The Questing Game f-2

by James Galloway

  "It did at that," he chuckled in agreement. "Whatever happened to Duran and Lassiter?"

  "Duran was killed last year," she said with a little sigh. "Lassiter works for the House Artep now."

  "Pity," he said. "From what I heard, your employer hasn't changed. And if you're here, then she's here."

  "Ah, but I was never here," Miranda told him with one of her devastatingly cute grins.

  "You see what I had to fight against," Jander said to Tarrin. "The woman is a terror. And she was even worse when she was a young girl."

  "I don't find her that terrorizing," Tarrin said absently. "Just scratch her behind the ears from time to time, and she'll follow you around like a puppy."

  Miranda smacked him on the arm, and Jander laughed. "You don't have to hide in here, Tarrin," he said. "I'm sure you realize that I know who and what you are. But you'd better stay hidden outside."

  "Why is that, Jander?" Miranda asked seriously.

  "It's just one of the things going on around here," he said soberly, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure you noticed the military presence."

  "King Rathbonne is flexing his muscles?" Miranda asked.

  "Hardly. The southern Free Duchies have entered into a military alliance, and Tor is their target. Rathbonne is mustering his army to fend them off."

  "An alliance? They'd attack each other as soon as their armies came onto the same field," Miranda scoffed.

  "Believe it or not, they're working together," Jander said grimly. "And it's all over a rumor that the Firestaff was hidden somewhere in the ruins of Old Tor. Rathbonne has half his army here, and the other half is turning his kingdom upside-down and shaking it to see if it falls out."

  "A war, over a rumor?" Miranda asked incredulously.

  "This particular rumor had some basis in old historical documents," he replied. "I think the Firestaff was probably kept in ancient Tor at one time, but it was moved long ago."

  "That's ludicrous," Miranda grunted. "You don't start a war over a rumor."

  "When it's anything about the Firestaff, rumor is usually enough," Jander said. "Right now, Sulasia and Daltochan are fighting it out south of the forests over the rumor that the Firestaff is being secretly held in the Tower of Six Spires. Draconia joined Daltochan against Sulasia, and that immediately brought Tykarthia into it on Sulasia's side."

  "South of the forests?" Tarrin asked intently. "Where exactly?"

  "From what I've heard so far, Daltochan owns all of northeast Sulasia," he replied. "They were trying to capture Ultern, the last my reports said. Marta's Ford, Two Forks, Arrigon, Torrian, they're all occupied by Dal forces. What makes that so bad is that the Dals seem to have entered pacts with some Goblinoid tribes," he said grimly. "There are Bruga, Waern, and Dargu running around up there wearing Dal livery, and you know how they are. I'm glad I don't live in occupied Sulasia right now."

  Miranda put a hand on Tarrin's elbow, and he jumped slightly. The very thought of Dargu or Waern occupying Aldreth made him want to jump up and ride home to kick them out. They were his friends, his people, and they were probably suffering terribly under the cruel yoke of the Dal invaders and their Goblinoid allies. He had no idea he had lost his concentration, and Miranda's touch brought a throbbing ache through his body as the pain of holding the human form reasserted itself in his mind. Breathing a few times to center himself again, he forced the pain away from him, back into the depths of his consciousness, where it couldn't distract him from the situation at hand.

  "Have the Sorcerers stepped in yet?" Miranda asked.

  "They can't yet," he replied. "They can't intervene, or they won't, until the invaders threaten Suld. But right now there's chaos in Suld."

  "Why is that?"

  "King Erick Aralon is dead," he said bluntly. "He died last month of a fever. His wife, Amerine, gave birth to an heir about two days before he died, and she's declared herself regent until he's old enough to assume the throne."

  "Did the Sulasian houses accept that?" Miranda asked.

  "It looks like they have," he replied. "Erick was an incompetent dolt, but Amerine is sharp and very skilled. She's already made the very smart move of appointing Duke Arren of Torrian as general of her armies, and that made the Dal army grind to a halt at Ultern. Appointing Arren was the smartest thing she could have done. The noble houses realize that they need some stability right now, and Amerine can supply it, so they've thrown their lots in with her."

  "Ugly," Miranda sighed. "What is the Wikuni position in the war?"

  "We have none, as usual," he replied. "Damon Eram doesn't support either side."

  "Typical," she said critically. "What else is going on?"

  "Just the usual degeneration of the world into unbridled chaos," he grunted. "Wars have flared up all over the world, and it's all over the Firestaff. Even the most wildly insubstantiated belief that it rests in one kingdom gives all its neighbors enough motivation to invade it. Even Sharadar was invaded, believe it or not. Stygia tried to invade across the Inner Sea, but it ended as disastrously as every other Stygian attempt to invade Sharadar."

  "Why is that?" Tarrin asked curiously, trying to shunt aside his fears for Sulasia.

  "The Sulasian Tower doesn't work with the kingdom," Jander told him. "The Sharadite Tower is the kingdom. Sharadar is ruled by a Sorceress, Alexis Firehair. Stygia got their usual butt-stomping by the Sharadite Tower when they landed their marines on Sharadar's northern coast."

  "How could they do that?" he asked.

  "Tarrin, the Sulasian Tower has a thousand Sorcerers at the most," Miranda told him. "The Tower in Sharadar has tens of thousands of Sorcerers among its number, and that doesn't even count the priests and arcane mages also living in the kingdom, attracted there by the receptive nature of Sharadar to magic and learning. They have a literal army of magicians. Few armies can stand up to that for long."

  "I guess not," he agreed after a moment.

  "So, the world has become a keg of gunpowder with a lit fuse," Miranda summed up.

  "More or less. As to local matters, I suggest you keep a low profile, and I heavily suggest you don't go out alone, Tarrin."

  "Why is that, Jander?"

  "There's been a rash of pet murders, Miranda," Jander said seriously. "Someone's been going around and killing cats with silver-tipped arrows."

  The importance of that wasn't lost on Tarrin. Someone thought he was here, and they were trying to kill him. It wasn't much of a surprise, but it seemed a little bit of a surprise in that it was the first time in a long while he was certain that people were out to get him, people who knew exactly who and what he was, and how to best eliminate him.

  "You can't find a cat anywhere in Tor, and the rat population has absolutely exploded as a result," Jander said sourly. "I even found one in my bed a few days ago. The people who own the cats that are still alive won't let them out. There's been no absolute proof, but it looks like the kii'zadun is behind it. A group of men arrived here last month and hired every cutthroat and thief they could find, with orders to kill any cat-like Wikuni they found. Needless to say, tensions among our own people are very high right now, because they're still out there. The idea of killing cats seems like a logical next step, and is probably being done by the same group."

  "Maybe. Whoever ordered it certainly knows Tarrin," Miranda said thoughtfully. "Or knows about him."

  "Half the world knows about you now, kid," Jander told him seriously. "Your description has been floated around for nearly four months."

  "What do they say about him?"

  "Only that he's the Tower's horse," Jander replied. "Since they know so much about the Firestaff, half the world wants to kill you to keep you from finding it, and the other half wants to either capture you or follow you so you can lead them to it."

  Tarrin was quiet and very sober. It was nothing really new, just confirmation of what he and Dolanna had quietly feared would happen.

  "The kii'zadun has gotten maniacal about killing him, though,
" Jander added, looking at Tarrin. "I think they hold you personally responsible for what happened in Suld. There's a ten thousand crown price on your head." He leaned back in his chair. "They've hired most of the thugs and murderers in Tor, and they're all looking for you, the Selani, and the Princess. I suggest all of you stay out of sight."

  "I'll see to that, Jander," Miranda said professionally. "Is Damon Eram still chasing us?"

  He nodded. "That hasn't changed. He's even ordered the private ships of the nobles to hunt for her, but they don't know where she is now. They caught the Star of Jerod and searched it, but she wasn't there. The captain told them he'd put you all off in Dayise, so they're back at the beginning. With all the ships that leave Dayise, you could be anywhere." He chuckled. "And now she's in my backyard. I'm sure you realize how much trouble I can get into if they find out I know she's here, but didn't tell anyone."

  "You enjoy the danger," Miranda said with a cheeky grin. "Besides, you'll be in even more danger if you blab. I still have those scissors."

  Jander chuckled and winked at the mink Wikuni.

  "They didn't hurt Kern, did they?" Tarrin asked in concern.

  "The captain? Of course not," he replied. "They have orders to find the Princess, not sink every ship they cross. I'm sure the King isn't too happy that this Kern transported her, but then again, he probably had no idea who he had on board until it was too late. I certainly wouldn't take on such a dangerous passenger willingly."

  "That's a relief," Tarrin sighed. Kern wasn't exactly a friend, but he had been a solid man, and Tarrin respected him. He didn't want to see anything bad befall him because of the fact that he had taken them to Dayise.

  "I think that's about it," Miranda said. "How is life behind a desk suiting you, Jander?" she asked curiously.

  "It's not as exciting as the Service, but it has its moments," he replied. "Instead of skulking around with a dagger, now I play wordgames and diplomatic chess with Torian lackeys."

  "Sounds safer."

  "It is, but it's still not quite as fun as the Service. Before, we kept score by staying alive. Here, it's more a contest of reputation, rumor, and hearsay."

  "You can keep it," Miranda said calmly.

  "Why don't you come join me?" he asked. "I still have a place open in my staff for you."

  "I'm sure it also includes a place in your bed," Miranda winked.

  "Well, I'm sure you wouldn't find the idea to be repulsive," he said calmly.

  "I was never meant to settle down, Jander," she told him with a gentle smile. "In a way, I'm already married. It's just to my job."

  "Ah well, one can always try," he sighed, then he stood up. "I think the two of you had best get back to where you belong. If I stay in closed doors with strangers too long, certain people may get curious, and I'm sure that's something you'd prefer to avoid."

  "No doubt there," Miranda said as she stood. Jander escorted them to the door, where he took Miranda's hands and gave her a lick on the cheek. "You keep yourself well, Miranda."

  "I always do, Jander," she replied, patting him on the cheek.

  "What was that all about?" Tarrin finally asked after they had left the building.

  "Jander has a crush on me," she replied matter-of-factly, almost as if she were discussing the weather. "I used to use that against him, back when he worked for Damon Eram."

  "That's mean, Miranda, playing with his affection like that."

  "I told you once before, Tarrin, I'm not a nice girl," she told him with a wink. "In my line of work, love is a weakness to be exploited. I'm not about to ignore such an available opportunity."

  "Sounds lonely."

  "It can be, but the rewards do occasionally make up for it," she told him.

  "How far did you have to go to do your job?" he asked in a hesitant curiosity.

  "Are you working around to asking me if I had to flip my skirt?" she asked, then she laughed. "Sometimes I forget how naive you are, Tarrin. I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking. Sometimes luring a mark into bed was part of what had to be done to get information. And it's not an entirely unpleasant thing to do, you know. The right mark can make it very entertaining."

  Tarrin blushed, and looked away from her. That made her laugh harder.

  "Come on, admit it. I know you're not as pure as you're trying to make me believe. That Were-cat blood of yours runs even hotter than ours. I've heard yours and Allia's little discussions about that."

  "You're impossible."

  "No, I'm just not embarassed," she retorted, jabbing him in the ribs. "I heard you and Jesmind had quite the emphatic relationship. When you weren't trying to kill each other, you were-"

  Tarrin poked her in the belly, just hard enough to make her cut her statement short. "What me and Jesmind did is no concern of yours," he said primly.

  "True," she admitted, "but neither of us are the angels you want to make of us. I'll promise not to be shocked that you're not pristine, if you promise not to be shocked that I'm not either."

  Tarrin looked at her, then he laughed helplessly. "I'm not used to this from you," he said.

  "You've never asked before."

  "You've just totally destroyed my vision of you," Tarrin teased.

  "Sure I did," she said scathingly.

  Tarrin laughed again. "Well, I guess I can agree to that. But I don't think I want to know any of the details."

  "Come now, Tarrin, I'm not about to spend days going over my numerous affairs and conquests with you," she grinned. "I demand reciprocation when I do that, so you only have enough stock for one lurid tale. And I just gave that one to you."

  "Lurid? There was nothing lurid in that."

  "I'll just have to give you lurid, then," she winked. "A garment by garment account of the first time I seduced Jander."

  "I think I'll pass."

  "Too late," she teased. "Now you're going to hear it, whether you want to or not."

  "Not today," he said, then he lunged forward and started running away from her.

  "Tarrin!" she called in surprise, picking up her skirts and running after him. "This is not funny! My big sister will kill you if you leave me alone!"

  That was about the only thing that reminded him of where they were and what their position was. He slowed to a stop and let her catch up to him. Being playful was all well and good, but they were in a town which was full of potential enemies. And what was worse, he just made Miranda shout out his name, which was probably heard by half the other people on the street. He berated himself for his carelessness as she reached him, giving her a pained look.

  "I just messed up," he said with sincere chagrin. "I'm sorry."

  "I did too," she said with a wince. "I called for you out of surprise. I know better than that. A first mission rookie wouldn't have made such a stupid blunder. Right now, we need to get back to the ship without attracting any attention to ourselves, and making damn good and sure nobody is following us."

  "I think that's a really, really good idea," he said, taking her arm after she offered it to him.

  Miranda didn't know the streets of Tor very well, and neither did Tarrin. They meandered almost aimlessly while keeping the docks in view, which sat at the bottom of the shallow depression in which the city sat and were visible from almost anywhere in the city, to mark their progress as they moved towards them in their roundabout pattern. Tarrin didn't really feel all that much fear or trepidation at what they were doing, but his mind was clearly focused on the task at hand, and his eyes searched the other pedestrians to see if they seemed hostile, or seemed to recognize the pair. Miranda was the one who kept watch for anyone that may be following them.

  After nearly half an hour of zigzagging through the streets of Tor, Miranda pulled them into a narrow alley between two warehouses near the docks. The alley was strewn with empty wooden crates and other refuse, some of it not smelling very pleasant. "Come on, now we hide and see if someone comes looking for us," she whispered to him as they retreated down the alley. Mir
anda silently cursed as they reached a corner of it, and found a stone wall blocking the alley some paces away. The alley only had one entrance. "Hide," she said, ducking behind a stack of crates near that corner. The crates were old and rickety, and they had wide areas between the slats that would let someone look through them to see what was inside. In this case, they let Tarrin and Miranda look up the alley with them blocking anyone from seeing them, for the alley's gloom made the crates' interiors dark.

  They waited in tense silence for nearly ten minutes, until a single lean man appeared at the end of the alley and stopped. He was thin and wiry, rather tall, with greasy black hair and olive-colored skin that marked him as Torian. He had a shortsword in his hand. Another man appeared, then another, then another, and they kept appearing at the end of the alley, until nearly twenty men, all armed, blocked off the entrance to the alleyway. From the lighting and the way the swords reflected it, Tarrin figured that they were either highly polished, or they were silvered. He doubted such ruffians would take such care of their weapons, so he decided grimly that the weapons were silvered.

  Twenty men blocked off their escape, all of them holding weapons that could deal him real injury, and Tarrin was unarmed. But the alley was very narrow, only about eight spans wide, and it would prevent any more than two of them from threatening them at any one time. Tarrin weighed the options quickly. Sorcery was an option, but the Goddess' warning reminded him that he'd have to change form to try that. He may have his regeneration in human form, but not his Were-cat body's power and resistance. Just like when Sheba attacked, he thought if he could use it quickly, maintain contact for an absolute bare minimum of time, he may be able to get them out without endangering himself.

  That seemed to be the best course of action. There were too many to fight, even for him. He may have his Were-cat speed and power, but those were silvered weapons, and he could take no chances that a lucky stroke would put him down. He had to protect Miranda. Stepping back from her, he closed his eyes and changed form, feeling the ache vanish as his body returned to its natural state. Staying behind the crates, as Miranda looked on, Tarrin reached out for the Weave-