A History of Magic

by Scott J Robinson

  “More than the Club.”

  “You don’t know how much they pay.”

  “Not much, apparently.”

  Grint sneered.

  Celeste looked at her hands. “Maris said they might be moving us into the main theatre.”

  Rawk laughed. “So they can make more money and still not pay you? Look, the store room is a nice big room and you can help Travis work out where you want stuff to go.” What else could he offer? “And... And I’m going to charge people three ithel just to come in, so you two can have one ithel.”

  “We’ll have to talk about it,” Grint said.

  “You’re worried about breaking the contract?”

  “If we get a reputation for doing stuff like that...”

  “Dwarves might get a reputation for a lot of things, but breaking contracts will never be one of them.”

  “We’ll do it,” Celeste said.

  “Celeste!”

  “Let us not be careful, just this once.” Celeste was talking to Grint but continued to look at her hands. She looked quickly up at Rawk for a moment. “Now, we really should go. We have work tomorrow.”

  “We don’t even know how much he’s going to pay.”

  “I trust him.”

  Rawk drifted away towards sleep as they continued to argue. The last thing he saw was a small black cat, sitting in the doorway out to the yard, dead mouse at its feet.

  Sunday

  Rawk’s whole body ached. He felt like he’d wrestled a greivus and been used as a seat after he’d lost. Sylvia would probably tell him that was better than the alternative. His back ached as well, but in a completely different way. He was pretty sure that was just from sleeping on the floor; he’d given up on that type of thing for a reason.

  Kalesie was bustling around the room like she did every morning, but Valen and the other helpers were at least pretending to be quiet as they attempted to keep up with the shouted orders. Life continued without him. Rawk wondered if they would really notice if he wasn’t there at all. Then he wondered if it mattered. Did the world really need an aging Hero any more? Did the world need any Heroes at all? The dwarves could probably come up with a more efficient solution to the exot problem if they were given the chance. Plus every other problem.

  Rawk groaned and sat up. The ache that gripped him was definitely an improvement on the feelings of the previous night. He kept reminding himself that, in case he forgot. And his numbness from the smoking man seemed to have backed off as well, as if Mistletowe’s spell had cleaned it from his system.

  When he opened his eyes again he noticed Valen racing from the room, heading towards the front of the tavern. He returned a minute later, following Travis.

  “You’re awake.”

  Rawk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It would appear so. And I suppose that’s a good thing, really.”

  Travis sat on a stool and took a carrot from a pile Kalesie was working on. “How do you feel?”

  “Terrible. Surprisingly good. What I think I need is some food.”

  “Sylvia said you might be hungry.”

  “Then how come you’re eating and I’m not?”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Travis got another carrot and threw it to Rawk.

  Rawk managed to raise his arm, but he wasn’t nearly quick enough. The carrot thumped into his chest and he spent a moment scrabbling around to pick it up with clumsy fingers. When he finally took a bite he almost spat it back out again.

  Travis smiled. “Yeah, she also said that stuff might taste a bit funny. That should wear off after you’ve eaten a bit.”

  Rawk grunted and took another bite. By the time he was done with that, Travis had organized a bowl of stew. He took Rawk’s spoon from the pouch on his belt, which was hanging from the side of the bench, and passed them both across. Rawk started eating, hardly pausing for breath. He spilled it down his shirt, dripped it on the floor, and he felt better by the moment.

  “What else did Sylvia say?”

  “She said you were lucky. If she’d been a few minutes later— or if we hadn’t given you the tea— then it would’ve been too late.”

  “It already did feel like it was too late at the time. Can I have some more of this?”

  “You want me to ask Kalesie?”

  Rawk glanced at the woman. She didn’t look happy, but then she never did. “How about you just get some?”

  “Of course.” He took the bowl and brought it back a minute later after withstanding the cook’s stern gaze. “The tea was my idea, you know.”

  “Yes, well done,” Rawk said around another mouthful of stew. “Thank you.”

  “I think you owe me one.” He used the remains of his carrot as a pointer. “And that, friend Rawk, is worth quite a bit more than the time I let you hide behind the bar to get away from Halipturn.”

  Rawk smiled. “Yes. That wouldn’t have been the end of the world. How many are we up to now?”

  Travis shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think it’s gotten to the point where the exact number doesn’t really matter.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Sylvia’s final words before she left were something to the effect that if you don’t rest then she will not be responsible for what happens.”

  “She’s said that kind of thing before.”

  “And I’m guessing you didn’t listen.”

  “Oh, I listened.”

  “But you didn’t rest?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So what are you doing then?”

  “Nothing strenuous. I’ll be going to see Maris, I think.”

  “I thought she was all over you.”

  “Yes but...”

  “But what?”

  “I think I’m going to tell her I won’t be seeing her any more.”

  Travis raised his eyebrows.

  “When she finds out that I’ve poached Celeste and Grint I don’t think she’ll be talking to me anyway.”

  “Really?”

  “They have to be making a fortune for the Veteran’s Club. She won’t be very popular with her bosses and it will be all my fault.”

  “You may be right,” Travis agreed.

  “If she’d just paid them they wouldn’t have even considered coming here. And I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask.”

  “And we’re going to pay them more than the Club? Even though we could have gotten away with paying them less as long as we actually paid them?”

  “Are they worth it?”

  There was no hesitation. “I don’t know what they are being paid, but yes.”

  Rawk nodded. “I’ll need to work out when they can come.”

  “Tonight is going to be their last night at the club.”

  “Oh.”

  “We talked a bit last night. It might be a week or so before we can have the room ready, but I thought we might be able to spread the word beforehand.”

  Rawk nodded. “Hire some extra people to help with the cleaning if you like. Just sell all the regular stuff but let me know of anything unusual. That drum I found is worth a fortune. It’s got its own story and everything.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I gave it to Grint.”

  “You gave a fortune to a dwarf?”

  “You’ve heard him play. Is it worth it?”

  Travis didn’t have an argument for that either.

  Rawk was feeling a lot better though he didn’t know if he’d be able to fight a mushon. “Now, I have to go and visit Maris.” That task was going to be just as scary as facing a mushon, but not nearly as physical.

  He climbed slowly to his feet and managed it with a bit of help from Travis. He knew what the other man was going to say, but didn’t give him the chance.

  “I have to tell her some time today, before Grint has a chat with her, so I’d rather get it over with.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Rawk stood wavering for a moment, physically and emotionally. Then he sat down again. “I th
ink I would like some more breakfast first.”

  “Good idea.” Travis looked around. “Like what?”

  “I want some bread and honey. And some tea.”

  “Right.”

  “And some fruit.” He didn’t want to eat fruit for breakfast but anti-oxi-majigs.

  -O-

  Rawk felt as if he was walking into battle. His heart was racing, his hands were sweating and his limbs felt weak. He liked to think it was the residue of Mistletowe’s spell but the symptoms increased with every step towards Maris’ home.

  He’d gone through the conversation a dozen different times, in a dozen different ways, as he rode the cab down the hill but none of them seemed right. And now he was just a block away, having sent the cab and the pair of grumpy goats on their way, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say. He liked Maris. She was fun, even when she wasn’t in bed, but... He’d never had to end a relationship before. He’d kicked out women who’d outstayed their welcome, but that was totally different.

  He tried to keep his thoughts on the task at hand. If he gave himself any excuse he would not go through with it. He grunted. “People end relationships every day,” he said. “Normal people. Boring people. Stupid people. Some even do it by accident. If they can do it, I can do it.”

  Rawk stopped at the last corner. He needed to rest after the exertion of his ride and took the opportunity to think some more. He had the feeling he was going to say, ‘Hello,’ then eat lunch and have sex. Maybe it wouldn’t be in that order. It would be fun, one way or the other— if the remains of Mistletowe’s spell and the smoking man didn’t embarrass him— but would only make the problem worse.

  He pulled a strip of meat from his belt and chewed on it while he leaned against the building.

  His thoughts, scattered and wandering as they were, were interrupted by a shout from down the street. Rawk looked up in time to see what looked like a pony exit a building in a hurry. It would’ve looked a lot more like a pony, he realized, if it didn’t have grey scales, a bristling green mane and a single spiral of horn on its head. A unicorn? The creature turned back the way it had come. Hooves clattered against the cobbles, sending out sparks as it tried to gain traction, and it charged back inside. When it disappeared there was a growl and a scream of pain that sounded horribly human. Swearing, Rawk found some energy. He drew Dabaneera and rushed forward. Tried to rush forward. It felt like he was hobbling at nothing more than a fast walk. Still, he almost stopped completely when he realized that it was Maris’s house. He followed the exot into the building.

  Inside was chaos. There were three of the creatures. They had different colored manes, but each was as fierce and wild eyed as the others. They had a Hero bailed up in the corner of the room.

  “Josey!”

  She was covered in blood from a dozen wounds and it was amazing she was still alive at all. The unicorns worked as a team, using their horns as swords, jabbing and slashing. They had huge teeth and obviously knew how to use them as well.

  Josey slashed wildly at one of the creatures. It was the act of a tired, injured woman.

  Rawk shouted as he charged in. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Sneaking up behind them when they weren’t ready might have been a better idea. Still, he got to one before it could turn in the cramped space, sliding his sword in between two of the thick, hard scales. It came back out with a very satisfying sucking sound. But another rounded on him before he got the blade all the way clear and he backed away in a hurry. He almost tripped on the chair where he’d hung his cloak a few nights ago. His foot came down on one of the books that had been on the shelf above the door. And he wasn’t just distracted by the presence of the book and the chair. He was distracted by the fact that he knew them. They were part of his life. They were Maris’s. The room smelt of her.

  He swung instinctively at the unicorn’s horn as it lunged forward. The blade took away a chip but that didn’t seem to mean much at all. The creature kept coming. Pushing him back towards the door. Rawk didn’t know how Josey had survived against three of them. Am I really that old? But he was sick too, not allowed to do anything strenuous. He got a prick on his wrist that stung like a giant benzo wasp. He got a slash across his chest. Sweat ran down his face. His hand ached on the hilt of his sword. And he was tired. It felt like he was fighting in water.

  At last he saw his chance. But he was too slow and the chance was gone. But he was already lunging and had to twist aside to avoid being skewered. His knee screamed at the sudden change of plan. He stumbled as the exot came in hard again. Somehow, he managed to slash it across the cheek. It reared back, roaring with pain, and Rawk stepped in to finish the job. Except this time his knee did give way beneath him and he fell, crashing into the last intact chair. He looked up at the clatter of hooves. He was barely holding onto Dabaneera. He couldn’t do anything with it. Not in time. He watched as the unicorn came at him, head low. And he watched as it stopped suddenly. It turned around. There was a sword wedged between two of its scales, letting a stream of dark, thin blood down onto the floor. Josey was close behind, barely standing, trying to hold a dozen wounds all at once.

  “I knew I recognized her,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you all right?” Rawk asked.

  “No.” And she collapsed, landing on the corpse of the final unicorn with a dull thud.

  Rawk crawled to her side. He listened for a heartbeat and, when he found one, dragged her down to lay flat on the floor. She was bleeding everywhere so he hauled himself to his feet and started looking for something to use as bandages. There was the curtain, but it was too thick. The tablecloth.

  He moved across the small room. Before he had reached the table he could see an arm poking out from beneath. He wanted to rush forward, to throw the table aside and pull Maris free. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. She might yet live. It was possible. But Josey’s apology suggested otherwise. She knew about that type of thing.

  He’d had dinner at that table. He’d had sex on that table.

  Eventually, Rawk did cross the last of the space and flipped the table over. There was no doubt that Maris was dead. She had a vacant, staring hole where her left eye used to be. Her hand was clutching uselessly at a wound in her stomach. Her legs were twisted and trampled. There was small sea of blood beneath her. It was slowly turning into a large sea of blood. Maris wasn’t moving. She looked peaceful, but Rawk doubted that that had been the case in the last few moments of her life.

  Rawk jumped when somebody clattered into the room behind him.

  “What’s going on here?”

  That was a stupid question. Rawk turned and saw Waydin standing in he door. The soldier was looking around the room and soon came up with an answer for himself.

  “Exots. Path, this is the worst yet. They... Is that you, Rawk?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m a Hero, Waydin. I fight exots.” Rawk looked back at Maris. He decided that he should be sad. He should be feeling grief. But he didn’t. He felt nothing, as if his emotions had been plucked out, leaving him vacant and staring as well. He wiped at his face. “We need a healer.”

  “She’s beyond—”

  “Not Maris. Her.” He pointed to Josey, lying on the floor and still bleeding.

  “You know her?”

  “She needs help, Waydin. She’s alive, but won’t be for long.”

  “Prince Weaver will want a report.”

  “Damn you, Waydin...”

  Rawk heard the sound of a bell out in the street. He pushed past the guard and flung the door open as he went out. There was a crowd gathering. They were slowly edging closer as it became apparent the danger was over. And at the back, crowding onto a wagon with a water-tank on the back, were a group of dwarves.

  “There’s no fire,” Rawk shouted to them.

  “So we see,” the leader replied. “That was a waste of time.”

  “Do you know Sylvi
a? The healer?”

  “Of course.”

  “Come here then. Help me.”

  Half a dozen dwarves jumped down and pushed through the crowd. They followed him as he limped back inside and summed up the situation in an instant. They grabbed Josey as gently as they could. One hurried to Maris, but backed away, shaking his head to his companions. Rawk followed them silently, gritting his teeth against the pain. And he took a hand when it was offered, allowing himself to be pulled up onto the water wagon. He sat by the Josey’s side on the very top of the tank, holding her steady as the driver got the horses moving. The bell rang and a path cleared, though if the one was related to the other was impossible to tell.

  -O-

  Sylvia sighed and stepped back. “There is nothing I can do, Rawk. She is gone.”

  Rawk nodded, barely an acknowledgement at all. He felt empty. Drained. “Thank you for trying.”

  “What happened?”

  Rawk explained. It wasn’t easy.

  “The woman from the newspaper picture?”

  He nodded.

  “You’ve been seeing her for a while?”

  “Yes. Does it matter?”

  “Should it?”

  “I was going to stop seeing her.” He felt guilty for his intentions now. He felt guilty for speaking those intentions out loud.

  It looked as if Sylvia was going to ask why, but she remained silent.

  “There were a lot of reasons.” She drank too much. She didn’t like music.

  “I’m sorry, anyway. She seemed a good person.”

  Rawk wondered about that. Did good people honor their commitments, even if those commitments were with some dwarves? Even if? If it had been any dwarves other than Celeste and Grint would it have bothered him? Did his emotional investment in their music make a difference? If she hadn’t been paying the dwarf cleaner, would Rawk have held it against her? Would he have cared? And those thoughts made him feel guilty as well.

  “Josey was a good woman, too,” Rawk said. “An honorable woman. She didn’t deserve...” He looked over at the woman, at the body, and didn’t say anything else for a long time.