by Randy Nargi
* * *
THE YOUNG SORCERESS MET THEM BESIDE A LARGE FOUNTAIN IN A COURTYARD BETWEEN TWO BUILDINGS. In person Silbra Dal looked smaller and less haughty. Without any sort of preamble, she began a tour of the facility.
“The lab itself is divided into two areas: research and testing. Tobin Leroth worked in the theoretical magic division, so he spent much of his time in the East Library here,” Silbra Dal gestured towards a single-story brick structure across the courtyard.
Bander had no idea of the nature of Tobin Leroth‘s particular project other than it had been almost certainly related to summoning magic. He asked Silbra Dal for more details, but as expected, she “respectfully” declined to answer. Instead she brought them inside the sunny East Library and introduced them to two mages who worked with Tobin Leroth.
The older of the two was a grey-haired, bearded man from the South named Eaith Garfaen. He had an annoying habit of not meeting anyone’s gaze when conversing. Instead he would look off in the distance—as if blind (which he wasn’t). His famulus apprentice was more jovial: an eager young man named Hal Deorr—originally from Vale. Both mages expressed the requisite sympathy for the loss of Tobin Leroth, but it was clear that their relationship was simply professional. Tobin Leroth had kept to himself, even among the mages.
As the grey-haired mage hastened to remind them, he and Hal had been fully interrogated by the Falward as well as by the Guild Representative. Their answers remained the same: “No, Tobin Leroth had not been acting oddly. No, he hadn’t received visitors recently. And no, there had not been any unusual developments in the research.”
Before Bander could pose another question, there was a loud, low boom and an explosion rocked the courtyard. Books tumbled from the shelves of the library and the air swirled thick with dust. Outside, cries of alarm echoed throughout the yard. Bander and Vala raced to the window. Across the narrow courtyard, heavy black smoke billowed from a collapsed wall of the testing lab. Mages scattered like chickens. From the smoke a fiery creature emerged. It was humanoid, but stood half again as tall as a man. Flames billowed from its body as it raged through the courtyard, smashing ornamental planters and stone benches.
“A construct is loose,” hissed the older mage. “Flee!”
Bander and Vala did just the opposite; they barreled out of the library into the courtyard, weapons readied. But between Bander’s shortstaff and Vala’s sword, they were not at all equipped to deal with something that projected flames out as far as a man’s outstretched arm. There was no way to get close enough to strike the creature.
Bander spied the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and got an idea. He scooped up a chunk of broken brick and hurled it at the construct. It struck the creature in a fiery spray of sparks. The creature turned toward Bander and registered him as a foe.
Whump! Following Bander’s lead, Vala pitched a brick of her own into the construct. “What are we doing?” she screamed to Bander.
“Follow me!” He struck the firespawn with another brick and it began to lope towards them. Vala continued the barrage.
Bander and Vala led the fire construct towards the fountain, which featured a statue of Vargir in a low pool about five yards across. Bander leapt into the pool and waved his arms menacingly at the construct. As he had hoped, the creature’s elemental nature precluded much reasoning on its part. The construct chased after him—right into a large volume of water—which instantly plumed into scalding steam.
Bander threw his body out of the fountain and rolled painfully on the ground. He looked up—hoping to see the creature writhing in pain from the water, but no such luck. Its fire had burned all the water away—with no damage to the construct. If anything, the firespawn was raging even more violently.
The creature sprang from the nearly-empty fountain and loomed up over Bander’s prone form.
But suddenly a blast of magic energy struck the construct and enveloped it in a swirling plasma sphere. Bander glanced over to see Silbra Dal locked in concentration, binding the creature with a holding spell. A group of mages quickly joined their spells with hers and soon the construct was sent back to whatever plane it had come from.
“Did you really think that would work?” Vala muttered to Bander.
Before he could answer, she turned to help Silbra Dal to one of the undamaged benches. Clearly the effort had drained the young sorceress. Still, Bander was impressed. Silbra Dal had immobilized the construct before any of the other mages could act. That took a lot of courage.
Two guardsmen escorted Silbra Dal back to her quarters to recuperate, while Vala brought Bander to the Falward barracks just north of the Esoterium. They had to go slowly while Bander tried to walk off the pain from his strained muscles.
Inside the Falward barracks was a wing of bunk rooms. Vala led him to a storage room at the end of the hall which contained six beds. Three were unused.
“Sorry we don’t have anything more comfortable,” Vala said. “As part of my reorganization, I wanted to strip away all the trappings of entitlement. Get back to soldiering.”
“This is luxury to me,” Bander sat down on one of the beds.
“Well, I can at least offer you some clean clothes…”
“I’m not sure we’re the same size.”
Vala didn’t smile. “There’s a supply room in the other wing. Yarden is the quartermaster. He’ll provide you with dress clothes and give you some healing salve. He’ll also direct you to the baths and our barber.”
“I came here to solve a murder—not win a pageant.”
Vala shrugged. “It would be disrespectful to meet the Lord Governor looking like you do.”
After Vala left, Bander did indeed follow her directions and cleaned himself up. Yarden, the quartermaster, initially had a difficult time finding a dress jerkin and breeches that would fit Bander’s large frame, but was able to cobble something together and make some quick alterations.
“You’ve seen some combat,” Yarden quipped, noting the fact that Bander’s shoulders, chest, and abdomen were crisscrossed by a horrifying quantity of thick scars. “Don’t bleed on these clothes. I’ll be wanting them back in the morning.”
“I’ll try not to,” Bander said.
With two hours to wait before the Lord Governor’s reception and fearing his muscles might cramp up without exercise, Bander decided to walk the grounds of the Lord Governor’s estate.
Known as the Palace District and effectively a walled city-within-a-city, the estate was built on the site of the old Waterside citadel. Bander had already seen parts of it: the Esoterium complex, barracks, training grounds, and armory, but he also discovered parks, orchards, warehouses, stables, residential areas—including a guest embassy, the Lawhouse complex of courtrooms and the new Waterside prison, and a small village of workers called Craftertown which primarily supplied the estate and government’s goods and services.
As dusk began to fall, Bander straightened his borrowed clothes and made his way to the Lord Governor’s mansion, which was truly more of a palace. In fact, the old Stronghold of the Seas fortress, which predated the actual city of Waterside, served as the foundation for the mansion. Bander entered between double sets of thick walls and strolled into a stately hall crowded with nobles and dignitaries. The smell of roasted meats and fresh-baked bread blended with incense and perfume hit Bander as he made his way deeper into the mansion. His ears, used to the relative quiet of the empty road, were assaulted by the combined hubbub of a few hundred guests trying to be heard over the music and singing of troubadours.
Bander scanned the throng of partygoers for Vala. He knew that she shared his discomfort of events such as these. She’d likely be on the fringes of the crowd, biding her time until she could politely depart.
“A drink, Captain?” asked a voice at his elbow. Bander turned to see Silbra Dal, dressed in a shimmering dress robe with lace trim. She offered a goblet of wine to him with an enigmatic smile. He bowed slightly, took the goblet, and to
asted to her health.
“That was quite a display in the Esoterium,” he said. “You work quickly, Mistress.”
“The mages were careless, I’m afraid. And they ignored the proper conjuration procedures for a fire construct of that magnitude. There will, of course, be repercussions…”
“And will there be repercussions for the death of Tobin Leroth?”
“Of course,” she said. “As soon as you help identify those responsible. The Guild will proceed from there.”
Bander took another sip of the wine. It was rich and oaky. Much finer than the varieties he usually drank. “Has the Guild exhausted its own inquiries?”
“Not at all, Captain. As you know, it can be most helpful to view a problem from several vantage points.”
“Ah, I take it that I am a vantage point of sorts…?”
“Don’t be modest, sir. Your investigation of the Walding kidnapping is still taught as a case study at the Academy. You broke the Fullscoppe case, saved the Regent, located the Talisman of Lystwin— shall I go on?”
“All ancient history. I’ve spent the last three years on an extended jaunt, and the only mysteries I’ve contemplated are why we don’t ever see baby pigeons or what gets planted to grow Iorlian seedless grapes—”
“Still, an inquisitive mind remains an inquisitive mind…” She favored him again with a half-smile.
“I suppose. Although, as you know, Tobin Leroth was an old friend. Of mine and Vala’s.”
“I am aware of the relationship. You believe that to be an impediment to your investigation?”
“Don’t you? We will hardly approach this case with the detachment necessary to—”
She cut him off. “Detachment? That is the last thing the Guild wants from you. It is precisely because of your feelings for Tobin Leroth that you are the right man for the job. Tell me truly, would you be here just to collect the gold we’re offering?”
Bander knew she was right. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, then drained his goblet. “Thank you for the wine, Mistress. Please excuse me.”
She nodded at him and Bander continued to weave his way deeper into the crowd of revelers. The hall splintered off into corridors, alcoves, and passages—all filled with small groups of celebrants. Bander helped himself to another goblet of wine from a serving girl and leaned up against the cool stone of a marble pillar.
He tried to block out the noise and the smoke and the glow of hundreds of colored lanterns strung throughout the hall. And then he saw Vala as she stepped from the shadows in an alcove ten yards away. She was dressed in a gown of violet sheercloth with her hair twisted and pleated into a formal style. A nobleman, tall and dark, stepped beside her. It looked like they were in the middle of a conversation, but needed to step away from the crowd to hear one another.
Bander pushed towards them, catching Vala’s eye while he was still a few yards away.
“There you are,” she said, almost shouting. “I was worried that the prospect of attending the Lord Governor’s reception made you hightail it back to Lhawster.”
“Not yet, but the night is still young.”
Vala turned to the nobleman. “Magister Isan Lagurian, may I present Bander, former Captain of the Imperial Guard—”
Isan Lagurian fixed Bander with an amused look and smiled. His teeth were enormous and reminded Bander of a gelding he once had named Dusty. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, sir.”
“Magister Lagurian sits on the council of our friend in Laketon,” Vala said. “He is Bryn Eresthar’s Magister of the Measure.”
Bander didn’t say anything. Bryn Eresthar was the one-time Lord Governor of Waterside and now Lord Governor of Laketon, the only man in ten generations to rule two different city-states at different times. He was also an old friend of Bander, Vala, and Tobin Leroth, but there was a great deal of bad blood between Bryn Eresthar and Lord Governor Asryn. Bander wondered why Bryn’s Magister of the Measure was here attending a party.
“Does Bryn Eresthar know about Tobin Leroth?” Bander asked, more to Vala than Isan Lagurian.
“Yes,” said Isan Lagurian. “The Lord Governor is very troubled by the news. He is meeting with the Viceroy this week else he would certainly be here himself.”
Bander nodded. He saw his friend several times a year during his travels and noted that the man seemed to be increasingly weighed down by the demands of his office. In fact he had been away on state business when Bander passed through the city last month.
Vala patted her hair, which seemed like a very foreign gesture to her. “Bryn doesn’t know that you are here,” she said to Bander quietly.
“Probably for the best,” Bander said. “There would be no keeping him away if he knew.”
“So Captain, have you made any progress?” asked Isan Lagurian.
“Bander has arrived here only today,” Vala said. “He will—”
At that moment the din of the crowd subsided and Bander turned to see the partygoers make way for Lord Governor Abuth Asryn IV and his entourage. Asryn, who fancied himself a “man of the people” took every opportunity to clasp hands, slap backs, or kiss the hands or cheeks of ladies as he passed through the hall.
Vala hastily excused herself to Isan Lagurian and led Bander off to follow the Lord Governor’s entourage into a private chamber. Bander was stopped at the door briefly by the head of Asryn’s personal bodyguard, a thick, hulking man named Neeth.
“He’s with me,” Vala said as she strode into the chamber.
It was a relatively small room compared to others in the manor, perhaps ten yards wide and fifteen long. The several dozen members of Asryn’s entourage as well as other hangers-on quickly filled the space and so the room was nearly as crowded as the hall outside.
“There’s my girl!” Lord Governor Asryn proclaimed when he noticed Vala.
Abuth Asryn IV was a short man, but loud. His family owned vast cattle holdings in the Southeast and was very wealthy, though Asryn wanted everyone to believe that if he wasn’t doing his duty as the Lord Governor of the most powerful city-state in the realm then he’d be back on a ranch in the Steading, wrangling steers or some such.
“Your Grace,” Vala bowed. “May I present Bander of Rundlun, former Captain of the Imperial Guard, here to assist in the investigation of Tobin Leroth’s murder.”
Bander bowed deeply. “Your Grace, I am your servant.”
“Aww, we’ll have none of that. The pomp and ceremony stops at the door. Let me get a look at you, son.” Although the Lord Governor was a good decade younger than both Bander and Vala, he insisted on adopting the demeanor of a friendly older uncle with them and just about everyone he met.
“Bad business with the mage. Bad business.”
“Indeed, your Grace. Please rest assured that we shall discover who is responsible.”
“Did you know the man?”
“Yes, your Grace. Tobin Leroth was an old and dear friend. Before I joined the Imperial Guard, Tobin Leroth, Vala, and I had the honor of escorting Lord Governor Eresthar through the Tenga Wilderlands. But that was many, many years ago…”
Abuth Asryn’s face darkened at the mention of Bryn Eresthar, but just for a moment. Then the short man’s face broken into a forced grin. “Ha, Eresthar. I bet he was whining for his mama the whole way—”
“I do recall a bit of whining when we became trapped in the Temple of Tamoa.”
Asryn barked out a laugh and clasped Bander’s shoulder. “I like this man!” He sloshed a goblet into Bander’s hand. “Drink up!”
“Thank you, my Grace.” Bander smiled and wondered why Asryn was acting so nonchalant at the mention of Bryn Eresthar.
“Aye, a good bottle that. Not like the swill we’re serving out there.” He laughed again and took a swig of his own wine. Then the Lord Governor’s voice became quiet. More serious. “Find who did this, Captain,” he growled. “Find them and I will mete out justice with my own hands.”
