A History of Magic

by Scott J Robinson

  “But...”

  “That is correct; it should not be possible. But even worse, the bacon is then apparently cooking later on, without the repetition of the spell.”

  “So there is cold, self-heating bacon somewhere in Katamood?”

  Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you know what a metaphor is.”

  “Does it still get crispy edges?” he said, just to annoy her.

  “You are impossible, Rawk.”

  Rawk took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All right, but tell me, seriously, I assume you need something to hold all this restrained magic bacon.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “So are we talking an item or a person? Is it something we can break to release the magic?”

  Sylvia looked at Opok. The duen shrugged. “There is much power. I be knowing of no talisman that could hold enough for even one portal, though the magic practiced here be much greater than what I have known.”

  “What about a person, then?”

  Opok looked Rawk in the eye for long seconds. “I be hoping not.”

  Rawk listened as Sylvia and Opok debated bacon and magic around in circles. He could follow almost not of it and in the end he didn’t even bother trying. He just waited until they were done, so he could lead the way back to Katamood.

  -O-

  “Where are we going, Rawk?”

  Rawk stopped at the corner, clutched in the creeping fingers of darkness that stretched out from the buildings, and looked back. “You don’t have to come, Sylvia. I want to show Biki.”

  “No, I will come.”

  “Then be quiet and wait. It isn’t far now anyway.”

  He found the address that Weaver had given him and pulled a small collection of keys from his pocket. He searched through them for a moment before finding the right one. The door opened easily, letting into a small, narrow hallway. Up one flight of creaking, narrow stairs with flaking plaster on the walls on both sides. There was another short hallway at the top with doors off either side. Rawk found the next key and let himself into room 12. It wasn’t very large, but it was tidy. There was a small, pot-bellied stove in the corner with a couple of cupboards nearby and a large copper dish for washing. There was a scarred timber table in the middle of the room and the bed, still covered with a coarse woolen blanket, half blocked a door that led out to a small balcony. It smelled musty.

  “Who lives here?” Biki asked.

  Rawk wandered around the room. There were some clothes in a chest at the foot of the bed. Mementos were crowded onto a shelf above. “It belonged to Galad, the man who is buried with your husband.”

  “Oh.”

  “You can stay here if you like.”

  “But...”

  “Galad had no family, so I claimed his things when he died.” Rawk shrugged. “It isn’t as if they were free; he’d barely started paying this place off.”

  Biki looked around, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I am living with Harper.”

  “The editor of the newspaper?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that isn’t a permanent thing, is it? No offense, but Harper would probably like to get his place back. You can’t stay there forever.” No offense? When had he ever been worried about offending a dwarf?

  “But I can’t afford to stay here. I only get a few hours of work every week.”

  Rawk cleared his throat and looked at Sylvia for a moment. She was staring at him, surprised look on her face. Rawk looked away. “Just pay what you can afford at the moment, if you feel the need to pay something. We can work the rest out later. And I might be able to help with the money thing anyway. You used to work in taverns, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, go up to the Hero’s Rest and talk to Travis.”

  “They won’t let me work up there.”

  “Tell him I sent you.”

  “I don’t know if I want to work up there.”

  Rawk shrugged. “It’s up to you; I’m not going to argue about it. Just think of your daughter.”

  “I am always thinking of my daughter.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean...” Rawk looked around. Sylvia was still staring. She seemed even more surprised than she had earlier. “Anyway, I’ve got a big day tomorrow, I imagine, so I should go.” He crossed the room and gripped the door handle.

  “Thank you, Rawk. It isn’t something I would expect from...”

  “From a human? From me?” Staring at the back of the door, he gave a small shake of the head. “I don’t suppose you would. I wouldn’t either.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If there’s stuff in here you don’t want, just sell it. Keep the money.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I don’t need it, Biki. I wouldn’t even notice the difference.” He started to open the door. “I will see you at the Rest tomorrow, Sylvia?”

  “Yes.”

  Tewsday

  Rawk hauled himself out of bed with a groan. Now he had all the aches and pains of his trek through the forest lying over the top of his usual complaints though he wasn’t sure where one lot ended and he other started. He almost wished for the numbness of the last couple of days. The unicorn wound on his chest was burning and he couldn’t even see it beneath Sylvia’s bandages. Travis handed him a cup of tea.

  “That’s the lorsie one?” Rawk said when he’d taken a sip. “What did you do to it?” He sat down on the chair and sighed as if he’d just finished another long walk.

  Travis smiled. “You said it was too bitter so I just added a little bit of honey.”

  “Well, it’s good.” He took another sip then put the cup down on the floor so he could pull on his boots. “How’s things going in the cellar?”

  “Well, most of the stuff is cleared out, thought the ostler’s yard isn’t looking so good.”

  “A great man once told me that tidying up isn’t just about moving the mess to a different place.”

  Travis ignored that. “Apparently the dwarves are ahead of schedule. There’s a hole in the wall out onto the street and they’ve dug about half way down to the cellar. They’ll finish the digging today and should be able to line the hole. Gabbo isn’t sure if they’ll get the stairs done though because he’s waiting on some bigger stone blocks to come from...” Travis’ brow furrowed as he tried to think. “Well, the location doesn’t really matter, I suppose.”

  Rawk nodded. “It’s going well, then?” He took up his cup again. It was still early in the morning, so he hadn’t made his way down for breakfast, but he was the tea was doing a great job of waking him up.

  Travis looked away.

  “What?”

  “Kalesie says that if she has to listen to one more dwarf song she’s going to have at them with a rolling pin.”

  “She’ll get over it.” He knelt on the floor and pulled the chest from beneath his bed.

  “You really think so? She says it’s going to take a week to get the smell out of her clothes.”

  Rawk winced.

  It was Travis’ turn to say, “What?”

  “A dwife is probably going to be coming around to talk about a job.” He started going through the weapons in the chest. But all he did was make a lot of noise without really seeing anything.

  “A job? At the Rest?”

  Rawk could almost see Travis readying his rolling pin. “Biki has worked in taverns before. Both in the tap-room and the kitchen.”

  “I think it’s a terrible idea, Rawk. Nobody wants to have a dwarf serving them their lunch. Or cooking it.”

  “Then they can go somewhere else.”

  “You’re willing to go broke because of a dwarf?”

  “Her husband was killed saving my life, Travis.”

  “And she’s going to kill your business.”

  “That won’t happen. I still live here. I still eat and drink here just about every day.” He finally saw the sword he was after and pulled it from amongst the mess.


  “What are you doing with that piece of rubbish? Where’s Dabaneera.”

  “Slade isn’t rubbish.” It was close though. He’d only kept it for sentimental reasons. He looked at the blade and wondered if he even had the energy to get it cleaned up properly. “And Dabaneera is in the Old Forest, marking the grave of a dwarf.”

  Travis was staring at the horrible blade as well. He sighed. “What’s this dwife’s name? Biki? Do I have to fire someone?”

  “Of course not. We’re going to need staff for the basement.”

  “Sylvia is down stairs again,” Travis said as he opened the door. “I’ll suppose you want me to let her sit in the taproom tomorrow.”

  “I doubt she’ll want to.”

  “There are better swords down stairs, you know. A whole room full of them.”

  Rawk watched Travis leave. He knew he was right, but sometimes that didn’t matter. For one thing, he didn’t want to walk down to the basement and then spend half an hour searching for a likely candidate. And secondly, the idea of Slade just felt right to him. He hefted the weapon again and made his way down stairs.

  -O-

  “Where do we start?” Rawk asked, looking up and down the street as if some brothels might appear in a nice orderly line. Most of the brothels he knew didn’t do anything at all in an orderly fashion.

  “Let us visit some of the cheaper places first,” Sylvia said.

  “Why?”

  “It will be cheaper to buy information there.”

  “Have you done this type of thing before?”

  Sylvia gave him a look. “I merely think about things before I act, Rawk. You should perhaps try it some time. Or are you on a first name basis with the madams so we can get the information for free?”

  “Oh, very funny. I’ll have you know it has been a long time since I’ve needed to know any of that type of woman.”

  “Well, I hope you brought some money then.”

  “This way.”

  Rawk might not have visited brothels but he spent enough time walking around the city that he knew where many of them were. The first was not far away, a few streets away from the main road that ran down the spine of Two Watch Hill. It didn’t look too bad from the outside. The exposed timber frames of the wall looked like they’d been painted just a week ago. The plaster between the fames was clean and smooth. There was a balcony on the second floor, presumably where the women could display themselves to the passers-by, but it was a bit early in the morning for that type of thing. The street was all but empty anyway, so they would have been wasting their time. A sign above the door, freshly painted too, gave the name, ‘The Birds and the Bees’.

  All the money and time had been spent improving the outside of the building. Inside hadn’t been painted for at least a decade. They’d probably left it that long because they’d first have to clean and that wasn’t on their list of things to do.

  “Is this cheap enough?” Rawk asked.

  Rawk thought Sylvia probably wrinkled her nose, but he couldn’t tell through her scarf.

  The sound of Rawk’s voice disturbed a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room. She twitched and snorted and blinked slowly towards consciousness. When she saw she had company she pushed herself to her feet and ran her fingers through her long, rat’s-nest hair. She smoothed what little clothing she was wearing and searched her arsenal for the right kind of smile. “Good morning to you, sir and madam. My name is Lapa.”

  Rawk nodded. “Good morning.”

  “Is that you Rawk? I never thought I’d see you in here.” Lapa smiled some more. “You’ve come to the right place though. You won’t find any establishment more discreet than ours.” She looked Sylvia up and down. “Will you be requiring just the one girl this morning? And we have special rooms available. I can offer discounts given the time and all.”

  “We don’t need any girls.”

  “Well, I don’t know where Gus is at the moment, but I’m sure I can find him.”

  Rawk was dubious that Gus even existed. It seemed to him that Lapa intended go out through the back door and enlist the services of the first man she found on the street.

  “No, Gus won’t be need either. We’re actually after information.”

  “That will cost you.”

  Rawk heard Sylvia mutter, “So much for discretion.” The sorceress was still looking around the room in distaste, probably cataloguing diseases.

  “We can pay.”

  “How much?”

  “Depends what you have to say. We are looking for a one armed elf woman.”

  Lapa sniffed, then shook her head. “Not seen anyone like that ‘round here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Not likely I’d forget that.”

  “You see everyone who comes through?”

  “Everyone.”

  Rawk fished a five-ithel coin from the pouch on his belt and handed it over. “You know how to find me if you see a one armed elf.”

  “Of course. But I’d better get more than five ithel if I do.”

  -O-

  Rawk stepped out of the door of the Purple Lavender and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It had been the worse than the other four they had visited, and if Falling Leaves was frequenting the place she would probably die of half a dozen diseases before they found her. He couldn’t believe any would-be customers would be brave enough to move beyond the stinking, cramped foyer. Sylvia still hadn’t come out and he was wondering if he needed to risk his life and mount a rescue. He didn’t get the chance to make the decision, either way.

  “Rawk!”

  Rawk looked around and saw a soldier striding towards him. “Waydin. Just the man I didn’t want to see.”

  “You think I’m thrilled to be out here looking for you? I’ve checked all your usual places.”

  “Well, next time check some unusual ones too.”

  Waydin looked at the Purple Lavender. “Unusual? I usually cross the street just so I don’t have to walk past the door of the Lavender. I didn’t know anyone ever actually went in there.”

  Rawk shrugged. “It’s cheap.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “And how would you know that, if you’ve never been in?”

  “Lunch.”

  “They serve food? I wouldn’t eat in there.”

  “With Weaver.”

  “Oh, right. Really?”

  “Yes. Today. At the Iron Clock over on Bay Road.”

  “Really? He couldn’t give me any more notice?”

  “I’ve been looking for you since the start of my shift.”

  “Tell him you didn’t find me.”

  The look on Waydin’s face suggested that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Tell him I’ve got syphilis. And gonorrhea.”

  “Now that I could believe.” Waydin glanced at the brothel again. “But Weaver pays my bills, so if he asks I’ll tell him I passed on the message. What you do with the information is up to you.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Just doing my job.” And he wandered away. Apparently his job didn’t need to be done quickly.

  Sylvia came out of the Purple Lavender. She partly unwrapped her scarf from about her face and took a deep breath. “I didn’t think he was ever going to leave.”

  “He’ll be back.”

  Sylvia looked a bit worried.

  “Not now. But some time. He always comes back.”

  “So are you going to lunch?”

  “Weaver doesn’t go away either.”

  “How could you possibly eat any more? You have visited more bakeries than brothels so far.”

  “Each bakery seems to have one special pastry that only they do. I don’t want to miss something.” Rawk looked around. “Maybe we can do one more before I have to go.”

  “One more?”

  “Brothel, not bakery.”

  “If we must.”

  They made their way around the side of the hill. Rawk avoided two stories a
nd a friendly young lady who was shopping for her mother before they found another brothel.

  The sign above the door announced, The Velvet Strumpet.

  Sylvia grunted and Rawk had to agree.

  “If there is one piece of velvet in this entire place, I’ll eat my hat,” he said.

  “You do not have a hat.”

  “Well, no. I had to eat it when Travis knitted me a pair of socks.”

  “Perhaps you should offer to eat your socks next time.”

  “Have you smelt my socks?”

  Sylvia raised an eyebrow.

  “Come on.”

  The Strumpet didn’t even have a verandah. The door led directly from the street into a long, dimly lit hallway. Timber frames were visible and the plaster between had been painted with all sort of suggestive designs. There were no doors for almost fifteen yards.

  “They probably just closed in a laneway,” Rawk said. He looked up at the ceiling but couldn’t see much. Sylvia was still walking so he hurried to catch up. When they finally reached the foyer, the light wasn’t any better. Neither was the artwork from what he could see.

  “This may be too cheap, even for Falling Leaves,” Sylvia said, looking around in disgust. “Well, we are here now, I suppose.”

  Maybe the dimness was a ploy so the customers couldn’t see what type of vermin were lurking in the corners. Or maybe it was so they couldn’t see the women. There were five of them in the room at the moment, though only two were likely to notice that anyone had entered. The others were entertaining themselves on a tattered divan in the corner. If it was for show, then it was a noisy show that Rawk really didn’t want to see.

  A few seconds passed and nobody came to talk, so Rawk cleared his throat loudly. Then he sighed and called out. “Ladies.” The two unoccupied women and one of the others turned to look but they didn’t really look interested. It was surprising any of them answered to ‘Ladies’. Eventually, Rawk went to the divan, grabbed the dress of the only woman who was dressed, and pulled her onto the floor.

  She shrieked and tried to bite Rawk’s leg. He gave her a bit of a kick and backed away.

  “What do you want?”