by Logan Jacobs
“Actually, sir, I was hoping to speak to you about something to do with the heist.” Okay, that was a lie. At no point in my time here had I ever hoped to speak to Eamon Maderel, but I did have something to ask him.
“Oh? What is it?” the mage asked.
“We found out that the person behind it all, the one who gathered the bandits and created the plans, is a mage. No one we spoke to could tell us what he looked like, and he only ever went by an alias, Cygne, but I thought you might know something about him.” Who else would be keeping better track of the rogue mages in the region, after all?
“Cygne?” Maderel repeated. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve never heard of anyone, a mage or otherwise, by that name.”
Damn. I supposed that it didn’t really matter who Cygne was, all that mattered was stopping him, but it was frustrating nonetheless to reach a dead end.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Maderel asked.
I considered asking him if he could send some of the Academy’s mages to provide the back up we weren’t able to get from the city guard, but of course, that would be a foolish idea. I might as well confess to being a manipulator right now. No, bringing along Academy mages would be more risky than it was worth, it was better that we just handled this ourselves.
“No, sir, thank you,” I answered, and Maderel inclined his head in a polite nod.
“I won’t keep you, then,” he said. “I’m sure you all have plenty of work left to attend to.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, and I nodded back before I started for the next flight of stairs down with the others behind me. I didn’t look back, but I thought I could feel Maderel’s eyes still trained on me.
It wasn’t until we reached the lobby again that the knot in my gut began to uncoil, and I resolved to attract less attention from the High Mage in the future.
We left the University Tower and went directly to Madame Delafose’s studio, which was located in the wealthier section of the market district. Here, in contrast to the relatively haphazard collection of stalls and rolling carts and shopfronts all crushed together in the part of the market that I was used to visiting, there were no street vendors, no performers, and certainly no squawking animals. All of the buildings were constructed of the same white stone and had the same moldings around the windows and the same iron balconies.
If we’d stood out in the University Tower, that was nothing compared to the streets here. Yvaine was the only one who looked like she belonged, because, well, she did. At least the marchioness was polite and friendly, but there was no end to the barely disguised looks of contempt that we received from Ovrista’s blue bloods as we made our way to Delafose’s studio. I didn’t really care what any of them thought of me, and I knew most of my guild would feel the same way. Maruk was the one who would take it hard to have the city’s upper crust show such obvious disdain for us, but fortunately, he was so caught up in his excitement about our costumes that he didn’t seem to notice the stares that were directed at us.
I wasn’t sure how they were able to tell any of these buildings apart as none of them were distinguished by anything but a number on their doorways, but Maruk and Yvaine led us quickly and unerringly to the correct one, and we took the three flights of stairs up to Delafose’s studio on the top floor.
The ceiling had been converted into one enormous skylight, and several large windows along the studio’s four walls basically ensured that there would never be a need for candles in a place like this, which was probably for the best because the huge room was drowning in fabric. Huge rolls of silks and satins and more were displayed upon special mounts where lengths could be drawn and cut with ease. Several tables were laid out with bunches of fabric and ribbons ready to be sewn, and dozens of mannequins stood nearby, some bare, others already draped in dresses and suit coats of rich jewel tones. As I looked over a set of emerald green dress robes with a subtle brocade pattern, I wondered if any of these were meant for us.
No sooner had we stepped into the studio than we were greeted by a tall, exceptionally thin human woman. Her silver hair was drawn away from her face in a severe bun which accentuated the sharpness of her cheekbones and nose. It was difficult to place her age. I guessed she was near fifty, though I also got the sense that she appeared younger than she actually was. It was something to do with her posture, I figured, how she carried herself with perfect confidence and grace.
Quite unlike the expressive, eye-catching designs on the mannequins, Delafose’s own garments were understated, and she wore a long black dress, similar to the standard robes of the mages at the Academy. The only ornamentation she had was a thin silver chain that hung down to her abdomen, and a silver ring set with a large ruby on one finger.
“Lady Yvaine, Maruk, it’s good to see you again so soon,” Delafose greeted with a smile. It was a genuinely friendly expression that seemed at odds with the severity of the rest of her appearance, but I was glad that she seemed amiable. Her accent was different from the typical Ovristan lilt, with the vowels more drawn out and the consonants crisply enunciated.
“We brought the rest of our companions for the fitting,” Yvaine said with a gesture to the rest of us. “We’re all just thrilled to get to wear your designs.”
Delafose touched her long fingers to her collarbone and pursed her lips in a satisfied smile. “And I am excited to see them on all of you. Come, come, we must get you all dressed, and we will see what adjustments we must make, yes?”
With a wave, the designer led us to the other end of the studio where a maze of privacy screens had been set up. Four young elves, who had to be Delafose’s assistants, were waiting by with wheeled brass racks hung with garments. Delafose turned back to us and steepled her hands as she looked us over, and then to my surprise, she pointed to me.
“You are Gabriel, yes?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question, and she went on before I could confirm my identity. “Come, I have the most splendid set of robes for you.”
I walked forward, a little self-conscious since I had been singled out first, but Delafose smiled broadly as she took my arm and led me to one of the screens, then took a hanger off one of the racks and held it up for me to see.
The garment was sort of a cross between mage robes and a tuxedo. A flowing cape of deep navy blue went over matching slim trousers and a fitted jacket. The material had a quality almost like satin, and when it caught the light, it had a subtle shine that reminded me of the telltale shimmer of enchantments. I wasn’t usually that interested in fashion, but there was no denying the beauty of the costume.
“It looks great,” I said finally when I realized I’d been staring and hadn’t responded to the designer. “Amazing, really.”
“It does, does it not?” Delafose replied. “Now get dressed, I will see to your companions.” She passed me the hanger and adjusted the screen to give me some privacy to change.
I stripped off my travel-worn clothes and set them in a pile before I took down the dress robes from their hanger and put them on. To my surprise, the fit was almost perfect already, as though the garments had been made for me, though of course, we’d only just asked today if we could even borrow them. I clasped the silver chain of the cape around my neck, then slid back the screen and stepped out into the studio again.
The others had all already been taken behind their own screens to change, and I could hear Dehn cursing at one of Delafose’s assistants as he tried to help the halfling get dressed. Delafose was waiting for me, though, and she clapped her hands in delight when she saw me.
“It looks even better on!” she exclaimed. “Of course, it helps when the model is so tall and handsome.” She took me by the arm and dragged me to a mirror that spanned fully from the floor to the ceiling so I could get a look at myself.
I had to admit, I did look good. Really good. The costume wasn’t too flashy, but the rich blue suited me, and I looked fancier than I probably ever had before. I twisted slightly to see how the fab
ric so subtly reflected the light and smiled. It was the perfect costume for a mage.
Delafose came up behind me in the mirror and pinned a few places where the jacket was just slightly too loose, and then she stepped back with a proud smile.
“Excellent, if I do say so myself,” she said.
Then, one by one, the others came out and joined us on the studio floor, and Delafose and her assistants buzzed between us all to measure and pin the costumes into place.
Aerin was in a full-skirted gown of soft yellow, and layers of light tulle around the skirt looked like shafts of sunlight. Delafose had given her a gold headband and matching bracelets to complete the look, and the elven healer looked radiant, like a sun goddess in the flesh.
Lena came next in a flowing dress that appeared to be cobalt at first, but where the fabric caught the light, it had an iridescent quality that made rainbows ripple across the alchemist’s body with every movement that she made. A matching ribbon had been braided into her hair and two more were wrapped around her wrists.
Emeline followed in a fiery orange gown decorated with tiny beads sewn in swirling patterns that sparkled like embers. A bronze tiara that resembled a laurel wreath was set in the panthera mage’s dark curls, and bronze cuffs adorned her wrists and upper arms.
Maruk had a dreamy expression on his face as he admired himself in the mirror and turned this way and that to appreciate every angle of the bold white suit Delafose had put him in, and I was impressed that the designer had already had designs in her collection to account for a range of body types, including seven-foot-tall musclebound orcs.
Yvaine strode out in a silver gown that shimmered as though it had been sewn with starlight, her dark hair caught up in a jeweled net, one lock left free to caress her collarbone. She looked as elegant as ever, perfectly confident in the eye-catching dress.
Lavinia followed, dressed in a black gown with a plunging neckline and a skirt that hugged her curves. As reluctant as the no-nonsense ranger had been about the prospect of getting dressed up, I could tell she was pleased with what Delafose had given her to wear. The ladona woman’s fingers glittered with rings set with rubies that brought out her red eyes, and Delafose even had silver tips to fit over the ends of Lavinia’s horns. She looked no less badass than usual and stunningly beautiful.
Dehn was last, having been forced out of his spiked armor and into an emerald green suit. Delafose’s design was clean-cut and sharp, but unfortunately for the halfling, not sharp in the way he liked. No doubt he would have only been happy in something with hidden knives or a pocket for throwing stars.
We spent a few minutes complementing one another, and Delafose for her designs, while the last pins were put into place, and then we were allowed to change back into our old clothes. I wouldn’t have expected it of myself, but I was a little reluctant to take off the suit, and I looked forward to getting to wear it again for the masquerade.
“I will make all of the necessary alterations, and you may return tomorrow around noon to pick up the garments,” Delafose told us when we’d all filed out onto the studio floor again.
“Thank you,” I told her. “This is a really big help to us, we appreciate it.”
“Think nothing of it,” the designer replied. “I am always happy to help out my friends, and a friend of Lady Yvaine is a friend of mine. Perhaps, though, you all would consider modeling these designs at my exhibit after your mission.”
“Could we?” Maruk gasped. I wasn’t sure if he was asking Delafose or me, but the designer answered.
“Consider it, at least,” she said. “I would love to have a real guild to represent my work, unlike all those other hacks and their little show-ponies.”
“We would love to,” I told her. “Thank you again.”
With that, we left the designer to her work and set off for the black market to have our invitation forged.
Although Dehn had agreed that it was necessary for us to forge an invitation and understood the logic of us needing to visit someone skilled in forgery to make one, he was twitchy and even more grouchy than usual as we made our way down to the black market.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Aerin told him, not for the first time.
“I don’t want to miss anything,” the halfling insisted.
“You can’t arrest anyone while we’re down there, you know,” Lavinia said. “You’ll make us look bad.”
“I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss!” Dehn retorted. “I was down there with you before.”
“Yeah, and you ran off and killed someone,” Aerin reminded him. “You have to be cool this time.”
“Those elves had it coming,” Dehn muttered.
The black market was crowded when we reached it, but Aerin led us deftly through the throng toward a dark alleyway, and from there to a hole in the ground. Well, technically, it was a basement, but it was shabby and dirty enough when we started down the worn stone steps into its depths that it might as well have been just another sewer tunnel. There were a few lights along the bare stone walls, at least, and they flickered ominously as we passed.
“Who did you say this friend of yours was, Aerin?” Maruk asked warily as he scrunched up his enormous shoulders to avoid brushing up against the walls. I couldn’t blame him, they were concerningly damp.
“His name is Emric,” Aerin replied. “He’s a dwarf and the best forger in the city.”
“Is that right,” Dehn grunted.
“And you can’t arrest him later, Dehn,” Aerin said pointedly.
“You’d think that the best forger in the city would be able to afford a better office,” Lavinia remarked.
“Knock that off,” Aerin warned, “I don’t want any of you offending him. He can be kind of sensitive.”
Lavinia made a face as she looked back at Maruk, and the orc grinned in response.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Aerin led us around a corner and through a warped wooden door into a small, cramped office space. For someone with supposedly such a good reputation, Emric sure was a slob. There were papers absolutely everywhere, stacked as high as I was tall in places, scattered on the tables, and overflowing out of old boxes. The room itself was surprisingly dim considering the type of work that went on within, and the only source of light was a small but bright lamp on one of the desks. Besides the desk and mountains of papers were bottles of ink and a variety of quills and paintbrushes laying about on nearly every horizontal surface. There was no apparent organization to any of it, and despite my trust in Aerin, I was a little wary that this dwarf wasn't the best person for the job.
“Is he... here?” Emeline asked hesitantly, putting a voice to the very thought I’d just had myself.
“Keep your heads on, I’m here,” came a gruff voice from behind a tower of papers. Emric stepped out before us and placed himself in the last available area of the room that wasn’t covered in paper. The dwarf was heavyset and had a dark, bushy brow and an even bushier beard. His fingers and shirt were smudged with ink, and he had to push his thin wire spectacles up on his nose with the back of his wrist as he peered at us.
“What do you need?” the dwarf asked brusquely as pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his hands. If anything, it seemed as though he’d only succeeded in spreading the ink around.
“We need you to forge an invitation to a party for us,” Aerin said.
One of Emric’s bushy eyebrows twitched up, but whatever snide comment he was thinking about, he didn’t voice it.
“Here’s what we need you to copy,” Aerin said, and she produced one of the bandits’ notes and held it out to the dwarf. “Just change the name at the top so that it doesn’t say the Magpies.”
“What’s it supposed to say?” Emric asked as he blinked slowly up at us.
Aerin looked back at the rest of us with a little shrug.
“Ooh, how about the Crows?” Emeline suggested. “That sounds mysterious, don’t you think?”
> Emric just blinked at her.
“The Crows is good,” I said.
“Just the one invitation, then?” Emric asked.
“That’s right,” Aerin told him. “But we need it immediately. What’s the fastest you could get it finished?”
Emric considered the Magpies’ invitation for a moment.
“Can have it done by tomorrow,” he said at length.
Aerin frowned, then took a gold coin out of her purse and held it out to the dwarf. “How about now?”
Emric took the coin and slipped it into his pocket. I couldn’t actually see his mouth, but his mustache twitched, so I supposed he was smiling.
“Two hours,” he amended. “Come back then.”
Chapter 14
It was the night of the blood moon, and our only chance to stop the heist. We had found out how to get to the meeting place in the Sunken Caverns, and we had our forged invitation and our costumes from Madame Delafose. We had gone over the plan multiple times. This was a stealth mission. We wanted to sneak in, find Cygne, and either arrest him or kill him before he could give the final directions to the rest of the bandits.
It was late in the afternoon, and I had just finished getting dressed in the dark blue costume Delafose had given me. The designer had sent over masks as well to further conceal our identities and complete the costumes, and I tried mine on and looked at myself in the mirror on the wall of my bedroom.
The mask was the same dark blue as the suit and cape I had on. It was made of fabric, but it was stiff and molded to fit perfectly against my face even without a strap to hold it in place. It sort of looked like a superhero mask, the kind of thing Robin or Green Arrow might wear... if they were going to a fancy costume party in a magical, alternate dimension, I supposed. I took the mask off and tucked it into my pocket, then belted my dagger around my waist, and draped the cape over it to conceal the weapon.
None of the notes we’d found had instructed the participants to come unarmed, so I didn’t actually know if my knife would be a problem or not, but I wasn’t going to leave it at home and I suspect none of the other bandits would either. Of course, the others were going to have to bring their weapons as well, which we’d decided to store in an enchanted pouch that Aerin had found in the black market. The elf hadn’t been pleased by the amount of gold the seller demanded in exchange for it, but it was small and discreet as well as capable of storing everything from Lavinia’s bow and quiver to Maruk’s twin shields, so it wasn’t the sort of thing we could afford to pass up.
