A History of Magic

by Scott J Robinson

  “Yes, you are. And you have more chance of working this out than anyone else.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Travis shrugged. “Then retire and never leave the Rest because life is full of problems and you are not the type of person to stand by and watch. And speaking of retiring and moving on, Maris was here earlier.” Travis got a pie and dumped it unceremoniously on the desk as well. “I think she likes the attention she gets because of all the time she spends with you.”

  “I know.” Rawk rolled his eyes. He was happy to change the subject, but Maris would not have been his first choice.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  Travis didn’t say anything.

  “It’s just...” Rawk sighed. “At first she was all, like, ‘That whole Hero thing doesn’t impress me.’“

  “And now?”

  “Well, she saw me doing my thing yesterday morning and half an hour later we were rutting in the back room of a cafe.”

  “A cafe?”

  “She knows the manager. I put a finger in a tart.”

  “I wouldn’t call her that to her face, if I were you.”

  “No, a lemon tart.”

  “I’m not sure that’s any better. How was it?”

  “I didn’t try it. Maris did though.”

  “Not the tart. How was the sex?”

  Rawk shrugged. “The same as usual. I thought it should feel different, after waiting so long.”

  Travis looked up at him. “That was the first time you had sex with her? It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

  “Barely a week. Eight days. Look, the point is, for all her claims when we met, in the end she was just the same as all the others. She’s all over me now. “

  “So, let me get this straight. You are having problems because you’re beginning to think that all Maris is interested in is sex?”

  “And, she doesn’t like music. At all. And she drinks. A lot.”

  “You’re getting too much sex?”

  “If I just want sex I can get that lots of places without all the complications.”

  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It sounds like you need to break up with her.”

  “What?”

  “You need to end the relationship.”

  “What relationship? We’ve only seen each other a couple of times.”

  Travis just looked at him.

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Because you’re a coward? Or because you want to keep seeing her?”

  “What was the third option again?”

  “The longer you keep seeing her the harder it will be. She could be five minutes away from saying she loves you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “She doesn’t love me.”

  “Because you’re the expert on that subject, right.”

  “I know what love is,” Rawk said. But he regularly encouraged the belief that he wasn’t interested in love. And he wasn’t, for the most part. Love led to all sorts of complications. Love led to pain. Love died, or was killed by startled thieves, and didn’t come back. But some people were crazy. Maybe Maris did love him. Or maybe she thought she did, which was the same thing in the end.

  “She said she was coming back later, so you can ask if she loves you then. Between all the unsatisfying sex.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Travis laughed. “I doubt there will be anything much at all in your mind.”

  “Go away. And don’t send her down here when she arrives.”

  Rawk stayed where he was for a long time after Travis left the room. But it would never last. It couldn’t last. He didn’t believe that he had more chance of solving the problem than anyone else, but he didn’t want to take that chance.

  So he pushed himself to his feet and went to examine the row of books on the shelf, running the tips of his fingers along the rough, cracking leather of the covers. There were ten of them now, so Travis had obviously been shopping, but it still wasn’t really a library. He read some of the titles, but one was as likely as the next, so he picked something at random and went back to sit down. For a while, he just held the book in his hand and breathed in the scent of it. He’d never noticed the smell of books before; he’d never really spent enough time in their company to get the chance. It smelled old. And of other places. He didn’t know exactly which other places, and wondered if the other books would smell different. Did the type of paper make a difference? The type of leather? Or perhaps, in books about magic at least, there may be other factors involved. Sighing, he opened the cover. When his eyes focused he discovered there was a chapter about ohoga portals. “Huh.”

  He found the page, took a sip of tea, and read slowly, as if he might otherwise miss an important detail. And part way down the first page he found something.

  “Not only are ohoga portals created by sounds— with specific sounds required depending on both the location of sorcerer and the intended target realm— but part of their physical fabric is also sound. Like any sound created by men, the ‘voice’ of the sorcerer will form an integral part as well. If you know how to listen, you will know who did the work.”

  Opok had mentioned something about songs and hearing, but Rawk probably hadn’t been listening to the details at that point. Which was kind of ironic.

  But, apparently all he needed was someone who knew how to listen. Easy. He had read the entire chapter about Ohoga portals and moved on to another random book by the time Travis came to tell him that Maris had arrived.

  Faraday

  Rawk sat on the edge of the bed cataloging his aches and pains. He hadn’t been rubbing Sylvia’s cream onto his knee and decided that today was the day he was going to start to regret it. The wound on his forearm, courtesy of the duen’s pet wolf, Kaj, was all but healed. The one on his shoulder, from the other duen’s giant mace, still sent fingers of pain along his nerves if he moved the wrong way. Sylvia wasn’t sure if that would ever go away completely. He sighed and closed his eyes.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  He turned to look at Maris, curled up under the sheets. “I’ve got things to do today.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “I’ve got to talk business with a couple of people.”

  “Business? The Hero business?”

  Rawk gave her a smile that he didn’t feel. “Something like that.” He turned back around and started stretching. It was too long since he’d done any exercise at all, apart from being a Hero in busy times.

  “If things keep going the way they are going you should be able to move out of here soon enough.”

  “What’s wrong with this place?”

  “One small room? A man like you should have more than this.”

  “A man like me?”

  “If you were just a little bit more careful with your money...”

  Maybe the tension showed in the muscles of his back. He wasn’t looking at her, but she trailed away as if realizing she was saying the wrong thing.

  Rawk rubbed his arm and closed his eyes. “I’m going to be busy all day. Maybe we could meet at the Club for dinner then go to the Armory?”

  “You want to watch the dwarf again?”

  “Grint, yes. And Celeste. And not watching so much as listening.”

  “Can we do something else?”

  “How about we catch up tomorrow then? We can have lunch.”

  “Very well. I can see my sister, tonight, I suppose.”

  Rawk turned to watch as Maris stalked naked around the room collecting her clothes. She piled them on the chair and started to dress.

  “I think I had to much to drink last night,” she said. She combed her hair away from her face with her fingers.

  Rawk nodded. “You drank a lot.” He’d drowned more than usual as well, which wasn’t hard, but hadn’t bothered trying to keep up.

  Fully clothed, Maris fel
l back onto the bed. “Do I really need to go to work?”

  “I think so, but you know more about it than I do.”

  “I could stay here.” She took Rawk’s hand in hers.

  “You might get a bit bored on your own.”

  “I meant you could stay too.”

  “Like I said, I’ve got things to do.”

  “There are Heroes everywhere in Katamood theses days; surely they can handle a few exots for you.”

  Rawk turned to look at her. He couldn’t believe that people honestly thought the only thing he did in his life was chase exots. That was another assumption he encouraged, but he didn’t know why anyone believed him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  Maris groaned and she rose to her feet. She kissed him on the lips and hurried out the door.

  When she was gone, Rawk carefully stretched his shoulders and his arms, wincing at the pain, and decided it was about time he did some exercise. Too many injuries recently had hampered any efforts to make it into the gymna. He collected his clothes and slipped behind the priceless water-nymph tapestry and through the door it hid. Beyond was a short hall with three doors. The one at the end led to the private stairs that would take him down to the basement. The closest led to the shower room the dwarves had built. He went to the final door and it felt like months since he’d been there. And counting, he realized it had been more than three weeks. Not months, then, but too long.

  He pulled on his underwear, then did some serious stretching. Ten minutes later, he lay down on the bench, took up a small weight in each hand and started to lift.

  After a couple of repetitions he was wondering if a man’s arms could just fall off. He kept going, grunting with the effort and sweating so much he was going to need a shower afterwards. He tried to solve the problem of the exots to keep his mind busy while his body worked through the pain.

  When Travis walked in a while later, Rawk was sitting on a stool, hunched over and breathing heavily.

  “I saw Maris leaving,” Travis said. “I think everyone did. She made sure of it.”

  “Shut up and go hire me some Heroes.”

  Travis’ brow furrowed as he gave that some thought. “Do you want back up for when you break up with Maris?”

  “No. I was just thinking, I can’t keep up with the exots; they’re everywhere. And all the Heroes are gathered around the docks and a couple of the bigger taverns so it’s complete luck if any of them are anywhere near an exot when it arrives. That dwarf work gang had to kill that big mean bugger because there was nobody else to do it.”

  “So you want to hire some Heroes?”

  “Exactly. I knew you’d like the idea. Hire them by the week then pick a spot for them and spread them around the city in the places Heroes don’t usual hang out.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “So, a thousand ithel a week to stand where we tell them and look out for trouble. And then I get 20 percent off the top of any claim.”

  “Really?”

  “Look, hopefully I can get this all sorted out in a week and it won’t matter. Ten thousand ithel won’t make any difference.”

  Travis raised his eyebrows. He almost choked. “You want to hire ten of them? Ten thousand ithel won’t make any difference? The Rest doesn’t make that much money. And the pile of gold down stairs is slowly shrinking.”

  “Very slowly, and these day I can make a fortune killing exots.”

  “But still... Ten thousand ithel a week? I don’t know—”

  “I have other streams of income, Travis.”

  “That sounds like something Yardi would say.”

  “It is.”

  “Ten thousand ithel?”

  “Yes.”

  “So... Wait...” Travis’ mouth dropped open this time. He had a whole range of ‘shocked’. “You own Keeto Alata, don’t you? One of the biggest trading companies in the world.”

  Rawk winced. Yardi was the only other person who knew. “Maybe.”

  “Holy Path. You’ve got to be worth... Is there even a number big enough?”

  “I’m not worth that much. I do have to pay you, after all. And Yardi isn’t cheap either.”

  “I’ll take that pay rise.”

  “I’m sure you will. Organize the Heroes for me first would you? I have some other things to do.”

  “Oh, that’s right’s, Weaver—”

  “No.” Rawk shook his head. “Definitely not.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not having lunch with Weaver again.”

  Travis shrugged. “I couldn’t care less. I’m just passing on the message.” He gave the alias and the name of the tavern.

  Rawk sighed. “Well, I need breakfast and a cup of tea before I can face the thought of lunch. Maybe a whole pot.”

  -O-

  Rawk crossed over Dragon Bridge. After the fish and garbage smell of the river, the low-grade industrial stench on the southern side was a welcome relief.

  “Hello, Mister Rawk.” Clinker was sitting with his back against a light post. His short legs were stretched out in the narrow strip of shade.

  “Hello, Clinker.”

  “Are you going to see Sylvia again?” The dwarf boy had his satchel open on his lap, as if he’d just been searching through the contents.

  Rawk looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention to him. “I am.”

  “I can show you the way, if you like.” He scratched at his wild, knife-cut red hair.

  “I already know the way.”

  Clinker smiled. “They opened a new tunnel under the canal yesterday. Only for people who is walking though.”

  “I’m sure I can manage.” He was edging towards the cover of the buildings, though it was mainly dwarves around the area and he didn’t really care what they thought.

  But Clinker jumped to his feet and knotted the string to keep his bag closed. “Come on.”

  Rawk sighed and followed the boy. He wondered if Sylvia was right. She thought that dwarves and elves were just humans, like any of the races, but had separated further in the past. Sometimes he thought she was crazy. And if dwarves and elves were just distant humans, what of the other humanoid creatures that could breed with humans? What of trolls, zorigami and moai? Were they just humans too? He didn’t want them to be. Dwarves looked at life from a completely different angle. And he didn’t just mean lower down. And trolls were not much more than animals most of the time. Big, fast, strong, cunning animals who could kill you in a dozen different ways before breakfast.

  “Your bag is much quieter than last time,” Rawk said to Clinker as they continued to head away from the river.

  The boy looked back and smiled. “Thacker’s men paid me for cleaning some graffiti off a wall. It was one of those Words of Wisdom things. I think it said, ‘Time only heals wounds if you remove the infection first’.”

  Rawk raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe. I might have gotten some of the words wrong.”

  “You can read?”

  “Yes. Sometimes. A bit. Kikum helped.” The look on his face suggested he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “And removing the graffiti made your bag quieter?”

  “I bought a blanket. Winter will be here soon.”

  “So it will.”

  They made their way to a large open area that looked as if it might have once been a park. Now it was hardly more than a churned up mess. There was a small, stone building in one corner that was as clean and shiny as a new sword.

  “The tunnel’s in there.”

  Rawk had worked that out for himself. Why did children, of all races, always find it necessary to point out the obvious? The rune carved building certainly wasn’t big enough to hold all the people that were coming and going out the two large doorways. It was dwarves mainly, but fermi and elves and normal people as well, moved in slow, noisy clumps and muttering lines.

  “There used to be lots of flowers in the park,” Clinker said. He wrinkled
his nose. “It smelled horrible.”

  “What happened?”

  “This is where they had the riot.”

  Rawk grunted, wondering exactly what everyone thought Weaver should do. The exots weren’t his fault and the City Guard and the Heroes were doing what they could. “Come on.”

  But he made his way past the building and stopped at the fence beyond. The end of the canal wasn’t very far away at all, filled with a swarm of dwarves. Rawk recognized all their tools, and could even name a lot of them, but there were also a handful of large buildings that were the source of a lot of noise. Clatter and clank, crash and crack. Maybe, inside, dwarves were scratching a hole in the fabric of the universe to let exots through. Except Opok had said magic was involved and dwarves could not do magic. Rawk sighed. His life would never be that easy.

  Smoke poured from the chimneys, so maybe they were just the lunchrooms with cooks working overtime.

  “It won’t be long now,” Clinker said, clinging to the fence. “A couple of weeks is all.”

  Rawk looked to the left. He could see the other stub of the canal. It seemed nothing more than the width of a road divided them. A road filled with more dwarves working at strange contraptions.

  “According to who?”

  “That’s what Thacker says.”

  A couple of weeks to go twenty yards through the solid stone. He knew how they felt.

  Rawk went back to the tunnel entrance and followed a flow of people down the stairs. A waist high fence kept the two lines of traffic separated. Hissing gas lamps down the middle threw long fuzzy-edged shadows, and made the air taste thick. The hot, heavy space was packed with people going one way or the other, grumbling and talking quietly.

  An oak tree dominated the square on the far side, spreading its branches over the ancient cobbles. There were tents and ramshackle buildings that looked like they could fall down at any moment. Some of them already had fallen down and were carefully being rebuilt with makeshift tools and much-used rope. The whole place groaned and creaked in the breeze like the Old Forest.

  “What’s going on here?” Rawk wasn’t sure how the flowers on the other side of the canal had smelt, but it couldn’t have been any worse than this. “Are these refugees? Is there a war I don’t know about?”