by Warhammer
‘It seems to me that there is another point to be considered here,’ said Max.
‘Go on…’
‘Why is this Adolphus fellow prepared to go to all this trouble to acquire the Eye? What does he hope to gain from it?’
‘You’re the magician. You tell me.’
‘I think it’s imperative I begin studying this artefact,’ said Max. ‘Perhaps if I can divine its purpose I can work out what our friend wants with it.’
Felix nodded. That seemed reasonable. ‘One of us should stay here with you and help watch this place.’
‘I will,’ said Ulrika, rather too quickly for Felix’s liking.
‘Snorri will too,’ said Snorri Nosebiter. ‘If there’s going to be a fight here, Snorri wants to be around for it. Better than talking to clerks.’
Felix looked at Gotrek. ‘It looks as if we will be asking all the questions.’
The Slayer shrugged. ‘Let’s get on with it then, manling.’
The sky was overcast and more snow was falling. Felix could feel the chill right through the extra layers of clothing he wore, and he resolved to use some of the money Andriev was paying them to buy a new pair of boots. As ever there were people watching them. It was not unusual. Gotrek was a colourful figure, although one no one would think of bothering. He showed no sign that the chill bothered him in any way.
‘What do you think?’ Felix asked the Slayer. Around them crowds packed the narrow streets of the merchant quarter. Old buildings leaned over them. It was dark and mazy and he was glad they had paused to get the directions to Benedict’s office from Andriev’s steward before leaving.
‘I think Count Andriev is a rich old man who can afford to indulge whatever whims he has, manling. I think his gold is as good as anybody else’s.’
‘You think he’s imagining things?’ said Felix. He stepped out of the street to let a patrol of lancers pass. After a moment’s consideration Gotrek did the same. He eyed the horses with hostility. He had never had much love for cavalry or their mounts.
‘No. I think there is most likely something going on here. Wizard’s business by the sound of it.’
‘Do you think the others will be all right?’ Felix asked.
‘You have seen Max Schreiber use magic, manling, and you have seen Snorri Nosebiter and Ulrika fight. They are in a fortified mansion surrounded by guards. What do you think?’
‘That they are most likely safer than we are.’
Gotrek grunted as if considerations of personal safety were the last thing on his mind. Felix fought back a cough. There was an odd tickling at the back of his throat, and he seemed to be sweating a little more than normal. He hoped he was not coming down with anything nastier than a cold.
‘You think it might be Chaos cultists?’ he asked. They had encountered followers of the Dark Gods in the cities of man before. During the siege they had interrupted an attempt by the Chaos worshippers to poison the granaries. Felix did not think they had killed all of them, by a long chalk.
‘Who knows, manling? Doubtless we will find out soon enough.’ Felix wished he could emulate the Slayer’s unconcerned attitude, but knew he would never be able to. His imagination was too active, he thought too much. It probably helped that Gotrek did not care whether he lived or died either. Felix did. He knew that he wanted to live; there was much he wanted to see and do yet.
‘Doubtless you are right,’ he muttered and they trudged on down the street.
The Street of Clerks had been mostly untouched by the siege. It was in the old town, within the inner wall, in the shadow of the citadel. The buildings were mostly red-roofed tenements and shop-houses. Even in the winter chill people were coming and going. From his long experience of such things in Altdorf, Felix judged them to be merchants and lawyers and the people who ran errands for such men. Winter or no winter, war or no war, business went on as usual. It was just like his father had always said.
Brother Benedict had an office in one of the more prosperous-looking buildings, a tall tenement that leaned right out over the alley, joined by a high bridge to the building across the way. With its white-washed walls and timbered frame, it reminded Felix of the buildings in Altdorf, although it was not so high or so beautiful and the gargoyles perched on the ledges over doors and windows were far too grotesque for his home city.
They entered the building and made their way up the narrow winding stairs. On the third landing was the office where Andriev’s agent had maintained his business. Felix knocked on the door and then entered. A clerk looked up in surprise as they came in.
‘What… What do you want here?’ Felix handed him a scroll emblazoned with the count’s seal. ‘We’re here on Count Andriev’s business. I want to check your records.’
The man inspected the seal closely and then broke it and read the message on the scroll. ‘It says I am to give you my fullest co-operation.’
The man’s voice sounded querulous. Gotrek showed him a ham-sized fist. ‘I think that would be a good idea, don’t you.’
The man looked at the dwarf and then nodded silently. ‘Where does your master keep his records?’ Felix asked. The clerk indicated a large cabinet. ‘Keys?’ Felix demanded. The man reached into a purse and produced them. Felix tried them and found that they worked.
‘When did you last see your master?’ he asked.
‘Two days ago.’
‘Was there anything unusual about his behaviour?’
‘No. It was just before he locked up for the night. I was about to leave. He lived here in the small flat at the back of the office.’ Felix jingled the keys.
‘Did he meet a stranger here, a noble from the Empire? Adolphus Krieger by name.’
‘The name sounds familiar. I think he met Krieger here one evening.’
‘One evening? Isn’t that a little unusual? Normally merchants do their business during the day.’
‘In our line of work we often meet people at unusual hours – couriers from the Empire, shady characters with something interesting to sell.’
‘Shady characters?’
‘Not all collectables are legitimately acquired, Herr Jaeger. And many are quite valuable. Thieves often try and pass them on to new owners. Not all collectors are as scrupulous about such things as the count; not all brokers as scrupulous as my master either.’
‘Your master worked exclusively for the count?’
‘Yes. Since before I was apprenticed. Over a decade ago.’
‘Do you remember anything about an artefact that might have come from Araby? The Eye of Khemri.’
‘I do. We purchased it for the count about two years ago. It was part of a collection belonging to an elderly merchant in Nuln, a very good one with many exquisite pieces. To me the Eye seemed nothing special, but my master thought it might be magical. He should know – he was a wizard after all.’
‘Magical?’
‘Nothing special. Some sort of protective talisman. Old; most likely the power in it had drained away over the years. He thought it came from Khemri in the Land of the Dead.’
You wouldn’t have to be an expert to make that deduction, Felix thought. He could have made it himself. Still he was a little disturbed. The Land of the Dead had an evil reputation. It had once been the oldest of human kingdoms but had fallen into desolation millennia ago. Felix had never read anything good about the place, and a lot that was terrifying. All of the inhabitants were rumoured to have died of some terrible plague, and the cities were said to be vast haunted tombs. Worse than that, it was said to be the original home of the Great Necromancer, Nagash, a name which had been used to frighten children for hundreds of years. Felix said as much to the clerk.
‘Nehekharan relics are particularly prized by certain collectors. It was the oldest human civilisation in the world. Its people were civilised two millennia before the time of Sigmar.’
‘Civilised was not a word I would have used to describe them,’ said Gotrek. It no longer surprised Felix when the Slayer displa
yed unexpected depths of knowledge. The dwarf kingdoms were far older than the kingdoms of man, and the dwarfs kept extensive records in their great books.
‘Go on,’ said Felix.
‘They were half savages who built huge cities for their dead. They practised all manner of dark magic. Their nobles drank the blood of innocents in depraved ceremonies intended to prolong their own lives. They studied dark magic and daemon summoning.’
Felix could remember reading about such things in the great library of Altdorf University. He also remembered other things.
‘They were not all bad. There were many city-states. The rulers of some fought against the blood drinkers. And Alcadizaar fought against Nagash himself and destroyed him for a time.’
‘Be that as it may, manling, they all fell into darkness in the end. Their cities are terrible places, haunted by the restless dead. Believe me. I have seen them.’
‘You’ve seen them?’
‘Aye, and it’s not a sight I would care to look upon again.’
‘What were you doing there?’
Gotrek looked at him and shrugged. He said nothing. Felix knew that unless the dwarf wanted to tell him, he would learn nothing. He was surprised. He knew the Slayer had gone through many adventures before they met, but Felix had never suspected he had travelled to the distant lands east of Araby.
‘We don’t have all day,’ said Gotrek. ‘If you’re going to check the records here, you’d best get on with it.’
‘What are you looking for?’ asked the clerk.
‘I’ll know when I find it,’ said Felix. ‘You can go now. Have lunch,’ he said. The man looked at him for a moment.
‘You can read?’ he asked. Felix wasn’t surprised. Reading was not a common skill. ‘Yes,’ said Felix. He jerked a thumb at Gotrek. ‘So can he.’
‘I will leave you to it then, unless you want some help.’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’ Felix went over to the record cases and opened them. He picked the ledger that had been worked on most recently and began to skim through it. As he told the clerk, he was not sure what he was looking for; he only hoped that they would find some clue, and that Max was having better luck than they were.
Max Schreiber stared at the Eye of Khemri. The more he looked, the more convinced he became that there was something odd about it.
He inspected the stone closely. He had seen its like before during his early studies at the College. He was certain that it was obsidian, a stone often used by the ancient Nehekharans. He was less certain about the pictograms. He had never undertaken any particular studies of that obscure and near forgotten language. It was a field only necromancers studied closely, and Max had never felt any great interest in that dark and dangerous art.
There was something about this talisman that niggled at him though, a subtle wrongness that Max could not quite put his finger on. The thing seemed to have a faint residue of dark magic, as if it had once been used to store dark magical energy. Such unholy objects were common enough, and Max had encountered many of them in his travels. The Eye had obviously once been used to contain such energies, and they had long since been discharged. At least they appeared to have been. Max was not entirely sure that they had been totally used up. He knew he would need to employ some complex divinatory spells to ascertain whether that was the case. Before he did that though, there were a few elementary precautions he wanted to take, just in case of mishaps.
He closed his eyes and focused his magesight, then reached out to bind the winds of magic to him. It was difficult here. The mansion was woven around with protective spells and this vault was the most densely defended area within it. It would be near impossible for anybody save a master wizard to draw any power at all here. Fortunately Max was a master, and he did not require much energy for what he had in mind.
He felt the power slowly trickle into him. He had not felt the flows of energy this weakly since he was an apprentice. Much as Max disliked Elthazar, he had to admit the old wizard knew his business. The spell walls were tight and strong. It took all of Max’s efforts to maintain his concentration and tie the simple weave around the talisman. It took much longer than it normally would have, and by the time he was finished Max was sweating profusely. He felt drained and ill but he knew that his spell was in place. He studied the matrix of energies around the talisman closely, nipped off a loose flow here, tightened a skein there, until he was completely satisfied that the spell would hold for as long as he wanted it to. Good, he thought, the first stage of the work was complete.
Now it was time to begin his examination. He opened his magesight to the fullest and disregarded his own weave. He let his vision roam over the Eye, seeking out any slight hint that the thing was not what it appeared to be. At first nothing would come. He could tell just from the aura of the thing that it was old, and that it had indeed once held a fair amount of dark magic. It appeared to be the sort of talisman that any reasonably powerful necromancer would create to help him with his casting, one that had long ago served its purpose and discharged all its energies. It appeared to be a worthless burnt-out relic. Had he not had reason to think otherwise Max would have ended his examination there and then. But he did have reason and his curiosity was piqued and he was not a man to give up easily once his need to know was aroused.
He continued his search, focusing his magesight ever more closely on the talisman, seeking any hint of abnormality, the slightest trace that it was not quite what it seemed. He had heard of such things before. Mages sometimes camouflaged powerful artefacts with cloaking spells to prevent their enemies knowing their worth and purpose until it was too late.
Max suspected that something like this might be the case with the Eye but so far he had failed to find any evidence of it. If the thing was cloaked, then someone had done a truly masterful job. Max doubted that the mighty high elf mage Teclis himself could have hidden anything from the kind of minute examination he was giving the Eye, and still he found nothing.
The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps this talisman was simply just what it appeared to be, and there was nothing to be gained from any further examination. Max considered this and then considered the possibility that the thought might have originated outside his own mind, that it was in fact some sort of subtle suggestion spell placed on the Eye itself.
Part of him wondered that this might be taking suspicion too far; another part of him sincerely believed that no master magician could ever take suspicion far enough. There were far too many subtle snares that could be placed by jealous rivals. He inspected his mental defences and found them unbreached. He felt like laughing. Any suggestion subtle and potent enough to worm through his hard-held mental shields would certainly be able to hide any such tampering after the fact. This was getting him nowhere.
Once again, he returned to his painstaking search, fixing his fullest attention on finding any discrepancies in the aura of the stone. There! What was that? Perhaps nothing. Just the faintest hint of an echo of magical current, a strange resonance of an old spell. Max almost ignored it, and then realised that it was the only thing he had spotted so far. He focused his mind on it, drew on whatever magical power he could and followed the resonance trace.
It was like touching gossamer, a trace so faint that for several heartbeats Max was not sure that he had encountered anything at all. Perhaps he was imagining it. At first it truly seemed as if there was nothing there, then he noticed just the faintest hint of a weave so thin and so complex it seemed well nigh impossible that any human sorcerer could have woven it. He moved his awareness to a new level, shutting out all external visual stimuli and the pattern expanded to fill his field of vision.
As certainty bloomed within him Max was suddenly overcome with awe. He knew he was looking on spellwork of the highest order, far beyond anything he himself could perform, possibly far beyond anything anyone now living could perform. Someone had bound the most slender filaments of dark magical energy into th
e talisman in a way that was almost beyond Max’s ability to perceive, let alone unravel. And they had done this beneath a cloaking spell so subtle that Max had almost missed it entirely.
Max knew that he was dealing with the work of one of the true masters. Perhaps the mysterious Adolphus Krieger did have a good reason for wanting this thing after all, although, as yet, Max could discern no hint of the thing’s purpose. He was guided only by the suspicion that it was no good one. Few indeed were those who worked with dark magical energies for the benefit of mankind. He checked and rechecked his mental defences and wove the swiftest, most powerful wards around himself before continuing.
By concentrating all his powers he could just about manage to make out the pattern. He selected one thin strand of energy and began to follow it. It was an exercise he had performed many times during his apprenticeship, studying the weaves of spells cast by his tutors: now the stakes were much higher. He knew he truly had to be careful now. Anyone capable of going to so much trouble to shield the true power of the talisman was more than capable of leaving booby traps for those who might seek to uncover its secrets.
He traced the weave slowly, gingerly, like a man advancing along a rotten wooden bridge over a chasm that he knows might give way at any moment. Slowly he began to discern the order and logic of the pattern. There was some sort of zone of compulsion locked on the talisman, designed to affect minds other than human, although what sort was not entirely clear. That spell was layered over and interwoven with several other spells. Max could see that the user could somehow draw on the energies of dark magic through a lattice so subtle and powerful that it filled his mind with the sort of awe that an architect might feel in the inner sanctum of the great Temple of Sigmar in Altdorf. Max knew, without doubt, that he was looking on a work of genius.
As he continued he saw that these spells were interwoven with dozens of others, the purposes of which he could not divine. It was breathtaking. He no longer doubted that Adolphus Krieger, or whatever his real name was, really did want the Eye. If he had even an inkling of the thing’s true power, any dark magician would kill for this artefact.
