The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 2

by James E. Wisher

  “Unless you want to watch, I say we go now. I need to open the lock then close it again. Not exactly something best done with a pack of demon things breathing down your neck.”

  Rondo grabbed Polymus by the hair. “After you.”

  “What about my body?” Polymus asked.

  Shade shrugged. “We don’t really need it. Your brain has everything the boss is interested in.”

  He grabbed their gear and led the way while Rondo fell in behind. They hurried up the dark passage and soon found themselves at the heavy steel bars of the hybrid’s cage. There were six inches between them and those humanoid hybrids were pretty skinny. If they could squeeze through the gaps, Rondo and Shade were going to be in trouble.

  The heavy lock clicked open just as a crash came from the lab.

  “Sounds like they’re through the door.” Rondo stepped into the cage and Shade joined him before getting to work locking them in.

  Any second now Rondo expected to see a line of glowing eyes come charging down the tunnel. When nearly a minute passed with no sign of them, he asked, “Where are they?”

  Shade clicked the lock shut and stepped back to a safe distance. “Who cares?”

  “They’re tearing my body to pieces,” Polymus said in a surprisingly calm tone. “Don’t worry, they’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  That was exactly what worried Rondo, not that there was anything he could do about it.

  Rondo tried to count his heartbeats, but they were rushing by too fast. Finally, Shade said, “Here they come.”

  A moment later Rondo spotted the red eyes approaching. They didn’t come running which surprised him. Did they somehow know their enemies were trapped? That was a horrifying thought.

  At last all six stood facing the cage. In the dim light from the ceiling hole he finally got a good look at the possessed creatures. Their basic features hadn’t changed much. They were still recognizably humanoid, but everything had taken on a sharp aspect. The teeth were longer, bone spurs had burst from their elbows and knees, and their claws had grown twice as long.

  “Maybe if you asked them nicely to go away,” Rondo said to Polymus.

  “Run along, my pets,” Polymus said. “Return to your niches and go back into hibernation.”

  The monsters just stared then as one they grabbed the bars and started yanking on them. The steel didn’t give, though the cage door rattled horribly.

  Over the din Polymus said, “Told you they wouldn’t obey.”

  If there was one thing nobody liked it was a know-it-all head. Rondo backed away from the monsters until his spine touched the far wall. Only twenty steel bars and thirty feet of open space separated him from death. It wasn’t an especially nice place to find yourself.

  Rondo glanced at Shade. “What now?”

  “Now we wait and see if the boss gets here before those things break down the bars.” Shade sat, stuck his legs out, leaned back, and put his hands behind his head, looking for all the world like a man at the beach.

  Rondo wished he could be as resigned since he was just as helpless.

  Chapter 9

  A rat skittered across the alley ten feet in front of Callie. She’d visited the capital plenty of times, but never had any need or desire to visit the poorer sections. Heaps of snow lay in half-melted piles stained brown and yellow. She tried her best to ignore the many smells attempting to choke her to death. The buildings all leaned one way or another. They looked like a strong wind would blow them over. The king should really do something about the area. Not everyone could be rich, but this was an insult.

  Erikson walked ahead of her, leading the way to the rundown building that was supposed to be a hangout for the local criminal population. They had both changed out of their blue uniforms and were now dressed in rough leathers and battered boots. Erikson wore a pair of daggers at his belt and another pair in his boots. And he wore them easily, not something she would have expected from one of her bards. Clearly his experience with this part of the world wasn’t just talk. Callie had contented herself with a short sword worn crossways at the small of her back. She hadn’t wielded a sword in decades. Besides, if it became necessary, they’d already failed in their mission.

  “Tell me more about your contact,” Callie said.

  “She goes by the name Lark. Probably not her real name, but it’s the only one I ever heard. She’s an information broker. Before I learned I was a bard, I did her a favor. Hopefully, she remembers.”

  “Can we trust her?”

  “No. As soon as she finds out what we want, she’ll try to sell the information to someone.” Erikson shrugged. “Nature of the game, Callie. People around here are just trying to survive. Most of them don’t care if you survive too.”

  “Charming.” Callie reached back and touched the worn hilt of her sword. What had she gotten herself into?

  Five minutes later they stood across the street from a nearly collapsed building from which a fast drumbeat emerged. Someone ducked out from between two walls held up more by hope than anything else.

  As the person – Callie couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman from this distance – staggered off, she looked at Erikson. “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s sturdier than it looks. The inside has been reinforced. The owners just keep the exterior looking rough to keep anyone from looking too closely at it during the day. Of course, everyone around here knows about The Crash, even the guards, not that they patrol the area very heavily.”

  “The Crash?”

  “The owner, whoever it is, has a sick sense of humor. Come on, it’s late enough now, Lark should be there.”

  Callie looked up but saw no sign of Tonia. Not that she didn’t trust her to be where she was supposed to be but seeing her would have done Callie’s nerves good. She’d been teaching too long. Field work was for the youngsters.

  But there was no backing out now. She followed Erikson across the street and between the broken walls. A spicy, scented smoke filled the air and probably covered the nastier smells underneath.

  When she mentioned it to Erikson he said, “That’s the happy smoke. Takes the edge off the guests and keeps stabbings to a minimum. It won’t fog your brain or anything, it just dulls the emotions. The working girls hate it. They can’t get the guys really, uh, excited in here.”

  A few steps inside, the ruined exterior gave way to an open common room. There were no tables. People just stood holding their drinks and talking. How they could hear anything over the drummer in the corner was beyond her. Callie was already getting a headache. She hummed softly and applied her healing ability to herself, washing away both the headache and the effects of the smoke.

  Erikson paused and took in the scene. Callie stayed silent, her eyes darting left and right as she searched for potential trouble. The gathering was mostly young and underfed. She had to be the oldest person here by fifteen years. She swallowed a sigh. As if she needed another reminder that she was getting old.

  “There she is,” he said.

  They crossed the room and made straight for a woman in her twenties dressed in all blue. She spotted them coming at once, stared at Erikson, did a double take, and broke into a smile.

  She met him partway across the room and leapt into his arms. Erikson swung her around once before lowering her to the floor.

  “Never figured on seeing you again,” Lark said. She had a high, bright voice like a bird call. Probably how she got her nickname.

  “Yeah, things have been kind of crazy since I left. Lark, this is Callie, my new boss.”

  Lark gave Callie an appraising look which she returned. Finally, the information broker turned away. “So you didn’t come back just to see me?”

  “Afraid not. We need some information and I told Callie you were the one to talk to.”

  “You got that right anyway. What’s up?”

  “We’re looking for representatives of a group called the Dark Sages,” Callie said.

  From the look on Lark’s
face you’d have thought Callie had threatened to cut her heart out and roast it over an open fire.

  “You don’t want to have anything to do with them,” Lark said. “Best if you just walk on out of here and forget you ever heard that name.”

  “They’re a threat to the kingdom,” Callie said. “Dealing with them is our job. You clearly know something.”

  “Yeah, I know enough to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Come on, Lark,” Erikson said. “There’s bad stuff coming. Stuff you can’t hide from. But you might be able to help stop it.”

  She looked away, clearly torn between wanting to help and fearing what might happen if she did. Callie was more worried about what might happen if she refused to help.

  At last she made up her mind. “I can give you a name, but that’s it. Goldings.”

  “Wait,” Callie said. “As in the Goldings? The shipping tycoon?”

  “I’ve got nothing more to say on the subject. In fact, all I’ll say is be careful and go away.”

  “Thanks, Lark,” Erikson said. “It was good seeing you.”

  “You too. Now get out of here.”

  Erikson and Callie left The Crash and hurried three streets away before Callie stopped and tried to collect her thoughts. The Goldings were one of the most powerful families in Rend. The patriarch, Tolin, met regularly with the king. No way could Callie make an accusation against them with nothing but the word of an information broker to back her up.

  An hour after dawn found Yaz and his companions walking past the Doormans’ mansion in Gold Alley. Yaz suspected it could’ve housed the entire population of Dragonspire Village with room to spare. An iron fence surrounded the grounds, but it was only six feet tall and had no spikes at the top. A long cobblestone path leading from the road to the mansion had been shoveled clean of snow.

  The only sign that there might be guards was a single path through the snow that had been trod down by repeated passage. It didn’t look like the guards varied the routes so if it came down to it they’d have no trouble avoiding them. Of course, if they were to try sneaking in, they were sure to leave a very obvious trail through the snow. They needed to find an alternative.

  They turned away from the mansion and angled toward a nearby inn. Smoke was rising out of the chimney promising a warm break from the cold. The building looked far nicer than any of the inns that they’d stayed at so far. It had neat cedar shakes covering the walls, clear glass windows, and a freshly swept porch leading to the door. Hopefully they didn’t get turned aside before they could find somewhere to sit.

  “How can people afford places like that mansion?” Brigid asked.

  She was still upset with him about killing the slavers the night before, but not as upset as she had been the first time he needed to make a difficult decision. She seemed to be making peace with the necessity of his choices and thank goodness for that. It was hard for Yaz to make the hard calls when he had her glaring at him all the time.

  “Sometimes you know the right people. Sometimes you get lucky. And sometimes it’s just hard work,” Yaz said. “I can’t say how the Doormans managed it. The fact that they have slaves in their house fighting death matches makes me think they probably didn’t get it ethically.”

  “You’re too young to be so cynical,” Silas said.

  Yaz snorted and led the way up the stairs to the door. He pushed it open and the bell tinkled when the door hit it.

  The interior of the inn was every bit as fine as the exterior. The chairs in the common room were all padded and leather covered, the tops of the tables were smooth and polished, and every table had a setting with silverware and porcelain dishes. Yaz was relieved they had saved as much money as they had during their travels as even a single night here was going to cost a fortune.

  They had barely taken a step inside when a man dressed in a black-and-white tunic and trousers rushed up flicking his fingers at them. “No, no,” he said. “You must go.”

  Yaz pulled out a single gold scale and let him see it. “We need food and a room.”

  Immediately his frown turned to a smile and he opened his arms in greeting. “Welcome to the Golden Goose, my friends. We only have two other parties at the moment so we can easily accommodate you. Will you be sharing a single room?”

  “We will,” Yaz said. “How much for the night?”

  “You will find our prices most reasonable. Only a single gold scale for each of you plus of course the cost of meals which are three silver scales apiece.”

  Yaz nearly choked on the price but kept his expression even. “That’ll be fine.” He took out two more gold scales and handed them to the man. “If you’d show us our room, we’d like to get cleaned up before we eat.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say exactly that. Please follow me.”

  He led them across the empty common room and up a flight of steps to the second floor. He went down a short hall lined with doors, opening the third one for them. “Here you are. Please come down as soon as you’re ready.”

  He started to leave when Yaz said, “What about the key?”

  “Our doors don’t lock from the outside. We admit only the finest clientele so there’s no need to be concerned about your property when you’re gone. Rest assured, anything you leave here will still be here when you get back.” So saying he left to return to the common room.

  “Do you believe that nonsense?” Silas asked.

  “I believe that he believes it,” Yaz said. “How much do you want to bet that most people staying here have a servant that remains behind to protect their stuff when they’re out?”

  The wizard grinned and led the way into the room. Two feather beds dominated the space. Mahogany stands sat beside them. The sheets shimmered like silk and there was a porcelain basin and jug of water on the dressing stand featuring a mirror nearly as tall as Yaz.

  “This is so nice,” Brigid said.

  “Yeah, but three nights and we’d be bankrupt.” At least there was a bolt on the inside which Yaz threw as soon as he closed the door. “Are we close enough for you to scout out the mansion?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Silas said.

  Silas opened the pouch at his belt and let Wicked out. The little undead flew around the room before settling to hover over its master’s head. Silas sat on the edge of the bed closest the window, closed his eyes, and murmured a spell.

  While he worked, Brigid settled on the second bed. She let out a sigh. “This is so soft. It would be like sleeping on air.”

  Yaz stifled a sigh of his own. He wished someday they could go on a real trip where he could show her some of the finer things in the world without having to worry about someone trying to kill them or having to rescue someone or anything like that. He feared that day wasn’t likely to come, certainly not anytime soon.

  “I found them,” Silas said, his eyes still closed. “Ten of the biggest men I’ve ever seen are being held in cages in the basement. Upstairs, servants are setting tables covered in white linens. In the kitchen about twenty cooks are busy preparing hors d’oeuvres by the score. The party and the battle have to be tonight. Unfortunately, I can’t see what it is they’re supposed to be fighting.”

  “They’re probably bringing in the opponents later,” Yaz said. “It doesn’t make much difference. If the party is tonight, we need to find some way to get inside. Do you see anything likely?”

  “There are four entrances to the mansion, but they all have guards watching them, two per door. I don’t think sneaking in is going to be a possibility. Maybe you could just mingle with the guests as they arrive.”

  “Maybe,” Yaz said. “Thanks, Silas. I think we know all we need.”

  The wizard opened his eyes. “Sorry I didn’t get better news.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get cleaned up and get something to eat. Maybe one of us will have a brilliant idea.”

  The food at the Golden Goose was nearly good enough to justify the ridiculous
price. Yaz and the others had been sitting at one of the corner tables for hours nursing their drinks and trying to come up with a plan for infiltrating the mansion. They didn’t discuss anything out loud, instead each was lost in their own thoughts. Try as he might, Yaz simply couldn’t come up with an idea that had a reasonable chance of success. Given the silence, he doubted Silas and Brigid were having any better luck.

  The dull thud of footsteps on the hardwood floors drew his attention to the staircase. A well-dressed couple was just emerging from upstairs. The silks, furs, and jewels they were wearing probably cost more than everything Yaz had owned in his entire life. The waiter greeted the couple eagerly and led them to a table near the center of the room. After they ordered the most expensive wine in the cellar, the waiter asked, “Would you like anything special for dinner? If we don’t have it we can certainly get it.”

  “Thank you, Gerard,” the man said. “We’re attending a get-together tonight at the Doormans’. I understand food will be served so we probably won’t be back in time for dinner.”

  “How nice,” Gerard said with a slightly sour note to his voice. “The Doormans visit us for a meal now and again. Lovely people, excellent tippers. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the itinerary for the party?”

  “They’ve arranged some fights,” the woman said. “I won’t deny being a bit nervous about the whole thing. Jenny assures me it’s great fun though a bit messy.”

  “I heard they had a new arena installed.” Gerard scratched his chin and smiled. “I’m sure it will be quite a show. Excuse me while I get your order in.”

  The couple started discussing what they might wear that night, but Yaz tuned them out. He had his way in, now it was just a matter of waiting.

  While the rich couple ate their stuffed squab and sipped their expensive wine, Yaz quietly explained his plan to Brigid and Silas. It wasn’t terribly complicated. When the pair went upstairs to get ready, they’d follow them, take them out from behind, and assume their identities to enter the party. Hopefully, they had some invitations in their room and weren’t just old friends of the Doormans. That could lead to some awkward questions. He shook off his concern. If they were friends, they’d be staying at the mansion not at an inn.