The City of Ravens

by Baker, Richard

  Randall Morran made a great show of consulting a small parchment sealed in a ribbon-wrapped envelope, standing clear of any observers. He allowed the wait to become deliciously long, and then shook his head. “Alas, Lady Carp, your solution is incorrect in four particulars. A noble effort, but not enough to win.”

  The Green Lord strode up beside the Master Crafter and stood before Lady Carp, silent and tall. He pointed at Carp and Lion solemnly, and then drew his finger across his throat ceremonially.

  Morran bowed and said, “For your failure, the Green Lord condemns you to death. You may unmask and remain to enjoy the festivities if you wish, or you may depart and retain your anonymity.”

  Lady Carp sighed. “Oh, it’s a silly game anyway.” She drew off her mask. Jack didn’t recognize her, or her escort, an older gentleman with a white goatee. “Better luck to the next!” she called to the crowd, and then she and her date departed to the polite applause of the crowd.

  “Did you record her solution?” Jack asked Illyth.

  “Yes, but we don’t know which part was wrong. Which four parts, in fact.”

  “True, but look here—her solution for the Orange Lord matches our own, which we have confirmed completely with real clues. Therefore, the four errors in her solution must lie elsewhere.” Jack grinned. “I think that we can use her solution in its entirety as the basis for our own, simply asking ourselves for each item: was Lady Carp right or wrong? Then we examine our own evidence item by item to see if we can confirm or refute her solution. We will be left with a small number of yes-or-no guesses with which we can attempt the solution.”

  “Clearly, Lady Carp guessed on at least four points, probably more, and got them wrong,” Illyth said.

  “Yes, but I promise you that someone else will attempt that very strategy later in this session,” Jack said. “I doubt that we have the luxury of solving the puzzle in its entirety. Someone will narrow the solution down to a few guesses and hope they get lucky in the interest of solving it first.”

  Illyth frowned. “I prefer a more deliberate solution.”

  “Faint heart never won fair lady or the Game of Masks,” Jack said. He studied the crowd below one more time and straightened. “Or caught a conspirator. Look, there’s Tiger now.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Stay with me, and follow my lead,” he told her.

  Jack glided across the room and down the wide stairway, moving casually to intersect Lord Tiger. Illyth hesitated, mustering the courage to follow, then hurried after him. Jack caught the tall lord just as the fellow reached the foot of the stair and deliberately stepped in front of him, halting his progress.

  “Hold a moment, my lord. I would like to have a word with you.”

  Tiger studied him, his feral eyes gleaming in his predatory mask. “To what end?” he snarled.

  “You know as well as I,” Jack ventured. The lord hesitated, perhaps trying to gauge the depth of Jack’s confidence. The rogue decided to set the hook. “It pertains to your conversation with Lady Mantis.”

  Now the conspirator guarded his response. “What do you think you heard?”

  Jack glanced at the surrounding revelers. “Shall we discuss it here, or should we adjourn to one of the private chambers upstairs?”

  Behind the mask, Lord Tiger seemed to glower. “Very well, then,” he spat.

  Without waiting, he pushed past Jack and hurried up the staircase, past the dining hall on the second floor to the quiet, dark reaches of the uppermost floor. Here, Veldarno Khalabari had created a dozen small rooms for private dining and other entertainments secluded from the revelry below. Few Game participants were on this floor at the moment, although as the evening grew old a number would doubtless avail themselves of the facilities rather than endure a long, cold carriage ride home. Tiger went to the first open room and stepped inside, turning warily to keep an eye on Jack and Illyth.

  “Speak your piece and be quick about it,” the lord snapped.

  “Your hostility is unbecoming, sir,” said Jack. He advanced into the room, Illyth a step behind him. Lord Tiger folded his arms across his broad chest and glared at him. “In particular, I found my shadow-double to be a particularly obnoxious assailant. I believe you owe the lady an apology for the liberties it attempted to take with her person.”

  Tiger looked from Jack to Illyth, his anger fading into a sullen glower. “What in Cyric’s screaming hells are you talking about?”

  Jack waved his hand. “You lie poorly, sir. We survived your assassin’s attack. Now explain to us why you sent him, or we shall have no choice but to remand the entire matter into the hands of the proper authorities.” Behind his back, he tapped Illyth’s waist; the noblewoman picked up on her cue at once and moved a step, separating herself from Jack and dividing Tiger’s attention.

  “I do not have to answer to your delusions,” Tiger snapped. “You threaten to expose me? Fine. I call your bluff. You are nothing to me, but if you continue to pester me, you will be eliminated from the Game and more. Do you understand me?”

  Illyth took another step and then said something that shocked even Jack. “Lord Tiger, you should answer to my companion. Otherwise I shall have to arrange for the Watch to receive evidence implicating you in a conspiracy to commit murder under the cover of the Game. You remain free only on my sufferance.”

  Tiger wheeled on her. “Evidence? What evidence?”

  “If we told you, you might be tempted to rash actions and desperate measures,” Jack replied, stepping in to cover Illyth. “Rest assured that it is completely incriminating.”

  “If that is the case, why are you speaking to me?” Tiger said after a moment’s pause. “A bluff, then. You know nothing, just as I thought.” He drew himself up and strode to the door, shouldering Jack out of the way and turning his back on Illyth.

  In that moment, Illyth reached out and snatched his mask from his head. The Tiger illusion vanished; the man whirled in rage, reaching for the sword at his side. He was young and dark complected, with a scalp shaved down almost to stubble and fierce bright eyes.

  “Damn you! Give me that!”

  Jack seized the light slip of cloth from Illyth’s hands and hurled it over Tiger’s shoulder. It cleared the railing and fluttered down to the dance floor below. “Careful, Lord Tiger! You seem to have lost your mask.”

  The man started after the mask and watched it fall. He turned a venomous glare at Jack. “If you think that trick will spare you—” he began.

  “Of course it will!” Reaching for Illyth’s hand, Jack worked the transport spell and blinked them both across the hall to a dark stairwell across the ballroom. He turned and looked back; Lord Tiger was casting about for them furiously, a glint of steel in his hand. Jack grinned and kissed Illyth on the cheek. “Well done, dear Illyth! Perchance did you recognize him?”

  The noblewoman still seemed amazed by the turn of events. “I think so,” she said slowly. “A merchant’s lieutenant named Toseiyn Dulkrauth, of the Storm Dragon House, I think. You realize that we have made an enemy of him now?”

  “Yes,” laughed Jack, “but now we know who our enemies are!” He tried to ignore the way Illyth’s silence seemed to speak louder than his own bravado.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Of course, unmasking Toseiyn Dulkrauth didn’t really prove anything about the shadow Jack. Even if he was satisfied that Mantis and Tiger were not responsible for the appearance of the shadow, Jack had only eliminated one possibility. Jack gave up and returned his attention to Illyth, the Game, and the discomfited Toseiyn Dulkrauth, watching warily to make sure that Lord Tiger did not find an opportunity to slip up behind him and put a dagger in his back when no one was looking.

  As the Green Lord’s banquet came to a close, Jack returned Illyth to her manor and warned the servants there to be on guard for someone answering to his own exact description. “And you be careful as well,” he told Illyth. “I am not the sort of person checked by a single failure, and it may be th
at my evil twin is similarly persistent. He may try to carry you off again.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Illyth. “The house guards are aware of the imposter now. They won’t let someone who looks like you get anywhere near me.” She laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if my father had ordered the guards to shoot you on sight or something like that. I’d better check into it.”

  “Please do,” Jack agreed. He climbed back into his coach and signaled the driver. The man flicked the reins with a small sound of encouragement, and the coach rattled away from the manor house. Jack settled in for the long ride, thinking furiously about Dulkrauth’s hidden agenda and secret goals. “Some Game,” he remarked, considering the situation. “Murder, conspiracy, kidnappings, and all the brightest of Raven’s Bluff socialites and sycophants to weigh as suspects.”

  “Did you say something, sir?” the coachman called from above.

  “Do you know where the Cracked Tankard lies?”

  “I do, sir, although I advise against it. A person of your station would find the place squalid and coarse, filled with lowborn ruffians plotting robbery, murder, and worse.”

  “The very place!” Jack smiled, even though the driver could not see him. “Take me there at once!”

  The hour was now growing late, and the Tankard was filled with local merchants, laborers, and clerks who preferred to take advantage of the tavern’s comforts over those of their own homes. Several huge roasts sizzled invitingly over the fire, and Jack comfortably settled himself in his usual place. Briesa had the night off, but Jack flirted with another of the barmaids and won himself an unusually large helping of beef. He had barely started on his dinner when a large boot came down in the middle of his chest and rocked him back on his chair, pinning him against the wall.

  “Hello, Jack,” said Zandria. She held a dangerous-looking wand in his face. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Now I remember, Jack said to himself. The Cracked Tankard is the place I come to when I want people to find me, interrupt my dinner, and threaten me with violence. “I need to find a new tavern to frequent,” he muttered. He looked up at Zandria. The mage looked moderately charred, with black holes eaten in her leather jacket and an extremely close haircut, as if she’d angrily hacked off hair too singed to save. “Dear Zandria, is this uncomfortable approach absolutely necessary?”

  “Where are the ring and the dagger, Jack?” the mage replied. “I found the Tomb’s riches; I fought a deep dragon to keep them; I lost comrades and friends in doing so. I have no patience whatsoever for your petty larceny. You stole prizes that I worked very hard to acquire, and I want them back.”

  “You chased off the dragon? Excellent! When and where shall we meet to count out my two-elevenths share of the loot?”

  “Your impudence was tiresome the first time you crossed my path, you sniveling little worm,” Zandria snapped. “How dare you bring up such a matter, when you abandoned the field and left my company to stand alone against that monster?”

  Jack shoved Zandria’s boot from his chest and stood up as quickly as the blink of an eye, jamming one finger at her. “How dare you bring up the circumstances under which I departed the fight, when you went out of your way to make sure I would not show up in the first place! We had a deal, Zandria, and you broke it before I did!”

  “You insinuated yourself into my company! I didn’t ask you to eavesdrop on my conversation with Ontrodes, I didn’t ask you to illicitly copy my notes, and I most specifically did not ask for your help!”

  “But you accepted my aid when I had something useful for you, by which I refer to the solution to the Guilder’s riddle. You would not have found the tomb at all if it hadn’t been for my interference, and you sought to reward me by cutting me out of my agreed-on share. So who’s the thief here, dear Zandria?”

  The mage’s eyes burned dangerously. “Choose your words carefully, Jack Ravenwild. You are an instant away from annihilation.”

  Jack deliberately turned away from her to straighten his chair and took his seat again. He drank one sip from his mug and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Very well. Sit down, dear Zandria, and we’ll examine the situation rationally. Both parties have claims and both have damages, so let us try to find a compromise that suits the situation.”

  “I have no interest in negotiating with you. Give me what is mine, and count yourself lucky that you walk away in the shape you were born to.”

  “I have always responded poorly to threats. In this case, I will make an exception. We have the Guilder’s hoard; I want my two-elevenths. And, aside from the hoard, we have the Orb of Khundrukar—presumably in your possession—which I also was promised a two-elevenths stake in.”

  “I made no such promise!”

  “Examine our contract, Zandria. The wording runs something to the effect of ‘all items and treasures discovered in the Guilder’s Tomb and any other regions jointly explored.’ The Orb is certainly included in that.” Jack fished around in his coat pocket and found a small pipe. He rarely indulged in pipeweed, but this seemed like an appropriate occasion. He tamped leaf into the pipe and lit it with a minor magic. “I would be willing to forfeit my two shares if you will forfeit your claim to the Orb.”

  “Impossible,” Zandria said. “The Orb is not subject to discussion.”

  “If we remanded this matter to the local courts, I am certain they would uphold my claims on two-elevenths of the treasure, and they would assign me two-elevenths ownership of the Orb.” Jack puffed on the pipe a moment. “However, I have no particular wish to engage in an ugly legal battle with such a dear comrade as you. I would prefer a more informal and mutually satisfactory arrangement.”

  The mage glared at him for a long moment, thinking hard. Then she shoved her wand back into a holster at her hip and drew up the chair opposite Jack’s. “I’ll see to it you receive your two shares of the hoard. You give me the magical items you stole. You are bound by that contract, too, and I have a nine-elevenths ownership of the ring and the dagger. Does that meet your requirements?”

  Magical items? Clearly, Zandria believed that the ring and the dagger were enchanted, which meant that they were more than mere baubles to be pawned at the first opportunity. In fact, magic rings had a reputation for potentially concealing extraordinary powers. Jack had thought that the gems and coins he’d stuffed into his pockets were the prize for his efforts in Sarbreen, a few hundred crowns of loot quickly converted into cash. But if he had a magic ring and an enchanted dagger in his possession, he might have scored far better than he’d thought.

  Of course, there was no point in acknowledging this to Zandria. Jack carefully controlled his reaction and frowned studiously. “I accept two shares for the two items for the sake of argument, as long as we add the value of the ring and dagger to the hoard before calculating my cut, but the Lady Mayor’s advertised reward for your Orb is ten thousand gold crowns and a noble title. What value shall we place on that?”

  “We cannot split a noble title,” Zandria said slowly, as if explaining weighty matters to a child.

  Jack smoked and nodded thoughtfully. “I propose this: we place eleven marbles into a bag, two black, nine white. We shake up the bag and hand it to an impartial stranger, asking him to draw one marble from the bag without looking. If he draws a black marble, I win the entire reward due the finder of the Orb. If he draws a white marble, you win.”

  “I will not settle this question by gambling! Who knows how you might fix such a game?”

  “We seem to be stuck,” Jack remarked. “Clearly, you want the title. I will settle for cash. I’ll give you ring and dagger for two-elevenths of the hoard (including the value of ring and dagger!) You give me the ten thousand crowns for the Orb’s reward and keep the title.”

  The mage winced, but nodded. “Done. Now give me the ring.”

  “Not so fast,” said Jack.

  It was a shame to give up a chance at the noble title, but frankly, he preferred cash in hand, and
he had too much on his mind to do a proper job of holding the Red Wizard over the barrel. Beside, he had no idea what Zandria might do if he made it too hard for her to deal honestly with him. He looked at Zandria and studied her for a moment, making a great show of thinking things through carefully and slowly.

  “While I have no real idea of the value of those two items, your intense interest in them would seem to indicate that they are quite valuable indeed. Therefore, I will hold the ring and the dagger as security against my cut of the treasure and ten thousand gold crowns. I will redeem them when you make good on my agreed-upon share of the loot.”

  “Security?” asked Zandria incredulously. “Your impudence is beyond compare! I should incinerate you where you sit, and take both ring and dagger from your smoldering corpse!”

  “You might do that, of course, but you would be disappointed. You see, dear Zandria, I do not have either ring or dagger on my person at the moment.” That, of course, was a bald-faced lie; the ring nestled in Jack’s vest pocket, while the dagger was tucked into his left boot. “Why don’t we plan on meeting here again in, say, two days? That will give you time to turn in the Orb and collect the reward. Do you agree?”

  The mage rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Fine. I agree.”

  “Excellent! Then let us share a drink to commemorate the agreement.”

  Jack signaled the waitress, but Zandria waved her hand in disgust. “I have no interest in toasting your health, Jack Ravenwild. I will assemble the money you require. Be warned: if you fail to produce the ring and the dagger, I will not entertain any further negotiations. I shall simply kill you on the spot regardless of repercussions or arrangements. I admit that may cause me some small trouble, which is why I did not end your life tonight, but you will be a smoking corpse, Jack, dead as every slaying-spell at my command can make you. Do not try my patience again.”