Rawk gestured to the pastry on the table. “Somebody can.”
The dwarf shook his head. “That isn’t ours. It was here when we got here.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
And the dwarf sighed and moved out onto the battlefield where his companions were already hard at work.
Rawk stared absently at the pastry, trying to keep his mind away from the mess behind him, wondering what he was supposed to do next. Falling Leaves was their last lead and if they didn’t find something soon then the City Guard would continue their trawl through the city. Sylvia would not be safe. Probably lot of other innocent people would not be safe either, even those who had nothing to do with magic.
He was not sure how long he stood there, staring, but a thought eventually struck him. He stepped forward and crouched down near the table.
“So, who owns this,” he muttered to himself. He poked the pastry with his finger, then flipped it over. Then he nodded with satisfaction, wrapped it up in the brown paper, and put it in his pocket. When he turned around he discovered Sylvia standing close by. They stood silently and looked out over the blood and gore for a moment.
Sylvia sighed. “I am afraid this is a dead end,” the elf said. “I am not sure what else we can do.”
Rawk grunted. “One of the sorcerers lives on the eastern slopes of Two Watch Hill,” he said after a moment. “Somewhere near Picamoko Square.”
Sylvia looked at him. She blinked. “Do you make this nonsense up on the spot just to vex me, or do you plan it all out before you leave home in the morning?”
“Planning is too much like work; I like to be spontaneous. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Picomoko Square. I thought I said that.”
“So we just go and stand in a random corner of a random square and hope this sorcerer turns up? That seems even less likely than trawling through the brothels.”
“The trawling worked, didn’t it? But, no, we don’t just stand in a random corner. We stand in the corner nearest to the Moko Bakery.”
Sylvia hurried after him. “What?”
“The bakery. We were there on Sunday just between the Golden Fetch and the Randy Bride. Or...” He wasn’t exactly sure which brothel they had recently left or which they were heading towards in their search for Falling Leaves, all of the establishments had merged in his mind, but he knew the bakery. And he knew the apple slice he had eaten. And he most definitely knew the pastry he had eaten afterwards.
“I refuse to continue...” Sylvia had to rush to keep up.
Rawk silently listened to Sylvia all the way across the city. She didn’t stop talking. She went around in circles, from “Where are we going?” to “If you don’t tell me what is happening I am going to go home.” It wasn’t a very big circle.
When they reached Picomoko Square, Rawk stopped to get his bearings, then headed for the bakery down near the Maple tree in the corner. When he climbed the stairs, Sylvia stopped in her tracks and also stopped talking. But just for a moment.
“You are going to the bakery? You really came here to buy food?” She looked even more exasperated with him than usual.
“Come on,” Rawk said, motioning her through the door. “You’ve come this far...”
“I am not hungry.”
He pulled the wrapped pastry from his pocket.
“What is that?”
Rawk didn’t answer. He went up to the counter and put the pastry down as the baker came out from the back room sending out a cloud of flour as he dusted at his apron.
“Good morning, Rawk,” he said.
“Good morning.”
“What can I do for you?” He eyed the pastry.
“Do you give refunds?”
The man didn’t reply.
“Sorry. That was a joke. But you did make that, didn’t you?”
The man dragged the item in question closer. “I reckon so. I don’t know of anyone else that makes them.”
“What’s the yellow stuff called again?”
“I call it custard.”
“Right. It’s good.” Rawk tried to gather his thoughts. “So, anyway, I guess you sell a lot of them?”
“Of course.”
Rawk sighed. “Of course.”
“What is happening, Rawk?”
Rawk turned to Sylvia. “This pastry was in the warehouse. The dwarves didn’t take it.”
“I wouldn’t sell to a dwarf.”
Rawk turned to glare at the man. “So if a dwarf walked in here and tried to give you money for a loaf of bread you’d send him away?”
“Well...”
“That’s what I thought. Give me another one of the custard things.” He fished around in his belt for some change, and turned to back to Sylvia when he had the pastry. “I remembered the custard from when we were here the other day. You should try some, by the way.” He took a bite.
“So you are suggesting one of our sorcerers came here before going to the gathering.”
“What sorcerer?” the baker asked.
“Exactly.”
“So, do we start knocking on random doors, hoping they are home?”
“Of course not, that could take all day and we don’t want them to know we’re onto them.”
“Unlike Shef?”
“Shut up.”
“So, what is your plan?”
“We find a nice shady spot and sit down to watch.”
“And this will bring quicker results than the door knocking plan?”
“Perhaps not quicker, but less strenuous. And there will be less chance of them slipping past us while we are knocking somewhere else.”
“Who says they live in the area and were not just passing through? And who says they will be back?”
“They’ll be back. You really should try the custard.”
“I really do not have time for this nonsense.”
Rawk shrugged as he licked custard from his fingers. “Suit yourself. I’m going to find somewhere to sit down.”
-O-
Rawk leaned back and watched the latest batch of children run off after the latest story, though he was sure he’d seen one of the girls earlier in the day. Beyond them, near the edge of the square, a dwarf on stilts was lighting the lamps.
“You know I was there, do you not?” Sylvia said.
“Where?”
“I was in Lasket about three days after you left.”
“Were you following me?”
“That is unlikely, Rawk. I generally tried to stay as far from you as possible. I was heading north, to Hula.”
“Oh. So...”
“So I know there was no Merdule warrior. There was no Flail of Destruction and there was no princess.”
“Who says?”
“The villagers.”
“Well, what would they know? Most of them had never been more than two miles from the Lasket in their lives so they wouldn’t know a Merdule if he was breathing garlic in their faces.” Sylvia raised an eyebrow and Rawk shrugged. “Nobody wants to hear the truth.”
“But perhaps they should hear it anyway. If Heroes keep telling their admirers that dwarves are less than human then why would they ever think otherwise?”
Rawk closed his eyes and didn’t say anything for a long time. “Is there a rigid standard against which we should judge people, do you think? Or can we only judge them for the moment and the place that they inhabit?”
“What do you mean?”
“Twenty years ago it was acceptable to hate dwarves...”
Sylvia watched critically as another woman walked past with a scarf around her face. “As it still is.”
Rawk waved the comment away. “So, if someone lived back then, are they a terrible person for hating dwarves?”
Sylvia gave a slight shrug. “I do not know. Perhaps we can only judge ourselves. Perhaps it is just about balance.”
“How so?”
“When you looked at dwarves you expected their respect, but did not offer them
respect in return. When we fought at Maradon you cast your stones onto the King’s side of the scales without even considering the peasants.”
“So I was a bad person?” He hadn’t felt like a bad person at Maradon. He’d thought he was doing the right thing.
Sylvia shrugged. “I am a healer, Rawk, not a philosopher. But I will say this… All those years you were trying to kill me, I was never convinced you were actually evil, merely stupid and misinformed.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It is neither compliment nor insult. It is just the way things were.”
“I don’t agree with slavery,” Rawk said, “but Kenkona has been carried on the backs of slaves for hundreds of years.”
“So, do you forgive the nobles of Kenkona because that is the moment and the place that that inhabit?”
Rawk shook his head.
“Then I suspect you have your answer.”
Rawk nodded. “Bree— Lady Tapalar— hated dwarves. She would cross to the other side of the street to avoid them, unless they were working for her. Then she just ignored them for the most part.”
“As did you, Rawk.”
“Perhaps we were merely misinformed about that as well.”
A sewer was inching it’s way across the square, bright red safety markers standing guard as dwarves hacked at the ground and hoisted load after load of soil up into waiting wagons. It seemed that they could do that sort of work all day. A priest, dress in the orange robes of the Great Path, was watching them critically, staring as they sweated and sang their work songs.
And...
A portal opened behind the priest. Rawk surged to his feet, Kaj hissing from the scabbard. People parted before his shout and, after a moment of confusion, they fell in behind as he raced across the square. But by the time he reached the portal, nothing had happened. No creatures had emerged. Nobody had died.
Rawk stood in front of the grey shimmer-in-the-air, sword ready, heart racing. And still nothing happened. And just when he was beginning to think there was no danger at all, a dozen creatures came through, all in a rush. They had two legs and two arms, and ran upright, but their skin was grey and bald and they were only three feet high. Then twenty or thirty more came through, running hard, some looking back over their shoulders. A large group of them paused for a moment to look around, but then they ran again, disappearing into the crowd. And a moment later, there was a dragon. The creature was as big as an ulifant, but fast and fierce, loud as a dying horse. It was past Rawk before he could even think and snatched up two of the staring spectators with huge, clawed hands. A moment later it was send up a storm of dust as it beat its wing furiously and heaved skywards. Its outline was visible against the stars of the swarm as it flew over the top of Two Watch Hill and headed towards the Old Forest. And the creatures it had pursued were gone as well, disappearing into the city.
“Why didn’t you save them?”
Rawk turned and looked at the priest. “Excuse me?”
“You stood there and...” The man saw the look on Rawk’s face and fell silent. It was a bit late for that.
“Why didn’t I save them? Why didn’t you save them?”
“Because—”
“You could have said a prayer, surely. The Great Path would have swept down from heaven like he always does and... Oh, wait, that’s right, the Great bloody Path never does a damn thing. He sits back and waits for men to do all the work.”
“The Great Path—”
“Go to hell.”
Rawk strode away, pushing through the stunned crowd, back towards Sylvia was waiting silently. She had started to follow his original mad dash, but had not gotten very far.
“Are you all right?” she asked as Rawk approached.
He nodded. “Which is more than can be said for those other two.”
“Indeed. There was nothing you could have done.”
Rawk grunted. “That’s not what the priest thinks.” He looked back over his shoulder. “How can an all powerful god have anything to do with that? I mean, life is so damned random and complicated. Those two people were walking through the square doing some shopping, then the next minute they were dragon food.”
Sylvia nodded. “What of the other creatures? Have you ever seen them before?”
“No. And I doubt I will see them again. There was not a warrior amongst them.”
“You do not fear them then?”
“No. They’ll hide for a while, then get the hell out of here once they realize what it’s like.”
“I suppose...” Sylvia stopped and looked around. She adjusted her scarf. “There.”
“What?”
“That man with the beard. He is a sorcerer.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am sure.”
The man in question went into the bakery and emerged a few minutes later with a small, paper-wrapped parcel.
“Come on then. We’ll follow him home then we can...”
“We can what?”
“I don’t know. We’ll beat some information out of him.”
“If he does not know the location of the next meeting, or the identity of his co-conspirators, then what can he possibly tell us?”
“You think too much. Let’s worry about all that when the time comes.”
“Of course. A sound plan.”
“Shut up.”
The sorcerer had left the square and was going around the back of Two Watch Hill. The Old Forest slowly crept in to view to the West and, to the North, farmland stretched away as far as the eye could see. The streets were starting to go quiet with the coming of night. Hawkers chased last minute sales and workers headed for home.
“He must really like those pastries,” Rawk said. “He goes a long way just to get them.”
“That sounds a bit like someone I know.”
“Really? Who’s that?”
After a few more minutes the man turned down the hill towards Grand Smelling, a small district filled with cheap warehouses and second-rate craftsmen.
Rawk had a sudden thought. “He isn’t heading for home. He’s heading for a meeting right now.”
“Two nights in a row? Surely not.”
“Why not? Do you know something I don’t?”
“I know how hard it is to do complex magic.”
“Well, you don’t have to get smart about it.” But Rawk was sure he was right. It was the same type of area they had found Falling Leaves that morning. He took a few more steps. “Where did he go?”
“He is cloaking.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“He is approaching the building over there. I believe he intends to go inside. Yes.”
The building in question looked like it was about to fall down. One end of the porch drooped badly and the windows were all boarded up.
“Definitely a meeting.” Rawk put his hand on Kaj, feeling the way the hilt seemed to fit perfectly. He looked around and continued down the street to the building.
“What are you doing?” Sylvia whispered fiercely.
“They are in there opening portals that will let creatures through to our world. Those creatures will most likely kill people.”
Sylvia grabbed his arm. “We cannot just march in the front door, Rawk. We must think.” She looked around, then pulled him towards a narrow alley down the side of the building.
“Who says going in the back door will be any better? One of them is probably leaning against the back door plotting something.”
“Let us see what we can see.”
Not far away, a board had fallen away and a dark window that stared blindly over the rubbish. A few yards beyond that was a narrow, warped door.
Rawk found a half rotten crate and placed it carefully under the window. He tested to see if it would hold him, then climbed up to peek inside. For a moment he couldn’t see anything, but his eyes slowly adjusted and he peered into the gloom. After a moment he sat down on the crate and qui
etly cleared his throat.
“What did you see?” Sylvia’s face was hidden in shadow. The light from the street did not reach them.
“Well, I saw Balen and the guy we were following.”
“That was all?”
Rawk winced. “There may have been a couple of others.”
“A couple?”
“Three or four others.”
“Three or four?”
“Or five. “ Rawk jumped when a noise erupted from further down the alley. A rat or a cat or something similar. He breathed. “They were standing around in the dark with their hoods up.”
“Five others? Apart from Balen and the other one?” Sylvia glanced at the window. “We need to get help, Rawk.”
“Help? From who?”
“Well... Weaver?”
Rawk sighed. “Weaver may well help, but I can assure you that it wouldn’t turn out the way we expect. And besides that, it would be an hour before he could get here with some people. This little meeting will be over by then and the sorcerers will melt back away into the city. We’d have to start searching all over again. Again.”
“When they leave we can follow one of them. We could go back to our original plan.”
“And how many innocent people die because we let this meeting go ahead tonight?”
“So, let me see if I am correct... You are suggesting that we charge in there to fight seven sorcerers?”
When he thought about it, Rawk realized it didn’t seem like a good idea at all. He couldn’t back out now, though. “Of course,” he said. “Unless you can come up with a better plan.” He hoped she could.
“Any plan would be better than that.”
He heard a voice inside. It was deep and muffled and sent a shiver down his spine. He stood back on the box and tried to hear what was being said but could not get more than an occasional word. He climbed down and looked at Sylvia again. “We could surprise them. I can probably get to a couple of them before they even know we’re there.” He couldn’t stop himself.
“I hope you are joking, Rawk.”
Was he joking? “We have to do something. If we wait until they start their spell then they won’t be able to sense whatever you’re doing, right?”
Sylvia gave a small nod.
“Great. So, we wait for the right moment, then I’ll charge in and distract them some more while you... “ Rawk waggled his fingers in the air. “While you do your thing.”
A History of Magic Page 27
