“It would be better if it were one trained for cavalry,” Hobart offered. “They aren’t skittish at all in battle.”
“I could let you use one of mine for the time being,” Ortis offered. “They’re stable enough for shooting arrows, and I can ride Max until we reach Hellsbreath.”
“Third,” Angus said. “We stay in Hellsbreath long enough for me to learn more about the wand and to study Teffles’ spells.”
“How long do you think that will take?” Hobart asked. “Our funds at the moment are somewhat limited.”
“I can’t say,” Angus replied. “A minimum of at least two or three weeks. Probably longer.”
“Well,” Hobart hedged. “We can’t promise that long, but we’ll do our best.”
“I can pay my own way,” Angus said. “But I must insist on this. Magic is a complicated affair, and it takes a great deal of concentration to learn it. I can’t do that effectively while we’re traveling, and firelight like this is inadequate for reading. Once I have an understanding of the wand, I’ll be able to use it more effectively. As for the spells, I will have to learn each one of them separately, and if they are more complicated than those of the typical First Order student, it will take a considerable amount of time. However, once I have learned them, I won’t have to study them so intently when I prime for them.”
“We’ll consider it,” Hobart said. “Go on.”
“Fourth,” Angus said. “I would like us to go into The Tween.”
“We were planning to,” Hobart said. “But why do you want to go there?”
“That symbol on my map,” Angus said. “You saw it, Ortis. The teardrop superimposed on a pyramid. I want to investigate it.”
“What?” Giorge asked, perking up.
“I want to find out what’s there,” Angus said. “It was one of the only things marked on the original map; it had to have been important.
“No, no,” Giorge said. “The symbol. You said it was a teardrop superimposed on a pyramid, right?”
“Yes,” Angus said. “Why?”
“Show it to me,” Giorge said, moving closer to Angus.
“Does it sound familiar?” Ortis asked.
“I need to see it, first,” Giorge said. “But if it’s what I think it is, we’ll agree to everything.”
“What do you think it is?” Angus asked, reluctantly removing his backpack and taking out the map. He unrolled it until the symbol was visible and held it near the fire for Giorge to see.
Giorge studied it for several seconds, his breathing shallow and rapid. Finally, he nodded and said, “It might be.”
“Might be what?” Hobart demanded.
Giorge turned to Angus and watched him replace his map. “Are there any more conditions?”
“Other than you answering Hobart’s question?”
“I can’t answer that yet,” Giorge said. “I need to do some research in Hellsbreath, first.”
“What do you think it is?” Hobart asked.
Giorge shook his head. “I can’t say right now,” he said.
“All right, keep your secret,” Hobart said. “We’ll find out for ourselves.”
“No,” Giorge said. “You can’t look into it. Trust me on this; if you start asking around about it, you’ll get far too much attention. Let me handle it. I know where to look and whom to ask.”
Hobart shook his head and turned back to Angus. “All right, Angus, what else do you want?”
“Fifth,” Angus said, “After I cast spells, I will need a full night’s uninterrupted sleep to rejuvenate my energies. I will also need time the following morning to study my spells. Depending upon which spells were cast, it may range from half an hour to as much as three—possibly longer. Without that time for study, I won’t be able to prepare myself for casting those spells again.”
“Ribaldo did something of that sort,” Hobart said. “We know what to do.”
“If you don’t cast spells,” Ortis asked, “will you stand guard as needed?”
“Of course,” Angus said. “But I prefer the first or last shift.”
“Anything else?” Hobart asked.
“One last thing,” Angus said, turning toward Ortis. “When I run, I always go left.”
Giorge pretended to stifle a chuckle as Ortis nodded and said, “Good to know.”
“All right, Angus, they seem reasonable enough,” Hobart said. “We will consider your terms while we’re in Hellsbreath. A decision can wait until then. In the meantime, let’s get some rest. We’ll be riding hard tomorrow on little enough sleep as it is.”
4
It was dark.
A light drizzle was falling.
Angus huddled inside the folds of his robe, his back against the rough bark of a pine tree.
A thick fog drenched in moisture had gathered around them not long after they had retired, leaving behind a thin film of wetness. Then the drizzle had set in.
The weather fit his mood: dark and foggy, like the dreary tunnel consuming his thoughts.
Something was bothering him. What was it? He couldn’t quite place it, and he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep until he worked through the problem.
At least his robe was dry, and so was he. It shed water like it had been soaked in oil.
His backpack was not. If enough of the drizzle accumulated on its surface and beaded together, it might curl up inside the flap. But the backpack was made from water-resistant leather, and as long as it remained closed its contents should remain dry. There was little he could do about it, anyway.
The only shelter was the oxcart, and the family who owned it was using it. The pine tree offered little protection from the clingy fog; but at least near the bole, most of the moisture that condensed on its needles missed him when the light breeze shook the tiny droplets loose. But the weather wasn’t what was bothering him. It was something else.
His scrolls? There was no point in securing them in the compartments hidden in his robes now; they would just get wet in the transfer. But he would to do it at the next opportunity, at least with the ones he could cast. It would take time to train himself to reach for them if he needed one in a hurry, though; maybe it would be better to leave them in his pack unless it rains? No, the scrolls weren’t it either.
His companions? Hobart was snoring. One of Ortis was on guard, and the other two were nestled in close to the fire. Giorge was wrapped in a wet blanket next to them. Him? On the surface, they seemed friendly enough, but what about Teffles? Had it been an accident? Friendly fire? Was he shot on purpose? Hobart didn’t seem too upset by Teffles’ death, but he was a battle-hardened soldier and hadn’t known him very long. Ortis didn’t appear ruffled by it, either. Was the Banner of the Wounded Hand a disreputable group, one of the bands of brigands Hobart had mentioned? Was it wise to join them without finding out more about their reputation? What would he learn of them in Hellsbreath? The terms were reasonable enough, but was he ready for a two year commitment? Did he want to travel with them for that long without knowing more about them?
Yes, that was part of what troubled him, but it wasn’t the real issue. It was one he could set aside to deal with at an appropriate time, once he had learned more about them. Still, it would be wise to be vigilant, and losing a bit of sleep would not matter much in the long run. But there was something else, something more important that he was overlooking….
Was it Teffles’ wand? Wands were precious, and he was eager to discover what it could do. But it would have to wait, and he was a patient man. If nothing else, Voltari had taught him how to delay gratification until the right moment, and he would do just that. But how was he going to discover its power? Could he discover its power? The magic was a tightly woven pattern; it would be difficult to separate it into the individual threads and knots. All long-lasting spells were that way; they had to be. If they weren’t tightly bound, the natural fluctuations of the strands’ power would let them wriggle free. But the tightness and complexity of the knots made it difficult t
o identify the individual threads and how they had been knotted together. As for the sequence of the knots….
He needed time and solitude, but he was confident he could do it eventually. The spell contained within the wand was unfamiliar; the majority of the threads on the surface had been a very pale, almost translucent shade of blue—sky magic. That meant the spell was one he was unlikely to know. He had studied the generalities of sky magic—as he had with all of the different types of magical energy—but only superficially; his emphases were on flame and earth. He knew their subtleties quite well. But sky magic? Would he even be able to work through it on his own? Maybe Teffles’ book would help, but he doubted it; Teffles did not seem to be the type of wizard who would have the ability to create a wand. If he had been, a wolf pack never would have challenged him. At least triggering the spell contained within the wand would be easy enough to do. All that was necessary was to release the first three knots in the proper sequence….
No, the wand wasn’t the problem; it was an opportunity, one he was very much looking forward to pursuing.
Hellsbreath? He could find work there instead of joining their banner, but that would mean he would have to return the wand and Teffles’ book. Unless they sold them to him. Did he have enough treasure for that? What would he do in Hellsbreath? Voltari had sent him there for a reason, and he trusted his master’s judgment. Perhaps it would be better to follow Voltari’s guidance than to join a banner? Unless his master had expected him to find a banner to join. What would they pay a wizard to do? Would it be more than he could gain from being a member of Hobart’s banner? Probably; they had to work for a caravan last year….
I should be sleeping, Angus thought letting his mind wander. Why aren’t I?
The symbol on the map? Why had he been so adamant about investigating it? Simple curiosity? Something else? Had he forgotten something Voltari had told him? Something important? It didn’t feel like it, but…. Why had Giorge been so interested in it? Why didn’t he tell them—his companions, not Angus—what he thought the symbol represented? Why was he so secretive, so reluctant? What could he be hiding? Would he reveal his information to them? Would he tell Angus what it was even if he decided not to join their banner? Why was it too dangerous for him to investigate it on his own?
No, that wasn’t it, either. If they went into The Tween to find out what was at that symbol, Giorge would tell them what he knew. Angus would make sure of it. No, his problem didn’t involve Giorge at all. It was Ortis.
Ortis? He claimed to be a triad. Three in one and one in three. Each one connected to the other. He was unusual, certainly, even strange. And those eyes! They were more catlike than—
“They say you can see it in their eyes when you look at them.”
That’s what Billigan had said about the plains folk, the people King Urm had conquered when he expanded his kingdom. That’s it! Is Ortis descended from one of those survivors? What was it Ortis had said?
“My people scattered centuries ago. Most of us are north of the Death Swamps.”
The Death Swamps.
That was where the fishmen live.
How did he get through them? Hobart said the fishmen were vicious, hadn’t he?
Angus smiled. He had finally found what troubled him, and now he could sleep. He could decide what to do about the insight tomorrow. But he wouldn’t confront Ortis—not right away, at least. The connection was still too tenuous. He needed more information. They’d have a library in Hellsbreath, possibly several. There were wizards there….
As his mind settled and he felt sleep approaching, one last thought intruded upon him: If I have time….
5
“I would have liked to have gotten to Hellsbreath last night,” Hobart grumbled as they worked their way around the edge of the last mountain. “The lift is always busier in the evenings.”
“No help for it,” Ortis said. “The rain made the cobblestones too slippery for a hard ride. Besides, it gave us time to take a closer look at that map when the sun came out.”
“I know,” Hobart said. “I just hate waiting in line, that’s all.”
“Is there a wall and gate, like in Wyrmwood?” Angus asked.
“Not exactly,” Hobart said. “But you’ll be able to see it soon enough.”
“How long are we staying?” Angus asked.
Hobart set his jaw and said, “You said you can pay your own fare, right?”
“Yes,” Angus said.
“For how long?”
Angus shrugged, “How much does it cost?”
“Depends on where you stay,” Hobart said. “I’ll be staying at Hedreth’s. He’s an old veteran and gives a discount to Banner Holders. Last time I was here, a week was three silver for the room and another three for food and a reasonable amount of drink. It costs more if you’re thirsty.”
“How much is the exchange rate for gold?” Angus asked.
“Gold?” Giorge repeated, sitting up straighter in his saddle. “Twelve to one for silver, usually. It depends upon the coin. Some are worth more because they have more gold in them; others are worth less. You can tell by the stamp on it, usually. That and the weight.”
Angus reached into his pouch and took out one of the gold coins. He held it up between his fingers; it was about an inch and a half in diameter, thick, and heavy. On one side was a crown, and the other had the crisp profile of a man on it. “What about this one?” he asked, tossing it to Giorge.
Giorge caught it easily, glanced at the images and whistled. “You’ll make more if you sell it to a collector,” he said. “I know a few….”
“Why?” Hobart asked.
“Take a look,” Giorge said, nudging his horse forward until he was next to him. Angus hurried to match their pace so he could listen to Giorge. “The crown on this side is on all of the coins of Tyr; there’s nothing unusual about that. The profile on the other side is what matters. It shows the image of the king at the time of its minting. This is King Urm, and the quality of the coin is amazing. It’s as if it had been stamped yesterday.”
“Counterfeit?” Hobart asked.
“No,” he said. “You can tell by the weight and balance. They don’t make coins like this anymore. The metal in this was mined by the dwarves.”
“Are you saying it’s a thousand years old?” Angus asked.
Giorge nodded. “About that, yes. There must not be very many of these left, either. Especially in this condition. Whenever there is a new king, he tends to collect up his predecessors’ coins, melt them down, and forge coins with his own image. A collector would pay a fortune for this.”
“Interesting,” Angus said. “How much is a fortune?”
Giorge frowned, thought for a moment, and then said, “I’d have to ask my contacts. But I wouldn’t be surprised if someone would pay upwards of a thousand gold coins for this one. Maybe more.”
“Really?” Angus said as he did a quick calculation. “In that case, I have more than enough for a lifetime in Hedreth’s. Even without the garnets.”
“Garnets?” Giorge repeated, leaning closer to him. “You have garnets, too?”
“A few,” Angus said.
“I can get you a fair price if you want to sell them,” Giorge said, “The coins, too.”
Angus held out his hand and waited for Giorge to give him back his coin, then moved his horse a bit further away from him. “I think I’ll hold on to them for now,” he said. “I have enough silver for a few weeks’ stay. You can look into it if you’d like, though.”
“Sure,” Giorge said. “And I’ll charge you a very reasonable brokers’ fee, too.”
“Not if he joins the banner,” Hobart said. “You know the rules.”
“He hasn’t joined us yet,” Giorge reminded him, eyeing Angus more closely, as if he were trying to see the coins and gems through his robe.
“Remember Wyrmwood,” Angus half-whispered.
Giorge blinked and grinned. “I was just thinking,” he protested. “It
wasn’t like I was going to do anything.”
“Make sure you don’t,” Hobart said. “It would be impolite, considering the circumstances.”
“Of course, if you have that many of those gold coins, we could just sell you the wand and book. I’m sure we could make an equitable arrangement….”
“Perhaps,” Angus said. Twelve coins. Offer five. Bargain to nine? “I could part with five of them, I suppose.”
“Five?” Giorge sputtered. “The wand alone is worth twice that!”
“Really?” Angus said. “We don’t even know what it does. What if it only produces flowers from empty air? If it does that, it wouldn’t even be worth one of those coins. I’m taking a considerable risk, here.”
“You can make flowers out of air?” Hobart asked, his eyebrows trying to catch his receding hairline. “I’d like to see that.”
“No,” Angus said, shaking his head. “I was just pointing out that the wand might not do much. Most wands are more powerful than that, but every now and then, a wizard will make a wand for practice that is basically worthless.”
“The book—” Giorge began.
“—may be full of First Order spells,” Angus finished. “If it is, it isn’t worth much to me. I mastered those long ago.” At least for flame and earth….
“I think we can get a fair price for it in Hellsbreath,” Hobart countered. “Even if you can’t find a use for it, there are bound to be wizards there who can.”
Angus nodded, “True,” he admitted. “But I’d rather wait until I’ve looked at it before I change my offer.”
“How about this,” Giorge said. “We trade you the wand and book for all the gold coins you have.”
“Really?” Angus chuckled. “And what would I live on if I did that.”
“The garnets, of course,” Giorge said. “You have more than one, don’t you?”
Angus nodded.
“How many gold coins do you have?” Hobart asked.
“More than I’m willing to pay for the wand and book,” Angus answered.
“Twenty?” Giorge asked. “I think that’s a reasonable price for that wand and book. Don’t you Hobart?”
The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) Page 13
