Red Jade: Book 1: Journeys In Kallisor

by Stephen Wolf

  Dariak used the distraction to his advantage, kicking his attacker forcefully in a rather sensitive area and following it up by bringing the hilt of his dagger down on the back of the man’s head, rendering him senseless. With two men out cold and one writhing on the floor in fiery agony, the fourth fighter lost his nerve and bolted for help. Once he was outside the tavern, Dariak heard a sharp whistle cutting through the air in a staccato pattern. Help would be on the way.

  Randler had the same conclusion. “Dariak!” he called out, rushing over to the mage and grabbing him in a strong embrace. “Not quite the entertainment I had intended,” he added with a grin.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine. Listen, there isn’t time,” the bard said, focusing his eyes on Dariak. “You need to get out of here before others arrive. You have to get to safety.”

  “What about you? I’ll help.”

  “These guys have been after me for a while, Dariak. I know how to lose them, and it will be faster alone.”

  The mage pulled away sharply. “Go then.”

  Randler grabbed Dariak’s shoulder. “No, listen first. I took something long ago, and they’ve been hunting me for it. I won’t let them have it.” He turned Dariak around to face him again. “You either.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been looking for companion pieces to the one I found, and I know you have one.”

  Dariak instinctively clutched the object sewn into the chest pocket of his mage robes, then cursed himself for reacting that way. “What do you know?”

  “You felt it resonate, I’m sure. I knew you had it. They had one tonight, which was how they tracked me so quickly this time.”

  With his hand on his chest, Dariak could indeed feel the object pulsating. And all this time, he had thought his heart was only racing because of Randler. “I’m seeking them too,” he admitted, not knowing what else to say.

  Shouts echoed outside. They didn’t have much time. “We came here for the same reason, didn’t we? So stay, Dariak, and claim that piece.”

  “But—”

  “There’s no time. I’m heading north, once I lose their trail. Please,” Randler asked, his eyes wide with sincerity, “take care of yourself and don’t let them hurt you.”

  “Randler—!”

  The tavern door crashed inward, and the minstrel grabbed Dariak and kissed him deeply before turning and darting up to the stage to grab his belongings, then bolting out the rear exit, leaving Dariak highly confused.

  The guardsmen who came in only saw the last steps of the minstrel as he escaped through the back; thus they paid no heed to Dariak. He waited until the soldiers all left, and then he followed, barely peering his head out the door, wondering if Randler would be all right. The guards had already fled and turned down an alley and were lost to him. Utterly baffled, exhausted, and at a loss, Dariak made his way cautiously back to the sanctuary, where he sought a bed and stared at the ceiling all night long, wondering what was going on.

  Chapter 7

  Bartering

  Answers didn’t come to him in the few hours of sleep he managed. Dariak awoke and rubbed his eyes, frustrated with the turn of events. He tried convincing himself that it was for the best, that Randler would have just been a distraction from his mission, but then it seemed as if the minstrel knew of his mission, which wasn’t possible. He hadn’t told anyone what he was planning.

  A patron of the sanctuary walked in and sat on another bed along the row and started sighing loudly, as if inviting Dariak to ask what was wrong. The mage took it as his cue to leave. He gathered his belongings and washed up quickly in the baths, then decided that he would finish off that list of errands so he could have his arm properly cured.

  After his bath, he looked over the list, compared the destinations to the map, and counted the coins he had for all the shopping. Two things interested him. First, the healers were indeed paying him well, as he now had over three hundred gold pieces in his pouch from yesterday’s errands alone. He hadn’t expected to turn such a profit on this venture. Second, the rest of the items he needed would take him to shops near the castle gates. He wondered if he would be able to pass the guard station in the healer’s robes. It would certainly reduce complications.

  Dariak walked by Gabrion’s room on the way out, noting that the warrior was still unconscious. The healers had to be keeping him sedated until Dariak’s tasks were finished, because, on the whole, the wounds themselves hadn’t been that severe, and the fighter had a strong will to keep going.

  As he meandered through the streets to the candle maker, Dariak’s mind wandered back to the events in the tavern. Randler seemed so calm about being hunted. Plus, he had known about Dariak’s secret treasure and his mission to collect more of them. Dariak absently clutched the object at his chest and then scolded himself for doing so. He had learned something interesting, at least. It would resonate when close to others of its kind. That would be helpful, if he paid closer attention.

  His thoughts then turned to Randler himself. Had Dariak really felt the fluttering of his heart when the bard was near, or was it just the resonance? But then he admonished himself. Randler was graceful, handsome, talented, apparently athletic, and—even more important than all that—an excellent kisser. Dariak’s smile lasted all the way to the candle shop.

  Because of all the funds he had accrued so far, Dariak was able to clear this order in one visit. The healers had requested a full crate of candles, though of various kinds, and once it was all put together, the shopkeeper tallied up a cost of four hundred and fifteen gold. After some finagling, Dariak negotiated the price down by a hundred, plus the use of a trolley to get the crate back to the cathedral. Just a few more items remained.

  After dropping the trolley off at the candle shop, Dariak made his way to the castle gate. He had to control himself as the gates loomed closer, for they were enormous. They opened like standard double doors but were made of wrought-iron bars crisscrossing in an intricate pattern, not simply in chessboard style. They were easily the height of five men and had to weigh more than four horses fully decked out in battle armor, with riders to boot. Further examination revealed a chain-and-pulley system that clearly made opening and closing the gates possible. On either side of the entrance was a guard tower, carved of bright sandstone with the sheen of marble.

  Dariak took a deep breath and decided to stroll right through, as the gates were currently open to the people. It was time to see if the healer’s robes would be enough to get him inside.

  Two steps away from the gate, a tall lance shot down and blocked his path. “Ho there. Where are you headed?”

  He wasn’t about to announce that he wanted to visit the museum to abscond with one of the artifacts, so instead he said, “The royal gardens call to me today, and I have need of nectar for the healers, which is available here.”

  “Oddly enough,” the guard said, “I don’t hear the gardens calling anybody. At least not without a proper admittance pass or invitation.” He scrutinized Dariak for a moment. “Haven’t seen you around before. New to town, son?”

  “I have been working with the healers for some time,” he lied. “My work has often kept me secluded.”

  “I see. So you should have known that you would need permission from the royal family in order to visit the gardens.”

  Dariak pulled a frustrated face. “But Master Elgris told me to come here for the nectar. What am I to do?”

  Elgris was apparently a name the guard knew, for his stance shifted and he raised the lance. “I certainly have no reason to cross the will of the healer,” said the guard, and Dariak struggled to keep the hope that this would work off his face. “So there is only one thing I can do.”

  “Thank you.” Dariak bowed his head, taking a step forward.

  The guard caught him with a powerful, gauntleted hand. “The only thing I can
do, son, is send you on your way.”

  “What? I don’t understand. The nectar—”

  Now the guard laughed. “You need a better ruse than that. Or at least, more current information. Master Elgris was already here this morning to visit His Majesty, and he made no comment of sending along an underling.”

  “But—”

  “And Master Elgris had a perfectly clear writ of passage, so if he needed you to gather anything here, surely he would have seen to hand you one.” A knock sounded on the guard tower door from the inside. “Oh, just a moment,” he said to Dariak as he turned and took a sheet of parchment from someone inside. With a booming laugh, he turned the parchment around to show Dariak.

  What Dariak saw was a very good likeness of himself, sketched out in coal.

  “So here is what I suggest, friend,” the guard said amiably. “Go run along and mind your own business, and never mind trying to sneak into the castle. If you do intend to sneak in, I would recommend you do so within the next two hours, because by then all the guards will have seen this portrait, and you can imagine that it will be hard for you to pass through after that, eh?”

  A bell rang over the tower, and the guard belted out another hearty laugh. “No, not two hours. Less now, I fear. That signal means someone tried to infiltrate the castle, so everyone will be on alert, and the captains will now head straight here to view this image of you.”

  Dariak shook his head in amazement at the efficiency of these tactics. They were simultaneously marvelous and infuriating. He let his face show his emotion this time but simply said, “All I wanted was to see the royal gardens before I died.”

  “Then you had better petition for entrance, which will take a few months. Or you should try hurrying it along right now and find the gardens quickly while the guard hunts you down. You’ll die as soon as you’re caught, of course, but you might catch that glimpse you’re looking for.” He was enjoying himself entirely too much. “Now if there’s nothing else, move along.”

  So he did, carrying himself with an air of injustice about being treated so unfairly. Once he was away from the castle entrance, he dropped the farce and stormed his way to the town mystic, who sold all sorts of crystals and such. He sat outside for a few moments to calm himself before heading in, fearing he would lash out and ruin his chances at striking a good bargain.

  Two other customers were inside, browsing aimlessly, talking about buying a piece of malachite so they could put it in their pockets and find money wherever they went. Dariak hated such stories, because they were far from the truth. He understood that crystals were suitable for channeling energy; he could feel that directly from his training. But people didn’t realize that, in essence, they would need the ability to call for money on their own, and the malachite would just facilitate the process, just like the healers needed rose quartz to help magnify their powers. The stones alone would do nothing more than amplify any excess healing energy nearby.

  He did concede, though, that if the right person focused his or her thoughts on a gemstone, it was possible to re-create the semblance of an effect, but that was rare without real training. He thumbed through one of the books on crystals and, as expected, saw descriptions of the inherent healing powers but none of the warnings that they wouldn’t work for most people. Still, it was a business, he guessed.

  Shopping here was actually better than shopping in most places, because he could feel the flaws in the crystals and test how they would carry energy before he selected a piece. The proprietor offered several substandard chunks of mineral, and Dariak looked at her scornfully, shaking his head and pointing at other objects instead. She soon realized that he was a practitioner of sorts, and her demeanor changed completely. She became much more formal and less mystical, pulling out choice specimens for Dariak to examine. He checked his list and looked at her wares, nodding to himself. He could finish everything off here.

  It took over two hours for him to select the gemstones and minerals the healers needed. He added to that the requested varieties of incense and a few dried herbs. Seeing the range of items he was selecting, the owner’s demeanor changed again. She turned friendly, without being phony, and offered a bargain price at the start for the whole set, making negotiations all but unnecessary. Dariak didn’t even argue the price, but he managed to get a polished cut of tiger’s-eye thrown in for free. That one went into his pocket, for the colors reminded him of Randler.

  With all of the items accounted for and exchanged with Brenwel in the storeroom, Dariak rubbed his arm in anticipation of meeting with Elgris for healing. He needed to wait a couple of hours before the healer was available, and Dariak used the time to gather his things and prepare to leave. After removing the healer’s robe, he refolded it as tightly as possible and stuffed it in the lining of his mage robes, thinking he might need it sometime. He grabbed a bite of food and, with an hour left before his meeting with Elgris, went for a long bath.

  “Well, well, look at you,” drawled a voice some time later as Dariak soaked in the bath.

  He looked around and saw a woman slinking out of the shadows with a very practiced and symmetrical motion. It was the rogue he had met in the forest ambush.

  “I decided to follow you after all, and here you are, relaxing your life away.”

  Dariak started to speak but found that he couldn’t. She was moving rhythmically, with subtle hand and arm gestures as she went.

  “See, you recognized my talent, and I think that makes you too dangerous to live.”

  He was able to move, just not speak, so he gestured to his arm, then around him, finishing off with a shrug.

  Kitalla dropped the dance with a sigh. “What? You look like a chicken flapping around in a trough.”

  Dariak cleared his throat. “We were injured, so we came here first. We weren’t supposed to still be here.”

  “You had said you were looking for something? That with it you could help make me stronger?” She bent down and rested on her heels, crossing her arms over her knees and looking at him with a strange expression.

  “Yes. It is in the castle. I need that oaf to get me in.”

  She shook with laughter, and it tinkled like glass. “Yes, your little attempt this morning was rather amusing. Trying to walk right into the most highly regarded castle in all the land? You’re either brazen or a fool. Maybe both.”

  “You? Where were you?”

  She laughed again. “It’s my forte to be where I want to be without others knowing it unless I want them to. So, mage, what is it you’re looking for?”

  The time for his meeting with Elgris was approaching. He ignored her presence for the moment and pulled himself out of the tub, which led to a raunchy whistle of approval by the rogue, who chuckled again as he rolled his eyes.

  “I never thought you mage types would keep in shape, but I guess I’ve been wrong before.”

  “I’m no swordsman,” he admitted. “But traveling around does force you to keep in some condition, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm,” she debated. “Lots of merchants carry a belly about their waists, but then I guess they do often ride wagons from place to place.” Her amused grin left her face, and she asked her question again: “Now, what are you looking for?”

  Settling his robes in place and securing a rope around his midsection, Dariak decided to offer a hint. “I need something from the museum.”

  “Tell me what and I’ll bring it to you,” she said politely, with a hint of a smile.

  It was Dariak’s turn to laugh. “Sure, I’ll tell you, you’ll take it, then you’ll keep it, thinking you can make use of it on your own.”

  Her smirk fell from her face; he had evidently guessed her intent. “You’re going to need my help anyway, especially now that they know what you look like.” She looked over her shoulder and groaned. “Someone’s coming. I guess it’s time for your little meeting. We’ll con
tinue this later.” She strode off with an exaggerated swagger that seemed to blur her appearance, making her difficult to follow. Dariak had to admit that she had an interesting grasp of the energies, and he was genuinely curious if he could help her channel offensive magic through her motions. Certainly, his father would have tried to investigate that further.

  An acolyte fetched him for his meeting with Elgris, and off he went to finally have the gash in his arm cleaned of infection and sealed properly. They walked through a series of corridors and ended up in the office where Elgris had taken him before. The oversized table was littered with parchments and other paraphernalia that Dariak ignored.

  Sitting with a cup of tea, Elgris listened to Brenwel report the status of the wares as Dariak took a seat.

  “I see,” Elgris said at the end of Brenwel’s account. “Brother Dariak, it seems you have done rather well for us on your excursion.”

  “Thank you,” he said, trying to remain patient even though he was feeling edgy after his encounter with Kitalla.

  “So next would be the matter of your healing.” Elgris grinned. “Once we have your payment, of course.”

  “My what?” Dariak shouted. “I did what you asked! I ran all of your little errands and brought back better quality things than you already have. I have given you your payment!” His face was flushed, and he shook with anger.

  Elgris leaned back in his chair and touched his fingers together sagely. “I do recall discussing Brother Gabrion’s treatment as requiring five hundred gold and yours needing seventy-five, though I can already sense that you will need more than what I first estimated, so let us say an even hundred.”

  It took all of Dariak’s composure not to start heaving spells at the healer. “What kind of place is this? You told me that if I completed your little shopping list that would cover the costs of the healing.”