Knight of Shadows, page 9
The doorman gave Azeria an appraising look then jerked his head as the door swung wide. She followed Ikrus into a dark room lit by a single oil lamp. A couple of human men were sitting at a table and seemed to be playing a game that used bones as pieces. Either that or they were conducting a crude ritual. Azeria was not certain, but she did not sense any power emanating from either of the men, so she doubted the latter. There was a loud thunk as a latch slid into place barring the door behind her. Azeria’s hackles rose. She did not like being trapped underground with these human men, but she was confident she could handle them if they gave her trouble.
Ikrus crossed the room and entered a second, larger room where a number of humans slept on grain sacks, piles of hay, or wadded blankets. The room was even darker than the first, but Azeria’s eyes adjusted quickly. Ikrus was only human, though, and not so lucky as he ended up tripping over several people as he made his way through the space. When they reached the other side, they took a set of stairs to the level above, which was the ground floor. They walked through an empty room with a few windows that had been painted over, and Ikrus stopped in front of a closed door. He rapped several times on the door, and when it opened, a very large human male with a bald head and stubble on his chin stepped into the room.
“What is it, Ikrus?” said the bald man, his gaze flicking toward Azeria.
Ikrus said, “Sorry to bother you, Boss, but this woman is looking for the Raven.”
“Why did you bring her here?” growled Rom.
“She insisted rather forcefully,” replied Ikrus. “She rendered Guent unconscious and had me at knifepoint.”
Rom narrowed his eyes at Azeria. “You attacked my men?”
“They attacked me after they stole my purse.” She looked to Ikrus, “Which I want back, by the way.”
Ikrus reached inside his pocket and produced Azeria’s purse. Handing it over, he said, “Sorry about that.”
“I am sure you are,” she replied. She turned her attention back to Rom. “I understand you know the Raven. I need to speak with him. Where can I find him?”
Rom crossed his meaty arms as he looked at her. “Why should I tell you?”
Azeria jiggled her purse. “I will pay well for the information.”
With a chuckle, Rom said, “No amount of money you could offer would get me to turn on the Raven. That’s a fast way to lose your head, and I like mine right where it is.”
“I’m not asking you to turn on him. I only want to speak with him. Can you arrange it?”
He said, “That’s at least one question I can answer without lying. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know how to contact him. You’re wasting your time here.”
Azeria swept into Rom’s personal space, struck his chest at the same time she kicked the back of his knee, and laid him out on the floor with a whomp. Moving faster than any human could possibly move, she had her knife at Rom’s throat before he even knew he had been attacked.
“Someone in this guild knows how to find the Raven. If you do not know, then you are useless to me, and I have no problem with ending you here and now.”
Although Azeria’s words were malicious, she would not actually follow through on the threat. While she cared little for the human thieves, she was not one to end life so frivolously. Rom did not know that, however, and it appeared her bluff worked when next he said, “Okay, look. I don’t know how to find him, but Guildmaster Attica does, and she happens to be here now. You’re lucky because she spends most of her time in Justain.”
“Take me to this Attica,” said Azeria.
Looking up at her from the floor, Rom pointed toward the door. “She’s in there.”
Azeria released Rom and stepped around his prone form to push the door open. The room was a well-furnished office space with a desk, several chairs, and a sideboard. At the desk sat a young woman with sharp features and long, black hair. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green brown not found in the Eihelvanan. Her tunic and leggings fit her form snuggly, and it was obvious she was used to employing her womanly attributes to get what she wanted. The woman, presumably Attica, looked up at her with surprise as Azeria entered the room and latched the door behind her so they would not be disturbed.
Before Azeria could speak, Attica snapped her book shut, “Who are you? If you’re from the Crimson Blades, I’m not interested in talking about it anymore. I said there’s no deal.”
Azeria said, “I am not from one of your guilds. I am here in search of the Raven.”
Attica smirked and stood. She moved to the sideboard to pour a beverage that looked like water, but even from where Azeria stood halfway across the room, she could smell was not. The guildmaster said, “He’s not here. He comes and goes as he pleases. We never know when he’ll show up.”
“But you have a way of contacting him,” replied Attica.
Attica turned around with her glass and leaned against the sideboard. “I do, but why should I help you? You haven’t even told me who you are.”
“My name is Azeria. Who I am is not important, though. All that is important is my task. I seek the Raven, and I will find him.”
“What’s your business with the Raven?”
“He took something that did not belong to him.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“He wanted us to know. He left his mark.”
“Sounds like the Raven,” remarked Attica. “You want back whatever it is he took?”
“If possible, but more importantly I need to know why he took it.”
Attica swirled her glass then tipped it back before swallowing hard. Her voice was a bit gruff when she replied. “Well, I’m afraid you just missed him. He was here about a week ago. So far as I know, he left Kaibain.”
“You will send him a message for me.”
Attica gave her a lopsided grin. “I like you. You don’t mince words, and you get straight to business. But that doesn’t mean I will help you. What’s in it for me?”
Azeria jiggled her purse again. “I pay well.”
Attica shook her head. “Money is well and good, but not the best use of your skills. The fact that you are in here means you were able to take out Rom, not an easy feat. I hope you didn’t kill him.”
“He lives.”
“Good, then I am willing to deal with you. I will send your message in exchange for a service.”
“I do not have time for services. I must find the Raven.”
“This should not take you too far out of your way. I believe it will put you in the path of the Raven, or close to it.”
“Is that so? What is this service?”
Attica moved back to the desk and opened a drawer. She pulled out a small, decorated box that looked like it might contain valuables. The guildmaster set the box on the desk, “I need this delivered.”
“Delivered to the Raven?”
“No, but I think he will not be far. In fact, he might have taken this himself if it had been here on time.”
“If this is so important, why would you entrust it to me?”
“Because you didn’t kill Rom, but you could have. I need a skilled warrior to make sure this gets to where it’s going.”
“You have many skilled guild members at your disposal.”
“Thieves, not warriors. But there’s something different about you. It’s a feeling I get. I think I can trust you. If you say you will do this, then it will get done. I don’t know why, but I am certain.”
“Very well. I will make your delivery if it will get me closer to the Raven. Where must I go?”
Attica smiled. “You go east.”
Chapter 7
Wesson stored his belongings at the inn then headed into the city. He was not dressed in his typical battle mage garb as that would draw unwanted attention. He wore a simple beige tunic, brown vest, and brown pants, and his caramel-colored curls were hidden beneath a floppy hat. In all, he looked like any other commoner in Kaibain. The last time he had been to this city, he had left it in haste after the attack on the Mage Academy. He doubted anyone would recognize him, but it was prudent to try to fit in.
His path through the city took him past the lower market district and into a more affluent area where higher end shops and many of the civic structures were located. His first order of business was to scout the mage relay to see what kinds of security measures were in place. The mage relay was located between the city’s planning office and the courier’s guildhall, and it was an opulent building with curved walls, stained-glass windows, and a golden dome atop it. The front entry was open, and it seemed anyone could just walk in, which is what Wesson did.
The inside of the building was one large, open space, the front of which was reserved for patrons waiting to send or receive messages and was populated with many seating areas. The two sides of the room were separated by a long counter, and the mage relay was located on the far side of the counter. The relay itself was a large circular structure that consisted of the base of a cone at the bottom with the tip shorn away. Around the cone were inscribed the runes that established the destinations for messages sent or received. A second cone, sans tip, descended from the ceiling, and the gap between them, where the points would have been, was a platform upon which the messages were sent or received.
A single guard was stationed at one end of the counter, but he was not paying attention to the room. He was busy having a conversation with the pretty mage behind the counter. Their flirtations were not what had garnered Wesson’s attention, though. The mage, along with her colleagues, were all wearing an unfamiliar uniform. It was not the robes or tunics established by the Mage Academy for official wear by mages. These uniforms had a waist-length top with an asymmetric design across the front with a white flap overlapping the black base and pinned with a silver button. The pants were black and fitted but not snug and were tucked into knee-high black boots. What disturbed Wesson was the emblem over the left breast. It was the kingdom’s seal, the king’s mark.
He casually approached the counter and waited for the young woman to notice him. When she finally came over to assist him, she smiled politely, but the expression did not reach her eyes. Wesson noted the tightness around her lips and the darkness beneath her eyes. Although she was kempt, she looked haggard.
“What can I do for you?” she said.
Wesson pulled a small missive from his pocket and handed it to the woman. He said, “I’d like to send a message.”
The woman perused the message, “That’ll be a thump.”
Wesson produced the heavy coin and handed it over to her.
She said, “I’ll see that this is sent. Good day.”
Wesson hurried to say, “Oh, I’m expecting a quick reply. I’ll wait.”
“Very well.”
Then he took a chance and added, “The new uniforms look nice.”
She nodded, “You must not have been in here for a while. We’ve had these for months. They’re not too bad, although not as comfortable as what we used to wear.”
He cautiously said, “Why the change?”
She blinked at him as if startled then quickly recovered. “I guess you might now know, being a mundane. These are what all mages wear now—at least, those who are not wanted for treason.” She tapped the sigil over her breast. “Wearing this seal shows that I’ve sworn fealty to the king.”
Wesson said, “But I thought mages were independent of the crown. They’re supposed to be under the purview of the Mage Academy, aren’t they?”
Her eyes darted around as if searching for eavesdroppers, then she lowered her voice, “That’s how it used to be, but now the academy is gone. Any mage who hasn’t sworn fealty by mage oath to King Caydean is considered a traitor and subject to immediate death upon sight.”
Wesson was genuinely surprised, and he was sure it showed on his face. He quickly said, “I didn’t know that, but I guess it’s best for the kingdom this way.”
Doubt flitted across her face before she straightened, “Yes, glory to the king.” Then she turned from him and stepped over to the mage relay. Her vimara sparked in the air, and Wesson tamped down on his own so that it would not bleed into the air and alert her to his status as a mage. He watched carefully as she went about constructing the spells and attaching them to the runes of the relay. She set the missive on the central platform and released her spells. Various runes of the relay lit up with blue and green light, and then a blue haze formed between the cones. It flashed brightly, then all illumination was gone, and the relay sat dormant once again. The woman snagged the paper and returned it to Wesson without so much as glancing at him. Then she went to rejoin her conversation with the guard.
Wesson waited for a while, but he was not truly expecting a response. In fact, the message and its recipient were fabricated so that he would have an excuse to linger. The woman continued talking to the guard, and one of the other mages behind the counter stepped into a back room. The third was hunched over a desk facing away from the relay and seemed to be engrossed in a ledger. Wesson figured he would not get a better chance to do what was needed.
He tamped down on his vimaral bleed as much as possible. Hopefully, no one would be able to detect his mage power unless they were standing right next to him. Then he wrapped around himself a spell that had been inspired by Rezkin. If anyone’s attention landed on him, it would immediately be diverted to something else. In this way, he could go unnoticed by anyone in the vicinity. Then he applied a small sound ward around himself so that no sound would escape beyond it. Once his wards were in place, Wesson moved over to the counter and climbed on top of it. No one raised an alarm, so he figured he was safe so far. He slid over the other side and quickly crossed to the mage relay. He pulled a small stone disk from his pocket. It was about the size of his palm, and numerous runes had been carved into its surface. At its center was a crystal from the citadel in Caellurum, fully charged, thanks to Entris.
Wesson placed the disk on the platform of the mage relay. The next part, he knew, would be particularly difficult to pull off without alerting anyone. He placed himself between the relay and the mages in hopes that his redirection spell would prevent them from noticing the changes happening to the relay. He triggered the spell on the stone, and it began vibrating with a low hum. Wesson’s heart lurched as he quickly glanced behind him to see if the other mages had noticed. The mage at the desk looked up, glanced from side to side as if listening for something, then shrugged and went back to his ledger. The female mage did not seem to hear the hum at all.
Relieved, Wesson watched as the stone disk began to sink into the platform. Then he was alarmed once again when someone approached the counter with a document in his hand. Wesson anxiously glanced back to the stone. It was not nearly close enough to being embedded. If the mage came over to use the relay now, she would see the stone and his task would fail. Wesson had to think quickly. He looked over to the mage, but thankfully she was taking her time chatting with the guard. Wesson needed to keep her preoccupied. Unfortunately, the man waiting at the counter was becoming impatient.
“Hey, there. Mage! I’m waiting,” he groused.
The mage looked over at him with her false smile, “I’ll be right with you.”
Wesson glanced back to the platform. The stone disk was nearly halfway submerged, but it was not sinking fast enough. As the woman finally came over to help the man, Wesson decided to act. He summoned his constructive power and whipped out a wind spell. The gust swept through the open doorway and across the foyer to snatch the document out of the waiting man’s hand. The man cried out as he attempted to catch the paper, but it danced across the foyer out of his reach.
The woman’s spine straightened, and she looked back to the mage at the desk. She snapped, “Did you do that?”
The mage turned to look at her, “Did I do what?”
She scowled, “Stop playing around, Malcolm, or I’ll have you do the ledgers for the next month. Get back to work.”
Malcolm blinked at her confused then turned back to his ledger. Wesson swallowed the bile that had crept up his throat and looked back to the stone disk. It was almost completely embedded in the stone platform of the relay. Meanwhile, the man awaiting use of the relay had retrieved his document and returned to the counter. As the man spoke with the mage, Wesson anxiously watched the stone disk sink beneath the level of the platform. When it was finished, he could not tell that anything had changed. The mage turned and headed toward him, and Wesson quickly skirted the relay and headed back toward the far end of the counter. He watched closely as she began using the relay. He had to make sure the device would continue to work as usual despite his little addition. After several minutes, he became satisfied that the relay did, in fact, work as normal, and Wesson slipped back over the counter and left the building.
Wesson was not practiced in subterfuge, but he thought his mission had gone rather smoothly. No one was the wiser that he had just added a new central destination rune to the relay. Assuming it worked as it was supposed to, now every message that was sent via the sole relay in the capital city of Kaibain would also be sent to Cael. Likewise, they could now send a message to the Kaibainian relay and make it appear the message had come from anywhere to which the relay was connected. He had just created a new weapon in their arsenal. Wesson was so thrilled to have pulled off the scheme that he did not notice the man walking into the relay until it was too late. Wesson had just enough time to drop his spells before he collided with the man.
“Oh! Pardon me,” said Wesson from the ground where he was sprawled.
With dark eyes, the man looked down his nose at Wesson as he smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his uniform. This uniform was similar to those worn by the relay mages except that it was entirely black and had a number of shiny embellishments across the front and down the sleeves. The man’s sandy blonde hair brushed his shoulders, and a scowl was etched across his clean-shaven face.
