by Randy Nargi
* * *
A FORTNIGHT LATER, A TALL, GREY-EYED MAN NAMED BANDER WALKED THROUGH THE TREES ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE MATHAM WOOD WEST OF LHAWSTER. He had been on the road for nearly a month and was down to his last few silver coins. Not that he spent a lot during his travels. Bander lived very simply these days. And he lived to walk.
After two decades as an Imperial investigator in Rundlun, Bander was sick of seeing nothing but city walls. So when he mustered out three years ago at the rank of Red Shoulder Captain, Bander decided he’d spend the rest of his days wandering Harion—from Waterside to Laketon to Lhawster to Kreed’s Keep to The Steading to Rundlun to Hamwick and then back to Waterside. It was a loop that ran nearly 7,000 miles and took him well over a year to complete, but Bander treasured every step. He did, however, like to travel unencumbered—and that meant caching coins outside of each major city he visited. It wasn’t that Bander was concerned about robbers and highwaymen—it was more that he didn’t want to pay the tax levied on gold being transported into each city.
Bander made sure he was alone, then sought out a particular hollowed log next to a boulder as tall as he was. Hoping there was nothing inside that might sink its fangs into his fingers, Bander reached into the log. He felt a braided cord and tugged it, extracting a oilskin pouch from its hiding place. Inside were enough regmarks to keep him in food, drink, and amusement for the two weeks he would be in Lhawster. Or at least that’s what he expected to be in the pouch. Instead there were a dozen rocks. And a flat slab of crystal the size of his hand.
Bander gripped his shortstaff and scanned the area. He didn’t believe that whoever stole his cache would be stupid enough to remain in the vicinity, but he needed a few moments to calm himself so that he could assess the situation. He spiraled out a few hundred yards from the log, looking for tracks. Bander wasn’t a ranger by any means—not even an amateur one—but he’d become more familiar with signs of the forest since he began his wandering. But there were no telltale broken branches, no bits of cloth, no bootprints that he could detect.
The wind began to pick up and the clouds swirled above his head. Bander gathered his pack and the pouch and angled back towards the trade road to Lhawster. It was close to noon and the city was probably a couple of miles away. As he walked, it dawned on Bander that he now had a bit of a problem. His few remaining silver pieces would not last long in Lhawster. Maybe a day’s worth of food and lodging. He wondered if the crystal in his pouch had any value. It was certainly left for a reason. Perhaps to trade for the gold.
He stopped by a boulder, sat down, and removed the crystal from his pouch. It was a slab as thick as his thumb, sliced from a much larger piece, and polished on one face. The sun filtered by the darkening clouds caused the crystal to act as a poor mirror, but still Bander could see his own face in the stone, grey-streaked beard, thick eyebrows, and curious steel-grey eyes. But then Bander saw something else in the crystal. It almost looked like stars in a night sky, swirling and blinking in and out. And then another face stared at him. It was the face of a young woman. She had brown hair and light-colored eyes and full lips pursed in a frown. A single moment before the woman spoke, Bander understood what he was holding. A scrying crystal. And it was worth much more than the gold in his pouch. In fact, it was worth ten times more than all the gold in all his pouches spread throughout Harion.
“Bander of Rundlun,” the young woman intoned in a serious voice. “I am Silbra Dal of the White, representing the Guild at the Esoterium in Waterside. Your presence is requested here.”
Bander could hear her voice as clearly as if she were standing beside him. “Waterside? Truly? You stole my gold. Why would I go to Waterside?”
Another voice from within the crystal answered. “Because I asked you to…”
It was a voice Bander recognized at once—even after more than fifteen years. Through the crystal, a tall, gaunt woman stepped into view. She was still beautiful, but the years had sucked the color from her hair and her complexion. It was Vala. She nodded at Bander once, then walked out of view like a ghost.
Silbra Dal instructed Bander to journey to Lhawster and make his way to the Gold Quarter. There he would seek out a mage named Harnotis Kodd.
Several hours later Bander found the wizard’s lavish estate on Adelward Lane and was admitted into the compound by a silent servant who brought Bander into a reception room. Harnotis Kodd was fat and old, likely past his 60th year, but he had a cunning look in his eyes that was not diminished in any way by his age. As per the young woman’s instructions, Bander gave Harnotis Kodd the scrying crystal and then accompanied him to a workroom in the back of the main house. Without much ceremony, Harnotis Kodd created a portal to Waterside which Bander stepped through. And just like that he was back in the city he left nearly seven weeks ago. Over a thousand miles traveled in less than a second. Private portals were not cheap, Bander mused. Someone must want him here very much.
The room that he found himself in was large and adorned with six stone pillars. By the looks of the pennants and tapestries on the wall, he was in some sort of royal hall—most likely in a wing of the Lord Governor’s mansion. An echo of boots from behind him alerted Bander to someone entering the hall. He turned to see Vala. He knew better than to try to embrace the tall warrior, so he contented himself with studying her visage. In person her long grey-silver hair and pale, lined face were much more pleasant than the image he saw in the scrying crystal. He noticed that she was wearing ornamental jewelry—rings in her ears and on her fingers as well as other bangles, necklaces, and baubles. She never used to wear jewelry, claiming that it might give an enemy something to grab on to. Now it appeared that she was either very confident in her combat abilities, or she just didn’t care. And while Bander was studying Vala, she was studying him. Finally, she broke the silence.
“Tobin Leroth is dead.”
Bander shut his eyes and sat down on a stone bench. He didn’t say anything for a long time.
Vala continued, “He was murdered. And not how you think—”
“Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
“We are still unsure about much of what happened, but here’s what we do know. On the morning of the fifteen day of Lenting someone abducted Tobin Leroth from his quarters, beat him, bound him in relorcan manacles, and strung him up on one of the old catapults on the Great Lawn outside the Lord Governor’s mansion. Then they shot him over a wall and into a crowd watching the Summer Finding Day parade.”
Bander took a deep breath.
“Tobin Leroth was dead when he hit the ground,” Vala continued. “It was a half day later until we were able to identify him. At that point any attempts at revival proved fruitless. They had spiked his innards with acid. I had my men search the area around the catapult as well as Tobin Leroth‘s quarters and his office in the Esoterium, but we didn’t find anything. The catapult itself was burned, so the mages weren’t able to pull any traces off of it.”
Bander asked Vala to repeat everything one more time. The he sat in silence for several minutes. Thinking. Finally, he said “The manacles are what confuse me.”
Relorcan was a rare and expensive material. Constabularies in most cities and larger towns might have relorcan manacles, but smaller towns and hamlets typically were unable to afford them. They were certainly something you wouldn’t discard—even if you were making a statement with your murder.
“Given what he was working on, it’s not unreasonable to think Tobin Leroth had some well-financed enemies,” Vala said.
Bander didn’t say anything.
“We’ve been at it for weeks. I need your help with this.”
“The trail is too cold.”
“I know…there were delays…bureaucracy…and you’re not an easy man to find.”
Bander nodded. He gave up investigation three years ago, but he couldn’t say no to this. He couldn’t say no to a friend. “Show me where he lived.”
As they walked through the park-like gr
ounds of the Palace District, Bander and Vala fell into a comfortable conversation. Bander had some vague recollection that Vala had served in the Guard, but now he learned that she was employed by Lord Governor Asryn as First Man (or in this case ‘First Woman’) of the Falward, Asryn’s secret police organization. The Falward, which many likened to the old Order of the Gargoyle, had a reputation for brutality. Although Vala’s demeanor was naturally cold and reserved, Bander had a hard time seeing her as the head of the Falward. Still, judging by the fine cloth of her cloak and the South Plains leather of her boots, Vala was doing well in her position.
She led Bander to a relatively new part of the Palace District which was devoted to magical research: the Esoterium. Forty foot high walls, manned by guardsmen, surrounded a campus of sprawling buildings. They walked past an immense library and then along a row of smaller structures and under an archway. There Bander saw a large lawn ringed on three sides by more multi-storey buildings. He recognized some of the structures.
“This was the old prison,” Bander mused. He didn’t add that he spent more than one night behind bars in the old Waterside facility back when he was much younger.
“Yes. They tore part of it down and built the Esoterium six years ago. It was one of Asryn’s first acts as new Lord Governor.”
Even down in the capital he had heard of the grand aspirations of Abuth Asryn IV, part of the so-called “New Blood of the North,” a loose affiliation of politicians who were determined to advance society through magical research. And although many in the Imperial Court were skeptical, Asryn and his cohorts ultimately convinced the Viceroy that it was prudent to devote resources to counter the magical aspirations of the rival realms of Kaarna, Triscar, Gadmark, and the Tengan Territories.
“And is it producing anything?” Bander asked. “Or is it some sort of boondoggle designed to fill the coffers of Meomannan Quill?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask,” said Vala. “I don’t get involved in politics.”
“We’re all involved,” Bander said. “Whether you think so or not.”
The residence hall turned out to be three storeys of maze-like hallways connecting suites of private rooms for the magical researchers as well as group quarters for a special detachment of guardsmen assigned to security duty.
“Pretty tight,” Bander nodded as they made their way through the hall. “Who’s in charge here?”
“Rolo Caldward. He’s an old-timer. Came up with Asryn from Waterside.”
“Let’s have a chat with him.”
“That’s already on the agenda. You need a brooch anyway. And there’s paperwork. Rolo Caldward likes to document everything. But first let’s take a look at Tobin Leroth’s quarters.”
Vala steered Bander down a corridor which ended in a light wooden door which was normally unlocked, but was now guarded by one of Vala’s men. “No locks,” she explained. “We assumed that with everyone around—not to mention the wards—we didn’t have to deal with locks. Of course some of the mages installed their own, but Tobin Leroth didn’t.”
“I doubt it would have made a difference. He was taken from here?”
“As far as we can tell, but you see how impossible that is. We’re in a secure building within a fort within a walled district. The Esoterium is guarded by 40 men and a few dozen of the most powerful wards in the city.” Vala touched her fingers to the wood-paneled walls. “Relorcan veins run through the building. No one can teleport in or out.”
“Truly?”
“Asryn spared no expense. Or Aglaard Shie demanded it. He’s the administrator.”
Bander nodded. He had heard the name before.
“There are even a bunch of faerlings around. Somewhere.” Faerlings were semi-intelligent ape-like creatures which had a unique ability. They could detect human thoughts, which made them a welcome addition to guard stations.
Vala approached the guard. “All quiet?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped aside.
Inside, Tobin Leroth‘s chambers were pretty much what Bander expected. Clean, simple, functional. The mage had lived by a spartan philosophy. He had purposely avoided excess in all its forms. Which made him unpopular at celebrations, but a smart, dedicated researcher and a much-valued member of the kind of team both Bander and Vala had been a part of all those years ago.
As he examined the room, Bander could sense his friend’s presence. He touched the melted candles by the bedside, opened up the tall wardrobe and went through Tobin Leroth‘s clothing, then examined some of the books on a heavy bookshelf near the door. Nothing looked out of place. But, as expected, there also was nothing personal in the room. No trophies. No paintings. No love letters.
Bander felt Vala watching him as he continued looking around the room. She and Tobin Leroth were very similar. Both had little use for emotion. In Vala’s case, it was due to a traumatic episode that had torn her life apart when she was a young girl. In Tobin Leroth‘s case, his austerity had been a choice.
“Were you the one who brought him to Asryn?” Bander asked. “Did you recommend him?”
“I had nothing to do with that. He just showed up one day. I saw him in the mess hall talking with Shie. He saw me across the chamber and it registered on his face. Not surprise, you know—”
Bander smiled. “No. Never surprise. Did he do that eyebrow arching…?”
“Yes.” Vala almost smiled back, but she didn’t. “Anyway, we talked a lot that night. He watched me get drunk. It took a while.”
“I bet.”
“Then I went back to my chambers. I saw him maybe four or five times after that. We had dinner a few times. But…”
“It wasn’t the same.”
Vala nodded. “It never is. Never can be.”
“What about me? Do I get a couple of fine meals out of this?”
“Certainly. At least you like to get drunk.” Again, she almost smiled. “Let’s find Caldward.”
