The bat flew through the window and hovered. Esset could hear it chittering, tiny snaps and pops like a cozy campfire. Esset looked around, once again spying the small chest on the desk. He had the bat land atop it, but there was no way the tiny creature would be able to lift it; this was just recon. There wasn’t much in the room: a bed, a bookshelf with some seriously deteriorated books, and what looked like a clothes-chest. Esset would definitely have to investigate in person, despite his fear of setting anything useful afire by accident.
Esset banished the bat with a thought and called down the bird still hovering above. He got to his feet with a groan as it landed beside him. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to hop over to that window.
Or maybe he didn’t have to “hop over.” Esset mounted up and launched off the ground. He figured if he had the bird fly straight for the window, he could banish the bird at the last second and use his momentum to propel himself through the opening.
Esset lined the bird up for the attempt. He didn’t want too much speed, but he didn’t want to repeat his fall, either. The bird swooped in. Esset readied himself on its back and then leapt, banishing the bird as planned. The window came up fast—too fast. Too fast and too small.
Esset’s shoulders slammed into either side of the stone frame of the window, and he barely stopped himself from falling again. When he was sure he had his balance, he breathed deeply to make sure he was calm and fire-free. The motion pulled at the new bruises on his shoulders.
“Hello, bruises fifty-five and fifty-six,” he muttered. He knew Toman would have laughed at his misfortune, but at the thought of Toman, Esset’s humor vanished.
Esset turned sideways and wedged himself through the narrow opening, musing that even Teheba, the slightest of the three scavengers, was bigger than he and probably wouldn’t have fit through the window. Esset was a bit on the tall side, sure, but he was a far cry from being buff.
As Esset dropped inside the room, he noticed scratches on the window-ledge. From a grappling hook? Probably. It didn’t look like the hook had caught on anything, but it was difficult to say. Certainly the room looked untouched—he seemed to be the first to successfully reach the room.
Good.
Esset went straight for the small chest, but to his chagrin, it was locked. Undeterred, Esset stuffed the chest in his side bag and continued searching the room. There wasn’t much to find; the books had been ravaged by pests, but Esset doubted they’d been written by Garson or Atah anyways. Still, the loss of any book was a tragedy in Esset’s eyes.
The larger chest on the floor held only clothes—again, heavily deteriorated. The desk and chair were nondescript and held no secrets—Esset checked—but the bed held a surprise. Esset sifted through the disintegrated canvas that had once held straw as a mattress. He was rewarded for his efforts with a tiny key.
Esset grinned at the tiny piece of metal and dug the small chest back out of his bag. The lock gave to the key with a tiny click, and the contents were intact. The gold cufflinks, tiny engraved cameo and wooden dog held no interest for Esset—they were simply the treasures of a man long dead. No, it was the scroll that captured all of his attention.
Esset withdrew the scroll with the utmost care, but it was unnecessary: the scroll had been perfectly preserved. Esset guessed the box had been magically sealed as well as physically locked, as the paper seemed almost new.
Esset started to sit down on the chair, but he leapt back to his feet when it wobbled dangerously. For a moment, he debated returning to the inn, but he didn’t want an audience any more than he wanted to pay for another room. No, here was fine; Esset sat cross-legged on the floor instead.
It didn’t take long for Esset’s hopes to dwindle. The scroll had to do with Garson’s work, not Atah’s. Where Atah’s work all centered on using natural energies to undo magic, Garson’s focused on using those same natural energies to work magic in the first place. The scroll focused on healing—Esset would have been incredibly excited about his find if not for the fact that it meant he still didn’t have a complete geas-breaking “spell.”
Esset’s mood encroached on despair, then swung around to anger. Esset dropped the scroll back into its box and clapped it shut just before he felt his body temperature rise and flamelets began dancing in the air around him. The fire only fueled his despair and anger until he finally forced himself calm. Esset stood there for a long time as the internal struggle played out. More than anything, Esset feared that he was wasting his time, and that the rest of the information he needed didn’t even exist.
I still have a lead to follow. I just have to find the scavengers, Esset reminded himself, and it was enough to calm him until the dancing flames vanished.
Mouth set in a grim line, Esset climbed up onto the window ledge again. Chest secure in his bag again, he summoned a bird and jumped onto its back. Moments later, he soared north; he had some scavengers to find.
Esset flew back to the eerie crater in the mountains, then tracked his way down the mountain after the scavengers. By the fourth day of gruelling travel and little sleep or food, Esset was second-guessing his decision to search for them.
Every second I waste is another second that Moloch is torturing Toman. What if I’m wrong, and they’re not heading to Omineca? Just because they’re based out of there doesn’t mean they’re going there now. I lost their trail on the trade road yesterday, and if I’m wrong…
Esset shook his head to clear it and squinted in the dying evening light. It was dark enough that he couldn’t follow tracks, mule scat, or traces of old campsites, but on the trade road, that didn’t matter anyways: too much traffic.
No, right now he was hoping to see live camps. He’d been searching long enough and quickly enough that he should be catching up to them any time. If he was right about their direction. And speed. How fast could three people with two mules go? They’d be limited to a man’s footpace regardless…right?
Bright Hyrishal, I hope so.
He’d checked the few inns that he’d passed and found no sign or word of them. It was the no word part that bothered him; surely someone would have seen them pass, even if they hadn’t stopped, since they had no reason to avoid towns. Or did they?
Esset shook his head again. He had to focus or stop and rest, and he wasn’t ready to stop yet. He strained his eyes against the dying light again. Was that a campfire?
There was no point in trying to be stealthy, not riding a giant flaming bird. Esset flew straight for the campfire. When he got close, he saw a group of five men shouting and scrambling for their weapons. Undeterred, Esset landed in the middle of them, next to the campfire.
After banishing his mount, Esset stood alone in the middle of five armed men whose emotions appeared to range from nervous to angry.
“Hi.” Esset lifted a hand to wave.
“What do you want, mage?” One man brandished a sword and stepped forward. He had a very large beard.
“I’m looking for some people. I was wondering if you’d seen them. Two men and a woman. Raf, Beow, and Teheba Herega,” Esset replied.
“And if we have?” the man asked.
Hope sparked in Esset’s chest. These men did seem to be of the rougher variety. Maybe he’d been asking in the wrong places before. Well, maybe not, since he’d been asking in the only places he could find, but still.
“You have?” Esset said.
“What’s it to you if we have or haven’t?” the man asked. Esset didn’t like his tone and considered summoning something to remind him who—or what—he was dealing with.
“I’m hoping to employ them,” Esset replied, noticing that a man to the side and behind him had nocked an arrow to his bowstring. Most of the nervousness had vanished from the collective demeanor of the men, and he caught a hint of greed in their leader’s gaze.
“If you want information, it’ll cost you,” the bearded man said. Not that he was the only one with a beard—far from it—but he certainly had the biggest, bushiest b
eard.
Esset scowled, suspecting these men were of a criminal element, but he didn’t want to fight if he didn’t have to. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin; it wasn’t a lot, but it wasn’t insultingly small, either. He tossed it to the man, who caught it with a grin.
“We’ll need more than that, laddy,” the bearded man said.
“That’s all you’ll get. Did you see them or not?” Esset asked. Two swordsmen were slowly creeping forward behind him. Esset was thinking these men couldn’t be all that smart if they’d already forgotten that he’d come in on a giant flaming bird of prey.
“Money makes the world go round,” the bearded man replied, holding out a hand and rubbing his fingers together.
Esset was sick of wasting time. He let arcane syllables roll off his tongue, summoning not one, but two fiery birds. One screamed a war cry; it sounded like the high-pitched squeal of sap boiling inside trees before they exploded from the extreme pressure. The other just hissed, an eerie sound like steam escaping under duress. The ring of men staggered back in a gratifying fashion.
“Raf. Teheba. Beow. Herega.” Esset carefully enunciated each name.
Wide eyes reflected the new firelight.
“We parted ways with them only earlier this evening. They were pressing on to make the next town by midnight,” one of the other men said. The bearded man was silent.
“Thank you.” Esset kept an eye on them as he mounted one of the birds; if they were stupid enough to forget about the first bird, they might be stupid enough to attack now. Thankfully they weren’t that stupid, and he made it airborne without event.
Once aloft, Esset concentrated on his breathing for a few moments to calm himself and clear his mind. He was close—very close, if the man’s words were true.
Esset flew lower now than before, so that the bird’s light would illuminate the road and anyone still traveling upon it. It didn’t take long to find them.
Talons extended and wings flared as the fiery bird landed in front of the scavengers, setting both the mules to distressed braying. Beow and Teheba immediately took to calming their pack-beasts while Raf stepped forward to greet Esset, who immediately banished his mounts. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the comparatively dim light of their lanterns.
“Esset.” Raf gave him a small nod.
“Raf.” Esset returned the gesture. “Sorry for the scare.” He was looking at the mules, not implying he’d scared the scavengers themselves.
“They’ll get over it,” Raf said. Teheba already had hers standing still, although the poor beast’s eyes rolled and its skin twitched.
“Come to pay us back?” Teheba called, smirking over at him.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” Raf added.
“Me either, but I need your help,” Esset said. All three scowled at him, although Beow’s no-doubt-snarky response was forestalled as his mule was still trying to turn around and run back down the road.
“We’ve helped you once already,” Teheba said, patting her mule on the neck. The mule was looking less agitated; the same couldn’t be said for Teheba.
“I know. But you’re my only lead to finding any more of Jionar Atah’s work, and I need to find the other half of a spell diagram to save my brother,” Esset said.
“So pay us, and we’ll help.” Raf crossed his arms.
Esset wilted, although the demand for reward wasn’t unexpected. He just didn’t have much money. Then again… Esset straightened. Did he dare give them Garson’s work on natural energy healing? It was invaluable.
“How about a trade? There will be conditions, but it will be worth your while, I promise,” Esset offered.
Raf’s eyes narrowed. So did Teheba’s. The family resemblance was uncanny. Beow was finally able to calm his pack-beast, but he didn’t turn around.
“What kind of trade?” Raf asked.
Esset pulled the small chest from his side bag. “This. This contains the works of Atah’s apprentice. I’ve never seen or heard of research like it, and it’s invaluable. My only condition is that you take it and sell it to Symria’s royal library in Sedina. If you tell them what it is and that I sent you, they’ll buy it for more than a fair sum.” Esset hoped everyone would win in this situation. The Heregas would get their reward; the research would go somewhere it would be put to good use. And Esset would get the information he needed. Hopefully.
“Where did you find that?” Raf asked, his eyes locked on the chest.
“Atah’s house,” Esset said.
“Impossible,” Teheba objected. “We got everything there was to get in there.”
“Not everything.” Esset grinned at her. “There was a second-story room you couldn’t access.” Her scowl confirmed that they’d tried and failed to access the room.
“Very well.” Raf was smiling now. “You give us the chest, and we’ll sell it to the royal library in Sedina.”
“And tell me whatever you know about anything I ask,” Esset added.
“And that,” Raf agreed. Esset was a little suspicious about the scavenger’s sudden geniality, but then again, Raf was getting what he wanted.
“And we’re square.”
“And we’re square.”
“Okay then.” Esset couldn’t ask for more than that. He held out the chest to Raf, who took it and clapped him on the shoulder.
“What do you want to know?” Raf asked.
“You found other things in Atah’s house, right?” Esset asked.
“We did. A few funny metal instruments and a couple scrolls. It wasn’t much of a load, but it fetched a far better price than we expected,” Raf said.
“Who did you sell it all to?” Esset asked. Only a few instruments and scrolls; he wondered what the odds were that one of those few items would hold the answers he needed.
“The collector who set us on the trail. His name was Father Nabus—man of the cloth and noble-born, if I’m not very much mistaken. He had a small but very fancy little church in a small town just west of Symria’s border. Furthest point west, you know where I’m talking about?” Raf asked.
Esset nodded—there was one point on the border where it extended further west than anywhere else. That would be where Raf was talking about. It was clear across Symria from where they were now, but at least it wasn’t any further south.
“I’ll warn you up front, the guy was a little kooky. Kept ranting against magic, which we thought was weird since he was buying magical artifacts.”
Esset couldn’t help but smile. “‘Hypocrisy on the part of the researcher doesn’t invalidate the work,’” he quoted.
“What?” Raf asked.
Esset shook his head. “Never mind. Anything else you can tell me?”
Raf shook his head. “Nothing I can think of. Teheba? Beow?” Both shook their heads.
“I don’t suppose you remember anything about the content of the scrolls, or remember the equipment well enough to sketch it?” Esset asked.
Teheba looked over at her brother. “Beow? Think you could manage that? You spent enough time looking at the stupid things.”
Beow scowled. “Did not.”
Raf sighed. “Come on, Beow, we all know you can draw that stuff from memory.” Raf grinned. “Show off a little. You look at any map twice and it’s memorized. The gold it’s saved us…we can’t begin to count. Show this guy what you can do.” He jerked his chin at Esset, whose face had lit up.
“Art’s for sissies,” Beow grumped.
“Beow, master cartographer! Nothing silly about that. Your memory is perfect. You’ve never led us wrong!” Raf said. Esset thought he was laying it on a bit thick, but he wasn’t going to complain if it worked.
“Drawing some stupid mage stuff ain’t cartography,” Beow said.
Teheba cut through the song and dance. “No, but we’ve been paid to do this job, and this is part of it. Nothing sissy about keeping our word.”
Beow scowled. “There ain’t enough light here to sk
etch.”
It was Esset’s turn to grin. “How much light do you need?”
Beow’s scowl deepened. “Just gimme both lanterns.”
Esset’s grin widened.
A few hours later, Esset was impressed despite himself. While Raf and Teheba had created camp on the side of the road, Beow had sketched. Bribed with the promise that he’d get to ride one of the two mules the next day instead of walking, Beow sketched all three instruments with startling detail and even copied down the scrolls to the best of his memory. Judging by the feel of the wording—it sounded very similar to Atah’s other writings—Esset guessed it was accurate.
Esset read the parchment sheets as Beow finished them. When he got to the diagram of the third instrument, he started getting excited. Reaching into his side bag, he pulled out Atah’s diagram and compared the two. Beow had neatly labeled parts of the instrument, and those parts lined up perfectly with the points on the diagram. Now Esset knew what the diagram should look like in three dimensions, thanks to Beow’s sketch. He rushed over to the surly scavenger.
“How sure are you about these labels and proportions?” Esset asked, pointing at the parchment.
“Sure,” Beow said with his customary scowl. Esset hugged him.
“Hey, get off, man!” Beow objected.
Esset let him go. “Sorry. Thank you. Really, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, no more hugging.” Beow looked him up and down with disgust. “Do you want me to finish this?” He waved at the last scroll he was working on.
“Yes, please,” Esset said, forcing himself still.
Before long, Beow had placed the parchment in his hand. Raf and Teheba were asleep, and Beow wasn’t looking very wakeful either. Esset was wide awake, too excited to even think about sleeping that night. Hope was driving him now.
“Thank you again. And thank your siblings for me too,” Esset said.
“Sure. Good luck.” That was probably the most affable thing Beow had ever said in Esset’s presence.
“You too.”
Time to stop wasting time. Esset walked a ways away so as not to wake Raf and Teheba and summoned his mount.
Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2) Page 6
