"Please write a receipt, I would like Dragypoo," Marcius's eye twitched at the insufferable woman's naming habits, "delivered at my family estate tomorrow."
She wrote out the receipt for the wyvrr at record speed and quickly showed Marcius to the door, every step punctuated with yet another gushing speech -of thanks. Nevertheless, once they had reached the exit, she left him so fast that he wondered if she was ever there at all. He figured she was going back to revel in the gold he had given her for the little creature. With a smile, he patted his much emptier pouch, weaving his way through the line that still occupied the zoo entrance.
The sun was just setting, casting a reddish tint off the buildings, and the night chill was slowly creeping its way into the body of every traveler still out. Marcius was no exception. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, absorbed in his thoughts, as he made his way through the darkening streets of the seaside town.
❧ ❧ ❧
Marcius's thoughts drifted to the memory of his dream, and a chill not caused by the blossoming night air ran up his spine. The little creature was an exact, albeit smaller, replicate of the monster from his dreams. The creature had stolen his fascination, and he couldn't stop himself from admiring the intelligent green eyes that exuded a sense of knowing, or the glimmering bronze scales and lithe form.
He had never heard of a wyvrr, and he found himself wanting to know more about this incarnation of his dreams. He was half tempted to go back and ask for him tonight from Fredalyn. Shaking his head at his eagerness, he decided to focus on what he didn't have. But that could come for tomorrow. Right now, despite wanting to go home, he figured it’d be a decent choice to see what exactly that woman from the Academy wanted.
He stopped a few people and asked for directions to the Dragon's Roost Inn. Most didn't know the place, but he finally found a young man who did. It was in an obscure part of town, where he didn't venture often, which would explain why he never heard of the establishment. He thanked the young man with a silver coin and walked briskly through the now chilly night air, pulling his cloak tighter around himself.
The sign outside was hard to read, and the coldness of the night did little to prompt a careful investigation. He pushed open the door. A wave of heat assailed him as he strolled into a well lit room that held several tables, some still occupied with guests finishing up their supper.
He didn't see the Mage, so he walked over to a nearby drudge that was clearing off a table. "Excuse me, can you direct me to somebody who can help me find a friend who is staying here?” His cheeks still stung from the chill outside, and he was thankful for the well heated inn.
The women took one look at his fine clothing, which despite being worn all day, still indicated that he was a very wealthy person and he was addressing her. Words caught in her throat, she was obviously not used to people speaking her. The girl meekly indicated a man who was just coming down the stairs. He was a tall, thin, balding man with a thick black mustache, ruddy complexion, and a scowl that seemed at home on his face. "I swear, never before had seen such a pompous, arrogant, rude, overbearing. . . " he grumbled audibly. Noticing Marcius watching him, he briskly made his way past the tables, as drudges scurried out of his path like the wake of a ship.
"Can I help you, good sir?"
"Aye, I'm looking for a friend of mine. She goes by the name of Alicia. She’s staying at this inn, I believe."
At the mention of her name, the man's features darkened and a scowl crept over his face. Well, and Marcius had to chuckle inwardly at this, it seemed like he did know the woman. "Why yes I do, she has been a rather pleasant," he stressed the word through clenched teeth, "addition to our roster. Her opinions on how to run an inn are most appreciated. May I get a name for when she asks who is looking for her?"
"Tell her Marcius Realure has come to talk with her."
The man gave Marcius a rather incredulous look, "Talk. . . right. Whatever goes on behind those doors is your business, sire, but please remember my inn has a reputation to uphold." At that, he briskly climbed the stairs two at a time to deliver the message.
The implications of his visit finally dawned on Marcius. He was a young man, visiting a young woman’s room in the dead of night. He could hear the gossip being whispered among the upper class nobles.
"Excuse me, sir." Somehow the innkeeper had snuck up on him. "Her room is the second door on the right. Have fun, I hope she’s worth it." Before an indignant Marcius could respond, the innkeeper had turned around to direct a few wayward drudges.
He decided to give up explaining himself and instead hurried up the stairs. Several flickering candles illuminated the empty hallway as his steps echoed with each plodding step, until he stopped at the second door. Why was he feeling so nervous?
He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, as he knocked.
The door swung open and Marcius lost his coherent thought. It was Alicia, her curly bronze hair spilling to the small of her back, wearing a sheer black shift. One of the straps had fallen to the edge of her beautifully pale shoulder and there was a tad too much leg showing between the bottom of the shift and her leather boots. The shift, which Marcius could now see was adorned with flowery patterns, also did very little to conceal the curvy, lithe form contained underneath. Not to mention the low cut neckline.
The fact that she was seemingly innocent to the sensuality she projected made the situation even worse. Marcius was suddenly overcome with a feeling that perhaps he had much more here than he bargained for.
"Greetings, Marcius, do please come in," she indicated, managing to adjust the wayward strap in the same arm swing. Her sea-green eyes sparkled in the light of the fireplace. "I must say, it is a pleasure to see you respond so quickly to my letter. Although coming at such a late hour might ignite speculations from those with loose tongues, I am glad to see you," she beamed.
Marcius nodded, still feeling dazed at the onslaught of emotions and feelings she had stirred within him. He would need the Goddess with him if he was to get through this.
She shut the door behind him and there was a gentle click as it was locked into place.
❧ ❧ ❧
T he room was dark and empty; the only movement was that of the shadows produced by the gentle radiance of the nearby fireplace as they weaved an intricate ballet of shapes off the recesses of the walls and ceilings. The smell of musky incense was strong, making Marcius dizzy. There were many thickly bound books, jars with various objects, and quills discarded along with accompanying parchments. Marcius found he was strongly reminded of his own habits of decor during the middle of arcane study sessions. The thought was comforting.
The sudden realization of the mess of her room must have thrown her off balance, for she wore reddened cheeks as she sat on the tidy corner of her bed, “Please, Marcius, pull up that chair by my desk so we can talk. Please forgive the state of my room, even a Mage has to study.”
“As you wish, my lady,” He moved the chair into place. Sitting down, he continued, “Now, I have several guesses as to why you would want to speak to a mere apprentice, but please, I’d like to see if any of my theories hold water. Do tell how I can be of service to a Mage.” The brief interval between the coming in door and sitting in the chair had given him time to recover his senses.
He thought it best to keep her off balance. He needed to be in control of the conversation if he wanted to get out of here intact and ahead of the game. Besides, being rude distracted him from other things. Like how that outfit rode up her legs.
Her green eyes narrowed for a moment at the sparsely veiled insult. Marcius thought he might have pushed a bit too hard, but it was replaced shortly thereafter by an unexpected grin. “Aye Master Marcius, I believe I deserved that. I doubt I put on a good show during that fiasco at your estate?”
“That is one way of putting it, Mage Lady.”
“Do please call me Alicia. I called you here for a reason, foremost being that I want to make amends.”
“Or perhaps you wish to charm me into divulging information about a certain, I believe the term is, ‘renegade’ wizard? Why else would you greet a guest who you barely know, clothed in such attire? Has the technique worked for you in the past?” he asked, indicating the black shift. The errant strip had again found its place at the side of her shoulder. He was rewarded by deep crimson blush, which he found disturbingly attractive as she hastily fixed the wayward strap once again.
“Your remarks, while well aimed, fall behind the target, Master Marcius. For the record, I didn’t have the time to change, unless you wished to catch me in the middle of the act?” she said, the grin getting wider at her teasing.
The image the words ignited had him blushing as well, and his cheeks felt feverish. With a slight snort, he struggled to regain control of the situation and himself. It was time to pass the conversation to her and see what she did with it. “Ahhh, ahem. . . that is not the case, of course,. . . Alicia. Please, tell me why I am here? Oh, and just call me Marcius,” he added as an afterthought.
He wasn’t disappointed, she rallied magnificently. “I arrived at this town a week ago, and the Academy had charged me with keeping track of an Arch Magus, your master Antaigne.” This came as a rather brutal shock, Marcius had no idea the often grumpy dwarf was so powerful, an Arch Magus was second only to a Grand Wizard in terms of magical ability. “The senile old men at the Academy wanted to get rid of me. In case you didn’t know, I am the first official female Mage in about three hundred years. Many of the wizards that reside there don’t think too highly of me, either from me spurning their advances, or surpassing them in tests and experiments.” Her lips had curled up in an expression of disgust. “You have no idea how hard I had to work to even be graded on equal terms to the other students, but I did it, only to be sent here.” She waved her hands at the room around her in indignation.
“No doubt they thought to either send me on a goose chase, or perhaps hope I would find the wizard, only to be blasted into rather small, easily packaged pieces. Either way, I would be out of their hair, but I intend to show them up. I will succeed just like I did against every other thing they threw at me.” Her eyes had flashed in her determination, and for a brief moment Marcius felt sorry for the poor fools at the Academy.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I arrived here with only your father’s name as the last known contact to the wizard, so I asked around for any information that might be handy.” Her head tilted to the side, the bronze hair cascading over her ivory shoulder and her grin growing dangerously playful. Marcius's breath firmly lodged into his throat. “You would be surprised at the rumors I heard concerning you, Marc.” Her voice took on a teasing tone.
Marcius refused to be baited, realizing he was quickly losing control of the conversation. “Well now, rumors they may be, but we didn’t come here to discuss what people whisper in darkened alleys.”
She raised an eyebrow and a trace of amusement flickered across her face, “Ah but it does, it has a lot to do with how I treated you yesterday. You see, I befriended a noble woman, who was happy to share the many tales circulating about the various people of this town.” Her lips pursed together. “Perhaps too eager, I had a devil of a time guiding her to what your family was like. She painted your father as a gruff man who stumbled into wealth. Someone who had no bearing on what it was like to be among the upper class. The embroidery of you was a bit more personal it seemed.”
Despite himself, Marcius found he was leaning on her every word. Not only was her slight northern accent hypnotic, but he often did not hear the first hand rumors about himself. “Apparently you are a selfish rake, who has no courtesy or interest in what proper people of your financial stature should be doing. A brigand who has an ongoing bet to bed as many women as possible while frequenting any seedy taverns encountered on the side. You are a man not to be trusted.”
Marcius digested the information and discovered he wasn’t overly surprised. He could easily see how his detached manner would put off many of the nobles, particularly the few suitors he had rejected. He didn’t consider himself an overly handsome man, but no doubt his new found family wealth helped to smooth over the few flaws.
He couldn’t stand the attitude most nobles seemed to wallow in like pigs to mud. And he hated the gratuitous rituals one had to go through to merely talk without offending someone. Marcius blamed that line of thought on the upbringing his father gave him. Lian had been adamant about teaching his young son to look beyond the facade that seemed to saturate the noble lifestyle. “We might be at the same status as them,” his father had always said, “But at heart, we will always be outsiders. Lesser beings in their eyes. Let them keep their parading ways, for we can see them for what they really are.”
“So how much of what I said is true, Marc?” her voice startled him out of his reverie. Her voice had a slight hinting tone to it, as if there was more than one way to interpret her question.
“ Very little of it, most of it probably stems from an incident when I escorted a client’s daughter around town. She’s one of those people who wanted to see everything, including several seedy taverns. Throw in a few nosy nobles and you’ve got the source of your rumors. I do agree with the part about me doing many things not becoming a person of my stature, because, for some reason, I don’t find spending most of my time pretending to be interested in other stuffy nobles during one of their stuffy parties very interesting,” he mimicked the tones she had used to describe her own teachers.
To Marcius’s surprise, she let out a rather girly giggle at the statement, her hand clamped over her mouth in a somewhat flimsy attempt to contain her amusement. She looked much better when she smiled, and he wished she would do it more often.
“I feel your pain. Not much better at the Academy. Anyway, before we had digressed, the noble woman’s account did not cast a favorable light upon you. So when I felt myself sufficiently armed with information, I bluffed my way into your father’s presence, and then asked a few questions. The thing that threw me off was how quick he was to give honest answers. And then you came up, the supposed apprentice to an Arch Magus, a position that would be highly desirable at the Academy. I felt rather indignant to say the least.”
“What made you change your mind?” It was time to take control of the direction of this encounter. He let her lead long enough.
“Your bold statement after my appraisal of the Arch Magus’s judgment. It’s been a long time since anyone had treated me as an equal. Most nobles that I have known would have sputtered at the breach of etiquette, and then had me thrown out. Or they would have just taken the abuse for fear of breaching etiquette themselves. Perhaps I have been among the company of other wizards for too long, but I found the verbal jousting refreshing. It was nice to run into a noble who didn’t play the games that typically run their lives.”
Marcius’s heart skipped a few beats at the compliment. The look of respect on her face seemed genuine. “So what is it that you want of me?”
She took a shallow breath and visibly steeled herself. “Well, I am to get your Master to sign a magical contract, saying that he won’t do any brazen breaches of magic. That is the main reason we look down upon rogue wizards. They have a penchant for flaunting their power, often hazardously. It makes all magic users look bad, so if you could at least talk to him, convince him to not blow me into little pieces, it would be much appreciated. If I could return to Aralene with these papers signed, I would be out of your hair within the week.”
She stood up and walked to the desk behind Marcius, pulling out what he could only presume was the contract. She then retrieved her seat on her bed, making a show of inspecting the papers.
Marcius let loose a deep sigh of relief. That didn’t seem too hard, but a thought occurred to him, something that made his blood tingle in alarm. His eyes creased and he threw what he hoped was a hard, pointed stare at the still distractingly attractive women in front of him. “How do I know you’re just not using m
e to find out where he is? Then get a mob of wizards from the Academy to take him out or something like that? Throw a few compliments, wear a garish outfit, and hope the dumb apprentice takes the bait?”
“I could have just cast watcher spells on you if I wanted to do that, Marc. I wouldn’t have talked to you directly. Plus, you already admitted to being his apprentice. An action, if I was an inquisitor, which would allow me to take you in and punish you for practicing magic without permission from the Academy. I’m not here to punish you or your master. The Academy has been moving toward acceptance and trying to get people not to view us, and magic, in such a negative light.”
Chastened, he mumbled an apology, which she promptly waved away. “No need. You have every right to be suspicious. Just talk to him, please. I would be most grateful.”
“I’ll do what I can. I can’t promise you anything. I must say it feels weird that you came all this way to get a piece of paper signed. . . even it is magical. Now, if I may take my leave, I’ve a rather early morning appointment tomorrow. But before I go, may I ask a favor? A test of faith per say?”
She raised an eyebrow, “Let me see your familiar before I go.”
The look on her face turned stiff, but gradually grew softer, “Alright, but this is a major leap of faith,” she said after a few agonizing moments.
A black as coal raven suddenly fluttered to her soft ashen shoulder, he regarded Marcius imperially with blood red eyes before quickly vanishing into thin air again with a shrill squawk. “Satisfied?”
A little taken aback by the speed of the encounter with the familiar, Marcius simply nodded. He stood up, stretching a bit to get the feeling back into his legs and backside. He paused at the door. “Good night, Alicia, I wi-.”
A hand stopped him as he turned; she was unexpectedly close to him, face to face. He hadn’t even heard her move. She had to crane her neck to look at him since he was taller. Her teeth met behind her parted lips as she considered him, head askew, eyes black in the shade of the doorway.
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 5