The smiling lady at the Healers' Guild’s office had a forced, nervous smile. “You’d like to see your mother,” she said.
Terrance nodded.
“It might not be…” She trailed off. “You can see her, of course. But perhaps you should wait until she’s recovered…”
In the middle of her sentence Terrance walked away, towards his mother. Into the hallway, into her room.
She wasn’t there.
The smiling lady was hurrying behind him. She grasped a sheet of paper tightly in one hand and pointed with another. “She’s in here now.”
Why would they move her? Did each of the rooms have a different purpose?
He opened the door to the new room and quickly oriented himself. It seemed to be laid out in nearly the same manner as the last one.
His mother had been crying, and when he entered she burst out into a fresh round of tears.
What the hell was going on?
“Why’d they move you?” he asked as he knelt beside the bed.
She grabbed the hair on the back of his head and looked deep into his eyes. “You’re a good man, aren’t you?”
“What? Of course I am.”
“Do you ever get… evil thoughts? Urges?”
“What are you talk about, mom? What’s this have to do with anything? And why were you crying?”
“That man…”
“What man?”
She burst into tears again.
“I told you this wasn’t a good time,” said the smiling lady. The smile she wore now didn’t fit right.
Terrance let himself be dragged out of the room. Once the door was shut, he whirled on the smiling lady. “What man was she talking about? Has she had any other visitors?”
“Just the Grand Inquisitor.”
“The Grand Inquisitor? From the Mages' Guild?”
The smile broke for a half-second. The reprieve was a look of confusion. “Yes, the Grand Inquisitor. You know, the man you walked in with.”
That was the Grand Inquisitor? The man’s subordinate had killed Aaron mere minutes before they checked in to the Healers' Guild. Was that why he had stared them down in the street? Did he feel bad? If that was the case, it didn’t make sense to come back and rub salt in his victim’s wound.
“You… didn’t know who the Grand Inquisitor was…”
“I thought he was just a stranger who decided to help!”
“No one helps a stranger out to this extent without reason. Especially not him.”
“When did he come back?”
“Last night.”
“And what did he say to her?”
“They… I’m sorry, sir.” The smile was gone now. Completely wiped away. “She’s your mother. I shouldn’t speak with you about this.”
“What did they say?”
“He requested our soundproof room, sir.”
Terrance stormed back to his mother’s room for answers, but two Healers' Guild members grabbed him before he could get there. Once again he was tossed out onto their doorstep.
“We can’t have you keep acting like this. Your mother needs to heal.”
Numbers and forecasts didn’t help this time. Well, they helped, but they were bandages over a severed limb. He punched the desk in frustration, with mixed results. He liked how it made his brain feel, but hated how it made his hand feel. His next mission was to find something more amenable to punch.
The pile of leather jerkins seemed to work. They were a softer leather, meant more for defense-minded consumers than serious military folks, and the way they were stacked gave them a bit of extra give. Terrance stood over the pile and slammed his fist into it again, and again, and again.
This felt good.
Wile looked around a corner. “Really?”
“Shut up. It’s what they were made for.”
“Eh… kind of. You going to tell me what happened at the Healers' Guild?”
Terrance put in a couple more good punches. “Later.”
“I can only help if you let me.” He disappeared behind the corner again.
It was time to take this a step further. Terrance grabbed a couple mid-sized coins and hit the streets. South across the river, then past the inner walls to the city’s core.
The Bookmaker’s Guild was one of the most specialized guilds that still existed. All they did was create and sell books — real books, not the pamphlets that had recently begun to clutter the streets — but they were still important enough to the elites that they needed to be within the inner core. Mages, Palace officials, Justice officers- all more likely to buy a book than the average person off the street, and much more keen to control what was in the books.
Their building had a small storefront open to the street, then a larger area for Bookmakers to do their copying and binding, and then an even larger area for storage.
“The Mages' Guild?” asked the man behind the storefront counter.
“Yea. An overview.”
The man set out three volumes and Terrance flipped through them. Eventually he settled on two to start with- one that detailed their present-day structure and one that took a historical perspective. His coins were barely enough.
When he exited the shop, he found himself subconsciously heading to the Healers' Guild. By the time he realized it he was close enough that he might as well try. The worst thing that could happen is that they kick him out again.
The Healers' Guild looked as clean and wholesome as it always did in the front, and the smiling lady was back to her normal self.
Well, until she recognized Terrance. “I tried to stop her,” she said.
“Stop her?”
“We’re not allowed to hold lucid, functioning patients here against their will. No matter what’s best for their health.”
Oh. The encounter with the Grand Inquisitor must have really shaken her. “Are there… instructions for care?”
The smiling lady started smiling again, but didn’t relax. “Take these bandage wraps. And it looks like you can read, so take this sheet of instructions for burns. Here, put them all in this bag with your books.”
“Okay, is there anything else?”
“You should go. She just left. If you hurry, you might catch up to her.”
Terrance careened out the Healers' Guild doorway, this time of his own volition.
Where could she go? She was lucid, so she would remember the house had been burnt. That meant she would go to Wile’s shop. It was the only place.
Terrance took off jogging, scanning the crowd the whole time. He usually took back streets to get to the bridge, but his mother might not know them. He ran towards the northwest thoroughfare in as direct a path as he could manage, turned right, and saw her.
There she was, stepping onto the bridge.
There she was, at the highest point that wasn’t yet over the river proper.
There she was, climbing onto the ledge.
Jumping off.
Hitting the rocks far below.
3
A week later
“You've changed, Terrance. Ever since that... thing.”
Anne was twirling her chest-length hair, lifting it and letting it fall on her half-exposed breast. Normally he would have appreciated these clumsy attempts at seduction but there was, you know, that thing as she put it. That thing where his brother had been mutilated and killed by the Inquisitor, that thing where his mother had jumped off a bridge from grief.
You know, that thing.
The bridge-jumping- was that his fault? Her refrain of “not again, not again”… what did that mean? And why had the Grand Inquisitor taken an interest in them? He should have pushed harder for answers while he had the chance.
Anne sat down next to him, even though she knew this bench was only meant for one. It was either press against her or press against the leg of the table, so Terrance chose her. Anne smiled.
It had been nine days since Aaron died. Seven since his mother.
“You're not goin
g to join them, are you? Terrance, I want you to stick around. You were already just going back to your house for visits. Wile will let you keep staying here? I mean, I can keep visiting you here. We can do... whatever will make you feel better. Wile doesn't mind, I've talked to him about it.”
“You what?”
“I’m taking care of you, honey.”
Terrance stared at a page of the book he had open: a history of the Mages' Guild. Somehow it would all make sense. Eventually.
Then he looked at Anne, tried to put on an appreciative face. No need to lose everyone in his life. “Tomorrow, alright? I need to clear my head.”
She gave him a kiss, then reluctantly went back to her drawing. “I’ll be here. I promise.”
“Is it working?”
Terrance raised his eyebrows. “Is what working?”
“Whatever it is you’re reading,” said Wile. He was resting much of his portly frame on the counter, taking a load off his spine. They kept much of the back counter clean for just this purpose. It slowed down the process of grabbing items sometimes, but Wile collapsing or having to stick to a chair would slow things down even more. “Is it helping you feel better?”
“It’s not about feeling better.”
“Right, right. Very high-minded of you.” Wile grinned. “Is it helping you feel better?”
Slowly Terrance nodded. “Sure, I guess.”
“Well good. Now, how’s inventory?”
Terrance looked around the shop. Most of the inventory was in plain sight, but there were a couple items, like flour, that were stored in barrels, and some others which were stacked multiple levels deep so it was hard to tell at a distance how many there were. Nothing haphazard around here. Terrance had seen to that.
This was obviously a ploy to keep him distracted — damned if everyone didn’t have one of those these days — but it was appreciated.
Terrance went around the store re-cataloguing everything that was in stock, writing it down in the ledger and making sure it fit their records. The work was tedious enough to get him into a trance of counting and scratching, taking his mind off all the recent death. He also got to hear Wile banter with the occasional customer; Terrance did all the grunt-work that Wile found boring, but Wile kept the people coming back.
When Anne came around, she was pleased to find a more enthusiastic — more “normal” — Terrance than the one she had left the night before.
Very very pleased.
As she drifted off to sleep, Terrance’s mind went back to the books.
It was said that the Mages' Guild started with a beast. A great beast, rampaging across the land, killing everyone in its path, but going with a special viciousness after anyone who dared use magic.
Those who could use magic — magic was both weaker and more plentiful back then — banded together and sealed the great beast beneath the earth. Even today they protect the world both by keeping the beast sealed in its prison and by limiting the amount of magic that is used- so as to not anger the beast more than necessary.
At least that’s what the books said. Terrance wasn’t so sure that they were quite the benevolent protectors they made themselves out to be, what with all the killing the Inquisitors were doing.
Who would there be to write otherwise? Half of these histories were commissioned by the Mages' Guild themselves, and even the other half only went so far as to criticize specific policies- none dared question the very existence of the guild. An errant history could easily find its way to the flame.
The Mages' Guild of today claimed only a modest power for itself, but the histories told a different story- when they spoke to a king, the king almost always obeyed. The few times the king did not obey, a great calamity fell upon the land. Then again, this may have simply been myth-making, like the great beast origin story, meant to make the Mages' Guild seem more important and more benevolent than it actually was.
Still, there was no denying their power. They could kill anyone at will. They held counsel with the king. And they had magic- bending stone to their will, sending fireballs across the battlefield, creating marvels such as a cloak that slowed blades and rebuffed flame.
Who could stand against them?
4
“When’s the last time someone got killed drinking?”
“A year ago. Probably more recent, but we haven’t heard of it.”
“That wasn’t from drinking. That was from a chair to the head, and he just happened to be drinking.” Frederick was holding forth over his beer, even more exultant than when he was sober. “We, on the other hand, are not that foolish. We are almost that foolish, but not quite.”
“Exactly how foolish are we, then?”
Frederick had been trying to cheer Terrance up ever since the killings, but Frederick had been friends with Aaron as well, so the attempts until now had been… half-hearted. A best friend’s duty carried out despite how difficult it was. Tonight, on the other hand, he was in full swing.
“We are foolish enough to see the city, stand on the rooftops, and glory in our youth. We are not, however, foolish enough to insult the Thieves' Guild.”
“It’s not a real guild. You know that, right?”
“Yes, yes, but they organize and they kill people, so it’s pretty much the same thing.” The humor was taken out a bit by the recent circumstances, but Frederick was not one to be kept down for long. He whispered, “You need to agree, and loudly. They’re probably listening, just waiting with their killing chairs, ready to crack them over your skull.”
“Oh yes, the Thieves' Guild is the realest Guild in all of Nordheim. More respected than the Justice Guild. More intelligent than the Bookmaker Guild. Richer than the Commerce Guild. Deadlier than the Warriors' Guild. Their only weakness is that they’re so damn law-abiding. If they would only break the law once in a while, they would do so much better.”
Frederick raised his glass. “Hear, hear. I think you have earned your safety for one more day. At least, unless they can understand sarcasm.”
“I assure you, the members of the Thieves' Guild are far too smart to understand sarcasm.”
“Our safety is thus assured. We have their benevolent protection.” Frederick downed the rest of his beer and jumped out of his chair. “We shall go forth and explore the city.”
The rooftops of Nordheim were close enough for hopping, even when drunk. Tonight they were merely slightly tipsy, so the rooftops were their playground.
“Check it out. Stand up here. You can see the Palace.”
Terrance jumped up to the ledge where Frederick stood. “Don’t see it.”
“It’s… okay, get farther over here. The Mages' Guild building must be blocking your way.”
“Okay, I got it now.”
There it was, past the river, past the inner wall, illumined with the faint almost-glow of magic, although Frederick claimed not to see that part of it. Most who could see the faint aura of magic assumed it was a tribute extracted from the Mages' Guild by the King, but now Terrance wasn’t so sure. Terrance stayed in Wile’s basement, a huge favor bestowed upon Terrance, but there was no way that it could be interpreted as tribute. Here the Mages' Guild was certainly bestowing favor upon the Palace, but which organization’s legitimacy would be hurt more if the favor was withdrawn?
Terrance doubted most of the people would see it that way, at least until the favor was actually withdrawn. Power was funny like that.
The Mages' Guild was high in his mind, but that same line of thinking could be applied to all the other Guilds. If the Warriors' Guild withdrew its favor, the other cities could refuse to pay their taxes until favor was restored. Each of the other Guilds also played a vital role, and the city would be crippled without any of them. Except the Mages' Guild, of course, but the Mages' Guild had magic. Power was its own justification.
“You’re thinking again,” said Frederick. “I thought I warned you about that.”
“Look who’s talking. How many books do you have?”
<
br /> “They’re just books on Justice. So I can join the Guild. A bunch of rules, precedents, enforcement strategies- hardly any thinking required at all. We just go in and do what has always been done. We have a nice life, a nice society.”
Terrance snorted.
“I mean, aside from the whole Mages' Guild part. It could be worse, right? We’ve got order. Most everyone’s got food. If you work hard, you can get a job and be taken care of. You know what happens in the Southern Wastes? They put up some cloth, hold it up with sticks, and sleep there. They hope that a wolf doesn’t grab them in the night. They hope that they can catch a buffalo or dig up some roots- sometimes they go days without eating. And all that thinking- always deciding, always having to know which way the wind is blowing, where things are… here we’ve just got the rules, and you’ve just got to not break them, and you’ve got a pretty good life.”
“You realize these rules killed Aaron not even a month ago.”
“My point is you don’t have to think. Not like you do in the wild. And you, you’re here thinking like a wild man.”
A breeze came in, bringing with it the smell of the river. “Sleeping out in the wild sounds pretty good right now. Get away from everything.”
“Oh you can’t be serious. Leave Anne? Let Wile’s store fall apart?”
Terrance shook his head. “No, not serious.”
“Good.” Frederick sat down and hung his legs in the thin alley between the rooftops. It was getting colder. “You know, out in the wild, sometimes a storm kicks up strong enough to kill a man. Wind kicks up, knocks a tree down. Branch hits you just wrong and boom, you’re gone. Have you ever tried taking revenge on a storm? It’s not easy.”
Past the Mages' Guild, past the palace, past the outer wall, lay the vast Southern Wastes. Somewhere beyond that, beyond where the eye could see, was where the storms formed.
“I’d still try.”
5
The texts all agreed: taking down the Mages' Guild would take nothing short of a miracle. That’s why Terrance walked up the perfectly defined steps, past the gravity-defying looping stone pillars, and into the recruitment office of the Mages' Guild.
Mages Must Fall Page 2
