He hulked up the steps, folded his huge arms, and glared down at me. “This him, sir?” His voice was deep and growling.
Yes, the wizard’s apprentice, I opened my mouth to say, but Nevery beat me to it.
“It is,” Nevery said. He paused to thread a few copper lock coins onto his purse string.
“I’m Conn,” I added.
The new muscle leaned down and spoke in a low voice, so Nevery couldn’t hear him. “Stay out of my way, you.” He showed me his fist.
All right, I got the message. I edged away from him.
“Come along,” Nevery said. He went off down the street, swinging his cane, and the hired muscle went with him.
I followed, trying to listen in on their discussion, but they kept their voices low.
We ended up at Dusk House, where one of Wellmet’s worst lived. Crowe. Underlord. Are you sure you want to go here, Nevery? I wanted to ask. But I kept quiet.
From the outside, Crowe’s place wasn’t too bad. Big iron gates out the front, high wall with spikes on top. Inside, a tall stone mansion house. Hard place to get into, hard place to get out of. Not someplace I wanted to go back to. But I reckoned being with Nevery would be protection enough.
Nevery had a word with the two minions at the gate, who let us in. Then he had a word with the four minions at the front door, who let us in.
“We’ll take you to Underlord Crowe,” one of the minions said. “But the muscle stays here.”
“Very well.” Nevery sounded calm. But I saw how hard he was gripping his cane. “Benet, wait here.” He turned to go with the minion, and I started after him. He paused, looked down at me. “You stay too, boy.”
I watched him go off down the hallway, the cane going tap tap on the shiny black floor. At the other end of the hall, he and the minion went through a tall, black door, which slammed behind them.
I looked around. One of the minions had gone with Nevery. Two had gone back to their guard-room by the front door. That left one watching me and Nevery’s new muscle man. Benet stood with his feet braced, arms folded, glaring at the minion, who stared back at him.
Keeping my head down, I sat on the cold floor with my back against the wall.
At that, the minion shifted his glare to me. His eyes narrowed. “Here now. I know you, don’t I?”
I sat very still.
The minion nodded. “You’re that lockpick. Crowe has a word out on you.”
Drats.
The minion came over and, with hard hands, gripped me by the shoulders and yanked me to my feet. I shot Benet a glance, but he stood with his arms folded. No help.
“My master will want a word with you,” the minion growled.
A word was not what the Underlord wanted from me.
All at the same moment, I kicked out at the minion’s shin and twisted my shoulders and I was free. Ducking under his reaching arms, I raced down the shiny stone hallway toward the door Nevery had gone through.
“Here, you!” the minion shouted. Then he called for the other minions and lumbered after me.
I went through the door into an empty hallway. The second door I came to was unlocked, so I darted through and slammed it closed. I was in another hallway.
I needed to find Nevery. My bare feet made no noise as I ran down the hallway, pausing to try each door. Locked, locked, locked. The hallway turned; I crouched down to peer around the corner. If a guard is looking out for intruders, he looks at his eye level, not down near the floor.
In one direction, nothing but empty hallway. Down the other, two minions outside a door. Crowe still used it as his office, I guessed. Nevery was in there. I backed away from the turning and tried the nearest doorknob, a bumpy brass thing with a big keyhole. Locked. I peeked through the keyhole, checking for light: none. Put my ear against the door: silence.
I fished my lockpick wires out of my pocket and picked the lock, clean. Easing open the door, I slid inside and pushed it shut again. The room was dark, but I could make out another door in the shadows at the other end.
I crossed the room, quick-quiet to the other door, and did the thing with the lockpicks again. Still clear. Went through the next room, to the next door.
Along the bottom of this door was a line of light. I crouched down and peered through the keyhole. Couldn’t see much. Flickering werelight, maybe a shelf of books, the corner of a gold-gilt picture frame.
Then a sound. Click-tick, click-tick, click-tick-tick-tick. I knew what made that sound. The Underlord. A long time ago I’d done something stupid—picked Crowe’s pocket to see what he carried around with him. And what had I got for my trouble? The click-ticker. It was a little hand-sized metal device holding four bone discs with notches on them. Crowe used it for counting, for calculating, and each time a number came up, the device went click-tick.
From inside the room, Nevery said something in a deep growl. He sounded angry.
As I turned away from the keyhole, I realized that the room had a third door.
I went over and crouched down to peer through the ornate keyhole. A man was standing directly opposite the door, shouting at someone else. The man was a white-haired wizard, but not Nevery; he wore a black robe with gold trim and had a locus magicalicus hanging from a gold chain around his neck.
“—without the slowsilver!” he shouted. “I must have another measure of it at least, or—” He lowered his voice and I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, but it sounded deadly, like sharp knives in a dark alley. Scowling, he pointed toward the corner of the room and I heard another door open and slam shut. Then the wizard turned his back and went to a bookcase. He looked around, and then pressed a panel beside the top shelf. The bookcase swung open to reveal a dark doorway. The top of a stairway, I realized. The wizard went down. The bookcase-door stayed open.
What was he up to? Wizardly things, maybe, and as a wizard’s apprentice, I should follow him and find out. Quickly I pulled out my wires and got to work on the lock. It was fancy, but it was a good one, with flanges, studs, and crenellations. Finally—calm breath, quick fingers—I got the wires to click into place and the lock turned over. I eased the door open and peered into the room. Empty.
I crossed the room to the stairway; it gaped like a pit, dark. I went down a few steps and listened, then went farther, down and down, deeper into the darkness. The stairs were narrow and steep, and I kept my hand on the wall to steady myself. At last, I came to a turning. I peered around. Nothing, just the dim outline of another turning ahead, with lights beyond it. I crept down.
When I reached the next turning, I crouched in the darkness on the step and peered around the corner. Quickly, I pulled back. Bright lights, movement, a big space. Too many people down there to go any farther. I heard clanking, the sound of metal hammering on metal, a grinding of gears, a man’s voice, cursing. An acrid smell, like burnt metal, hung in the stairway and prickled in my throat.
I listened for a few more moments, then heard steps coming up from below. Holding my breath, I skiffed up the stairs and out the bookcase-door, then across the room and into the dark room beyond. I swung the door closed and used my lockpick wires to lock it again.
Something was going on. Crowe had a workshop or something down there, and who knew what else. He and this white-haired wizard were up to something, clear as clear. I’d have to figure it out.
But now it was time to get back to the front door.
Quietly, checking the doors as I went, I skiffed back to the hallway, then back to the entryway.
I slithered through the door. Just Benet-the-Muscle at the other end, no sign of Underlord minions. I cat-footed it back down the black shiny stone hallway.
As I coasted up, Benet reached out with one long arm and grabbed me, then gave me a swat across the face. I’d gotten worse, but I wasn’t expecting it, so I went crashing off into the wall, banged the back of my head, and bit my lip.
Benet didn’t say anything, just folded his arms again and stared down at me.
My
ears were ringing from the blow as Nevery and the minion came through the door at the end of the hallway. Tap tap tap went Nevery’s cane on the polished stone floor. I was glad to see him. Not everybody walks out of a meeting with the Underlord. Nevery gave me one of his keen-gleam glances as he came up but didn’t say anything. The minions with him glared at me, but they didn’t say anything, either.
Staying as far from Benet as I could, I followed Nevery as we left Dusk House. From the sound of the wizard’s words with Benet, the meeting had not gone well.
I hoped Nevery knew better than to deal with Crowe. Only one thing ever happened to anybody who crossed the Underlord. And it involved weights and chains and the river on a dark night. Made me shiver just thinking about it.
* * *
From Nevery Flinglas, Wizard to Her Grace, Willa Forestal, Duchess of Wellmet.
Your Grace,
Recently, I was made aware that Wellmet has been suffering from a decline in its level of magic. I decided to visit the city to see if this is true. Since my return from exile—yes, I am here—I have noticed the decay and desolation that, according to my readings on the subject, is characteristic of magical decline. Many houses lie empty and rotting, the streets are desolate, the people listless; the very fabric of the city is unraveling. No doubt, you have magisters working on the problem. They are incompetent fools, as you well know.
I am here; I offer my services. If you will lift the order of exile—if you deem that twenty years banishment is enough—I will put all of my energies into identifying the cause of the magical decline and then act to correct it.
You may send a response with my man, Benet, or send a letter to me at the chophouse on Half-Chick Lane in the Twilight.
Yours sincerely,
NEVERY
Post Script: Willa, if you choose to again force me from the city, I will leave and you may deal with the problem yourself.
From Her Grace, Willa Forestal,
Duchess of Wellmet,
To Nevery Flinglas, Wizard.
Nevery,
I am quite aware of your return. And I readily admit that Wellmet has a problem and that the magisters have done little, or perhaps nothing, to discover what is wrong. As always, I place the city’s needs above my own, and so I am lifting the order of exile. However, one wrong step, Nevery, and I will see you cast out again. No pyrotechnic experiments. Do not try my patience.
On this fourth day of Nonembry,
I am
Duchess Willa Forestal, &c.
Duchess has responded to letter; however, must tread carefully, as she could easily change her mind, have me arrested. Letter from duchess means I can move back into Heartsease. House is surely falling to pieces, but best place for my purposes. Tomorrow, first thing: leave chophouse, put servant boy and Benet to work making place habitable.
Once settled there, must discover magisters’ position.
Likely boy useless as servant. And more trouble than he is worth. His breakfast alone cost four copper locks:
Three biscuits
Bacon
Four eggs
Two cups tea
Cup of milk
Bowl of porridge with:
Butter
Brown sugar
Nuts
An apple
A cold potato
Leftover berry pie
Boy does look better for it, true.
Sent him off to buy paper, pen, and ink. Half expect him to take money and disappear. Might be better for him if he did.
* * *
CHAPTER 3
On the morning of my second day as Nevery’s apprentice, I woke up wrapped in my blanket, snug before the coal fire. My eye hurt a little from the day before, when Benet had thumped me, but it wasn’t too bad. I could still see out of it.
Except for me, the room was empty. I wriggled out of the blanket and headed for the door. Benet and Nevery were probably in the chophouse eating all the bacon. I headed downstairs.
Nevery and Benet were just gathering up their things. Oh, no. Had I missed breakfast? I skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.
The wizard gave me one of his keen looks. Benet ignored me.
“All right, boy,” Nevery said, sitting down again. “Eat quickly. I’ll have another cup of tea.” Then he spoke to Benet. “Pack up the things, and we’ll leave straightaway.” Benet nodded and went off up the stairs.
The chophouse keeper brought stale biscuits from the day before, and some other things. I made a sandwich out of biscuit, jam, and cheese, and took a big bite.
Nevery poured himself more tea. Then he poured me a mug, too, and I took a drink, washing down my bite.
“Where we going?” I asked, and ate more biscuit sandwich.
He didn’t answer right away. He was holding a piece of paper, a letter, which he tapped a few times on the tabletop. Then, “Heartsease.”
I opened my mouth to ask what that was, but he waved me silent. “Just eat, boy. I’ll answer your cursed questions before you ask them.” He drank his tea. “Heartsease is a large mansion on its own island in the river. It is my home, but no one has lived in it for twenty years.”
I opened my mouth to ask another question.
“Don’t ask why it’s been empty that long,” he said. “I ran into some trouble here in Wellmet some time ago, let that be enough.”
That was enough, for now. I nodded and took another bite of my breakfast.
“You may not have noticed,” he went on, “but this city is facing a crisis. The level of magic has been dropping. Only ebbing, for years, but lately, I am told, the level has dropped more precipitously. If it is not stopped, Wellmet will fall into decay.”
“What’re we going to do about it?” I asked.
He raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “We? I am going to demand leadership of Magisters Hall so I can research the problem and then deal with it.” Nevery studied me for a moment. “It could be dangerous.”
Well, I’d already figured that out. The magisters were unchancy enough, and he was dealing with Underlord Crowe, too.
He went on to explain how the balance of power worked in Wellmet. I knew it already but listened and ate while he explained. He got it mostly right. As I see it, the duchess, with help from her elected council, rules the city; she lives in the Dawn Palace on the east side of the river, what people call the Sunrise. Most of the fancy neighborhoods, rich people, and fine shops are over there. Wizards keep it spelled and looking nice. You look like me, you don’t go there in the daytime unless you want to spend some time in one of the duchess’s fancy jail cells.
Then there is the Twilight, on the west side of the river. It’s much smaller than the Sunrise because it’s squeezed in where the river bends. In the Twilight are the mills and factories and warehouses. The Twilight is run by the Underlord. Crowe likes power and money, and he has minions to enforce his orders. He’d kill his own family to get what he wanted. Every thief, bagman, pickpocket, smokehole tavern owner—everyone—pays part of their takings to the Underlord. Kind of like taxes, except that the duchess’s tax collectors don’t bash you with clubs if you can’t pay.
And in the middle of the river that winds through Wellmet are a chain of islands, and these are ruled by the magisters—the wizards.
Most of the time, three powers—magisters, duchess, Underlord—balance one another. All in all, not a bad system. If you live on the Sunrise side of the river.
Nevery was still talking, explaining Wellmet politics, while I finished my biscuit sandwich. I nodded to show him I was listening. As long as he kept talking, I could keep eating. I eyed the biscuits. Maybe one with butter this time. Mmm, and pickle. Sadly, there wasn’t any bacon left.
“Are you paying attention, boy?”
I looked up from my plate. Nevery frowned, like he was about to turn me into a toad. I held my breath.
But then Benet came stomping down the stairs with his arms full of baggage. The wizard got to his feet, picked up his cane
, and put on his wide-brimmed hat. He said to Benet, “Give a few of those to the boy to carry and come along.”
I grabbed my buttered biscuit and went to the stairs to get the baggage from Benet. Ignoring me, he dropped two bags to the floor and followed Nevery from the room.
I looked at the bags: one for each hand. That left no hand for my biscuit. The chophouse door slammed—Nevery and Benet wouldn’t wait for me, sure as sure. I took a big bite and shoved the rest of the biscuit into my pocket, picked up the bags—what did he have in there, rocks?—and ran out to the street.
Chewing, bag-dragging, I raced after Nevery and Benet. They turned a corner, and I had to run to catch up, headlong down Strangle Street, the bags bumping against my legs. It felt as though there was a big hand at my back, pushing me to catch up. With me panting after, we hurried through the Twilight. The air stank of open sewers and coal smoke and, as we got closer to the river, of dead fish and mud.
Nevery followed Shirttail Street down the hill until we got to the river, which might have a real name, but mostly people just called it the river. Here was the Night Bridge, which led over the river to the Sunrise, the duchess’s part of the city.
The Night Bridge had houses built on it that looked like fat ladies hitching up their skirts as they crossed a brook. The brook, of course, was the river, and it roared beneath the ladies’ skirts as it rushed along.
Nevery led the way onto the dark roadway between the tall houses. Halfway across the bridge, he turned down a narrow passageway between buildings.
Still lugging the bags, I followed Nevery and Benet down a covered stairway. I figured we’d come to the river, but we didn’t; the stairs kept going down, ending at an arched stone tunnel.
Which led, I realized, to the magisters’ islands in the middle of the river. A secret way! The tunnel was dark and smelled damp and fishy, like the river, and the stone-slabbed floor was wet and cold under my bare feet. Nevery held up his locus magicalicus and whispered a word, and his hand, holding the stone, burst into blue flame. I followed Nevery’s flaming hand, which made shadows stalk along the arched stone walls. His cane made a muffled tap tap as we went along. After a short while we came to an iron gate that stretched across the passageway. Nevery spoke a few quiet, echoey words. The locus magicalicus sparked white for a moment, extended a finger of flame to the lock, and the gate clicked open.
The Magic Thief Page 2
