The Sorcerer's Widow

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Yes,” Kel answered, slightly puzzled at Dorna’s obvious annoyance. “That’s not illegal. Ethshar is full of dangerous magic.”

  “Oh,” Dorna said. She straightened up and looked at the soldier, who smiled cheerfully at her. “Then what is illegal?”

  “Swords, if you don’t have a permit,” Kel answered. “Unlicensed oushka in anything bigger than a bottle. Baby dragons. Poisonous fruit. Things like that.”

  “Listen to your friend,” the guardsman said, grinning and shifting his weight to lean on his spear. “Sounds like he knows the rules.”

  “Oh,” Dorna said again.

  “There are rules about magic, but we don’t handle those,” the soldier explained. “That’s up to the magicians. If you’ve got forbidden wizardry, the Wizards’ Guild will let you know; if it’s bad witchcraft, the Sisterhood will talk to you. Sorcery, I’m not sure who looks after that, or if there really are any rules. It’s not my concern.”

  “I see.”

  “So, what else do you have in that wagon, besides sorcery?” the guardsman asked. “Anything we should know about?”

  Dorna shook her head. “It’s all sorcery,” she said. “Everything else is in my friend’s wagon.” She pointed at Irien, who was talking to another soldier.

  The guardsman straightened, picked up his spear, and pointed it past Dorna at her magical cargo. “All sorcery? That whole big wagon?”

  “That’s right.”

  The soldier frowned, then called, “Amdis, bring a friend!”

  A moment later another soldier trotted up, spear in hand, and made a hasty bow. “Amdis of Cutler Street,” he said. “I’ll be escorting you. Do you know where you’re going?”

  He was smaller and younger than the first guardsman, though still bigger than either Dorna or Kel. Dorna glanced at Kel as the soldier who had originally interrogated them gave them a parting wave and moved on, leaving them in Amdis’ care.

  “No,” Kel said.

  “What is it you’re carrying?” Amdis asked.

  “Sorcery,” Kel said. “A lot of sorcery.”

  “No wonder the sergeant thought you needed an escort. You’re a sorcerer?”

  “No,” Kel said.

  “My husband was,” Dorna replied.

  “But you aren’t?”

  “No. He died, and I inherited his magic, and I’ve come to sell it.”

  “Ah,” Amdis said. “Do you want to store it in the city vaults until you find a place?”

  Dorna looked at Kel. “Can we do that?”

  Kel turned up an empty hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never had anything worth guarding.”

  “There’s a fee,” Amdis explained. “If you want to pay a little extra, the guards will be especially careful.”

  “Does that apply to our escort, as well?” Dorna asked.

  Amdis spread empty hands. “I wouldn’t mind a few extra bits. But I’ll do my job either way. It’s not required.”

  “The vaults aren’t required either, are they?”

  “No,” Amdis admitted. “But honestly, unless you have protective spells on the wagon, I’d recommend using them. If you really have an entire wagon full of sorcery—well, do you have protective spells? You said you aren’t a sorcerer; are you a wizard, or anything?”

  “No,” Dorna acknowledged. “And the protective spells—well, they aren’t very effective.” She glanced at Kel, who said nothing. He remembered the screaming talisman back in Shepherd’s Well; he doubted that would discourage most of the thieves here in the city.

  “Then I’d recommend the vaults.”

  Another soldier strode up just as Dorna asked, “Where are they?”

  Amdis turned and pointed. “Under the north tower,” he said.

  “Here in Grandgate?”

  “Sure. After all, it’s mostly people going in and out of the city who need them.”

  That seemed to convince her, and twenty minutes later Kel, Dorna, Irien, and half a dozen soldiers were rolling the wagon down a ramp into an iron-lined stone vault, one of a row cut into the foundations of the immense north tower. The oxen had been switched to Irien’s wagon and were waiting patiently on the street above, with yet another soldier watching them.

  The lock that secured the vault door used three keys; two stayed with the tower’s staff, and Dorna was given the third. She was offered the option of paying a wizard to put a sealing rune of one sort or another on the vault, as well, but she turned that down; quite aside from professional pride making her reluctant to use any magic other than sorcery, it would have added at least a round of silver to the price. The fee for the vault itself seemed quite reasonable—a mere six bits a day.

  Filling out the paperwork took longer than getting the wagon in the vault, but an hour after arriving at the gate the three of them—Dorna, Irien, and Kel—were squeezed onto the driver’s bench of Irien’s wagon, rolling south on Wall Street and looking for a suitable inn.

  Or rather, Irien was looking for a suitable inn. Dorna had her tracking talisman in hand, and was fiddling with it. She had kept that and the black weapon; Kel was unsure whether she had taken any other sorcery from her wagon.

  “There’s too much other magic here,” she said. “It’s getting confused.”

  “It can wait,” Irien said. “What about that one?” She pointed at a signboard on a side-street, a few doors from Wall Street.

  Kel leaned over and saw a the sign in question; it depicted three feathers above the words “Food—Drink—Lodging.”

  “I don’t know it,” he said.

  Irien glanced at him. “I thought you used to steal purses in taverns.”

  Kel had almost never stolen entire purses, especially not in taverns, but he did not bother correcting her; he merely said, “Not that one. It’s too close to the Grandgate barracks.”

  “That sounds like a recommendation to me.”

  Kel turned up an empty palm.

  “Good enough,” Irien said. She tugged the reins to turn the oxen.

  “What? No, wait!” Dorna protested, looking up from her talisman. “My bag is that way!” She pointed directly down Wall Street.

  “The inn is that way,” Irien replied. “I think we need to arrange lodging before we do anything else.”

  “No!” Dorna said. “No, I could lose him.”

  “Couldn’t Kel find him for you?”

  Kel ducked at the suggestion. Dorna barely glanced at him as she said, “Not before he sells my talismans!”

  Kel thought she was over-estimating Ezak’s ability to fence magic, but did not say so.

  “Dorna, I am not going to drive this wagon halfway across the city through these streets! Look at them!” She waved an arm to take in their surroundings.

  Kel looked around.

  This was Grandgate, not his home territory, but it was still reassuringly familiar. To their left was the Wall Street Field, where no permanent structures were permitted; this particular stretch held no structures at all because it was too close to Grandgate and the guard barracks, and therefore had soldiers traipsing across it at all hours, discouraging the erection of tents or other temporary shelters. To their right were houses, shops, and taverns, mostly catering to a military clientele—vintners, armorers, gaming halls, and the like. Behind them on the left, just beyond Wall Street Field, rose the immense north tower; ahead on the left, beyond the field, was the inner gatehouse. Directly ahead of them, past the gatehouse, was the broad open expanse of Grandgate Market, jammed with carts, market stalls, farmers, merchants, and customers. It all smelled of smoke and sweat and dirt, and the sounds of footsteps and calling voices and rattling wheels filled the air. None of it looked at all out of the ordinary to Kel.

  There were hundreds of people in sight, going about their business. Dozens of them were driving various carts or wagons. Kel was not quite sure what Irien found so unappealing about driving here, but then, she was from a tiny village; maybe this was too crowded for her.

  �
�Fine,” Dorna said. “Stop here, then, and Kel and I will go on on foot. It’ll probably be faster anyway.”

  “But…I don’t…” Irien said.

  “You book us a room at that inn you like, and take care of the wagon, and we’ll find you there later.”

  “Dorna, I—”

  “Go on!” She looked up from her talisman long enough to spot the signboard. “The Three Feathers, across from the tower where the vaults are. We’ll find it.” She stood up, a trifle unsteadily, while the vehicle was still moving.

  Irien halted the oxen and watched unhappily as Dorna awkwardly climbed down—awkwardly, because she was keeping her talisman in hand and in sight the entire time.

  Kel hesitated.

  “Come on, Kel,” Dorna called, her gaze still focused on her magical guide. “I may need you. You know the city, and I don’t.”

  Kel hurried to the step, but just before he leapt to the ground he turned back to Irien and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Then he was following Dorna at a trot, south through Grandgate Market, as Irien drove the wagon into the side-street.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  From Grandgate Market Dorna led the way down Soldiertown Street, then hesitated where Barracks Street forked off to the left. She looked at Kel. He pointed to the right, and they continued down Soldiertown, drawing curious glances from passersby.

  As they continued almost due south through Soldiertown, Dorna grew steadily more agitated. Finally she stopped, and looked around wildly.

  “We’re going the wrong way!” she said. “He’s in that direction!” She pointed ahead and to the left.

  “He’s probably somewhere in Smallgate,” Kel said, nodding.

  “But none of the streets go that direction!”

  “No, they don’t,” Kel agreed, puzzled.

  “Why not?”

  This question struck Kel as rather like asking why water is wet; the streets went where the streets went, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. “Most of the streets in Soldiertown go either north and south, or east and west,” he said. “Except for the alleys off Gambler Street, there aren’t any curves or diagonals between Whore Street and Smallgate.”

  She glared at him.

  “There are plenty of crooked streets in Smallgate,” Kel offered helpfully. “That’s how you’ll know when we’re in Smallgate, and not in Soldiertown anymore.”

  “Then how are we supposed to get to where Ezak has my things, if none of the streets go there?”

  “He’s probably somewhere in Smallgate,” Kel repeated.

  “Yes, but how do we get to Smallgate?”

  “Straight down Soldiertown to Midway Street is the easiest,” Kel said.

  “What’s the fastest?”

  “Oh, I don’t…I mean…” Kel looked around for a way to escape, but Dorna grabbed his shoulder.

  “Show me,” she demanded.

  Kel bit his lower lip, then nodded. “This way,” he said.

  They turned left on Gambler Street, then right on Cheaters’ Alley, where Kel popped the hidden latch on Bennimin the Lender’s back gate, so they could cut through a nameless courtyard, ducking under a clothesline and then out a smoke-blackened passage to emerge on Armorer Street, which they followed four blocks further south, past homes and second-hand shops and a tinker’s workshop—the actual armorers were all further to the north. A dry culvert, another courtyard, and another narrow nameless alley brought them to Archer Street, where Dorna’s talisman indicated their target was now almost directly south of them, straight down the road, less than half a mile away; the sorcerer’s widow was visibly relieved by this discovery. “It’s a good thing we left the wagon with Irien,” she said, glancing back at the route they had followed. “But it’s straight from here.” She smiled.

  Kel was not quite so cheerful about it. He was somewhat surprised they had not encountered any real obstacles or hazards yet—the shortcuts they had used were not always so cooperative. He knew that “straight” did not always mean “easy,” and in fact their route probably wasn’t going to be straight at all. Archer Street ended at Smallgate Street, just north of a tangle of alleys and byways that Dorna would probably find incomprehensible—not to mention dangerous. That was Kel’s home neighborhood, and where he thought they were likely to find Ezak, but the prospect of bringing a woman there, a small woman who did not know the city or its customs and who did not look at all intimidating, did not appeal to him. She did have her magical weapon, but the people most likely to jump her might not recognize it as a weapon at all. Her only visible protection would be Kel, and Kel did not think his presence was going to seriously deter anyone—especially after dark, and the afternoon shadows were lengthening ominously. As he watched, he saw a woman in a gauzy red skirt step out to light the lantern above her elaborately-painted door.

  Dorna looked at her talisman, ignoring the locals. “There’s something over that way that’s interfering,” she said, pointing to the west.

  “Wizard Street is about eight blocks in that direction,” Kel said.

  “That would account for it,” she acknowledged.

  They marched on, past Uncle Vezalis’ house; Kel did not point it out, and the talisman apparently did not react to it. Ten minutes after emerging from the alley they reached the intersection of Archer and Smallgate, where Archer Street ended. Dorna stared at the tenement ahead of them as if its existence was a personal affront, then looked down at the talisman. “It’s still pointing straight ahead,” she said. “About…two hundred yards, maybe?”

  Kel nodded. “This way,” he said, turning right.

  Dorna reluctantly followed, keeping an eye on the talisman and glancing now and then at the two- and three-story buildings that lined the south side of Smallgate Street.

  “Smallgate Street doesn’t actually go to the gate,” Kel remarked, trying to distract her. “It ends at Wall Street maybe a quarter-mile from the gatehouse. It’s just called Smallgate Street because it leads straight from the Palace to the district of Smallgate. The only streets at the gate itself are Wall Street and Landsend Street.”

  “All right,” Dorna said, obviously not listening.

  Kel sighed. “This way,” he said, turning left into an alley.

  Dorna followed, still focused on the golden boot-heel as Kel led her around the corner into the shadowed passage. She was oblivious to their surroundings, trusting Kel and her sorcery to guide her.

  “Dorna?” Kel said, as they walked on.

  “Right,” she said, staring at the talisman.

  “Dorna!”

  She looked up, annoyed. “What?”

  “You might want to be less obvious about that thing you’re holding.”

  Dorna looked around, suddenly realizing that they were in a cramped, crooked alley between two buildings that had seen not merely better days, but better centuries. The plaster walls on either side were webbed with cracks and patches, and the patches themselves were cracked and patched—or sometimes not patched; wattle was exposed several places. The ground beneath their feet was packed garbage, not sand. The few windows within ten feet of the ground were tightly shuttered, or completely bricked up. The windows on the upper floors were more varied—open, closed, shuttered, barred, or broken—and she could see at least two pairs of eyes staring down at them from open casements. Little sunlight managed to find its way through the narrow gap between the roofs overhead. There were no other pedestrians in sight.

  “This isn’t a safe place for outsiders,” Kel said. “Or for anyone, really.”

  “Oh,” Dorna said. Instead of putting the talisman out of sight, though, as Kel had hoped she would, she merely switched it to her other hand and drew the black weapon from her belt and held that ready.

  “It’s going to get worse,” Kel said.

  She threw him a glance. “Why? Isn’t there a safer route?”

  “To where we usually live when Ezak’s uncle won’t let us in? No.”

  “No?”r />
  “We needed a place so bad slavers wouldn’t come in and catch us while we were sleeping.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then said, “Oh.” She looked around the alley again. “How do you know he isn’t at his uncle’s house?”

  “Because we went right past it, and your magic didn’t point at it.”

  Dorna looked at her talisman, then at Kel. “We did?”

  Kel nodded. “Uncle Vezalis lives back on Archer Street,” he said, pointing back the way they had come. “A block north of Smallgate Street. I don’t think Ezak would trust his uncle with stolen magic in the house.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think I know where Ezak is, though.”

  “Go on, then,” she said, gesturing with the weapon.

  Kel went, leading the way through a broken gate at the back of the alley, across a shadowy courtyard that stank of things Kel did not care to think about, along a stretch of alleyway that had been walled off and no longer connected to any other streets, through the ruins of a building where the roof had fallen in years earlier, along another alley, and then down a set of steep steps into a dim, damp, stone-walled tunnel. The sandy floor squashed wetly beneath their feet.

  Now that she had been alerted to the situation, Dorna grew more apprehensive as this journey through the maze of Smallgate wound on; in that first alley at least the eyes watching them from those upstairs windows had been human. By the time they crossed the ruin the only living creatures she saw were rats and spiders, and the rats were bolder than any she had ever encountered, staring at her, making no move to hide or flee.

  “How can a place like this exist in Ethshar?” she whispered, as she ducked into the tunnel. “A place this deserted and decrepit?”

  Kel looked back at her, startled. “It can’t all be palaces,” he said.

  “I know that, but this…”

  “We wanted a place the slavers couldn’t get us,” Kel said. “Somewhere with more privacy than the Wall Street Field.”

  “Well, you found that,” Dorna said.

  They were far enough into the tunnel now that the only faint light came from her gently glowing talisman. Kel was feeling his way along one wall; then he stopped, and whispered, “What does your sorcery say?”