Kalnai cocked his head. “Someone approaches, probably the Emperor's men."
Mezzino stood and smoothed his black robe. His feyrhakin followed suit, Kalnai tucking the dagger into his belt.
“Shinvai,” said Mezzino, “accompany Teriya. The rest of us will explore the city and see what more we learn. We regroup here at the fifteenth hour.” Someone knocked at the door. “Remember,” he added, “we show nothing but peace."
“Of course, Fandyiha,” said Teriya, and opened the door.
CHAPTER THREE
“What the blazes could have done this?” said Alexander.
They stood outside a house constructed of sturdy split logs, one of a ring of such structures. The sun shone directly overhead, glittering through a canopy of leaves. A few women conversed in low voices nearby, glancing nervously between the pair and the children darting amongst the nearest trees. Alexander and Adriana had passed most of the village men in the fields outside the farm.
The ride from Hurst had taken a little less than an hour, mostly on packed-dirt roads. They'd kept a fairly fast pace, led by Adriana. Alexander guessed that the Emperor's counselor wanted to test the Addamantian's skills. He also guessed he'd passed favorably, as she offered no critique.
“Nothing I've ever seen,” Adriana answered.
The wall before Alexander looked as though a mad lumberman had tried to hack a new entrance to the home. Except that no lumberman could have caused the devastation here. Chunks of wood were scattered throughout the interior of the cabin. The jagged ends of exposed logs lined the hole in the wall, which was wide enough for Alexander to step through without touching either side. Raising his arm, he found that the top of the hole was out of his reach. He entered the house and sniffed. The air was stale, except for a faint, metallic scent. Dark stains covered the interior walls and floor. A broken table lay in pieces next to an overturned chair.
“The other villagers refuse to touch the house,” said Adriana. She stood in the unnatural entrance for a moment. The bright sun cast an eerie aura around her edges of her body. “They're afraid disturbing the scene will bring back the killer. According to the neighbors, the entire attack took only minutes. You can see why they'd think it was a demon."
“I see two deaths in here,” Alexander said. He pointed to two large splashes of crusted blood, one beside the hearth, the other close to the destroyed wall. He pushed open the door next to the chimney and glanced into the second room, then quickly ducked back into the main room. “A third in there. Who lived here?"
“A farmer, his wife, and their child.” Adriana strode into the room and nudged the table with the toe of her boot.
“It killed a child?"
“No,” said a low voice. “The child was at a neighbor's for the evening."
Alexander and Adriana turned to find a dwarf stepping through the shattered structure. He paused momentarily to examine the soft wood exposed in the center of the logs. A thick, black beard and mustache dominated his face. His wide, flat nose wrinkled in distaste as he reached up to feel the splintered end of a log. The dwarf wore leather breeches and boots, but his powerful upper body was exposed to the warm air. A wide-brimmed hat was perched atop black hair, which was pulled into two braids in the back.
“The third victim was my uncle, Ervin Harkannian. Whatever killed these people followed my uncle here, then slaughtered the lot of them."
Adriana introduced herself and Alexander. The top of the dwarf's head was just short of Alexander's chest, but the diminutive man's grip was iron. A large hammer with a flat, square head dangled from belt.
“I'm Gerder Fromark,” he said. “My uncle was assisting in the metal exploration on Selmer Ridge. Apparently he survived the initial attack and made his way here. He and the farmer tried to—"
“Selmer Ridge?” said Adriana.
“You didn't know? The men up there are as dead as these three."
Alexander looked at her.
“I had no idea,” said the Emperor's counselor. “How could nobody—"
“Were you here?” Alexander asked Gerder.
“Do ya not see me standing before ya? If that bunch up on the ridge couldn't kill this monster, my hammer wouldn't've turned the fight.
“I was on my way to join my uncle's crew—he'd sent word they needed a metal smith. I'd say I reached Selmer Ridge within a day of the killings. My uncle's body weren't among those in the work house but I found his track through the wood. He'd been wounded and left a trail a blind babe could follow. Looks like he made it this far and made a stand with the farmer. They weren't much of a match for whatever the hell came through here."
“You didn't report this?” Adriana demanded.
“Report it?” said Gerder. “To who? I've seen no one in this land but the farm folk, and they're well aware that two of their number are dead. I could walk to Hurst, I suppose, but how do I know who cares about dead men in the mountains?"
“So, why are you still in the village?” Adriana asked.
“Family obligation,” said Gerder. “The boy's now an orphan and Ervin was partly to blame. I've set up shop here, and I'll take care of the boy ’til he's old enough to look after himself."
“I've got to get to Selmer Ridge,” Adriana said.
“How far is it?” Alexander asked.
“Took me an hour afoot, but that was looking for trail signs.” Gerder's eyes strayed to the floor behind the table. “On your horses, I'd say half that time."
“I haven't been there,” said Adriana. “Will you guide us?"
“Perhaps. Think ya could tell me what your interest is?"
Adriana flushed angrily, and Alexander hurried to speak before she could. “The lady is a counselor to the Emperor,” he said. “We're trying to find the, well, thing that did this."
The dwarf studied them for a moment. “Not much of an answer, but I suppose it don't matter. Let me find someone to watch the boy, and I'll take ya up there.” His gaze returned to the floor.
“What is it?” asked Alexander.
“That stone,” Gerder said. He stepped past them and knelt next to a pile of loose rock. The few handfuls had been exposed when Adriana moved the table. “It's odd to see that here."
“Why's that?"
“It's not found anywhere ‘round here.” The dwarf picked up some of the crumbled bits and rubbed them between his palms.
“You're sure?” asked Adriana.
Gerder gave her a disgusted look.
“I'll get the horses,” said Alexander.
* * * * *
Nikkolynda stalked back and forth before the great window set in the third story of the keep's eastern wall. The long banners lining the wall of the conference room fluttered in the breeze. A massive table, long enough to seat twenty men comfortably, was precisely centered on the stone floor. Niches lined the walls behind the chairs. When the chamber was filled for official use, servants or scribes stood unobtrusively in the spaces, awaiting a gesture from their seated masters. Small passageways led off to the north and south, one to a large kitchen. Double doors of solid oak dominated the wall directly across from the window. The frames were painstakingly carved with the snarling lion insignia of Emperor Theodoric the First. If Prince Fenric could have his way, the wizard thought wryly, those lions would be sanded away and replaced with the prince's grinning wolves. As if the thought had summoned the man, the doors swung open and Fenric strode into the room.
The Emperor's older son wore tunic and pants of resplendent purple trimmed with gold and black. He was a tall man of just past thirty years, slender but displaying the well-toned muscles of a runner beneath the tight sleeves and pants. Blond hair beneath a thin coronet framed the prince's angular face. His dark eyes gazed down the tip of a sharp nose as if he were sighting a nocked arrow.
Though his clothing was devoid of regalia, a shining nose ring displayed the charges of a soldier honored on the battlefield. Nikkolynda knew the awards weren't the product of a nobleman's vanity. Fenric w
as too young to have fought in the Elven Exodus, but he'd proven his bravery many times during the last scrymger infestation. When the distant relatives of the gnomes launched a surprising siege against the eastern farmlands, Fenric had personally led the retaliatory strike. Though outnumbered by as many as ten to one, the superior tactics and sheer fearlessness of the prince and his men had driven the invaders deep into the mountains. In the intervening years, not a single scrymger had been spotted within miles of Hurst.
“Thank you for joining us, Nikkolynda,” said Fenric. He unclipped a few small buckles and tossed his heavy broadsword atop the table. He dropped into one of the chairs, leaned back and crossed his ankles over the scabbard. The Prime Wizard stood where he was on the opposite side of the table.
“At your pleasure, Your Highness,” Nikkolynda said. “If I may, who is the ‘us’ to whom you refer?” The wizard kept his voice carefully neutral. His opposition to Fenric's concept of “economic policy” was well known, but Nikkolynda guessed that the abrupt meeting concerned a different topic. His question was partly answered with the arrival of Harri Domerrit. The majordomo reminded Nikkolynda of his pet frog, and he had to feign an old man's cough to choke off a bout of laughter. Domerrit glanced at the wizard, then bowed to Fenric.
“Aldus Alton and Shirer zal-Tan are being brought now, Highness,” said Domerrit.
Fenric waved a hand toward Nikkolynda. “Our complete guest list."
“Thank you, Your Highness."
The prince's face held an expectant look. He wanted Nikkolynda to ask the purpose of the meeting, so the wizard remained silent. Fenric shrugged and turned his gaze toward the door.
A figure in flowing red robes appeared. His hands were hidden inside flaring sleeves. In fact, the only part of his body not obscured by the robe was his head. Pale, dead-looking flesh surrounded puffy lips and drooping cheeks. A gold-rimmed monocle was pinched to one eye. From the monocle a thin chain ran to a clip on Aldus Alton's ear. His bald scalp glistened with sweat, which also darkened the underarms of his robe. This unkempt man, however, was the Grand Mage of the Magician's Guild. Both his political power and his arcane abilities were considerable.
Following Alton was Shirer zal-Tan, a dwarf and current Spokesman of the Apothecary's Guild. The white skullcap of his profession perched atop steel-gray hair, which fell in tiny braids over his ears. A dozen pouches dangled from the dwarf's belt. He was dressed in a bit more common fashion than his magician companion, trousers and tunic instead of robes. Shirer's boots roused Nikkolynda's curiosity; the toes were pointed and curled back over the top of the foot. The wizard guessed the apothecary to be young by dwarven standards, perhaps forty or fifty years.
Domerrit signaled for the guards in the hallway to pull the doors closed. “Gentlemen,” said the majordomo, “His Highness has assembled here the leaders of the three organized users of magic in Hurst, the Imperial wizards, the Magician's Guild, and—"
“The master of the obvious,” said Nikkolynda. “We're all familiar with one another, Domerrit, perhaps you could get to the point?"
Domerrit flushed while Shirer chuckled at the brusque old wizard and sat down. Aldus Alton remained standing, blinking rapidly behind his monocle.
“My friends,” said Fenric, “your Emperor has been approached with a very sensitive diplomatic issue. We'd like to ask your help in resolving it."
“Whatever His Righteousness requires,” said Alton. Nikkolynda rolled his eyes.
“Yes, of course.” Fenric smiled at each of them in turn.
Domerrit cleared his throat. “A delegation from a Sandlander crag arrived yesterday. This is a true diplomatic coalition, not a trading caravan. They are accompanied by one hundred soldiers and a supply train."
Strange, thought Nikkolynda, the majordomo limits his gaze to Alton and Shirer. Is he afraid to look at me?
“Two months ago, someone stole a valuable relic from the Sandlanders’ clan. The thief took advantage of a lapse of guard during one of their religious days. He traveled under cover of a trade caravan. The trade master has already been questioned. Unfortunately, the drivers and laborers for these caravans change with every trip. The trade master cannot lead us to every man who took part.
“The Sandlanders are very distraught over their loss. Apparently, this book is very important to them, part of their clan's heritage or some such thing."
Nikkolynda caught his breath. “A book? Surely not their clan's grimoire?"
“Um, well, yes,” said the majordomo. He glanced at Nikkolynda, then turned away again quickly. “I believe that's what they called it."
“You believe that's what they called it?” Nikkolynda put both hands on the table and leaned forward. “Blood and fire, man, is it their grimoire or not? If it is, we're lucky there aren't thousands of Burning Men marching through the pass right now! Have you any idea the value of such a relic?"
“I'm sure we'd have heard by now if the Sandlanders were staging an all-out assault,” said Fenric. “They realize the culprit is just some scum cowering in the safety of Hurst's shadow. They've simply asked our help recovering their property."
Nikkolynda leaned back, reminding himself that his guise was that of an ancient, one unlikely to spring across the table and throttle a useless majordomo.
“Your Highness,” said Alton Aldus, “I assure you, the Guild would never—"
“Please,” Fenric interrupted, “The honor of the Magician's Guild is unimpeachable. His Righteousness requests your assistance, not your alibi."
“If the thief indeed returned to Hurst, we feel he may try to sell this book to a member of your guilds,” said Domerrit.
“Or has tried already,” Fenric said.
Shirer nodded. “Your Highness wishes us to question our members, find out if the thief has contacted them."
The prince waved dismissively. “His Righteousness wishes it, if time can be made for the task."
“It will be done immediately, Highness,” said Alton. Beside him, Shirer nodded again.
Fenric turned to Nikkolynda. “Obviously, even a complete dullard would know better than to sell stolen items to an Imperial wizard. All the same, we'd like you to inquire."
“Of course, Your Highness."
Prince Fenric swung his feet to the floor and sat straight in his chair. Harri Domerrit was already turning to the door when Nikkolynda took a seat next to Shirer.
“Your Highness,” said the Prime Wizard, “I find it hard to believe this was a random act of thievery."
Fenric, halfway out of his chair, stopped and looked at the wizard. The majordomo was nearly to the door before he realized that the meeting hadn't ended.
“How so?” asked Fenric. Shirer looked at Nikkolynda with obvious interest.
“The grimoire is doubtless the most sacred object of any Sandlander clan,” Nikkolynda said. “Besides serving as a history of their people, the grimoire is the repository of their arcane lore. The thaumaluk record their most powerful knowledge in these books, and they're guarded more closely than the Emperor's treasury. This is not something that a thief would randomly stumble upon."
“It sounds as though you revere these books as much as they,” said Fenric. He smiled across the table and straightened, then retrieved his sword. “I take it these items are extremely valuable?"
“Undoubtedly, Your Highness."
“Then our thief is well-informed. He knows what will bring a high price and works accordingly."
“I think it more likely that the thief was hired and sent to the desert, Your Highness. This is a risky venture without assurance of a payoff. Also, the information necessary to accomplish such a theft is not easily obtained. The Sandlanders only permit traders in the outer chambers of their crags."
Aldus Alton nodded so vigorously his monocle popped loose. It dangled at the end of its chain as he spoke. “The Prime Wizard makes sense, Your Highness. The Burning Men guard their magic zealously from Western magicians."
Fenric shrugged. “
In that case,” he said, “your assistance is even more crucial. If this theft was sponsored by one of your people, severe action will be necessary.” He finished buckling the scabbard to his belt and tapped the hilt of the sword unconsciously. As he no doubt intended, Alton's gaze was drawn to the gesture.
“Your Highness,” said the magician, “the Guild—"
“Could never summon the backbone for such a crime,” said Nikkolynda. “Still, one of your members may have grown a spine when you weren't paying attention. I'd suggest you interview them one at a time, Aldus. Use your superior perception to test their veracity.” Alton's head bobbed up and down, while his expression alternated between gratitude and puzzlement.
“If you need assistance, please feel free to call on Nikkolynda,” Fenric added. “He is an extraordinary administrator."
“Yes, feel free,” said Nikkolynda dryly. “As His Highness wishes."
Fenric clapped his hands together and tossed his head, throwing his hair back from his face. “Well, then, gentlemen, your time and cooperation are greatly appreciated. My father and I hope the Sandlanders’ claim proves false."
“As do we, Your Highness,” said Shirer. The dwarf stood, bowing in unison with Alton. They turned and followed Harri Domerrit from the room. The majordomo's quick steps echoed down the hall behind him.
“So, what do you say, Nikkolynda?” The prince pushed his chair back under the table. He looked across the room, shaking his head at the seat left out of place by Shirer. He rounded the end of the table as Nikkolynda climbed to his feet.
“I say this is no simple matter,” said the wizard.
“Agreed.” Fenric returned the stray chair neatly to its place. He offered his arm to the stooped wizard, but Nikkolynda shook his head.
“I've meant to ask,” Fenric said as they walked toward the door, “can we not convince you to move out of that horrible tower? Surely you must be lonely, shut away in there for days at a time. The Emperor's Prime Wizard deserves far more luxurious accommodations than that, and the drafts there can't be good for an old man's health. No offense, of course."
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