by Mel Odom
“You run well, old man,” the drow said as she floated up through the floor in wraithform herself. She carried a large hunk of tentacle that she was pulling from around her midsection. She threw the tentacle to one side and resumed physical form. The tentacle smacked against the floor wetly when it landed. “But I grow tired of the chase.”
“Who sent you?” Golsway demanded. He held the staff before him. Power radiated in the wood. The woman had to be able to see it if she was the kind of mage he thought she was. Still, she gave no pause to the threat that he offered.
“One whom you would steal from.” The drow glanced around the room, spotting the table where Golsway’s latest interest lay. “You’ve been prying into affairs that are none of your concern.”
“You’ve not told me who—”
“Nor will I.” Ignoring the staff pointed in her direction, the drow crossed to the table.
“Stay away from that.”
“You’ve no right to this.” The drow lifted the box the artifact was packed in. She lifted it from its case, turning it in the light.
For the woman to know so precisely what it was that he had, Golsway knew that a scrying spell had been used on the object. But the caster must have been very good, otherwise the wards the old mage had up would have notified him of the scryer.
She turned back to him, locking her colorless gaze with his. “Now, old man, the chase is over, the prize won, and it is time for you to die for daring trespass.” She lifted a hand clad in a snakeskin glove.
Even as Golsway activated the thunder and lightning spell from his staff, a giant disembodied hand formed in the air. Each of the fingers was as thick around as his waist. The palm spanned the distance of two axe handles laid end to end.
The hand struck as quickly as a spark snake. The long fingers wrapped around Golsway with crushing strength, covering the staff as well. The thunder and lightning charge erupted against the giant palm. By some miracle, the hand absorbed most of the damage, but too much reflected back into the old mage.
Blackened and maimed, the sorcerous hand fell away in a lifeless heap. It disappeared before it hit the ground.
Golsway dropped, unable to make his limbs find the strength to hold him. Death hovered around him and he knew it. His vision narrowed. Gasping for breath to feed lungs too seared to use it, he tried to cast one last enchantment. But there was nothing left in him to give.
His last sight was of the drow as a golden aperture opened behind her. Smiling, she stepped through. The aperture closed to a tiny yellow dot that fragmented and vanished.
Golsway closed his eyes, surrounded by mysteries he’d yet to solve, truths he’d yet to find. He’d always known there would never be a proper time for leaving. Then he died.
It’s all right, Baylee.
The ranger came awake in the night, gasping for air and shuddering with the force of the nightmare. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. His chest heaved and perspiration filmed his skin.
It was only a bad dream, Xuxa soothed. You are safe here with me.
Baylee ran a hand through his wet hair. Only then did he realize he was alone in the hammock stretched between two limbs thirty feet above the ground. Jaeleen?
Gone.
The loss hit Baylee harder than he’d have thought even though he’d been expecting it. His body groaned with the aches and bruises he’d gotten from the fight with the ghoul. She didn’t wake me.
No.
Baylee made himself relax back into the hammock. He stared up at the dying moon and the handful of stars dusting the remains of the night. He wondered if anyone could feel more alone than he did at that moment. Did she try to wake me?
Xuxa hesitated.
No lies, Xuxa. We could never have lies between us.
She didn’t, Baylee.
The ranger glanced further up into the tree, folding his arms behind his head, and tried to pretend the leaden lump in his breast wasn’t his heart. He forced a smile. Xuxa hung upside down, barely a yard above him, her leather wings folded tightly around herself. Did she talk to you? he asked.
No.
Did you talk to her?
I saw no point. We have nothing to discuss.
Did she take much this time?
The azmyth bat stretched her wings. Her small mouth opened in an almost human yawn. She took some of what you found in the chamber last evening. I do believe that you haven’t got a single silver piece left to your name.
It’s a good thing you and I don’t take much to get by in this life.
Yes, but then what better life can there be than living out in the open as we do. Neither of us were born for the cities of Man.
No, Baylee agreed. I love the openness of this world. A room at an inn is a nice thing to experience once in a while, but I’d get bored looking at the same land all the time.
Then why get so attached to Jaeleen?
Baylee looked the azmyth bat in the eyes. I can’t explain it even to myself.
Let me help. Have you ever heard of the word aberration?
Baylee ignored the comment. He knew it wasn’t the bat’s word, but he also knew her telepathic link always hit closely to what she was thinking. But he wanted to talk, not argue. There is so much she is good at.
I could tell you thought so from the way that hammock was jerking around earlier. I was actually fearful the two of you were going to break your necks before you exhausted yourselves.
Baylee smiled at the memory in spite of the pain that went with it. There was something missing. Wine. Some wine and some cheese, maybe some chilled fruit. That would have been nice.
That reminds me, Xuxa said. Jaeleen also stole the last of our journeycake.
‘Stole’ is too harsh a word. ‘Borrowed’ is better.
The azmyth bat sniffed in disdain, choosing deliberately to throw the artifice response at him. She’d learned the habit from a previous human she’d traveled with. Azmyth bats lived to be well in excess of one hundred years. Baylee had never gotten Xuxa to admit how old she really was.
Either term, Xuxa replied, it will be berries and spring water for breakfast.
I’ll make it up to you at the Glass Eye Concourse, Baylee promised. You know there will be more than enough to eat once we arrive there. And we’ll stay the duration?
Xuxa, this is a forgathering. Not only that, it’s one of the biggest forgatherings of rangers in the year. Once it starts, it may not end for months.
The azmyth bat gave a happy chuckle of expected contentment.
We’ll stay a tenday, Baylee promised.
I’ll hold you to that.
In the silence, the ranger’s thoughts wandered again to Jaeleen. He felt drawn to her in a way that moths winged to flame. Though he was loathe to admit it, there was not much to like about Jaeleen. She was self-centered, arrogant, and petty. But during the times he shared with her, contested against her own nature to try to get her to see a wider view of the world, he was convinced he’d never meet another woman like her who set his heart thrumming in quite the same fashion. When there was no sarcastic remark forthcoming from Xuxa, he was grateful. He knew he was allowed to have private thoughts in the azmyth bat’s presence in spite of her telepathic powers, but he remained suspicious of how much Xuxa monitored him.
After the forgathering, Xuxa asked, are you still planning on returning to Waterdeep?
Baylee hesitated.
Remember, Xuxa said, no lies.
I don’t know.
Well, at least that’s honest, if not definitive.
It’s not that easy, the ranger protested. Too many things were said between Golsway and me. Some of them I now realize I had no place to say.
And some of them Fannt Golsway had no place to say, Xuxa said gently. I am sure he realizes that by now as well. You are not the only one who can see the error of your ways.
Baylee looked deep into the azmyth bat’s milk-white eyes. Golsway is a hard man. He’s been my teacher. He can make no mistak
es in his eyes.
He was much more than your teacher, and I think he’s had time to realize that. Baylee, you would be better served to spend your time in Waterdeep repairing that relationship than in haring off after Jaeleen.
How did you know I was thinking about that?
Because being around that—that woman—locks up your thoughts. I expect you to be pining away after her for a tenday or more. I am looking forward to very depressing times, I’m afraid. I hate it when you mope.
You’re no walk in an elvenglen yourself.
Baylee, why do you think Jaeleen left without saying good-bye?
She didn’t want me to try to convince her to spend a longer time with me.
Xuxa chirped in frustration. That’s only half the truth. The other part is that she has feelings for you and she knows she will never be the woman you need in your life.
What kind of feelings?
Xuxa spread her wings and shook them. Listen to all that I say, not half of it. As much as I find to dislike about that female, I sense that in her own strange way she loves you and would spare you the trouble that she would undoubtedly bring.
Baylee couldn’t help but think that somehow sounded romantic. Ill-fated lovers was a theme that played to most audiences, and all the legends and histories he’d ever read had been full of such stories.
You can’t change her, Xuxa said, and I fear a bad end for her.
She can take care of herself Baylee turned cautiously in the hammock and stared off into the darkened forest. To the east, the sun was starting to taint the sky a rosy gray. It would be so easy to trail her through the forest. She was good at her woodcraft, but he was better. He could find her before noon.
But he knew he wouldn’t In a few minutes more, he fell back asleep. There was no hurry.
Tirdan Closl surveyed the wreckage inside Fannt Golsway’s study, seeking to understand everything that had happened inside the house. He was a tall man, and broad, slower now in his mid-fifties than he had been as a younger man. His dark hair and beard were well kept by his wife, but he had a habit of pulling at it while he thought.
The carnage inside the home gave him plenty to think about.
“Sir,” a young guard said behind him.
Closl turned. He was a senior civilar of the watch in Waterdeep, his leather armor strengthened with chain bearing the green, black, and gold that marked his station. He fisted the pommel of his short sword as he regarded the junior officer. “Yes, Daike?”
“I located the cook, sir.” Daike looked around the room with wide eyes.
Closl didn’t blame the boy. Despite all the fights and bar brawls that happened in Waterdeep that the watch took care of, nothing could prepare a man for the sight of his first wizard’s battle. “Where is she?” the senior civilar asked in a gentle voice.
“Outside, sir. Her name is Qhyst. She asked that she not have to come in.”
“Of course.” Closl took another look at the ruined corpse of Fannt Golsway. The old mage was a crumpled shell of himself, lightning blasted so that his flesh had lost all its color, yet charred in places where the magicks trapped inside him had vented themselves. The early morning sunlight only made the horrific death seem even more evil. The watch senior civilar had been born a farm lad, brought to Waterdeep for a time to sail with the trading ships and see bits and pieces of the world, and had been with the watch for his last twelve years. He had seen such sights before, but not often.
Two men worked on Golsway’s corpse. One was Hazra, a watch member trained as a physician. The other was Mintrivn, who was wise in the ways of magic. Both of them were there to determine exactly how Golsway had died. If possible.
“Daike,” Closl said.
“Sir.” The young man whipped his attention toward the senior civilar and straightened his carriage. Closl ran a tight shift.
“Help Oryan question the neighbors. She will need every man she can get to do it all properly.”
Daike snapped a salute and led the way out of the room.
Closl sighed heavily and followed the younger man out. With a murder like this, all the weak members of the watch would be culled by the end of the week. Especially when Piergeiron, Warden of the Guard, Commander of the Watch, Overmaster of the Guilds, and Open Lord of Waterdeep announced that they were intent on bringing the person or persons responsible to justice.
He stepped into the hallway and found the cook. Surprisingly, besides the drawing room below and the study on the top floor of the house, little damage had been done. Whoever had done the killing had known exactly what they wanted and took no chances about getting it.
“Dame Qhyst,” he said.
The cook turned to face him. She was a short woman, surprisingly comely for one who chose to work out of sight of most people in a wizard’s home. Her dress was homespun, a pale green that set off her dark good looks. Her hands were weathered and red, the hands of a farmer’s wife.
She curtsied, bowing her head. “Milord.”
“No, Dame Qhyst, senior civilar will do nicely. Or Closl, if you feel so inclined. I am a working man, no lord.” He bowed and gave her a smile, thinking of his mother when she’d been much younger.
“Senior civilar,” she agreed.
“You understand what has happened?”
“Yes. Are you sure that Fannt Golsway is dead?” Tears glittered unshed in her eyes.
“There can be no mistake, dame. Two of his neighbors have identified his body just this morning.”
She raised a hand to her mouth. “Who would do such a terrible thing? He was such a good man.”
“I don’t know,” Closl said. “All that I am sure of is that Lord Piergeiron is going to want answers when I see him later this morning. He takes the protection of this city very seriously.”
“I am well aware of Lord Piergeiron’s interest in this city.”
Standing in the hallway, Closl was aware of the smell of burned flesh coming from the study. “Walk with me, dame.”
The woman fell into step beside him.
Closl lead the way down the curving steps to the lowest floor, then out beside the house where a small garden contained a number of vegetables, grape vines, and flowers. A stone wall ringed the patch of land, and Mintrivn had confirmed that it had wards of protection placed on it. Care had been taken in the placement of the small stone benches in the garden. He took a deep breath, clearing the smell of death from his nostrils.
“Is this your garden, dame?” he asked.
She looked around, her cheeks wet with tears now. “No. It was the master’s. He put it in, saying it was for me, but he spent hours out here when no one was looking. It was a habit of his since he’d quit traveling quite so much.”
“Please sit.” Closl waved to one of the benches across from an alabaster fountain with birds cut from sapphires sitting on the edge, The water trickled noisily from an artesian well that tapped an underground source, but the sound was soothing.
“Thank you.”
“I am told you had the night off last night.”
“Yes, sir. It was my routine to set the master’s table for him, then go home myself. I have three children, you see. The master was very generous with his time.”
“I understand that. I am also told that you were paid even for those days that Golsway was not at home.”
The woman nodded. “As I said, Senior Civilar Closl, the master was a very generous man.”
Closl almost smiled. In most circles, Golsway had been known as a very hard and demanding man. His research, when presented, was flawless. His lessons, when executed, were poetry.
“Tell me about last night,” the senior civilar suggested. “You prepared the eveningfeast before you left. What time did you leave?”
“Just after moonrise,” she answered.
“I’m told that was later than usual.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I prepared my own eveningfeast for my children earlier, then came back to prepare the master’s. He was entertai
ning, you see.”
“I understand that was a rare occasion.”
“True.”
“Who was he entertaining?” Closl asked. There was still the body in the drawing room burned beyond recognition to be explained, though the senior civilar had some ideas.
“Thonsyl Keraqt, the merchant.”
“Do you know what business he had with Golsway?”
“No. The master had his business, and I never pried into it.”
Closl talked for a while longer, going over the evening until he was sure he had everything the woman knew. There were no clues, nothing to suggest who had killed the men. After only a little while longer, he released her from his questioning.
She was almost to the door leading back into the house when he called for her attention.
“What can you tell me about Baylee Arnvold, dame?” he asked.
“Only that he would never have anything to do with this,” she replied without hesitation. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s been brought to my attention that there was a falling out between them in the past year.”
“Ten months ago,” the woman replied, her eyes sparking fire. “And I would like to know whose tongue has been wagging so loosely.”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal that. Those who talk to me have my confidence.”
“Then please take a message back to that person for me that they should respectfully find some other way to spend their time than passing on idle gossip.”
“I’ll consider that, should the information prove false or misleading.”
“The falling out you refer to,” the woman explained, “was nothing more than a boy growing to manhood, despite his father’s best wishes.”
Closl studied the woman. “I’d never heard that Baylee was the old mage’s son.”
“He wasn’t, by blood,” Dame Qhyst replied, “but in every other way that mattered, that was their relationship. Even the master didn’t see it till months after Baylee had left this house. And a sad awakening it was, too, because by then the master had let too much time pass to be comfortable patching the rift between them himself. And Baylee, you can be sure, is on the prideful side himself. Youth can be such a detriment.”
