Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2)

by Hans Cummings

  “By all means, have a seat.” Pancras regarded the Golden Slayer in the common room of the Granite Anvil. What does the archmage want now? “Do you always keep your helmet on when walking around town?”

  “There are men foolish enough to assume all women are prey in this part of town, particularly if they appear to be foreigners.” She adjusted her helm and then placed her hands in front of her on the table. “I have assigned myself as the slayer who will accompany you to Vlorey, and I know a faster way than taking the roads.”

  Pancras rubbed his right horn and held his goblet up for a refill. “You? Why?”

  “I have business there, so it is a matter of convenience.”

  “So what’s this other way?” Edric drained his mug and slammed it on the table.

  “Due east… well, east and slightly south.” She unrolled a map onto the table and traced a route with her finger. “Past Curton, to Cliffport. Buy passage on a trading vessel and sail up the coast. Much faster than horses.”

  Pancras noticed the color drain from Edric’s face.

  “I ain’t getting on no ship.”

  With the trouble they had convincing him to ford a river on horseback, Pancras didn’t want to contemplate how they’d coax the dwarf onto a ship. That, however, was a challenge they would address later.

  “I don’t really need an escort. The spell—”

  “The archmage has issued a decree. It’s not your place to challenge it.” Gisella rolled up her map. “Besides, what I said was true. I have business in Vlorey. There’s no reason not to travel together.”

  The dwarf pointed at Curton’s marker on the map. “Dwegerthon’s near there, I reckon. Have you heard anything about the dwarf-folk there?”

  Gisella tore her eyes away from Pancras for a moment to shake her head. “Little of import—”

  “What if I don’t like you?” He had no real opinion about the woman, but he disliked being under control of a compulsory enchantment. He liked it even less that the archmage added insult to injury and employed the slayer as escort to guarantee he’d arrive at his end destination.

  Gisella reached over and patted his hand. “You’re only saying that because you don’t know me.”

  Sighing, Pancras rubbed his eyes and resigned himself to traveling with Gisella as his escort. Things always become worse before they improve.

  Chapter 7

  Delilah stomped into the inn’s common room, stopping short when she saw the Golden Slayer sitting with Pancras and Edric. She hoped to catch Pancras alone. He perked up when he saw her and gestured for her to join them. Delilah girded herself and pulled up a chair.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I have a list of things you need to bring with you tomorrow when you report to the archmage.” Gisella reached into her pouch and pulled out a scrap of parchment. She passed it to Delilah.

  She looked it over, thankful she spent so much time while traveling to learn the common trade language. The list seemed innocuous enough: a quill pen and ink, a codex of blank pages, a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle, a sharp knife suitable for chopping, and an object to be attuned into an arcane focus. The list provided quite a lot of detail on the last item. Either a staff or stick to be used as a wand, a trinket to be made into an amulet, or affixed to a larger object.

  “I already have an arcane focus. Where am I supposed to get this stuff?” She handed the list to Pancras. Delilah had no money; to this point, Pancras handled all the expenses.

  “I’m sure there are shops that sell these things. I’ll leave my mortar and pestle with you, if you like. I can replace it when we arrive in Vlorey.” He passed the list back to Delilah.

  “She should buy her own. She’ll make a better impression on the potions master with new equipment. She can be very finicky.”

  Edric pushed himself away from the table. “I’m going to see what’s around. Don’t leave without me.”

  Pancras looked up. “Not to worry.”

  “So, he’s going with you?” Delilah figured the dwarf would stay in Muncifer, since it used to be a dwarven city.

  “Yes, he says it reminds him too much of home to stay here.”

  Delilah looked over the list again. She furrowed her brow as she tried to guess how much each item might cost. The worry must have shown on her face.

  “It’s just for a little while, Delilah. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have enough money to get you started.” He looked at Gisella. “Students still receive a stipend, yes?”

  “It’s not much, but if you take your meals at the university and live there, it’ll be enough to get by.”

  It was not an ideal situation. At least if I live alone, I won’t have to put up with that other drak. Her thoughts turned to ways of evading slayers like Gisella. If I flee into the mountains, they might not follow, not with all the local trouble with giants. Maybe Kale and I can find a drak village on the other side. I’ll bet they don’t send slayers into the Western Wastes.

  “Delilah?”

  She realized Pancras had spoken to her. She looked up at him as he tapped his finger on the table gain her attention. “Go retrieve your things, and we’ll see about shopping for those items on the list. You will have a busy day tomorrow.”

  Gisella nodded in agreement. “The first few days will be constant, but they should slow down a bit after your Initiate Trials.”

  Delilah’s lip curled. “If he ever lets me take them.” She had no expectation of fair treatment. She perceived Manless would hold her back and have her perform meaningless, pointless, degrading tasks until she escaped or died doing them.

  “All trials are scheduled and frequent. He won’t be able to stop you, not with the whole university watching a new drak student. Once you earn your novice’s robes, you’ll have a bit of autonomy.”

  “He’s going to be watching me like a hawk!”

  “He’s the archmage.” Gisella offered her a smile. “He’ll be too busy to give you that kind of personal attention all the time.”

  “If he does, he’s neglecting his duties as archmage.” Pancras scratched his chin. “And once you’re a novice, you’ll be out and about frequently.”

  “The masters take perverse delight in sending novices all over the place on pointless errands. You’ll be sent all over the city, possibly to some of the nearby villages as well. The archmage will be too busy running the guild to worry about where you are.”

  Delilah doubted that. Nevertheless, she didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. She returned to her room, creeping past Kale’s room. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation with her brother and that other drak. After grabbing her staff and her pouches, she returned to the common area where Pancras waited for her, alone.

  Together, they ventured into the heart of the city and down into the undercity. “Gisella says the best prices on the items you need can be found here.”

  Delilah didn’t care what Gisella thought and almost told Pancras that before remembering he planned to pay for her supplies. The undercity was even more like Ironkrag than the rest of Muncifer. Avenues and streets were completely encased in stone, a legacy of their dwarven architecture. Stairs cut from rock led deeper into the chasm bisecting the city, and bridges allowed access to shops on both sides of the rift.

  The people of Muncifer paid no mind to Pancras or Delilah as they made their way down, looking for shops that sold the supplies she needed. She noticed more draks and fewer minotaurs the deeper they went. Most of the archways separating plazas and streets were low enough that Pancras had to duck underneath them, though most of the humans did not. The air was close and smelled of soot from the myriad of open flames providing light.

  “You’d think the wizards would create lanterns or something, like we did in Drak-Anor.” She stopped in front of a stall that sold a variety of tankards and mugs.

  “Most people up top don’t care much for what goes on down here. Certainly not enough to enchant street lights for them.” Pancras pointed to a shop across the w
ay. “That place looks like it has cauldrons.”

  The shop not only sold potion brewing supplies, but was, in fact, also a fully stocked apothecary. Despite the ever-present tang of soot, the shop had a warm, spicy fragrance layered on top of the undercurrent of unpleasantness. It was run by an older minotaur. Her black fur was streaked with white, and a part of her left horn was missing. She smiled when Pancras entered.

  “Ah, a strapping male entering my shop. Not looking for virility potions, I hope? You’re far too young for that.”

  Pancras cleared his throat and pulled Delilah to stand before him. “No, we need a cauldron. A sharp knife too, for reagent chopping?” He patted Delilah’s shoulders and pushed her toward the minotaur.

  “Sounds like an initiate’s getting ready to start at the Arcane University.” She shuffled around behind her counter and pulled out a short-bladed knife and sheath. After laying it on the counter, she stepped over to a rack of shelves and examined the various cauldrons.

  “That one. I want that one.” Delilah pointed to a silvery-grey cauldron with three clawed feet on the bottom. If I’m going to be forced to listen to wizards prattle on and on about magic, I might as well have the nicest equipment.

  “A fine choice, but it’s not really a beginner’s cauldron. How about this one?” The minotaur held up a plain black cauldron with a ring base.

  “I want the other one. I’m only an initiate because that Manless bastard is making me start at the bottom because he hates draks.”

  “Oh, ho, ho, someone is a little bitter. Not my business, no, it isn’t.” She brought the cauldron Delilah selected over to the counter and leaned, letting her tunic fall forward a bit to give Pancras a view. She smiled at him.

  “Are you one of the masters there? A new one, maybe? I’ve not seen you around.”

  Pancras made a point of looking away from her. “No. No, I’m just passing through. Delilah here is the student, and I’m just helping with expenses. How much?”

  The minotaur reached over and stroked the back of Pancras’s hand. “So rare to see an intelligent male in these parts. How long are you passing through for? Maybe looking for some company, hm?”

  Delilah pushed Pancras’s hand out of the way and stood on tiptoes to peer across the counter. “Don’t get out much, do you? How much? We have other shops to hit before they close for the night.”

  “Two crowns for all this. I’ll take six and a half talons if you want the other cauldron instead.”

  Pancras fumbled in his pouch. “Two crowns is fine.” He tossed two of the gold coins on the counter, turned, and left Delilah to gather her new cauldron and knife.

  “If he changes his mind, I’m Alecta, little drak.” The minotaur grabbed Delilah’s hand and pulled her up against the counter. “And take care who you mouth off to about the archmage, hm? He has ears everywhere and very long arms.”

  Delilah took her purchases, exited the shop, and joined Pancras in the street. He stood at a railing overlooking the chasm. “Geez, what was her problem?”

  Pancras chuckled. “She’s lonely, I guess.”

  “Her name’s Alecta if you change your mind. I didn’t have the heart to tell her you won’t.”

  “Thanks.” Pancras rubbed the back of his neck. “I never have the heart to tell the females I’m just not interested in them, and the older they are, the more aggressive they become.”

  Talk of courtship brought back feelings Delilah didn’t want to think about at the moment. She pushed images of her brother and his mate out of her head. “Where to now? I still need paper and ink.”

  Pancras led her down another flight of stairs and across a wooden bridge. “I think I saw a place over this way.”

  The shop was not a bookshop, as Delilah expected, and seemed to have no merchandise at all. At the back of the boutique, some sort of machine made rhythmic pounding noises. A drak at a desk in one corner of the shop reclined in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. He sat up when Pancras and Delilah entered, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste to sit properly.

  “Oh, hey, customers. I’m Jairo. What can I do for you?” He stumbled out of his chair, wiping his hands on a dirty apron. “Jairo’s Printing, for all your”—he stared at Delilah—“umm…desti… umm… printing needs.”

  “We need a blank codex, quill, and ink.” Pancras fished within his pouch for money.

  “Right. Scribes?”

  “Student.” Pancras sorted through a handful of coins.

  Delilah cringed to hear herself described as a student. The drak fumbled as he searched for the items Pancras mentioned while he stared almost entirely at Delilah.

  “I didn’t… I didn’t know there were… umm… Children of Destiny here. In Muncifer, I mean. I hadn’t heard. That’s umm… that’s something. And you’re learning magic, huh? Yeah…”

  Delilah cleared her throat and thumped the butt of her staff against the floor. “I already know magic, and I’m not from Muncifer. We’re from Drak-Anor.”

  Jairo stopped and stared, his body a statue as the candlelight flickered on his dusty-grey scales. Finally, he regained his wits. “I’ve heard of that.” He pointed a shaking finger at Delilah. “You, the draks, drove out the dwarves and oroqs and claimed a whole mountain kingdom for yourselves!”

  Pancras glanced at Delilah. “Our legend grows.”

  “That’s not how it happened.”

  Jairo ran to his desk. He dipped a quill pen in ink and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. “Oh, I must hear all about this.”

  Delilah tapped the butt of her staff against the floor again. “Supplies. Customers. We’re buying or walking.”

  Pancras pursed his lips and shook his head as he laid a hand on Delilah’s shoulders. “I’m sure there will be another time Delilah can set the record straight. Jairo, is it? We have a busy afternoon, so if you would, please gather ink, a quill, and a black codex?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” He laid down his pen and gathered the supplies. He offered them to Delilah. “If, if you would promise to spend some time with me, set the record straight, you can have these, no charge. The draks here need to know about Drak-Anor. The true story.” He looked up at Pancras and then back at Delilah. “There are so many humans, oroqs, even minotaurs, who treat us like vermin, some draks are starting to believe it of themselves. We need good news.”

  “What are you going to do with the story of Drak-Anor?” Pancras helped Delilah stow her supplies.

  “I print a weekly broadsheet. A penny for all the goings on in Muncifer and more.” He chuckled. “Well, when I can find more. Advertise for services, that sort of thing. I would print the stories in the broadsheet. Most of my customers are draks, some minotaurs. They’re generally nicer to us than humans. It’s important for them to hear these things.”

  Delilah thought of the stories she could tell Jairo. The story of how she and Kale were trapped in a cave-in. He found the Earth Dragon, Terrakaptis, while she traveled to break the ice between the dwarves of Ironkrag and the residents of Drak-Anor. How Drak-Anor won its freedom from the oroqs, and how she and Kale freed the slaves in Almeria. A grin appeared on her face, unbidden, and she nodded.

  “Yeah, I have lots of stories to tell you. Let me get through these stupid Initiate Trials. Then I’ll come find you.”

  Jairo’s smile almost split his head in half. “You will? That’s fantastic! You have no idea how big this is!”

  * * *

  Excitable draks aside, his shopping trip with Delilah went well. It was a bittersweet afternoon for Pancras, for it would be many months, if not years, before he saw her again. He wished to have spent as much time with Kale, too, but he felt it was more important to help settle Delilah. The drak sorceress was often volatile, and she needed last-minute guidance, or Pancras feared her temper would lead her to a bad end.

  After ensuring Delilah returned safely to The Granite Anvil, Pancras headed out again to acquire the provisions he needed for the trip to Cliffport. He
wasn’t sure how long the journey would take, but according to the map the slayer showed him, it appeared be at least twice as long as the trip from Almeria to Muncifer. He assumed there would be settlements along the way from which to purchase supplies. The minotaur felt a pang of nostalgia for his old haunts and decided to pay a visit to Gisella at the Arcane University. Surely, a few extra days in Muncifer wouldn’t hurt.

  As he entered the university campus, he passed a group of novices and initiates practicing illusions. One young man attempted to create an image of a beautiful woman and failed. Proper illusions were supposed to be indistinguishable from reality at a quick glance, and if they were exceptional, they held up under scrutiny. This man’s illusion appeared more like a spectral painting, translucent and flat. The woman’s movements were stiff, like an automaton’s.

  It was a type of conjuration Pancras never mastered, and as the novices poked fun at the young initiate’s efforts, he felt a pang of sympathy for him. A female novice stood by, glancing up from her book in irritation as the fiendling jester swatted at her with a long feather and danced around her.

  “Put up the book and have a look! Don’t be dull. Don’t be droll. All the boys think you’re a troll!”

  The novice snapped shut her book and stormed off. Qaliah giggled and danced toward Pancras, despite his purposeful gait and efforts to avoid eye contact.

  “The slayer’s minotaur has returned! Got any butter I can churn?”

  Pancras stopped and spun on her. Her dancing halted, and she raised her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. “Terribly sorry! I—sometimes when I’m throwing out random rhymes, things don’t come out quite right.”

  Comparison to cows or other four-legged bovine was a sure path to a minotaur’s bad side. Pancras tried to ignore such insults, but they still upset him enough that he had difficulty masking his reaction when he heard them. Minotaurs might resemble bovine animals, but they were not in any way related. The insults served as a reminder that facts did little to eradicate bigotry.