The Sorcerer of Wands: Azabar's Icicle Part 2

by Jem I Kelley

  “It’s still better than being a stupid market porter.”

  “Sometimes… sometimes I wonder,” said Alicia, an edge to her voice. “They don’t have to live up to any ideal. People accept those two just as they are. Not just their parents, I mean everybody.”

  “You and Munter don’t.”

  “Well… most people! You know, even when I graduate I know Kesskran will expect me to work for Dazarian. I just want to explore new worlds, make money, and be powerful. I don’t want to be a spy!”

  There was a brief pause on the other side of the Wall, as if Alicia’s outburst had shocked or embarrassed her sisters.

  “I thought,” said Vicky, “That you didn’t like the friends because they snubbed you the day they came back from Dazarian.”

  Alicia’s voice was trite.

  “Their behaviour that day didn’t help. When I saw them standing there at the Wall, I though they were daring. I thought they had stolen those emeralds to help their impoverished families and to advance themselves in the world. Imagine if they really had stolen those gems, kept them hidden until their release from prison, what strength of character, what willpower.”

  She sighed. “It’s a dog eat dog world and you have to fight for yourself and your family. I thought that’s what they were, for a moment, fighters. They’re not, they’re just pathetic losers.”

  Bliss mouthed a silent, ‘wow’ and rolled her eyes.

  “Look at this,” said Vicky with a tone suggesting she had spotted another news item on the Wall. “It’s expected that Ronald Styme-Simmons and Melinda Snodball-archduke will be announcing their engagement at the upcoming Adventurine Anniversary Ball.”

  “Ronald’s getting married to that bitch?” said Alicia. “Have you seen her thighs lately? Like tree trunks.”

  “Ronald’s such a dream too,” said Vicky. “I wish I was a few years older. He’d probably notice me instead of Snodpants.”

  Ronald and the Anniversary Ball dominated the conversation and Aden thought that he’d heard all he needed to. He motioned to Bliss and the two edged backwards, then on to Axel Road.

  The girls never knew they’d been there.

  “What about that?” said Bliss, as they made their way past impressive houses with small but expensive glazed windows.

  “So that’s how the Wall works,” said Aden, “Sardohan is up to something, but his girls don’t know what.”

  Bliss chuckled.

  “She’s not very keen on us, is she? It looks like you'll never get a date with Alicia now, oh dear.”

  Aden smiled. “What a shame.”

  They arrived at Mr. Giles house and Bliss tapped the brass gargoyle knocker.

  “Free park is in the poor district,” said Bliss. “I think Windor is that one on the far edge of the Merchant district, near the fountains. Don’t know about Regal.”

  “Near the Palace,” said Aden.

  “Then Regal is probably closest. What if we went to a park each, and said something about Sardohan, for an experiment like?”

  “We don’t want them to guess we know the Wall’s secret.”

  “I want to get my own back on them. Go on, let’s just have a little fun?”

  Bliss looked at Aden expectantly, and Aden sighed. “Oh, all right. What if, after handing over these creatures, I rush to Regal and say under my breath that Alicia’s legs look like twigs on a branch. You go to Windor and say the same thing. We’ll then meet back at the Wall and see if it’s printed anything? With luck the girls will still be there?”

  Bliss’s clapped his hands. “That’ll do.”

  The door to Mr. Giles house opened and a servant with oiled hair took the boxes from the friends; nonchalantly scribbled a signature and shut the door in their faces.

  As the door closed, Aden and Bliss ran in separate directions.

  Chapter 54: Horror in Candle-Maker Lane

  Five minutes later, Aden arrived at Regal Park. It was surrounded by the grandest buildings in Haverland; buildings that became the temporary residences of the royalties of other countries when they visited.

  This, thought Aden, is where the rumour about Ronald what’s its face would have come from. The sorcerer who’d created the Wall had been clever in using the three parks. Rumour from Regal would be all about the rich. Whispers from Windor would be from the middle classes; gossip from Free Park would give clues to the concerns of the poor.

  As Aden found a wrought iron bench and sat, he wondered whether any other Haverlanders knew how the Wall worked. An awful amount of power could be gained by creating the right rumours and the right gossips, he realised. Power like that was something people might want to keep to themselves.

  Possibly, he thought, there were groups who had discovered how the Wall worked and who had kept that knowledge to themselves. If the royalty knew, they could learn about public opinion and boost their image when needed.

  If a trader knew about the three parks he could make trouble for his competitors. A subtle word here and a comment there could ensure the competitor’s profits weren’t as good as his.

  Aden found the possibilities disconcerting; after all, Haverland wasn’t perfect but he had always considered it a good place compared to countries like Dazarian. But what if there were groups and families that had prospered over the centuries due to this subtle and exclusive manipulation of the news on the Wall?

  The early morning sun warmed his face as he sat back in the empty park. It was quiet except for the chirping of birds; it felt silly to mutter about Alicia now. A pang of guilt shot through him too. He realized why Alicia didn’t like him and Bliss. It was because she viewed her own life as so much more difficult than theirs. In some ways, he could see how it was.

  Then again, even if she had reasons to resent Bliss and himself, it didn’t mean she had to cause trouble for them. A bit of her own medicine wouldn’t hurt.

  He guessed Bliss had reached Windor park by now, which was further from the Wall then this park. If he spoke his piece of ‘news’, he was certain Bliss would repeat it within ten minutes.

  He glanced at the opened shutters of the large houses. What would people think seeing a boy muttering to himself?

  “Alicia Sardohan has legs like twigs,” he said in a whisper. “And a nose like a woodpecker’s.”

  Right, he thought, that’s the score settled.

  He stood, job done and started back for the Wall. He entered Regal Parade at a jog, then he stopped, puzzled.

  A man with blonde hair had been striding along the flagstones of Regal Parade pavement before turning to trot up steps to the door of a house.

  The man, Aden realized, was Marti Bart.

  Marti lived and worked in the merchant district, but, thought Aden, must deliver the occasional item to rich people.

  Normally Aden would have hailed Marti, but after the strange meeting between the Novogoradian and the three men in the shadows of the library alley, Aden decided to watch Marti, unnoticed.

  Aden pulled close to the railings of a pale house, in case Marti glanced his way. He felt uncomfortable watching his friend. But then, he’d only known Marti for a matter of weeks and the museum incident highlighted the man wasn’t all he seemed.

  He popped his head out to look and found Marti had gone. He must have entered the house whose steps he’d climbed. Aden heard a door shut in the direction of the house.

  He moved to the centre of the pavement and walked along the street, trying to look normal. It helped that the place was deserted. A butler appeared from a mansion on the other side of the road and shook out a cloth; staring at Aden with suspicion.

  As Aden passed houses, he couldn’t help but notice the brass plaques at their entrances: “Prince Offburgsson of Solant”, read one; “Duke OttoOtto of Alick Free City”; “Brood Chief TTanestssi of Issyria”; “ Gloroc of Iron Holm”.

  He felt a chill as he saw the plaque on the house beside the one that Marti had entered: “Baron Tanest, Dazarian: Governor of Lord Kesskran’
s prisons and Chief of his Secret Police”. Aden stared up at the casement windows. Once he’d have thought them grand. With their dozens of small expensive panes the houses in this street probably contained more glass than anywhere else in Haverland, except perhaps the Cathedral.

  Now, in comparison to the magnificent glass he’d seen in the deserted town of the alien artefact world, he was less impressed. The windows, impenetrable and dark, stared back at him.

  He moved to the next house, the one Marti had entered. He looked beside the door for a plaque. There was none. Perhaps, thought Aden hopefully, this was the Novogoradian Embassy. But if so, why no plaque?

  He shook his head. He didn’t know how to make sense of it all. Bliss was waiting in the park for him, so Aden broke into a run again. Hacknor would be 'on their backs' if they didn’t report to Theodore Stig soon.

  He exited Regal Parade, entered Majestic Row, and continued running. Passing from the Royal District, he encountered more people. He had to dodge and swerve. Other porters cried greetings to him, merchants hurried along and cab drivers fed their horses.

  Eight roads later he turned to enter Candlemakers Lane: a short-cut to the Wall. He almost bumped into Hamble. The wood golem was moving uncharacteristically fast on his hands, brush rattling in the bin on his back.

  “Where you off to?” asked Aden.

  Hamble pulled a long face making a sound like a thousand splinters snapping.

  “Supposed to be at Embassy Street,” he said glumly. “But Hacknor had me tidying the market again. He had me tidying the market again because he says he wants to get the stench of skeletons from the air.”

  “I have to meet Bliss at the Wall,” said Aden.

  “Sardohan isn’t going to be happy I’m late.” said Hamble. “But then, he’s never happy anyway.”

  “Stuff him,” said Aden. “If he’s so unhappy with your cleaning, he’ll have paid someone else to do his street. He just likes moaning.”

  “I suppose so,” said Hamble, looking down on Aden. “But I can’t stay and talk. I can’t talk when I know Sardohan is unhappy. When he’s unhappy he starts to shout.”

  “That’s okay Hamble. Neither can I stand and talk. I’ll pop in to see you dinner time.”

  Aden left Hamble, and rushed down Candlemaker’s Lane. The rear tallow houses, inns and dye merchants all backed onto this windy place. Boxes and rubbish, placed the previous day, littered the floor.

  There was a smell of wax and burning.

  Aden dodged the boxes and pictured the expression on Bliss’s face after reading about Alicia’s legs on the Wall. Near the end of the alley, from out of a pile of boxes he caught a glimpse of something that didn’t look right and stopped.

  Four pale candles were sticking out from a pile of boxes. They protruded in a way that was odd. Aden bent down to look at them, to see what it was that had caught his attention and his blood ran cold.

  He grabbed hold of the empty boxes and threw them aside. Lying on the floor was Munter. Pale, almost white, and clearly dead. It was the fingers from his outstretched hands that had caught Aden’s attention.

  Aden felt his legs go weak. He couldn’t see wounds on the youth. There was just this paleness of the skin. It occurred to him now what had been odd about Spuds body. In the dark, he hadn’t consciously realised what it was. Spuds body had been this pale too.

  Aden shuddered, what should he do? Find a policeman.

  He heard voices, people approaching the end of the lane...

  “... have to get measured up for the Adventurine ball. I’ve got nothing decent to wear and I can’t let these Haverland girls....”

  The voice stopped and there was a gasp, Alicia and her sisters had entered the lane, and saw Aden standing beside the body.

  One of the sisters screamed.

  People came from all directions.

  It was a whirl: tallow makers in dungarees, red faced men from inns, merchants with long side burns.

  Within moments a crowd surrounded Aden.

  “What happened?” said a man wearing a striped apron: a butcher.

  Alicia pointed at Aden. “His name’s Aden Green. He had a fight with Munter,” she pointed at the body, “yesterday. Now he’s killed him.”

  The crowds’ eye’s hardened.

  Alicia seemed quite pleased with herself.

  “What have you got to say lad,” said the butcher.

  Aden looked at stony faces and swallowed. “Just found him. He was hidden under boxes.”

  “It was you who found that Spud person, too,” said Alicia.

  Mutterings ran around the crowd.

  “Is that true?” said the butcher. “You found the other one which was murdered?”

  Aden flicked his tongue over his top lip and nodded.

  “Something dodgy here,” said a voice.

  “You’re the one that got that Disc-Artefact from the Dazarians too aren’t you? Go on, don’t try and deny it,” said an old women voice.

  “I reckon he works for Kesskran!” slurred a man with a green bottle in his hand.

  The crowd edged closer and Aden felt scared. One man had a walking stick and tapped it on his palm.

  “Let’s not be hasty!” shouted the butcher, putting up his hands.

  “Beat the truth out of the lad!” said a voice.

  Aden edged back, until he touched a wall.

  The crowd crept nearer.

  Then a whistle blew.

  “Make way!”

  Plumbert came shoving through the crowd. He stopped, saw Aden, Munter’s body and took in the situation. He put his fingers to Munter’s neck, and then withdrew them, his eyes narrowed.

  “What happened?” He took off his cape and covered the body with it.

  “He’s a killer!” said the man with the green bottle.

  “Aden?” said Plumbert.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “We’ll get the truth from him!” said a voice.

  Plumbert blew loudly on his whistle, then faced the crowd.

  “This is police business,” he said.

  The crowd were sullen.

  “We want justice!” said a voice.

  Two more policemen pushed past the crowd.

  “Is everything all right, Sarge?” asked one.

  “No, looks like another murder. I’m taking this lad with me. Can you handle things here?”

  “No problem, Sarge.”

  “Right!” shouted Plumbert. “The boy and I are going. You will make way for us.”

  “This is the second body this boy’s found,” said the old woman.

  “Who’s goin’ to be next,” said a brawny fellow who stepped before Plumbert and then folded his arms.

  Another policeman arrived.

  “Draw truncheons lads,” said Plumbert. “Now, I repeat myself. Me and the lad are going. I’m taking him home. I checked the body for a pulse when I arrived here. There was none. I found the corpse cold. This means the murder was committed some time ago, not recently by this boy.”

  Mutterings came from the crowd. “He might have killed him earlier and came back to the scene of the crime,” said a voice. “They say you do that, come back to the scene of a crime.”

  “Move aside as the Policemen says,” countered another member of the crowd. “This is Haverland, not Dazarian. The police deal with this, not us!”

  Reluctantly the crowd separated. Plumbert nodded to Aden, and the two walked through the gap.

  Chapter 55 : Jail

  Plumbert was puzzled. “Why did they think you killed Munter?”

  Aden glanced back at the crowd, accusing eyes met his. He sighed and increased his pace to keep up with the Sergeant.

  “I’d just found Munter’s body and Alicia came round the corner with her sisters and found me with it. Their screams brought a crowd. Alicia told everyone about my fight with Munter yesterday and then told them it was me who’d found Spud’s body too.”

  Plumbert slid the truncheon back into its holder. �
�Crowds of people can be dangerous, especially if some of them have been drinking. It ain’t hard to stir ‘em up. I’ve a good mind to talk to the Ambassador about his daughter’s actions.”

  Aden was glad of Plumbert’s presence. Even if the crowd had turned nasty Aden was confident Plumbert would have managed to protect him. After all, he’d held off the spiders of Arachnia long enough for the expedition to evacuate to Haverland all those years ago, hadn’t he? Holding off a few drunks and malcontents shouldn’t be hard.

  They passed a row of carriages, their drivers waiting for custom from gentlemen in the nearby banks. The men looked bored and their horses punched the ground with their hoofs, or ruffled their manes causing flies to swarm. A pungent odour filled the air.

  The driver of the last carriage toyed with the liripipe of his grey hood and gave Aden a stare sodden with hate. This was somebody who didn’t even know him, but felt hatred: such people existed in every city. What Plumbert said about crowds easy to stir up made sense. All it takes is a few men like this carriage driver, thought, Aden; men who have turned sour by how the world has treated them, to gather and find an excuse to vent their emotions.

  Aden shivered and turned from the man.

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  Plumbert walked with care. Most of the city didn’t have anything as new fangled as the sewer network in place around the Disc-Artefact Academy. The gulley beside each pavement normally flowed with sewage; but, this street had a blockage, there were places on the pavement best not trod. The workers here wore pattens to raise and protect their shoes.

  Plumbert took a stride between islands of clean pavement. “I think we’d better go to the station and put you in the cells.”