by Paul S. Kemp
The second lurched at Egil, hands extended, but Egil slammed his hammer into its head before it could get a hold on him. The blow knocked the head clean from the body and sent it flying against the wall. The headless body fell to its knees, then flat on the floor.
“What the fak are these things?” said the man who’d ambushed the first automaton. He looked up and Nix recognized the thin face and beard.
“Jyme!”
They hadn’t seen Jyme since they’d left him behind in the Afirion desert, after defeating the servant creatures of Rose and Mere’s devil-worshipping brother. Then, Jyme had reluctantly been in the employ of the brother, but he’d come around by the end of things. The former watchman and mercenary wore a sun-faded tan cloak, a leather vest, stained breeches, high boots, and his steel. He had a different look in his eye than the last time Nix had seen him, a harder look, like maybe he’d lived through some things. Nix glanced out the window to see if any more of Kerfallen’s agents were en route, but he saw nothing other than the street traffic and the patrons who’d fled through the doors milling about.
“Jyme?” Egil said. He peered more closely. “Shite, it is. That’s a well-timed arrival, Jyme. Like you fell out of the sky, almost.”
Nix thought maybe a bit too well timed. He and Egil shared a knowing look.
Egil hurried to the doors of the Tunnel and shouted, “All’s well, but we’re closed for a bit to clean up.” He shut the doors, turned, and said to Jyme, “What brings you back?”
“That’s a bit of a story,” Jyme said, sheathing his blade. He looked wide-eyed at the petrified patron standing in the center of the common room, his body and expression frozen in a position of agony.
“That just happen?” Jyme asked. “He gonna stay like that?”
Egil shrugged.
Jyme looked at Egil, then at Nix, then nodded at the automatons. “I have to ask again though. What the fak are those?”
Nix walked over and kneeled down. Jyme’s blade had opened the head of one of the humanoid constructs and through the black ichor or grease or whatever it was, Nix made out hair-thin lines of spun metal, tiny clusters of gears, shafts, and rods. The work was intricate and Nix had never seen anything like it.
“It’s the work of a wizard,” he said, standing. “One that’s none too happy with us at the moment.”
“Gewgaws,” Egil snarled. He stayed close to Jyme as the three of them, without saying anything, walked toward the bar.
A voice called from the rooms upstairs, Tesha’s voice. “Did you say all was well?”
“Not just yet,” Nix answered. “Give us a moment more.”
Jyme was smiling. “You boys are a welcome sight. I was—”
The moment they reached the bar, Egil grabbed Jyme with both hands, twisted an arm behind him, and bent him over until he was cheek down on the bar’s surface.
Jyme struggled for a moment, but he was no match for Egil’s strength. He might as well have been trying to lift a mountain.
“What the fak’s going on?” Jyme snapped over his shoulder, teeth gritted in pain. “I just helped you. Let me up, Egil.”
Nix leaned in near Jyme’s ear. “This is what’s going on, Jyme. We just got sideways of a wizard today, got attacked in our own place, and you show up right then after…How long’s it been, Egil?”
“Been a while since we’ve seen Jyme,” Egil said, giving Jyme’s arm an added twist.
“Ow,” Jyme exclaimed.
“A while,” Nix echoed. “The timing’s improbable, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Jyme protested, trying to maneuver free but failing in the face of Egil’s strength. “Damn it, Egil! That hurts! Listen, you two are always sideways of a wizard, ain’t you? I could show up anytime and the story’d be the same.”
Nix stood up and looked over Jyme at Egil, eyebrows raised.
Egil shrugged and tilted the bucket of his head. “He’s got a point.”
“He does,” Nix said. “Maybe.”
“Then let me the fak up,” Jyme said. “I ain’t here for no wizard.”
Nix nodded at Egil and the priest released Jyme, though Egil kept a hand on his back.
“Ale?” Nix said to Jyme, taking the seat beside him at the bar. “It’s good.”
Jyme, rubbing his shoulder, snapped, “I’ve had it before and I know it’s good. Pits, I’d been looking forward to seeing you two and I get…fakking grappled.”
“Grappled, he said,” Nix said to Egil, and chuckled. “Look at Jyme with the words, now.”
Egil went around to the back of the bar and started drawing ales. “He grew himself a beard, too, instead of that boy scruff he used to wear.”
“You two are just the same, I see,” Jyme said, massaging his shoulder. When Egil put a tankard before him, Jyme took a long drink, staring ahead at Mung’s picture.
“We don’t have a lot of time for conversation, Jyme,” Nix said.
“Wizard and all,” Jyme said, setting the tankard down.
“Time enough for an ale, though,” Egil said.
Nix wasn’t so sure, but decided not to press.
“Last we saw you,” Nix said, “you were going in the opposite direction as us.”
Jyme colored, hid behind his tankard while he took a quaff. “I’ve no pride in that.”
“No shame in it, either,” Egil said, filling himself a tankard. “I said as much then.”
“You did, but it hung on me, still,” Jyme said. “Anyways, I spent some time in Afirion after that. Sessket. You know it? Did some things, made some coin.” He shrugged.
“And now here you are,” Nix said. “Right at this moment.”
Jyme turned to look into Nix’s face. “Coincidence, Nix. Like I said.”
“Not to worry,” Nix said. “I can see you’re the Jyme we knew and not some wizard’s pawn. You picked a bad time to show, though.”
“That wizard isn’t going to stop coming, I’m thinking,” Egil said.
“Agreed. Even so…” Nix raised his tankard. “To old traveling companions returned.”
Jyme brightened at that.
Egil asked, “Should we call Tesha and the rest down now?”
“Gadd sees you behind his bar, he’ll have your head,” Nix said. “He’s still got that tulwar in hand, remember. Best we finish these ales first, then be on our way.”
Egil nodded. “Watch’ll be coming.”
“Who knows with those slubbers,” Nix said.
Egil came around the bar. He didn’t sit, but leaned on the bar near Jyme. “So what are you doing here, Jyme?”
Jyme opened his mouth a couple of times, searching for the words. Finally he shook his head and said, “I don’t even want to tell you now. It doesn’t matter anyway. You got things to handle.”
“And we don’t have time for guessing,” Nix said, standing. “Owing to that wizard I mentioned and us being sideways of him. So, it was good to see you Jyme, but…”
Egil didn’t budge. “I want to hear it. You said it hung on you, yeah? Not coming with us. That’s the core of it, eh?”
“It’s pointless now,” Jyme said.
Egil simply stared at him.
“We are in a hurry,” Nix said to the priest, or Jyme, whichever.
Again Tesha called from upstairs. “Is it clear or not, Nix?”
“Not quite,” Nix called back. “Jyme, spill whatever you need to spill or Egil will stand here all day.”
Jyme studied his hands. “Fine. So…I thought we’d become almost friends over that business in the desert. Am I wrong?”
Nix looked at Egil, then back at Jyme. “Friends might be a bit strong, Jyme, but you had our respect when we parted.”
“Well I guess that’s somethin’,” Jyme said. “But like I said, not going with you when you went after that nobleman—”
“He was a wizard, too,” Egil said.
“Damned if you weren’t right, Jyme,” Nix said, rapping the bar with his knuckles. “We are
sideways of wizards more often than not.”
“Anyway,” Jyme said. “That hung on me, yeah? So I carried that around until it got too heavy. Then I dragged it and me back here.”
“To do what?” Egil asked. He took a drink of his ale, looking thoughtful.
“Fak’s sake,” Nix said. “The priest is getting philosophical now. I can see it in the furrowed brow. We really should not linger, Egil.”
“Bah. To do what, Jyme?”
Jyme ignored Nix and gestured aimlessly with his hands. “I don’t know, Egil. Make sure the two of you got out of that scrape in the desert with your skins, maybe? Make up for my not comin’ with you back then?” He looked from Egil to Nix. “Look, I wanna go in with you two on something, an adventure like, is what I’m sayin’.”
Egil looked over at Nix, shaking his head. “Even Jyme is looking for adventure now. The world is upside down.”
“It’s a sign,” Nix said, drumming the bar impatiently with his fingers.
“A sign?” Egil said. “Aren’t I the priest?”
Nix chuckled. “That, too, might be a bit strong of a word.”
“Bah,” Egil said, and took a drink of his ale.
“Gofti, you mean,” Nix said. “This is Gadd’s realm. Calls for his vernacular.”
“Bah,” Egil offered as retort. “And gofti.”
“Did you save them?” Jyme asked them. “Those girls?”
The question sobered Egil, and it was the priest’s turn to look at his hands.
Nix answered for both of them. “That time, yeah. That brother got what was coming to him.”
The moment stretched in silence. Finally Jyme cleared his throat and sat up straight. “Look here. I didn’t come here beggin’ with my cock dragging on the floor. I just felt like I owed you two something for how I acted. But I can see you got your own matters to see to and if you don’t want me around, that’s fine, too. I’ve got other things to look to.”
He pushed back his stool and stood.
Nix could see the man was in earnest. “Don’t go running off, Jyme. Fak, man. At least finish your ale.”
“I thought you had to clear out,” Jyme said to Nix.
“We do,” Nix said. “But even so.”
“Sit,” Egil echoed. “Besides, I understand you.”
Jyme hesitated a moment but sat back down. “Egil the priest understands being ashamed of his own cowardice? I don’t credit that a bit.”
Nix sighed. “It’s not going to turn into a fakkin’ confessorium in here, is it?”
Egil ignored Nix. He put his thick forearms on the bar and interlaced his fingers. “You did something that didn’t square with how you see yourself, or how you want to see yourself, so you came back here to reconcile that.”
Jyme pursed his lips in thought. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”
“I know how that is,” Egil said.
Nix put a hand on Jyme’s shoulder. “You know what I think? I think it’s even worse than all that. I think old Jyme here doesn’t just want an adventure to square accounts. Listen to his tone. No, an adventure’s not enough. Jyme here wants to be the hero of the story.” Nix gave him a gentle shake. “Isn’t that about the size of it?”
Jyme colored, squirmed in his seat. “I don’t know about that. As you would say, hero is maybe a bit strong of a word. I just want to hold my own, is all. I know I ain’t the two of you, robbing tombs and facing this and that, but I know my way with a blade and could likely be a help. And then…”
He trailed off but Egil finished for him.
“And then the Jyme you see in your head will match the Jyme that walks the world, yeah?”
Jyme studied his hands, nodded. “That’s about it, yeah. I guess you are familiar with the feeling.”
“I am,” Egil said. He slammed the rest of his ale. “Never have squared the two, though. So best get used to the dissonance, Jyme.”
“Hmm,” Jyme said and cleared his throat. “Well.”
“Well, indeed,” Nix said. “Hells, maybe that’s the point, eh? We’re not supposed to meet our expectations for ourselves. We’re supposed to just keep trying and failing and try again.”
Neither Egil nor Jyme said anything.
“Come on now!” Nix said. “That could pass for profundity. Priest, what say you?”
“Bah.”
“Jyme?”
“Eh,” Jyme said.
“A pox on you both for not knowing that you sit beside a philosopher of note,” Nix said. He finished his ale. “And with that it’s about time we headed out, priest. We’re going to have to stay clear of the Tunnel for a while.”
“Agreed,” Egil said.
Nix said, “Kerfallen will be regrouping already. He’ll be at us again, next time with worse. I think these flying things and the automatons from the bazaar are just what he had to hand. He’ll get something more suitable next time.”
“Did you say ‘Kerfallen’?” Jyme exclaimed. “Kerfallen the Grey?”
“He wants something we’ve got,” Nix said, resting his hand on his satchel. “Badly, it seems.”
“You stole something from a wizard?” Jyme asked, incredulous.
Nix glared at Jyme. “No. In fact he’s trying to steal something from us. But if I told you how we came by that something—came by it honestly—you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I might,” Jyme said.
Egil glanced around the room, at the torn curtains, shattered tables, the remains of the clockwork creatures and the petrified patron. “We need to find out what these fakking plates are.”
“Plates?” Jyme asked. “What do you mean ‘plates’? Eating plates?”
“True,” Nix said to Egil. “And we will.”
“Fakking gewgaws,” Egil cursed. “Another ale, Jyme?”
“Uh, yeah. But I thought you two were leaving and—”
“How do we find out?” Egil asked Nix. “Ideas?”
Nix heard a door click open upstairs. Probably someone peeking out to see if it was safe to come out yet.
“Stay up there still!” Egil called, and the door slammed shut. He poured himself and Jyme another ale.
Nix frowned. “We need to clean up this mess and then we should move. I’m thinking on options.”
“One more ale hurts nothing,” Egil said. “And you were about to tell how we could find out what the plates are?”
“What are these fakkin’ plates?” Jyme asked, exasperated.
Nix ignored him. “If I hadn’t been expelled, I could make an inquiry at the Conclave. Kazmarek could tell us. The library there is comprehensive.”
Egil said, “But you were expelled, so you won’t, and therefore he won’t, and so I ask anew: How do we find out?”
“You’re sideways of a Conclave wizard, too?” Jyme asked Nix. “Fak, man. It’s like you have a disease.”
“Look at this,” Nix said, thumping Jyme on the back hard enough to spill a bit of Jyme’s ale. “We leave Jyme alone in the desert and he comes back funny. Everyone’s funny now. It’s as contagious as the crotch pox.”
Jyme colored and his expression fell somewhat when Nix mentioned the desert, but he rallied enough to ask, “Why not just ask him? Pay him some coin, a donation to the school or something?”
Nix knew it would be futile. “They don’t work that way. Kazmarek detests me personally and I’m not allowed on the premises. Possibly I insulted him. A few times. And, before you volunteer to try paying him yourself, Jyme, let me say that I don’t want another wizard seeing these plates. Because whatever they are drove Kerfallen to attack me in the bazaar and then in here. And that’s not normally his way. So I don’t know why it would be any different for the High Wizard of the Conclave. And the last thing we want is the entire Conclave coming down on us.”
Jyme shrugged. “Maybe just give them over then?”
“Bah,” said Egil, slamming the rest of his ale.
“And that’s the short of it,” Nix said. “You’re going to stumble
out of here if you have another, priest. Anyway, the long of it is that it’s the principle now. The plates are ours, hard come by, and I’m not giving them over to some wizard who tries to strong-arm us. He should’ve just asked to buy them.”
Jyme looked puzzled. “But if you’d have sold them—”
“It’s the principle, Jyme,” Egil said.
“It is,” Nix added.
Jyme took another drink of ale, then said, “Maybe it’s not that wise a principle, is what I’m sayin’. Anyways, how do you plan to find out what these things are?”
Nix smiled. “As I said, I was thinking through options. Option one is that we’re going to go to the Conclave.”
“I like it,” Egil said, raising his tankard in a toast.
“But you just said they wouldn’t deal with you.”
“They won’t,” Nix said. “Which is why we’ll break in. I just need access to the library. The book sprites will help me find what I need there.”
“Book sprites?” Jyme asked.
“Magical creatures. Fae,” Nix answered.
Egil harrumphed. “I don’t even ask, Jyme. Why bother is my thinking. He could tell me they were demons, or imprisoned souls, or anything else and I’d not know better. I just take him at his word.”
Jyme leaned back in his chair. “So, are you both drunk? Because half of what you’ve said makes no sense. You have plates you might have sold to a wizard, but now that you know he really wants them, you won’t give them over at any price. You won’t use a proxy to make a request of the Conclave, but you’ll risk breaking in to get what you need.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Egil said.
Nix smiled smugly at Egil. “I told you I’d have an adventure for you.”
Jyme looked from one to the other as if they were mad, then his face fell in resignation. He stood. “Well enough. So when do we start?”
“Ha! Didn’t I say it?” Nix said. “Wants to be a hero.”
“Aye,” Egil said.
