The Witch's City

by M. Gregg Roe

  He had barely slept since Natalia’s death, and he couldn’t sleep aboard ship either. Visions of her dismembered body still haunted him. He spent his time formulating plans and trying hard not to think of how angry Celebern would be with him when he returned. He had risen rapidly within Novox to a position of some importance, but now it was all at risk.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Hagen stood at attention in a corner of the room where the Witch’s City Council met. It was a small room, and completely interior. Glow-cubes sitting on wooden shelves high in each corner provided illumination. He was standing because the stone table in the center of the room only had four chairs. Three chairs were already occupied. Mardan sat opposite the empty chair with Celebern to his left and Daragrim to his right. Everyone had their usual place, and anyone else invited to attend had to stand. That was just the way it was.

  For the second straight morning, Hagen had been summoned to attend. That wasn’t really a surprise; Ermizad wasn’t exactly known for her patience. The investigation was still ongoing, but he did have a few things to report.

  The door opposite him, on the wall behind the empty chair, suddenly opened inward and Ermizad strode in clad in black with looping silver accents. As always, her dress had a low-cut front that displayed ample cleavage. He knew that she dressed that way because it tended to distract males. For Ermizad, her appearance was simply another way to gain an advantage.

  The empty chair moved smoothly away from the table even as the door she had entered through closed. It was a casual demonstration of power. By simply willing it, Ermizad could cause objects to move. And the less something weighed, the faster she could propel it. In her hands, a simple copper piece could be deadlier than a crossbow bolt.

  Ermizad sat down and surveyed the other four with an expression that was both serious and arrogant. “Let us begin,” she said in a commanding voice. “Captain Hagen, what is the mood of the city following the two events?”

  “Tense,” he replied. “Rumors of all sorts are already spreading.”

  “What types of rumors? Are any correct?”

  “None are completely correct. One rumor is that Buris had an altercation with an alchemist, which gets the nature of the fire correct. Another—my personal favorite—is that Buris was caught cheating on his taxes, which is true. The strange fires were the High Witch’s retribution for his fraud.”

  Ermizad laughed delightedly. “I wish to encourage that one. The more powerful the people think I am, the better.”

  Hagen nodded before continuing. “Another rumor is that the fires were a punishment from the gods, with Buris being accused of a number of different sins. No one seems to have made a connection to the Zardis Thieves’ Guild, and everyone is assuming that Buris is dead. But there is still a great deal of uncertainty and fear.”

  “Was anything found at the sites?” asked Daragrim, the near century-old elf wizard.

  That was the interesting part. “Yes. There were steel safes with thick walls beneath both buildings, but even those aren’t completely intact. There was nothing but ash inside them, but it was normal ash.”

  “As opposed to alchemic ash?” asked Celebern.

  “Yes, which means that the contents were burned earlier. Probably by Buris just before he fled.”

  “What do our alchemists say?” asked Ermizad.

  “We’ve provided them all with samples of the ash to analyze. One thought he had read about something similar, but he hasn’t been able to find the reference yet. He is probably in the castle library right now. We also found electrum shards at each site. The alchemists think that they were from jars used to contain the substance that exploded and then started the fires.”

  “Electrum is mostly gold,” mused Celebern with an interested look. “How much was found?”

  Hagen had already investigated that. “We estimate it would have required the equivalent of forty standard gold coins and ten silver coins to make what we have found so far, and we are still searching.”

  He could see how surprised they were as Mardan commented, “They would certainly have employed something less expensive were it possible. Electrum may be the only material that can safely contain the substance. That will limit their ability to deploy it as a weapon.”

  “I agree,” said Ermizad, now smiling thinly. “They would probably like to have all of that electrum back.”

  “It is secure,” stated Hagen.

  “Excellent.” Ermizad paused a moment to think. “Send a full report when the search is complete. You may go, Captain. Thank you.”

  As Hagen was closing the door behind him, he heard Ermizad say, “And now we will discuss how it was that the Zardis Thieves’ Guild had an agent here for over ten years, as well as an agent in Novox.”

  Hagen smiled as he walked toward the castle’s main entrance. It was going to be another bad day for Celebern.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Marryn’s heart was pounding. She could hardly breathe as she hurried past the two guards in the entryway of the Witch’s Castle. She glanced back and saw the young man staring at her from about ten yards away. Her stomach clenched with fear as she ran to the right. She ran all the way to her family’s quarters, attracting numerous puzzled and annoyed looks, and nearly knocking over a maid carrying a stack of towels. She pushed open the door, slammed it shut behind her, and then locked it. Leaning against the door, she felt drained as she gasped for breath.

  Her mother ran into the sitting area with a look of concern. “What’s wrong, Marryn?”

  “Man! Market! Following me!”

  Marryn was starting to feel faint, and she was grateful when her mother took her right arm and led her over to a chair. Sitting down made her feel better, and she concentrated on slowing her breathing as she leaned forward.

  “Calm down, Marryn,” said Medea in a soothing voice. “Then tell me exactly what happened. I would also like to know why you were at the market alone.”

  After about a minute, Marryn raised her head and leaned back. She was feeling much better. “It was just the market,” she said defensively. “It’s a nice day and it’s right outside the castle. There were guards nearby. I thought I’d be safe.”

  Marryn didn’t like the way her mother was frowning now. “You were told not to leave the castle alone. What did he look like?”

  She thought about it before replying. “Shorter than average. A little overweight. Late teens. Short brown hair. He was wearing brown pants and a light blue shirt.”

  “Green eyes?” asked Medea. “Large ears?”

  “Yes! That’s him. Who is it?”

  Medea sighed and shook her head. “He probably was following you, but not for the reason you are thinking.”

  “Then why was he stalking me?” demanded Marryn.

  “Because he thinks you’re pretty. He likes you. His name is Oskar. His father is a carpenter. He and his mother sell at the market two or three times each month. Marryn, Oskar is your admirer, not your stalker.”

  Marryn thought about it. He had looked familiar, but she rarely visited the area of the market where they sold wooden items. “Is his family wealthy?” she asked.

  Medea narrowed her eyes. “What difference does that make?” she asked scornfully. “Go and get cleaned up. Then you are going to help me fix lunch. And you are not to set foot outside this castle without an escort! Do you understand?”

  Marryn lowered her head. “Yes, Mother.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Audrey shivered as she sat in front of the fire. The core of her existence was under attack, and she didn’t know what to do.

  The resentment had been palpable. The other students acted friendly, but that was just an act. Audrey was younger than them. She had been promoted faster. Grasapa was giving her special training. To them, she was an unwelcome upstart. It had been a terrible experience, and the thought of repeating it in two days filled her with dread.

  She already had enough to worry about. Nearly every night, Audrey dreamed abou
t Violet. Sometimes it was pleasant—her friend proudly displaying her baby surrounded by her happy family. But last night’s dream had been full of blood and sorrow as both Violet and her baby perished. The images still haunted her.

  And then there was Saxloc. He had been acting odd lately. At first, she assumed it was because of the business with Buris, but now she wasn’t so sure. Something was bothering him, eating away at him, but he wouldn’t admit it.

  Almera denied it, but her concern was obvious: Draymund still hadn’t returned. She was tense and irritable. Even more disturbing, she had begun to make mistakes when cooking, burning things and either forgetting the seasoning or using the wrong ones. Yesterday, Audrey had noticed some of the plants in the greenhouse wilting—yet another ominous sign. She had watered them but decided not to mention it.

  Rosalind, the one person that Audrey thought should be nervous, seemed almost carefree. She had gotten a reply from her brother saying that everything was fine. She accepted that what had occurred was really a matter between Novox and the Zardis Thieves’ Guild. Buris had taken advantage of her but seemed unlikely to come after her or her family. She loved living in the mansion and felt safe there. And yesterday, Daragrim had come over and spent the entire afternoon with her to evaluate her magical skills and decide on how best to instruct her. Rosalind was deliriously happy about the prospect of learning to cast spells.

  A loud crack from the fire startled her. Audrey never had gotten around to fixing dinner, so she forced herself to get up. Benson ran in instantly when she opened the back door. After the two of them dined, he accompanied her back to the sitting area and curled up on his bed there. Audrey added another log to the fire before sitting back down on the rug. The flames danced as she sipped her rice wine, but they held no answers to her problems.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Why is he ringing the bell?”

  Almera was talking to herself as she stood in the entryway waiting to greet her husband. She had been about to go to bed when the mansion alerted her that Draymund was at the gate. Overjoyed that he had finally returned, she quickly donned her robe and rushed downstairs.

  She opened the right-hand door and was surprised to see Draymund standing over three yards away. She noticed a large bundle to his left that presumably contained his armor and shield. That was odd because he usually wore his armor when he traveled. She took a step forward and he promptly took a step back and held up his hands.

  It was hard to see him clearly by only the light of the half moon, so she held her right hand out and said, “Illumination!” causing a fist-sized ball of white light to appear just above her palm. In obedience to her will, it rose and moved forward. She suddenly saw the reason that Draymund was keeping his distance. His face and hands were covered with ugly red patches, irregularly shaped and varying in size.

  “What happened to you?” Almera cried as she took a step backward. “Did a dragon cause that?”

  He lowered his arms before answering. “No, it’s some kind of fungus. And I caught it from some fungus. We encountered creatures that looked like two-yard tall mushrooms, with faces, arms, and legs. And spears. They were not friendly.” He grinned and added, “But they did slice up nearly as easily as regular mushrooms. I thought about bringing some back for you to use in your cooking.”

  Almera shook her head. “We need to get you to a temple to have that cured.”

  “I stopped at the Temple of Dukane on the way here. An acolyte there cured me, but she said that my skin is going to take a few days to heal.”

  “I see. Does it itch?”

  “Not as bad as before, but yes. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  Almera gave him a sympathetic look as she said, “Let’s get you a bath. That may help. And if you can’t sleep, I can always use magic to put you to sleep.”

  Draymund smiled at her. “As considerate as ever. It’s good to be home.”

  She stepped back and watched as he picked up the bundle, carried it inside, and then set it down off to the side. He gestured at it. “That all needs to be thoroughly cleaned. As do these clothes.”

  Almera had already decided that Draymund would be staying elsewhere. “You will be sleeping in the first guest suite,” she told him as she led him through the parlor with her spell lighting the way.

  Once in the suite, she started the bath and then went to fetch a powder that she hoped would soothe her husband’s itching. He was naked when she returned, but she found it difficult to look at him. His entire body was afflicted with the red patches.

  As she prepared the bath, she told him about what had been happening recently. At different points during her story, he looked surprised, angry, or exasperated.

  “So now Rosalind is living here, Saxloc is depressed because you don’t want him to become a dragon-slayer, and my favorite shop in all of the Witch’s City has been destroyed. And it’s all due to your meddling in our son’s life.”

  Almera didn’t care for her husband’s tone. “You don’t want him to become a dragon-slayer either,” she retorted. “Rosalind needed help and I am providing it. What happened to the shop was unfortunate, but at least Buris is no longer operating as a Guild agent here.”

  Draymund sighed. “Yes, I definitely need to speak with Celebern about that, but it will have to wait until I recover. How did Audrey react to the cottage?”

  “She loves it, but she’s unhappy with her new Shorinken class. Very unhappy.”

  “I’ll speak with her tomorrow. And we need to talk about Saxloc.”

  “We will, but that can also wait until tomorrow.” Almera gestured to indicate the suite. “This is your home until I say you can return upstairs.”

  Draymund lowered his head. “Yes, dear.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Saxloc sat on the floor, sweating and gasping for breath.

  He had been pleased when his father told him that he was going to resume training him, but his father had been merciless, seemingly more interested in thoroughly defeating him than in giving instruction. And he didn’t even look tired as he went over and put their practice swords back into the rack on the wall. He returned with a towel that Saxloc promptly used to wipe off his face and neck.

  His father still hadn’t fully recovered, but his skin now merely showed light pink areas instead of angry red splotches. And the itching was apparently finally under control. Saxloc hoped that would improve his father’s mood.

  “Son, you might want to consider concentrating more on your magical studies.”

  “Mother said she didn’t want me to succeed you. Do you also feel that way?”

  “I’m afraid that I do,” replied his father seriously. “Your sword skills are coming along nicely, and your magic skills are quite impressive for someone your age. But you lack both stamina and creativity when it comes to combat. I’m not certain if you will be able to become a competent dragon-slayer, but it’s not entirely up to me.”

  Saxloc found his father’s words depressing but also confusing. “Mother has a say as well?” he asked.

  Draymund laughed. “No. She gets no say whatsoever. I am referring to the DragonSword and DragonShield. I am the only one who can use them, and I had to make a pact with what I suspect is the god of the dragons in order to be permitted to employ them.”

  That did sound familiar to Saxloc. “Was that when you agreed to not hunt dragons for sport?”

  “Yes. I am only permitted to slay dragons that have harmed innocents or which are a clear threat to do so. You will be required to make the same pact if you wish to succeed me.”

  “And I might not be accepted?”

  “Yes,” Draymund replied, looking somewhat sad. “I can’t guarantee it. To be honest, I’m not even certain how to go about transferring the items. According to my research, the items are sometimes transferred to someone else before their owner dies, but sometimes not.

  “Saxloc, this isn’t going to be an issue until I decide that I’m ready to retire. That won’t be for y
ears. In the meantime, you might discover something unexpected that holds a greater attraction. Or I might be eaten by a dragon and save you the trouble of deciding.”

  Saxloc smiled at his father’s attempt at humor. “All right, I won’t worry about it for now. I have to admit, I never thought that Siljan would agree to train to be a cleric. That was a surprise.”

  Draymund nodded. “And we weren’t expecting the peasant girl you brought home to become a specialist in unarmed combat.”

  That actually made Saxloc feel sad. He and Audrey had barely been speaking, let alone going on dates or being intimate. She kept insisting that Rosalind should be his girlfriend now. Meanwhile, she worried about Violet and complained about her new Shorinken classes. She always seemed to be in a bad mood.

  “All right. I won’t worry about it for now.” But that was a lie. He had never considered any possibility other than becoming a dragon-slayer like his father.

  “Saxloc, I think it’s time you had a new magic instructor. How would you like to begin studying with your grandfather?”

  “That would be fine. I’d like that.” His grandfather knew an amazing variety of spells.

  “Good. I’ll start making arrangements. The instruction will be at the Witch’s Castle where Daragrim lives. There are some unused areas there where you can practice casting.”

  “That’s true. I’ll also be able to practice my combat skills with Gabriel while I’m there.”

  His father nodded, looking satisfied. “Good. I’ll let you know what the schedule will be. You can go get cleaned up.”

  “Yes, Father.”