One Hundredth Magic

by Jeffrey Turner

  Another dwarf, a younger woman this time, returned with huge helpings of meat for Hafflston and Alexander and a steaming bowl for Adriana. Alexander stared at the girl's arms. She looked like she could swing a battleaxe all day without tiring.

  “I'm staying,” he repeated. “I'm sure the Baron'd forgive me coming home under the circumstances, but I want to finish the job. There's something about this deviant that I just can't place, a feeling that I should've found him by now if I'd just put the pieces in the right places. And hell, if we find the killer, we may be able to stop this damned war before it starts."

  “I wish I were so optimistic,” said Adriana. She jabbed her fork all the way through a mushroom. “I'm just about out of ideas."

  For a moment he considered telling her about Kandys's errand to Gerder Fromark. He decided to keep that bit of knowledge to himself for the time being and turned to his lunch.

  “I may be able to help you there,” said Hafflston.

  “How so?” asked Alexander, pausing with a forkful of boar halfway to his mouth.

  “This must remain between the three of us, until you have proof,” said the count.

  “Hafflston—” began Alexander.

  “Yes, I know. I trust you completely or I wouldn't say anything to begin with."

  “What can you tell us?” asked Adriana.

  Hafflston lowered his voice even further and the other two were obliged to lean toward him to hear. “There are strange rumors from the dwarven trade liaison. They fear an uprising in the Stronghold to overthrow Ehrling Vanmaarck. Some say that Burrel Tarlsman is behind it."

  “Tarlsman?” said Alexander. “Who's that?"

  “One of the wealthiest men in Hurst, and definitely the wealthiest dwarf,” said Adriana. “He sells all sorts of goods but specializes in heavy construction equipment, the stuff dwarves use to build the city walls. If there's a dwarven revolution brewing, he'd have the resources to start it."

  “Or it could just be wild rumor,” said Alexander.

  “There's more,” said Hafflston. “Stamovan is supposedly involved, with the express purpose of keeping the Emperor from intervening."

  “Stamovan,” said Adriana. “That little demon bastard!"

  “What better way to keep Hurst from intervening than to start a war between the human cities?” said Alexander. “It's farfetched, but it does make sense."

  “Let's see what we can learn from Burrel Tarlsman this afternoon,” said Adriana, “then we can start following Stamovan. When he's not on Darien's leash the little beast pretty much has free rein."

  “Can we finish lunch first?” asked Alexander.

  “Just be careful,” said Hafflston. “From what I hear, the dwarf is quite the vengeful killer."

  “Thanks, Eduard,” said Alexander. “My future looks brighter with each passing moment."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Once again the conspirators met in Burrel Tarlsman's basement in the early hours of the morning. Soto had taken up residence there two days earlier, aware that the streets of Hurst wouldn't be the safest place for a Sandlander until Fenric was able to announce Soto's appointment to the War Council. Fenric had insisted on the meeting over Malthus's objection, but the warlock did attend in his human guise. Of the seven gathered around Tarlsman's table, only Franklin Draston appeared nervous. He rubbed at the back of his head every few minutes, spreading melted wax from the ringlets in his hair over the skin of his neck. The Emperor had promoted Draston to Samuel de Niron's vacant position the previous afternoon.

  “Rough business bein’ a general, General?” asked Stamovan, grinning at Draston.

  “Better that I were a sergeant again, Sergeant,” Draston said. “You don't know how easy you've got it. Feels like every set of eyes in the keep was watching me last night."

  “You'd be of little use to us as a sergeant,” said Malthus. He smiled as if joking, but Draston's stomach tightened and he felt his palms grow slick almost instantly.

  “All right,” said Fenric. “Count Hafflston, enlighten us on the Huntsman's progress, if you will.” The prince opted not to sit down. He paced back and forth behind Stamovan and Tarlsman with his hands clasped behind his back. Malthus glanced at him occasionally with a clearly annoyed expression.

  “Young Alexander almost gave up on us yesterday,” said Hafflston. “Counselor Thornwell offered him an escort back home, and I believe our Huntsman was tempted to take it."

  “But he didn't?"

  “Of course not. He won't give up until the situation is completely hopeless, and probably not even then. It will take an order from Baron Alfrid to call him back, and by then it will be far too late."

  “Have they unraveled the purpose behind the slayings?” asked Malthus.

  “They've guessed that we aim to start a war between Hurst and Addamantia. However, they've still no idea who ‘we’ are. Thus, I put them on the trail of Burrel and Stamovan. I believe Alexander plans to follow Stamovan tomorrow about town. His Highness will concoct a reason to keep Counselor Thornwell busy for the day."

  Fenric nodded. “Well done, Eduard. We'll let the dolt chase Stam around the city today and tomorrow, then take him early on Midweek."

  “I still say we should take him now, get him out of the way before he finds out more and jeopardizes the plan,” said Tarlsman. He pushed his chair away from the table and crossed the room, searching behind a stack of crates until he found a small keg. Pulling the cork, he poured two mugs, then passed one to Stamovan.

  “No,” said Fenric. “It's vital that the Huntsman stay out of the way but unharmed until Midweek. My father has taken a close interest in him and Thornwell and may notice if Finnell disappears before we're ready."

  Tarlsman shrugged. “The assassination of the Prime Wizard—"

  “Will not occur until three nights hence,” said Malthus. “I cannot be ready sooner."

  “All right, then,” said Draston. “What about the Sandlanders? They're causing one hell of an uproar amongst the scum. Stamovan's keeping most of their mouths shut but the Burning Men are offering outrageous prices for information. Sooner or later they'll find the thief."

  Stamovan growled something incomprehensible and took another pull from the keg.

  “I will deal with them tomorrow,” said Soto. “Without their fandyiha the clan will have no choice but to go home."

  “Somethin’ I've yet to understand,” said Tarlsman. He dropped back into his chair. “How're you gonna control the Imperial wizards once Nikkolynda's gone? I'm thinkin’ they won't just jump up and bow to the next magician that strolls into the keep."

  “They'll bow to the next Emperor,” said Fenric.

  Tarlsman shrugged. “Wouldn't we be better off with Malthus in Nikkolynda's tower?"

  “My needs are better met by remaining unseen, for the moment,” said Malthus.

  “After Nikkolynda's unfortunate demise we'll promote Sheldon or Pellorin,” said Fenric. “When the time comes, Malthus will assume the new Prime Wizard's identity. No one will notice the change, particularly given the solitude of the position."

  Tarlsman broke into a great whooping laugh, which eventually trailed off into a loud belch. “Great Hammer, Malthus. You've got more disguises than a wyvern's got teeth!"

  Hidden safely behind the perfect human face, the Weirdling smiled.

  * * * * *

  Alexander waited impatiently beneath the shade of a willow as the sun climbed into the morning sky. Kandys stood beside him, a presence that simultaneously lightened and soured the Huntsman's mood. She'd insisted on accompanying him on the day's work, arguing that his limited knowledge of the city would impede his ability to follow Stamovan. Alexander had given in reluctantly, but not until the thief had demonstrated a remarkable ability to change her appearance. Using a few oils and powders from an apothecary she'd managed to darken the skin on her face and hands. Her hair was similarly treated, and she'd cut the length of it off with his knife. Slightly larger clothes completed the illu
sion, hiding her shapely body while still allowing her to move freely. Alexander found the fast transformation amazing. He also discovered that he could still be entranced by her clear blue eyes, but the ache in his back reminded him he'd slept before the door again last night.

  “I wasn't actually sure you'd come back,” Alexander said.

  “I thought about going on to Forthave. I keep my word, though, and I don't turn my back on my friends."

  Alexander's laugh startled a bird out of branches above them. “I didn't realize you considered us friends."

  “I suppose anyone who hides a thief in his house is a friend. Especially members of the constabulary. You're not supposed to do that, you know.” She smiled, and Alexander laughed again.

  “There's something about you that makes me wish I knew you better."

  Kandys shook her head. “If you knew me better, you'd probably wish you didn't."

  The seriousness of her tone surprised him. “I doubt that,” he said. “You're by far the most interesting person that I've met and not put in jail."

  “So, we're just going to follow the dwarf wherever he goes?"

  “That's right. He accepted the change of topic while wondering what had darkened her mood so quickly. A pair of women wearing Imperial livery exited the gate to the keep grounds and boarded a waiting rickshaw. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his light tunic. The morning was unusually humid and sweat was already collecting under his hairline, precipitating an annoying trickle toward his neck.

  “What are we looking for?"

  “Whatever he does,” said Alexander. “We want to know where he goes and who he talks to. If there's a conspiracy to start a war there's got to be more people involved than just one warlock and one dwarf."

  Kandys rolled her shoulders forward, then backward, then proceeded through a routine to stretch all of her muscles from the neck down. “What if he doesn't go anywhere?” she asked.

  “Then we sit here all day for no reason."

  She considered that for a moment. “Huh. You do this a lot in your work?"

  “Well, yes. When it's necessary."

  Another woman stepped through the gate. From her attire, or relative lack of it, Alexander guessed her to be a lady of the Evening District. She blew a kiss to the soldiers on duty before whirling around and skipping down the street, long hair flowing behind her. Alexander and Kandys, along with the soldiers and the knot of rickshaw drivers, watched until she disappeared into the distance. When she was gone Alexander fished his aquitaine out from under his shirt and held it up to the sun. They'd waited by the gate for hardly more than an hour.

  “How can you bear to sit in one place for so long? Doesn't it drive you insane?"

  He glanced at her with disbelief. “Are you serious? You're a thief—you mean to tell me you can't sit still for three or four hours?"

  “Of course, I can.” She smiled at him and leaned back against the willow's trunk. “I was just testing you."

  “Oh, really? Can you pop a hammer-lock with a double pin catch and a keyhole swivel?"

  “Hah. In less than a minute. Ever climbed a three-story lamppost and jumped through a bedroom window without waking the lady of the house?"

  “As a matter of fact—"

  A figure blasted through the hanging willow leaves and crashed to the ground next to Alexander. Both Huntsman and thief sprang away, wrenching their weapons free. Bits of green foliage drifted to the ground, some landing on the shoulders of the man who stood before them. His glider wings retracted behind him as he brushed himself off. The leather band holding the young man's hair had slipped loose and now covered one eye. Miraculously, none of the small vials tucked into the pockets of his tight shirt had broken.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “Arne Moragill. Didn't mean to startle you. I'm still a bit new to the Corps."

  “I suppose so,” said Alexander. He slid his sword back into its scabbard. Kandys followed suit with her dagger but remained at a wary distance from the flyer.

  “Um, that's why I'm on courier duty,” said Arne. “You're, uh, Alexander Finnell? Counselor Thornwell said I'd find you here."

  “That's me. Quickly, what's the message?"

  Arne blinked, and for an instant Alexander feared he'd forgotten. “He's taking the northern exit,” the flyer finally said, “and going to the temple of Ozymandius."

  “Crap,” said Kandys.

  “You know where it is?” Alexander asked her.

  “Yeah. There's a small gate at the north end of the keep yard. He must be trying to slip out."

  Arne looked back and forth between the two as if trying to understand their conversation. He started when Alexander turned back to him.

  “Can you return a message to Adriana?"

  “Adriana?"

  “Counselor Thornwell! Tell her that I need to visit the Sandlanders tonight.” He thought of the fragment he'd broken off of Jantaru's sculpture, hidden behind a loose baseboard back at the inn.

  “Oh, the Sandlanders aren't allowed in the city after dark,” said Arne. “You won't be able to—"

  “Just tell her."

  “Yes, sir,” said Arne. He shrugged his arms back through the glider straps and dashed out from under the willow. Turning to the road, he hesitated, then ran through the open gate.

  “I hope he doesn't kill himself before he finds her,” Alexander said.

  “Follow me,” said Kandys. She dashed out from beneath the willow before he could answer and the Huntsman sprinted to catch up.

  “You know the temple he's talking about?” asked Alexander. His sword flopped awkwardly and threatened to entangle his legs. Rather than pause to bind it against his belt, he simple pulled the scabbard away from the frog and ran with it clutched in one hand.

  “I know the whole city."

  She left the street to cut through the lawn of an ivy-covered mansion. A gnome gardener yelped and dropped his shears as the thief bounded over a low fence with Alexander close behind. They skirted a bubbling fountain and followed a path of flat, round stones through a flower garden. Kandys was probably accustomed to using such routes under cover of darkness, Alexander realized, and hoped that the owner of the mansion didn't have private guards patrolling the grounds. They reached the back wall without incident, however, and climbed over onto a narrow street. Clear of rickshaws and pedestrians, this new road afforded a perfect view of the rear of the wealthiest houses in Hurst.

  “Burglar Boulevard,” said Kandys as they jogged up the road. “The Governor has his Way, we have our Boulevard."

  “Hurst doesn't even have a governor."

  “Plenty of burglars, though."

  They were off again at a fast clip. From the position of the sun, Alexander guessed they were headed south and west, angling onto a course that would miss Shipman's Plaza. Kandys ran with an easy gait that convinced him she could do so for days without stopping. Though she didn't appear to look down her feet instinctively avoided the stones jutting from the packed dirt road and the occasional branch across her path. He caught up alongside her and she flashed a quick smile. The thief's cheeks were flushed from the exertion but she ran with an almost carefree attitude, as if this were merely simple exercise and a ruthless killer wasn't waiting at the end of the trip. For a moment Alexander regretted her presence and the possibility that she'd be put in danger, but he reminded himself that Kandys had involved herself early on in this game.

  The residential district soon gave way to shops and restaurants, interspersed with boarding houses or three-story apartments. They passed a trio of rickshaw drivers relaxing at a pastry vendor's stall. The thick-legged drivers waved at the running pair and laughed to one another before returning to their breakfast. When a large rat scurried out of their path a vision of Ferd flashed through Alexander's mind and he giggled involuntarily. This earned him a puzzled glance from Kandys and a stitch in his side.

  “Almost there,” she said as he forced her to slow. He leaned over with his hands on his k
nees, gasping for breath.

  “You people need smaller cities."

  Grabbing him by the shoulder, she set off once more.

  The remainder of the run was mercifully short. After only ten more minutes the thief came to a stop at an intersection. She pulled Alexander up against the side of a building and peeked around the corner. A man and his three children looked at them curiously but continued walking past.

  “Temple Street,” said Kandys. “Ozymandius is the ugly gray one, three down on the opposite side of the road."

  He poked his head around the corner cautiously. All of the buildings on this street were larger than the average Hurst architecture and most were considerably more ornate. The closest was a sandstone masterwork of two towers with a bridge spanning their upper levels. Silk shrouds billowed from the tops of the towers, beckoning to the passersby to enter and pledge their spirits to one god or another. Next door, a priest garbed in brown skirts but no shirt bellowed a midday ritual in a language Alexander couldn't make out.

  The temple Kandys had indicated was indeed ugly. Its squat, pitted façade appeared to be nothing more than basic granite blocks, the same kind used for cheap tenements in Rottown. A pair of plain, wooden doors was the only break in the front, though alleys on both sides could lead to additional entrances. Neither level of the rectangular building was broken by even a single window. Evidently, the temple's adherents enjoyed a spiritual bond more than an aesthetic one.

  “Who the blazes is Ozymandius, anyway?” asked Alexander. He ducked back around the corner and leaned against the wall. His scabbard was still gripped in his left hand, so he returned it to his belt.

  “I'm not sure. Must be some dwarf god."

  “What's he doing in there? Is Stamovan a believer?"

  “I don't know enough about him to tell you.” Kandys shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don't want to know more about him."

  “I do,” said Alexander and returned to his post at the edge of the wall. “I hope he's still in there, or we could be watching this place for nothing."

  As if to answer Alexander's request the doors of the temple opened and Stamovan himself stepped out. He glared up one side of the street and then the other and Alexander slipped back, nearly knocking over Kandys.