Darkvision

by Bruce R Cordell

  Iahn began, “Madam Urale, I don’t think …”

  “Perfect. That, I’d like to see,” said Ususi. Iahn sighed. Ususi didn’t know his illusory guise might not hold up to rough physical contact. He shambled forward dejectedly, and said with a feigned accent, “What does the lady wish of me?”

  “Fabulous!” The woman was obviously delighted to show off her plangent-granted prowess. “Face me. Each of us will attempt to throw the other to the ground. It should be fairly obvious … well, you’ll see!” The woman laughed.

  Iahn stood before the plangent, waiting, watching, looking for the least weakness in the poise and posture of his enemy. Ususi said, “Go!”

  The vengeance taker did not sinuously plant his palmed dagger in the woman’s kidney, nor did he smash her windpipe with his left elbow, twist her around to choke the blood supply between heart and head, or even sweep her legs from beneath her. He stood and waited for the woman to make the first attack.

  The Body Shop attendant stood poised, unmoving. She, too, waited for her adversary’s opening.

  “Come, sir! Don’t let your station keep you from it! Come at me! I assure you, I can take care of myself!”

  “By the Voice!” muttered Iahn under his breath, but be nodded. He threw a purposely clumsy punch at the woman. As he expected, she ducked aside. And as he feared, she was impressively fast. As she moved, her artificial limbs lit with diffuse illumination.

  Iahn moved to reset, and nearly cried out when the woman’s hand snaked forward to capture his retreating fist. So fast! But he was faster, if barely, and he resumed his guard.

  The woman frowned. Iahn railed against his stupidity. It simply wasn’t like him to make such a mistake. He should have let Tebora grab him. He said, “My pa taught me something of boxing, Miss. He had it tough on the docks.”

  Tebora chuckled, “Perfect!” and lunged for him. He resisted his reflex to roll away, and she had him. She squeezed him so hard he gasped, then she threw him to the floor. Only his training allowed him to take the fall without breaking an arm or his back. The woman apparently had little regard for others’ servants.

  Tebora looked back at Ususi, Iahn stretched out at her feet. “See! Despite his boasts, I knocked him down easily, because I’m a plangent. You could be the same as me, or choose some other attribute mix. You could …” The woman’s voice trailed off as she gazed at Iahn gathering himself on the floor. The illusory facets of his disguise were boiling away like mist in the sun, leaving gaps and fissures through which his true appearance began to wink.

  He had but a moment. If the presence he had seen outside the Imaskaran ruin lived in Datharathi crystal, then it probably also lived in the plangent. If the presence within her crystal limbs caught sight of his real shape, he feared every other plangent in Vaelan would also know a Deep Imaskari vengeance taker was in town. He thrust himself from the floor, his legs like great springs. As he rose, he cocked his left hand into a fist and delivered an uppercut, perfectly timed with the assumption of his full height.

  The blow, which impacted perfectly on Tebora’s most vulnerable bone and nerve plexus, might have taken her head clean off if she were a normal, unenhanced woman. Against Tebora, it was merely sufficient. The saleswoman gasped at the impact, then slumped down, unconscious. The luminosity of the woman’s artificial limbs dimmed and went out.

  “Well,” said Ususi, one hand fumbling inside her disguise, perhaps seeking her wand in a reaction too late in coming, “I … I’m relieved to see plangents are no match for a vengeance taker.”

  Tebora’s limbs relit with an electric crackle, and lavender radiance started to pulse anew in the chamber.

  “Go!” yelled Iahn. His disguise was in utter tatters.

  Ususi went. He raced after her out the door and into the street. As soon as the door closed, they slowed to a regular gait, like others who walked nearby. Iahn surreptitiously stripped away the dregs of his ruined disguise. He followed Ususi, assuming a position as a bodyguard instead of a manservant, especially with his dragonfly blade once more in hand instead of strapped uncomfortably to his back.

  “Where to?” the wizard asked him as she walked down the street.

  The hairs on Iahn’s neck prickled—one of the protective enchantments he cast daily on himself was alerting him he was under unseen observation. The vengeance taker pointed toward the closest alley. He considered telling Ususi how foolish she’d been in agreeing to the saleswoman’s suggestion of a fight. But she was a wizard—she could figure it out on her own. The most important thing now was to deal with whomever was following them.

  Ususi walked into the alley and Iahn ducked in after her. In Vaelan, alleys were usually small side streets, but in this case, Iahn and Ususi were granted a stroke of luck—the passage was so narrow that relatively little light illuminated it from above. Plus, the alley was jammed with enormous jars and vases belonging to a nearby retailer. He motioned Ususi to continue walking. She shrugged and acquiesced, moving ahead of him. Iahn secreted himself behind a large vat filled with white beans and waited.

  Not ten heartbeats later, a shape with a hood drawn low over its face and a blue sash tied around its waist stepped around the corner and into the alley. As the spy passed Iahn, the taker grabbed the hood and pulled it back. “Hold, plangent!” he cried.

  “No!” It was a woman, but not the one Iahn was expecting. She wasn’t a plangent. Iahn breathed a small sigh of relief.

  The woman didn’t struggle in his grip. Instead, she pulled her hood down over her face again. She said, “I am not your enemy.”

  Ususi turned and rushed back.

  Iahn said, “I don’t know if you are my enemy or not. Why were you following us?”

  “I watched you enter and leave the Body Shop, the first people I’ve seen from outside Vaelan to do so. I wanted to warn you to stay away from there—if you take the crystal, you’ll never be the same!”

  Ususi interjected. “The same?”

  The woman shrugged. “Different … not yourself.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Iahn.

  “My name is Eined Datharathi.”

  The door opened, and carts filled with delicacies rolled into the room, pushed by kitchen staff.

  As was customary for Datharathi family council meetings, exquisite foods were brought up from the kitchens to fortify the hearts and stomachs of meeting-goers. One cart bore stacks of engraved plates, slender wooden utensils, goblets, and linens. Two more carts were covered with platters of food. Warian was suddenly hungry as he noted sliced clary peppers, salted ham shavings, curried nuts, pale cheeses, and many plates filled with masterfully cut slices of raw fish on rice. More platters bore fried breads, fruits sliced into fanciful shapes, apples in cream, and a tureen of thick fish soup.

  Warian recalled that this was an aspect of Datharathi Minerals that he didn’t altogether detest. He got up, grabbed a plate, and loaded up on all his old favorites.

  His uncles, aunts, and cousins, who hadn’t had to go five years without being feted with such a glorious spread, gave the food little notice.

  Xaemar asked Zeltaebar, “Zel, please tell me where Eined’s run off to! You’ve pulled enough money out of discretionary funds to find an entire family. One woman hiding in Vaelan shouldn’t be able to elude you.”

  Warian cursed mentally, stuffed a handful of salted ham shavings into his mouth, and interrupted Zeltaebar’s explanation. “Wait. Zel told me Eined was kidnapped.”

  Xaemar looked nonplussed. “I sincerely doubt that. I think the girl absconded.”

  Warian put down his plate, eyeing it somewhat regretfully. But the conversation demanded his undivided attention. He threw an accusatory glance at Zeltaebar.

  Zel spread his hands. “We don’t know what happened to her. She could have been kidnapped, whether Xaemar thinks so or not.”

  “Doubtful,” said Xaemar.

  “Let me get this straight,” Warian said, “You think she ran off on her own? Why would s
he do that?”

  “The girl is ill,” said Xaemar. “Not physically. Mentally.” He tapped his temple with one finger by way of demonstration. “Over the last few years, she has become more and more unbalanced, more paranoid. I think she finally suffered some sort of nervous breakdown.”

  “Paranoid about what?” It wasn’t like his no-nonsense sister Eined to entertain paranoid fantasies.

  “Us!” broke in Aunt Sevaera, her voice incredulous. “The poor thing started making wild claims against her own family. Of course, her claims didn’t seem too different from the kinds of things you used to say, Nephew.” She fixed him with a reproving glare.

  “I used to say you were all cold-hearted gnomes who cared more about money than anything else. Is that the kind of thing she said?”

  “No,” answered Zel. “Well, not just that. She thought the crystal was cursed. She liked to tell people that those who exchanged their flesh for Datharathi crystal would never sleep without nightmares again. She thought the crystal threatened the sanity of those who accepted it.”

  Warian tipped his head back slightly, absorbing Zel’s words.

  Xaemar continued. “Zel describes the situation accurately. She was fixated on Datharathi crystal and the Body Shop.”

  “Any truth to what she was saying?” asked Warian. In his own recollection, he couldn’t recall an increase in bad dreams since he’d received his artificial arm.

  “Of course not,” replied Xaemar with a dismissive hand wave. “But truthful or not, her words were beginning to hurt the plangent project. She was talking down our most important new business venture to anyone who would listen. As kindhearted as we are, we couldn’t stand for that.”

  “You couldn’t ‘stand for it’? What does that mean? What did you do? Is that why she ran?”

  Xaemar said, “We did nothing. We merely offered to heal her misconceptions. We told her all infirmities of body and mind are healed for those who become plangents. We told her we had scheduled an appointment for her at the Body Shop.”

  “The next thing we knew,” said Sevaera, “she was gone. Flew the coop.”

  “You were going to make her?” accused Warian. “With the very thing she most feared? None of you have changed at all, have you? The same old Datharathis, willing to use force if they can’t get their way.”

  “Force? No …” objected Xaemar

  “You threatened to cut off her stipend if she didn’t take the improvement,” volunteered Zel in an off-hand tone.

  Warian nodded. Sounded just like Xaemar. His uncle did not have the good grace to look sheepish. He just shrugged as if to say “So? It’s just business.” Warian recalled when things had reached their worst before he left Vaelan. Xaemar had cut off his own stipend. No big surprise. He’d do it to anyone who didn’t tow the Datharathi line.

  “Be that as it may,” said Xaemar, “where did she go? Enough assigning blame. She’s not right in the head, and as family, we owe it to her to find her and help her.”

  Warian snorted. If his sister were actually sick, then he hoped she was found. But was his family misrepresenting his sister’s plight in order to put a better spin on the situation? He’d learned that accepting his family’s claims at face value was sometimes risky. But he didn’t know why she would vanish into hiding. His family was hardhearted, sure, and stubborn, but Eined was part of the same family. She could hold her own in family politics.

  Zel said, “As far as I can tell, she’s still in the city. My agents tell me they’ve sighted her a couple times.”

  “Tell your agents to bring her in, dear Zel,” instructed Sevaera. “The longer she is out and about without taking the crystal to stabilize her mind, the sicker she becomes. The poor thing could hurt herself. Or someone else.”

  Warian asked, “If being a plangent is so great, why doesn’t Zel have to ‘take the crystal?’”

  “It’s like I told you, kid. I say, ‘Don’t fix what …’”

  Xaemar interjected. “Zel, Eined, and even you—if you stay—will embrace the family business, Warian. We must display a united family front, after all.”

  “I’ve already got a prosthesis.” Warian raised his arm.

  “A malfunctioning prototype on its last gasp. And you’re no plangent—the newest prostheses aid both physical and mental skills. It’s a complete solution,” explained Xaemar.

  Zel gazed at Xaemar, saying nothing. Warian guessed Zel was silently cursing out his brother for being such a highhanded canker.

  “Well,” said Warian, “let’s have that argument later. First, I want to see Shaddon and find out what’s going on with my arm. If my simple one-piece prosthesis can malfunction, who knows what kind of failure all your new ‘whole-body prostheses’ could undergo.” He made a fake shiver. Sevaera glared at him.

  “Enough blather.” The thoughtful expression returned to Xaemar’s face, yet he spoke. “Zeltaebar, find Eined. Restrain her if you must, for her own safety. Bring her here. Warian”—Xaemar turned his distracted gaze on his nephew—“You will go see Shaddon at the site. Leave tonight. Sevaera will accompany you.”

  Warian sighed. “We’ll see.”

  Datharathi!” exclaimed Ususi. Her hand flew up, instinctively preparing to cast a blood ravening bolt or a gout of flame.

  Large clay vessels obscured Ususi, Iahn, and the woman who’d followed them into the narrow alley. The woman, Eined Datharathi, was young, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. She wore a voluminous cloak, and the blue sash around her waist was fine silk.

  “Datharathi—as in the crystal?” inquired the vengeance taker, one arm on the woman’s elbow as if casually escorting her. In truth, Ususi knew his hand was as good as an iron manacle.

  “Yes, my family is responsible for mining the crystal sold in the Body Shop.” She spat, apparently considered a curse in Vaelan. “My grandfather created the plangents!”

  “I see,” said Ususi, although she did not quite understand what the woman was saying. “You are … on the outs with your family. Is that what you’re pretending?”

  “Pretending!” Eined nearly yelled, a flush blossoming in her cheeks. “I’m here to warn you—to help you—and you accuse me of, of … what? Being in cahoots with the Body Shop?”

  Iahn looked her in the eye, as if he could gauge truth with vision alone. Perhaps he could. Ususi required more information—her first inclination was to assume Eined represented a trap. After all, they’d just exited the transformation shop with the saleswoman lying senseless in their wake …

  Ususi said, “I’m just trying to discover the truth. Trust is in short supply—we were attacked in that building. Why should we believe you? You appeared just now, as we were leaving the Body Shop.”

  “Because I’ve been watching the shop—I just told you! Your friend here with his hand on my arm was dressed differently when you went in, and obviously was in the middle of removing a disguise on his way out. I’d say you went into that shop expecting some sort of trouble. And by the way you ran from the exit, I could tell you found it.”

  Iahn broke his silence. “How can we be sure you’re not part of that trouble? You’ve admitted you’re of Datharathi blood.”

  Eined nodded. “Damning, I know. But why would I warn you if I wished you harm?”

  “Simple. You’re setting a trap,” Ususi verbalized her suspicion, then looked up and down the alley for Eined’s potential compatriots. She couldn’t see anyone huddling in the shadows, but that didn’t mean the woman wasn’t playing them.

  “Look,” said Eined, “I don’t have any crystal implants—almost everyone in my family does. If I had taken the crystal, you’d be right to distrust me—no one is the same after the procedure. They tried to get me to take a few prostheses. That’s why I went into hiding.”

  “You are a fugitive from your family?” said Iahn.

  Eined nodded.

  Iahn looked into Eined’s eyes a moment longer, then let go of her arm and glanced at Ususi. “I judge we can trust he
r. Perhaps she can help us, and we can help her.”

  “You’re the vengeance taker,” Ususi agreed. Takers were renowned for the ability to discern truth from falsehood. But they’d been known to be wrong. Ususi vowed to keep half an eye on this woman.

  Ususi mollified herself by recalling that even those who’d earned a vengeance taker’s trust were only under a little less scrutiny than his enemies. It was the nature of the vengeance taker order to view all with some level of suspicion. Or so she’d heard.

  “I do need help,” allowed Eined. “Since I went into hiding, my family has been looking high and low for me. I’ve about exhausted my resources.”

  “And we need help, too,” said Iahn. “Perhaps our needs and abilities can be shared.”

  Ususi said, “We need to find the source of the crystal.”

  “The source? The shop …”

  “We need to find out where the crystal is mined,” explained Ususi.

  “So you can shut down its production?” asked Eined.

  “Mayhap. And for other reasons.”

  Iahn gave a subtle shake of his head, but she had already ceased speaking. Yes, she was aware, no need for Eined to know their deeper purposes.

  “Well … if you promise to sabotage production, I can tell you where the crystal is mined,” said Eined.

  Iahn shrugged. “We can do no more than promise to try. Success may or may not follow.”

  Eined squinted at the vengeance taker uncertainly.

  Ususi sighed. “Yes, we’ll stop the mining operation, Eined. If we can, we will. Where is the mine?”

  “You’ll need to charter a boat. The mine is not on this side of the Golden Water.”

  “Then what?” asked Ususi.

  “That’ll have to wait for the other side of the gulf.”

  “Tell us where we need to go,” instructed the vengeance taker.

  “I will—because I’m going with you. I’ll take you to the site personally.”

  Ususi glanced sidelong at Iahn. Was the woman showing her true colors? Suspicions again scurried through the back of the wizard’s mind.