by Paul Barrett
The steps led up to a wooden door. Quinitas opened it, peered out, and slid into the hallway. We joined him.
If I thought the Clan’s secondary manor or Siralanna’s house reeked of splendor, this mansion made it look like a shack. Lightglobes lined the hallways and gave off soft moon-like illumination. They lit the living leaves and vines that covered the walls. Broad-leaf trees occupied the larger chambers, reaching to the high ceiling and burrowing into the marble floor. Birds occupied some of the trees. The entire dwelling had the fresh smell of a forest on a warm spring day. It made me want to sneeze.
Furniture littered the rooms, crafted of a strange mixture of wood and silver. We moved through a large dining room with a table big enough to feed a small garrison. The sitting room might hold thirty people, all of them able to rest in high backed chairs with golden velvet cushions. My office would fit five times over in the gaming parlor.
The one thing we didn’t see was other elves. It made me uneasy. The quiet spooked me.
We started up the grand staircase, so named because it probably could have held a thousand people. I hustled up next to Quinitas. “Is it always this desolate?”
“No,” he admitted. “I had hoped to convince some of them to help so that it wasn’t just us.”
I wondered if maybe Siralanna had already brought them to her side. It’s tough to maintain secrets in a Clan, especially big ones like being a necromancer. Quinitas was the one always away on business. He might be on the outside and not realize it. I decided it wouldn’t be in my best interest to mention that. “Telling them about her little hobby of playing with dead things as soon as you found out might have been the smart thing.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I had hoped to handle it quietly, just between us. That went to the wind as soon as she hired you. She is still my sister and a Greenstreet. She can be turned from this path.”
His faith in family had gone from belief to blind spot. Another observation I kept to myself. “Where do you think everyone is?”
“I don’t know. At least it gives us the advantage right now.”
I wished I had his optimism. Something in the air felt wrong. A thunderstorm in winter wrong. Unnatural energy whispered at the edges of my thoughts. I didn’t know where we would find the elves. I had a hunch that when we did, we weren’t going to be celebrating the reunion.
We had reached the top of the staircase and walked down another wide, vine-laden hall. All the greenery was beginning to make me itch. We stopped at a pair of wooden doors carved in curlicues and leaf patterns. Quinitas grabbed the silver handles, twisted, and pushed them open.
His room had the opulent air of the rest of the manor. A four-poster bed large enough to sleep my entire family sat in the center, covered in gossamer fabrics. Furniture of teak and mahogany filled the chamber. Dressers, chairs, tables. A faint scent of honeysuckle hit my nose. I knew it only because I had encountered it during the war. It wasn’t a fragrance typically found in Mage City.
Once we had all filed in, Quinitas closed and locked the doors. He pointed to a tall, wide cabinet of glass and blond wood. It had four shelves, each covered by a door with a brass knob. “Someone please go to the second shelf from the top and get the katho leaf.”
We stared at him for several seconds before I said, “Which one would that be?”
“Green with purple bulbs. Looks similar to mistletoe.”
I had never seen mistletoe either. Liz said, “I’ll get it. I doubt you could reach it, Spade.”
I would have stuck my tongue out at her if she hadn’t been right. She walked over, lifted the glass door, and studied the various items. She finally grabbed a spindly plant with broad leaves and what looked like tiny purple beads in clumps of five. She brought it over to Quinitas. He took it and set it on a table beside the bed. He looked at the manacles. Looked at me. “I wish your little friend was here with his lock picks.”
“I wish he was here with anything,” I said, working to keep my voice level. He was okay. He had escaped. I had to believe that.
Quinitas put his hands on my shoulders, although the chain made it difficult. The cold metal pressed against my throat. “Break my hands.”
“What?” I asked him. I took a step back from both the chain and the request.
“Break my hands,” he repeated. “I’ll slip them through the manacles and then heal them with the katho.”
I hesitated. A few days ago, I would have been happy to oblige him. But I had grown to, if not like, at least respect the elf. It’s one thing to hurt someone in the course of protecting myself or because they pissed me off. To do it when they’re sitting there waiting for it to happen is more difficult. “I don’t know if I—”
“I’ll do it,” Klaus walked toward Quinitas.
“I’ll do it,” I said after taking one look at the hobgoblin’s giant paws and intense stare. “I want him to still have some bones left to heal.”
Klaus snorted in offense. “I can be gentle.”
“Yeah, but would you?” I asked. “I’ll do it.”
“Fine,” the hob said. Disappointment filled his voice and broad face. “I wanted to do it. I’ve never broken an elf’s hands before.”
I didn’t want to ask him whose hands he had broken before.
I looked at Quinitas. “You ready?”
“Are you ever ready for something like this?”
I nodded and took his hand. It was thin and long-fingered, pale as the rest of him. His perfectly manicured fingernails actually shone. Gripping my gnarled hands around his was like placing a gleaming vase in a fish wrapper.
“On the count of three,” I said and immediately crushed his hand. A human’s hand would have been more difficult, but elves are delicate. I heard and felt the bones snap beneath my grip. Quinitas sucked in a breath and his eyes closed. He didn’t scream or faint. Delicate but tough. Elves in a nutshell.
I moved to take his other hand. He pulled back, quicker than me. I leveled a stare at him. “You asked me to do it,” I said.
After the briefest hesitation, he held out the hand. The first one hung limp and curled like a dead, pale spider. I took his other hand. Broke it without even the false declaration of a countdown. The faintest whimper escaped him. Impressive. I had expected tears and vomiting.
“Now slip the manacles off,” he said through clenched teeth.
I did so. The bones gave an unpleasant grinding sound, like stones rubbing against one another. He squeezed his eyes tight. Pressed his lips together. Kicked at the floor with a foot. Within seconds I had the cuffs off. I didn’t want to imagine the agony of that time.
“I would say thank you, but—”
“Don’t,” I said. “It’s too weird.”
He took several deep breaths. Placed his hands over the plant on the table. He chanted more sing-song Elvish. At first, the words came out strained, forced out between pants of breath. Within half a minute he sounded normal. Within a minute he lifted his hands from the table and flexed his fingers. He had wholly healed them. I looked at the plant. It appeared as if had been in the sun for months. All the berries were gone. Purple spots dotted the table.
“That’s amazing,” Liz said.
“There’s a reason I’m Clanmage,” Quinitas told her, his arrogance back with his power. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get you some weapons, then go find my sister and put an end to this.”
We left his bedchamber and walked back down the hallway. Heading for the armory, I assumed. We still hadn’t seen any sign of another living person. No guards. No servants. Not even a pet cat. The manor’s seeming abandonment had my nerves dancing like a bard’s harp strings.
And it wasn’t just me. Liz’s head darted back and forth as she tried to look at everyone. Her tongue flicked in nervous agitation.
As we reached the bottom of the grand staircase, Quinitas finally expressed concern. “I don’t like this,” he said. “It’s too soon.”
“What’s too soon?” I as
ked
He started as if I had caught him with his hand down his pants. “Too soon for the summoning ceremony. It’s not supposed to happen until both moons are full dark. That’s not until tomorrow, which is why we need to destroy the machine tonight.”
“Can she do the ritual without full dark?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know,” Quinitas admitted. “I don’t think so, but that sort of magic isn’t my specialty.”
“Then we need to be extra careful,” I said. “Because if it is tonight, your sister will be on high alert. She’s probably going to have a ton of guards, undead or otherwise. For all we know, the people that were here in the manor are wherever she is making sure she’s protected.”
“They’re with her,” Quinitas agreed. “But they’re not there to protect her.”
“Then why?” I asked.
His gaze dropped to the floor. “The ceremony requires a lot of blood.”
I stared at him, stumped. “Remind me again why you didn’t chop her head off the second you learned about all this.”
“Because I’d like to think she can return to reason. She’s not evil; she’s just overreacting.”
I laughed. It was the only possible reaction to such a ridiculous statement. “You are taking Clan loyalty way past reasonable. You’re willing to let I don’t know how many other people die to try and save one insane broad?”
Quinitas walked up and glared down at me. “That ‘insane broad’ is my sister.”
“Yeah. So? She’s trying to destroy the world.”
“My twin sister.”
“That’s an interesting piece of trivia, but—” I stopped as I heard a sharp intake of breath from Liz. I turned to her. Her hand pressed against her mouth. She looked as if she just learned her pet ferret had gone missing. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering me, she addressed Quinitas. “So the stories are true?”
Quinitas nodded.
“What stories?” I asked.
“Elvish twins,” Liz said, “aren’t only connected at birth. They’re also connected at death.”
“Yes,” I said, looking at Quinitas. “I’m sure you’ll be devastated, but—”
Quinitas interrupted. “You don’t understand. We are literally connected. If my sister dies, I die.”
16
As I stared at the elf in stunned silence, he continued. “That’s why I don’t want her to die unless it’s necessary. I’m willing to sacrifice myself if it means stopping the summoning, but if I can stop it and stay alive too, that is a preferable outcome.”
“Why have I never heard about this?” I asked.
Quinitas started walking again. We followed. “We’ve done everything to keep it nothing but a rumor, something as close to myth as possible.”
That made sense. It was a weakness; a vulnerability. It would make twins, especially noble twins, worth twice the effort to kidnap. You could demand ransom for two for the trouble of stealing one. It also made Quinitas’ hesitation much more acceptable. I could understand why someone wouldn’t want to kill their relative. Still, there comes the point where you know a person is lost. Quinitas had gone ten steps beyond that point. Now I knew why.
“Okay,” I said. “We try to take her alive, but if it comes down to it…”
“I know,” Quinitas said. “What I told you on the Ziploon was the truth. I may well need you to kill her. Because if I had to do it, I don’t know if I could.”
At least he was honest about it. I found myself disturbingly sympathetic to his predicament. After all, I wasn’t sure I could commit suicide, even to save the world.
He fixed us with his pale elven eyes. “I’m trusting you to keep this little secret to yourself.”
Liz nodded. “I’ve known for ten years, and I’ve never told a soul.”
“I can vouch for that,” I said. “We’ve been sopping drunk together a number of times. I know secrets she would kill me for even whispering. She never told me that one.”
“Thanks for the commendation,” she said dryly.
“That should cover me too,” I said. “If I haven’t told her secrets, I’m not going to tell yours.”
Quinitas arched his eyebrow. “But you like her.”
“It’s true elves aren’t my favorite,” I admitted, “but I don’t dislike them enough to see families I don’t even know devastated. And I like kidnappers and murderers even less than elves.” Even though hunting them down had kept me fed through the years.
He studied me a moment, perhaps gauging my sincerity. I passed, because he nodded. Then he turned to Klaus, and his expression turned cold. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’ve learned a secret most Clans would have you killed for knowing. I’m not interested in doing that, so I have to believe you aren’t going to say anything.”
“You know what I’m trying to accomplish,” Klaus said. “Even if I promised I would stay quiet, how could you trust me?”
“A fair point,” Quinitas said. He tapped his finger against his chin. Stared at Klaus. “What if I helped you?”
“What?” Klaus and I said at the same time.
“If we survive this suicide mission, I’ll help you take your grievances to Gosley.”
Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Why would you do that?”
“Because unlike some people,” his eyes cut over to me, “I don’t have a problem with goblinoids. Did you ever meet my bodyguards?”
“Then you may be unique among your people,” Klaus said.
“I’m not,” Quinitas said. “But Gosley—”
“Great Wizard Gosley,” I said.
Quinitas made an un-elflike pffttt sound. “Typical human arrogance.”
“Says the elf,” I said.
“I think we’re getting off track,” Liz said. She glared at me. “You were making a deal,” she reminded Quinitas.
Quinitas nodded. “There are others who feel the same way,” he told Klaus. “In fact, I believe my sister’s employment of one of your people is what brought you into our little group in the first place.”
“Employment?” Klaus said. He made a rattling snort and flashed his fangs. “More like indentured servitude.”
“Be that as it may, your options are trust me or don’t. If you don’t, then I guess we settle it now. After the dust clears, we have one less warrior to help us, and you never see your dream come true.”
I noticed how Quinitas considered it a foregone conclusion he would win any fight. I’m confident he was right.
Klaus must have realized it, too. His one ear that still worked lowered flat against his head. “I don’t trust either of you,” he said as his black eyes darted between Quinitas and me. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much choice. I’ll help you and pray to Kashalak that you are better than most of your kind.”
“And you swear to keep what you’ve learned secret?”
“As long as you make an effort to help me, I do. No matter how it turns out.”
“Deal,” Quinitas said. He offered his hand. After a brief hesitation, Klaus extended his hand. They shook.
“Score one for tolerance and happy times,” I growled. “Now, can we try and save the city?”
Quinitas nodded. “Let’s get outfitted.”
We walked through another door into a hallway that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the manor. Wooden walls, unpainted and unadorned. It was like this part had never been finished. We went to the end, and Quinitas opened another door. This room was adorned, but not with peaceful flowers and chirping birds. The smell of cleaning oil and metal tickled my nose. Racks of armor and weapons filled the chamber.
“Take what you want,” Quinitas said.
Liz and I stepped into the room. Thin elvish swords made up the bulk of the weapons. They were about as useful as a toothpick to me. I spotted a handful of axes on a spindle near the center. Bows lined the whole of one wall.
I gave one of the axes a few test swings. Too light by
half, designed in the fancy, flighty elf style. It worked better than bare hands, though. And the blade drew blood with the barest touch to my arm.
“No wands?” I asked Quinitas. He shook his head with a frown. Masters of bows, elves found wands beneath them. They thought those who used such items were unskilled cowards. I was neither. And dead was dead. How I accomplished the task didn’t matter to me. I found a wand on my hip comforting. Fool’s errand I knew it to be, I wanted to find whoever had taken my Firestarter, shove it up their ass, and press the button.
I contented myself with a dagger and sheath covered in gilt leaves and an emerald set into the hilt. If my Clan hadn’t already disowned me, seeing me carrying these frilly weapons would have sealed the deal.
Liz had better luck. She found a bow that looked much like the one she had lost, minus the subtle glow of magic. She grinned as she grabbed two quivers of arrows.
“I hope you don’t need that many,” I said.
“So do I,” she said. “Better prepared than empty.”
A wise adage. The flimsy axe and petite dagger weren’t my idea of well equipped. I shrugged. It was the best I was going to get.
Klaus looked as disgusted with the weapons as I was. Then he grabbed two scimitars and swung them in crossing arcs. He cut back with them and held them out in a T, the blades extensions of his arms. He grinned, tusks gleaming. His black eyes shone. “These are wonders of craftsmanship.”
I would definitely keep him in front of me at all times.
Quinitas had chosen a slim rapier and a poniard I might use to scratch my back. He regarded the rest of us. “Ready?”
“No, but that’s never stopped me before,” I told him.
“So I’d noticed,” he said.
We left the armory and returned to the manor proper. The opulence had already begun to grow stale. The fresh smell of the plants still annoyed me. We traced our way back and ended up in the wine cellar again. As we hit the bottom of the stairs, my desire overruled my taste. “Can I have one of these?”
