Angus laughed. “You wouldn’t know what a reasonable price for magic is, Giorge. Besides, it’s only worth what a wizard is willing to pay for it, and this wizard is willing to pay seven of those gold coins.”
“Seven?” Hobart mused. “Come now, Angus, it’s surely worth more than that, isn’t it?”
“It may be,” Angus admitted. “Or it may be worth far less. That’s the point, isn’t it? We don’t know its value, and we’re making assumptions based on ignorance. You’re assuming it is a powerful wand with a high value, and I am making a much more conservative estimate. Even so, I am willing to gamble by offering to pay a higher price than that conservative estimate.”
“Seven seems low to me,” Hobart said. “I know enough about things like that—magical things—to know a wizard has to spend a great deal of time and energy making them. Even simple ones have more value than the materials they are made from, and that wand is made from ivory. The value of that ivory, alone, is at least one of those gold coins, if not two.”
“Fifteen,” Giorge offered. “We’re taking a risk, too. What if it’s actually worth a great deal more than that?”
“I think I’m being generous,” Angus countered. “And ivory—even carved ivory like this wand—is not worth even one of those coins, and you know it. Besides, you would not even have known about this wand without me; you would have just given it away to the priests in the Temple of Muff. By rights, I shouldn’t even be making this offer at all; I should just keep the wand and charge you for its return.”
“We had the book,” Giorge corrected. “You didn’t find that.”
“Don’t forget the key,” Angus said. “But I’ll be fair. I’ll give you eight of those gold coins for the pair. That’s far more than you would have gotten without me.”
“Ten,” Giorge said. “That would be a reasonable compromise, would it not?”
“Perhaps,” Angus said, “but it would leave me uncomfortably short on funds.”
“The garnets—”
“I don’t know their value,” Angus said. “Also, I would rather hang onto them for the time being. They travel much easier than bags of coin. Still,” he considered. “If Giorge agrees to liquidate the last two coins for me—free of charge—I think I can spare ten.”
“You have twelve of them?” Giorge asked. “Where did you get them?”
“Does it matter?” Angus asked.
“It might,” Giorge said. “There aren’t very many of them left, and all the ones I know about are in collections. They might have been stolen.”
Angus frowned. Where had he gotten the coins? He couldn’t remember; they were in his clothes when he put them on. “I got them in Voltari’s Tower,” Angus said. At least that was true, but how they had gotten into Blackhaven was still a complete mystery.
“Were there any others?” Giorge asked.
“One,” Angus admitted.
“What happened to it?” Giorge asked.
“I spent it,” Angus said. “After I left Blackhaven, I wandered around a bit. My feet were infected, and I was feverish when I found Woodwort. I gave it to the innkeeper for a room just before I passed out.”
Giorge winced. “Costly room,” he said.
Angus nodded. “We should finalize the exchange now,” he said. “While there are no prying eyes.” He reined in his horse. Giorge and Hobart joined him. He reached into the pocket of his robe and brought out the pouch containing the gold coins and garnets. He took the five garnets out and showed them to Giorge. “What do you think these are worth?”
“Well,” Giorge said, moving them around with his finger. “I can probably get you three hundred gold coins for the largest one; it’s a good color. The other two large ones aren’t as high a quality and a bit off in color. Maybe two hundred or so. The two runts about fifty.”
“You’ve been carrying around a fortune, Angus,” Hobart said. “Why bother with adventuring at all?”
Angus shrugged. There was no reason to tell them that Voltari had kicked him out. “Magic isn’t cheap,” he said. “Just look at what that wand and book cost me….”
Giorge laughed, the pouch of gold coins disappearing somewhere on his person. “I’ll trade the coins for gems,” he said. “It will be easier to carry than several hundred pounds of gold. Also,” he turned to Hobart, “I will have to use part of this to find the information I need on that symbol. I’ll have to be discreet, and such discretion can have a hefty price.”
Hobart glared at him. “You know the rules,” he said. “If I have to hire a Truthseer, it comes out of your cut, regardless of whether or not you tell the truth.”
Giorge pouted and shook his head. “When will you learn to trust me?”
“I do trust you,” Hobart grinned. “I just don’t trust your twitchy fingers.” He winked at Angus. “He gave you back your garnets, didn’t he?”
Angus laughed and nodded. “I was watching.”
The Ortis who had gotten a significant distance ahead of them reined in his horse. As the Ortis a short distance behind them passed, he said, “The volcano is sputtering today. We’ll need to be careful.”
“Ash or lava?” Hobart asked, spurring his horse forward.
“Mostly lava,” Ortis said. “It looks like a mild eruption.”
“Better than a violent one,” Hobart said.
“The volcano’s erupting?” Angus said, spurring his own steed forward. “Aren’t they evacuating?”
“Why?” Hobart asked. “The city’s in no danger.”
“No danger? From a volcano?”
Hobart chuckled. “You’ll see for yourself in a minute.”
When they joined Ortis, it became clear to Angus why the city was in no danger—and why Voltari had sent him to Hellsbreath.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hobart said.
Angus stared. The road continued across a narrow valley and up the steep slope of another low mountain. The mountain had two summits, each of which ended in a volcanic crater. Nestled in between them was the city of Hellsbreath, but all Angus could see were its walls. They were high walls, nearly topping the volcanic ridge on either side, and spanning half the distance between them. The volcano to the west was erupting, lava bubbling out in several places near the top. A large pool of reddish orange rock, accented by a charcoal-black crust, flowed in toward the city, but it parted not far from the wall and tumbled down the slope, adding to the summit. The other summit was silent, save for wisps of smoke. Even at a distance, the crackling and popping of the eruption was easy to hear, and an ash cloud funneled eastward, over the city, where it hovered and accumulated on a large bowl-shaped structure. But there was no structure apparent; whatever it was, it was invisible.
“Why isn’t the ash falling on the city?” Angus asked.
“Wizards,” Hobart said. “They constructed a barrier over the city. You can’t see it, but it’s always there. When the volcano stops spewing that ash, they’ll tip the dome and collect it. It’s excellent fertilizer, and there’s a thriving industry around it.”
“They also have wizards tending to the volcanoes,” Ortis added. “They keep the eruptions under control. Instead of a sudden, explosive eruption, they have little ones like that one spaced over time. It keeps the volcanoes manageable.”
Angus nodded, drawing his attention to the magical energy around him. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to see the strands from such a distance, but the concentration of magical energy enveloping the city was like a distant beacon fire. He didn’t know the particulars of the spells involved—and there were no doubt dozens, if not hundreds—but he was sure he could learn them quickly enough. No doubt they would welcome a wizard with his particular talents, and pay handsomely. If there wasn’t already a surplus of them.
“We’ll need to cover our mouths,” Hobart continued. “And the horses’ noses. That ash is hot, and if too much gets in your lungs…” he shook his head. “There are better ways to die.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Angus asked.
“See that river?” Hobart said, pointing at the valley floor.
“It’s hard to miss,” Angus said.
Hobart scowled, shook his head, and continued. “There’s a little fellow down there who rents sheets. Jagra, I think his name is. When he sees someone coming—like us—he takes his bucket down to the river and brings enough water back to fill a trough he has set up by the road. He’s got a pile of thin white sheets that he dips in the trough and drapes over you and your horse. You can see through them and breathe through them, but the fabric is so finely woven that the ash can’t get through it. We’ll rent them, and when we get inside the dome’s cover, his wife Agata will be waiting. She has a similar setup—trough, clean sheets, a line for drying—but their sons have to haul water up from the bridge. At night, his brother does the same thing.”
“Won’t the horses protest?” Angus asked.
“Not at all,” Hobart said, patting his mare’s neck and smiling fondly. “They’re fine mounts, and it’s not their first time here. They’ll adjust quickly enough, and so will we.”
“All right,” Angus said.
“The sheets will also protect our gear,” Hobart continued. “The ash isn’t heavy enough to maintain its heat for long, but it isn’t unusual to have bits of lava mixed in with it. Keep your eyes open. It generally only smolders, but once in a while it will burn through one of the sheets. It looks like we’ll have to hurry, too. It’s falling pretty heavily.”
“Enough sightseeing,” Ortis said. “We should start down.”
They urged their horses into a steady walk as Angus said, “Those walls are pretty high.”
“Sixty feet high and forty feet thick,” Hobart said. “They protect the city and are the last defense against the lava. It sometimes reaches the walls despite the wizards, but it hasn’t posed any serious concerns in recent years.”
Angus shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted. “I don’t see a gate.”
“There isn’t one,” Hobart said. “It wouldn’t do to have any holes in the wall for lava to flow through.”
“How do we get in?”
“You can’t see it yet,” Hobart said, “but there’s a lift. It moves up and down at regular intervals, and can carry an entire mounted patrol—that’s a dozen men and horses—with plenty of room to spare. There’s another one on the other side. When the caravans come, they raise and lower all their goods in a matter of hours. Most of the time, they have to sell some of it in Hellsbreath on the way through. There’s a fee for each trip the lift makes,” he continued. “It’s a standard fee spread out among all of the passengers on the lift. If it’s a full load, it’s not at all expensive—half a silver for a man and horse—but if you want a special trip, it’s far more costly. On a day like this, we may have to wait a while before there are enough passengers to make a full load.”
“Tell him about The Rim,” Giorge said. “He’ll need to know about that.”
Hobart nodded, “The Rim encircles the city; it’s on top of the wall and runs along its entire length. The top of the wall is forty feet wide, and there’s a narrow street in the middle of it. There’s a bridge straight across the town for the caravans—don’t ask me what holds it up—but no one else can use it. The rest of us go around the rim if we want to go south. On either side of the street are inns, taverns, the marketplace—whatever a traveler might need. The garrison—four hundred men are on duty at all times—are bunkered in the short towers on the corners. They serve as lookouts and man the patrols, both on The Rim and the area around the city. Most of the patrols will have a wizard with them, in case they run into volcanism while outside the protection of the city’s dome and walls. As for the city proper, don’t worry about it. Most people never make it down inside the city unless they live there.”
“What about libraries?” Angus asked. “Are there any on The Rim?”
Hobart shrugged. “I’ve never heard of one,” he admitted, “but I never looked for one, either.”
“There aren’t,” Giorge said. “The wizards live inside the city, and that’s where the libraries are. There’s a Wizards’ School, too, if you’re interested.”
“I am,” Angus said. “It will be a good place to ask about work. I’ll have to talk with them before I decide to join your banner or not.”
“There,” Hobart said. “Do you see it? The lift is rising.”
Angus pointlessly leaned forward in his saddle and studied the wall as best he could. “The thing that looks like a spider crawling up the side of the wall?”
Hobart chuckled. “That’s our way up,” he said. “It’s a pulley and winch system that lifts visitors up and down. You stand on a platform and they winch you up. You can’t get into Hellsbreath any other way.”
If it weren’t for that dome, Angus thought, I could fly in. If I could fly, that is.
“Let’s ride a bit faster,” Giorge said. “I’d like to get there before the next lift goes back up. You know how it is during the day, especially when the volcano is belching out that crap.”
“Yes,” Hobart said, spurring his horse to a light trot. “And there aren’t very many travelers between us and the city.”
“Not many around it, either,” Giorge said. “It might be a long time before that lift drops back down.”
“All right, Angus,” he said, turning to Angus. “When we get there, keep your fingers clean.”
Angus tilted his head and half-smiled. “What do you mean by that?”
Hobart frowned. “I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said, “but Giorge got in a bit of trouble last time we were here. He climbed down to the city proper without permission. When they caught him, they put him in the dungeon and left him there until we were ready to leave. They don’t take kindly to trespassers, and even less so to thieves. Hellsbreath is mainly a military outpost, and they take their rules seriously.”
Angus nodded. “What rules should I know about?”
Hobart shrugged. “No killing, stealing, trespassing, vandalism, spitting from The Rim, littering….”
6
Just before reaching the lift area, Hobart pointed at a long, narrow, wooden wall with several rings evenly spaced along its length. Each ring had a red, blue, or black scarf tied to it. Hobart rode past several dozen red and blue scarves before coming to a stop before one with a black scarf. He dismounted, handed Angus the reins of his horse, and said, “Stay back.” Then he stepped up to the ring and reached for the scarf.
Giorge brought his horse up next to Angus and stopped, but Ortis rode past him to the next ring marked with a black scarf—about ten feet further—and dismounted.
Hobart’s clumsy oversized gauntleted fingers finally unraveled the knot in the scarf and he gripped the ring with his free hand and tugged. A ten-foot section of the wall slid easily outward, separating itself from the rest of the wooden wall. He took a few steps back, pulling the partition with him until a soft chime sounded. Then he let go of the ring and turned to Angus.
“It’s a stable,” he said. “You can tell which ones are empty by the scarf. A black one like this,” he shook it, “is open for use. The red ones stable the garrison’s horses, and the blue ones are for visitors. There are stables on The Rim if you want your horse with you, or if you’re traveling through the city and continuing south. But if we’re going into The Tween to check out that symbol, we may as well house them down here. It will reduce the price of the lift and make our wait a little longer, but it will be worth it.” He took the reins of his horse and led it around the opening. “Each one can hold four horses,” he said. “It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but the horses don’t seem to mind being confined like that.”
Giorge hopped off his horse and followed Hobart around the partition. A moment later, Angus shrugged and did the same, wincing from the short burst of pain in his legs as he landed. Behind the partition was a shallow enclave embedded in the city’s wall, just deep enough for a horse to be stabled. “They’ll feed them, br
ush them down, take them out for exercise—everything they do in other stables. We’ll put a deposit down now and pay the balance when we leave. If we stay much longer than two weeks, we’ll have to send down additional payment to make sure they’re here when we need them.”
“Don’t worry,” Giorge said. “It’s a reasonable rate. But we do need to have a sense of how long we’ll be here.”
“Back to that,” Angus sighed. “I still don’t know the answer. Let’s say three weeks for now, and if I need longer, I’ll send word.”
“Two weeks longer than I’d like,” Hobart grumbled, removing his saddlebags from his horse. “We don’t know how long it will take to find whatever is waiting for us at that symbol, if we can find it at all. It probably got buried in lava centuries ago. But if there is something there, we need to find it before winter sets in.”
“Isn’t winter still a few months away?” Angus asked.
Hobart shook his head and set the last saddlebag on the ground beside his horse. “Not in those mountains,” he said. “It can come early there.”
“It’s the altitude,” Giorge added, removing his own saddlebags. “The mountains west of here are the highest peaks in the region. There’s snow on top of most of them all year round. Hellsbreath Pass goes through them otherwise they would be almost completely impassible all year round.”
“I’ve seen the snowcaps,” Angus admitted as he reached for his backpack and strapped it over his shoulders. Then he turned to the saddlebags. “Do I need to remove all of these?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hobart said, moving toward him. “They’re our horses, and we’ll take care of them. If you decide to join us, we’ll walk you through what to do and fill you in on what is banner gear and what is not. For now, you’ll be our guest.”
“All right,” Angus said, moving back to give Hobart room to maneuver. “I can at least carry some of them over to the lift for you.”
Hobart nodded, adding the saddlebags to his pile. “When we’re ready, he said. He led Angus’s horse into one of the narrow stalls. The stable was surprisingly well-lit, considering that it was embedded in such an enclosed space, and there was a long corridor running along the back of the stalls. A cord hung down in the middle of their section of the stable, and Hobart pulled it. The soft chime sounded again.
The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) Page 14
