by Randy Nargi
* * *
“MOVE ALONG!” SHOUTED A CLERK WITH A SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT ACCENT. The Laketon waystation looked much like the octagonal building they had just left in Lhawster. The stone was a different shade of grey and the portal mages wore white instead of red, but other than that, the structures were twins. This wasn’t surprising, since all the waystations in Harion had been built by the Mage Guild on land leased from the cities.
Bander scanned the area for people who looked out of place. Harnotis Kodd had mentioned the possibility of bounty hunters, but Bander didn’t think they’d be able to organize quickly enough to be here at the waystation. But informants working for bounty hunters just might be. Bander didn’t see anyone unusual. Keeping in character, he and Silbra Dal plodded towards the exit.
Outside the air was cool and damp and it was raining—as usual. Laketon, as its name suggested, was built on the shores of the expansive Lake Nenring, which lay in the shadow of the Cadaenor Mountains to the northwest. It rained 95 days out of 100 in the Laketon area, which resulted in a green sheen of moss on nearly every surface.
Laketon’s waystation was located just south of the city in a poor outskirts officially known as Southward, although everyone referred to the village as ‘Mudton’ because of its unpaved lanes which resembled rivers of mud eight months out of the year and frozen rivers of mud the rest of the time. A throng of beggars accosted Bander and Silbra Dal as they left the waystation. Bander pushed through them and led Silbra Dal to a stand beside the main road where bedecked coaches could be hired to carry passengers a few hundred yards to the South Gate. They chose one of the less gaudily painted coaches and Bander instructed the driver to take them not to the South Gate, but instead to the Temple Gate on the east side of the city.
As they rode, Bander admired the green stone of the Ramparts rising up from the mist. The Ramparts were an engineering marvel constructed over a thousand years ago. Back then Laketon had double rings of walls built ten to twenty yards apart. During the reign of the House of Forn, members of that ruling family embarked on a massive construction project which roofed over the double walls and built chambers within, creating the largest enclosed structure in the world: a city-within-a-city that spanned a length of nearly five miles and was filled with two levels of shops, stalls, workshops, apartments, and other residences. Over a quarter of the population of Laketon—15,000 people—lived and worked inside the Ramparts. It took a man close to three hours to travel the length of the structure and it was said that anything that was for sale in the Empire could be found within the Ramparts.
Bander had always been fascinated by the challenges that the Ramparts posed from a public safety standpoint. During the first year of his wandering, he spent a full month in the city studying the Ramparts as the guest of his friend Lord Governor Bryn Eresthar. Bryn explained that there were two big issues with the structure: fire and crime. In the early days of the Ramparts, thousands of people died every year when fires raged through the building. This led to strict laws forbidding flames of any sort within 20 yards of the Ramparts. All cooking fires, hearths, smelting furnaces, and even oil lamps and candles had to be located outside. During one of the many renovations to the Ramparts, veins of lightstone were built in to the interior brickwork to provide light within the structure, and bright crystals and other fire-free illumination devices have always been in high demand by the inhabitants of the Ramparts. A second line of defense against fire was a system of aqueducts and cisterns which ran along the top of the wall. Any accidental fires could be dealt with by pulling a lever which would release a rain of water throughout that section of the building. Finally, the most effective deterrent was the set of huge iron doors on each end of every 100-yard section of the Ramparts. In case of fire, the burning section could be quickly sealed off using counterweights and gears to automatically close the doors. In practice this meant that citizens who did not evacuate in time might be trapped within the blaze. As draconian as this procedure was, it led to careful self-policing among the residents—which reduced the number of fires to a handful of non-fatal incidents per year.
Crime was a different matter. The sheer density of people living, working, and conducting trade within the Ramparts resulted in a much greater incidence of robberies, swindling, brawls, muggings, rape, and murder. So far, of all of the recent Lord Governors, Bryn Eresthar had made the most progress in keeping the peace with his squadron of city guards known as “Flyers.” Members of this elite unit were recruited from the best guardsmen in the city and then trained for a half year in a special type of gymnastics and line work. It was remarkable to see a Flyer in action. They normally patrolled the catwalk which ran along the top of the Ramparts, but at any sign of trouble, they used a cunning rope harness fitted with hooks and pulleys to swoop to the ground in a few seconds like a bird of prey, allowing them a tremendous element of surprise. To combat larger scale criminal activities, Flyers could activate the fire doors and seal in sections of the Ramparts, trapping a criminal gang within a 100-yard partition of the structure.
As the carriage drew closer to the Temple Gate, Bander could see the silhouettes of Flyers patrolling the top of the Ramparts. With their long black cloaks made from oiled seretskin, they looked like wraiths in the grey mist.
“Master,” said Silbra Dal, still playing the part of servant girl, “will our first stop be at the weavers?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Bander guessed that ‘weavers’ was her code word for ‘guildhall.’ The young sorceress was eager to comply with her superior’s command. Bander, on the other hand, was more interested in meeting with his friend the Lord Governor Bryn Eresthar.
He told the carriage driver to let them off at the Temple Gate and not proceed inside. After registering—under false names—and paying an entrance tax, Bander and Silbra Dal were admitted into the city-state of Laketon. As soon as they were out of earshot of the gate guards, Silbra Dal reverted to her usual haughty demeanor.
“I insist that you escort me to the guildhall at once, Captain. I have had enough of these charades.”
“Not charades, precautions. And these precautions got us here in one piece, Mistress.”
“You have my gratitude, Captain. Now may we proceed?”
The guildhall was located in the tallest building in Laketon: the old cathedral. Logistically, it did make sense to go there first as they were in the Temple Court neighborhood and the guildhall was just a few blocks away.
“We’ll need to travel on the streets, so I hope you don’t mind the rain.”
Silbra Dal nodded and pulled her cloak tight against the cool drizzle and they set off through Abbey Gardens and down along Turnbury Street to the old cathedral. They arrived without incident. Bander hesitated at the top of the wide marble staircase leading to the main entrance of the guildhall. “I will meet you back here in two hours time,” he said.
“I assumed you would accompany me within…”
“I must seek out the Lord Governor. Time is of the essence.”
“The Guild Master may wish to speak with you.”
“That is of no concern of mine. Unless he is interested in teleporting me inside the Waterside Prison…”
“You never know. This incident has been a great affront to the Guild. And I am confident that the Synod will take some sort of action, though teleportation within the walls of a prison is impossible as you know…”
“Relorcan?”
“Most certainly.”
Bander thought for a moment and then followed Silbra Dal inside. As soon as she announced herself to the clerk on duty in the reception area, she was taken into the bowels of the guildhall, while Bander was asked to wait on hard bench in the front hallway.
He eased his big frame into an attempt at a comfortable position and waited. He didn’t mind waiting in general, since he had always been a patient man, but today was different. He decided to give Silbra Dal a quarter hour before he left. That was the most he figured he could spare at
this point.
At roughly the twelve minute mark, a white-robed acolyte emerged from a back corridor and looked into the waiting area. His eyes met Bander’s.
“Captain Bander?”
Bander got up and moved towards the acolyte, a tall bald man. “Lead on.”
The man didn’t move. “Guild Master Lestralle asked me to convey our thanks for escorting Mistress Silbra Dal safely here. You have the Guild’s lasting gratitude.” He bowed formally. “Good day to you, sir.”
“That’s all well and good, mage, but Silbra Dal and I have unfinished business to attend to. Elsewhere.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible at this time.”
“What do you mean, ‘at this time?’” Bander was quickly losing his patience.
“I mean that the adept remains under censure. At the present time she is not leaving the guildhall.”
“I’d like to speak with her. Bring her out.”
“That is impossible, sir.”
“Then I’ll find her myself.” Bander pushed past the startled man and strode into the back corridor, which was richly appointed with tapestries and Myssian carpets. Doors led off in three different directions. Bander heard cries behind him.
“Stop!”
But that was the last thing Bander was going to do. He scanned the ground—noticing where the carpet was most worn—then opened the door there. He found himself in another hallway which wound its way towards the rear of the hall.
“This is your last chance!” The acolyte was preparing to cast a spell. Bander hoped it was a holding spell or slow spell and not something fatal. He didn’t look back; just turned a corner into another passage which ended in a set of elaborately carved double doors guarded by a tall battle mage with dark hair and a pointed beard which gave him a baleful appearance.
Behind Bander, the air crackled and rippled as the acolyte cast his spell. Fortunately, the spell—whatever it was—fizzled into nothingness. This surprised both the acolyte and the battle mage—who was readying a spell of his own. The fact of the matter was that Bander’s body had a natural resistance to attack spells. It wasn’t enough to make him impervious to magic by any means. But every time a spell was cast at him, there was a small, but notable, chance that the spell just wouldn’t work. This was a fairly rare attribute, but one that had immensely aided his career as Red Shoulder Captain of the Imperial Guard.
The battle mage was undeterred by the acolyte’s failure. He lifted his arms to cast his own attack spell. But before he could complete the spell, Bander’s elbow caught the mage under his chin, lifted his body a hand’s length off the floor, and slammed him into the double doors, which burst open into the room. As the man’s body flopped on to the ground, Bander was reminded of a saying he used while training his guardsmen: “A battle mage is still a mage.” He grimaced and looked around the chamber. The circular room was obviously the Guild Master’s office. It smelled of incense and there were tapestries, ornate bookshelves, divans, and a large ironwood desk behind which an older man in white robes—presumably the Guild Master—observed the intrusion without emotion.
“Enough!” the old man yelled in a powerful voice, which stopped Bander.
But the Guild Master wasn’t speaking to him. The old man commanded the acolyte to remove the unconscious battle mage and leave the room. Then he motioned Bander to sit. “You embarrassed Raggur Nil…”
“Who?”
“My battle mage…”
“Please convey my apologies when he wakes up.” Bander smiled slightly.
“I wouldn’t make light of the affront, Captain. Raggur Nil allowed you to surprise him. He won’t make that mistake again.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I think it is too late for that.”
“Where is Silbra Dal?”
“She has been recalled to Rundlun for an inquisition into the matter in Waterside.”
“When will she return? Tomorrow?”
The Guild Master sighed and sat down across from Bander. Bander noticed that the man had a large hook nose with a prominent scar running under one eye. “Not that it is any business of yours, but she departs in the morn—by horse. The Grand Guild Master is not especially eager to see the adept and I believe the long journey will give her time to reflect upon the embarrassment she has caused the Guild.”
“Embarrassment? For what? Not getting herself killed? Saving my life?” Bander suppressed the urge to spit. “This is absurd. Do you even know what transpired in Waterside?”
“We know enough. And we shall know more when our own investigation is complete.”
“There is a conspiracy against the Guild. Two of your members were murdered, another almost—”
The mage cut him off. “You are welcome to join Silbra Dal in Rundlun to plead your case directly, Captain. It is no concern of mine.”
“I’ve had enough of playing nursemaid.”
“Then I believe our business has been concluded.” The Guild Master rose.
So did Bander. He leaned in close and spoke quietly. “I want to see Silbra Dal.”
“Really, Captain? You threaten me?”
“Battle mage… Guild Master… what’s the difference?” Bander growled. “You’re all still flesh and blood.”
The Guild Master met his eyes with a hard look and Bander prepared for the worst. He had never taken on a Guild Master before. He figured if it came down to it, he might get one good blow in. That might be enough…
But then the old man’s face broke into a smile and he clapped Bander on the back. “You do have a way about you, Captain. I shall give you that. Quite persistent. Very well. Return in one hour. The adept will have completed her meditations. You may say your goodbyes then.”
