The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

  “I thank you for your aid,” Firuz returned in a more genuine tone. “I am told that you gave much knowledge and support to Artifactor Warran as she worked. Please accept my hospitality for as long as you wish to.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Satisfied his guest was welcomed properly, Firuz encouraged them to sit down on the bench adjacent to his, where his wife poured them that wonderful flavored water and offered sliced dates and fruity naan bread. Sevana hadn’t tried this latest version—there seemed to be a thousand variations of naan—and when she bit into it, she was delighted to find it was almost like a light desert. She’d seriously have to track down the chef in this palace and get the man’s recipes. Naan was becoming her favorite food.

  Not giving Aran any chance to just sit there like a statue, she tore off a piece and popped it into his mouth. He had time to blink before suddenly finding his mouth full. Startled, he stared at her with bread sticking out of his mouth.

  “It’s good,” she encouraged, secretly laughing at how dorky he looked.

  Chewing, he considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement. Then he took a long drink before regarding it with approval as well. “The bread and drink have much flavor to them.”

  Queen Malia seemed relieved he liked them. “We can send some of the fruit back with you, if you wish to take it home?”

  “I will.” Aran took another, smaller bite of the bread. “Aranhil especially will be pleased to try these.”

  Sevana could tell from their faces that they’d lost that reference and explained, “Aranhil is the King of the Fae in Noppers Woods. They don’t refer to him by a title as his name is his title. I’ve met him twice now and he’s very curious about anything that humans do. He’ll be delighted to try food like this.”

  “I’ll make sure that several snacks and boxes of fruits go back with you,” Malia swore. One could see her make a mental note to do that next.

  “Don’t go overboard, I don’t want to have to lug that all the way into Fae territory,” Sevana warned. “Two boxes will do. Now, I assume that the two of you called me here for the full story of how I got Amas out?”

  “Please,” Firuz requested, scooting up to the edge of his seat so he sat a little closer to her.

  It took Sevana a second to remember where she had left off, but once she recalled the last time she had updated him, she started from there and worked her way through until yesterday afternoon, when all of the portraits had been destroyed. “I still have one woman trapped in a mirror, and I am not sure at this time how I’ll get her out, but everyone else is home again as you’ve seen,” she finished.

  “It was a hideous problem if it took two Artifactors and someone of the Fae nation to help undo it,” Malia observed. Her voice shook a little and her eyes were trained on her daughter playing as if she needed the reassurance after hearing everything from Sevana. “But this man that did the spells, what do we do about him?”

  “He should not be allowed to run free any longer.” Firuz’s hand was twitching as if itching for his sword right at that moment.

  “We agree.” There was not a trace of warmth to be found in Aran’s expression. “We of the Fae have been speaking much on this matter. We have found a way, with Sevana’s help, to catch this man. Once he is caught, he will be tried by Our justice.”

  Firuz opened his mouth to object, but Sevana quickly cut in before he could get a word out. “Firuz, it’s best to leave him to the Fae. For one thing, human magic can’t hold this man. He’s an expert at getting through wards and shields. For another, the Fae sense of justice is much harsher than ours. I frankly pity the fool that crosses them as they have no sense of leniency.”

  Aran snorted, looking away. “Nor should we.”

  Both monarchs seemed only half-sold on this plan. “We have a plan on how to trap this man, and it’s going to take every ounce of skill I have just to bait the trap well enough to catch him,” Sevana continued firmly. “I will not be able to hold him even an hour. Trust me. After the Fae are done with him, he’ll regret not only his own birth, but the dogs that bred him.”

  Firuz looked her dead in the eye. “You have a plan to catch this man.”

  “I do. It’ll take a week solid to prepare for it, but I do have a plan, one that will work.”

  “Swear to me that he will not escape you,” the king pressed.

  “I swear it,” she responded solemnly. “I will do absolutely everything in my power to catch him. He won’t escape a third time.”

  Satisfied and disgruntled at the same time, Firuz sat back. “I will let you try. If something goes wrong, and he does not fall for your trap, then I will go after him.”

  “That’s fair,” Aran allowed.

  Seeing that she was going to get her way, Sevana started laying the groundwork. “When people ask you how I got Amas out of the portrait, tell them that I didn’t. That the spellwork was too complicated, or I didn’t have the time to figure it out, whatever you wish to say. But emphasize that it was only possible to do this by using a special tool the Fae made for me.”

  Malia’s brows screwed together in a frown of confusion. “But this discredits your work, all that you have done.”

  “The tool is the bait,” Aran explained in his quiet, patient manner. “We wish for the magician to think that he missed this tool when he stole from our storage rooms. We want him to think that we can now counter any magic he does with this specialized tool.”

  “So he’ll come after you because he wants it for his own and because he dares not leave it in your hands,” Firuz finished with a thoughtful look at her. “You will be prepared for him soon?”

  “I actually finalized the plans last night. I think that by the time you’ve spread the rumor around, you and Kip, that I’ll have more than enough time to finish my preparations before he shows up.”

  Firuz mulled on this for several seconds before grunting. “It’s not a bad plan. I approve of it. Fine, I will spread this rumor and make sure that none of my court knows any differently. But I am not sure if this is wise, Sevana. This man is powerful, you have said that yourself. Should you be drawing him to you like this?”

  “I said he was crafty and evil,” she corrected with a lip curl. “But I don’t think he’s particularly powerful. I think he’s as powerful as any other Artifactor, he just knows more and he’s more ruthless than we are. I’ll have a sentient mountain to guard me, my master helping me, and a Fae tracker to guard my back,” she added this with a sideways glance at Aran, who nodded firmly in confirmation, “so it’s not like I plan to face this dastard alone. He might cause some damage, but with the four of us combined, there’s no possibility of him escaping.”

  The celebration of Amas’s safe return started that night and looked like it had every intention of carrying on for the rest of the week. At least. Sevana had no intention to lay around drinking, eating, and becoming as bloated as a pig headed for slaughter. The next morning, while people were still recovering from the night before, she grabbed Aran and slipped through her clock to back home.

  She found Master had beaten them there, if only just, as he was deactivating the clock that went to Belen. He regarded them with surprise as they stepped through. “Done already?”

  “You left early for the same reason, I bet,” she drawled with a pointed look. “All they’re going to do is feast for the next week.”

  He nodded affirmation and waited as she deactivated the clock to Sa Kao. “So, where do we start with the traps? Further back and then work our way to the front?”

  “That’s the most sensible approach.” Turning to Aran, she said firmly, “You should not be here while we’re doing this. It’ll be hazardous in the extreme.”

  Aran forestalled the rest of her warnings with a raised hand. “I already suspected as much. I’ll take these gifts from the queen to Aranhil and give a final report. I’ll also start preparing our end of things. I’ll be back in two days?” It was clear the question was for her, a
s he wasn’t sure how much time she needed.

  “I think we’ll be done by then.” Sevana ran through a checklist in her head and nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that will be just fine. But come in through the front door. That I’ll rig last.”

  “Understood.” Hefting the two crates crammed with fruits, breads, and jars of flavored water, he gave them an airy, “See you in two days, then,” and waltzed out of the mountain.

  Sevana eyed his retreat with irritation. Would it have hurt to leave just one piece of naan behind? It would have been perfect for breakfast. Sighing, she gave up the idea and headed for the kitchen. “Master, I think a quick meal of oats and fruit, and then to work.”

  “Are you cooking?”

  “I want to live to see tomorrow, so yes, I am.”

  Chuckling, her master trailed along behind.

  After a quick breakfast, and an even quicker cleanup, they went to work.

  The plan in itself was simple but its execution would be tricky. No wizard, sorcerer, shaman, or even Artifactor could just fire off infinite spells without eventually running out of magic and the elements needed to craft spells. Nothing was infinite, magic especially. A well-crafted tool or spell could sustain itself by the resources around it, but portable spells just couldn’t do that. Sevana knew that the man they were targeting would have only portable spells on him and in limited quantity. There was only so much a human being could carry after all. Even his wands couldn’t last forever as they needed spell elements and his magic to draw upon to work.

  So their plan was simple: exhaust him. Drain him of all the magic, make him use all of the pre-made spells he had on hand, force him to use anything and everything on him. Then, when he was at his weakest, only then move in.

  Big had been rerouting the tunnels while they were in Sa Kao and Belen, as it wasn’t safe to be in him when he was doing a major re-arrange like that, and now it was a veritable labyrinth inside. It took his silent cues of slopping the floors down to make sure they were heading in the right direction and not just wandering around in circles. The redesign was essential. It was not only to confuse their prey but also so that he would slowly be forced towards the back side of the mountain and out into Fae territory. Aran would ensure that a veritably army of Fae were waiting for this man. They would finish the job and cart him off.

  They couldn’t just willy-nilly set traps. To begin with, they hadn’t devised them all yet. Sevana went through every tunnel with Master, marking out possible locations, and between them they worked out what spells would be the most effective in each place. Just the planning took two days and it was mentally and physically exhausting, tramping through Big back and forth, up and down, and then doing it all over again.

  They had to take breaks and eat of course. Their own magical energy couldn’t sustain this constant drain either without some sort of replenishing going on. Master made sure they both slept a solid eight hours each night as well. But after the planning was done, they started making the traps, which taxed them all over again. After spending twelve hours hunched over a table, crafting trap after spell after curse, it sent her eyes to crossing and put knots upon knots in her shoulders.

  With the last one done, she and Master collapsed in front of her fireplace, limbs sprawling every direction, head hanging over the back of their chairs. “Why did I say we’d do this in two days?” she groaned.

  “I was wondering that when you said it. I didn’t think we were on that tight of a deadline.”

  “We don’t know when he’s actually going to come,” she pointed out. Or if he’d take the bait.

  “Certainly, that’s true, but there’s no way the man can hear the rumor and react in the first week. We’re not even sure if two weeks will be enough time.”

  That was also true. Well, it was a moot point to debate now. “Before we set the lethal traps, I want to run a test. Have Kip and Aran go through the tunnels and see what traps they bungle into.”

  Master gave a weary nod, flicking a hand. “I assumed as much when I saw you making those traps with the paint inside. That’s fine. It’s not a bad idea, actually. There are some spots I’m not sure about.”

  Neither was she, which was why she wanted to run the test.

  From the front door, there was a called complaint. “Sev! Tell Big to let me in!”

  Morgan? Now what was he doing back here? She pushed her way to her feet and staggered toward the front door. Only after she had double checked that none of the traps near the front door were active did she say, “Big, it’s fine, he can come in.”

  With a glare up at the mountain, Morgan came in, a bag over his shoulder. “Surely you don’t have this place booby-trapped already.”

  “We do, actually.” At his incredulous look, she defended, “We don’t know when that dastard is actually going to arrive. Better safe than sorry. Now, what are you doing here?”

  “Partially to tell you everything I’ve been doing, partially to hand in several job offers that I received in Sa Kao, and partially to borrow your soap whirly-wig.”

  At this last, she gave him a flat stare. “Kip. Do your own laundry.”

  “Now why should I do that when the whirly-wig will do it for me?” He gave her a particularly brilliant, charming smile. “Besides, while my laundry is being spun about, you can tell me in detail what trade rights you now have with the Fae.”

  True, she had only mentioned to him in passing that her status with the Fae had changed, and a little of what that meant, so it would be better to give him a more in-depth explanation. They needed to move on that before the offer cooled and people thought she wasn’t that interested. “Well, alright, you do have a lot of things to tell me and I, you. But be warned, this place is not at all safe for you. There’s only a few rooms that are safe to go in and out of.”

  Ticking them off on one hand, Morgan rattled off, “Main room, your workroom, kitchen, bathroom, the guest bedrooms.”

  That much was obvious, huh. “Sling your bag into your usual room, then. I’m going to collapse in the main room until dinner.”

  Stepping outside for a moment, he brought a large wicker basket inside and hefted it. “I brought dinner.”

  Sevana eyed it, licking her lips. “Is that shepherd’s pie and fresh bread I smell?”

  “I have fried apple pies in there too.”

  Praise heavens she didn’t have to cook after all. Taking the basket with both hands, she said haughtily, “Your fee for a night’s stay is accepted.”

  “I thank you for your hospitality,” Morgan responded, playing along. “I’ll throw my clothes into the wash and be right with you.”

  “Be right with me in the kitchen, I’m not letting this cool.” Sticking her head into the main room, she told a half-asleep master, “Kip brought shepherd’s pie, fried apple pies, and fresh bread.”

  The man’s eyes sprang open and he was half out of his chair before he said, “Is it dinner time?”

  “It is now.” Grinning, she retreated back into the kitchen. Setting the basket on the table, she carefully lifted hot pans and bread out, then put the basket out of the way on the floor. Master lost no time in helping her set out plates and utensils. She grabbed one of her special plate warmers and loaded a plate before setting it on top and covering it with a dome fly net. Setting that aside, she went about filling a plate for herself.

  Morgan came in and noticed this with a brief quirk of the brow. “We expecting someone?”

  “Aran.” Sevana glanced up long enough to hand him a plate before settling at the head of the table with her own. “He passed along a message through Baby that he would probably be back here by dinner.”

  There was an odd look on Morgan’s face as he said, “That so. And, ah, why is he hanging about here? When we don’t expect any evil magicians to pop up for at least another week or two?”

  “It’s an interesting question, isn’t it,” Master agreed with a suspicious twinkle in his eye.

  Sevana glanced between the two of them
, puzzled and frustrated by her puzzlement. They were obviously on the same page about something, as the undercurrents were clear, but she didn’t follow what they were talking about. “Why shouldn’t Aran be back tonight? He wants to stay here just in case we’re wrong in our assumptions.”

  Popping a bite in his mouth, Morgan thought on that and chewed before swallowing. “Is that what he said?”

  She opened her mouth to say of course it was, but on second thought, she’d assumed why. All Aran had said to her was that he would be back tonight at some point and he’d be staying until this whole situation resolved itself. For some reason, her hesitation in answering made both men smirk at her. But she knew good and well that if she demanded an answer, they’d smugly say it was nothing and wouldn’t give her a straight response. She’d have to weasel it out of them later. Glaring at the pair of them, she switched the topic.

  “So, Kip, trade rights.”

  He perked up, happily going to this more profitable conversation. “Trade rights. What do we have?”

  “As far as I can tell, and I did ask, we almost have carte blanche. As long as it’s not a specialized tool, or something that is a Fae specialty, we can trade for it. So their simple trade goods, elements, and so forth are open game. They requested—it was more like a demand, really—that we send children to not just Noppers. I’m going to have to find some way to divvy this up evenly or it’s going to be a real headache later.”

  Morgan grimaced agreement. “It certainly will.”

  “Perhaps do it by location,” Master suggested. “Whoever is closest is the one that you take the child to.”

  That sounded like a neat, simple resolution to the problem. “As long as that keeps the numbers more or less even, I think I’ll do just that. Anyway, Kip, keep your eye out for potential Fae children.”

  “Let me see if I remember the checklist you gave me. Under ten, no family or relations, not magically touched. Is that it?”

  “That’s it,” she agreed. Morgan had an excellent mind for details and a good memory. That was why he was so competent in business.