Company of Strangers, #1

by Melissa McShane

“As you told me the last time I suggested it,” Alaric said, “it’s heavy, it’s scratchy, and you never need it.” He drew his sword and strolled over to where Conn lay twitching, casually laying its edge against his throat. Conn stopped moving. “Now, where should we start?”

  “Please just let me go,” Perrin’s captive said. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Dianthe gasped and swiveled her head to look at him. “Padget?”

  His mouth fell open. “Dianthe? What are you—why did you kidnap me?”

  “We rescued you, Padge. Perrin, let him go, he’s not going to run. Alaric, haven’t you met Padget Tachonus?”

  “I don’t think so, sorry.” Alaric scratched his head. “Tachonus?”

  “Alaric, come on. He’s Neoma’s brother.”

  “Neoma’s—” Alaric looked down at Conn, who had his mouth set in a stiff line. “More coincidences that probably aren’t. Padget, tell us what happened.”

  Padget wiped sweat from his forehead. “They were waiting for me when I came back from the market. In my own home! They told me I was coming with them, and I said I wasn’t, and they threatened to kill me if I didn’t do exactly as they said. Then we waited for a while—he—” Padget pointed a shaking finger at Conn—“said it needed to be darker, so nobody would notice they had a knife to my back. Then they made me follow him. And then you attacked us.” He sounded so much like Neoma, despite the differences in their size and sex, it was eerie.

  “Hmm. They didn’t say anything else? No details about why they wanted you?”

  “Nothing like that. No, that’s not true. The skinny one—” He pointed at Milo. “He said I didn’t look anything like Neoma, and the one in charge said looks weren’t what mattered.”

  “Interesting. Care to elaborate, Giorda?” Alaric leaned on his sword a little more heavily. Conn stared stonily at the sky. “Nothing? Well, I didn’t expect you to talk. Sienne, go ahead and see if there’s any spells you want in his book. Might as well profit from this.”

  Conn’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Alaric grinned. Sienne, uncertain as to whether he was serious or not, opened the book. Conn groaned. Sienne turned the stiff, sharp-edged pages. Conn knew a lot of spells. There was force, and open, and scorch and ice and half a dozen evocations she’d never even heard of. That was before she even started on the summonings. “This is amazing,” she said. The book trembled in her grip as Conn tried to use his invisible fingers on it. She closed it and tucked it under one arm to prevent him grabbing it. “Maybe later,” she told Alaric.

  “Kalanath,” Alaric said. Kalanath had Milo Giorda in a complicated lock Sienne was sure would dislocate his shoulder if he tried to break it. Kalanath released him only to swing him around and slam him face-first into the wall. Milo let out a weak groan. Alaric said, “All right, Milo. Why did you kidnap Padget?”

  “Not telling you anything,” Milo said, his voice muffled by the bricks.

  Kalanath reversed his grip on Milo’s arm, making it go stiff and hyperextended. Milo yelped in pain. “You’ve worked with Kalanath before,” Alaric said. “You know he’s familiar with all sorts of exotic Omeiran fighting techniques. I’m sure you’ve seen him use them. The question is, do you want him to use them on you?”

  Milo was silent. “I just want a simple answer, and you won’t have to suffer at all,” Alaric continued.

  “Shut up, Milo,” Conn grated.

  Alaric nodded to Kalanath. Kalanath did something that made Milo squeal. “Stop!” he shrieked. “Lord Liurdi sent us after him!”

  “Shut up, you idiot!” Conn said.

  “Is Lord Liurdi the owner of that estate we saw you coming out of this afternoon?”

  “Yes! He needs this man to open a box! Let us go!” Milo was standing on his toes, trying desperately to get away from Kalanath. Sienne hoped Alaric and Kalanath were bluffing. Torturing a pathetic louse like Milo felt wrong, like using Alaric’s sword to cut butter.

  Alaric glanced at Sienne. “Would that work?”

  “I…don’t think so. Did they say why he could open the box, Milo?”

  “Some prophecy or other. Let us go! You can have the little creep!”

  “You’d better pray he doesn’t let me go, Milo, because so help me, I’m going to crush your spine, if I can find it,” Conn said.

  Alaric ignored him. “So they have a priest, and a prophecy.”

  “We knew they had a priest, because the greasy man had a location blessing,” Dianthe said. “Perrin, how could a prophecy tell them to go after Padget?”

  “Sorry?” Perrin came forward from where he’d been staring at one of the low cellar doors lining the alley. “A prophecy is serious business. I would not attempt to direct Averran’s will in that way—were I to ask for a prophecy, I would leave it entirely to him what response to make or, in fact, whether to respond at all. That our enemy dared ask for a prophecy on a specific matter…he, or she, must be well advanced in the worship of their avatar.”

  “But is it really as straightforward as asking for the answer to the question ‘how do we open the box?’”

  “In theory, yes. Though the answers one receives to a prophecy are always oblique. Delanie, for example, delivers all her prophecies in rhyme, or so I am told. So it is unlikely our enemy was simply told the name of this man. At any rate, the priest’s interpretation led her, or him, to conclude kidnapping Master Tachonus was the solution to the problem of the box.”

  “Which leaves us with more questions,” Alaric said. “And no way to get answers that I can see.”

  Sienne looked at Conn. He was glaring at her as if daring her to open his spellbook again. It was too bad they weren’t friends, because she would love to trade for some of his spells. That was beyond unlikely, even if he weren’t the man he was.

  “We have to move quickly,” Dianthe said. “At some point, they’re going to wonder why their pet thugs haven’t returned.” She shoved Alethea harder into the wall as the woman made an attempt to break her hold.

  “That’s true,” Alaric said, looking down at Conn. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Dianthe said, when Alaric didn’t immediately finish his thought.

  Alaric closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Unless their pet thugs return as scheduled.”

  “You surely do not intend to let them go?” Perrin exclaimed.

  Alaric looked at Sienne. “You,” he said, “are a very bad influence. I would never have considered this a week ago.”

  For a moment, Sienne was mystified. Then light dawned. She smiled at Alaric. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We won’t tell anyone you’ve gone soft.”

  “Will someone tell me for the love of Kitane what is going on?” Dianthe said.

  “I’ve lost my mind, that’s what’s going on,” Alaric said. “Let’s do some wizardry.”

  20

  Alaric slammed the heavy cellar door shut and dropped the bar into place. “They won’t get out of that easily.” One of the captives pounded the door, making it rattle, but the bar held firm.

  “Nevertheless, I believe I will give us some extra security,” Perrin said. He tore a blessing from the riffle of papers and knelt before the low door, pressing it flat against the worn wooden surface. Bowing his head, he muttered an invocation. Pale yellow light spread outward from his palm, filling the grain of the heavy wood like melted butter. The wood soaked it up until it dimmed and finally vanished. Another blow struck the door, but this time, the wood didn’t so much as tremble.

  “Is that what that’s for?” Sienne said.

  “I believe it is actually for constraining a mud or rock fall, but it works to hold a door closed as well.” Perrin stood and dusted off his hands. “And with that cellar opening only to the outside, they will be there for a long time.”

  Sienne nodded and crouched by the door. “I’m no thief,” she called out, her voice still strange in her ears. “I’ll leave your book here by the door. Probably no one will steal it.” She didn�
��t much care if they did, but Conn would want revenge on her if she stole his spellbook. Well, he was likely to want revenge regardless. She just knew she couldn’t take his book, however much she might want the spells it contained.

  “You’re sure?” Alaric said. Sienne nodded again. “Then let’s go. Stay close together, and I’ll do the talking. Dianthe?”

  “I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry, I’ll find you,” she added as Kalanath looked about to protest. Surprisingly, he’d been the one to object to Alaric’s unorthodox plan, primarily on the grounds that he’d have to leave his staff behind. Dianthe would return it to Master Tersus’s house, then join them at Lord Liurdi’s estate.

  Sienne cast her eye over all of them, checking her work. Imitate was simple when you had the subject of your image in front of you to work from. Conn, Milo, and two Padgets looked back at her. The Padgets were identical except for their expressions. One of them looked calm. The other looked confused and afraid. Sienne was glad the latter wasn’t going with them.

  “Conn” cleared his throat. “How long will these disguises last?”

  “The confusions will last six hours, unless something happens to disrupt them,” Sienne said. “Specifically, prolonged physical contact with another person will break the spell. The vocal transforms will last four, and those will simply revert when the duration is up. So I’m afraid you’re going to sound like Conn for a while.”

  “Better than having this fall apart on us while we’re in that place,” Alaric said in Conn’s voice. “Padget, go with Dianthe. You’ll be safe at Master Tersus’s, just in case we’re wrong and someone lets Conn and his motley crew out sooner than later.”

  “I still don’t understand what your plan is,” Padget said. “And why did they want me?”

  “I’ll explain it as we go,” Dianthe said. “Good luck.” She saluted them with Kalanath’s staff and ran off, Padget trailing behind her like a mournful dog.

  Alaric gestured for them to form up the way the Giordas had been when they accosted them. Kalanath, who now looked and sounded like Milo Giorda, took up a guard position next to Perrin/Padget. Sienne flanked him on the other side. She couldn’t see her own image, but the others had assured her she looked exactly like Alethea. She tried to remember the woman’s swagger and copy it. Imitate had been popular in the amateur theatricals in Stravanus, with young wizards copying the portraits of famous men and women in history, but Sienne had never been very good at mimicking mannerisms. Now she wished she’d practiced more. Their lives might depend on it.

  She watched Alaric, who strode along exactly as Conn did. How unexpected, that he’d not only thought of this plan, but championed it. For someone whose people were enslaved by wizardry, he’d come to accept having magic cast on him very quickly. Was his faith in her really that complete? After only a few days? Or was he just sensible enough to realize magic was as good or evil as the person casting it? She resolved to ask him about it later. Much later, probably.

  It was now twilight, and music and laughter filled the air. There was some sort of festival going on in the center of Fioretti, and masked revelers rushed past, tugging at Sienne’s sleeves to urge her to join them. She drew closer to Perrin, at the center of their lopsided triangle, and hoped they wouldn’t be separated. On the other side, Kalanath did the same.

  Alaric led them around the loudest and busiest streets, making good time despite the delay. Sienne tried not to fidget, or move too fast. She was conscious of time slipping past, of her fear that one of them would startle, or be jostled too hard, and the confusion would disappear. She was confident in her ability to generate a good imitate, even if she was bad at aping the mannerisms of the person she resembled, but things happened, and there was always a chance of failure. So she fretted, and willed the images to stay put, and composed a quick prayer to whatever avatar might be listening that this would succeed.

  After a time, she realized the streets were quieter, and she had not heard music for some time. They were headed steadily uphill again, past the estates of the wealthy, and Sienne looked back and saw the lights of the palace below and to the left, candy-colored and exquisite. She’d wondered, back when she first arrived in Fioretti, whether the king disliked having some of his subjects looking down on the palace from their estates higher in the hills. Now, looking at the brilliantly lit palace, she realized the king’s ancestors had likely chosen that spot specifically to remind the nobles and gentry who was the true power in Rafellin. No one could look at it and doubt the authority of the man who ruled it.

  Lights lined the road, clean white magical lights that drew clouds of insects just as lanterns did. Scatterings of dark specks beneath them showed what happened when those insects came too close to the light. More lights illuminated the estates they passed, and their gates were open, admitting gaudy carriages filled with beautifully dressed people. They paid no attention to Sienne and her friends, trudging along the side of the road. Sienne averted her face, fearing recognition—there was always a chance one of these people knew her—then remembered she didn’t look anything like herself, and stepped out more boldly.

  They neared the end of the road, and the low hedge beyond which lay Lord Liurdi’s manor. Unlike the others, it was not well-lit, with only a few magic lights hovering to either side of the heavy front doors. More lights scattered throughout the grounds only gave the gardens an eerie, haunted look, as if they were wisps frozen in place, waiting for a victim to stroll by.

  “We’re here,” Alaric said in a low voice. “Remember, I’ll do the talking. We want as much information as we can get before we snatch the box.”

  “What if we have to give ourselves away to get it?” Kalanath asked.

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes. Watch for my signal.”

  A few more steps brought them to the front gate, which struck Sienne as a token more than anything else, given the height of the hedge. Alaric rapped on the bars with his knuckles. A man in forest green and cream livery under a heavy leather jerkin approached. “We’re back,” Alaric said. The guard looked them over just long enough to establish dominance, then unlocked the gate and pulled it open. Alaric gave him Conn’s best sneer and walked past at a pace Conn, with his shorter legs, would have found impossible to copy. The image shifted minutely around the hips and knees.

  “Slow down, brother,” Sienne called out. Alaric didn’t turn to look at her, but slowed his gait. The image shifted slightly again, then settled down, and Sienne breathed more easily.

  They crunched along the gravel paths, not as fancy as Master Fontanna’s but still gleaming white where the magic lights struck them. The manor loomed over them, its windows dark. It looked uninhabited, but not deserted—more as if its owners had gone out of town for the summer, leaving it to the care of the servants. Sienne felt a sudden horrible fear that they’d gotten it wrong, that the pendant was not here, that she had to quash. The guard wouldn’t have let them in if there were no one home, and he wouldn’t have let them in if they hadn’t been expected. This was all according to plan. She shifted her weight so she could feel her spellbook press against her stomach. It was comforting to know it was there, even if she couldn’t use it.

  There was a bell rope with a heavy brass handle hanging by the front door. Alaric pulled it with a firm yank. They waited. Finally, the door creaked open, unnerving Sienne further because it sounded just the way a haunted manor in a melodrama would. “We’re back,” Alaric repeated for the green and cream-clad servant who appeared in the doorway. She held a candle branch in one hand that lit her face with flickering shadows. The woman nodded and opened the door further.

  “Wait here,” she said, and walked away into the darkness, trailing candlelight with her.

  “Why doesn’t she expect us to find the way ourselves?” Sienne whispered.

  “What, and let scum like the Giordas wander free through this lovely manor?” Alaric whispered back. “Besides, we want them to give us a guide. I’m lost and we’
ve only just stepped into the entry hall.”

  The entry hall was only about twenty feet wide, but several times that longer, extending deep into the manor. It was as poorly lit as the outside of the manor, with candles rather than magic lights providing the illumination. They cast deep, almost tangible shadows over the farthest corners of the room and made the portraits lining the long walls seem to be laughing at them. Nearest them, doors to the left and right stood firmly closed, offering no hint as to what lay beyond them. Sienne nervously checked everyone’s confusion spell. Still good.

  The woman returned, emerging from the shadowed depths of the hall like a swimmer coming out of dark water. “You will follow me. You know the rules.”

  Sienne’s heart gave a panicked thump. Rules? There were rules? Alaric remained perfectly calm. She wished she knew how he did that. Beside her, Kalanath prodded Perrin, who jerked away exactly as if he were a prisoner. Everyone was playing their parts except her, and she was giving in to fear. She stiffened her spine and glowered at the servant woman’s back. She wasn’t going to give the game away.

  They followed the bobbing candles down the interminable hall. More doors loomed out of the darkness, flanked by more gilt-framed portraits of people whose eyes followed the interlopers. Where was Dianthe? How on earth could she get inside to find them? Sienne stomped down her fear again. Dianthe was a professional, and she and Alaric had been doing things like this for years. Everything would be fine.

  The servant opened the last door on the left and stepped back. Alaric, ignoring her, entered the room, followed by Perrin and Kalanath. Sienne risked a glance at the woman and caught an unexpected expression of…was that pity? Who did she pity? Sienne felt another flash of fear. This one felt rational. If the woman felt sorry for Perrin/Padget, or even for the Giordas, it could mean their lives were in danger. She wished she could warn Alaric that the theoretical danger was rather less theoretical than they’d thought. She shifted her weight to feel her spellbook again, this time to get a sense for where it lay in case she needed to get at it in a hurry. She might only have the one offensive spell, but as Alaric continued to teach her, there were all sorts of sideways approaches to wizardry.