by Edward Bolme
“How so?”
“Furifax convinces my church to attack Wing’s Reach to capture the staff, but the day before they send you in early to steal it. Immediately afterward, my people attack. They take the risk, take the blame, and get nothing to show for it, while Furifax gets the staff and avoids discovery.”
“That almost sounds like you’re defending your followers, when they’re running around behind your back,” observed Kehrsyn.
Tiglath snorted and said, “Old habits die hard. And, now that you point that out, that theory doesn’t shed any light on how my people found out, now does it?”
“So how are you going to find out the truth?” asked Kehrsyn.
“I don’t know,” Tiglath said. She paused, her mouth compressed, and blew air out of her nose like an angry bull. “Get used to lies and deceit, Kehrsyn,” she said. “These days, nothing in Messemprar is what it seems.”
“Does that include you?” Kehrsyn asked, looking at Tiglath from under her brows.
“Well, I certainly hope I’m more than a fat and angry old crone,” joked Tiglath. She paused, her eyes turned inward on her own soul. “And I hope, too,” she added, her eyes softening to sadness for just a moment, “that I’m not actually as cruel as I probably seem.”
Kehrsyn smiled, then her grin faded again as she ran her thumb across the carvings in the halves of the wand.
“Well,” said Tiglath, brushing dust off her hands, “I have some undesirable work to do among the faithful. An alliance has been broken, and somehow I doubt those who came here are likely to discuss the matter freely. Good day,” she said as she mounted the stairwell. “I do hope we can meet again.”
With that, the priestess left Kehrsyn standing at the base of the empty house, amidst broken oaths, broken bodies, and a broken wand.
Not knowing what else to do, Kehrsyn shouldered her bag, left the building, climbed down the ladder, and headed for the Thayan enclave to see Eileph.
He wanted to study that thing, she thought, so I guess there’s nothing stopping him now. Not that there’s anything really left to learn—Tiglath said the magic was fading—but really, I owe him the pieces of the wand.
She worked her way through the crowded streets of Messemprar. The snow had been plowed to slush and pressed away to the margins of the streets, leaving slick cobbles, cold mud, and, in places of greater shade, ice for her to contend with. The wind had picked up again and blew from the southeast in gusts. Kehrsyn pulled her cloak tighter around her face and shoulders and tried to ignore the fact that it smelled of someone else.
When she was most of the way to the enclave, Kehrsyn stopped in her tracks, rolled her eyes, and changed her course for the Mage Bazaar. Of course Eileph would be there, in his tent, selling to a desperate public instead of lounging in his sanctum. She only hoped she would not have to wait long to see him.
At the entrance to the curtain walls that encircled the Red Wizards’ pavilion, the guard informed her that Eileph was not selling merchandise that day. He had remained in the enclave engaged in research. Kehrsyn rolled her eyes again and retraced her steps all the way back to the enclave.
She was admitted promptly, and once more found herself entering Eileph’s laboratory and erstwhile reception room. As she entered, the deformed wizard was carefully studying a small organ he had cut from the cadaver. The toad sat upon the corpse’s flayed face, an image that made Kehrsyn’s lower lip quiver with revulsion.
“Um … Eileph?” she said.
Eileph hobbled around, leaning on a gnarled cane as misshapen as he was. So did the toad, its amphibian feet slapping on the cold, dead musculature as it rotated its obese bulk in place. Kehrsyn tried very hard to ignore it, but the beast was unavoidably visible in her peripheral vision.
“Oh, mm-hmm, it’s you,” said Eileph. “I must tell you, it is rare I find myself anticipating anyone’s interruption, but you’ve managed to make yourself an exception, even if you are built like a wee wisp of an elf.”
“Thanks,” she said.
As she tried to figure out how to break the news, Kehrsyn smiled hollowly.
“Do your people have another commission for me? Hmm?” asked Eileph, waggling his fingers. “More gold for this tired old soul?”
“Well … no,” said Kehrsyn. “Basically, um, the reason I’m, y’know, here, is that they—well we, that is—we agreed that … you could sort of … study the, uh … the staff. When we were through with it. And … I guess we’re kind of through with it.”
With those words, Kehrsyn placed the broken halves of the wand on a relatively flat pile of papers on the worktable, there being no spot that was actually clear of clutter.
Eileph’s jaw dropped, and his skin went deathly pale. One hand clutched at his jersey, just over his heart. He began to hobble over to the remnants of the staff.
The toad began croaking loudly, and Eileph burst into braying laughter. It was a jarring duet. Kehrsyn tried to smile, but her unease made it look like she was going to vomit, which, truth be told, was not entirely out of the question.
Eileph drew in a deep, gasping, rasping breath and slapped the table.
“You shouldn’t scare an old man like that, young lady, you really had me going!” He closed his solitary eye and began pounding on his forehead with two stubby fingers. “Oh my, oh, dearie me,” he laughed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to spit for a tenday, you scared me so bad!”
“What?” asked Kehrsyn.
“What? Why, because this is the decoy, youngster!” guffawed Eileph, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his empty eye.
“Decoy?” echoed Kehrsyn, trying very hard to catch up with events.
“Well,” he said, “I see that it fooled you, eh, young lady? Don’t let it stop your wee little heart. This is what I was working on for you lot, a copy of the staff you’d marked for acquisition. Here,” he said, as he hobbled over and picked up the halves, “let me show you what I did. Superb carving work, if I do say so myself.”
He moved so close that he had to crane his head up to look at Kehrsyn. He held the halves aloft for her inspection, spinning them and pointing to the pieces as he spoke.
“See? First of all, this is stone, not bone like the original. Didn’t have any good bones handy, but it looks much the same as a weathered bone, and anyway that organic stuff is a regular mess to carve properly. But stone is heavier, so I had to hollow it out just like this to match the weight properly. Now this side you already saw in the sketches I showed you, but I didn’t know what this side looked like, so I had to wait for your delivery to be able to duplicate it. Hard work, too, but I’d already had practice in the style with this first side here. The river and setting the jeweler made, and laid the black amber and smoky quartz to match the original. Then I cast Mythrellaa’s Lust upon it—that’s a rather more stylish version of the Fool’s Aura, a little trick the zulkir gave me in payment for a small service I’d rendered her. And there it was, all but indistinguishable from the original, except, of course, it wouldn’t work.”
“That’s … very impressive,” said Kehrsyn, stepping back to get some personal space between her and the sour-smelling magician.
“Hmph,” said Eileph, inspecting the pieces. “Of course, that doesn’t explain how this came to be broken.”
“They don’t tell me such things,” said Kehrsyn, pleased that she’d come up with such a plausible non-answer off the cuff.
“And who does?” yelled Eileph, flicking a finger at Kehrsyn. “Oh, I know all about such things,” he said as he hobbled away, then stopped dead in his tracks. “Or, more accurately, I don’t. You see, the zulkirs and tharcions, and all the Red Wizards are very good at not telling things.” He hobbled back over to Kehrsyn and stood too close again. “Which makes it very scary,” he whispered, “when one considers all that one has been taught by others who thrive on secrets. It makes one wonder how much knowledge they hold back! And that makes all of us hunger for that knowledge, plot for it, scheme f
or it …” Eileph’s arm started to tremble, tapping his cane on the floor. “Good thing I’m such a stable person,” he said.
Kehrsyn nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack were she to lie at that moment.
“Well,” said Eileph, as he started back to the cadaver.
He tossed the halves on his table as he passed. Kehrsyn thought maybe the fake one would pass inspection at Wing’s Reach, at least until she got the real one. She feared returning empty-handed with Ahegi lurking around.
“Um, Eileph, sir?” asked Kehrsyn. “Can you fix it?”
Eileph whipped around, staggering when his whirl exceeded his balance.
“What?” he bellowed. “First they destroy my art and now they say, ‘Jump, Eileph, fix the staff!’ What do they think I am, a trained homunculus?”
“Standard rates,” said Kehrsyn, raising her voice to be heard over Eileph’s tirade. “Double for a rush job.”
Eileph’s countenance softened in an instant. He picked up the two halves and fitted them together, working his jaw from side to side.
“Hmph,” he said. “I can do it, young lady, never you fret. I can have it for you tonight, if you don’t mind a bit of a crack, or tomorrow for a job as good as new. If you want one carved afresh, that’ll take a while.”
“How big a crack are we talking about?”
“Oh, not a very big one,” said Eileph. “Fit the halves together and take a look. I can make it a bit better than that.”
Kehrsyn fiddled with the broken pieces. The crack would be just a hair wide.
“That’d be great,” she said, handing the pieces over.
Eileph limped back over to her and patted her hand gently, almost tenderly.
“Don’t you fret your heart, young lady. I’ll have it delivered tonight,” he said, with a smile that was the picture of warmth despite the malformed frame in which it appeared.
Massedar stood at the window in his study, gazing out at the pale winter sky. Sunshine slanted into the room but did not warm it. He felt the outside chill pouring in through the open window, counterbalanced by the warmth radiating from the roaring fire. The blaze warmed his back and the hands clasped behind, and the reflected flames glinted merrily in his rings.
A knock came at the door—not the door that led to his private bedroom, of course, but the doorway that led to the audience hall in which he had alternately cowed and impressed their young thief.
“Enter thou,” he said, not turning his head. His breath misted in the chill draft.
He heard the door open and close again. One pair of footsteps came over to his side.
“Ahegi, faithful servant,” said Massedar. “Thou wouldst speak with me in privacy ere the interrogation?”
“Indeed, sir,” said Ahegi, likewise in High Untheric.
Massedar turned. Ahegi’s head was freshly shaved, and the two circles that adorned his forehead glistened. Ahegi’s close-set and piggish eyes, set deep beneath heavy brows, glowered with black irises and blacker thoughts.
“Speak thy heart, then,” commanded Massedar.
“My heart ponders, belike we have erred to entrust ourselves unto that maiden,” said Ahegi. “Would that we had plied her lips forcibly with red irons and turnspindles, that we might have such knowledge of our trespassers unto ourselves.”
Massedar smiled thinly and said, “The spangled sandpiper feigneth grave injury to lure the wolf from its nest, and the butterfly spider feigneth comeliness to lure a mate to its doom. If a simple animal understandeth that nectar draweth the prey willingly whilst the fire repelleth, wherefore dost thou despair of this lesson?”
“Mayhap I find the act of dissimulation cometh less easily unto me than it doth thee,” Ahegi replied, his lips pressed together. “By my troth, I find that falsehood taxeth my patience.”
“That, old friend, maketh thee an advisor of great worth,” said Massedar.
Ahegi bowed and turned back to the door.
He opened it and said, “Demok, thou art granted audience to the Lord of Wing’s Reach.”
Demok stepped in and nodded slightly but respectfully. He kept his eyes studiously unfocused, looking at a vacant spot in the air to give his peripheral vision the greatest advantage.
“Sir,” he said.
“My advisor Ahegi sweareth that thy maiden-thief lieth beyond trust,” said Massedar. “What opinion hast thou?”
“Trustworthy,” said Demok, nodding. “Sound heart. Looking to impress, find a home.”
“Sound heart?” echoed Ahegi with a sneer.
“Good with kids,” said Demok. “Cares about people.”
“We shall not abide a net of such flimsy braids,” said Ahegi. “She hath led us unto the lair of our enemies. Henceforth shall we vanquish them by advantage, striking the vipers in their den.”
“Can’t,” said Demok with a set jaw.
“Thinkest thou not that I possess the power to smite whomever draweth my wrath?” asked Massedar. “Thou hast shadowed her unto the gates of her guild. We strike.”
Demok looked at Massedar, then at Ahegi. “She spotted my tail. Got away. Tried to follow; no luck. Don’t know where the guild is.”
Massedar stepped forward, drawing a breath to say something, but then stopped, closed his eyes, and exhaled bitterly.
“Perforce must we wait,” Massedar said eventually. “These are ill tidings, Demok. I pay thee handsomely for better. Leave thou me.”
Demok nodded again and left the room in a flickering with his efficient, graceful movements.
Massedar and Ahegi stood silently for some time.
Ahegi said, “He speaketh not the truth unto us,” he said.
“I know,” Massedar said, nodding, “but we know not yet wherefore. Arrest ye him not before the measure of his deceit hath been revealed in full. Someone within Wing’s Reach cleaveth to the Zhentarim. If it be he, must we then proceed with great prudence, lest we alert those who bring our doom.”
By the time Kehrsyn left the enclave, the streets had been freshly washed by a squall. The smell and humidity of winter rain hung in the air. Heavy drops of water fell from the eaves and splattered into the sodden drifts of slush.
Kehrsyn had a promise from Eileph that he’d send the repaired decoy staff to her as soon as it was completed. All she had to do was wait for it … at “the guild’s” headquarters at sixteen Wheelwright’s.
Kehrsyn gathered her cloak around her shoulders and shivered. The chill came not from the weather but from the dread within her breast. She did not want to return to that house. To keep her feet from dragging, Kehrsyn distracted herself by trying to sort out events.
The followers of Tiamat had attacked Furifax’s people to seize the Staff of the Necromancer. The Furifaxians had already prepared a decoy, either to fool the Tiamatans or to reinsert in Wing’s Reach. That made it seem more likely that the rebels had deliberately double-crossed the dragon cultists … or, she mused, that they knew the dragon cultists would double-cross them.
The Tiamatans attacked and slaughtered the defenders. How convenient that the Zhentarim had provided a large, loud crowd of people right there to conceal the noise of the fight. At some point, someone broke the decoy. On top of that, the real staff had been taken. That she knew because someone had said it was “downstairs,” which pretty obviously meant Tharrad’s office. So either Tharrad had broken the decoy wand, hoping to fool the Tiamatans, or else the Tiamatans had found both wands and broken the false one out of spite. Since all the rebels were dead, it didn’t really matter which was the truth. The question remained, where was the Staff of the Necromancer? Did the Tiamatan church have it, which is to say, did Tiglath have it? Or had her followers been working with or for someone else and turned it over to them for safekeeping?
Kehrsyn found herself nearing the lair of the Furifaxians. The crowds around the Chariot Memorial had thinned, and in the buzz that lingered in the wake of the Zhentarim’s dealings Kehrsyn went unnoticed. She stood at the foot of the l
adder leading to the front door. Her hand flexed on the cold, wet ladder, knuckles alternately turning white from tension and red from chill as she tried to work up the courage to go back inside.
She did, mounting the ladder slowly, heavily, and pausing at the door. She felt compelled to open the door quietly, holding her breath as it swung wide.
She slid inside and closed the door. The atmosphere was morbid, exuding an air of pointlessness. The smell was the bitter, raw odor of the slaughterhouse. The winter sun slanted in through the windows, falling on the cyanotic faces of the dead.
Kehrsyn narrowed her eyes in an attempt to stop her eyelids from trembling. Yes, the Untheri prided themselves on prospering under even extreme hardship, but while she had endured a lifetime of stoic suffering, she was unsure whether she could withstand hours of waiting among the restless souls of betrayers and victims alike.
She stalked into the kitchen, boots making a noise so slight it could be noticed only among those who drew no breath. The lowering fire still burned in the hearth. Though the building was beginning to cool off, she could not bring herself to stoke the fire. Somehow, having a merry blaze burning brightly in the midst of the massacred dead seemed incongruous, perhaps even sacrilegious, and Kehrsyn wanted to do nothing that might attract their spirits back to harry the sole living creature in the building.
She circled the upper floor as gingerly as possible, and finally located a place where she could sit with only marginal discomfort. One of the rooms held only two bodies, and they lay by the doors. She found a tall stool and set it in the center of the room so that she could wait with wide spaces all around and no corpses reposing behind her. Thankfully, her nose seemed already to have become numb to the stink of pierced innards.
