Cestra nodded. “One of us has to, and it can’t be you if you’re doing the sneaky bit. I didn’t come to sit around uselessly.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. We work better together.” That was true—it wasn’t the first time they’d broken into a locked building together. It was just the first time the stakes were so high. “Just play it safe if you can.” Tinga took the lock in hand and gently put the clasp back in position, but didn’t quite let it click closed again. Just enough that no one would notice it was open at a glance. “Once I’m out of sight, go ahead.” She moved quickly and quietly back around the corner into the adjoining alley they’d come down before, and crouched behind an old, empty crate not far down.
Cestra followed her part way, but didn’t take the corner, just continued past, moving across the mouth of the alley and stopping just beyond. She glanced back, looking for Tinga, testing that the hiding place was sufficient. She must not have been able to pick anything out in the dark, because she gave a small nod.
And then she screamed.
The guards were there in moments, sprinting toward the sound. The two dwarven men closed on Cestra, hands on their weapons, magelight lanterns held high—although they were likely both hired because their dwarven night vision made those lanterns less necessary. Both had heavy beards, one blond and one black.
Cestra threw herself into the arms of the first one to reach her, the black-bearded dwarf, clinging to him like she needed the help to stay upright. “Oh, thank the Astra! You scared him off!”
“Scared who off?” the blond dwarf asked, peering into the dark.
“There was a man, he grabbed me, pulled me down this alley,” Cestra explained between heaving sobs, burying her face in the chest of the black-haired dwarf. “I don’t know what he’d have done with me if you hadn’t come! He went that way!” She pointed further down the alley, toward the back of the warehouse.
The black-haired dwarf looked to his partner. “We better have a look.” He moved to release Cestra—or rather, pry her off him.
She just held him tighter, wailing. “You can’t leave me alone!”
“She’s right,” the blond dwarf. “You look after her, I’ll see what I can find.” He drew a heavy bludgeon in one hand and headed down the alley at a trot, holding his lantern out in front of him.
Cestra continued to wail and clutch the remaining guard as he awkwardly tried to comfort her. Under the cover of her hysterics, Tinga left her hiding spot and crept up from behind. Tane had taught her all about misdirection—with a crying girl hanging all over him, the man wasn’t likely to be paying too much attention to his pockets, and even in the light of his lantern he couldn’t see what he wasn’t looking at.
The guards didn’t wear uniforms or visible badges, but they had to have some magical token that let them do rounds inside the warehouse. This dwarf was right-handed, based on the way he’d touched his weapon as he’d approached; Tinga took an educated guess.
In and out, quick and easy. She slipped her hand into the man’s right pocket, closed it around a small flat disc she found there, and drew back. Cestra’s antics masked her touch; the guard showed no sign that he’d seen anything. Tinga glanced down, praying she hadn’t stolen a stray coin. The disc was brass—generally used for badges, since it didn’t channel magic at all, just served as a surface to engrave glyphs without worrying about unanticipated side effects. Tinga had learned enough at the University—and from Tane—to recognize the identifiers of a simple ward access key. Just what I was looking for. She caught Cestra’s eye over the guard’s shoulder, gave her a nod, and ducked back into hiding.
“Please,” Cestra said, forcing a little hiccup as she ceased her fake sobs. “Can we go after your partner? I’m sorry, I just… I’d feel safer with both of you, and I won’t be able to believe that man isn’t coming back unless I have a look.”
“Are you sure, miss?” The black-haired dwarf helped her to her feet, glancing worriedly down the alley where his partner had gone. “Could be dangerous.”
Cestra nodded. “I don’t think you’ll find him, anyway. He moved fast when he heard you coming. He’s probably long gone by now. But I… I need to see for myself.”
“Right. Come on, then.” The dwarf led her off, and she clung to his arm, still sniffling.
She should have joined the theatre. But Tinga didn’t have much time to admire her girlfriend’s display—she had to be fast now. She emerged from behind her crate and moved up the alley toward the side door. A tug on the lock opened it once more, and this time she slipped it from the latch and pulled open the door, her hand clasped tight around the guard’s badge.
The wards didn’t stop her as she stepped across the threshold. That’s step one finished. Now I just need to get back out before someone notices the door is unlocked. Cestra was supposed to give a signal if they came back this way, but if the guards split up again or did something else unpredictable, the warning might not come in time.
The warehouse was dark inside, but Tinga had no trouble seeing in the dark. And yet, for some reason, no one’s rushing to hire goblins as night guards. She didn’t see anything she didn’t expect, just a large space full of shelves, all piled high with crates of varying size. There was a Hobbier insignia on the nearest ones to her, and probably most of the others she couldn’t see as well. Too many to check them all. Wish I knew what I was looking for. She made her way down long, shadowed aisles, moving toward the back. If she had to guess, she figured Endo would keep anything important hidden from sight in a dark corner.
But there was nothing there. The warehouse ended in a wall of shelves that stretched from one end to the other. She turned, looked the way she’d come, toward the door. It wasn’t far, wouldn’t take long to get back. She still had a little time to search. But search where?
That was when she noticed something strange.
She’d seen the warehouse from outside. Seen the length of it. The distance she’d come from the door before hitting the back wall didn’t seem far enough. And she remembered something else: Endo had hidden himself in a cavern in Belgrier with an illusory stone wall. If she hadn’t seen that, the idea might not have occurred to her at all.
She turned to the rear wall once more, reached out tentatively to touch the nearest crate.
Resistance, rough wood under her fingers. It was real.
Of course it was—this probably wasn’t even the right spot. Endo wouldn’t have made an illusion so large, or so accessible. If a single stray touch was all it took, it would be too easily discovered by a guard doing rounds or the like. Not a problem if they were in on the trick, but the guards outside were clearly nothing special. Just paid men, probably making an average wage. Good for avoiding attention when hiding in plain sight, but not the type Endo was going to trust with important secrets.
But that wall still didn’t go far enough back. Something was behind it.
She pulled the brass vial from her pocket once more and took out her piece of ancryst. It didn’t immediately react, and it wouldn’t pinpoint what she was looking for even when it did—the crates themselves could simply have magically reactive goods inside. But it would help narrow down the search.
Tinga walked along the length of the shelf, stopping each time the ancryst moved in her hand. Two, three, four times it reacted, and upon closer examination she found nothing of interest—just some artifact sealed in a wooden box. And then, on the fifth such search, something promising: a gap between crates, large enough for someone to fit through. Inconspicuous at a glance, probably no more than happenstance.
Unless she was right.
Tinga slipped into the gap, holding the ancryst in her closed left fist. It pulled harder as she neared the back wall, trying to tug her away.
She reached out with her right hand.
It passed right through the wall.
Tinga stowed her piece of ancryst once more, and then stepped forward, hoping she wasn’t about to slam her face into solid brick.
She didn’t. Instead, she emerged into a large chamber that took up the rear of the warehouse. From this side, she could see the doorway clearly, perhaps six feet across and eight high. Nothing out of the ordinary, sized for easy passage of freight. The illusory brick was visible still, across the mouth of it, but lacking the depth to hide the frame—only enough to make it look solid from the other side.
She was going to brag about this later. Even Tane might have missed that.
But she could be smug when she was done. Right now, what mattered more was the contents of the room.
Dead center in front of Tinga stood a large machine with a brass orb atop it and a console of dials and switches underneath. Felisa Thorpe’s design. And beyond that, a number of work tables along the back wall, scattered with parts. It didn’t take much effort to deduce their purpose—amid the metal were pieces of brass shaped like fingers, feet, the joints and casings of disassembled limbs. Someone had been building golems.
Endo Stooke had been here.
Tinga approached the machine, bent over the console. The dials weren’t set to default positions—she knew this configuration. She and Tane had obsessively studied the scrolls taken from the machine in Belgrier to figure out exactly how it worked.
It was set to turn the dead into Endo’s slaves. Which meant it had probably been used to do just that already.
He’s already been turning people.
And then, from outside, a shrill, piercing scream. Cestra. Tinga’s heart seized at the sound, even knowing that it was only a signal for her to get out of there.
She glanced at the machine, her mind racing. Do I sabotage it? Try to break something? No, that would only tell Endo that someone had been here. He could fix it easily enough, and he might not even need it anymore if he’s already used it. There was nothing to be done, and she didn’t have time. The knowledge that it was there would have to be enough.
She darted out the doorway, passing through illusory brick, and went quickly down the aisles to the side exit. She’d made a point of memorizing the way, so there were no missed turns. The guards could be outside waiting for her already, but there was no way to know without looking. Speed was her best chance, so she didn’t hesitate, just opened the door and stepped into the alley.
Nobody in sight, yet, but she could hear them, around the back of the building.
“I’m so sorry for screaming like that,” Cestra was saying. “I could have sworn I saw him again, but I suppose it was just a shadow.”
“No problem, miss,” one of the guards answered. “Can’t blame you for being nervous after what happened to you.”
Tinga put the lock back in place and let it click shut this time, sealing the door behind her. Then, as quietly as she could manage, she dashed down the alley and around the corner into the next one, ducking behind the same crate as before. Once she was hidden from sight, she took the stolen badge from her pocket and tossed it along the ground. She’d judged the throw decently; it skittered to a stop near where Cestra had first met the watchmen.
They came around the corner not long after.
“Thank you so much, Cestra said as they neared the spot where Tinga was hiding. “I don’t know what I would have—” She paused a moment, bent down. “What’s this?” With the badge pinched between her fingers, she straightened. “Do you recognize it?”
Both dwarves frowned, checked their pockets. “It’s mine,” said the black-haired one when his hands came back empty. “Must have dropped it when we found you.”
“My fault, probably,” Cestra said with a shy smile. “The way I grabbed you, I’m not surprised I dislodged something.”
“Thank you, anyway,” the black-haired dwarf said. “Could have lost my job.”
“Well, I’m glad I could do something to help my heroes, then,” Cestra said as the three of them continued on toward the front of the building. She kept chattering as they went—not giving them time to consider that her find might have been anything more than a lucky accident.
Tinga rose out of hiding and jogged the rest of the way down the adjoining alley, toward the street. She waited at the corner for a few minutes before Cestra joined her.
“I’m surprised you got away so quickly,” Tinga said with a teasing smile. “Thought they’d want you to stay and gush about their heroism a little longer.”
Cestra grinned. “Don’t be jealous. Did you find anything?”
Tinga felt the smile vanish from her face. “Something I wish I hadn’t. Endo’s been busy. We need to tell the others.”
Chapter Six
_____
INDREE PULLED THE black cowl down over her face.
The disguise made her look the part of one of the so-called Knights of the Emperor, in black from head to toe with her face covered like an executioner, but the eye-holes narrowed her vision more than she liked. Especially when she was about to walk into a hostile environment, alone and outnumbered.
The Hall of the Astra she’d been watching for a long while now was in Stooketon, at the corner of a street lined with modest middle-class homes, their windows glowing warmly against the darkness. This was the sort of place families came for morning gatherings, to hear the bondsman give formulaic talks on the blessings of the Astra. Not overly fancy, nothing like the massive halls in the Gryphon’s Roost, but the large silver four-pointed star above the door had a regularly-polished shine, and the small grounds boasted recently trimmed grass and manicured shrubbery on either side of the front walkway. A partially above-ground basement level was apparent at a glance by the set of windows that sat low around the base of the building.
It was amusing and appalling at the same time that Endo’s loyalists had reserved a room in the basement of a local hall like they were holding a community get-together. I suppose it is one, at that. It’s not as if these people are coming in from some far-off land. I might recognize any one of them from the local market, if I could see their faces. And it wasn’t actually particularly surprising to Indree that they’d gathered here, nor would it be for anyone who had served in the constabulary. Despite their wholesome reputation, Halls of the Astra attracted pro-magical extremists like garbage attracted flies.
That was the very reason Indree believed the whispers of such a gathering, though the Silver Dawn’s information network hadn’t been able to firmly verify anything. She’d tracked some of Endo’s “knights” to this very hall once, in the months after the would-be emperor had announced himself and plunged Thaless into a period of violent clashes between the magical and non-magical. She hadn’t been able to effectively act on the information—she couldn’t bring them down singlehandedly, and the higher ranks hadn’t been keen on putting bodies or resources into the effort. A cursory force at rallies and protests to keep the peace, and that was all.
She’d come early to watch the building from hiding, squeezed into the shadows between a fence and a high hedge that ran around a house across the intersection from the hall. The attendees made a point of arriving alone or in small groups, never too many at once. Most pulled their cowls over their faces when they drew near the hall, though some didn’t bother masking themselves at all, at least not before they entered. Either way, few came close enough unmasked for Indree to discern recognizable facial features.
None seemed terribly concerned about being seen. Perhaps they took it for granted that the streets were empty in the dark of full night, clear of staring eyes. And save for hers, they weren’t wrong. Too clear, in one notable regard: Indree had seen no sign of a constabulary presence. Patrol routes were drawn to ensure a constable would be within shouting distance of any given part of Thaless at least once an hour, in theory. It didn’t hold true for many of the poorer areas of town, but middle-class Stooketon was a different matter. She’d been watching for more than two hours—a night patrol should have passed by in that time.
Unless someone had explicitly arranged to prevent it.
So we were right not to go to the constabulary. Endo has
to have influential people inside. She’d had her suspicions about that for a long while, even before she’d left Thaless for Belgrier, but nothing solid. Knowing she’d been right wasn’t particularly satisfying. We’re supposed to be better than this.
The arrivals were spaced further apart now, dwindling, which meant it was time to make her entrance. She didn’t want to interrupt a meeting already underway, but it was best to be among the last to enter, so she could slip into a full hall unnoticed. Far down the street she could see a few more figures drawing near, which probably meant she wasn’t too late. As good a time as any.
She slipped out of hiding and crossed the intersection to approach the hall. No one was waiting outside, but she’d caught glimpses inside as people entered; there was a large, cowled human man in there checking badges. She reached into her pocket to grip the one the Silver Dawn had given her, a brass disc enamelled in deep purple and inlaid with a golden staff and crown. According to Iskar, they’d acquired it in a confrontation at one of their rallies only a day before. With any luck, its glyphs are still valid.
Inside, the big man was waiting for her, more than six feet tall, with bulky shoulders and arms thick with muscle. He motioned for her badge and focused for a moment when she offered it, clearly casting some divination. Indree tried not to visibly hold her breath or give anything away—she didn’t want to tangle with this man.
It must have passed muster, because he gave her a nod. “Now. Move this.” He held a small piece of translucent green ancryst in his open palm. It was a simple way to test for magical ability, and Indree had expected something like it, but the limited vision of it still astonished her. As long as I have magic, they can trust me. True, they’d also checked the badge, but still, that easy assumption said so much. They couldn’t help but believe that if she shared their power she must be on their side. I wish they weren’t right so much of the time.
The Mage War Page 5