One Hundredth Magic

by Jeffrey Turner

  * * * * *

  “Hell's hammer,” said Stamovan. “I didn't think he could do it."

  The dwarf sat on a tall stool inside a darkened mess hall, a bottle of mead in one hand. Even his preternatural eyes strained to follow the progress of the shadow on the wall of Nikkolynda's tower. Beside him, Soto chuckled.

  “The feyrhakin may be an idiot, but he's not inept,” said the Sandlander. “He's using pulvah, sand treated by a thaumaluk. It's very expensive, but I guessed that a war party this size would be carrying some."

  “He'd better not have somethin’ else up his sleeve to kill that damned wizard. If His Righteous Pain In The Ass finds out a Sandlander killed Nikkolynda, you'll have your war with the desert a lot sooner ‘an you thought."

  Soto gave a loud snort. “If that runt kills your Prime Wizard, I'll give you half the crags in my realm. Once it's mine."

  “No, thanks,” said Stamovan. “Last thing I want is to rule some blasted desert."

  “It's the only thing I want,” said Soto.

  * * * * *

  A loud pop sounded nearby and Teriya ceased moving completely. His fingers were buried to their bottom joints. Lowering his chin slightly, he caught sight of a dark figure wheeling above the yard. One of the flyers had dipped above the barracks and banked. Teriya thanked his clan's gods that the man hadn't made this circuit half an hour earlier. He watched with fascination as the flyer banked again and flapped his wing, disappearing into the sky.

  A good portion of the wall had melted away from Teriya's hands by the time he resumed his climb. It made for a good foothold, though he was sure that the blemish in the face of the wall would be easily noticeable in daylight. By then, hopefully, Teriya would have returned triumphantly to Mezzino and their company would be well on their way home. The thought gave him extra strength, and he picked up the pace a bit, eager to end the climb and brace the wizard.

  In short time he was clinging to the tower nearly four stories above the ground. The window to his right blazed with illumination. Teriya crept sideways until he was situated right next to the opening. It offered more than enough space to admit a Sandlander body; evidently the Prime Wizard had never considered an attack possible at this height. Teriya grinned, then reminded himself that despite his quarry's lack of foresight, the wizard wasn't an incapable opponent. He decided the best course of action was to maximize the element of surprise. With one strong pull, Teriya swung himself through the open window.

  He hit the floor with a grace that belied his stature and rolled to his feet. The scimitar was in his hand instantly, poised before him as Teriya pivoted quickly. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the small room. There were no doors. No furniture. Only ten feet by ten feet, the chamber was completely empty.

  Or not quite. Next to the window a small shelf protruded from the wall. On the shelf sat a flower pot, made of red clay and filled to the brim with dirt. A single stalk protruded from the dirt, rising a foot or so with two leaves that waved slightly in the breeze. Bright yellow petals ringed the blossom, which bowed toward the window as if reaching for the vanished sunlight. As Teriya straightened, the stalk swung around so that the flower was pointed directly at him. In the center of the blossom was a glistening eye.

  * * * * *

  Stamovan and Soto watched Teriya disappear through the window. “Guess you can keep your desert,” the dwarf said. “Though I'd sell my firstborn for some of that pulvah. After Fenric's little war's over and I'm runnin’ the show in the Stronghold, we'll have to—"

  A scream rent the night air. Flames shot from Nikkolynda's window for a split second, then all light vanished from the tower. Stamovan blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes of the little white spots dancing before him.

  “I'd say Clan Vysthuk is short one feyrhakin,” said Soto. He pressed his sleeve over his own eyes. From the surrounding barracks shouts were beginning to arise. Flyers appeared near the roof of the keep, but no one appeared to know the source of the alarm. Torches flared to life as half-dressed men and dwarves clutched swords and spears. They milled about uncertainly until the night officers arrived.

  “Guess we should join the search patrols,” said Stamovan, “before we're discovered here.” He tossed his bottle into a corner, where it shattered on the wooden floor.

  “I hope Malthus can truly best that wizard of yours,” said Soto. “I doubt that either of us is up to the task."

  “That's for damned sure,” said Stamovan then led the Sandlander into the chaos outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Adam hurried through the waking keep, arms outstretched to prevent his burden from brushing against his face. Though he knew the strange flower couldn't hurt him, the displaced eye frightened the boy. He had yet to witness the sowing of such a plant, but the eyes he'd seen on similar buds appeared eerily human to him. Luckily, the wide red petals were currently closed over the blossom. He passed through the great servants’ galley and wondered whether he'd ever grow accustomed to such marvels and monstrosities. Under Nikkolynda's tutelage, the prospect seemed likely.

  A handful of people occupied one end of the galley's long table so Adam detoured around the opposite direction. Though the residents of the keep were used to strange sights involving the apprentices in the dark blue robes, Adam felt self-conscious under their curiosity. Besides, the flowing garment still made him feel girlish.

  “Hi, Adam,” said a soft voice.

  Adam stumbled and nearly dropped the clay pot as a girl stepped out of the larder. He'd met her a few days earlier; her name was Melanie and she was a year younger than he. Despite their age difference, she stood a few inches taller. Dark freckles covered every inch of her face, which was framed by two long, dark braids. Melanie smiled and jerked her head to the side, throwing one braid over her shoulder. She worked as a cook's errand girl, but Adam knew from earlier conversations that Melanie planned on being a general in the Imperial army one day. As far as he could remember, though, the vast majority of soldiers he'd encountered were men.

  “Good morning,” he said and continued walking. Melanie took up step with him.

  “Are you bringing someone a flower?”

  As if conscious of the girl's presence, the closed bud began to stir. A slight rustle in the closed petals caught Adam's eye and he swallowed.

  “It's an experiment,” he said. “For the Prime Wizard.” He picked up the pace somewhat, but Melanie kept up easily as he exited the galley into a corridor.

  “Is it a magic flower?"

  “I think so,” he said and prayed the plant's magical nature wouldn't reveal itself. It bobbed on its stem independently of his body motion. Arguing voices echoed from the direction of the library as they passed an open intersection. The door to Nikkolynda's tower appeared in the distance, a plain-looking wooden portal in the otherwise unbroken wall.

  “Are you busy this afternoon?” asked Melanie. “If your master will let you go, some of the kids are having a tournament of dart ball in the yard next to the stable. It's starting at the fourth hour past noon, and I thought maybe you'd like to go with me?"

  Adam had no idea what Nikkolynda had planned for his afternoon. At the moment he couldn't recall the day's schedule of classes with Pellorin and the other wizards. The petals on the flower were opening and he broke into a run, shouting, “That's wonderful, I'll see you then” over his shoulder. Melanie came to a halt and watched with a puzzled smile as he bolted through the tower door.

  The flower opened completely as the door closed and Adam paused at the bottom of a spiral stairway. The blossom twisted around on its stem to regard the panting boy solemnly. “Don't look at me,” he said. The flower ignored him, and he started up.

  The stairway ended in a short landing bounded by another closed door. Adam stopped on the top step and set the pot down to rest for a moment. His arms ached from carrying the clay and dirt, but he was ready to be rid of his strange package. He searched the floor with his eyes and located the small, straight cra
ck where the stone of the landing met that of the top step.

  Nikkolynda had introduced Adam to the arcane properties of the wizard's tower on the boy's first day as an apprentice. The wizard's workroom and quarters actually lay underground, far beneath the basement that ran under half the keep. Few residents of the keep knew the actual location of Nikkolynda's lair—besides the Emperor himself, only Pellorin and Amaut were privy to the secret. Standing up, Adam hefted the potted flower again and faced the landing. In a loud, clear voice he uttered a string of arcane words memorized under Pellorin's tutelage. When the echoes faded down the spiral stairway he stepped toward the door.

  Nothing happened, which was exactly what Adam expected. Without the incantation, a person crossing the seam in the rock would have been immediately transported to an identical doorway outside Nikkolynda's true quarters. The change in locale was undetectable, as Adam knew from countless personal experiences.

  He recited another Halonic phrase and closed his eyes. Nothing happened. Frowning, he repeated the words, paying more attention to the inflection of each syllable this time. An orange glow lit up his eyelids, and when Adam looked, he clearly saw the transport glyph carved into the wall at the front of the landing. The loops and whorls indicated that he still stood in the tower—the subterranean version was the inverse of the symbol before him. He smiled to himself, pleased with his first field attempt at a scrying spell. He turned to pass the final hurdle of Nikkolynda's tower.

  The wooden door had no handle, only a square plate with a keyhole in the center. Adam balanced the pot awkwardly between one arm and his hip while fishing through his pouches for the key. He found a ring of a dozen and selected one by feel. It slid smoothly into the lock mechanism, but he didn't turn it. He drew a deep breath and thought for a moment, then uttered yet another bit of Halonic. The door swung open to the inside of the tower.

  Pellorin had explained the door in painstaking detail as part of Adam's introduction to the classifications of magic. After a thorough lecture on the racial attributes of magic, the wizard had brought Adam to the top of the tower and made him examine the lock.

  “It's actually a composite of two different magics,” Pellorin had said. “Human and dwarf. The lock contains no tumblers. Instead, a dwarven magician enchanted a small block of glastock. He used half of it to create the lock chamber and the other to form the head of the key. When the two pieces meet, the glastock becomes magnetic. It draws the iron bolt back, allowing the door to swing freely. To doubly proof the tower, the door won't move at all unless the command phrase is given."

  Adam had followed the explanation with great interest, though he was less thrilled by the hours of practice that had followed.

  As he stepped into the room he withdrew the key from the lock. He glanced at it and stopped in his tracks. He'd used the wrong key.

  Yet, the door had opened.

  Adam set the pot carefully on the floor, holding the door open with his foot. The flower turned again to watch him as he examined the key. It was definitely the wrong one. He hadn't spent an afternoon opening and closing the door without memorizing the symbols etched in the side of the dwarven device. Besides, the head of the real key looked and felt like stone. He located it on the ring and slid it into the lock. Of course, the bolt was already drawn back and didn't budge. When he closed the door the magnet in the wall would pull the bolt back into place.

  “I don't understand,” he said to himself. He looked at the flower, but the plant offered no answers. Sighing, he dropped the keys in his pocket and lifted the pot once more. He set it carefully on the shelf in the empty chamber, watching with fascination as the eye blossom immediately maneuvered to survey the outside world. The view of the parade grounds coming to life was by far more interesting than the bland, vacant room and the flower would remain riveted to the window. Deep beneath the keep the window frame in Nikkolynda's workroom would already be reflecting the eye's field of vision. Adam took one more look at the ghastly bud, then hurried to the stairs. Two equally important questions filled his thoughts: why had the lock malfunctioned, and could he please spend the afternoon with Melanie?

  * * * * *

  The gnomes pulled their wagon with an ease that belied their small stature. This morning, the lumber and tools only reached halfway up the sidewalls instead of towering over in a precarious mountain of wood. They approached the city gate without breaking a sweat, but Ovrod gave Argoll an apprehensive look as he spotted the heavy concentration of soldiers. Two dwarves and four men stood inside the massive doors, and at least a half-dozen archers were visible atop the inner wall.

  “'Haps this isn't such a great idea, Argoll,” said Ovrod.

  “Just keep yer mouth shut and every idea'll be better,” said Barley. He flicked Ovrod's tether, eliciting a menacing gesture from the other gnome.

  “Both you bums shut up,” said Argoll. “Lemme do all the talkin’ if you don't want dinner in the Imperial dungeon."

  A dwarf stepped onto the road, forcing the gnome crew to halt. The wagon rolled forward a few more feet before creaking to a stop. Argoll shrugged off his harness and stepped up to the soldier. The top of his head barely reached the dwarf's nose.

  “What's your business?” asked the dwarf. One or more of his teeth were evidently rotting and the stench nearly knocked Argoll over.

  “We're buildin’ those new barracks fer you boys, an’ we got orders to check out the watchtowers down the southern road, hey?"

  “Hey, Bardin,” called one of the spear-wielding men, “I think that gnome just called you a boy.” The rest of the soldiers broke into laughter while Bardin scowled at Argoll and toyed with the handle of his massive war hammer.

  “Get that thing unloaded,” Bardin said. “No wagons or carts leave the city without being searched, Shorty."

  At that, the human guards nearly doubled over.

  “Yeah, hey, you heard the man, you bums, get ‘er unloaded!” Argoll dashed from gnome to gnome, pushing them toward the back of the wagon. Under the menacing gaze of Bardin the six scrambled into a line. Ovrod and Ollodin passed lengths of lumber and pipe to their partners, who built neat stacks alongside the road. A pair of farmers entered the gate with vegetable-laden carts and were given a cursory examination before passing through. They stared at the gnome assembly line as they passed.

  The wagon was empty in twenty minutes, during which time the soldiers grew bored and wagered with one another on the date of the first strike against Addamantia. Bardin gave the empty wagon bed a desultory glance then tapped his hammer lightly on one of the wooden wheels.

  “Looks like your wheel's startin’ to go, Shorty,” he said. “Damned shame if you're to break one."

  “Oh, hey, yes, sir,” said Argoll. “That's very bad. Great Lord, His Imperial Righteousness, he'd be real mad with us if we didn't get to his watchtowers today."

  To Argoll's relief, the dwarf left the wheel alone and scowled again at the gnomes. “Get this crap loaded and outta here,” he said. “This road gets busy ‘round midday. I don't want your garbage blocking the way."

  The gnomes reversed their previous positions and soon returned their materials and tools to the wagon. The shadow of a flyer passed over as they took up the tethers and urged the wagon forward once again. They avoided the eyes of Bardin and his companion, finding it quite easy to feign fearful timidity.

  Argoll kept the crew moving until they were a half-hour past the gate and under the cover of the forest, away from the eyes of archers or gliders. At his command, the gnomes quickly sprang into the wagon once more and unpacked about half its contents. Barley popped a knot out of an underlying board and a small section of the wagon floor opened up, revealing a hidden compartment and the curled up body of Kandys. The thief's face streamed with sweat from the warm confines of the hideaway, but she took Argoll's proffered hand and nimbly sprang from the wagon.

  “You were wonderful,” Kandys said. Freedom from the hunt going on inside Hurst invigorated her. She swept Ar
goll into her arms and whirled the surprised gnome around. His friends snickered behind their hands while Argoll staggered in a dizzy circle, stuttering. Then the thief she'd be returning to the city later and sobered a bit.

  “You should give some thought to becoming thieves,” she said.

  “Oh, Great Lord, no,” said Argoll. “Carpenters aren't no good at that sort of thing.” He shot the chuckling Barley a dark look. “Though the damned plumbers might be."

  Barley hastened to help the others load the cart yet again.

  “All right,” said Kandys, “we meet back here two hours before dark, right?"

  “You got it,” said Argoll. “Plenty o’ time. We could build five, maybe six towers in that time. We'll getcha back in, no problem."

  “You're wonderful,” she said again. “I owe you."

  Argoll's grayish skin turned even darker in the gnome's version of a blush. “It's nothing. Hey, that Alexander, he's a good guy, for a Tall One."

  Kandys smiled. “I've met worse."

  The thief turned and took off down the road, enjoying the feel of her muscles stretching back out after the cramped journey in the hidden compartment. The unfamiliar surroundings of trees and open sky discomfited her somewhat. Even in the midst of the forest it seemed there was nothing to obscure her view and, hence, nowhere to hide. At least Stamovan's men wouldn't be looking for her beyond the walls.

  A rustle in the underbrush startled her and she sprang to the far side of the road, dagger leaping into her hand. A squirrel darted out from under the thick foliage and scampered halfway up a tree, where it clung upside down and stared at her. She made an obscene gesture at it and continued on her way.