“Yes,” I answered. “Let’s.”
The three of us entered the last tent. Behind the silks was our victory or our death. I cocked my Patterson and led the way.
Nathaniel
This time we were on the attack with my son leading the charge, me trying to get in front, and my apprentice on our flank. This tent was enormous and near-blinding in its brightness. In the distance, I saw a large collection of pillows and lithe figures. I presumed that whatever was at the end of this palace of silks had an impressive harem. What an odd life these Turks lead. I’d give a hundred beautiful women for my lost one, and it’d be the greatest barter ever sealed.
The guards came on as a pack, Eshu with some commoner Xi. The commoners lacked the shapeshifting powers of the noble Dwellers. They were, however, able to create small illusions, doubles of themselves. Jonas already wasted one bullet firing through one of them.
“Jonas, look carefully. If they sparkle, it’s a mirage.”
“Not so easy, Pop,” he said, but his next shot pierced a Xi guard’s chest.
I saw Hendricks draw the runes for lightning in the air, and a bolt flashed from his fingertips. It struck one guard and arced to another, knocking them both to the ground and fading them across the Veil. It was a clever interpretation of a basic spell, one he must’ve discovered on his own. Well done, apprentice, well done.
I conjured a wall of ice, floated it in the air, and brought it down on a trio of Eshu. I couldn’t tell if they faded away, but it would hold them. The Earth energy beneath me was free to tap, and I drew in as much as I could. Archers in the rear fired on us, but I took control of the wood shafts and sent them back to their owners. With a whispered word, great roots and vines—things that hadn’t seen the sun in time incalculable—burst from the sand and grappled the guards in their thorny vice. They squeezed, the guards screamed, and then they disappeared.
Still the guards outnumbered us. Jonas called for another reload, and I put a wall of solid air before him. Hendricks was fighting well, but I could sense his powers starting to fade. Two Eshu morphed into scorpions and advanced on him.
“Hendricks,” I called. He backed away from the creatures and took the moment to look my way. I tossed him the Watchmage’s Cane.
His pupils turned white as the power coursed through him, more power than I’d ever seen a mageling control. He pointed the cane and unleashed a bolt of Chaos that ripped through a line of Eshu and the tent wall beyond. Hendricks split the ray, and three lines struck other guards. The rest facing him took a hasty retreat.
It stunned me. A mageling channeling Chaos? Even with the Watchmage’s Cane, Hendricks shouldn’t be able to focus those magicks. Yet here he was, loosing Chaos bolts at the enemy.
Hendricks passed the cane back to me. “This is too much. It’s…too much.”
There was something odd about him. Perhaps it was my influence and training. No, there’s something about him that fits no mold. He deserved more attention than I’d given him.
Beshir stepped forward. He raised his sword and pointed at me. “We must finish what we began.” His scimitar glowed white as he approached, ready to sever my soul from body. “I will send you through the Veil.”
His words sent my memories back to the Veil. His words gave me the answer. “Advance then, my dusty friend, and we shall end this.”
He spun his blade and shuffle-stepped forward. I gave ground, parrying his rapid strikes with my cane and dodging what I couldn’t block. I filled my body with Aether energy, waiting for my moment.
He slashed high and from my left. I stepped in with a downward block, reversed the motion, and touched him on the head with the cane’s handle. As soon as metal struck skin, I shouted a phrase and released the Aether. It coursed through the cane and pierced Beshir’s mind.
Veil Dwellers are very resistant to mental attacks. I couldn’t shut down his mind or put him to sleep. Only days of onslaught would let me probe his thoughts and memories.
But I could give him mine.
I shared what I saw in the Veil, the emptiness, the despair, and the love forever waiting for me. It was something an immortal like him could never understand. How could someone that lives forever imagine a world without himself?
He staggered back, stunned, leaving himself open. I slashed down on his sword hand with my cane. He lowered his sword, and I crouched, lining up for a final strike. One, two, three jabs to his solar plexus. He dropped to one knee, gasping for breath. I stepped back and loosed a bolt of Chaos into his chest, as powerful as any I had ever conjured. He flew backwards and skidded along the sand. Smoke rose from his chest, and his sword landed at my feet.
“That is enough, Watchmage,” boomed a voice from beyond. It was like a steam engine exploding, a voice that was used to obedience or eruption. “Come closer and present yourself.”
I found my legs moving of their own accord. I looked to my sides. Jonas and Hendricks were similarly compelled.
“You are far from home, Watchmage.” A great smoky shadow approached us. It reddened and took a solid form. I despaired.
The creature was over ten feet tall and as broad as an Ogre, with skin smooth and black. Glowing molten stone outlined its muscles. Its hair was tangled flame, its eyes like lava pools, its face like chiseled onyx. In one great hand was Stewart Vanderlay.
Elemental creatures are queer. Usually the summons to our world drives them to lunacy, but there are some that are strong enough of body and will to overcome the madness. They grow in power, transforming into something beyond what they once were. I have met two while helping Master Sol form a tenuous truce between them. Sailors on the Hudson know them as the Storm King and the Spitting Devil, a Water Elemental—or Aquiis—and an Air Elemental—or Strathorat— respectively.
Those that were once Fire Elementals are called Efriit.
“Why have you come to the realm of Abdrahim uninvited?” the Efriit boomed.
I tried to gain my composure, but being in the sight of such a creature set my insides on edge. “You have a stolen child, a citizen of New York.”
“Stolen?” said the presumed Abdrahim. “You do not understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“The boy is my son.”
“What?” shouted Jonas, finding the strength to speak.
“I do not have to explain myself in my own realm or any realm, but out of respect for your Star of Nine, I will do so.” His body wavered and shifted, once again becoming smoke. The figure shrunk until he was no bigger than I, and features began to form. When it was over, Abdrahim was a magnificently handsome man: swarthy skin, aquiline nose, ebony eyes that twinkled with power. He was dressed in fine robes of silk, and wore a checkered turban. “This was the form I wore when I met the lady’s barter in the bazaar,” he said.
“The Coat of Many Colors,” I said. Hendricks gasped. I realized that this was the first he had heard mention of the ancient relic.
“Twas nothing more than a trinket to me, but it was the sun and stars to her. I traded it for a few moments of passion. She was more than willing. She carried and birthed my son. My men,” he gestured to the remaining Eshu, “came to your city to claim him.”
“He belongs to the Vanderlays, not you,” said Jonas.
“No, human. He is my son, the part of the barter she did not expect. Barter met is barter sealed. A son belongs with his father. He is not part of your world, he is part of ours.”
“Bugger tha—”
I sensed Jonas tense, like he was going to raise his pistol. I held up my hand to ward him off. “He’s right, Jonas.”
“What?”
“Stewart Vanderlay is half Efriit. Someday he might learn to control his powers, but not without his father to teach him. Left with the Vanderlays, he would destroy Harlem, New York, and everything in between. He needs his father.”
“So he gets away unpunished?” Jonas’ hands went in the air. I felt the rage coming from him. “What about Molly Hyde? She d
eserves justice.”
“You are far from your city,” Abdrahim said. “You have no power here. I apologize for any damage that my servants did in retrieving my son. However, you have more than equaled it here.”
What do you do when the Law is wrong? How do you defend the indefensible? For too long I let a body of laws be my compass instead of my own soul. But the soul and body are not one. The body is fallible. The Law is wrong.
I cleared my throat. “The mageling, McGuirk, murdered a young woman. He must face the Star of Nine.”
“Agreed,” said Abdrahim.
I looked around at the remaining Dwellers. “To seal this masquerade, I need a child to bring to the Vanderlays. Without one, they will never rest. They are quite wealthy, have many contacts, and no scruples.”
“What do you propose?”
“One of your servants can pose as the child. One human childhood is not so long for an immortal. After twenty or so years, he can return to you.”
“This is a bold barter you offer me,” said Abdrahim. “I need give you nothing.”
“If it pleases you, my Pasha, might I speak?” I heard Beshir’s voice behind me, and my Chaos Seed bloomed. I faced him. My fingers tingled and shoulders squared.
“You may speak, my most favored servant.”
Beshir dropped to both knees. His body was bruised and battered. It stunned me that he could move at all.
“My Pasha, please allow your humble servant to go with this wizard and take your son’s place.”
Abdrahim rubbed his chin. “This is no small duty. You will be gone until the boy becomes a man. You have wives and children yourself.”
“They will understand,” Beshir said. “Tell them that I am serving my Pasha, as they will someday do, as we all do.”
Pasha Abdrahim stood in silence for some time. Even in his human guise, great waves of heat rolled off of him. “Your wish is granted, Beshir. You will take the place of my son among the humans. A great feast will be held upon your return, and I will shower you with gifts of silver and gold.”
“My thanks, great Pasha.”
“And the mageling?” I asked.
“Barter met is barter sealed. Take him.”
Jonas nodded in satisfaction. I knew that he wasn’t happy with the situation, but there was no other choice. Justice runs a crooked path. Would it be justice to take the child from his father and return him to his mother? Would it be justice to allow a magical creature to mature where his own nature might drive him mad? I’m still young in the eyes of immortals, but I’m old enough to see folly.
I knew then that I wouldn’t report the misdeeds of my magelings. It was my leniency that led them astray. They deserved a second chance, this time with my eyes upon them. Let the Star of Nine judge me as they will.
Jonas, Hendricks and I gathered up Shadow McGuirk, and together with Beshir, we left the Pasha’s chambers. We slipped through the portal, and returned to the world I knew.
I turned us invisible before passing through and we slipped by the crowd that gathered around the wrecked hotel wall. I wasn’t concerned with the damage. The Astors had more money than I could count and would likely use the damage as an excuse to renovate.
We left Astor House and stepped onto Broadway. Street cleaners were brushing away the last of the rubbish from the parade. The smell of horse and cow feces were a normal part of life in the city, but the camels and elephants were an unexpected misfortune.
“I expect no trouble from you,” I said to Beshir. “Our feud is ended.”
Beshir nodded. “Our feud is ended. You defeated me fairly, wizard,” he said. “I feel I know you too well now. How could I fight a man when I’ve seen his soul?”
“You’ve made quite the sacrifice for your Pasha. I admire you.”
“I love my Pasha, and would do anything for one that I love. Would you not do the same?”
I looked at my son and my apprentice, and then took a long look down Broadway. “You know the answer.”
Jonas
“This is awkward. I’ve never held a baby before.”
The Vanderlay baby, or should I say the Dweller posing as the Vanderlay baby, refused to stay still. I expected him to act like a grown man, but he squirmed like a brat.
Jim reached for the baby. “It’s the train, I’m sure. Give me the babe, I know how to handle them. Got a flock of my own.”
“I know. I hear them through the floor.” I handed him over as if he would break. Why was I even worried? He’s an immortal warrior that locked horns with Pop and somehow survived.
It occurred to me then that this poor fella was in a world he’d never even imagined. Turks ride camels, not the rail-road. He’d never breathed coal smoke or heard a train whistle. He’d never seen a snowflake. A man like that, so far from home, who knows what he could do? I’ve seen Turkish sailors drink till they’re blind. I’ve seen them lost in houses along Corlear’s Hook, where the hookers take them for all they’re worth and more. I hoped that Pop knew what he was doing when he agreed to the Pasha’s bargain.
Even in Jim’s lap, the baby refused to sit still. Once or twice he kicked Jim in the chest. Jim soon gave the boy back to me.
“I should get your story before we reach the Vanderlays. I want to know everything.” Jim pulled a pencil and paper and leaned it on an old book.
Of course, I couldn’t tell him everything. Luckily, life at University taught me how to lie. Damn it, I could’ve taught a course.
“I knew from the start that this was a dangerous man, a true killer,” I began. “The Vanderlay’s nursemaid was assaulted during the kidnapping, and she later died of her wounds. I found the culprit on the docks, a rogue named Shadow McGuirk. He tried to escape on a steamer and fanned his barker at the alongshoremen to distract me. The bastard almost killed three of them. I gave him a bunch of fives to the sniffer and took the baby back. When he came after me, I shot him, and he fell into the river. His body’s likely halfway to Rockaway.”
Jim scribbled faster than any man I’d ever seen. Even the bumpy ride didn’t stop him. “An astounding story, one the Tribune’ll buy and beg for more. Every newsboy in the city’ll be calling it out. They’ll fight for the right to do it. I’ll be bigger than Buntline if I keep writing about you, and you, you’ll be the most famous leathe—I mean, Muni, in Manhattan. Did you have help from any others? Is there anyone else I can talk to?”
“No, just me. All it took was hard work, and my own intuition. A good policeman knows.” I felt bad for leaving out Pop and Hendricks, but I’d feel worse if I spilled their secret.
We spent the remainder of the ride discussing the kidnapping and police work in general. I invited him to the Vanderlay estate. After how the Vanderlays criticized the Munis in the papers, I wanted to make sure that the city knew that we succeeded. Besides that, I wanted them to know who it was. Wouldn’t that be a thumb in Roundsman Leary’s eye?
We reached Riverview, the Vanderlay’s estate. Of course the gate was locked. I called for the gatekeeper, who grumbled all the way to the gate. His clothes were clean, but too thin for November.
“You’re the Muni,” said the gatekeeper. “Is that young Master Stewart?”
“You don’t recognize him?”
He fumbled with the gate key and shivered from the chill air. “I’ve never seen him. I wouldn’t know him from Adam.” He swung the gate open for us. “I believe you know the way, officer. I’ll be in the gatehouse, trying not to freeze.”
Jim and I walked along the broad path that led to the manse. I knocked with the large brass knocker attached to the door. After a time, the door swung open, and their gangly, sour butler answered.
“You’ve found young Master Stewart. How wonderful.” His voice was level, lacking the enthusiasm that I expected. “Please enter. I will call the Mister and Missus.”
He led us into the entry hall, told us to wait, and climbed the stairs as if his shoes were made of lead.
Jim looked around at the tapes
tries and huge chandelier. “God’s wounds, I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like Versailles in New York.” He began writing on his papers again.
“They think they’re royals, and someday they’re going to lose their heads,” I said. Jim looked up at me. “Not actually.”
Jim nodded. “I hope not, but there are some rumbles. You know how it gets. Rioters burning down mansions have happened more than once. How many times did they burn down Arthur Tappan’s house? And he’s a God-fearing man.”
“Fearing God is fine, fearing Man is better. Here come the Vanderlays now.”
Missus Vanderlay just about tumbled down the steps in her haste. The Mister followed behind, but in a slower, more dignified gait. A man like that never rushes. He’d choose death before incivility.
“My baby!” cried Missus Vanderlay. She rushed to me and pulled the baby from my arms. I was happy to be rid of him. Holding the Dweller like that gave me the shivers. “Thank you so much, Officer…I forgot your name.”
“Hood,” I said. “Jonas Hood. Nathaniel’s son.”
“Yes, thank you Officer Hood,” said Mister Vanderlay as he joined us. “Who is this?” he said, gesturing to Jim.
Jim stuck his pencil behind his ear and held out his hand. “Jim Appleton, of the Tribune. Your plight has had the entire city worried for poor baby Stewart. I’m here to report on the joyful reunion.” He reached for his pencil and returned to his scribbling. “Joyful reunion…I like that.”
Vanderlay frowned at me. “You brought a paper man?”
I nodded, comfortable in Vanderlay’s discomfort.
Vanderlay scoffed. For a month of moments, there was no sound beyond the cooing of the baby and the scratching of pencil on paper.
“Mister Appleton, you have your story, please leave.” Vanderlay called for the butler, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The butler opened the front door.
“That’s rather rude. Are you sure that you want to paint yourself in such a portrait?” asked Jim.
“My portrait and those of my ancestors line the walls of my house. My descendants’ portraits shall join them. They will survive whatever your paper says.” Vanderlay set his teeth, and the Missus bit her lower lip. “The exit is behind you.”
The Watchmage of Old New York (The Watchmage Chronicles Book 1) Page 21
