The color drained from Augustina’s face at the mention of her home country. She had planned to go there in secret to find the Black Rod, not to overthrow an entire blasted government! Now she knew it was a cruel joke. “M-my Lord,” she stammered. “Surely you know that I can’t…openly reveal myself in Rhinland.”
Of course he did. The smug look he displayed said it all. Augustina was wanted for murder and subject to immediate arrest and execution in Rhinland.
“You needn’t worry about that,” Mylen said in a charming voice. “We can change your hair color, and you will not be outdoors much.”
“And I suppose for extra measure I should keep my head meekly lowered?” Augustina’s mouth twisted into a frown when she realized she had let these words slip out.
Mylen smiled. “I forgot you were a highborn lady in your land, Augustina. You should take pride then, in serving me, for I am also highborn and greater than any.”
Augustina immediately shot a bewildered look at Divhan. The Dark Lord shifted uncomfortably in his chair and raised his hand in the customary Boathean fashion of parting.
“Have a safe journey, my Ladies, and may the Lord of the Underworld give you victory.”
Mylen reverently tilted her head at the mention of the god Dehawk, whom all dark mages professed to serve.
“Farewell, my Lord.” Augustina curtsied.
“Goodbye, Ialen Divhan,” Mylen unceremoniously added. “And Augustina will complete her training with me. It seems you’ve actually started to believe that you were a Cleric…a true servant of Dehawk.”
Divhan stared blankly at her although he was clearly trying to control his anger. Augustina calmed her features, hiding the shock of seeing someone treating Lord Divhan with such little regard. Who was this woman?
Mylen readjusted her hood and swiftly headed toward the exit. Augustina trailed behind her. Just as they reached the hall door, Mylen paused and faced Augustina.
“I think red hair will go nicely on you.”
Augustina had to force herself not to protectively grab her golden locks. “I…was thinking the same thing.”
The other woman’s lips curved into an ingratiating smile. “We shall see how alike we think.”
“Mistress?”
“What is it?”
“Forgive me, but has anyone ever told you that you resemble—”
“Yes, and I wish they wouldn’t.”
Augustina knew to leave it at that. She followed her through the doorway, now with even more questions running through her mind.
Carving a path for herself through the mass of people assembled in the merchant district, Augustina made her way from the courier station down to an apothecary that had caught her eye. She approached the building and checked for the tiny blackbird symbol etched in the doorframe before noting the name of the medicine shop: Cosgrove Herbs.
Though she wore a thick cloak over her dress and a surcoat, she still shivered when the chilly autumn air blasted in her direction. She wrapped her arms around herself and entered the shop, quickly closing the front door to shut out the icy temperature and the clamor of voices in the streets.
The apothecary was small, but warm. Wood burned on a hearth in one of the corners, and the walls were lined with shelves of jars and small cases. A small chair sat in one of the corners, and a large fur rug decorated the otherwise plain floor. Behind the counter stood an old woman who looked about sixty. Her gray hair was pulled back and a dark blue dress adorned her frail figure.
“Excuse me, are you the proprietor of this shop?” Augustina walked over to the hearth and warmed her hands.
The old woman put away the scroll she was reading and looked up. “Yes, I am. My name is Eliathe, how can I help you?”
“I was interested in seeing your special items.”
Eliathe’s black eyes narrowed. “My special items? If you mean the whiteflower salve and the mending tonics, then I’ll have you know that I don’t sell them to young women off the street. They are for medics only.”
Pulling back the hood of her cloak and letting her red curls spill forth, Augustina retorted, “Actually, I meant your other special items.”
The old woman, though small and slim, stood inches higher in her indignation. “Those are my special items. What kind of place do you think this is, girl?”
“Isn’t that a blackbird symbol carved in your door frame?”
“I don’t know…I never noticed. I suppose whoever owned this shop last was the one who made that.”
“If you think I’m a spy for the King’s Guard or a witch-hunter, rest assured that I am neither.”
“Why would I be concerned about that? Just because I’m a medicine woman—”
“What is it that you truly sell, Eliathe? When the other shops close and certain clients wait in the back alley to buy and exchange. What is it that you give them?”
“Get out of here!”
“Answer me, old woman.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who won’t say a word about you if you cooperate.”
“What do you want?”
“I already told you.” Augustina approached the counter rested her hands on its surface.
“Well I don’t have much today, but I can show you what I have in the back room.”
“Very well then.” She walked around the counter and followed the old woman down the hallway and into the storage room.
Eliathe handed her a lit candle and stepped onto a stool so she could reach for a large crate sitting on one of the higher shelves. When she brought down the crate, she let it drop near Augustina’s feet. As she wiped the dust from her hands with a nearby cloth, Eliathe motioned for Augustina to open the crate.
She rummaged through the crate’s contents. There were potions made from the Letha flower, a few spell scrolls for curses, and other useless items Augustina couldn’t use.
“Is this all you have?” she asked, exasperated.
“What were you looking for?” Eliathe shot back, still eyeing her with that hawk-like gaze.
“I’m not interested in potions or trinkets,” Augustina said. “I want scrolls.”
“There are some in that box.”
“If I wanted to harm or kill someone, I wouldn’t need those stupid things. I can do magic on my own.”
“Then what kind of scrolls are you looking for?”
“Arcane ones. I am already advanced in my training, and I wish to study what has been lost.”
Eliathe grunted. “Advanced you say? You’re so advanced that you’re threatening an old woman and rummaging through her crates?”
“Watch your tongue, Eliathe. I am not to be trifled with.” Augustina uncloaked herself and let the scent of her power fill the room. She was nowhere near as powerful as Mylen, but she knew that she was powerful enough to frighten this old hag witless.
Eliathe nearly fell off her stool and held onto the shelf for support. “I apologize, Miss. Please, allow me to help you any way that I can.”
“I’ve been to three other apothecaries besides yours. Are there any others I can visit?”
Eliathe descended from the stool and regained her composure. “Yes, and I think it’s one that might have the kind of things you’re looking for. It’s a small medicine shop right outside the city on the Westside. An acquaintance of mine, Hanwel, works there. He’s a collector of spell scrolls, and old documents and maps.”
“Interesting,” Augustina said.
“But he doesn’t sell them—he just collects them.”
“Well, perhaps I can convince him if he has what I want. Send a letter to him letting him know I will visit within the week.”
“Yes, of course.”
Without another word, Augustina turned and exited the storage room. On her way out of the apothecary, she wondered how she would be able to visit Hanwel’s shop if Mylen had no more letters for her to take down to the courier station. It had occurred to her to simply admit what she was up to and ask her mistress p
ermission to continue her quest.
She had learned that the other woman was nothing like her, and probably wouldn’t even covet the Black Rod. In truth, the woman puzzled her, because besides Lord Ronan, Augustina had never met a dark mage who truly believed in serving Dehawk as their god.
But Mylen was a true believer if she ever saw one. The woman sincerely felt her sole mission was to return to Boathe and rebuild Temple Dehawk.
“Let her have her Temple,” Augustina murmured to herself as she approached the small house she shared with Mylen. “Let her have it, and let me have what I want.”
And she wanted no less than supreme power.
The sweet aroma of herbs and spiced elixirs filled Hanwel’s medicine shop. Cases lined along the walls of the first floor were filled with the usual bottles, books, and pouches found in apothecaries, and a small staircase leading to a second floor stood to the far right of the entry room. Hanwel sat across from the staircase behind a large desk, where bills of sale were piled to one side. Trying to look as poised as he probably had in his youth, he greeted Augustina with a smile.
“Welcome, miss. How may I be of service today? I have the finest Yew-flower available this week, just imported from the Rhinland Islands. Or, if you like, new remedies from afar, which are said to heal even the most painful headaches.”
Augustina smiled as she approached the large desk. She had no doubt the old man had delivered this line many times over, but she was amused by the fresh way he gave it. “Hanwel, I am the woman your friend Eliathe spoke of. I am interested in purchasing some unique items.”
Hanwel’s eyes glinted. “Yes…yes, of course, but you do know that I’m a collector of…special artifacts. I only sell medicines and remedies.”
“I was hoping you could make an exception. In my experience, almost anything can be bought for the right price.”
Instead of taking offense or raising an objection, he stood and offered her his hand in the customary fashion of business partners. “Indeed, my dear.” He lightly shook her hand. “May I ask what object in particular you are interested in viewing?”
She had already decided how she would answer. “A powerful scroll that will curse one’s enemies. Eliathe said you had such a thing.”
“I don’t know how experienced you are young lady, but a curse scroll is no mere toy. I hope you understand that?”
Augustina nodded. “I also understand that you wish to have no connection to it if I am caught or if it falls into the wrong hands.”
“That’s if I decide to sell it to you.” He bent down to unlock and open one of the desk’s compartments.
“Name your price old man,” Augustina said with an edge of irritation. “I have plenty gold.” She loosened a medium-sized pouch from her belt and tossed it onto the desk.
Hanwel ignored the enticing clink the bag of coins made as it hit the surface. Closing and locking the compartment he had opened, he stood and presented a necklace with what appeared to be a small crystal pendant attached. When Augustina recognized what it was, she cursed under her breath and took a step back.
“Now miss,” Hanwel said in a smooth voice, “just how badly do you want that scroll?”
“Are you saying you don’t want the gold?” Her eyes widened in disgust at the necklace.
“I thought you were the one who said everything could be bought at the right price. And this,” —he dangled the necklace—“is the right price.”
She now realized he was more dangerous than Eliathe.
He would have to die.
The necklace that seemed normal to the ignorant eye was in fact a submission charm. Augustina had seen several slaves in Boathe wearing them. A mage would activate the charm through incantations and dipping the crystal pendant in the intended person’s blood. It would magically bind that person. Any command must be obeyed and any request fulfilled. If the master of the pendant wished, he could end the bound person’s life in a variety of ways. If this old fool thought she was going to let him bind her with a submission charm, he was clearly out of his mind.
“What would be the purpose of letting you bind me?” She eyed him warily.
“Oh, don’t worry that I won’t give you the scroll,” he said, walking around the desk and approaching Augustina. “And I won’t even keep you here. All you have to do is come when I call you.”
“And what would you call me for?” She raised an eyebrow. His wolfish grin, however, said it all.
She almost wanted to burst out laughing and engulf the lecherous man in flames. But she didn’t want to do anything to him until she saw his inventory. “You…you can’t possibly think I am the type of woman to just…” she began in a mock-tone of offense.
Chuckling, Hanwel clasped the necklace in one hand while caressing Augustina’s arm with the other. “Let’s not pretend to be innocent and coy. I doubt someone seeking a curse scroll is a person of high moral character, and besides…if you don’t accept this, I won’t give you your precious scroll.”
“I’ll tell the magistrate about you. I’ll expose you as a dark mage.”
“Go ahead and try. Once you leave my shop, you’ll forget we ever had this conversation. Are you a mage too?”
If he had wards and spells around the shop’s front door, where else could he have laid spells? And what kind of safeguards did he have against other mages? In any case, it would be best not to deny who she was.
“I know some things about the ways of magic, and I practice whenever I can. I feel that I’m able to handle a simple spell scroll.”
Hanwel’s eyes brightened. “Ah, then you do want the curse scroll?”
She took a step back when he edged closer. “Y-yes, but I still don’t trust you. Let me see…no, let me hold the scroll first, and then I will do as you say.”
He stared at her for a few moments before finally acquiescing. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you take a look.”
She wanted to protest when he motioned toward the staircase; the last place she wanted him to be was behind her, but she had little choice. He was probably just as suspicious of her as she was of him, despite his advantage. But didn’t she have one of her own? He obviously thought her somewhat weak if she had come to him seeking the aid of a scroll when many capable mages could perform curses on their own.
She marched upstairs with Hanwel behind her, pace steady and left hand clinging to the smooth rail. When she reached the large upper-room, she paused and took in the rather impressive scene. Enchanted swords were mounted along the walls, some of them probably relics from the Ancient Age. Augustina could sense spells of fire, poison, ice, and thunder emanating from the mounted swords. The shiny gleam of the weapons indicated they were meticulously cared for.
Several ornate chests sat in rows along the floor, flaunting large keyholes. In the center of the room stood a pedestal where a fist-sized jewel rested. It swirled with colors. Augustina had the urge to rush over to the jewel and snatch it, but she thought better of it. She was not sure what particular enchantment the precious stone had, but it would be well worth stealing once she had obtained what she came for.
“This is a wonderful collection, Hanwel.”
There was a proud gleam in his eye as he pulled a key ring from his belt. “Exactly. Now do you see why I guard my goods so jealously? And why I refuse to sell?”
She nodded, still eyeing the jewel in the center display. “All your years, you’ve collected such things, and no one’s ever seen this?”
“Do you mean those who would turn me in if they ever saw this? Ha! When a non-mage comes up here, all he sees is a dusty old room with some strongboxes sitting on the floor. And, as of yet, I’ve never had a mage in this shop who wasn’t a dark mage.”
“I’ve known people who’ve collected magical artifacts for pleasure,” she said, tracing the intricate pattern of one of the chests with her forefinger. “But this goes beyond a mere hobby. You keep these treasures as if you’re saving them for someone…or something.”
The keys on the key ring he held clanked as he unlocked one of the chests. “You might say that,” he mumbled.
She wondered if he was keeping the artifacts for the dark mage who would take the Rhinlandian throne by force—the same mage she and Mylen were sent to aid. If this was the case, then the old man could not be so easily killed and disposed of. This made retrieving the map even more difficult, assuming it was even hidden in this shop.
For a second she thought of identifying herself and asking Hanwel to give her the map, but she doubted he would cooperate, even if he did believe who she was. Perhaps the trick was to instead use the influence of the Lady she served. If he pledged loyalty to a Deh’anin Lord, then wouldn’t he do anything at the request of a Lady Deh’anin?
“Old man, I will be truthful with you. I am not here for a curse scroll.”
With raised eyebrow, he asked, “Oh? Then what are you here for, Augustina d’Hura?”
Her heart skipped a beat when he mentioned her name.
“What did you say?”
“I recognize you, though you’ve changed your appearance somewhat. There’s a handsome reward for your capture, you know.”
“Then that is why you wanted me under the control of your obedience charm? So you could hand me over for gold? You treacherous coward.”
“Treacherous? Didn’t you kill your own husband?” He chuckled when he saw her grow more incensed.
“Do you think I’m a fool to return to this country if not for something as important as my life? More than my life? If you tell anyone about me, the Lady I serve will see to it that you suffer worse than a thousand deaths.” When the expression on his face told her he was unimpressed, she added, “Like you, I serve those with the Mark of Power.”
“You lie,” he shot back. “I know of only a few others in this country who are true servants, and you are not one of them.”
“I wasn’t until recently, I assure you. But how else would I know about them? Or that the mage for whom you’re keeping these treasures is at this moment poised to strike down King Evien and take the country?”
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 102
