Cursing, Aritoli ran after them. His long legs gave him some advantage, and he had nearly caught up to the waifs when he suddenly felt something tighten around his throat. He staggered and fell, feeling as if he were being strangled. His hands clutched at his neck but found nothing there. Sorcery, clearly, but the boy held his cane, his magic source, too far away for the advisor to dispel the attack. He felt himself suffocating as the stranglehold tightened.
Then he heard Tafiya shouting, "Drop it, brats! Give me that cane. Now off with you, before I have you put in the orphan's home!"
In moments, Aritoli felt the walking stick pressed into his hands. He pulled on its power with all his remaining strength to break the strangling spell. There was a bright flash and the constriction was instantly gone, though he still felt weak and sore. He was somewhat surprised that the spell broke so easily.
"Are you all right, Ari?" Tafi gasped beside him. "Do you need a doctor?"
"No," he coughed. "I'll...be fine. Just...home. Help me home. It's...not far." Tafi managed to help Aritoli stand, and with her support he staggered the three blocks to his townhome.
His manservant Maljun, a stately man in his late fifties, raised his brows as the pair entered. "What happened, Master Aritoli?"
Aritoli did not answer until, with a great sigh of relief, Tafi eased him down on the divan in his study.
After listening to the advisor's explanation, Maljun said, "How very peculiar, sir. Not long ago I heard a pounding at our door. When I opened it, I found this nailed to the lintel." The manservant held out a small square of canvas on which was painted a crude but recognizable portrait of Aritoli. But in the portrait, he had a white scarf tied tightly around his neck.
The advisor took the portrait and examined it. "Execrable execution," he muttered.
"If you can make such a pun, you must not be too badly hurt," said Tafi. "But what does it mean? Is someone trying to kill you?"
"I think not, Tafi. The spell was too easily foiled. It may have been intended as an annoyance. Or a warning."
"Shall I summon the Guard, sir?" asked Maljun.
"No, Maljun, there's no cause to bother them over a petty matter like this. You may retire for the evening. I shall be all right." The manservant bowed and left the study.
Tafi frowned. "How can you call this a petty matter?"
"Because I didn't wish to alarm him," Aritoli said softly. "And there isn't, in truth, much that the Guard could do. This is a sorcerous attack, and I am sure by now no traces remain in this portrait of the spell it contained. No evidence."
"But surely we can figure out who's responsible. You clearly have an enemy somewhere."
Aritoli gave a humorless chuckle. "My dear, those of my profession always have enemies. Legions of them. That fellow Freneza, for example."
"Could he have done this?"
"I doubt it. The incident seems too well thought out to be his style." Aritoli examined the portrait closely but found no hidden signatures. Holding the canvas in front of a lamp, he looked at the way the light passed through the different thicknesses of paint but could discern no patterns or symbols. With a sigh, he said, "Whoever sent this seems to wish to remain anonymous." Idly, he ran a finger along a faint scar on his left cheek.
"You think this means a duel?" Tafi said, noting his gesture.
"Eh? I hope not, Tafi."
"Why? You've won duels before."
"Ah, but this would be a duel of sorcery, not steel. My magic concerns light and color only—the stuff of illusion. I could not possibly win such a duel." Tafi was silent a moment. Then she said, "If the attack was magical, perhaps there is a magical clue in the portrait."
"Yes, that is a possibility." Aritoli picked up his walking stick and drew power from it again, just enough to send a shimmer of light over the surface of the painting. As he did so, the light coalesced into a small pillar over the center of the portrait. The light spun and twisted. Then, just before dissipating, it resolved into a recognizable shape—a white-robed form, whose hood was dark and empty.
•
"All right, let's look at the problem one more time," said Tafiya tiredly.
"If you wish." Aritoli picked at his breakfast of cold spiced fish. The first rays of the rising sun slipping through the eastern window of his study did little to cheer the room. Neither he nor Tafiya slept well during the night, disturbed by the revelation of the clue.
"Ola Thinoli chose the Shatter-Eye School to do the mural because, we believe, he wanted sorcery in it, and the White priests are known to be excellent magicians."
"Correct, so far."
"Now, the Church of Truth wants to be sure you don't see the mural, so they stage an attack to warn you to keep away."
"Also correct."
"Could it be that the school has done this out of spite? Because of the criticism you've given them in the past, wouldn't they want to keep you out of this project?"
"I wish that were all, Tafi. But I would expect them to want to gloat over their victory, as Freneza did in the Market. They'd want me to see what sort of garbage ola Thinoli was willing to pay who knows how many levars for. No, I'm afraid there is more to this than spite."
"Well, I can't believe ola Thinoli would do anything sinister, when he himself is part of the Council."
"Can't you? Forgive me if I sound paternalistic, but I have lived in Liavek and dealt with its nobility longer than you. They, and the ola Thinoli family in particular, have not been pleased with the rise of merchants to power on the Council. It would not surprise me in the slightest if Ezvi was being that subtle."
"Oh. I see...subtle."
Aritoli knew she was trying to find ways to deny the more frightening implications of the event. Part of Aritoli fervently hoped she would succeed.
"Very well. But this doesn't go beyond some petty scheme of ola Thinoli's, then."
"Think again, Tafi. If the Church of Truth is involved, they will use the situation to benefit their own ends as well."
Tafiya crossed her arms on the table and set her chin on them with a sigh. "If the Church of Truth has such powerful sorcerers, why do they care if you see the mural? Could they not make a spell to withstand your magic?"
"Now there is a good question. Perhaps they fear only that I will discover the existence of the spell. A better wizard than I then could be found to break it."
"Hm. So what are we to do? Sit here and cower like frightened mice?"
"No. I still intend to look at that mural."
"Ah, spoken like the brave Aritoli! He who slew the high priest of Irhan—"
"Tafi, I am not particularly proud of that incident. If only the idiot had worn the protections I expected.... But never mind. Sometime before the paint is dry on that mural, I will contrive to get a look at it and settle this mystery."
"Ah, you will risk your life to save the Council from whatever surprise the Shatter-Eyes have in mind?"
"No. I will risk my life to see what sort of garbage ola Thinoli has paid who knows how many levars for."
•
At midday there came a clatter of hooves in the courtyard, and in a few moments Maljun entered the study.
"One of your servants, madame, brought this letter for you." He handed Tafi a folded piece of parchment that was sealed with gold-flecked wax.
Tafiya opened it and quickly scanned its contents. Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she handed the letter to Aritoli, saying, "I think you'd better read this."
Aritoli read: "To the Honorable Councilor-Elect Mielo; The First Lord Ezvi ola Thinoli is pleased to announce that those newly appointed councilors of the mercantile estate are invited to a preview of the new Council mural on the morning of the tenth of Fruit."
"That's tomorrow!" said Aritoli. "Could Freneza be finished so soon?"
"Apparently. "
At the bottom of the invitation, Aritoli saw another message scribbled in purple ink: "My dearest Tafi, much as I would have loved to escort you to this showing myself, I fi
nd myself unavoidably detained in Gold Harbor. By the way, on no account should you inform that boor, ola Silba, about the preview. His ill-mannered criticism would ruin the occasion...and you wouldn't want your career to bear such a blot so soon, would you? With deepest affection, Ezvi."
"Deepest affection, eh?"
Tafiya shrugged. "He likes to pretend he's a ladies' man. But what do you make of this sudden showing?"
After a moment, Aritoli said flatly, "Tafi, you mustn't go."
"What? People will talk if I don't attend—they'll doubt my civic pride, or some such."
"Tafi, your very life might be in danger."
"But why would Ezvi or the white-robes want to harm me?"
"It may be nothing personal, Tafi. But it is known you have associated with me. And you are the newest member of the Levar's Council. Perhaps ola Thinoli wishes to prove some point through you. All I know is it may not be safe. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless I get to the mural first. Tonight."
Tafi's eyes glittered. "Excellent, Ari! When shall we go?"
"We? Ah, no, Tafi. I must do this alone. There's no reason to endanger you as well."
"But if the Church of Truth or ola Thinoli wishes me harm, don't I have as much right as you to stop them? Don't I have a duty to protect the Levar's Council? And if you fail, if we fail, won't my career—and perhaps life—suffer from whatever spell is in the mural?"
"Well..."
"And think, you will look less suspicious with me than you would by yourself."
''That is perhaps true, but—"
"And there is the chance that, owing to my status as Councilor-Elect, I can get us a key to the Council Chamber. Now what say you?"
Aritoli sighed. "Oh, very well. If you can get a key."
"Trust me. Now, where do we meet and when?"
•
The Fountain Square clock chimed three as Aritoli and Tafiya crouched behind a pillar by the south door of the Councilors' wing of the Levar's palace. They waited until the steady tread of the Palace guard faded with distance, then they silently approached the door.
Pulling a thin metal rod from her soft leather boot, Tafiya said, "Now, let's see if I remember how to do this." She carefully inserted the rod into the large brass lock and wiggled it up and down.
"What? Tafi, I thought you were going to get a key!"
"The Palace Steward wouldn't give me one since I was not officially in office yet. I didn't want to press the matter. Drat! There's a heavy bolt on the other side of the door. I can't budge it. "
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Aritoli said, "Allow me." He placed the golden raven's head of his cane against the lock. His hands tingled as his magic flowed into his fingers. Concentrating, Aritoli pressed the sorcerous force through the door, imagining it as an extension of his hand. When he felt his magical "fingers" grasp the bolt tightly, he drew the cane along the lock. The bolt moved aside with it, and the lock clicked open.
"Perfect!" whispered Tafiya, slipping through the door after Aritoli. "What wondrous partners in crime we'd make."
"If I ever lose my standing as an advisor, I'll give it thought."
They tiptoed down a long, dark corridor whose far end was dimly illuminated. Aritoli could barely make out the carving in the wood paneling and the silhouettes of picture frames on the wall. At the far end, another hallway branched off to the right.
"The Council Chamber is down that hall," Tafiya whispered.
"Care to peek around the corner and see if it's guarded?"
Tafiya ducked her head quickly into the branching corridor, then snapped it back, wearing an amused smile.
"Well?" asked Aritoli.
"He's huge. And black as night. And cute."
"Let me guess—does he wear a wide belt with a large buckle?"
"How did you know?"
"By the Twin Forces, we're sunk. I know this doorman. He's tougher than most."
"We're still going through with the plan, aren't we?"
"We may as well. Though I suspect when this is over I may have to take up thievery after all." Aritoli took out from under his cloak a bottle of wine, House of iv N'Bero Vintners 3309, and carefully uncorked it. He sipped it and nodded in satisfaction. Then he opened a small packet of sleeping powder which he emptied into the bottle. After shaking the bottle gently, he handed it to Tafiya, saying, "You remember what to do?"
"Yessir! Executing Plan One, sir." Tafiya winked and saluted, then sauntered off down the hall.
'''Executing' is right," muttered Aritoli. He slunk along the wall and peeked around the corner to watch. By the light of a hanging oil lamp, he saw Tafiya approach the doorman and show him the bottle.
"Compliments of the management," she said, smiling, "For your excellent service."
"And are you complimentary, too, little spicetart?"
"Whatever you wish."
The doorman smiled broadly and uncorked the bottle, taking an enormous swig from it. Then, as he reached out for a kiss, his eyes suddenly glazed over and he slumped to the floor.
"It worked!" Tafiya called out to Aritoli. "He's out."
Aritoli frowned as he came forward. "Worked a bit fast, didn't it?"
Tafiya slapped the doorman lightly and he showed no response. "See?"
"I'm amazed. Ah, well. Let us get this business done." He pushed open the chamber door and they ducked inside. Aritoli lit a lamp on the long Council table. With Tafiya's help he rolled up the canvas curtain covering the mural, then stepped back for a long look.
It was an abstract seascape, as far as Aritoli could tell. Wavelike swirls of green and blue, with a blue-gray "sky" above. marched across the mural. The colors seemed pleasing enough. but the whirlpools within the design gave Aritoli a sense of discomfort—something like seasickness, he thought with amusement.
"Seems harmless to me," Tafiya said.
"No, there is something here." Aritoli could feel the slight pressure, the not-yet-ness of a ritual spell nearing completion. He noticed the lower right-hand corner of the mural was not finished. "But we may have time to do something."
Stepping back, he again let power flow from the golden raven's head into his fingers and cast a spell of magic tracing. Glowing light-motes flew from his hand to the mural and immediately formed an outline of a geometrical structure. A structure both simple and complex, implying beauty, completeness—a summation of imperfections that created a perfect whole. Yet, as he studied the unfinished corner, Aritoli had a curious feeling of being on the brink, as if this glorious structure could fall apart at a single brush stroke.
"Like a great shiribi puzzle," murmured Aritoli. "I was wrong, Tafi. The Shatter-Eye School does teach art, but not a sort that is appreciated visually. Within this mural, Freneza has captured a magical representation of...our world. And here," Aritoli pointed to the unfinished corner, "lies the symbolic loop of string, whose movement shall make it all undone."
"I am pleased," said the smooth voice of Sister Vanta, "that you have come to appreciate our ways."
Aritoli turned. She stood in the doorway, flanked by Freneza and the doorman. They each held lanterns that sent glaring light into the room. Sister Vanta bowed to Tafiya. "Welcome, my dear. You are early for the showing, but Ezvi did want you to be among the first to see it."
Tafiya gulped and said nothing.
"I thought painting by lamplight was bad for the eyes, Freneza," said Aritoli. "Why are you here at this hour?"
"I might ask you the same," said the artist. "I've been working late to finish the mural for tomorrow. I was taking a rest when the doorman alerted us to your presence."
Aritoli glanced at the guard.
The doorman smiled. "A valiant attempt, Master ola Silba, but drugged wine is an old trick. It was no trouble for me to feign sleep, then slip away to warn the others."
Aritoli covered his face in weariness and embarrassment. Then he noticed, between his fingers, Tafiya edging along the wall as if terrified. Perhaps i
f I distract them. she at least can get away.
He looked up at the artist. "I must say, Freneza, that I am impressed with your work. You have tremendous talent. A pity you lent it to such a dubious tutor."
"This dubious tutor has made the expression of my talent possible by revealing to me the truth. Now if you will step aside..."
"Certainly," smiled Aritoli, "we were just leaving." He started toward the door, but the priest blocked his way.
"Oh, no," said Sister Vanta, "you must stay and see the finishing of the work, that you may truly understand it. Guard, please make the advisor comfortable. Give him a front-row seat."
The doorman grinned and offered Aritoli a chair. Aritoli grinned back and made a break for the open door.
The doorman grabbed his arm, saying, "Now, sir, it's impolite to ignore the lady's invitation. I'll just take this so you won't lose it." He pulled the cane out of the advisor's hand and set it on the Council table, out of Aritoli's reach.
Suddenly. quick as a flicker of lightning, Tafiya grabbed the walking stick. She dashed out the door, skirts flying.
"Stop her!" cried Sister Vanta. The doorman frowned and lumbered down the hall after Tafiya.
Aritoli tried to follow, but Sister Vanta gestured and his gaze snapped back to the painting. He found his attention captured by the design, unable to move. Hands grasped his shoulders and he felt himself guided into a chair. An egg-shaped object appeared in the priest's hand and she used it to bind him to the chair with magical force.
"You are afraid." Sister Vanta said softly, "yet there is no need to be. You will feel no pain. In fact you will scarcely feel anything. But your mind will become ours." She turned away and bent to advise Freneza, who was filling in the unpainted corner.
As the artist worked, Aritoli felt the spell near its completion. The thought that a sorcerous pattern of such beauty was going to collapse almost brought tears to his eyes. Filled with trepidation and sorrow, he waited helplessly.
At last Freneza finished and stood back from his work. Aritoli felt more than saw the priest watching him. She was right—there was no sudden pain or swift change of mood. For a moment, Aritoli wondered if her spell had failed.
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