  “Galen shit still needs to go someplace like everyone else’s.”

  “Thanks for the image, Desin. But before I send Maylene crawling through feces it’d be worth discovering where the tunnels lead. We should remember Starwatch may only have chutes or sewers too narrow for a person to squeeze through.”

  “I’d also enjoy having input on my role in this particular topic,” Maylene chastised.

  “We’ll shove you through only as a last resort.”

  “How considerate.”

  “This might be a foolish notion, but would they ever evacuate the entire tower?” asked Baskaran. “If a threat they couldn’t ignore presented itself.”

  Cyriana chewed one lip and tapped her temple with a forefinger. “I suppose they might. The suggestion seems plausible at any rate. Though it would require a catastrophic incident to convince the galens to abandon their beloved edifice. I don’t think we have the means to engineer one grand enough. We’ll need an invading army or a similar crisis. And there aren’t any rampaging about in Asdor these days.”

  “I say we hire a band of mercenaries to storm the tower,” Eloran uttered. “Have them take the risks and ransack Starwatch for us. We can enjoy cool drinks in the shade.”

  Maylene rubbed her forehead as though a weary parent dealing with her deplorable offspring. “I don’t even know where to begin on what’s wrong with that plan.”

  “Don’t hear you offering contributions.”

  She lifted a hand and started ticking off fingers. “Ignorant sellswords won’t have a clue what they’re searching for and are more likely to destroy the relic than retrieve it. If the slightest inconvenience or resistance occurs they may opt for a bloodbath and start butchering galens and students alike. Draugans will respond by mobilizing legions and hunt down the mercenaries for slaughter. Our benefactor will naturally hear about a godsdamn invasion launched against Starwatch and might decide we’re irrelevant. Shall I keep going or is everyone satisfied this is the stupidest scheme yet?”

  “I recognized it was before you spoke,” snorted Thorkell.

  Eloran sagged in his chair and folded arms over a faded tunic. Subdued grouching drifted from his lips.

  After a sullen silence Cyriana asked, “No more inquiries or outlandish proposals for now?”

  “I suspect we’ll only broach certain issues once we learn more about what we’re up against,” Thorkell stated. “I can’t speak for the rest, but I’m feeling too uninformed to posit consequential queries.”

  “You aren’t alone,” mumbled Eloran.

  Cyriana clapped her hands together. “Good. On to the next item in the agenda. Maylene, be a dear.”

  “Perk up those ears, folks. Seeing as I’m the only Asdori native in this pack, consider me the authority on all local matters. My word is gospel. Even if you don’t like what I have to say. Arroyo has strict laws different from most other cities. Draugan overlords didn’t see fit to force change following the conquest, owing to their respect for galens. We’ll be skirting plenty laws while here, so if you aren’t keen on being snatched by legionaries and tossed in gaol, you’d better listen. Bells ring on the hour and it’s best you keep track what time it is. Three hours after sundown marks the curfew.”

  “You mean to tell me this city genuinely has a curfew during peacetime?” inquired Baskaran.

  “Don’t fret, the city doesn’t shut down or forbid people from walking the streets. Curfew only means new rules come into place. First off, no one is allowed to walk the avenues while armed. Draugans often look the other way during daylight hours if you’re circumspect, mostly because they can’t be bothered to investigate every living soul. But at night they’ll halt and search you on sight. The lightest slap on the wrist is weapon confiscation, so long as you can sweet talk your way out of more. Eloran, that means you don’t ever carry even a butter knife, because with the mouth you have you’ll talk your way straight into prison.”

  Before Eloran could mutter a retort Zalla raised an inquisitive hand. “Are there no exceptions?”

  “Glad you brought up that point,” responded Maylene. “Certain citizens of reputable standing are issued papers granting them the right to carry arms at all times. From what I can tell, these people are few and far between. One guess who we’ll have forging us those documents. In the meantime choose caution over arrogance. The other big curfew law is you also need to carry a light, whether it’s a candle, lantern or torch. Blokes caught skulking in the shadows are assumed to be doing something nefarious. Given that my entire profession operates in darkness, the suspicion isn’t far off.”

  Cyriana crossed her legs atop a vacant chair and leaned backward. “We’ll make sure a few candle wicks and lanterns are lying around in here for when we’re out late.”

  “How often do locals disobey these stipulations?” Eloran questioned.

  Maylene’s answering shrug was indifferent. “Depends. There’s no shortage of people flaunting the curfew on any given night. Some get shoved in a cell, others don’t. Point is, when we’re out late at night we should be careful. If we’re only wandering from one place back to our inn without fell deeds in mind, it might be best to carry a light. One of us getting pinched while on an innocent stroll when we aren’t even in the midst of a felony wouldn’t bode well for the job.”

  “We also won’t be mounting a rescue operation,” added Cyriana. “Yanking Eloran from a noble’s abode is one thing, but no one’s infiltrating a Draugan gaol. If anyone here is placed under arrest then you’re alone. Best case scenario, you’ll be released after a few days if no other broken laws can be traced to you. Worst case we make do and finish this job with one less person.”

  “Will we have cause to be out during the night?” Thorkell asked.

  “We’ll try avoiding it as best we can until we have a better idea what to expect from this city. Maylene and I will tackle most tasks that need to be done in the dark. This is our bread and butter, and we’ll have a greater chance at avoiding Draugan patrols.”

  “You’ll hear no arguments from me,” Baskaran asserted. “I’d just as soon not cross blades with legionaries while in residence here. Duelists aren’t enamored with armored foes.”

  “No wrong motivation so long as you all listen to our rules like obedient children.” Cyriana regarded her empty goblet with distaste and leaned forward to fetch the flagon. “Time to circle back to the job at hand. First tedious chore is surveillance. Nothing else gets done before we know our bookish enemy. Schmooze the taverns and absorb every rumor and scrap of hearsay you gather. Remember, each detail is relevant until we learn otherwise.”

  Thorkell nudged the green tinged bottle closer to Cyriana. “I’d recommend we each be given a stipend of silver. Nothing loosens tongues like complimentary drinks. I’d like to have the resources
to befriend chaps with plentiful booze.”

  “Done. I’ll make sure coins are in your pockets on the morrow. You’ll also each have an extra purse in case an opportunity for bribery presents itself.”

  “Ah, my favorite words,” Maylene purred.

  Amber wine splashed into Cyriana’s barren mug. “A further addendum before starting this unsavory heist, since we’re an unscrupulous lot if ever one existed. Covetous criminals one and all, that’s us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Zalla said.

  “You are now that you’re in our merry band. We’re a corrupting influence. But while we’re here there’s to be no law breaking of any kind. No thefts, no grifting, no emptying pockets without my say so.”

  “Aw.”

  “Quiet, Maylene. We can’t risk getting nabbed on some half-baked, needless thrill. Obey every teensy law as if a lurking legionary is perched on your shoulder waiting for a slip. Far as we’re concerned, they are. That means don’t even ponder the merits of tossing garbage into the harbor or spitting on the cobbles. Until we plunder Starwatch, we’re the most lawful guests Arroyo has seen in ages. Savvy?”

  Heads nodded affirmatives and all seemed satisfied with the proviso, barring Maylene’s comically exaggerated frown.

  “Come directly to me with any ideas or ploys you craft. Doesn’t matter how absurd they might be. Unorthodox strategies are often the most effective. I’ll reject nothing out of hand; every ludicrous suggestion receives proper thought.”

  Chapter 8

  Diverse of knowledge and compassionate of heart, a galen is ever eager to serve others. Wealthy or destitute, influential or poor, none are beneath the notice of these learned paragons, whose sharp minds are eternally honed for the greater good.

  Thrakis Ralkirsson, Through the Eyes of the Encrini

  227 Black Ruin, Year of the Cracked Frost

  13 Kilessin

  Chaereas beckoned Almar Graycloak into his office with a nod and folded rough hands atop a mahogany desk. “Hiring goes well, I take it.”

  “Aye. I’ve recruited five extra swords so far. Stalwart men and women all. I’d like to hire another ten if I’m able. We didn’t have the necessary muscle last year. I won’t permit a repeat of thefts and allow the cutpurses to have their day of plenty.”

  “Yes, I’ll admit the number of attendees caught us unprepared,” Chaereas conceded.

  “There’ll be more this year. I can’t have us being squeamish about spending extra coin.”

  “Indeed. Last year’s disagreement was unfortunate. In any case, the Governing Circle has approved the requested allocation of funds. Your earlier admonishments did the trick, you’ll be pleased to know.”

  “Wasn’t my intention to make your prim colleagues bristle,” Almar remarked.

  “No, I don’t imagine so. Not that the sight didn’t bring a smile to my face. I’ll consider your crassness a worthy event should it remove a headache from us later. These additional monies will allow you to augment the Starwatch Guard, and with Rhenis’ luck the festival will pass without unpleasantness.”

  “That’s my hope. I’d also like your blessing to enforce a few untraditional policies in policing the grounds.”

  “Oh? What might you have in mind?”

  “Details still need working out. I thought it best I make a point of informing you in advance.”

  “I’ll acquiesce to any new measures I don’t deem excessive, once you bring them to my attention.” Chaereas steepled his fingers and hunched atop the desk. “And regarding our quiet excursion four nights’ hence?”

  “No undue trouble during the arrangement. Should go off without a hitch.”

  “Excellent. I’m close, Almar. So tantalizingly close. It won’t be long now until all my efforts bear fruit.”

  “Maybe this’ll be the one, eh? Fingers crossed—”

  Galen Sharalla strode through the open entry and halted, billowing her woollen robe. “Forgive my interruption, Headmaster. Am I intruding?”

  “Not at all,” Chaereas remarked, settling back into his chair. “Please enter.”

  Almar offered a smile to the woman and glanced at Chaereas. “I’ll take my leave.”

  “As you wish. Keep me apprised of your progress in this and all other matters.”

  Sharalla waited for the Starwatch Guard Captain to depart and strolled closer.

  “Judging from your expression I’d be remiss to not suspect your current business is rather unpleasant.” Chaereas beckoned with one palm toward an empty chair opposite his desk. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

  Sharalla claimed the cushioned seat and tucked her dark arms into voluminous brown robes. “Your belief is not mistaken.”

  “Would you care for a refreshment before we begin? I’d rather have a sweet taste in my mouth to counter the sour words.”

  “Thank you, no. But don’t let me stop you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Chaereas stood and unstoppered a glass decanter. “What troubles you?”

  “I’ve learned two students have been caught cheating on our recent examinations.”

  Ruby liquid tumbled into his chalice. “You’re certain of this?”

  “There can be no doubt. The guilty parties were heard bragging to their fellows, and a search produced missing parchment hidden in their bedchambers.”

  “Didn’t even have the wherewithal to dispose of the evidence, it seems.”

  “We aren’t dealing with the wisest minds. If we were, the need for their duplicitous actions would not exist.”

  “True enough,” said Chaereas. “What is your recommendation?”

  “I wish to make an example of these malcontents. A public expulsion from Starwatch and our order effective immediately.”

  “We can respond in no other manner to a crime this grave. Who are the culprits?”

  Sharalla snorted an uncharacteristic chortle. “Do you care to guess?”

  “Though I wish it were otherwise, you’ll likely tell me it was Thran and Aeyir.”

  “I know what you’re liable to say, but I no longer care who their parents are. They’ve long taken advantage of our leniency, and I won’t continue kowtowing to the parents for the sake of their misbegotten spawn. The reputation of this institution takes precedence over all other considerations. Word of our forbearance in this matter will irreparably damage how outsiders look upon Starwatch.”

  He reclaimed his chair and sipped piquant wine. “You believe the severity to warrant such action?”

  “I do, Chaereas. We teach even novices to lance an infection lest it spread through the host. How can we choose differently?”

  “I can find no compelling reason to dissent. For the populace to learn we forgave such academic dishonesty would call us all into question. Tomorrow Thran and Aeyir shall be dismissed from Starwatch forthwith. I will make it clear this constitutes a lifetime expulsion without the hope of rescindment.”

  “They’ve never attached the appropriate solemnity to their training and have openly mocked professors. We are better off without them in attendance.”

  “An unforgiving belief, though not incorrect.” He folded his hands and leaned forward atop the desk. “If there is nothing else…”

  Sharalla answered with a curt nod and vacated her chair. “I’ll return to my study. Good day, Chaereas.”

  “And to you.”

  *

  Nestled atop one granite windowsill with a leather-bound tome spread over her crossed legs, Aryll leafed through crinkled papyrus. Sketches depicting various plants, stems and fungi littered the pages, each painstaking illustration labeled with a meticulous attention to detail. Sunlight streamed through patterned glass etched with mystical beasts and ancient wars, bathing the library’s second floor in warming rays. Aryll glanced at Lurhem, god of the sky and bringer of laws, hurling a lightning bolt amid zealots worshiping demons and false gods. Though little more than nonsense to modern sensibilities, Starwatch was a superstitious place many centuries ago.

&
nbsp; She turned the page and focused on one question written alongside a drawing. ‘Which seemingly innocuous ingredient, when used as an additive, cancels the beneficial qualities of Rover’s Nectar and instead results in a poisonous concoction?’

  “Reed of the Eye?” she whispered.

  Aryll ran her forefinger along cursive text until she found the solution. “Queen’s Spore? Damn it.”

  Queen’s Spore was hardly worth the effort of cultivating, serving as little more than a curative for weak stomach aches. Almost the entire supply sold in market was harvested growing in the wild, since no farmer or horticulturalist bothered devoting tilled field to the plant. How the hell did adding it to Rover’s Nectar result in a lethal blend? Aryll rubbed her forehead and glanced at a ceiling decorated in frescoes. Medicinal botany was going to be the death of her.

  “Thought I might find you here.”

  Aryll glanced up through drooping red bangs and sighted Kimiko walking between stacks laden with tomes and scrolls. The Shodii girl traced one finger along a shelf sprinkled in dust and ambled closer, her other hand scrunching parchment.

  “What riveting book do you have?”

  “A Compendium of Healing Agents for the Ailing to be Found in the Natural World,” answered Aryll.

  “Gryniver Aderia, the dullest scholar who ever lived.” Kimiko hopped onto the windowsill and dangled her legs. “The man wrote about leaves that can staunch wounds, cure infections or be brewed into poisons able to kill with merely a drop. How can he possibly make his work this boring?”

  “A sadistic desire to confound students?”

  “Not a bad theory. Are you worried about botany?”

  “Does it show?”

  “I usually catch you reading the interesting stuff we aren’t supposed to be looking at. Especially now that we have an entire new floor to explore. Perched in a nook flipping through Aderia with a scowl isn’t your style.”

  Aryll rapped a knuckle on the cover. “Do you follow any of this crap we’re supposed to be learning?”