One Hundredth Magic

by Jeffrey Turner

  Throughout the ride to the ratter's home, Adriana threw sharp glances in the Huntsman's direction, as if she could sense the direction of his thoughts. He stared straight ahead and tried to act as though he weren't recollecting the magnetic energy emanating from Kandys's poised body nor the hunted yet capable expression he'd read in her face.

  Adriana's elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and he realized the rickshaw had come to a stop. “We're here. Quit thinking about my sister."

  “No, I was just, I mean, what makes you—"

  “She has that effect on some people,” Adriana said.

  Alexander sighed and followed her into the building. The bottom floor was taken up by a butcher shop and a furniture maker. A narrow stairway between the two led to a block of apartments. Adriana checked the numbers and pounded on one door with enough force to make Alexander wince. It opened quickly, revealing a man so small that Alexander mistook him at first for a dwarf. He was human, however, and he let them into the apartment's sitting room while twisting his hands nervously into the front of his shirt.

  The ratter's eyes darted all about the room, never quite settling on his guests, and sweat streamed down his bald head despite the cool breeze from the window. The sitting room was sparsely furnished, but it was clean and comfortable. A bookcase covered one wall. It held no books; the shelves were covered with wooden carvings of birds and animals.

  “The guild master said to be expecting you,” said the ratter. “I'm sorry I wasn't here yesterday, Your Lordship, I was—"

  “You may address me,” said Adriana, apparently still venting her anger from the encounter with Kandys. “I'm Counselor Thornwell, special advisor to His Righteousness. Are you Ferd Tagges, the ratter who works the eighth district of the northwest quarter?"

  At this, the ratter nearly burst into tears. “I've only done it twice, maybe three times, Your Ladyship,” he wailed, ignoring Adriana's question. “I got rolled and beat on the way back from collecting the week's pay, see, and I din't have no money for food for the week—"

  “Two or three times?” asked Adriana. She looked at Alexander, who shrugged and shook his head slightly.

  “Just ‘nough that I could eat, Ladyship, I din't think it'd do no one no harm or nothin'."

  “Ratter,” said Adriana, “what the blazes are you babbling about?"

  Ferd caught his breath and blinked at Adriana. “You ain't here ‘bout the butcher?"

  Adriana's brow wrinkled. “The butcher?"

  Ferd pointed at the floor and glanced toward his ratting stick and bag, which lay on the floor near the door. Alexander broke into a laugh, while Adriana's expression turned to a mixture of understanding and horror.

  Ferd resumed his babbling: “It was only the two times, maybe three or four, Your Ladyship. We're supposed to burn ’em, see, but—"

  “Oh, for the sake of the gods, shut up!” Ferd's mouth clamped shut and Adriana turned her glare to Alexander. “You, too."

  “Sorry,” he gasped, struggling to control himself.

  “We're not here about your business with the butcher,” Adriana said. “Do you work the eighth district or not?"

  “Eighth district, ev'ry night the past year, yes, Your Ladyship, that's me."

  “Do you remember anything unusual happening on the sixth day of Lunnis?"

  The ratter stared at her blankly.

  “The night the bard was killed,” said Alexander.

  Ferd gasped. “Gods, yes, I'll never forget that night!” he said. “Biggest damned rat I seen in me whole professional career. Like to be a cat, I thought at first; then I saw the tail. Nothing gots a tail like a rat, see, ‘cept maybe a possum, and I suppose if we seen one o’ them we'd take it just like a rat, but—"

  “Ferd,” said Adriana through gritted teeth, “do you remember anything more significant than a big rat?"

  “Well, yeah.” The ratter looked at Alexander as if to ask why the Huntsman traveled with such a simple-minded companion. “I saw the bard get ‘imself killed, you know."

  Adriana leaped to her feet and Ferd cringed back into his chair. Alexander fought to control his excitement—he'd thought this meeting to be a last-ditch effort for a lead, but it was turning out to be far more profitable than he'd expected.

  “You saw the murder?” Adriana asked. Ferd nodded. “Why didn't you tell anyone before?"

  Ferd snorted. “I din't want anyone to think I done it. I ain't stupid, Your Ladyship."

  “Ferd,” said Alexander, “we'd be greatly indebted to you if you'd tell us everything you remember.” The ratter glanced nervously at the floor. “The incidents with the butcher will be totally forgotten."

  Still, Ferd hesitated. He rubbed his hands up and down compulsively on the legs of his trousers. “I don't want no one to know it was me that told. There's wizardry involved, you know, and I got no business with wizards, ‘cept the ‘pothecary every now an’ again."

  “We'll forget your name the minute we leave here,” said Adriana. “I'd rather you talk with us than Nikkolynda anyway."

  Alexander shot her a disapproving look, but the counselor's ploy had the desired effect. Ferd paled and began speaking faster than ever. “It was cool that night, and I was ‘most done with my route, and then I saw this biggest rat I ever seen go runnin’ into the alley. So I follow it in, but I tripped over somethin’ and ended up in the trash heap, you know, behind the tavern. Before I know what's what, I hear singin’ and this bard comes a-reelin’ in after me. I lay real still, ‘cause I din't wanna get rolled by some drunk, and next thing I know, this ... this monster come a-stompin’ into the alley after ‘im."

  “Monster?” said Adriana.

  Ferd nodded fervently. “Monster it was. Like a man, but big. Maybe seven, eight feet tall. With big claws, like on a tiger or somethin'."

  “A seven-foot man,” said Alexander. “Was it a Burning Man?"

  “One o’ them desert devils? No, weren't one o’ them. I seen them before—this thing, it had gray skin, maybe white. The ground shook when it walked."

  “Shook how?” asked Adriana. She looked at Alexander and shook her head slightly.

  “Like a giant was passin',” Ferd said. “Like he was heavy. Real heavy. Then he tore inna that bard, and that man din't stand a chance. Tore ‘im apart with those claws like you wouldn't believe. Done before the poor man knew what hit ‘im."

  “And you ran before the creature could catch you?” Alexander asked.

  “Gods, no. I like to've froze right there in that trash heap. I thought my time'd come on account o’ chasing a big rat, but that monster just disappeared into nothin'. I thanked the gods right there an’ got the hell away. Next day the criers were talkin’ ‘bout the bard, an’ I knew that's who I seen gettin’ killed."

  “It disappeared?” said Adriana. “How?"

  “Just poof, an’ it's gone,” said Ferd. “I couldn't see for a minute, ‘cause the whole alley was full o’ dust. Like someone threw a bucket o’ sand off the roof or somethin'. Got in my eyes, an’ I thought the monster was gonna finish me half-blind. Then I could see again, an’ the monster's gone."

  “All right,” said Adriana. “I think that's all we need. We appreciate your help, Ferd."

  “No one's gonna know who told you, right?” Ferd asked as Alexander stood.

  “Not a soul,” said Adriana. Alexander followed her out of the ratter's apartment and listened to the bolt snap into place behind them.

  Downstairs, the rickshaw driver waited in the street. The butcher was standing in the doorway of his shop, wiping a knife on his bloodstained apron. He glanced at the sky as the pair stepped off the staircase.

  “Noon meal's upon us,” called the butcher. “Would the gentleman and lady care to sample some of Hurst's finest meats?"

  Adriana looked at the shop and grimaced.

  “I don't think we're hungry,” said Alexander.

  * * * * *

  Nikkolynda ushered the last of the gnome crew out of his chambers and sealed the
door with a gesture and a few mumbled words. The gnomes, working nervously under the scrutiny of the wizard, had thrown together a bed, shelves and dresser in an unused corner of Nikkolynda's private room. The wizard planned on moving Adam into the keep with him shortly; with the previous night's events at the Theater of Giants, Nikkolynda expected to be quite busy in the coming weeks. Though the prospect of having another person in such close proximity while he worked his magic made the wizard cringe, he'd decided the boy would be useful to have close at hand. Adam at least understood the virtue of silence. With a little luck, he may even turn into a worthwhile apprentice.

  Nikkolynda shook his head. “You're starting to think like the old man you pretend to be,” he said out loud. From its ledge next to the window, the frog grinned and bounced up and down.

  The table in the center of the workroom had been cleared of everything save a brass bowl, which was filled to the brim with water. Nikkolynda glanced at it as he strode to the window. Because his tower was situated on the northern wall of the keep, he couldn't see the Theater of Giants to the south of Shipman's Plaza. He made a note to remedy that problem soon, realizing as he did that such a view would also force him to look at the Temple District and the idiot priests who dwelt there. Once, in a fit of irritation over requests from the temples, the Emperor had suggested relocating the priests to live with the beggars of Rottown. Nikkolynda chuckled at the memory. The frog chirruped at him and flicked its tongue toward the table.

  “All right, already,” said Nikkolynda. “I don't see you over there scrying."

  The wizard snapped his fingers and the window darkened instantly, as if opaque shutters had been slammed into place. Sconces in opposing positions on the walls flared to life. The surface of the water reflected the flickering torches as Nikkolynda approached. After a final look at the frog, the wizard placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward slightly. He gazed into the bowl; a verse of arcane words streamed from his lips. Though he only whispered, the sound echoed from the walls of the room and gained in volume. In the space of a minute the workroom had become a chorus of Nikkolynda's incantation. A dozen instances of his voice surrounded him. His pupils shrank almost to nonexistence.

  Outside the bowl, on the edges of Nikkolynda's vision, the room swirled into a chaotic nightmare of objects. The concept of direction ceased to exist for the wizard; the darkened window appeared to shift between all four walls while the frog floated in mid-air, separated from the shelf to which he was chained. Books flew about him, trailing their pages like the tails of oddly shaped comets. One of the torches had tumbled beneath Nikkolynda's feet, through the floor, though its flame burned bright somewhere to his left. Nikkolynda closed his eyes.

  The wizard moved on to the next verse and the unnatural display ground to a halt. The objects flying about the room froze in place, many distorted and twisted out of shape. An exhilarating rush of energy surged through Nikkolynda's body as time joined its neighboring dimensions, flattening out before him like a portrait. Ghosts of the Prime Wizard filled the workroom, but Nikkolynda ignored them. He pictured the Theater of Giants in his mind, concentrating on the box in which Alexander and Adriana had sat the night before. His consciousness hurtled briefly through the bizarre tableau of a distorted city, then settled above the twisted body of the counselor. Her contortions were even more horrific under the double effect of the attack and Nikkolynda's spell, but the wizard didn't notice. His attention was consumed by an overwhelming blaze of arcane energy. It felt as though he'd stepped into a bonfire.

  Back in the workroom, Nikkolynda's eyes flew open. He focused on the smooth surface of the water and cried out a command. The bowl expanded instantly and the water began to turn, spinning into a vast whirlpool. Drawing a deep breath, Nikkolynda plunged forward.

  The chill nearly shocked him out of his deep concentration. He was no sooner surrounded by water than he shot out of it, breaking through and clearing the surface of the lake by ten feet. By the time he landed the water had frozen over and his feet hit solid ice. The lake extended endlessly in all directions around him, unbroken blue mirrored by a slightly darker sky. The only disruption in the infinite world of ice was a black-robed figure standing thirty yards or so from the Prime Wizard.

  “Neat trick,” said Malthus. “I didn't think you had it in you, wizard."

  Nikkolynda whispered a short phrase and fanned the fingers on both his hands. A cloak of flame burst from his hands to envelop his body. The fire extinguished itself almost instantly, leaving the wizard's robes dry.

  “I'd have settled for finding your hiding place, worm, but I'm just as happy to dispose of you today."

  Malthus laughed. “Such confidence, and from a man who didn't know I existed until last night. Not very attentive of the Prime Wizard, eh, Nikkolynda?"

  “You have me at a loss,” Nikkolynda said. “You haven't named yourself."

  The wizard clapped his hands together and a gust of wind blasted across the ice. It ripped the hood from Malthus's head, revealing his grinning face. Nikkolynda's eyes locked on the pointed ears.

  “A Weirdling.” The wizard turned his head and spat. “Fitting abomination for a warlock. Were you disappointed to find that even your elven blood couldn't unlock the Sandlanders’ grimoire?"

  To Nikkolynda's surprise, Malthus merely laughed. “Your singular nature has left you too narrow-minded, wizard. But fear not! I'm going to give you plenty of time to reflect on your folly."

  Nikkolynda raised his arms in a defensive gesture as Malthus's hand came up. A ball of green glass rested on the warlock's palm. From it issued a noxious cloud of pale smoke, which rolled toward Nikkolynda. The wizard uncrossed his arms, flinging them wide as he shouted a word of command. The cloud scattered before another wall of air. Through the dissipating streamers he saw Malthus cock his arm back to throw the ball. It landed at Nikkolynda's feet just as the wizard finished another incantation, and the resultant explosion tossed him backward. He landed on his back twenty feet from his former position, stunned momentarily by the force of the blow.

  Malthus flew forward with phenomenal speed, somehow finding no lack of traction on the smooth ice. His hands were above his head and he shouted words unfamiliar even to Nikkolynda. In desperation the wizard snapped his wrist. A small dart appeared from inside his sleeve. It left a flaming trail in its wake as it cut through the air toward the warlock and was followed quickly by two others. Malthus abandoned his spell and dodged to the side. His cloak billowed out as he spun, catching all three of the tiny weapons in the thick fabric. The darts burst into fire and ignited the garment, but a few words from Malthus quenched the flames. When he turned back to Nikkolynda, the wizard was on his feet and pulling something from one of his pouches.

  It was an eyeball, of either a man or dwarf. When Nikkolynda released it the eye streaked forward, stopping to hover in place just inches from Malthus's face. The disembodied orb locked gazes with the warlock. Malthus's limbs grew inordinately heavy; he lacked the strength to even turn his head away. His tongue rolled uselessly in his mouth when he tried to speak. Nikkolynda saw the warlock swallow hard as the wizard started forward.

  Then, incredibly, Malthus's arms rose. His fingers danced in lightning-fast patterns that would have amazed the finest musicians in the Western Realm. A great roar arose from either side of Nikkolynda, who halted immediately and spun. Two forms were struggling to pull themselves from the ice. They melted into man-like shapes as they stood, both reaching for the wizard with thick, frozen hands. Nikkolynda chanted and punched a fist toward one, sending a mote of luminescence into the elemental's chest. The creature exploded and showered the Prime Wizard with chunks of ice. Nikkolynda turned to the other and repeated the process, but in doing so, lost his hold on Malthus. The floating eye dropped lifelessly to the ice as the second elemental detonated.

  Warlock and wizard glared at one another across the surface of the lake. “You're stronger than I thought,” said Malthus, “but it won't save yo
u."

  “Your power is diluted by your half-breed blood,” answered Nikkolynda. “A half-man can never master the arcane."

  Malthus's face burned an angry red. “You're fortunate, wizard. My tasks for the morrow demand that I conserve my energy. You may look forward to acknowledging my power on another day."

  The warlock reached into a pouch and Nikkolynda drew back, prepared to cast another shielding spell. Malthus tossed a handful of black powder into the air beside him. It swirled into a roiling cloud slightly larger than the warlock. Belatedly, Nikkolynda realized this new spell was an escape rather than an attack. He began to chant but Malthus stepped into the cloud with contemptuous deliberation. He took one last cold look at Nikkolynda then disappeared entirely. When the warlock was gone, the cloud reverted to its powder form and fell from the air. Hissing smoke appeared wherever the dark granules touched the ice.

  Nikkolynda waited for a moment, but the warlock was truly gone. Exhaustion swept through his body abruptly; the brief combat had drained too much power too quickly. Chanting quickly, the wizard melted a small portion of the ice to reveal the water beneath. As he plunged into the water he wondered about the tasks to which the warlock had referred.

  The frog croaked happily as Nikkolynda reappeared in the workroom. His senses returned to normal as he staggered away from the table. Sunlight streamed through the window, reflecting onto the ceiling from the inside of the empty brass bowl. Leaning heavily on the shelves, Nikkolynda made his way to the bedchamber and collapsed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The grass crunched softly under the warlock's tread, still moist with lingering dew despite the warmth of the morning sun. The canopy of leaves overhead blocked a good portion of the light and somehow trapped cool eddies blowing off the surface of Lake Farnighan.

  The Southern Highway had brought Malthus south of Hurst in the pre-dawn hours, and the small clearing he now surveyed lay only a few miles from the road. He smiled as he thought of Nikkolynda trying vainly to re-locate him back in the city. Allowing the wizard to find him through the time-bending spell had been a stroke of genius; the brief encounter on the plain of ice provided Malthus with an excellent appraisal of the wizard's skill. When the time came, he promised himself, the Prime Wizard would meet with a fate that only one of his power could truly appreciate.