Split the Party

by Drew Hayes

  “Time and resources can turn any talent into spectacle,” Fritz replied. “Just as every warrior could once only lift a single stone, even the greatest of mages once started with the simplest of spells. Besides, this place has existed for thousands of years, with each new generation of mages inheriting and adding to it. I’m pretty sure there are enchantments woven in here that none of the modern mages would be able to replicate.”

  “Your confidence overwhelms me with esteem.” This voice belonged to neither Grumph, nor Gabrielle, nor Fritz. Instead, a new figure shimmered into view before them. He looked to be neither fully elf nor human, with slightly long ears that stuck out well below his short blue-blond hair. Robes adorned his body just as a slightly annoyed sneer decorated his face. He looked the three of them up and down slowly, the dissatisfaction all but sparkling in his eyes. At last, he spoke again, this time with a touch of confusion in his voice.

  “Is this some sort of a joke, trader? I received summons that a new mage had come to apply for guild membership, yet all I find is you and a pair of warriors. Useful business tool or not, I do not take lightly to having my time wasted.”

  “Chill out, Ferdy,” Fritz replied, unbothered by the man’s condescending tone. “I’m not the one who opened the door. That would be my friend here, the wizard Grumph.” Fritz’s arm fell across Grumph shoulders, lest there be any confusion about which of the two she was referring to.

  “My name is Ferdinand De Corslo, and I will be speaking to the council of High Mages about this stunt of yours.” The mage’s fists were curled up into balls, and Grumph could see a flush already creeping up his pale neck. “Just because you make us a bit of money, you think you can come around here, acting as an equal, undermining our sacred rites and laws, making a mockery of us to suit your whimsy. Well, this time—”

  Ferdy was cut off as Grumph finished the spell he’d been casting under his breath, which caused a bucket of water to appear and fall to the ground only a few feet in front of the ranting mage. His next words died on his tongue as he stared at the conjured item, going back and forth from Grumph to Fritz to the bucket, and then repeating the cycle over and over again. When at last he spoke, the red was fading from his neck and his hands had become only half-fists.

  “Fritz, did you use one of your trinkets to do that?”

  “She didn’t. I cast the spell.” Grumph stepped forward, not that he doubted Ferdy would mistake his voice for either of the women’s. It was simply time to set himself apart and push the issue. If they were going to be turned away, then he’d rather see it happen sooner than later. At least that would give them some chance to regroup and, perhaps, think of a new plan. They didn’t have time to piss away on pointless chatter that would yield no results. Or, to be more precise, their friends didn’t have that time.

  “Did you now? Then, would you be so kind as to cast another?” Ferdy’s tone was somewhere between sarcasm and genuine interest, his head cocked to the side like a dog being shown a bone he is uncertain he’ll be allowed to chew on.

  Grumph went more slowly this time, being deliberate with his motions and the muttering of words across his tongue. Even now, they still sounded like gibberish to his ears, but after countless hours of study, they had become familiar gibberish. He drew the magic through himself, weaving it with thought, word, and motion until at last the desired effect manifested into being. A golden spear seemingly made of light appeared in his right hand. With a thought, Grumph reshaped it into a hammer, then a short sword, before finally settling on a falchion.

  “You can cast,” Ferdy said, his tone somehow still neutral. “My apologies, Fritz. It seems you did nothing to befuddle our wards after all. One who can wield magic is indeed fit to request membership. Whether he will be granted it or not depends on just how powerful he is. You may dismiss your spell, Grumph the wizard. I accept you as a caster, and, as such, you may follow me to the chambers of the Apprentice Committee. They will determine your worthiness from there.”

  “I look forward to it.” Grumph began walking forward, noting that Fritz and Gabrielle were doing the same. Unfortunately, he was not the only one to recognize three sets of footsteps where there should have been one.

  “Unless you two would like to show me some spells as well, you have no business following me any further,” Ferdy snapped, turning to the warriors and the trader. “Fritz has permission to be here in her capacity as a vendor for our wares, but you, red-armored thug, have no such rights. This is a place of magic, not a bar room for you to trash. Go back out through the door you came in.”

  “What the hell did you call me?”

  Grumph found himself slightly thankful that Gabrielle’s axe had been shattered, as her hand reached back and gripped the handle of the broken weapon. If she’d had anything worth swinging, he had little doubt she’d have tried to make the mage eat his words, along with her blade.

  “Ferdy, my rights as a trusted vendor also afford me the privilege of lodging for myself and any servants that may be in my employ.” Fritz had moved swiftly, placing herself between the fuming barbarian and the smug mage. “Gabrielle here is working as my bodyguard; she and Grumph helped me escape a mess of bandits on the way to Cadence Hollow. Under guild law, she has every right to stay so long as she is with me or in my quarters.”

  Grumph half-expected Ferdy to start a fight himself with the way he was glaring at Fritz, but instead, the half-elf merely nodded, albeit with aching slowness. “So she is. Be sure she doesn’t stray from your side, though. We have no need for wild dogs wandering in these sacred halls, and they shall not be tolerated.” He turned to Grumph, barely-contained rage still seething in his eyes. “If you wish to be a mage here, then you must start with two things: follow me right now, and rethink the sort of people you ally yourself with.”

  With a twirl of his robe, Ferdy was off, nearly stomping down the cavernous hallway at a brisk pace. Grumph spared a single look back to his friends, and then hurried to keep up. A few verbal slights were nothing compared to the need of their friends back in that cursed town. By now, they might have taken sick or been overrun with possessed citizens or who knew what manner of calamity. Grumph was the only one who might be able to bring back help, and he would be damned if he let some insipid spell-slinger stop him from accomplishing his goals.

  Grumph had seen too many gravestones bearing names he knew. He would give all he had to keep another from being made.

  * * *

  Fritz clapped her hands together, startling Gabrielle, who was still watching the mage and Grumph walk down the hall.

  “Well, that went about as well as it was ever going to. You want to get some food? After weeks on the road, I could go for a nice meal.”

  “What the hell was that guy’s problem?” Gabrielle almost felt actual pain in her head as she went from dealing with that asshole to Fritz’s cheerful voice.

  “Don’t mind Ferdy, he just doesn’t like me because the higher ups in the guild tend to trust me more than him.” Fritz patted her satchel tenderly. “First rule of the world: nothing out there—not rank, nor skill, nor prestige—nothing matters more to those in charge than who’s making them the most money. Ferdy hangs around and does work for the council, trying to move his way up the ladder legitimately. Meanwhile, I show up, the barest of magical talents to my name, and I’m rubbing elbows with the archmages because my sales are financing new wings on half their towers. Sort of pisses him off.”

  Gabrielle thought the prospect over for a moment, and then a rogue question slipped into her head that she couldn’t help asking. “When you say new wings, are you talking about sections of the buildings or literal wings that would make the towers fly?”

  “Depends on the mage in question,” Fritz replied. “Anyway, food? Grumph is probably going to be a while, but there’s no reason for us to starve. Besides, with Ferdy shutting us out, we’ll have to depend on the gossip mill to know how your friend is doing. No better place to constantly run into mages than a caf
eteria.”

  “I . . . I guess that makes sense. But how do we get there?” Gabrielle pointed off toward where Grumph was fading into the distance, and then back toward the door through which they’d entered. “This place is just one long hallway, and your buddy was pretty clear about us not following.”

  “Oh, this? This is just for the rookies and tourists. Big, grand impressions designed to keep up the image of the all-powerful guild of mages.” After a few seconds of digging through her satchel, Fritz produced a small golden key that seemed to almost glow in the lantern light. “I’ve got the portable shortcut system right here.”

  Fritz walked over to a section of wall—smooth stone just like the rest of the hall—and held up the key. In seconds, a wooden door much like the one they’d entered through had bloomed into view. With a simple twist, Fritz spun open the knob. Before Gabrielle could register so much as a single sight, a wall of scent hit her like a charging ogre: roasting meats, cooked vegetables, countless sauces she could only briefly recognize from the fanciest of galas her parents had drug her to, plus an array of tantalizing odors she’d never so much as caught whiffs of before. The rumble from her stomach echoed through the vast hall, so loud that the tips of Gabrielle’s ears turned red in embarrassment.

  “No need to feel bad; if yours hadn’t drowned mine out, you’d have heard quite the symphony from my gut as well,” Fritz said. “But let’s go actually enjoy the food, rather than torturing ourselves by merely lapping up the scent.”

  Gabrielle needed no more convincing than what had already been delivered. She followed Fritz through the door, stepping into a vast room that was bigger than the entire estate where she’d grown up. Ornately decorated tables were set up in all directions, with only a few people—nearly all them in robes—sitting about. Gorgeous sunlight streamed through sculpted windows, pouring across the tables and perfectly lighting the food. A vast circle stood at the back of the room, filled with pots and dishes that were nearly overflowing with all manner of morsels. Periodically, a few mages would make their way around the circle, piling plates high with as much of the assortment as they could manage, though inevitably, it was only a fraction of what was present.

  “Can you explain this to me?” Gabrielle could feel her jaw hanging open just as she could sense the curious stares locked on her, but she paid neither any mind. There was too much here to be amazed by for her to allow such trivial concerns to cloud the experience.

  “Everyone likes good food,” Fritz said. “And, like I said, one building with many doors. This place feeds pretty much all of the mage outposts in the world, which is also why it’s such a great place to gather information.”

  She pointed over to the circle of food, which Gabrielle noticed was not being depleted no matter how much the others took for their plates. “As for the technical side of things, spells that summon food are pretty common, but what they conjure is often very basic. Some mages like to tinker about, though, and a few of them managed to create spells for delicious, savory meals. Pair that with a good enchanter and you have a self-filling pot of stew. Rinse and repeat for everything up there. As for the tables and chairs, a few replication and self-cleaning spells took care of seating. That’s pretty much all we needed. Oh, except for the sunlight. That’s imported.”

  “Imported?” Gabrielle took a deep breath, nearly setting off her stomach as she did, and tried to focus. “If I ask you to tell me how that’s possible, will I even understand the explanation?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t really get it myself, so the odds aren’t great,” Fritz admitted.

  “Then let’s not bother. Right now, it’s taking all I have not to dash over there and eat straight out of the cookware.”

  “I won’t say you’d be the first, but it generally never goes over well. Let’s stick to plates and silverware for now.” Fritz led the way to the circle of food, where she immediately began piling things on her plate with reckless abandon.

  Gabrielle tried to show a bit more restraint at first; her years as the mayor’s daughter had left her mother’s voice constantly in her head, reminding her how a proper lady should act. Eventually, pragmatism overtook habit, as the dishes she wanted to try were more than would fit neatly on a plate. Even caving as she did, Gabrielle was forced to finally walk away with no fewer than a dozen items she still wanted to sample but simply could not fit on her dish.

  She and Fritz sat down at one of the tables that were unoccupied, which were by far the majority. Despite the trader’s promise of people to talk to, the cafeteria seemed largely deserted to Gabrielle, though that might have been a matter of perspective. In a place so huge, even several hundred people might seem paltry.

  “How does sitting alone help us find out what’s happening with Grumph?” Gabrielle asked. It was a testament to her friendship that her plate was yet untouched, concern for the half-orc outweighing even the temptation of culinary decadence.

  “Obviously, it doesn’t,” Fritz replied. “But we actually have to wait for something to happen first. Remember what I said: mages do things slowly. Until his first meeting is over, there’s no news to get. I hate to break it to you, but this is largely what it’s going to be like while you’re here. Whether he makes it or not, Grumph is going to have to fight this battle on his own. The most we can do is cheer him on and pray to the gods he finds a way to pull things off.”

  “I’m not a fan of sitting idle,” Gabrielle said.

  “There are other things to do in Cadence Hollow,” Fritz said. “In fact, after lunch and my meeting, I’ll even help you with the most pressing one. Literally, it’s pressing against your back.”

  Gabrielle didn’t need to reach up and touch the remains of her axe; she knew too well the weight to which Fritz referred. Much as the idea of simply buying a new one saddened her, deep down she knew it was inevitable. Without a weapon, she had no place alongside the others. Her strength had already come up lacking in the last fight, and that was when she had her axe. Now, without it, she felt almost powerless, closer to the Gabrielle who had sat in the sitting room with her family than the one who had prowled the forest with goblins.

  “Thank you for the offer.” Gabrielle picked up her fork and began to eat at last. “I’d like that very much, actually. After we hear about Grumph, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 18

  The fire was beginning to die out on its own when a purple cloud appeared over it, raining fat droplets that extinguished the remaining cinders with a sizzling hiss. A woman, waving a wand with a glowing purple tip, looked on carefully until the fire was completely out, and then flicked her wand upward and caused the cloud to vanish.

  “If you let it burn itself out, the chamber will stink for days,” she explained to the other two people in robes, tucking the wand back up her sleeve.

  “Let the record show that Grumph, wizard and mage guild applicant, has now cast two spells in front of the admissions committee, and two in front of his escort, Ferdinand De Corslo.” It was Ferdy who said this, speaking to a small man, nearly gnome-sized, who was rapidly scribbling things down on a scroll. “Though they require little mana, they were executed within the realms of acceptability. Grumph, you may continue when ready.”

  “I have one more.” Grumph’s voice was a harsh contrast to the almost-but-not-quite lyrical sounds of Ferdy’s half-elven tones. “But people need to be hurt for it to work.”

  Around Grumph were Ferdy and two others, all three observers resting on a curved stone that rose from the floor and wrapped around half the room. They were sitting no less than eight feet in the air, staring down at Grumph as he conjured his spells in the designated area across from them. Thus far, neither the elven male nor the human woman with the wand had said much, preferring to let Ferdy handle the talking, most of which was simply giving Grumph instructions to cast his next spell. They were judging him; that much had been made abundantly clear by the room’s setup. Grumph had come in expecting to be evaluated, t
hough he’d hoped they might be a touch less overt about it all.

  “Also, casting it drains me. A lot.” There was nothing to be gained by hiding his limitations. This was not a point he was going to be able to bluff his way past, not with people who knew so much more about magic than he. If Grumph wanted to have a shot, all he could do was his best and pray it was enough.

  “Can you elaborate on why you need people who are injured?” The elf spoke for the first time, face resting on the elegant, long fingers that were crossed beneath his chin.

  “It helps them up. Gives them strength, for a time.” Grumph had only managed to cast this spell once before, yet the memory of it was seared in his mind more clearly than all the others. Clutching the strange, unnatural artifact had torn open his mind, showing him the world in ways he didn’t yet understand. In that moment, the spell he’d been struggling with became so clear, so simple, that Grumph would never be able to forget it.

  “Interesting. One moment.” The elf’s eyes closed as he muttered a few words under his breath. When next his lids parted, his irises had gone from the golden color of honey to a glowing green like fresh summer grass. “You may now cast, Grumph. I’ll be able to see the magic, even if there are no targets to use it on.”

  Grumph nodded; it wasn’t as though he had much choice aside from trusting these people. With a moment of calm to focus, he pulled up the memory of that spell, weaving it into the world even as he felt the strength begin to leave his body. Part of him feared that he’d taxed himself too much by casting his other spells first. That worry gave no aid, though, so Grumph pushed it aside. He had to believe he could cast the spell, because he had to cast the spell. Too much rode on it. Failure was not tolerable.