A History of Magic

by Scott J Robinson

  “Then how do you know about the other three?”

  “They’re locals, too. We’ve known each other for years. So I went and found them after I recognized their signatures at the first casting.”

  “And you don’t know any of the others?”

  “No. Frixen did though. He knew some.”

  Rawk pulled the spell paper from the pouch on his belt and held it out.

  Shef took it nervously and started to read. He was sweating again. “Where did you get this?”

  “Frixen gave it to me.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Rawk shrugged. “Then I just found it lying around in the street. Now, which do you think is more likely? And why do you think Frixen’s alive when Valo isn’t?”

  Shef put the paper on the table and pushed it away, as if he didn’t even want to be near it. “Well, if you have Frixen then you don’t need me. I can’t tell you anything.”

  Rawk cursed himself silently. That hadn’t gone to plan. “Frixen might have passed on some information, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. And you might want to consider the fact that Valo didn’t help at all.”

  Shef shook his head.

  “Do we have any more use for him then, Silver Lark? Do you want to just kincard him now?”

  “Kincarch, Rawk. How many time do I have to use the spell before you get the name right?”

  Rawk shrugged and looked at Shef. “At least once more I’d say. What do you think, Shef?”

  Weaver’s freshly starched white sheets had nothing on Shef; he looked like he was about to pass out. “Look, there’s a woman, her magic sounds like an elf, and she was missing an arm, I think.”

  “Did Frixen name her on the list?”

  A shake of the head, but Rawk wasn’t interested. He could see Sylvia’s face and it was obvious she knew he who he was talking about. And she wasn’t very happy about it.

  “Did you get a note today?” Rawk asked. “An address and time?”

  “No. Not today.”

  “Right.”

  “Thank you, Shef. That will be all.” Sylvia started to leave.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You aren’t going to... Wait, if you were holding an kincarch, how did you know I was holding a zaniel?”

  “Do you really think I would cast a kincarch or a fiddernich? I am not that type of person, Shef.”

  “Then I will kill you.”

  “So you want me to kill him?” Rawk smiled. “He killed Maris, so he probably deserves to be turned into an overdone steak, but I will gladly run him through.” He’d never really killed anyone in cold blood before, but he found that he was looking forward to it.

  Sylvia laughed. “No, Rawk. Just leave him.”

  Rawk looked from Sylvia to Shef and back again. He was pretty sure Shef wasn’t just going to forget the whole thing had happened. “It’s all right for you; you can protect yourself with magic. He needs to die, to protect us, but I think I would like to do it slowly. We don’t have any other business today, do we?”

  “Don’t worry, Rawk. Shef won’t bother us.”

  “He won’t?”

  “I won’t?”

  “That’s right, because in a minute or two, Shef is going to start thinking.”

  “Right.”

  “And he is going to quickly start to wonder who did cast a fiddernich on Mistletowe, if it wasn’t me.”

  Rawk smiled a cold smile. This explanation was sounding good so far.

  “And then he’s going to wonder if Mistletowe deserved such a fate. He’s going to wonder what she did. Or who she talked to.”

  Rawk wasn’t sure he understood the finer points of the discussion, but he trusted Sylvia. “I can save you the wondering, Shef; Mistletowe talked to me. She was dead just a couple of hours later.”

  Shef swallowed as if he had an entire apple stuck in his throat.

  Rawk clapped him on the knee. “I’m glad we cleared that up for you.” He gave a satisfied grunt, as if everything was sorted, and rose to his feet. “I’m hungry, Silver Lark. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Steak?”

  Out on the deck, Rawk checked over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening. “What was that all about?” he muttered. Sylvia might have been sure they were safe, but Rawk picked up the pace to try to get as far away as possible without looking like he was running.

  “That many sorcerers working in unison probably need a Hadir, a heart. Someone at the center controlling everything. It will normally be the most powerful of them all. That is who Shef is now worried about. He will probably be trying to work out if The Deep Green Harpy is still sea worthy in about two minutes.”

  “It isn’t. Even I can tell that.”

  Sylvia gave him a look, which was impressive with the pace they were going through the still thick crowd. The day was drawing to a close, fingers of darkness reaching out from the buildings, but that didn’t seem to slow the pace of the docks. One of lamp-lighting dwarves was teetering down the street on his stilts like a stick insect.

  “So, you aren’t scared of this Hadir?”

  “Petrified, Rawk.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “I am an elf.”

  “Right. And what about this one-armed elf?”

  “Falling Leaves.”

  “Really? Falling Leaves?”

  “You know her?”

  “Of course not. I just can’t believe the names you lot come up with.”

  Sylvia gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Do you know where we’ll find her?”

  “Well, I can narrow it down to one of the several dozen brothels in the city.”

  “You don’t even know if it will be a high class brothel or a dive?”

  “No. It completely depends on her mood. And it could well be several in one night.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to follow Shef?”

  “Perhaps, if we had done that before barging in and threatening him. But now he will either be especially careful about being followed, or he will be dead. Either way, the chances of success are greatly reduced.” He’d better get started then.”

  “Well...” If he had stopped to think for a moment, or even just to listen to someone else who was thinking things might have been different. “I guess we’d start looking for Falling Leaves then.”

  Sylvia gave him another look. “I told you before, I have appointments.”

  “Then I’ll find her myself. Or I’ll go find Balen.” Though finding a one-armed elf woman probably wouldn’t be any harder, even if he didn’t know what she actually looked like.

  “Balen is stronger than both Shef and Falling Leaves. Surprising him will not be easy.”

  “So?”

  “So, tomorrow we find Leaves, skulk in the shadows and follow where she leads.”

  “We can’t. We’re going into the forest tomorrow.”

  “All the more reason for you to rest now.”

  “I don’t need to rest.” It was the last thing he needed. If he wasn’t going to go around killing sorcerers or exots, then he wanted to have sex. Sex with someone he didn’t know. Sex with someone who wouldn’t be there in the morning. Sex with someone who wouldn’t talk to him and wouldn’t ask questions. He wanted to empty his mind.

  Sylvia laid a hand on his arm. “Go home and sleep. I’ll come to the Rest in the morning so we can visit Jargo’s grave.”

  Rawk considered doing as Sylvia suggested. For a moment. Then, after she had hurried away into the Bazaar, he went to find something to kill. But, of course, there were exots appearing in the city everywhere, except when he wanted one.

  He roamed the city for two hours, stalking down alleys and s low, limping manner, looking in the dark corners, as if that was where the creatures were more likely to appear when there was no information to suggest that was the case.

  And as the evening wore on, his travels took him to the Ve
teran’s Club. It was still too early for Celeste and Grint to be playing, so he went to the refectory and lined up to collect some stew, though he really didn’t know if he wanted to eat. He ignored the cutlery that was available and looked around, trying to find a vacant table. There weren’t any, of course, but a Hero at a table waved him over.

  “Hello, Frew,” Rawk said as he approached. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

  Frew was a little man with big lips and even bigger hair. “Everyone is in town,” he said. He gestured to the four others at the table. “Do you know anyone else?”

  Rawk looked around as he sat down and pulled his bone handled knife and fork from the pouch on his belt. He shook his head.

  “Han, Otho, Milk and Kreer. And I believe we all have you to thank for our current employment,” Frew said after taking a long drink of ale.

  “Pardon?”

  “We are all getting paid to stand on corners waiting for exots instead of sitting in taverns waiting for exots.”

  As usual, Travis hadn’t wasted any time. “Yes, that’s me. I’m not guaranteeing how long it will last, so get the claims while you can.”

  “Two today for me,” said Milk, a big, contrarily dark man with one ear said. “Nice and easy, too.”

  “Are there more of you?”

  Frew nodded. “Another six or seven, I think.” He started to rattle off some names, but Rawk only knew one of them.

  “Good. Well, I want you six to go south of the river tomorrow.”

  “What? Why? Let them worry about themselves,” Han said.

  “Think of it this way, if you all spread out a bit more, there is more chance of making some extra money.”

  Han sniffed. “I’m not sure if I want to protect a bunch of dwarves.”

  Rawk looked at the man. “Then you can stand wherever you want, but I won’t be paying you.” He looked around at the others. “Anyone else? Good. I’ll try to organize some more Heroes to replace that one.” Rawk stabbed at a potato. “Just because they’re dwarves or fermi or... or bloody elves, that doesn’t mean they deserve to be killed by some bloody unicorn. Nobody deserves that.”

  “Dwarf-lover.”

  Suddenly hungry, Rawk concentrated on his food and wondered how long before anything would be happening in the Armory. He was vaguely aware of Frew and the other Heroes quickly and quietly sending Han away from the table.

  -O-

  The music drifted away into the corners and the crowd sat silently for a moment, catching a collective breath. But Rawk stayed where he was as they rose from the depths of the magic and slowly started to make their way towards the more mundane world above.

  There was one man who obviously wasn’t going anywhere. He was standing near the door and kept adjusting his expensive doublet as if all the passing people were crumpling the material. When everyone else had left, the man stood for a long time, watching Rawk, before finally moving towards the front of the room. He stopped a yard from the stage and straightened his doublet again. Grint and Celeste were studiously packing away their instruments.

  The man cleared his throat and Grint was finally forced to look up. “Hello, Maloti.”

  “Chritsa has informed me that you will not be back tomorrow night.”

  “Right. So, what’s the question?”

  “We have a contract.”

  “There were rumors of that, but I haven’t really seen any evidence so far.”

  “You signed it.”

  “I signed something I thought was a contract.”

  “I can show you if you like.” He started to pull a leather scroll-tube from his shirt.

  “No thanks.”

  “Do you think you can just walk away? I will make sure you never work in Katamood again.”

  “You’re going to stop me from being a cooper?”

  Maloti was confused and suddenly flustered. “What?” He tried to gather his thoughts. “Look, the managers of all the big venues know each other. We talk. You’ll be back to playing in taverns by the end of the week.”

  “Firstly, I don’t think Gerwhen, the manager of Harker’s Hall, sits around chatting with you and your friends. And secondly...” He glanced at Rawk, as if unsure if he should be saying anything at this stage.

  Rawk cleared his throat and Maloti spun around. “What do you want?” And then he seemed to realize who he was talking to. “Rawk? I didn’t see you there.”

  “You didn’t see me? You spent five minutes staring at me when everyone else was leaving.”

  “Well, yes, but...”

  “Anyway, can I give some advice to this dwarf for you?”

  “Of course. If you could make him see sense it would be best for everyone, especially him and his sister.”

  “Well, Grint, I suggest you stop talking and just leave. Maloti and the Veteran’s Club have broken the contract and this isn’t an argument worth having.”

  Malotie’s jaw flapped a couple of times. “We have not broken the contract.”

  “You were supposed to be paid every week, Grint?”

  Grint nodded.

  “I have the money here,” Maloti said. He pulled a purse full of clinking coins from his pocket.

  Rawk snatched it off him before he could react. “Is that all of it?”

  There was a slight hesitation, enough of an opening for a swordsman of Rawk’s skill to land a blow. “So, even now you can’t bring yourself to pay all the money owed.” He snatched the leather case off him as well and started to slip the scrolls from inside. Maloti started to protest but was silenced with a cold look. Rawk unrolled the paper and read. “Twenty ithel a night?”

  “That is a decent wage for a dwarf and a fermi for a couple of hours work.”

  “I dare say it is, if they actually get it.” Rawk opened the purse as well and counted the money. “How often do they play?”

  Maloti stayed silent but Celeste quietly said, “Five nights a week.”

  “So there is less than two weeks pay in here. Is that all they are owed?”

  “Yes.” Maloti was quick to speak this time. He’d had a chance to ready himself.

  “You have paperwork?”

  Another hesitation.

  “Can we do up some paperwork for this payment?”

  “Of course.” He thought he was out of trouble now. “If you’ll just follow me up to the office.”

  A few minutes later, standing in the office where Maris used to work, Rawk stopped Maloti from doing up the paperwork. “Is this all they are owed?” he asked again.

  Maloti cleared his throat.

  Grint calculated in his head. “We are owed four hundred and forty ithel all up.”

  Rawk looked at the manger.

  “That could be about right.” He sighed and went through a door at the back of the room.

  Rawk leaned against the timber desk as he waited, remembering the first time he had seen Maris. It seemed a lifetime ago but it was measured in weeks.

  “What are you doing?” Grint asked quietly. “If he pays us everything—”

  Maloti came back with a strong box and opened it with a huge black key. He counted out the extra money, making neat piles with a flourish of his hand. “Four hundred and forty ithel,” he said eventually.

  Rawk smiled as if it was all sorted. “Right. Do up the paperwork then.”

  Grint tried to communicate with looks and silently mouthed words while Maloti scribbled but Rawk waved away his concerns. Then the manager signed two pieces of paper and spun them around on the desk for Grint and Celeste to sign as well. The dwarf looked unsure as he handed one copy back to Maloti.

  Rawk took Grint’s copy. “Right,” he said, “now it would be in your best interests if you didn’t bother them again.”

  “What? But I have paid? If they break the contract—”

  “I have a piece of paper that says you paid these artists four hundred and forty ithel for a total of twenty-two days’ work.”

  “That’s right. It is all that they ar
e owed.”

  “The contract clearly states that they are to be paid weekly. I read it. So the fact that you had to pay them four hundred and forty ithel in a lump sum is a clear indication that you broke the contract, isn’t it?”

  “Well...”

  Rawk raised his eyebrows. He was sure Sylvia did it much more convincingly but it seemed to have the desired effect.

  “Yes, but...”

  “If you talk about Celeste and Grint, if they get robbed, if someone starts spreading a rumor, if anything unusual happens at all, I will be contacting my lawyers. And, also, I’ll let Weaver know and he’ll have so many auditors down here you’ll wish you had a job cleaning fish on the wharves.” Rawk smiled. “Are we clear?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel, a bit more gingerly than he would have liked, and left the room with Celeste and Grint hurrying to keep up. He hadn’t gotten to kill anything, and he hadn’t gotten sex, but he felt a whole heap better than he had a few hours ago.

  Out on the street Rawk paused and grunted in surprise when Celeste threw her arms around him.

  Rawk wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to respond. Before he could decide, she pulled back smiled at him. “That was amazing. I think I would have given in to him. I’ve never...” She started to laugh, covering he face with her hands and ducking her head as if embarrassed.

  Grint gave a bark of laughter. “I’ve never seen anything like it either. Talking a man like him into a twist is quite a feat.”

  Rawk smiled. “It did feel good. The look on his face...”

  “I don’t think he expected that from you at all,” Grint said.

  Celeste was trying to get herself under control. “He under estimated you, Rawk. I think you have a new tale to tell when somebody stops you in the street.”

  “Huh. It isn’t the type of tale the children are after, really.”

  “Tell it nonetheless.” Celeste gripped her mandolin tightly. “I am...” She looked at Grint. “We were going to get something to eat. Would you like to come too?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “We’re celebrating a new job,” Grint said.

  After a moment, Rawk nodded. “Very well. Where are we going? It has to be somewhere close by, I’m afraid.”