by Lev AC Rosen
“My mom’s restaurant,” she says. “Late lunch crowd. I’m in a corner booth. I’m supposed to be working on my homework.”
“Me too,” Nick says.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t believe you. It’s just…I thought Reunne was an NPC, so when you got to that part…” She trails off.
“You don’t believe it’s my mom, do you?” Nick doesn’t mind this as much. He knows it sounds crazy, and he has no proof. But that’s okay. It’s a new theory. He’ll get some proof. And now Nat can help him.
“It just sounds kind of crazy,” Nat says. There’s a beat where Nick stares at his feet and notices one of his shoelaces is untied. He kicks both his shoes off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said crazy.”
“I know,” Nick says, and stares at his feet. “It does sound weird.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell you?”
“I don’t know, exactly. I feel like there’s the real her but that she only comes out sometimes. The rest of the time, it’s like she’s lost in this fog. I think it could be the drugs they’re giving her at the home.”
“It’s like a conspiracy,” Nat says. “That’s why it sounds so weird.”
“I know that,” Nick says. “But I’m going to prove it’s her. Then they’ll have to let her come home.” Nat is silent, but Nick can hear people talking in the background and a sudden sound like water being poured on a fire, all sizzle and smoke. “Will you help me?” he asks.
“How?” Nat says. “We can’t break character on the server. You can’t just call her ‘Mom’ and see what happens.”
“I know,” Nick says, staring at the menu screen on the game. It shows the mountain of Wellhall, the clouds swirling around it while the eerie sound of violin strings and vocals, more like weeping than singing, play in the background. While he watches, the screen darkens as the clouds around Wellhall swell out like waves, and then the screen shows the Tower, white and gleaming as snow falls gently around it. “Just…If I can prove it to you, will you back me up?”
“Okay,” Nat says. “But if you can’t…”
“Then maybe it’s not her,” Nick concedes. “Maybe I’m just going crazy like my mom.”
“It’s not crazy to want your mom to get better,” Nat says. “I know that.”
“Thanks,” Nick says. The game has started up, but he turns it off now. He wants to play when Nat’s on. “I’m going to do some homework now. But you’ll be on the game tonight? You’ll help me prove it’s my mom?”
“I’ll help you investigate,” Nat says. Which is close enough, Nick thinks. “See you then,” he says.
SEVERKIN WAKES up to the bright light of snowy places. It streams in through the window like a banner and casts a white circle, like from a magnifying glass. He rises, then washes his face in the basin in the room. The water is ice cold and wakes him up. After dressing he goes and knocks on the doors of his comrades. Elkana’s room is empty, the door open. Reunne’s door is closed, and she doesn’t immediately respond to his knock. Severkin takes inventory of his weapons while waiting. He could use more arrows.
Reunne opens the door. “Ready to get started?” she asks.
Severkin nods, a smile on his face. “I think Elkana is already downstairs.”
They head downstairs, and Severkin studies Reunne, the way she walks, and the lines around her eyes. He thinks of her missing father and wonders if it haunts her, knowing he might still be out there, alive, waiting for her to rescue him. At the bar, Elkana is devouring a plate of meat and eggs. They sit with her and eat some breakfast, although not so large as Elkana’s.
“This is going to be fun,” Severkin says to Elkana.
“Maybe,” Elkana says cautiously.
When they’re done with breakfast, they head outside and walk toward the Tower. The city is different in the daytime, with only a gentle snow falling. Now it looks like they’re walking along the edge of a giant snowflake, and the Tower is the farthest tip. There aren’t many people out in the streets, but those who are have their heads down, watching for ice, and so don’t pay Severkin and his companions much heed.
Up close, the Tower is less tower-like than from afar: narrow and tall, but deeper than expected. A huge archway with a gate opens onto a courtyard, and behind that is another large door through which Severkin assumes is the Tower proper. But he doesn’t spend much time looking at it because he’s distracted by the students in the courtyard. They all shovel snow in unison, like soldiers, and they all wear matching robes—in bright blue.
“Blue robes,” he says.
“Same color she made us wear in the undercity,” Reunne says. Severkin tries to exchange a look with Elkana, but when he catches her eye, she just looks confused.
“Did you have to shovel dirt?” Severkin asks.
“Some,” Reunne answers, walking carefully around the edge of the courtyard so as not to interfere with the students. “Marching, too. Lots of marching. ‘Physical activity for the spirit and the mind,’ she called it.”
“Shoveling snow has never helped with my magic,” Elkana says.
“Have you tried it?” Reunne asks.
“Nah. I just know from instinct. Maybe this isn’t the place for me ta join up after all.” They’d circled the courtyard and come to the large doors, which Reunne opens. Inside, the Tower is surprisingly large, made all of stone, with narrow, swordlike windows cut into the walls, leaving only thin punctures of snow light in their wake. These slices of light from the windows crisscross to form a white spiderweb on the floor. The room is empty except for one man in a blue robe behind a desk in front of a stairway. He looks up as they enter but doesn’t say anything until they’re very close to him.
“The Tower is off limits to nonstudents,” he says in a whisper.
“We’re from the guard,” Severkin says, taking out his new badge. “We were sent for.”
The man studies the badge, then nods. “Mistress Frigit is on the top floor. Please do not step into any of the other rooms.” He immediately returns to staring at his desk, as though the conversation has exhausted him.
The three walk past him and up the staircase. As it ascends, the walls close in around it, with only the occasional door and landing. Elkana tries one of the doors and it opens slightly. She nods at Severkin.
“I bet they have some good equipment,” she says. “And enough of it that they wouldn’t mind a little going missing.”
“Mistress Frigit keeps very tight records,” Reunne says before Severkin can respond. “And besides, we’re guards. We don’t steal from citizens.”
Elkana stares at Reunne and then at Severkin.
“You don’t steal?” she says.
Severkin shrugs and purses his lips. “Not in front of her, anyway,” he whispers, and Elkana chuckles.
Reunne is already half a flight above them, so they run to catch up and nearly bump into her. She’s standing in front of the door at the end of the stairway. She knocks.
“Enter!” calls a brisk voice. They open the door and walk into the headmistress’s office, the top of the tower. It’s bright, because the ceiling is clear glass, showing the silver blue of the sky above them. The ceiling dips down into the wall in places, like melting snow, providing a view of the city and the frozen wastes to the north. Bookshelves lined with old tomes are placed against the wall where there are no windows, and a cast-iron stove sits to one side, the smell of herbs and smoke coming from it. In the center of the room is a low desk, and sitting behind it, looking over a huge book, is a dwarf. She glances up when they enter. She’s small even for a dwarf and wears the same bright blue as the students below, but with a yellow collar at the neck of her robe. She has eyeglasses that make her eyes seem like little black dots, and her gray hair is slicked back so tightly into a bun that it’s nearly invisible.
“You’re the guard?” she asks.
“Yes, Mistress Frigit,” Reunne says. “You may remember me—”
“I don’t have time for that,” Frigit interr
upts, raising a palm. “You’re here for the Staff, but I don’t have it. It was stolen. You’ll retrieve it, along with the other stolen items, and eliminate the thief. Is that clear?”
“Is there a reward?” Elkana asks.
“You’ll be paid by the guard, I assume,” Frigit says in dripping, unimpressed tones. “And you’ll be helping to stop the giants, which strikes me as a reward unto itself.”
“What if we wanted ta join the Tower?” Elkana asks. “I’m not in the guard. I’m just helping.”
“A troll in the Tower?” Frigit says, standing. She looks Elkana up and down, shaking her head in wonder. “Do you actually know any magic?”
“I do,” Elkana says, her hand suddenly glowing red hot. “And a troll using magic is no stranger than a dwarf using magic.”
“I dare say it is. But very well. If you assist in this quest, you will be given access to the Tower as a member. I assume you’re not going to be taking classes or working in the courtyard.”
“Hadn’t planned on it.” Elkana’s hand snuffs out with an audible gasp.
“Good. You might terrify the students. Anyway, as I said, assist and you can have access. You can all have access.” She waves her hand as though tossing peasants spare change. “Now, the thief. A human named Helena Halja. She was the headmistress of the Tower. Not the one before me but the one before that. She left under unseemly circumstances. Accusations of necromancy, disgusting things like that. Apparently, she took a lot of the Tower’s most valued artifacts with her when she left, and no one thought to check. Also, my predecessor was an idiot.”
“Do you know what she took, exactly?” Severkin asks. He sees hundreds of artifacts, filled with secrets, dancing in front of him.
“No, not exactly. But I’ll trust you to give her lair a thorough search and bring back whatever you find.”
“And where is this lair?” Reunne asks.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Frigit says, sitting down. “But if one is to put stock in rumor—and unfortunately there’s really nothing else to put stock in in this instance—she had a home in the mountains to the northeast. A little manor. Why anyone would have a manor there is beyond me and, frankly, should have been a sign that the woman wasn’t meant for higher education, but there it is. Start there. I’m sure you’ll find something. You are the professionals, after all.” And with that, she looks back down at her book.
“That’s it?” Elkana asks.
“Thank you, Mistress Frigit,” Reunne says, and heads for the door, motioning for Severkin and Elkana to do likewise. Elkana looks like she wants to say more, but they exit and Reunne shuts the door behind them.
“That was helpful,” Elkana says, heading down the stairs, taking two at a time. “A mansion in the hills kinda over that way.” She waves a clawed hand.
“She didn’t seem to remember you,” Severkin says to Reunne.
“She might have,” Reunne says, “and just not cared. But she’s had many students. I wouldn’t be offended if she’d forgotten me.”
“She definitely didn’t have any interest in small talk,” Elkana says. “I’m just hoping this is worth it. I should have asked what resources the Tower has. Spell making? An enchanting room? I’d rather not go kill some necromancer just so I have access ta an impressive herb garden.”
“With Mistress Frigit in charge, there will be much more than that,” Reunne says.
“Well, good,” Elkana says. “Before we head out, I’d like to see if I can purchase a lightning spell.”
“I need more arrows,” Severkin says.
“I could use some better armor,” Reunne says. “Let’s meet at the gate to the city—but be quick. I want to find this place before nightfall.”
The three of them split up to arrange their equipment and supplies. The city is more alive now but still frozen, and the people move too slowly for Severkin; they seem not quite awake, or even alive. The shopkeepers sigh when he buys from them, their breath creating small clouds in the cold air. Their fingernails are so pale they look like ice. Severkin asks around, tries to find out about the mansion in the hills, about Helena Halja, but the citizens just look at him with frosted, empty eyes. No one knows anything, but the arrows he buys are sharp. Severkin is at the city gates first, but Reunne is right behind, and Elkana shows up a moment later.
“The shopkeep at the spell shop said we should follow the last of the frozen rivers to the east, till we hit a graveyard. He said we should be able ta see the mansion from there, if the weather’s clear.”
“We’d better hurry, then,” Severkin says, looking at the horizon. Some clouds are moving in from the south, bubbling and dark.
Reunne takes the lead, as hers is the only short-range weapon, but the progress is quick, now that the day is clear. As they hike, Elkana fires off questions at Reunne like the sparks that occasionally pop and crackle out of her fingers.
“So what was it like, then, growin’ up in the dark?”
“I have nothing to compare it to. But in retrospect, I’d call it…limited. Information was controlled by the government, so we knew only what they told us, ate only what they provided,” Reunne says, stepping over a frozen puddle.
“That how ye got in with the guard, then? National service?”
“Yes, about.”
“About?” Elkana asks, throwing some sparks at a wolf that has been staring at them from the woods. It yelps and runs off.
“I wasn’t drafted, if that’s what you’re asking. There just weren’t very many other choices that I was qualified for or that paid nearly as well. Or that gave me the opportunity to see outside the undercity. I traveled all under the land. Once or twice I even headed to the surface.”
“In all your travels, what’s the oddest disease you’ve come down with?” Severkin asks.
“I don’t know,” Reunne says. “Why all the questions?”
“Just gettin’ ta know ye better,” Elkana says.
They encounter a few more wolves, which they dispatch easily, and once, a huge bear that provides more of a challenge, but they recover quickly and reach the graveyard just as the clouds reach them and it begins sleeting in slow, thick tears. Mist seems to rise from the gravestones, which are half buried under frost and look long neglected. A single rooster, somehow escaped from a nearby farm, wanders the graves, dusty red and starving.
“Do ye see anything?” Elkana asks, her arm over her head in a futile attempt to stay dry.
“There,” Severkin and Reunne say simultaneously, both pointing to the same spot.
“Heh,” Elkana says. “Almost like ye two are related.”
“We have the same blood,” Reunne says.
Severkin smiles. “I sometimes feel like you’re the gray elf mother I never had,” he says in a forced half laugh, as though trying to make a joke of it.
Reunne smiles at this and places a hand on his for a moment.
“And you’re a great history teacher,” he adds.
“History?” Reunne asks, pulling her hand back. “I’m not that ancient. Though I suppose I am educating you about your roots.”
“History…,” Elkana says, as if thinking about something.
“Yes. He’s a gray elf who doesn’t know about gray elves,” Reunne says. “So I’ve been teaching him. But now I’d rather we head to that mansion and retrieve the Staff.”
Severkin nods and looks at Elkana, smiling in triumph, but she won’t meet his eye. They find a rough path, barely visible, at the far end of the graveyard, where the clawlike rocks jut suddenly out of the ground, a wall of stone fists. As they begin their hike, they are almost immediately set upon by a pair of bears. Elkana’s hands crackle with electricity as Severkin notches an arrow.
“So do ye think of Severkin as kin?” Elkana asks, throwing lightning at the bears. “What with your both bein’ gray elves, even though he was raised overland?”
“We’re blood,” Reunne says, spinning her spear to ward off one of the bear’s claws. “Can we talk
about this later?”
“Well, yeah, but ye had a different upbringing,” Elkana says, rolling out of the way as the other bear charges her. Severkin releases the arrow, and it hits the bear’s flank with a thunk but doesn’t slow it down.
“As you did from the rest of your blood, I’d wager,” Reunne says, stabbing at the other bear with her spear. “What does it matter?”
“Just want to know what yer relationship is.” Elkana rubs her palms together and lets out an electric crack that stuns both bears.
“He’s too young for me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Reunne says, plunging her spear through the chest of one bear. “He’s all yours.”
Elkana chuckles. “He’s on the scrawny side. I’m undecided.”
“I’m plenty fit,” Severkin says, and slashes the throat of the other bear for good measure.
“We should stay quiet,” Reunne says. “We’re getting close, and I don’t want to set off any alarms if we can help it.”
By the time they reach the manor, climbing over the last hump with their hands, it’s pouring sleet and so dark that they can barely see one another. There’s a tall fence, like steel lace, around the manor, but the gate swings open and shut in the wind. Reunne grabs it and holds it open so the others can pass through.
“Do we just knock?” Severkin asks at the door.
“And say what?” Elkana says. “ ‘We heard ye stole some stuff, would ye mind giving it back, please?’ ”
“I think perhaps stealth would be the best way to approach this,” Reunne says, nodding.
“Excellent,” Severkin says. “I’ll lead the way.” He kneels down and takes out his lockpicks. It’s a little difficult to work with the wind and sleet, so it takes him twelve seconds to pick the lock, nowhere near his personal best. No guards come running when they walk inside, no alarm sounds. In fact, once they close the door, it becomes completely silent, the storm outside a memory. The only sounds are of their footsteps on the dirty marble tiles and of their breathing, like whispers in the dark.
“This place looks abandoned,” Elkana says, summoning a floating orb of white light that circles her like an obsessed firefly. Severkin looks around. She’s right. Not just abandoned but sacked: paintings torn from splintered frames, rooms empty aside from the occasional table too heavy to move or chair too worthless to steal. The floors are coated with dust and mold so thick and undisturbed it looks like rugs. They make a thorough examination of the manor, upstairs and down, but there’s nothing, not even rats. Severkin bites his lower lip in frustration. Where are the artifacts?