The Sable City

by M. Edward McNally

  *

  Phin was alone in the room when he awoke, the other fellows having gone off to somewhere. He washed up down the hall and dressed in his least-dirty plain clothes, for wearing the robes of a Circle Wizard here was probably not a good idea. Before he went downstairs to look for the others, his mind turned to other matters. Phin sat on the floor by his bunk and pulled out the leather satchel he had stowed beneath it.

  The book was inside, which still contained one teleport spell, but it was not on Phin’s mind at the moment. Instead he felt along the side of the leathery volume until his fingers touched the spiral shaft of the wand Phin now thought of as the Scepter of Kanderamath. He drew it from the satchel and sat looking at it for several minutes before there was a knock on his door. Phin jerked, startled, and crammed the wand back into the satchel.

  “Hello?” the Duchess Claudja’s voice called through the door. “Is anyone in there?”

  Phin climbed to his feet but instead of putting the satchel away he slung it over his shoulder. He hurried to the door and opened it, and the Duchess smiled up at him.

  “I thought you had all gone,” she said. “Where is everyone?”

  “I just woke up, and was going to look myself. My guess is the common room. Are you hungry…your Grace?”

  Claudja smiled again, and slipped an arm through Phin’s.

  “Famished. And if you please, do dispense with the title. It just seems silly after all that we have been through. Does it not, Phin?”

  “As you wish, Claudja,” he said, and the two walked arm in arm to the stairs and down, Phin hardly even thinking about the Scepter in his satchel.

  The others, minus Nesha-tari and Deskata, were grouped around a table and laughing, probably at something Zeb had said. Tilda saw them coming first and leaped to her feet to hurry toward them, beaming a smile. Claudja shook loose from Phin’s arm and hugged the Miilarkian fondly.

  “I ordered you eggs,” Tilda said. “Is that all right?”

  “Nine Gods, yes,” Claudja said. “Eggs and all the chickens that laid them.”

  Tilda turned to Phin, and to his surprise she hugged him as well.

  “You saved all of us, Phin,” she said, stepping back and smiling at him. “That’s why I’ve decided not to kick you in the belly for knocking me out with a sleep spell.”

  “Obliged,” Phin said.

  “Duchess Perforce,” Heggenauer said solemnly, standing up next to his chair. He bowed from the waist.

  “Really?” Claudja asked. “I have to curtsy in these trousers?”

  “Not necessary, your Grace. I only wish to say that I have arranged for you to meet with the Codian Grand Duke of Doon, as you wished. He shall await your convenience in the First Fort on the old Pirate Cove, anytime after the noon hour.”

  “Heggenauer, thank you,” Claudja said with such deep earnestness that Phin wished he had gotten up early and arranged such a meeting himself, not that he had any idea of how he would have done so.

  “What’s all that about?” Zeb asked, and Tilda gave him a look. He shrugged. “What? It’s a secret?”

  Claudja looked around at the others, and seemed to reach a decision. She took a breath.

  “I have come to the Empire on behalf of my father, Duke Cyril Perforce of Chengdea. The Emperor must be informed posthaste that our Duchy, and all the prominent citizens therein, are prepared to make formal acceptance of the Code of Beoshore. We petition his Imperial Majesty for assistance in our time of travail.”

  Everyone stared, Phin and Heggenauer even more stunned than the others as they were both Codians born.

  “You wish help against Ayzantium, your Grace?” Heggenauer asked.

  “And against the Kingdom of Daul,” Claudja said. “This news will anger the King on the River Throne greatly when it is known, which is why I traveled in secret. Or rather, why I tried to do so.”

  The Duchess looked around at everyone again, and reached out to squeeze Phin and Tilda’s hands.

  “I am telling all of you this now, only so that you may know how profoundly I mean my thanks. For getting me this far.”

  “I so should have charged you more,” Tilda said, and Claudja grinned at her.

  “I would have gone much higher, were you a better barterer.”

  The two of them laughed and hugged again, and cheers went up from the table as the doors behind the bar were pushed open by people bringing food from the kitchen, platters of eggs and great bowls of thick Soutermese sausage, spiced with Agintan pepper and wild chives. The party ate, together, and for an hour the thoughts of what came next for each of them were held at bay. It seemed that whatever was to come, it surely must be better than what had gone before.