One Hundredth Magic

by Jeffrey Turner

  The rest of the open space in the warehouse was divided into smaller sections by blocks of stone. Stacks of rough-cut gray formed a three-sided display area for various winch and pulley devices, while a wall of polished marble served as the backdrop for racks of digging and cutting tools. Inside a section formed by granite Alexander saw curious devices that resembled barrels affixed with pump handles. Long pipes ran from the sides of the barrels, and he guessed the machines could be used for delivering air to mine workers. Scaffolding lined the walls everywhere, except for an area blocked from floor to ceiling by iron bars. Within this cage were piles of crates, some opened, packed with straw and small chunks of rock. Glastock, Alexander realized. The contents of those crates might be worth more than the rest of the warehouse goods combined.

  Looking down the wall to the left of the office, he found a wide stairway leading to the loft-style second story. Mounted to the supports of the upper level was an array of huge wheels, through which various chains and ropes ran to the pulleys hanging from the roof. To Alexander's eye, Tarlsman's warehouse appeared to be nothing more than just that. He turned back to the office, where Kandys was studying the lock on the rolltop desk.

  “There won't be anything in there,” he said.

  “How do you know?"

  “That's my line of work, remember? Discovering people's secrets? When your front is a legitimate business you don't hide your dirty work in the office. It'll be in a space in the wall, or the floor, or somewhere in the basement."

  “What are we actually looking for?” Kandys asked.

  “Well,” he said, “you'll know it when you see it."

  She nodded. “Uh-huh. Very wise."

  “Let's see if there's a basement."

  There was a basement, and it was easily found. Beneath the stair to the second floor they found a second set of steps, this one leading down. A dim glow emanated from the nether chamber.

  “Guard probably leaves the lanterns down there all night,” whispered Kandys. “Easier than lighting them every time he does his rounds."

  “I don't think he does many rounds,” said Alexander as a particularly raucous snort echoed through the warehouse, but Kandys was already down the stairs. The Huntsman followed more slowly, one hand resting uneasily on the dagger he'd received from Emperor Theodoric. The presence of the downstairs lanterns bothered him in an inexplicable way. Though he couldn't put the sense into words, something about the basement felt wrong to him.

  The subterranean chamber seemed much the same as the ground floor of the warehouse, though the size and weight of the various equipment was significantly smaller. Tall, opened barrels held a surplus of hammers and saws, and stacks of nail kegs lined the walls. A bundle of drawings hanging from one wall turned out to be architectural sketches of the temple of Ozymandius. After fifteen minutes their search turned up nothing more than rock sanders and a chair with one broken leg.

  “What next?” said Kandys. “If we're going to start ripping out the walls, I'd better go take care of the guard."

  “That wall,” he said, pointing. “Does it look closer to you than the one upstairs? Like this room is shorter than the one above?"

  Kandys shrugged. “Happens all the time with cellars like this.” Nevertheless, the thief stepped close to the wood paneling and ran her hands over the rough surface, feeling for hidden springs or levers. Alexander alternated between watching her and the stairs. He knew they'd spent less than half an hour in the warehouse but feared the guard would wake at any moment. Adriana's warning echoed in his mind—Alexander had no wish to harm an innocent man, but neither did he wish to spend his future in an Imperial prison.

  A small exclamation from Kandys brought his gaze back to the wall, a portion of which slid smoothly to one side as she stepped away.

  “I think I see it,” she said, grinning when the room beyond was fully revealed.

  “I'd say so.” He stepped inside, transfixed by two large maps nailed to the opposite wall. One depicted the Western Realm, the other the interior of the Stronghold. Broad-stroked arrows dominated the realm, their stems ending for the most part in Hurst, Addamantia, and Forthaven. Cryptic combinations of numbers and letters were printed along the length of the arrows, and more of the same dotted strategic positions along the rivers and highways. The map of the Stronghold was similarly augmented, with key positions in the dwarven home marked by colored crosses. A table stood in the center of the room; Alexander circled it slowly and nearly tripped over a carelessly dropped miner's pick as he stared at the maps.

  “What are they?” Kandys asked.

  “Invasion plans. They mean to take over the entire realm, plus the Stronghold.” He lifted the unbound lower edge of the realm map to reveal another sheet beneath. “This one's a timetable. If I understand it, they expect to have complete deployment in three days and attack Addamantia in five. It looks like there'll be some kind of internal power struggling in the Stronghold, which Hurst will join in a month."

  “How? A couple of dwarves aren't going to lead our army against the rest of the realm."

  Alexander flipped back to the map. “You're right, they're not. Look.” He tapped his finger on the insignia drawn at the head of the two largest arrows.

  “Prince Fenric and General Draston,” said Kandys. “But where's the Emperor?"

  Alexander looked at her.

  “No,” said Kandys, shaking her head.

  “What better way to spark a war?"

  “His own father? I don't believe it!"

  Alexander traced from symbol to symbol thoughtfully, comparing the troop counts of Addamantian forces with what he knew firsthand of their number. They appeared very accurate to his limited knowledge, so he switched to the Imperial units.

  “These are cavalry, and these are infantry. Archery units here and here, scouts, Air Corps, and I expect these are supply wagons. I'm not sure about these, though, unless—” He broke off the thought with a horrible sense of foreboding.

  “What?” asked Kandys.

  “The statues. The Sandlanders were right, Fenric's warlock is going to use the grimoire to create an army of spirits. That's what this group in the front is."

  “The one closest to Addamantia."

  “Yes."

  They stared at the map in silence for a moment, until Kandys remembered the guard upstairs and nudged him. “What do we do?” she asked.

  “I don't know. I need to think.” Alexander dropped into one of chairs and squeezed his eyes shut while Kandys drifted silently to the doorway and glanced up the stairs.

  “How do you convince the Emperor his son wants him dead?” he said to himself. Kandys looked at him and started to speak, then thought better of it. Abruptly, Alexander rose from his seat and tore the pages from their nails. He stacked and folded them quickly, then tucked the bundle into his shirt. “Adriana's the key,” he said. “Sirgar's part of the Emperor's personal guard, right? Adriana can convince him to take us seriously."

  “They'll know someone's been here when they see the maps are gone,” said Kandys.

  “Doesn't matter. We need the maps for proof, flimsy as it is. Besides, Fenric and his men are already committed. They can't call the whole thing off just because their maps disappear."

  Kandys nodded and beckoned him out of the secret room. She slid the concealing panel back into place then stood back for a moment to examine the wall. Satisfied, she led the way up the stairs, creeping to the top to check on the guard before slipping into the rear office. Alexander followed as quietly as he could, envying the guard's sleeping bliss but grateful the man hadn't woken up and forced a confrontation. With a little luck, he thought, the whole affair could end as bloodlessly as this night.

  * * * * *

  They walked fast as the rising sun cast an orange glow across the sky. With the dawn came the first pedestrian traffic of the day, men and women on their way to work—or home from it, in some cases. Kandys had snatched two billowing white shirts from a clothesline where the
y'd been carelessly left overnight and the two now looked like any other pair on the road. The patrols and city guard gave them hardly a second glance as they headed for the inn.

  “I'm supposed to meet the Sandlanders at midday, at a moneylender's shop near the southern gate. I'll have to tell them to squeeze the grimoire's location out of Stamovan,” said Alexander. “Adriana's not expecting me until the afternoon, but I should try to find her before that.”

  “The keep opens to visitors at the eighth hour,” said Kandys. “We've got plenty of time to get there, then we just have to wait for a page to find her."

  “Not we,” said Alexander. “Me. Stamovan's still got men looking for you everywhere. I'll find Adriana while you hide out in the room."

  This prompted an argument that lasted the rest of the way to the inn, but by the time they'd arrived Alexander was fairly certain the thief would remain safely secreted away. They weaved through a pair of empty rickshaws parked annoyingly close to the door and entered the common room, which was already filling with patrons seeking breakfast.

  “I'll be up in a moment,” said Kandys. “I want some apples."

  Alexander nodded and took the stairs two at a time on the way to his room. Though his body was tired from the night's exertion his thoughts buzzed with anticipation of the meeting with Adriana and Sirgar. If the sergeant could be convinced of the danger he and Adriana might be able to expose Fenric and save the Emperor, who in turn could prevent the war with Addamantia.

  He shook his head, refusing to grow discouraged at the great number of “if's” and “maybe's” in his reasoning. He unlocked his room and stepped inside to find Count Hafflston sitting on his bed. The Emperor's dagger was in his hand before Alexander registered the face and recognized his visitor.

  “Blazes, Eduard, you scared the wits out of me.” He closed the door and returned the dagger to its sheath. Hafflston looked up at him with a sad expression and the corner of his mouth twitched toward his chin. He held his cane by the tip with one hand and tapped it against the other palm.

  “Alexander, my boy, I bring bad news.” With some difficulty Hafflston stood, resting his weight with one hand on the bedpost.

  “What is it?” He stepped forward to help the old man then paused, struck by a sudden thought. “How did you know where to find me?"

  Hafflston's frail appearance belied his speed. He lashed out at Alexander with the cane, catching the younger Huntsman flush across the chin with the thick, curved handle. The sharp burst of pain exploded through Alexander's head with a force that dropped him to his knees, the image of the old count swimming in triplicate before his watering eyes.

  “You've always been one of my favorites,” said Hafflston. His words floated to Alexander's ears as if from a great distance. “I regret using you this way, but you'll serve a great cause tonight.”

  The Huntsman reached for his dagger but his fingers were numb and refused to close on the jeweled hilt. The door creaked open again and heavy footsteps stomped into the room, accompanied by the jingle of chain. Though he'd never heard Stamovan's voice, the heavy dwarven accent left Alexander with no doubt of who stood behind him.

  “Aw, Eduard,” said Stamovan, “he's still fightin'. You gotta tap ’em a bit harder than that."

  This time, Alexander didn't even catch a glimpse of the blow. Stamovan's mace just grazed the side of his head but the impact was enough to spin the Huntsman completely around. He flopped bonelessly onto his side, all thoughts of battling his way out gone. The last thing he saw before consciousness slipped away was a pair of apples, rolling to a stop against Stamovan's boots as Kandys fled down the stairs.

  * * * * *

  “I hope the westerner found something useful in that warehouse,” said Kalnai. He walked on Mezzino's right, opposite Shinvai, and watched as the people of Hurst gave the trio a wide berth. A few displayed open animosity, though none showed enough courage or foolishness to challenge the Burning Men. All three wore their weapons over their black robes—with their welcome beginning to wear thin, Mezzino had no desire to be caught unarmed in the city. “I suspect His Righteousness will frown upon us subjecting one of his soldiers to Ravasakh's questioning."

  “If it comes to that,” said Mezzino, “we'll have to keep the Emperor from finding out."

  “Pardon my pessimism, Fandyiha,” said Shinvai, “but the way of doing this eludes me."

  “A way will present itself,” said Kalnai.

  “Hopefully, it will do so soon,” said Mezzino. “I'm somewhat amazed we're still allowed in the city. With the deployment of those horsemen this morning I don't believe for a moment these people won't be at war within weeks."

  “Ravasakh found no hint of Teriya?” asked Kalnai.

  “None,” said Mezzino. “But the presence of so many alien minds blurs his perceptions. He says it may take days to locate Teriya, assuming the idiot yet lives."

  Kalnai snorted. “Finding just one idiot in this land would require an army of thaumaluk.” He stopped and indicated a sign with his head. Three stacks of coins, surrounded by a black chain, were painted on a slab of white board. “I'll check inside."

  The feyrhakin was gone only for a moment. “The moneylender says the Huntsman hasn't been here."

  “Typical westerner,” said Mezzino. “No sense of time."

  The road darkened suddenly, as though a cloud had passed between the sun and land. Looking up, the Burning Men saw humans and dwarves scatter a few blocks away, chased from the road by a gust of wind that howled between the buildings. Standing between a pair of street lamps was Soto, a naked scimitar in each hand. The thaumarekh's iron collar gleamed as the sunlight returned. His white fighting robe was bound to his legs in preparation for combat. Even from this distance the leaders of Clan Vysthuk observed the red to orange pulse of Soto's eyes, a shifting of color timed to the Burning Man's heartbeat. All three knew the significance of the alteration: the warrior-mage had already performed the rituals to ready his mind and spirit for battle.

  “Great Death,” muttered Shinvai.

  Kalnai drew his scimitar. “How much power can an outcast thaumarekh amass, Fandyiha?"

  “Enough to kill us all if we're not careful,” said Mezzino. He held an oblatt scimitar in one hand and a curved dagger in the other. “He won't have access to the powders and crystals that the thaumaluk prepare, but there are plenty of casts he can make with voice and thought alone."

  “I fear we three are not his equal,” said Shinvai, but his weapon was also readied. “I am the least needed by the clan, Fandyiha. Should he prove too much for us, prepare to strike through my sacrifice."

  “The clan needs you more than you may think, Shinvai Firrakh. Take this course only if all else fails."

  Soto's face broke into a wide grin and he sprinted forward, closing on the trio at a reckless pace.

  “He comes, Fandyiha,” said Kalnai. “Let the way guide you!"

  Mezzino waited in the center of the road as his feyrhakin took three steps to either side. His face betrayed no sign of fear despite his knowledge of the thaumarekh's near-supernatural abilities. He watched impassively as Soto charged, then lifted both blades and pivoted slightly. When the exile was two paces away, Mezzino spun into motion.

  Soto barreled straight for Mezzino, who whirled in place while dropping into a crouch, lashing out with one leg as he spun. Soto leaped over it and cut vicious arcs with both scimitars, which Mezzino deflected away with his own blades. An overhead slash from Shinvai split the space occupied by Soto an instant too late—the thaumarekh was already past and turning, careful to keep Mezzino between himself and Kalnai. Soto reversed direction with unbelievable speed, kicking sideways at Shinvai as he slid forward on the opposite foot. The attack caught Shinvai high in the back of the shoulder and sent him staggering away while Soto picked up Mezzino's counter-slash easily with one scimitar. He cut back at Mezzino's head with the opposite hand but the fandyiha rolled away and Kalnai rushed through the gap.

  Fo
r a moment the feyrhakin drove Soto back, hammering at him with lightning-fast swings that forced Soto to defend with both blades. The exile retreated quickly, then turned Kalnai's scimitar to the side and took to the air. His foot connected with Kalnai's chin to halt the Burning Man's momentum. Kalnai's head snapped backward as Soto landed, and the thaumarekh's eyes darkened to almost black. He spread his arms wide and snapped his feet together, squarely facing the dazed Kalnai. Pursing his lips, Soto puffed out his cheeks and blew a mouthful of air at Kalnai's chest. To Mezzino, it appeared that an invisible hand plucked the feyrhakin from his feet and tossed him backward. He soared thirty feet to slam into the wall of the moneylender's shop, the impact dashing his scimitar from his hand. Kalnai slid down the side of the building, followed by a shattered window shutter, and crumpled to the pavestones.

  Mezzino hurled his dagger at Soto's head, hoping to catch the exile before he recovered from his cast. Soto dodged it easily and pounced at Mezzino, who defended the oncoming flurry with a combination of scimitar blocks and open hand strikes against Soto's wrists. The battle felt horribly desperate to Mezzino, as if his parries and blocks barely turned away Soto's whirlwind attacks. The thaumarekh allowed no opportunity for Mezzino to counter. He seemed intent on slaying the clan leader before the others could rejoin the fight, but fell to his knees abruptly as Shinvai appeared behind him. Mezzino dropped as well to avoid being decapitated by his own ally, and Shinvai converted his swing to a vicious downward slash. Soto caught the attack neatly with one blade held above his head and struck behind with the other. A bright red stain appeared around a rent in Shinvai's robe, just above his knee. But the maneuver left Soto completely exposed to Mezzino, who lunged forward with the tip of his scimitar aimed directly for Soto's stomach.