“What is he talking about?” Atule asked the others. “Which of the buildings is our destination, and why are we here?”
“Our destination is not a building,” Kalmar replied sympathetically. “We are here to aid the poor and ill as best we can. We will live on the street until we can find someplace better.”
“You can’t be serious?” balked Atule as he looked down at the filth.
“Oh,” said Crystil, “perhaps we can all join together and create a great tower for Master Atule? That way he will not have to get dirty.”
Valera raised a hand to her mouth to hide her giggling. Kalmar glanced from Crystil to Atule and back with furrows of confusion marring his brow. Eulena merely raised an eyebrow and waited to see what Atule’s reaction would be. Zynor walked between Atule and Crystil. He turned towards the witch with a smile on his lips.
“If you could teach me how to make one of those brooms you made in Valdo, I would be happy to help you get started.”
Crystil had been glaring at Atule, but Zynor’s intervention forced her to focus on him. She sighed and nodded at Zynor’s suggestion. She turned and began gathering bits of straw. Atule turned to Kalmar for answers.
“What is really expected of us?”
“We are here to heal the people,” answered the Koroccan mage, “and feed the poor if we are able. We did something similar in Valdo a while ago. We managed to scrape up enough gold to rent a building and make an infirmary and kitchen out of it, but we had to leave suddenly. All I managed to salvage from our operations there are some potions and ingredients to make a few more. We have no gold left to rent a building.”
“You rented a building to give away potions?” frowned Atule. “That is not an operation that is self-sustaining. Could you not have charged a token payment at least?”
“We charged exorbitant prices to the wealthy,” explained Kalmar. “We used that money to buy food for the poor. It worked rather well, but I should have put some gold aside to get started over. I don’t suppose you have any gold to spare?”
“A few coins only,” replied Atule. “I was not aware that I would be required to purchase anything other than a meal or two. I should have been warned.”
“A few coins will have to do,” Eulena said as she joined the conversation. “Are you adept at healing?”
“It has been ages since I had a need to use the healing arts,” answered Atule. “I preferred cultivating plants to provide restoratives to the people of Atule’s Maze. That made them more self-sufficient.”
“I would be interested in learning about such restoratives,” Eulena replied with interest. “Would you share your knowledge with me?”
Atule looked into the elf’s eyes and nodded. “Your people would probably have great need for such plants, but they may not grow well in the Elfwoods. It is the perpetual moistness of the Maze that allows them to flourish.”
“About the gold?” interrupted Kalmar. “If you would give me what you have, I would like to get started on making a shop to create potions.”
“I will not give up my gold,” Atule replied as he stared into Kalmar’s eyes to see what the reaction would be.
Kalmar frowned deeply, but he nodded with acceptance. “Very well. The gold is yours to do with as you please. I will try to sell some potions to get enough for more ingredients.”
“You give up easily,” chuckled Atule. “I expected some bickering at least.”
“I have known the attachment to gold in my own life,” Kalmar replied. “I can understand your hesitancy to be without some.”
“Do you really think our efforts in this slum are going to matter?” asked Atule.
“I do,” Kalmar replied confidently. “We will help the sick and dying as best we can. We will feed the hungry, although we will not fill their bellies, but we will also help ourselves.”
“Help ourselves?”
“Man can become too self-centered,” stated Kalmar. “It is only through the sacrifice of helping others that man truly fulfills himself.”
“Interesting words for a man whose years seem to be rather few in number.”
“I am young,” conceded Kalmar, “but I guess that I was more self-centered than most. Gold was my god, and I worshipped it, yet I never truly knew the feeling of joy, no matter how much wealth I amassed. Helping the poor and infirm in Valdo taught me a great deal about myself. I began to finally understand what joy really is. I am sure that I am not alone with these feelings,” he added with a look at Eulena.
“I think your words were well spoken, Kalmar,” smiled the elven healer, “but I suspect that Atule has been around for some time. Certainly Atule’s Maze has existed for centuries.”
“You are perceptive,” Atule smiled at Eulena. He turned to Kalmar and slid a ring off his finger. He held it out for Kalmar to take. “I think you will find that the diamond in that ring is worth more than you will need to get your infirmary started. Sell the gem, but retain the ring. It holds sentimental value for me.”
Kalmar’s eyes widened in appreciation. He was fairly familiar with the value of gems, and the diamond would certainly bring much more than enough for what he had in mind. He bowed in gratitude and then turned and ran off. Atule turned and saw Crystil, Valera, and Zynor sweeping the street with improvised brooms.
“Is this something that we must do manually?” he asked Eulena.
“Fakir likes to keep a low profile,” answered the elf, “especially in the city. The Federation probably won’t even bother to investigate healing spells, but anything else could bring unwanted troubles our way.”
“Fakir Aziz is wise to avoid contact with the Federation black-cloaks,” Atule stated with a mischievous smile as he gazed at the sky, “but there are some spells that are not taught in the Black Citadel. Warn the others of impending rain.”
Eulena ran to warn the others while Atule raised one arm high overhead. The cloud over the street suddenly turned black with moisture, and a gentle rain began to fall upon the slum. While the others huddled in doorways to watch, the tempo of the rain steadily increased until torrents of rain fell from the sky. Through the downpour, Eulena could clearly see the raindrops outlining the shield that Atule held over himself. The rain quickly accumulated in the street, and Zynor stepped out into it. Raising his arms on either side of him and holding them level with the street, the Zaroccan mage cast spells to move the waters away from him. Along with the water’s retreat, the debris and filth were swept away, leaving the street clean and sparkling.
* * * *
Garth and Kalina arrived in Farmin through the south gate and proceeded directly to the Bluff House Inn. They checked into their room and then had a leisurely evening meal in the common room.
“We are too late to catch any of the sermons at the temple today,” Kalina said softly. “What do you plan to do?”
“I plan to check in with Juggler,” answered Garth. “He may already know that answer to our query. I will try not to be too late.”
“I am going with you,” declared Kalina. “There is no reason for us to separate.”
Garth merely nodded. Together they rose and walked to the stables. Once mounted on their unicorns, the Knights of Alcea rode through the city streets and into the area of the slums. Garth checked out several of the approaches to Juggler’s lair that he had used on previous occasions, but each of them had been dismantled. He sighed deeply as they rode through the dark city streets.
We are drawing attention, announced Kymia. There are people on the rooftops following our progress.
Garth nodded and patted the unicorn in response. He had already felt the eyes upon him, but he had not actually detected their location. He casually glanced up and saw a man standing tall on the rooftop. When the man saw Garth looking up, he pointed to an alley coming up on Garth’s left. Garth nodded exaggeratedly.
“The thieves want us to turn left into the alley,” Garth announced quietly. “Be prepared to shield us just in case.”
Kalina n
odded silently. The Knights of Alcea turned into the narrow alley in single file. The alley bent sharply halfway to its dead end. As soon as they rounded the bend, six men stepped out of the darkness in front of them.
“Bacar,” smiled Garth. “How have you been?”
“Couldn’t be better,” grinned the warrior thief. “I trust the children arrived safely?”
“They did,” Garth replied warmly. “Thanks to you and the others.”
“It truly was a pleasure to help,” smiled Bacar. “What are you doing in this neighborhood?”
“Trying to find a way to speak with Juggler,” answered Garth. “I need to know if the priest in Farmin has been replaced, but I would also like to speak to Juggler and thank him for his help.”
“There is no priest in Farmin,” answered Bacar, “but there are some other strange magicians.”
“Black-cloaks?” asked Kalina.
“No.” Bacar shook his head. “These magicians have settled into the slums. We have not yet determined what trouble they represent.”
“Can you lead us to them?” asked Kalina. “They may be friends of ours.”
Garth looked questioningly at his wife. “Egam?”
“It is possible,” nodded Kalina. “They settled into the slums in Valdo before the breakout. If they were heading north, doing the same in Farmin would make sense.”
“Are these people dangerous to us?” asked Bacar.
“Not if they are who we think they are,” answered Garth. “In fact, they would be a blessing to the poor people of Farmin. They are healers.”
“Leave your horses here,” instructed Bacar. “I can get you to the mages quicker through the buildings than along the streets. My men will watch over your horses.”
“Our horses will be fine left alone,” stated Kalina. “Lead the way.”
Bacar raised an eyebrow, but he nodded and dismissed his men. He then led the way into one of the shops in the alley. After several minutes of cutting through buildings and across alleys, they emerged in a storefront on a wide street. Bacar cracked the door open and peered out. He pulled back from the door and waved Garth forward to take his place. Garth peeked out of the door and saw the group of mages around a fire in the middle of the street. He scanned the group until he saw Fakir Aziz.
“It is Fakir and his people,” Garth said. “Let’s go greet them.”
Garth opened the door wider and stepped into the street. Kalina and Bacar followed. Fakir Aziz must have felt them coming, because he turned away from the fire and stared at them as they approached. The other mages also turned and watched curiously.
“Garth and Kalina,” Fakir smiled broadly. “I do not believe I have met your friend before.”
“His name is Bacar,” Garth said as he got close to the Mage. “He lives here in Farmin.”
Fakir Aziz stared into the eyes of the warrior thief for several long moments before nodding in greeting. He then walked over to Kalina and embraced her.
“Come and enjoy the warmth of the fire.”
Kalina smiled warmly and followed her mentor towards the fire. Garth started to follow, Bacar tugged on his sleeve. Garth turned to face Bacar with a questioning look.
“Who is that man?” asked Bacar. “I felt as if he were looking inside my head. It was a rather creepy feeling.”
“He is an old and dear friend,” answered Garth. “Any more than that, you will have to learn on your own.”
“You tell me little,” frowned the thief.
Garth sighed and nodded. He did not feel comfortable explaining who Fakir Aziz was, but he understood Bacar’s concern.
“Fakir Aziz is a righteous man. His presence here will not harm you. In fact, I think you will find his presence beneficial to the poor people of the slums. In Valdo, they cured the sick and healed the ill. They fed the poor as best as they were able with the funds they had available. If they offer to do the same here in Farmin, aid them in any way that you can.”
Bacar nodded and Garth walked towards the fire. The thief hesitantly followed. Fakir and Kalina were already seated among the others. The Mage offered no introductions, but Kalina introduced the three new arrivals voluntarily. The mages hesitantly responded with their names, but offered nothing more. It was an awkward meeting with neither side too anxious to expand upon their reasons for being in Farmin. Eventually, Bacar broke the ice.
“I am told that you are all healers. It is a blessing that you bring your talents to Farmin. There are many here who need your touch.”
“You live here?” asked Atule as he examined the thief’s clothing. “You do not appear to be especially destitute.”
“I do live here,” replied the thief, “but I am better off than most of these people. I have some skills that earn me a few coins in the wealthier parts of the city. I do what I can for those stuck here, but I fear it is too little. Where will you be setting up the infirmary?”
“Anywhere we can find a building,” answered Kalmar. “You do not happen to know of one that we could use for a while, do you?”
“Cheaply,” Valera added quickly.
“I will get you a building for free,” offered Bacar. “Tell me which one you want.”
“For free?” brightened Kalmar. “Any building will do for free.”
“How can you offer what you do not have?” Atule asked suspiciously.
“You are offering to heal our ill,” answered Bacar. “I will get you whatever you need to make that happen. If the building you want is not available, it will be soon.”
The mages frowned in confusion.
“There is a group of thieves in Farmin,” explained Garth. “While many look down upon the thieves, the people of the slums do not. It is the thieves that try to look out for the poor people. I think what Bacar is saying, is that he will notify the thieves of what you desire. He is certain that they will requisition whatever you need.”
“That is an offer that we cannot accept,” stated Kalmar. “If someone is willing to lend us his building, we would be most grateful, but I would not want the owner threatened to comply with our needs. That is not acceptable.”
“No one will be threatened,” promised Bacar. “Most of these buildings are abandoned. King Harowin raised the taxes so high that most businesses in this area of the city could no longer survive. The owners walked away from them. The worst that can happen if you are found doing business in one of them is that the tax collector will come around with his hand out. He cannot force you to pay taxes on a building that is not yours, but he can chase you off the premises. If that happens, the people will gladly move you to a different location, and we have hundreds to choose from. Even the tax collector will give up after you have moved a couple of times.”
“Interesting,” mused Eulena.
Fakir Aziz suddenly stood up. He walked off into the darkness and halted a hundred paces away from the fire. He stood staring off to the east. Kalina rose with a worried frown. She hurried off after the Mage. Garth rose and followed Kalina, leaving Bacar and the mages to iron out the problems of the infirmary.
“What is it, Egam?” Kalina asked worriedly.
Fakir Aziz frowned deeply and turned towards Kalina. He suddenly smiled.
“No one has called me that in many years. I have missed you, daughter.”
“And I have missed you, Master,” Kalina smiled broadly. “What did you sense out there?”
“A great disturbance,” sighed the Mage, as he envisioned the lower half of Alutar being moved. “It is time for the Warrior King to prepare for war.”
“We have heard that the armies of the Federation will attack within two months,” stated Garth. “I am afraid that Alcea is ill prepared.”
“There are more than mere armies heading for the Warrior King,” the Mage declared. “The Claws of Alutar will strike soon.”
“Claws of Alutar?” echoed Kalina.
“Four very special types of demonkin,” nodded the Mage. “One he has already defeated, but three more come. Eac
h will be more deadly than the last.”
“King Arik is aware of the demonkin,” noted Garth, “and I plan to eliminate the K’sans. Are there others to worry about?”
“Are there not enough?” scowled the Mage. “Each one of the demonkin is capable of defeating my heroes. Do not discount their worth.”
“I do not underestimate the demonkin,” retorted Garth. “I am just determined that they die along with the soldiers of the Federation.”
Fakir’s eyebrows rose as if he had just remembered a thought and that remembrance was surprising.
“Be cautious, Alex,” warned the Mage. “Alutar has a need for tears. The task is more difficult than merely defeating the forces of evil. If you totally destroy the Federation armies, you will ensure Alutar’s success. Kill those you must for Alcea to survive, but spare the rest.”
“Spare the rest?” balked Garth. “You can’t be serious? With the numbers of soldiers arrayed against us, we will be lucky to survive, and now you want us to save a portion of the enemy? Tell me that you are joking.”
The Mage’s glare was all the answer Garth needed. There was not a hint of humor in Fakir’s face, and Garth sighed heavily.
“How many must we save?” asked Kalina.
“War is confusion,” sighed the Mage. “I cannot see how many will die or live, but Alutar seeks the tears of a million. Can you tell me how many Alceans will die during the coming war? How many orphans and widows will lend their tears to Alutar’s cause?”
“I have no answers,” conceded Garth.
“Then neither can I tell you how many of the Federation must live. Rework your strategies, Alex. Save those you can.”
“That is impossible with only two months before they invade,” replied Garth. “We are short on time as it is.”
“We need more time,” begged Kalina. “Give us a few more months to work on this.”
“That is something that I cannot do,” replied the Mage. “I do not control the minds of the Federation. They will attack when they will.”
Heirs of the Enemy Page 15
