One Hundredth Magic Read online

  “And invite a million westerners to Crag Vysthuk?” said Kalnai Firrakh. “Fantastic idea, Teriya. Better watch your back, Mezzino. With a mind like that, the man must aspire to be fandyiha."

  The group laughed, and Teriya scowled across the table. He shoved a bit of rabbit in his mouth and spoke around it: “These fools couldn't mass a million fighters if the Great Death itself were knocking. They're just a bunch of little city-states, squabbling away at each other like vultures stealing one another's spoils."

  “Don't mind Teriya,” said another feyrhakin, Shinvai. “He's just pissy because this wet air ruins his skin."

  The laughter grew again, with even a small contribution from Teriya. When it subsided, Mezzino spoke for the first time since the start of the meal. His feyrhakin quieted instantly.

  “They fight amongst themselves,” said the fandyiha, “but they'd patch their differences in a heartbeat if they felt threatened by the Clans. Petty as they are with each other, we're something completely alien. We look different, we live in a different world, even our magic's different. Look at what they did to the elves twenty years ago."

  “Every damned westerner alive took up arms like they were all one clan,” said Shinvai, nodding his crimson head. “Dwarves, too. You would've thought those elves were the vanguard of the Great Death, no less."

  “But this is no petty matter,” Teriya said. “They stole the grimoire of Clan Vysthuk! An example must be made of these westerners!"

  “Yes, yes,” said Mezzino. “But which westerners? Unless you've some knowledge I'm lacking, we've got plenty of watching and waiting ahead of us.” The glow from the light jar began to fade. Kalnai picked it up and shook it, agitating the sand inside and restoring the illumination.

  “We know whoever it is has summoned a bayyalis,” said Shinvai. “Our own thaumaluk felt it two weeks ago. Whoever performed the ritual must've been a master among western mages."

  “Which means it must be the Prime Wizard, that Nikkolynda,” said Teriya. “Who else in this despicable place has that kind of power?"

  “Nevertheless, we will not march into Hurst and accuse the Emperor's favorite mage of stealing our grimoire,” said Mezzino. “The Council of Clans agrees—this is best handled peacefully.”

  “Did the thaumaluk locate the bayyalis when we arrived?” asked Kalnai.

  “No such luck,” Shinvai answered. “The thief is being careful. Ravasakh believes that the bayyalis was banished within a day of the summoning. This suggests the creature was brought to Hurst, performed some task and was dismissed."

  Teriya snorted. “Performed some task? How can you believe a western mage could control a bayyalis?"

  “How can you believe a western thief could make off with Clan Vysthuk's grimoire?” asked Mezzino. Teriya glared at his food.

  “Five hours until dawn,” said Kalnai after glancing at the stars. “I'm going to sleep and pray that tomorrow is what the westerners think of as a hot day."

  “Shinvai, change the sentries and remind them to take care,” said Mezzino. “I don't want any problems when we have to deal with this Emperor."

  “And what will you tell the Emperor when he asks why you've brought a hundred soldiers on a peaceful mission?” asked Teriya.

  Mezzino rose from the table, stretching his six-and-a-half-foot frame and stifling a yawn. “I'll tell him the truth,” he said. “I'm here for the grimoire. The rest of you are here to protect the westerners from whatever it might unleash."

  * * * * *

  Though his sign promised the most discreet service in the Empire, Cedrin the Pawnbroker proved to be quite talkative once Alexander's money pouch was opened. The pawnbroker's shop was supposed to have closed an hour earlier, but the promise of silver had convinced Cedrin to lock the door and spend part of his evening with Alexander. A few copper coins already rested on the counter between his hands. He rolled them back and forth with fat fingers as the two men conversed.

  Whenever Cedrin spoke his breath came out in ragged gasps, as if his lungs couldn't supply both his voice and his massive body with enough air at once. His gaze darted continuously from Alexander's eyes to his money pouch, then to the loose coins and back to the Huntsman's face. As Alexander had expected, the pawnbroker was well acquainted with the activities of the Hurst underworld. To his disappointment, however, Cedrin didn't seem to know anything about the recent murders.

  “Hard to believe that such a well-known man could be killed here and no one talk about it,” said Alexander. “I mean, one of the Emperor's counselors? That's got to be big news.” He wondered for a moment if Cedrin would notice that he didn't know the victim's name, but the pawnbroker was apparently too concerned with lightening Alexander's purse to worry about the Huntsman's knowledge or intentions.

  “Plenty of talk,” said Cedrin. “Postwick was damned well known, you know. Or maybe you don't, seeing how you're not from here. Lots of people got ideas of who done him in, but nobody's takin’ the credit, if you know what I mean."

  “So, no one put out the word for an assassin?"

  “Pah. Ain't no assassins in Hurst. Pickpockets and burglars, sure, but not assassins. Where'd you say you were from? Forthaven?"

  “That's right. How'd the populace react to Postwick's death?"

  Cedrin shrugged his massive shoulders, causing a ripple effect to travel from his chest to his waist. “Like they give a rat's tail. Most people never even seen the man—keep folk don't mix regular with us commoners, you know? That's the way of the Empire.” He broke into a great guffawing laugh, which ended in a harsh fit of wheezing and coughing.

  “Why not the princes?” asked Alexander. “Seems like if I were going to risk a murder in the keep itself I'd at least go after someone important."

  “Well, hell, man, everyone likes Fenric. His Highness is a hero—you can take that from me. Damned near drove the scrymgers outta the northern farms all by himself, you know. Now, his brother's another story. Darien's a real sot, takes no part in runnin’ the city, so what's the point in murdering a fellow like him?"

  “Makes sense,” said Alexander. He pulled from his pouch a silver coin stamped with the lion's head insignia of Hurst and rolled it idly in his fingers. “Tell me, if I wanted to hire a killer here in Hurst, where would I go?"

  Cedrin hesitated, eyes never leaving the coin, and Alexander knew the pawnbroker was trying to choose between an unhelpful truth and a potentially lucrative lie. He finally gave an exasperated sigh.

  “I told you, stranger, we got no assassins here in Hurst. Go down to Rottown and you find people willing to do just about anything, includin’ take a knife to a man's back, but you won't find no one who can do a serious job. Sure as hell won't find one who can get inside the keep and kill one the Emperor's own."

  Alexander glanced at the time candle burning on a shelf behind the counter. Only three hour-marks were left on the melting stick, though the red drippings on the side told him the fourth had just been passed. “Got time for one more question?” he asked.

  The light of greed rekindled instantly in Cedrin's eyes. “Plenty of time,” he said.

  “What can you tell me about the trade war with Addamantia? I hear there're lots of soldiers on the Dwarf's Highway."

  “Smugglers,” said Cedrin, immediately this time. “Those bastard Addamantians keep raisin’ the tariffs on Hurst lumber, so His Righteousness raises the tax on their metal work and fabrics. Next thing you know the thievin’ Addamantians are tryin’ to smuggle their wares into the city in vegetable carts, claimin’ to be our own farmers. Surprisin’ that you Forthaven folk haven't had the same problems with ’em."

  “That bad, huh?"

  “Worse. We already take a loss with damned near every trade, you know, and that Baron Alfrid just wants more and more. Our folk can't make an honest trade with ’em."

  Alexander looked around at the pawnbroker's collection of goods and guessed at least half of his wares to be stolen. Suppressing a grin, he flipped the silver coin acr
oss the counter. Cedrin grabbed for it but the coin squirted through his fingers and fell to the floor beyond. With speed that belied his huge bulk the pawnbroker dropped to his knees.

  “Thanks for your time,” Alexander said as he headed for the door.

  “Anything you need, you just come see Cedrin. Folks tell me everything, you know."

  “I'll keep it in mind,” said Alexander.

  * * * * *

  Kandys Corlithian pressed her body to the warm tiles of the roof and watched the flyer wheeling overhead. She alternately cursed and blessed the full moon, which threatened to reveal her lithe figure but meanwhile silhouetted the airborne guardsmen. The Hurst Air Corps was the bane of thieves, patrolling a venue that would otherwise be a veritable highway for those who worked in the night.

  Kandys had lain frozen on the rooftop for close to an hour now, watching the abrupt congregation of archers on the southern wall and wondering if she'd have to abort this evening's venture. They appeared to be engrossed with something outside the city proper, however. When the flyer finally glided to a different part of the city, Kandys began to move. Her muscles ached as she stretched, pulling with her fingertips and pushing with her toes. The thief inched her way across the roof, aiming for the shadow of the chimney. The builder must have been new to his trade, she'd decided. Not only did the tall chimney provide ample protection from moonlight for the majority of the night, a third-floor window happened to open directly below the shadowed spot.

  Her destination was only ten feet away, but Kandys took her time reaching it. When illumination was scarce, she knew, motion attracted attention much faster than objects. Twenty minutes after starting toward it, she slid completely into the lee of the chimney. She really didn't need to work tonight. After the unbelievable trip into the desert, she could afford to stop working for a full year or two. But then, she reasoned, she'd be a year or two out of practice. Better to stay in the game until her skills could be retired permanently.

  The thief lay on her back for a few minutes, scanning the sky and relaxing her muscles. The next part was the hardest—making her way over the roof and into the house without waking the occupants. Kandys had been unable to determine what kind of room waited inside the window, but she'd wager it was a bedroom. The third story rarely held the kitchen and guest parlors. A small spider dashed over her arm. She waited until it returned to the roof tiles, then sent the tiny creature plummeting to the street below. She stared at the stars for another moment. No winged men swooped from the sky to pluck her from the building.

  Reaching into a fold of her dark shirt, Kandys extracted a thin cord with a metal hook at the end. It was wrapped carefully to prevent snarls. Rolling over onto her stomach, she inched to the edge of the roof and looked over, already unknotting the end of the cord. She stopped abruptly, nearly bursting out with laughter. The window below was unlatched and opened wide to the night air.

  The cord and hook disappeared back to its hiding place, and Kandys backed away from the edge. She unwrapped a length of rope from her waist. After she looped it around the chimney, the rope was just long enough to dangle before the window. Enough length to carry her to the ground would have been too bulky for the climb across the roof. Besides, ground-floor escapes were for novices. She slipped over the edge of the roof and slid carefully down the rope, swinging in slightly to drop her feet on the window sill.

  When no alarmed shouts sounded from inside the dwelling, Kandys freed one hand and pulled her upper body toward the window. She climbed through quickly, landing inside with the grace of a cat. She wasn't quite quiet enough to not rouse the cat inside, however, and she froze as it darted into a corner. It sat there and blinked at her, a white, longhaired thing with luminous eyes. Cat and thief stared at one another for a moment, both ignoring the soft, rhythmic breathing from the shadowed bed. Kandys lowered herself to a crouch, reaching slowly into another hidden pocket. The cat watched with interest as she withdrew a small bottle and unstopped it. A slight aroma wafted from the vial and the cat stepped forward, sniffing eagerly. Kandys grinned as the feline collapsed, unconscious. She slid its warm body under the bed and returned the vial to her pocket, then stood.

  The combined light of the moon and street torches cast an illuminated square on the floor and wall opposite the window. To Kandys's left stood a dresser with six drawers and a large mirror. Atop the dresser were a number of small wooden boxes, a hairbrush and a stack of papers bundled in a blue ribbon. A tall wardrobe stood next to the bedroom door, and to the right of that was the bed. As her eyes adjusted to the available light she made out the form of the sleeping occupant. It was the girl she'd followed three days earlier from Shipman's Plaza. She was young, quite beautiful and apparently slept without clothes in the warmth of spring. Her large, round breasts rose and fell evenly, and the slow sound of her breath didn't change pattern as Kandys stepped toward the bed. The thief fought the urge to reach out and stroke the soft skin, but she indulged herself with a long, voyeuristic stare. Jewelry, she finally reminded herself, and forced herself to turn away from the girl.

  The wooden boxes proved to be a thief's delight. Only two were protected by locks, and these popped open easily to Kandys's picks. She transferred a nice collection of bracelets and rings into a pouch, placing the ornaments carefully so as not to jingle them against one another. The jewelry wasn't exactly a trove of riches, but it certainly wasn't glass and brass. The final piece was a long necklace of white beads, from which dangled a fairly sizable ruby. Kandys held it up in both hands and glanced in the mirror at the figure on the bed. She pictured the ruby between the breasts she'd studied moments ago and decided to leave the necklace for the girl.

  The exit from the house was even easier than the entrance. Kandys stood on the windowsill and caught hold of the rope, then pulled herself hand-over-hand to the roof. Once again she lay motionless in the shadow of the chimney, watching for the ever-present Air Corps. The peak of the roof obscured her view of the southern wall, so she couldn't tell whether the number of night guardsmen was still unusually high. Convinced that the way was clear, Kandys gathered up her rope, crawled to the peak and made her way to the far edge. An easy jump took her atop a chirurgeon's office, then she was sprinting from roof to roof of various apartments. She finally descended through the trapdoor of a vacant building. Keeping to the shadows and avoiding the night criers, she made her way through the streets of Hurst.

  Nearly an hour after leaving the girl's bedroom, the thief stood outside the door of her own small apartment. A spider dashed across the cobblestones as Kandys hefted the pouch in one palm, mentally estimating the value of her night's work. She stomped on the spider happily and went inside.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alexander disembarked from the rickshaw and passed the driver an Addamantian copper. The young man hadn't even broken a sweat on the run across Hurst despite the humid morning air. They'd reached the western gate in a quarter of the time it had taken Alexander to walk the reverse journey the previous day, a feat he would've previously thought impossible without a horse. The rickshaw driver dropped the coin in a pouch and took up a station next to the gatehouse. A slow trickle of travelers was already entering the city, and the driver would probably have a new customer soon.

  Alexander approached the quartet of spearmen with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He identified a lieutenant by the emblem on his nose ring and matching symbol on the shoulders of his gray uniform.

  “Alexander Finnell, of Addamantia,” he said. He handed the documents to the guard. “I'm supposed to meet the representative of the Emperor here."

  “Over there,” said the lieutenant, giving the papers no more than a cursory glance. He nodded to a woman leaning against the outer wall on the opposite side of the road.

  Alexander took a moment to study her before approaching. She stood in profile to him, with thick black hair that fell past her shoulders and obscured her face. Her tunic, a solid dark brown, covered a slender body. Her pants matched th
e tunic, with legs tucked into high, fringed boots. A black-and-gold belt encircled her narrow waist and held a dagger in a leather scabbard, which was studded with polished steel rivets. The woman's forearms were covered with vambraces that matched the scabbard. She brushed back her hair to reveal the fair skin of a high-set cheekbone and the ridge of her petite nose. A very attractive face, Alexander decided. He guessed her to be slightly younger than himself, perhaps a few years past thirty. She turned as he approached.

  “Good morning,” said Alexander.

  The woman's eyes darted to Alexander's sword before meeting his gaze. “Good morning,” she said. “Please pardon me, I'm waiting for someone."

  Alexander shrugged and smiled. “I like to think of myself as someone."

  Her expression didn't change. “I'm waiting for someone in particular. Perhaps the men at the guardhouse can direct you to a more entertaining part of the city."

  “I've only explored Hurst for a day now, but I suppose advice from a native wouldn't hurt."

  The woman stared at him for a moment. “Alexander Finnell?” she finally asked. “Baronial Huntsman of Addamantia?"

  He gave a small bow. “At your service, miss, or madam, or however you prefer to be called."

  “'Counselor’ will do,” she said. “Adriana Thornwell, counselor to his Imperial Righteousness, Emperor Theodoric of Hurst. You weren't expected until this morning."

  “Remaining somewhat unpredictable is an old practice of the Baronial Huntsmen."

  “Not trusting the unpredictable is an old practice of the Imperial Counsel."