by Layton Green
“Might?”
“Have you a better option?”
He grasped the gray coils of his prison. “Tell me more.”
“When I return.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find my weapons.”
She left him peering at her through the bars. She was too nervous to relish his discomfort. Her plan was insane, and she didn’t even know if it was viable.
But it was time to find out.
A starless night oppressed the valley. Mala padded inside the storehouse, this time taking her magically enhanced short sword, her boot knife, and the curved dagger she kept sheathed on her corded leather belt, alongside the pouches. She tied on the weighted blue sash, slipped on her rings and bracelets and choker of intertwined bronze, then ran her fingers over her nose stud and her earrings, feeling whole again. Finally, she touched the bare space between her breasts where the circular amulet hanging from a silver chain used to fit.
The Amulet of the Planes.
Eyes flashing with anticipation, short sword and curved dagger in hand, she entered the woods in a predatory crouch.
The nighttime sounds in the valley were magnified a thousand fold inside the forest. Insects screamed their nocturnal concerto, the throaty shrieks and cries of larger predators tracked her progress. What strange creatures roamed these woods, she wondered?
Mala’s eyes strained to follow the path as she walked, her blades at the ready. Progress was slow, but when she finally reached the clearing with the hags’ favorite tree, she stopped to regard the gargantuan sentinel.
You’re the presence I sense throughout the woods, aren’t you? The deity of this wretched place. You control the forest, accept the sacrifices, produce the worms that give the hags their power. Worms fed by the soil beneath your roots, rich with the blood of magical creatures.
Mala strode to the base of the tree, sheathed her short sword, and began to dig with her dagger. Fearful of other predators, she worked as fast as she could, but it took long hours before she finally collected a handful of the wriggling gray worms.
There was only one thing left to do. As she pinched one of the worms between thumb and forefinger, cringing as she prepared to swallow, she wondered if she would be returning to the valley to fight the hags at dawn, or instead leaving her world behind and running for her life, deeper into the alien forest.
-34-
Before Val could protest, Adaira took flight towards the Goblin Market, followed by Gowan and Dida. When they realized Val wasn’t with them, the others hovered in place and looked back.
“Is something wrong?” Adaira called out.
“I haven’t learned how to fly,” Val said evenly.
Gowan snickered and crossed his arms in midair.
“I’ll have my driver take me,” Val said. “He’s waiting outside the coterie.”
“I believe I can carry you,” Dida said. “The market is near, no?”
“We can do better than that,” Adaira said, swooping in to hover just above Val. “If you can move the exam stone, you can fly. I’ve seen you perform Wind Push in class. Taking flight is the same principle. Push against the ground, and the force of the air pressure will lift you up.”
While the depths of his powers still drifted out of reach, Val could now cast lesser spells on command. He took a deep breath and tried what she said, focusing his will on pushing against the ground instead of forcing air away in a concentrated space, like a typical Wind Push spell.
To his surprise, he thrust ten feet straight into the air, much faster than he expected. It was so simple he chided himself for not thinking of it before. After wobbling in midair, he dropped and crashed onto the table.
He limped to his feet and scowled as he saw Adaira trying not to join the others in laughter. “You forgot to tell me what to do when I get up there,” he said.
“Instead of using the ground, continue pushing against the air beneath you, or beside you, depending on which direction you wish to go. It takes much less effort.”
“How do I land without killing myself?”
“Surely one as sharp as you might formulate the principle?”
He could tell she hadn’t quite forgiven him for denying her request at the pleasure garden. He thought about it and said, “I can slow my descent by pushing against the ground or the air beneath me. Reversing the spell.”
Her lips pursed. “Very good.”
“Um, you might want to watch over me the first time.”
She smirked and rose higher. “You’ll do fine.”
Val gathered his will and his courage, then pushed against the ground with his mind, shooting himself skyward. Dida clapped as Val rose past them. “Bravo, my friend!”
Val kept soaring until he was a hundred feet into the air. As he started to fall, he did as Adaira said, creating a localized Wind Push with the air beneath his feet. It wasn’t as easy as thrusting off the ground, but after a number of attempts, he managed to control his descent. Once he got the hang of it, he put his arms in front of him like Superman and flew higher, amazed.
Because it was not Val’s way, he resisted the urge to whoop out loud, but he was buzzing with his newfound power. I could get used to this.
When the others caught up to him, they flew as a group towards the river. The view of the city below was mesmerizing.
“Remember,” Dida said, “you’re vulnerable while flying. No other spells can be cast, unless one releases the spell and drops into free fall.”
“That’s why it’s not taught to First Years,” Adaira added, “though we all know it. It’s also very draining, especially at the learning stage.”
Val nodded, already feeling the effects. Gowan, he noted, had nothing to add, and did not look pleased that Val had picked up the skill so quickly.
When Val turned towards Adaira, he performed two accidental somersaults before righting himself. She giggled.
“What about your majitsu?” he asked her.
“They’re waiting outside the front entrance. As far as they know, I’m studying in the coterie house all night.”
He cast a nervous glance behind him, and then they were skirting the edge of the Wizard District, taking care not to fly too close to any wizards in flight who might notice Adaira. The city an open dollhouse below, Val reveled in the wind rushing through his hair, the overwhelming sense of power and freedom.
From above, the Goblin Market resembled an ant colony, a seething line of chaos on the river side of the French Quarter that extended a mile to the east, and all the way to the Canal Bridge to the West. Val descended in fits and starts, unable to make a smooth transition. Finally he realized it was akin to the motion of letting out a car clutch on a steep hill, allowing himself to fall while pushing against the air beneath him. It became easier as they neared the ground, the solid surface providing a better counterweight.
Though he stumbled upon landing, he kept his feet, earning praise from Dida and Adaira.
Not a perfect ten, Val thought to himself, but not bad. Not bad at all.
A six-foot wall cordoned off the market from the rest of the city. As soon as they passed through the creaking wooden gate that marked the entrance, eying the Goblin Market sign painted in red letters, Val felt as if he had stepped into another world. Another world in the other world, that was.
The canvas roofs of the grimy tents and stalls created a canopy over the maze of narrow lanes. Buyers and shouting vendors filled every inch of the bazaar, pointing and snarling, babbling and bartering. An onslaught of smells wafted to Val’s nose: exotic perfumes and incense, coffee and grog, animal dung and roasting meats and unwashed flesh.
Gowan’s hands were clenched at his sides. Dida looked astonished but not uncomfortable, taking it all in with curious eyes. Adaira put up a good front, but her mouth was tight, and Val knew that if she had ever been here before, it had been in the sheltering company of her majitsu.
He recalled what Gus had once said to Val and his brothers. B
ehold the Goblin Market, laddies. They say anythin’ your black hearts desire can be found within.
Anythin’.
Jostled and harangued by vendors, Adaira clenched her jaw as they pressed through the crowd, seeming to know where she was going. Val kept a constant watch for danger, as well as one hand clenched around the gold coins in his pocket.
His mouth dropped as he realized the Goblin Market was not a misnomer. Short, wart-covered, tusk-faced bipeds manned some of the stalls, along with lizard men, a few albino dwarves, humans of every shape and color, and even a troll that loomed above the crowd, hawking spiked clubs and animal skins from his cowhide stall.
They passed traders selling every imaginable product: foodstuffs, oils, carpets, clothes, weapons, armor, and household goods mixed in with the more bizarre items: dragons’ teeth, basilisk scales, water nymph tears, homemade elixirs, magical items of dubious origin.
After wading for half an hour through the labyrinth of stalls, Adaira stopped in front of a canvas yurt with no wares displayed, no vendor waving his arms out front, no buyers crowding the entrance flap. The incongruous calm of the yurt felt sinister, as if the chaos dared not encroach.
Adaira lifted the flap and slipped inside. Val and the others followed. Deceptively large, the yurt reeked of perfumed oils. A rack of weapons stood to their left, a cabinet full of stoppered bottles and curios to their right. Silky blue curtains separated two sections in the rear corners.
A glow orb hung from the apex of the yurt, emitting a feeble light, and it took Val a few moments to notice the lean man dressed in a black robe sitting in the shadows at the back of the enclosure, legs crossed lotus style, arms resting on his knees.
Not a man, Val realized, noticing the flat nose and manicured pincers that served as fingers, the leathery scales patterned like the back of a copperhead, and the slender tail coiled behind him.
Something else.
“Yesss?”
Gowan let the flap close, sealing off the street noise. Val felt uneasy in the presence of the strange humanoid.
“I’m Adaira Inverlock.”
“Ah yesss. Alissstair’sss child. You have been here onssse before.”
“Yes.” She flashed a handful of gold. “Might I have an audience?”
He put a palm out and lowered it. “Sssit with me.”
With Adaira in the lead, Val and the others moved closer to recline on an exquisite crimson carpet. Up close, Val noticed the yurt owner’s tongue was forked, and that a burn scar obscured the entire left side of his face. Unlike other lizard men Val had seen in the street, with their ridged brows and extended jaws and heavy builds, the features of this reptilian being were sinuous and sleek.
A snake man.
He took a teacup off the table beside him, the silk sleeve slipping to reveal a scaled forearm. He offered another cup to Adaira. She accepted, surprising Val.
“What isss your desssire?”
“I have need of two things,” Adaira said. “Information, and an item. A Shadow Veil. Can you assist?”
He gave a supple roll of his neck, then called out in a language consisting of a string of hisses with differing pitches. The curtain to Val’s left parted, revealing a cushioned interior. A female version of the snake man stepped into the main section of the yurt, exchanged hisses with him, pulled a cloak over her head, and slunk through the front flap.
“Ssshe will procure the easssier of the two requestsss,” he said, then nodded on an upward diagonal. “The information you wisssh?”
“Three acolytes have been murdered recently,” Adaira said. “Are you aware of this?”
“Of courssse.”
“Do you know who the murderer is?”
The snake man made a sound akin to a rasping chuckle.
“Has there been any talk in the underworld?” Adaira pressed. “Rumors about the identity?”
The snake man waved a hand in front of his lap. The movement reminded Val of the weaving of a cobra. Adaira got the hint and placed a handful of gold coins in front of him.
Again the rasping chuckle. Adaira grimaced and put two more handfuls beside the first.
“And for the ssshadow veil?” he asked.
“When it arrives,” Adaira said evenly.
The forked tongue flickered. “You are brave to venture out without the usssual protection.”
“We can protect ourselves just fine.”
The snake man flicked his shrewd yellow eyes around the group. Val felt a chill when they rested on him. “Yesss,” he said again, though Val detected subtle notes of both sarcasm and menace.
“It’s kind of you to be so concerned with our welfare,” Adaira said, with her own dash of sarcasm, “but what are these rumors for which I have so dearly paid?”
“It isss rumored that one of the Alazassshin hasss arrived in New Victoria.”
Adaira swallowed before speaking. “I see. And this is the murderer? A professional assassin?”
He spread his palms. “You know that the Alazassshin operate under the ssstrictessst code of sssilence.”
“Then how did the rumor start?”
“When the murderer is unssseen, and ssskillful, the comparissson is inevitable, no?”
“No,” Adaira said. “Use of the Alazashin requires enormous funds, and usually involves a high-profile target. Why students?”
“Ssstudentsss, but ssstill a blow to the Congregation. To the reputation of invincibility.”
“Who sent the assassin?”
“I do not know.”
“I paid for more than comparisons which I myself could have drawn,” Adaira said. “Surely there is more?”
Another flick of the tongue. “The murderer isss not known to the underworld of New Victoria. The Alazassshin iss the logical choisse.”
“Because you would know if it was someone from here?”
He gave a slight bow in response. “There isss one other thing. A sssighting.”
“Someone saw him?” Adaira asked, leaning forward. “Why didn’t they come forth—ah, another criminal. Of course.”
Another bow. “A thief it wasss. Waiting on the Canal Bridge for victimsss to passss. He ssspeaksss of a winged man who ssslew the wizard boy.”
“A winged man? What does that mean?”
“Wingsss black and sssilent like the night. Coming and going on the breeze. Leaving behind a victim.”
“Where can I find this thief?” she said. “Can you arrange a visit?”
“I am afraid I cannot raissse the dead.”
It took Adaira a moment, and then she leaned back. “Someone—probably the Alazashin—killed him for spreading the rumor.”
The flap rustled. Val turned to see the snake woman gliding into the tent. She set a black-wrapped bundle the size of a baseball in front of her employer, then retreated behind her curtain.
“A time-releassse Shadow Veil. The mossst potent you will find outssside the magic shopsss which, judging by the nature of the visssit, I asssume you wish to avoid.”
Adaira placed another handful of gold coins in front of the snake man. “Is this enough?”
Never ask that, Val thought. First principle of bartering.
The snake man’s lips, thin as toothpicks, lifted at the corners. “Almossst.”
She added more to the pile. He used a black-lacquered pincer to push the package across the carpet to her. “It wasss a pleasssure doing busssinesss with you. And, ah, if you will, I would prefer if thisss visssit remainsss our sssecret. It would be unfortunate if your father were to learn of it. It might affect the businesss relationship you and I have fossstered.”
“You have our word,” Adaira said.
“Yesss.”
On their return through the Goblin Market, thinking the snake man might be of value in the future, Val asked, “Who was that?”
“Sinias Slegin. A serpentus, obviously, and one of the most knowledgeable figures in the New Victorian underworld.”
Dida shuddered. “An unnerving c
hap, isn’t he?”
“Consorting with a serpentus,” Gowan muttered. “A vile race.”
“A necessary evil,” Adaira said, hefting the round package.
“What does the involvement of the Alazashin mean for us?” Val asked. “How powerful are they?”
Gowan gave him an incredulous look. Val had weighed staying silent, but decided information was more valuable than discretion.
“Not so powerful that the four of us should not be able to overcome a single assassin,” Adaira said. “Especially with the element of surprise offered by a Veil of Shadows.”
Gowan muttered something under his breath, and Dida stroked his chin. “But what if the assassin attacks before we’re able to assist?”
Adaira tossed her braid. “I’m not without defenses of my own. My Wizard Shield will be ready.” She reached into a pocket and produced two pairs of silver handcuffs. “I’ve also brought these.”
“Wizard cuffs,” Gowan murmured. “Excellent.”
Val wondered how the wizard cuffs worked, but decided he had admitted enough ignorance for one conversation.
“I wonder what was meant by a winged man?” Dida wondered.
“Perhaps he has a magical item that provides flight and an undetected arrival,” Adaira said. “We already know he possesses an item that resists scrying.”
“Could he be non-human?” Val asked.
“The Alazashin accept members from all races.”
Gowan’s voice was grim. “Perhaps he’s a wizard after all. And too powerful for us to overcome.”
“A wizard assassinating a student?” Adaira scoffed. “No wizard from the Realm, not even a gypsy, would stoop to such a level. And for the rare few countries where a wizard assassin might exist, such as a Dragon Mage, this would be seen as an act of war by the Congregation. Far too risky. And again, a wizard would not use a knife.”
“And again,” Val said, wondering what a Dragon Mage was, “he wouldn’t unless he was trying to conceal the fact that he was a wizard. As you said, it would be considered an act of war. Do the Alazashin employ wizards?”