by Deck Davis
“That’s called being a good businessman and knowing your market,” said Witas.
“You’re blind.”
“And you’re green, so we’re a great fucking pair,” said Witas. The he punched the stone. “Damn it. Fine – go and look.”
Jakub pointed at the window above. “Keep an eye out for Archibald. Suspicious or not, I don’t want him catching me creeping around his yard.”
“He keeps a blaster staff under his counter,” said Witas. “I’ve seen him practicing with it; he fills the bottom with mana, and it shoots little zaps of lightning.”
“If he sees us, you’ll have to talk him round.”
“Assuming the Archibald I thought I knew is really him. If he’s got anything to do with all of this…I don’t he’ll be happy to just have a blinds-closed conversation.”
“Then I better be quick.”
CHAPTER 57
The discoloured stone could have just been wet. It could have had an innocent explanation for looking different to everything else in the yard.
When Jakub got close, he smelled mana. Faint, but there. He felt around its edges, he pressed it, but nothing happened.
“It’s not a pressure plate,” he said. “Probably mana sealed; you’ll need a password to open it.”
“Or it opens when it hears certain people’s voice. If it’s actually a secret entrance to somewhere, that is.”
“Come and smell it for yourself,” said Jakub.
“I’m not calling your nose a liar. If it worked like the traps they lay in dungeons, anyone could stumble over it. There’s no way of getting this open – no mechanism, no latch.”
“There might be something. If you were forming a party to go dungeon raiding, what type of people would you need? You know, in a typical goblin-and-treasure dungeon?”
“A healer. A big guy who can take a few hits. A couple of mud-brained barbarians.”
“And for picking out traps? Finding secret doors? Busting chest locks?”
“I suppose we’d ask a rogue along, yeah. You know any?”
Jakub took the rogue blood draught from his bag. When he’d looted it after his gwarflock fight near the academy, he expected it to be useful for opening a locked door or sneaking by someone, not opening the door to a cellar that possibly led to a slaughterhouse.
The idea made his head hurt again; it brought back the dull wash of pain from his blight.
He uncorked the vial of blood draught. Although the liquid was red, it smelled of leather and copper and looked thin, as though it had been diluted.
He drank it back and felt it hit his stomach. This was his first blood draught, and the feeling was strange; it took a few seconds before his fingers felt sprightlier, his body lighter. He could hear sounds in the distance clearer now; the cheers and yells of children from the nearby school playground, the rumble of a cart’s wheels over the road.
“What was the vial?” asked Witas.
“A rogue’s blood draught.”
“Those things are a con. They take a pint of blood, add a little mana, and then dilute it with twenty times more water, so much that you might as well go drink a thief’s piss; you’d have just as much time inheriting his powers.”
“I don’t know; I feel different. This looks different, too; it’s definitely a hatch. I can see its outlines now, but the whole mechanism is hidden under it, under the stone.”
“No levers or locks?”
“Nothing.”
“Then it works on a password or voice. At least we know that. Come on; It shouldn’t take us long to get it open.”
“Archibald?”
“Who else?” said Witas. “It’s time for a blinds-closed conversation.”
CHAPTER 58
Witas raised his hand to bang on the back door, when Jakub rushed up and caught him.
“I used the draught. I can pick our way in.”
“And Archie’s not going to realise anything’s wrong when we sneak into his shop, is he?”
“Do we care if he knows? I want him to open the hatch, I couldn’t care less if he’s singing and dancing about it,” said Jakub.
“You don’t know Archie. Do this wrong, and he’ll clam up.”
“I can open clams.”
“Years ago, before Archie bought this dump, he was an artificer in the Queen’s army. You know how artificers serve in the force?”
“Adding effects to weapons, armor, that kind of thing.”
“Right. They usually don’t see much combat itself, but a unit Archie was attached to were sent to the eastern Valley of Horns. You know it?”
“It was a massacre there, wasn’t it?”
“An ambush. Most of Archie’s unit were slaughtered, and they were the lucky ones. The tribes settled there were working for the Baelin, and they sorted through the unit and chose the guys who they thought might know things. Anyone with a ranking pin on their chest, that kind of thing. They saw that Archie was an artificer, and they took him in for some gentle persuasion.”
“Artificery isn’t exactly a secret,” said Jakub. “Walk down Royal Mile and you’ll see a dozen of their shops.”
“You think that the artificery they use in these little tourist shops is the same as they use in the army? Archie didn’t always screw around artificing wind-up ducks for spoiled brats. Point is, the tribe kept him for two months, and they did all kinds of weird stuff to him, but he never broke.”
“Do you know how to deal with him?”
“Whatever Archie’s got himself into, there will be a reason. We can’t trick him, and we can’t force it out of him. We just need to talk in a way Archie will listen.”
CHAPTER 59
It took three knocks on the door for Archibald to open it. When the old artificer stood in the doorway, his back slightly bent, his fingertips stained black, Jakub saw him differently now.
He wasn’t just an eccentric guy who owned a weird shop. There was more to him; a soldier who survived interrogation. A guy who was possibly into much worse things.
“I see you’ve climbed over my wall,” he said, staring at Witas and Jakub in turn, annoyance in his eyes.
“Front doors get a little boring.”
“And dangerous,” said Archibald, “when half the guard force is looking for you.”
“Have people been telling tales about me?” asked Witas.
Archibald waved them through the back corridor of his shop. “This way. Yes, Witty. You’d think it wasn’t the Queen’s uncles parade but yours, by the attention the guardship are giving you.”
One word stuck out to Jakub – Witty. When Witas told him about Ria, he’d mentioned that she called him that.
Were he and Archibald better friends than Witas had let on?
He reminded himself that he’d only known the guy for a few days. Circumstance had forced him to put a hell of a lot of trust in him, and he’d have to carry on trusting him for the time being, too.
After all, he had blight, the academy was no longer his friend, Kortho was gone, and the Dispolis guardship were looking for him.
Archibald led them to his living quarters. Unlike his shop, this room was a mess, full of unwashed plates, clothes strewn all around, repair parts like gears and cogs everywhere. On the kitchen counter, beside the sink, four dead birds lay on a plate, presumably waiting to be plucked and then cooked.
“So, they came and asked you questions about me, right?” said Witas.
“I don’t know why,” said Archibald, “but whenever the guardship want to know about one unscrupulous character or another, they always come to my shop and nobody else’s.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Did they ask about a pickpocket?” said Jakub.
Archibald’s brow furrowed. “Why would they ask that?”
“They think we killed one. That’s why they’re looking for us.”
Archibald shook his head. “No; that’s not it at all. They told me that the both of you slaughtered ten guards in the Rats’ Palac
e.”
CHAPTER 60
Witas leapt from his seat and walked around the room, messing with his beard as he circled.
“You’ll wear out my floor,” said Archibald.
“Slaughtered? The guards died down there?”
“The ones who found them had never seen so much blood,” said Archibald.
Jakub faced the artificer. “The guardship came to ask you about us, and they told you that we’d slaughtered ten armed guards. And you just invited us into your house without a care.”
Witas stopped pacing now.
Jakub felt himself tense up; something was wrong.
“He’s right,” said Witas. “You don’t seem worried.”
Jakub drew his sword from his sheath and held it so the tip pressed against Archibald’s neck. “Whatever you’re so smug about, don’t try it.”
“I told you, we can’t deal with him like this,” said Witas.
Archibald glanced at Jakub, then Witas, and a look of indignation crossed his face. “Deal with me? I bring you into my home - when you are fugitives, no less - and you accuse me of, what? Not being scared of you? I’m sorry if I don’t believe the rumors about Witas. I don’t think he is capable of murder, and if he was, I don’t think he could kill ten guardsmen. And you certainly wouldn’t even the numbers.”
“You didn’t believe them?” asked Witas.
“We’ve known each other a long time. While we were never best friends, there was at least professional respect.”
Witas nodded at Jakub. “Relax.”
Jakub guessed it made sense; the guardship told Archibald that he and Witas were murderers, and he simply didn’t believe them. That was why he was so relaxed.
He put his sword back in his sheath.
As soon as he did, Archibald reached under the table. There was the sound of tape ripping, and he raised a blaster staff. It wooden with a blue gem on the end, and the shaft had been sewn in half to make it more portable.
As Archibald pointed at him, Jakub dove to the side, hitting the floor just before a bolt of energy smashed into Archibald’s wall, sending a stream of sparks over the brickwork.
A chair clattered to the ground as Archibald stood up. He pointed his staff again, this time sending a fizz of energy at Witas.
It hit the cleric on his arm, spinning him around and then backward, into the counter. Pots and pans fell off, and ceramic mugs smashed on the floor.
With Witas hurt, Jakub saw Archibald turn to aim at him now.
He’d catch him dead; There was nowhere to hide, so he needed to do something.
He glanced at the dead birds on the counter. He spoke the spellword of Reanimate and sent a gush of essence to them.
One stirred, then another, then three and four. Their wings fluttered, and their claws moved back and forth as life breathed into them.
*Necromancy EXP Gained!*
EXP [IIII ]
Alive and standing upright on the kitchen counter, the birds waited for their commands.
Attack, he told them with just a thought.
Archibald shot one of them out the air, the energy from his staff charring the bird instantly. It smashed into his window and broke straight through and landed in the yard outside.
While the three birds pecked at Archibald’s face, Jakub gave another command. He spoke it this time, because he wanted Archibald to hear.
“Go for his eyes,” he said.
There were two things the artificer prized above all others, he guessed. He couldn’t do his intricate work without his hand dexterity, or his eyesight.
As the birds went for his eyes, Archibald raised his hands to defend himself. He dropped the staff, which Jakub was quick to pick up.
“You okay?” he said, looking at Witas.
Witas nodded, though the sleeve of his left bicep had burned away, and the bolt had flashed across his skin, turning it a mean shade of red.
Jakub tossed the blaster to him, and held his own sword in his hand.
Leave him, he commanded his birds.
Then he and Witas stood there, blaster staff and sword pointed at Archibald, the three re-animated birds hovering inches away and ready to peck at him.
“It’s time we talked properly,” said Jakub.
CHAPTER 61
“He won’t talk; I told you that,” said Witas.
“Listen to your friend,” said Archibald.
For someone with a blaster staff and a sword pointed at him and reanimated birds flutters in eyeshot, he looked cool. Jakub could see now how the man had withstood interrogation all those years ago.
He had an idea. In the short time he’d known Archibald, he figured he knew enough about the man.
Everyone had something, that one little thing dear to them. Archibald didn’t have a wife, there were no children, or at least ones that Jakub knew about, but he had something.
“Keep him here. Don’t let him move.”
Archibald held his hands up, palms out. “I assure you, I won’t be going anywhere.”
“What are you doing?” said Witas.
“Just wait here.”
Jakub left Archibald’s quarters and crossed through the hallway and went through to the shop.
His temples pounded now, and his stomach felt like it was filled with sludge. Every step was hard; it must have been the blight working through him.
He checked his soul necklace; just like Mancerno had told him, reanimating the birds hadn’t used much essence.
He cast Health Harvest again and he let the healing mist wash over him. It toned down the throbbing of his skull, but not as much as it had the last time.
Damn it; the stronger the blight got in him, the less his spells worked. He needed a mender. He needed to sleep for a year, to just crawl into hibernation and ride this thing out.
If only I’d gone to the Racken Hills straight after the academy. I could have seen Kortho before he passed. I could have had meals on their veranda, slept in their plush guestroom. I would have avoided all this shit.
He took his bracelet of rest from his inventory bag and clasped it around his wrist. Its magic fought against his fatigue and then washed most of it away.
He felt alert now; but with that came the knowledge that the longer he wore the bracelet, the more of a tiredness debt he built, and he’d pay for it sooner or later.
First, he had to make sure there was a later.
He stood behind Archibald’s shop counter, on the side where Archibald would have spent his days working on his repairs for his rich clients and grumbling at the ones who walked in through his shop door.
This was the key to Archibald, he’d realized. The man took such pride in his work, in never disappointing his clients.
Everyone had something important to them, and this was it.
Behind the counter, on a shelf, were all the artificery items that Archibald was working on. There was the wind-up duck, some kind of artificed clock, and a ring with a mana-doused gemstone in it. He also found Archibald’s’ ledger, where he’d written which item he was repairing for which client.
He gathered them all and then went back into the living quarters, where Witas and Archibald were locked in a staring contest.
He arranged the items on the table. He put them in a row, and he pointed his sword at the first; the wind-up duck.
He opened the ledger and read.
“Wind-up duck. Must be artificed to act real. Client; Lady Kossen.”
Archibald eyed him suspiciously. It was the first break from calm that Jakub had seen from him.
“Where are you going with this?”
“You said your reputation depends on fixing things on time. Keeping your promises. It’s important to you, isn’t it, this little shop? I understand why; these might just be trinkets, but you’ve spent years behind that counter. Witas used to come here when he was younger, and so did I. You were always here, always working. A man doesn’t spend years on his work if he doesn’t need it or love it. I suspect for you,
it’s more of the later. You love this place.”
“You’re threatening me with a wind-up duck? First your birds, now this? What are you, a necromancer, or some kind of poultry tyrant?”
“Yeah, Jakub, I don’t really see-” began Witas.
“It’s not a threat,” said Jakub.
He smashed his sword hilt onto the wind-up duck. It cracked. Bolts sprang out, pins scattered, and wood broke. A smell of mana burst into the air as the duck’s artificery leaked from it.
Archibald flinched. He screwed his face up, and Jakub saw that his fists were tense.
Years of interrogation, and he didn’t break. Smash a duck, and he gets angsty.
He was glad; he knew he was on the right track now.
These might have been artificed junk to some, but it was Archibald’s work, his passion. Besides that, the man was old. He might have been tough to crack when he was in the army, but age had a way of blunting a man.
Archibald had no family, no children. As stupid as it sounded, this shop – and the things in it – was his legacy.
“That’s one customer you’ll never get back. What’s Lady Kossen going to say?”
“This is ridiculous,” said Archibald. Yet, there was a tremor in his voice.
Jakub ran his finger down the ledger. “Let’s see. The clock is for a guy called Thomas De Crompton. The ring belongs to Sir Feyrullion, and he’s expecting to pick it up on Tuesday. So many items you’re working on, so many clients. Some of them, their names are listed here again and again. That’s a lot of customers to lose. When they’re gone, what do you have? A shabby little shop, no customers, nobody needing your work.”
“Jakub, we’re talking about a guy who spent years getting bamboo pressed under his nails. He’s not gonna talk just because-”
“What do you want?” said Archibald, his voice a growl, unable to take his eyes off the smashed duck.
It had worked. Jakub could hardly believe it himself, but he’d been right.
“You have a secret hatch outside. We want to get into it.”
