by Matt Forbeck
As happy as I was to get right up to the Great Circle without being stopped by a horde of undead, when I reached the wall, I had to finally admit I’d come up against something I hadn’t planned for. If I’d been by myself, I could have cast a spell to camouflage myself and then another spell to let me climb the wall like a spider. I’d done it before, and as long as I didn’t climb over the wall straight in front of one the guards on patrol, it usually went off without a hitch.
I didn’t know if I could make it while carrying Moira and the chest though. I could maybe shrink down the chest, although I didn’t know how well that kind of spell would work on something like a dragon’s egg, as rife as it was with its own powerful kind of magic. I heard a groan off in the scrub brush to one side though, and I knew that I didn’t have much choice but to give it a shot.
I put down Moira and the chest and flexed the blood back into my arms. They stung, but one look at Moira’s raw stump reminded me that I’d survived that tussle back in the hideout better than anyone else. Being cautious, I reloaded my scattergun with another shell before I set to work.
I tapped the chest with my wand, and it shrank down small enough that I could slip it into a jacket pocket along with the shotgun shells. I didn’t want to risk shrinking down Moira, as I wasn’t sure how that might affect her wound, so I held her to my chest like a toddler I was carrying to bed and cast a quick spell that buttoned my jacket tight around her, freeing up my arms.
My head still swam from the dragonfire I’d drank before, but I needed more. I dug past the sleeping Moira to find my flask and pull it out. I unscrewed the top and took a long slug from it. Then I took another. And another.
It didn’t burn as bad this time. The first shots were always the worst. I felt the mojo swim through my veins alongside the alcohol, and my head spun with both booze and power.
I stared up at the wall towering above me, the silvery moonlight shining down on it. The waterfall that ran near the Great Gate roared off to my right. Far behind me, I thought I could hear someone — maybe an orc who deserved nothing better — let loose with a final scream. Maybe the zombies had turned on each other like they sometimes did. I couldn’t tell anymore.
All I knew was that I needed to get up that wall fast, before the dragonfire laid me low. I pointed my wand at myself and cast a spell that made my hands sticky as could be. Then I stuck my wand between my teeth and set to climbing.
With Moira and all my gear and the shrunken chest on me, I felt like I was swimming with anchors chained to my ankles. Still, I struggled on, only having to rest once or twice as I moved higher up the wall. It wasn’t until I was halfway up that I realized I’d forgotten to cast the camouflage spell.
That’s one of the troubles with dragonfire. It makes you powerful and stupid.
I didn’t want to risk casting a spell while halfway up the wall unless I had to. It was hard enough to maintain my grip on the cut stone there with two hands. I decided instead to try to stick to the shadows between the glowglobes that lit up a good deal of the wall and to trust to whatever luck might shine on drunks and fools — of which I was currently both.
I made it to the top of the wall and waited until a patrol passed by, then hauled myself up and toppled right over the crenellations. I lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath and will the feeling back into my arms. I let my wand drop from my mouth and clatter on the stone walkway. That’s when I heard the alarm go up and boot steps start pounding my way.
I got to my knees, unbuttoned my jacket, and set Moira down on the ground in front of me. Guards raced toward me from either side. I only had a moment to act.
I knew I’d need my borrowed mojo to get away rather than hide, so I whipped the orc’s mask out of my pocket and pulled it over my head. It smelled awful, but that was a small price to pay to keep the guards from seeing who I was.
I didn’t want to have to kill any of them to get away, but I was just as determined not to let them haul me in. They were just doing their jobs, I knew, but if they arrested me, I’d lose the egg for sure. It was the key to this whole mess, and I wasn’t about to give it over to Yabair and his friends quite yet.
I gave Moira a quick kiss on her forehead for luck. Then I scooped up my wand, ran for the other side of the wall, and vaulted over it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
On the inside side of the wall, the drop wasn’t nearly as sharp or as far. Over the centuries, the ramshackle shanties of Goblintown had climbed higher and higher up the inside of the wall until some of them nearly reached the promenade that stretched along its top. The only thing that kept them from reaching higher were the occasional random fires the Guard set on their roofs with flaming arrows to warn the people who lived in them to keep their distance.
I slid down the sloping wall, the rough spots in the cut stone tearing at my pants and boots and bruising the flesh beneath. I dragged one still-sticky hand behind me to slow my descent and held my wand out before me at the ready. I landed in the middle of someone’s idea of a roof garden with a crash that sent plants and pots flying everywhere.
A group of orcs and goblins — who had been enjoying the coolness of the evening after a hot day in the filthiest part of the city — stood up from where they’d been sipping at mugs of bitter ale and glared at me with naked hatred in their yellow eyes. A few of them spotted my mask and gasped. The largest of them, though, stood up and hefted a battered axe in his hand.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Just passing through.”
I dashed for the far edge of that roof. Spells and bullets rained down at me from the guards on the wall above, and the people whose party I’d interrupted scattered. Even the big guy with the axe found something better to do that didn’t involve him getting caught in the crossfire.
I didn’t have time to cast a spell. I just leaped off the end of the edge and hoped it wasn’t too far. I think that had more to do with the booze rushing through me than any sense of magical power.
I landed on a sloped roof of thatch that gave a bit as I hit it but held. With a bit of a bounce, I slid downward once more, this time landing on a darkened rooftop next to a battered birdbath.
Rather than leap down to the next level, I slunk back into the shadows and found a shuttered window that overlooked the roof. I was in too much of a hurry to check to see if it was locked, so I shoved my hat farther down on my head, lowered my shoulder, and charged straight through it.
I wound up in someone’s bedroom, and the occupants awoke with my entrance and began to scream. I raced for the room’s only door and slammed it behind me as I snaked my way through the darkened apartment, hunting for a way out. I spied a door near the kitchen and beelined for it.
I was in the hallway before someone in the bedroom started shooting at me. I found the stairs and took them down two at a time, story after story, until I reached the level of the street.
At one of the landings on the way down, I slipped off the assassin’s mask and stuffed it back into my pocket. That left me looking like a human racing through Goblintown in the middle of the night, which wasn’t much of an improvement over looking like a member of the Black Hand. I needed to fix that fast.
When I got to the street level, I kept going down one more flight into the first basement level. The buildings nearest the Great Circle had extensive underground networks below them. Tunnels and rooms riddled the bedrock here, and someone who knew what they were doing could disappear into them for weeks.
I wasn’t such a person, but I didn’t need to disappear for more than a moment. Once I reached the first basement landing, I turned my wand on myself and cast a complicated spell designed to make me look like an orc. I modeled my look after that of Kai, the orc I knew best. If someone reported seeing him flee from the scene, I hoped he’d forgive me. At the moment, it wasn’t high on my list of worries.
With that done, I slipped my wand into its holster and crept my way back up to street level. There I found the exterior door and slipped out into th
e night.
I could still hear the commotion going on overhead, but the people I’d terrified by charging through their apartment had given up the chase. The Guard hadn’t bothered to come down off the wall to find me, which meant they were good little soldiers obeying their orders to stay put rather than chase anyone into the city. Letting someone go by didn’t please their bosses, I knew, but the penalties for abandoning their posts were a lot harsher, no matter what the circumstances might be.
Trying to walk casually, I strode down the center of the street like I had a purpose, and I wound my way upslope. I didn’t have a chance of flagging a cab here — none of the hacks came into this part of town — but if I could manage to get out of Goblintown with my skin intact, I’d be all but home.
Twice a gang of roving toughs spotted me and decided I seemed interesting enough to accost. All I had to do was show them my scattergun, though, and they wandered off looking for easier prey instead. If I’d looked human, they might have chanced attacking me, betting that anyone else in the area would help gang up on me, but since I looked just like them — only better dressed — they thought better of it fast.
By the time I reached the edge of the Village, the adrenaline of the chase had worn off, and I was staggering from side to side from all the booze I’d drunk. I let my spell expire, and my face returned to normal. Given everything I’d been through that day, I felt relieved that I couldn’t see myself at the moment.
Even as a human, I must have looked suspect enough for most of the cabbies to just pass me right by. Eventually I managed to flag down a brave soul, though, who scooped me up and brought me straight to the Barrelrider, as I requested. I spent the entire trip lolling about on the flying carpet, trying not to throw up on anyone below.
I don’t remember much of that, but when we reached the Barrelrider, Nit came out to accept the hack’s delivery of my drunken self. He tried to ask me about Moira, but I wasn’t coherent enough to have that conversation with him right then. He brought me into his place, poured me into one of the dining alcoves, and shut the curtain behind me. As I nodded off, I put my hand into my pocket and found the tiny chest with the egg inside it sitting there, and I clung to it tight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The next morning, I woke up in my own bed and discovered that the chest was gone. I was still in my clothes, which were crusted with blood, but someone had rifled through my pockets and laid the contents out on the sheets next to me. That included the scattergun, the shells, my flask, and the assassin’s mask but no chest.
I sat up and wished I hadn’t. Dragonfire hangovers make regular ones seem cute. I felt like someone had opened up a desert amphitheater inside my mouth and had booked in an all-drums band for a week-long stand.
I fell back over on the bed, and waited for the room to stop spinning. I wanted to vomit, but I didn’t have anything left in my belly to return to the outside world. I just lay there and wondered if taking another sip from the flask would kill the pain or make it worse. I couldn’t decide if it hurt too much to move to give it a try.
I was still lying there when the Guard came knocking on my door. They didn’t knock on it so much as kick it in, which saved me the trouble of having to get up. They even came straight into my back room so I could express my gratitude straight away.
“You had a rough night,” Yabair said as he entered the room. Another elf in a guard’s uniform flanked him on either side. They just stood there and glared at me without saying a word.
Since no one offered me a hand, I struggled to sit up on my own. “Just another fun time at the Quill,” I said, rubbing my eyes in a vain attempt to keep the sunlight streaming in my window from lighting off explosions of pain in my head. “You should join us next time.”
“Perhaps I should. Perhaps I should come down there every night, with a full contingent of guards, just to check in and see what’s happening down there in your little dive.”
He was hitting me below the belt. Even if he didn’t know about my investment in the bar, threatening a man’s favorite watering hole just isn’t fair.
“I didn’t realize the Dragon gave a damn about my drinking habits.”
Yabair sneered at me. “You left the hospital in a hurry yesterday.”
“I had business to take care of.”
“And you didn’t come home until late.”
I tried to keep from rolling my eyes at him, not to avoid pissing him off but because I could feel them scraping around in their sockets. “It took a long time.”
“Any luck?”
I glanced at the two elves who’d come in with Yabair. “You don’t want to talk with me in private?”
“Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my soldiers,” he said.
I smirked at that. “Someone put you on a short leash?”
He snorted at me. “I asked them to come here with me so that I would have witnesses to support me should I decide to thrash you.”
“‘Thrash’? Is that an upslope word for guard beating?”
“As you prefer.”
He’d bored me already. “Get to the damn point.”
“Your friend Moira Erdini appeared on the high promenade of the Great Circle last night, near death.”
“And?”
“We found her hand in her pocket. It was no longer attached to her wrist.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I tried to keep any semblance of real interest out of my voice.
“The physicians were unable to reattach her hand, but she will survive. She’s just down the hall from your wizard friend.”
“Will she still be there later if I decide to visit?”
I looked Yabair in the eyes. He knew what I was really asking.
“Her injury seems consistent with the mortal wounds sustained by the Gütmanns. It’s impossible to tell, of course, but the same blade may have been used in both attacks.”
“What a coincidence.”
The elf on my left stepped forward and backhanded me across the jaw. I saw stars.
“You will speak to the captain with all due respect.”
I rubbed my jaw. “I was, jackass.”
The elf raised his hand to strike me again, but Yabair caught him by the wrist and held him in a steely grasp. He snarled at the aggressive guard, making sure the elf knew who was in charge. “Leave here, now.” Yabair gestured toward the other one. “Both of you. Wait for me on the street.”
The other guards glared daggers at me as they left. I ignored them. Once the door shut behind them, Yabair gazed down at me and gave me a sad shake of his head.
“Does this clear Johan?” I asked.
Yabair shrugged. “A person was seen with Miss Erdini last night when she was found atop the wall. He wore a mask that looked a great deal like the one lying there next to you.”
I scooped up the mask and tossed it to him. The movement sent a pang of pain through my skull, but I slapped a simple frown over it. No need to let Yabair know how awful I felt.
“That came off the orc that attacked me at Moira’s place. My guess is he’s the same guy who killed the Gütmanns.”
Yabair caught the mask in midair and inspected it. “And where is he now?”
“He found justice.”
Yabair nodded at that. “You know what the penalties are for leaving Dragon City without permission?”
I folded my arms in front of me. “Now why would I need to know something like that?”
“Perhaps I only need to inspect the contents of your flask there instead.”
I rubbed my aching head. “You want a drink that bad, I’ll buy you a fresh one at the Quill.”
Yabair smirked at me. “I don’t approve of vigilantes. Not in my city.” He rubbed his smooth chin. “But they can have their uses.”
I had a lot of replies for that, but none that would fail to incriminate me in any way. I kept my mouth shut.
“If I find out that this mask is a fake. If more dwarves die in the same way —�
��
“You won’t. And you don’t want to hear what I had to go through to get it.”
Yabair pursed his lips, then spoke. “Johan will be released. I consider this matter with the Gütmanns closed. For now.”
That was the great thing about justice in Dragon City. No one gave a damn about the rules, as long as the people in power got what they wanted — or at least thought they had. I wasn’t about to tell him about the egg, especially since I didn’t have it at the moment. I suspected the Dragon hadn’t mentioned it to him either.
“Fine,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Glad to hear it. Now can you leave me alone to nurse my hangover in peace?”
Yabair nodded at me, then made for the door. Just before he reached it, he stopped and looked back at me. “Good day to you, Gibson. You certainly earned it.”
Then he slammed the door behind him. I fought back a moan of despair at the pain the noise caused as it rattled around in my head. I wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Once I was able to move under my own power, I crawled downstairs in search of coffee. Nit saw me the moment I poked my head into the Barrelrider, and he charged right at me and hustled me straight back up the stairs.
“I can’t have you sitting in my restaurant looking like that, Max,” he said. “You’ll frighten off all my customers. Get cleaned up. I’ll have the missus bring you something up in a moment.”
I did as ordered and stripped off my filthy, blood-crusted clothes, then cleaned myself up with a simple spell that just about killed me to cast. I thought about burning my dirty clothes right then and there but settled for just tossing them in the trash instead. I picked out a fresh outfit and was just buttoning up my shirt when I heard a knock at the door.
It was Nit’s wife, Nora — the side of the family from which Moira got her good looks, for sure — and she had a tray filled with pancakes and bacon, plus a steaming mug of coffee that held more liquid than my flask. She set it down on my desk and waited for me to come out of the back room and sit down in front of it. I thanked her for it, but she didn’t say a word. She just let the tears well up in her eyes as she looked at me, then flung her arms around my shoulder as she burst.
