The Elements of Sorcery

by Christopher Kellen

  "Come on now, Janny," I said, trying to keep my tone reasonable despite the fact that the bones in my foot felt as though they were about to be ground into dust. It took an enormous amount of effort, but I managed. "We just want to talk."

  "Talk, my arse!" he squealed, trying again – unsuccessfully – to close the door on my foot. "That's a damned Arbiter out there! He gonna cut my heart out sure as the sun gonna come up tomorrow! They don' be askin' no questions!"

  "Look, Janny, he doesn't care about your smuggling operations," I said. "That's not his job. We're just looking for something, and I knew you were the man to come to see. You're always the man to see when I'm looking for something, aren't you?"

  The piggish man paused briefly in his frantic attempts to shut us out. "Yeah… yeah, I s'pose you're right..."

  "I’d never dream of going anywhere else when I’m looking for something," I continued, my voice low and soothing, like I was trying to calm a spooked horse. "You’re always the guy to see. Nobody’s here to cut your heart out, Janny – you’ve got my word on that."

  Fortunately, Jahain Torthanas was not what one might consider 'bright'. He squinted out at me for a long moment, and then pulled the door open slightly. "Well… c'mon in, then. I'll tell you whatever I can. Maybe find what you're looking for."

  Trying not to limp on my aching foot, we entered the fence's house. He closed the door behind us after looking carefully in each direction.

  Every time I visited Torthanas, the contrast between the inside of the building and the outside nearly took my breath away, and this time was no different. Behind that ramshackle exterior was one of the most lavish houses the Old Bitch kept within her walls. Exotic tapestries hung on the walls, there were tables made of solid oak and rich, black ebony. On many of those tables, countless assorted items were carefully laid out, from bottles to coins, leather goods and books, weaponry and even the occasional piece of armor, most of it outlandish and strangely-styled.

  "Get ya a drink, Eddy?" he asked me; I gritted my teeth once again at the diminutive of my name.

  "I'm fine, Janny… thanks," I said, waving a hand. "My friend here and I are just trying to find a particular item."

  "I got all kinds," Torthanas said. "Whatcha lookin' for?"

  "A crystal sword," I answered, keeping a conversational tone. "Seen anything like that?"

  "You mean like the one your 'friend' 'ere keeps on 'is back?"

  "That's the one."

  The Arbiter had remained curiously silent throughout this exchange, and I snuck a glance at him. He seemed to be watching me with detached interest, the way I might watch a captive insect as it struggled to free itself. A little shudder ran down my spine, and I turned my attention back to the fence.

  Torthanas was looking down at the floor, scuffing one foot like a scolded child. "I ain't seen nothin' like that come through here."

  "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "'Course I'm sure!" he expostulated. "Where would I 'ave gotten somethin' like that?"

  I leaned down a bit in a conspiratorial fashion. As I suspected he would, the fence leaned in closer to listen, and I had to suppress a smile. "Someone killed an Arbiter," I whispered.

  "Killed?" Torthanas gulped. "But… but that's…"

  "Impossible," I confirmed with a serious nod. "I know. I saw it with my own eyes, Janny. I found the body in the street."

  "That's… that's just…" the fence trailed off and wrung his hands together nervously. "Well, you wastin' yer time here anyway. Ain't seen nothin' like that through here. Sorry, Eddy."

  "Oh." I looked down, feigning disappointment. The little rat was lying to me, I could feel it. "Do you mind if I take a quick look at your books while I'm here? Have you gotten in anything new?"

  "Well, uh…" Torthanas squirmed some more, but I knew he couldn't turn down the possibility of a sale, no matter how nervous he was. "Yeah, but be quick about it. It's gettin' late."

  I shot a glance at the Arbiter, who still wore that distantly-amused expression – I found it infuriating. With a false air of casualness, I began to browse the books that Torthanas had laid out on the table.

  He kept a secret stash in the back room – I knew that he did, because he'd gotten something for me from it one day. If he had the crystal sword, it was almost certainly going to be back there, but I wasn't sure how to get it without alerting him to the fact that I knew he was lying. Barging through his house wasn't the best idea – I was going to need something from him, sooner or later, and I didn't want to burn any bridges.

  Tal followed me as I perused Torthanas' goods – there wasn't anything I hadn't already seen and passed over, but I continued to feign interest, picking up one leather-bound tome and flipping through its yellow pages.

  The fence seemed to get more and more nervous as time went by, but he didn't say anything more. At last, he took a nervous step toward us and said, "Uh… got to check on somethin' in the kitchen. Right back with ya… don't ya be stealin' anything now, Eddy…"

  "Take your time, Janny," I answered, with a bored wave of my hand.

  Once the fence was gone, I leaned over toward Tal. "He's lying. About the sword, I mean."

  "Of course he's lying," he answered. "The question is: what are you going to do about it?"

  I never got a chance to answer. Right about then, two huge men, both holding bared steel broadswords, stepped into the room from behind one of the many hanging curtains; it must have concealed a doorway. Torthanas had called in his muscle to get rid of the unwanted visitors.

  With a sigh, I shook my head and folded my arms at the two men. "You here to see Janny?"

  "Shut up, sorcerer," one of them, a broad-shouldered man with no hair and an ugly scar across his nose, said. "Torthanas wants you gone, and he wants you gone now."

  "I'm one of his best customers," I protested, making an underhanded gesture toward the Arbiter, hoping that he would do something about this. "There might be something here I want to buy."

  "He says you ain't buying nothin' tonight," the scarred man rumbled. "Get lost, or we get you lost."

  "All right, all right." I held up my hands in mock surrender. "We'll go."

  They lowered their swords, and in that instant, the Arbiter sprang into action. The sword on his back seemed to teleport into his hand as he leapt forward, swinging it in an arc before him with a dancer's grace. The two thugs brought up their blades in defense; the Arbiter's crystal sword struck one of them, sending it spinning across the room to land on the floor near the door to the outside. His foot snapped up as the other sword swung at him – a slow, clumsy movement that looked as though it were moving through molasses in comparison. The Arbiter's boot caught the hilt of the attacker's sword, jarring the hand beneath, and the second thug dropped his blade from numb fingers.

  Two more swift, sharp movements incapacitated both thugs by twisting an arm up behind their backs in what looked like a most unpleasant fashion, and then the Arbiter smashed their ugly heads together with a deep, hollow sound. They collapsed to the floor together, eyes rolled back into their heads.

  "Get the fence!" I hissed. "He'll try to make a break for it!"

  The Arbiter didn't even glance my way, but instead sprinted through the doorway Torthanas had disappeared into. I started to follow, but only a few seconds later, he dragged the fat little man back into the main room kicking and screaming and hollering bloody murder. It was quite a sight, and I couldn't suppress a smile that time.

  "The sword, Janny. Where is it?"

  "I told you, I ain't seen no…" the fence trailed off as he found the glittering blue crystal of Tal's sword hovering beneath his throat. He swallowed hard, and I swear he pissed himself in that moment. "Okay… okay. It's in the back. I ain't sold it yet… nobody wants to buy a thing like that, but now I'm stuck with it. You take it, Eddy… no charge."

  "Good man," I said.

  It didn't take long for Torthanas to give me precise instructions for retrieving the crystal sword from the loc
ked cabinet in his back room. As I pulled it free from the hooks on which it hung, I studied the semi-translucent blade. It seemed to be a single piece of crystal, unique in its formation, with odd angles and protrusions as it slowly narrowed to a razor-sharp point. The blade was attached to a modest hilt, which sported no quillons to guard the Arbiter's hands in combat, that was built around the thinnest part of the crystal. It was entirely dark, an inert blue color that showed no glimmer of power within it.

  Wrapping the sword in a fold of my robe, I returned to the main room, where the Arbiter was amusing himself by waving his own glowing blade in front of the fence's eyes and watching the fat man's reactions. "Where'd you get the sword, Janny?"

  He was reluctant, but it didn't take much convincing. "A few guys met me at the White Orchid four nights ago. They had it, wanted to sell it. I told 'em I'd buy it, but that's before I knew what it was."

  The story sounded plausible enough. It was, at least, a lead to follow. "Good enough," I said. "Come on, Arbiter. Let's go."

  Tal released the fence and we walked toward the outer door. Just as we were about to open it and head back into the night, Torthanas got up the guts to call out, "And don't you ever come back here, Edar Moncrief!"

  I spun on my heel, glaring balefully at the little man. He shrank back slightly, but his face remained firm. That is, until I hissed, "I'll be back whenever I damn well feel like it, Jahain. If you try to stop me, the Arbiter here is going to have words with you. Understand?"

  What little defiance remained in the fence melted away, and he nodded feebly. I turned away once more, sweeping out the door and into the street.

  "I'll be moving on once this is solved," Tal murmured.

  "I know," I answered, handing him the crystal blade. "But he doesn't."

  He slid the sword beneath the baldric that circled his torso, crossing the other scabbard on his back. "We found Daen's manna sword, but that still doesn't answer the real question. Who killed him? You haven't gotten us any closer, sorcerer." The Arbiter's voice was low, but carried a note of danger in it enough to make me swallow hard.

  "Give me time, give me time," I said. "He gave us something, at least. The White Orchid. I should have thought of that first."

  "What's that?"

  A grin played on my lips. "Quite the experience, actually. Come on."

  V

  The White Orchid is one of the most raucous, ribald locales in the city. The proprietor claims that it has been in the same family for more than seven generations of slavers and pimps, but it was more likely to have been seized by whatever enterprising criminal happened to murder the previous owner, judging by the various bloodstains in every darkened corner and the wide, frightened eyes of the 'workers'.

  It also happened to be where one could find every piece of underground news that passed amongst the ears of the lowest, most observant citizens, and a fair number of city guardsmen who were 'off duty' at the time.

  Normally, venturing into the White Orchid is only something I would do if I happened to be extremely drunk or desperate, and I was neither. The chances of getting a knife in the back were only slightly less than the ones of successfully getting the bartender to serve a drink that wouldn't make you blind. Somehow, it actually made me feel better that there was a tall, dark and dangerous man with a crystal sword only a few steps behind me.

  The Arbiter stuck out like a wolf in a henhouse. His drab clothing in dark colors struck a high contrast against the fine, brightly-colored silks and lace that filled the common room of the brothel. The coarse laughter emanating from within could be heard from the street, along with the shrieks – some playful, more less so – from the girls in the various rooms, booths and nooks. The entire place stank of sweat, ale, blood and sex, and I nearly had to cover my nose with the collar of my robe to avoid choking on the stench.

  He seemed unfazed by it all, taking it in with those impassive, glowing eyes of his. Though his voice was low, it somehow carried perfectly to my ears. "What useful information could possibly be obtained in a place like this?"

  "You'd be surprised," I shot back, though my own words seemed drowned by the din. Trying to mask my distaste, I sidled across the common room and slid onto a rickety stool in front of the bar counter. The Arbiter's measured steps sounded behind me, but he did not take a seat.

  "This place is disgusting," I heard him murmur.

  Doing my best to ignore Tal's acid words, I turned my attention to the fat, greasy man who stood behind the bar counter, rubbing a filthy rag along the back counter as though it were supposed to be cleaning something. "Alcar," I said, in a low, urgent tone. "Get me something to drink, would you?"

  The fat man turned and gave me something like a grin, though it could only have been thusly described under the most charitable circumstances. "You don' come by here much anymore, do ya, Edar?"

  "Whenever I can avoid it," I agreed genially. "I'll have the black Mard."

  He slammed a stoneware mug onto the bar counter and filled it with a thick, almost syrupy dark liquid before sliding it down to me. I licked my lips nervously; while I enjoyed the occasional black Mard, it was not exactly conducive to straight thinking and good judgment. Unfortunately, there was no other way to get Alcar to talk, and the black Mard was the one thing he served that I could choke down.

  With a grimace, I took a long pull from the dirty mug, fighting off my gag reflex as the sweet-and-bitter syrup flowed into my mouth and down my gullet. It left a burning sensation behind as it vanished into my throat, and I knew that I would be feeling the effects of the powerful alcohol within minutes. Unfortunately, the other things served at the White Orchid would have been far more vile even than that, and I didn't even want to consider what might be lurking in the brothel's water supply.

  "Did you know there was an Arbiter in town?" I asked.

  Alcar snorted, looking past me at the dark-haired man standing a few paces away. "So there is."

  "Not that one," I said, shaking my head. "Another one."

  "Two Arbiters?" Alcar asked, surprise not registering on his face. "That's new to me."

  I leaned in close, and I could smell the bartender's smoke-and-whisky-stained breath. It made me want to return the black Mard and deposit the syrupy liquid back onto the bar. "Somebody killed the other one."

  Alcar's eyes flashed for an instant, but then went dull again. "Thought you couldn't kill an Arbiter."

  Dammit, there was something there, but I had no idea what it was. If anything was happening in the city, Alcar Deimovan would be the man who would know about it. The White Orchid was not just the most popular brothel and bar in town, it was also the crossroads for every kind of underground scum you could think of. Any piece of information worth knowing passed through here, and Alcar was at the center of all of it.

  I inclined my head toward the Arbiter behind me and met his glittering gaze. "My friend here isn't feeling very talkative. Maybe we should offer a little something to jog his memory."

  Tal took two steps forward and slid onto the stool beside me. He placed his thick arms on the counter before him and leaned forward. Alcar took a tiny step backward as the Arbiter's blue gaze locked on him.

  "My name is D'Arden Tal," the Arbiter said, his voice that same low tone that carried effortlessly to precisely the place he wanted it to go. "Someone has killed one of my brethren in this city, and I intend to find out whom. You can either tell me what you know, or I will rip your throat out through your neck and nail it to the wall."

  The fat man took another quivering step backward. "You ain't got no power here…"

  Like a flash of lightning, the Arbiter's hand shot across the bar and grabbed the front of the bartender's clothing, wrapping in it like an iron vise as he dragged the bloated swill-dispenser forward until their faces were mere inches apart. He bared his teeth in a snarl as he glared into the piggish eyes before him.

  "What. Do. You. Know?" the words came out like daggers, each with their own perfectly-honed point that a
lmost caused me physical pain, though they were not thrown in my direction.

  Alcar's face had gone whiter than fresh mountain snow. His bulbous lips worked, but no sound could escape the clenched throat. The white sclera showed all around the dingy brown of his eyes, and a vein was visibly pulsing in his forehead. The cobalt light shining from the Arbiter's eyes actually reflected off the pale, fishy face, making the bartender look like he'd just crawled fresh from the grave. He'd probably pissed himself, not that I'd have been able to smell it over the omnipresent overripe stench.

  "S… someone m… might have said s… something about…"

  "About what?" growled the Arbiter.

  It was then I noticed the subtle but definite movement around us. The coarse laughter and shrieks had gone silent, and it dawned on me that the entire common room was now staring directly at us. Though no definite sound issued from the crowd, I could have sworn I heard the sounds of fingers drumming against knife hilts. I swallowed hard. The temperature hadn't changed, but a chill ran down my spine.

  My heart rate kicked up several notches, a rush of blood began in my ears and I felt cold sweat bead on my forehead. I didn't hear if Alcar answered the Arbiter or not, because the danger wards that I keep active in order to warn me of an impending threat suddenly began ringing like a klaxon in my head. Someone intended me harm, and they were about to act on it.

  Sorcery is a slippery thing. It's like trying to catch and hold an eel with your bare hands – difficult, wriggly and often slimy as you try desperately to grasp it firmly as it tries to escape. Manipulating manna is about as easy as herding cats; but simple things like magical wards, minor charms and love potions are both rote and reliable, after one has invested the requisite hundreds of late-night hours of routine and practice. Unfortunately, they can only be used for the most general of purposes.

  For example: I now knew that someone intended me harm, but I had no idea which of the several dozen people it might be. Hell, it might even have been Alcar, except that the fat bartender was too frightened to be thinking about anything but the azure-eyed Arbiter threatening to open him from nose to crotch with a crystal sword.