The mat was only big enough for one.
He had thought it over. Stayed up into the night analyzing the last few days. Thought through the implications.
In the morning he was shaking but resolute.
The wind whipped him as he walked from his new apartment to the training grounds.
When he got there, he routed around where Adolfo, Angelika, and Klaus would be, and instead found Johanna. She was leaning against a pillar on the outer edge of an otherwise empty courtyard.
He walked up to her, grabbed her roughly.
She giggled. “Looks like I finally got your attention.”
He ignored it. Picked her up and shoved her high against the pillar.
A hint of worry crept into her face as she realized her feet couldn’t touch the ground. Her defense training wasn’t nearly as effective from here.
“I have powerful friends,” she said. “They can get away with anything. Punish anyone. There won’t even be a trial.”
“I know,” said Terrance. Why else would he do this?
He hesitated, and then he did it.
He kissed her.
As he dropped her and pulled back, she squeaked in surprise- an innocent, feminine squeak that was almost endearing- and grabbed his shirt to bring him close again. She paused for a moment, inhaling deeply to drink in his scent.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” she said, smiling ferociously.
She tripped him as she had in class, knocking him over onto his back.
After a very brief struggle she was sitting on his stomach, hands placed on either side of his head and pinning both his arms with her knees.
From there she leaned down, kissed him. A kiss that started gentle but invigorated itself until the fury left them both breathless.
“We’re going to be very powerful together, you and I.”
Part III
Rescues
14
One and a half years later.
Johanna had been distant since she learned of the pregnancy.
“My father says I shouldn’t do anything rough.” It was the only explanation she gave, and the only one Terrance needed. Her work at the Department of Genealogy separated them physically- the buildings might be next to each other, but they only rarely met by chance.
Whatever emotional bond had formed, he was glad to clear it from his mind. Her insight into the power structures of the Mages' Guild — and her help in climbing them during the apprenticeship phase of their training — had certainly been helpful. Her scent, her body, the way she smiled when they were alone, the way she sometimes cried in her sleep — all of those were harmful to his mission.
He’d forgotten how much those distractions needed to go.
They were a block from the target.
John could barely contain his excitement. Same as every time. It was disgusting, but John’s excited negligence helped keep Terrance’s true feelings hidden.
Every time he went on an Inquisition, Terrance regretted switching from the Department of Resource Management… but his new plan required it. Johanna had been smiling every step of the way as she helped maneuver him into the most exclusive — and most hated — Department in the Guild.
“Aren’t you excited?” John asked. “I remember my test. Like it was yesterday. Watching someone, even doing a part of it… nothing like leading it. And all of those things are nothing like going out on your own, making art. Making… Draw your sword! Come on, draw your sword! I won’t tell them that you were nervous, it’s okay.”
Terrance pulled out his sword and approached the door. Knocked.
A man answered. There was no glow of magic about him, so he wasn’t the target.
The man’s eyes grew wide and his body shook. He knew what was about to happen.
They pushed past him, tracing the magic. Some of it had already dissipated, making the signal a bit harder to track, but a good three quarters was still held in the target’s body.
Terrance tracked it to the room next door.
A young woman, maybe fourteen.
She showed no fear. Perhaps she had never seen an Inquisitor before.
“Careful,” said John. “They’re dangerous when they’re like this.”
But she wasn’t dangerous. She didn’t have a sword. She didn’t have self-defense training. She was half his size. And, most importantly, she didn’t know how to control the magic she had recently used.
Terrance remembered when Anne had been like this, back when they had first met. So long ago. He nearly teared up as he hacked the girl to pieces and arranged those pieces in the proscribed manner.
Head fully detached from the body. Right arm an inch away from the left leg socket. Spike it to the ground. Left leg an inch away from the right arm socket. Spike it to the ground. Right leg and left arm done in the same fashion. Blood and magic gushing into the empty spaces.
They collected the magic and left the blood for the family.
Twenty minutes after they had pushed through the doorway, they left.
John was nearly skipping. “Doesn’t it feel good to set things right?”
Terrance and Frederick sat in the same bar as always.
“It’s been a while this time.”
“Been busy.”
“Killing?”
Terrance nodded.
These meetings had gotten more somber, less frequent, over the past two years. Frederick didn’t approve of Johanna. Anne was a painful memory, abandoned, to be taken up by another man while she still had her health and youth. Wile… he really should’ve visited before he needed something.
The Justice Guild played its part in the dampening of spirits; the guild members they sent to police merchant neighborhoods were the kindest and gentlest on the force, selected for that role by temperament and kept that way, unsullied, by their favorable position. The other members- they saw things.
Frederick was meant for the merchant neighborhoods, but his pranks had angered one too many of the higher-ups and he ended up guarding the worst of the worst.
The pranks stopped.
Everything about Frederick had stopped except the drinking.
But they still had a history. And Frederick was the one person most privy to Terrance’s plans.
Terrance shared the latest iteration.
“I can get one for you,” said Frederick. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. The Frederick of the past would have made a nervous joke, avoided the subject. Frederick today just asked for more details on what was needed.
“What time can you get one?”
“No one keeps track of these guys. Usually I can get you one in fifteen minutes and no one’s the wiser. When the day comes they just line’em up and take’em out, one after another. Just use the uniform I gave you.”
Terrance nodded. Business concluded.
They sat there with their beers staring into space for quite some time.
“How’s Sally?”
Frederick shrugged. “Still a bitch. But better than everyone in that jail, and she’s got my kid inside her.”
Terrance chuckled, the first time all night. “Yea. I know what you mean.”
When Terrance walked into the store something felt wrong.
The arrangement of the shelves- he scanned them, but everything fit with the pattern he expected from Wile. Even through all the experimentation there was something about Wile’s arrangements that carried on between iterations.
“Frederick kept telling me you were alive, but I didn’t believe him!” Wile said.
“You haven’t visited either.”
Wile pointed to his waistline, then to his shop. “I have my reasons.”
“Has Frederick told you about the plan?”
“Enough to be worried. You really want to use my shop?”
“Unless you know another place that’s hidden enough, and that can get regular shipments of food and materials without attracting notice.”
Wile sighed. “Basement’s empty any
ways.”
“Still can’t find another apprentice? Frederick told me.”
“Went through my fourth. None of them can stock the shelves right.”
Terrance had imagined a new apprentice taking his place, pushing him out. Whenever he thought of visiting, he thought of someone else sleeping in his bed, someone putting their own books on his bookshelf, someone messing with his inventory system. Someone else joking around with Wile, treating him almost like a father.
But this was even worse.
Wile hadn’t moved on. Instead, he was waiting on the return of a person who no longer existed.
Since Terrance had left that basement, he had killed. He had schemed. Even if he wanted it- and sometimes he truly did want it- he couldn’t go back to stocking shelves and running inventory. Not for long.
Terrance shook hands with Wile. “We’ll make justice happen.”
Wile chuckled, a hint of his old humor. “Something like that.”
As he walked away from the store, Terrance finally figured out what felt wrong. But it was far too late to change course now.
15
That night Terrance could barely sleep. He kept going over the steps of the plan, looking for holes.
There were plenty.
But he couldn’t write them down and leave traces of his subversion. Not here, at least, the first place the Guild would check upon suspicion. So they kept rattling around and disrupting his rest.
The next day he entered the Mages' Guild, for the first time, as a Journeyman Inquisitor. Not a trainee, as he had been for the last year, nor a Master, as he would be in another year or two depending on performance, but a Journeyman. A little badge was added to his cloak, and his esteem in the eyes of the other Inquisitors had risen, but other than that very little changed about his day-to-day activities. He still trained his body for agility and power. He still trained with the sword. He still studied magic and history and logistics while the other Inquisitors lounged. A small section of the library opened up, the tiny section between the general-purpose library and the books reserved for Masters.
What did change was that when his turn came for an Inquisition, he would be doing it alone.
“You excited?” John asked him. “Remember, I’ll be coming around after you’re done to inspect the arrangement, so I’ve still got your back.”
“You know I’m ready.”
“Good. Because the signal just came in, and you’re up.” John pointed in the northerly direction. There were several magical signatures in that direction, but most were close- clearly within the Mages' Guild compound. Another set, in the northeast direction, were where the Department of Works was fixing some roads that day. One to the north, fainter than the rest, was about a mile off. That was his target.
Terrance put on his cloak and sword, keeping his movements slow and steady to show that he wasn’t worried. It was difficult.
He walked out of the Mages' Guild towards the direction of the magic until he was out of sight, then quickly turned east. Over the past few weeks he had built a map of the entire city in his head for just this occasion. He had memorized what each major thoroughfare looked like, knew how the landmarks appeared from any angle, and — most importantly — could find his way to the prison, the Mages' Guild compound, and each of Wile’s safehouses from anywhere.
Luckily the prison was only five minutes out of the way this time. Two blocks over he found the alleyway crevice where he had stuffed the guard’s uniform. He removed the mage cloak and put on the guard’s top and cap instead. His undergarments were nicer than a guard would wear, but hopefully no one would get close enough to notice. The pants were specifically chosen to work with both garments.
He took the knife from his undergarment pocket and put it in the guard uniform. The keys were already there. In the knife’s place he stuffed the mage cloak.
He approached the prison and was immediately glad of the time he had spent here with Frederick after hours, familiarizing himself with how these things worked. The front door was recognizable, since there was an armed guard and the crowd left a semi-circle opening around it, but the side entrance — where most of the business got done — was down another alleyway and seldom noticed by those not part of the system. He flipped through the keys and found the right one; he only needed one key for the job, but a lone key might be considered suspicious. The others were dummies.
The guard on the inside saluted him, and he saluted back. It wasn’t Frederick.
Terrance silently cursed, but they had a backup plan. “I’m here to get a prisoner.”
“Which one?”
“One of the murder-y ones. He won’t be back.”
The guard chuckled. “Who’s he for? Entertainment or warning?”
“Warning. Upper Patania is getting a bit rough. Better to have too much justice displayed than not enough.”
Terrance had memorized three districts — one north, one south, and one east of the jail — that had recently seen crime spikes. Had practiced the way that the dregs of the Justice Guild talked, paying special attention to memorizing a few phrases that were said almost ritually. All so he could get someone out without suspicion if Frederick wasn’t the one standing there when the time came. The guard obliged, coming back a couple minutes later with a beaten-down ruffian he called Turnic.
“Killed three kids, this one did. So make sure you kill ’im in front of three hundred if you can.”
“His death will be useful.”
The guard nodded with satisfaction, and then they were out.
Turnic was chained hand and foot, but that wouldn’t do. Couldn’t make it to their target fast enough. Terrance leaned down to undo the leg chains, but was caught by a blow to the head from Turnic. Shit. He berated himself for poor planning- how could he not guess that a murderer would get ornery? But at least the bump on the head could be attributed to either his training or a struggle at the house, depending on how it showed up.
Subduing the prisoner wasn’t even a conscious move on Terrance’s part. He was so much better fed, and so much better trained, and not in chains, so after the shock of the initial attack had worn off he had been able to let his mind wander while his body pinned Turnic. The chains were actually a bit of a hindrance to Terrance since he hadn’t practiced on anyone wearing them before, but the other factors more than made up for it.
He pulled out the knife and made thin slits in the prisoner’s elbow creases. Not enough to bleed him out, but enough to make moving them painful. Another set of cuts on the upper arms and by the shoulder blades. Then he flipped the prisoner onto his stomach and sat on him before attempting to remove the leg shackles.
Turnic didn’t make any more attempts after that.
The whole affair had taken almost as much time as they saved by removing the leg shackles, but at least he had learned a lesson for next time.
No, can’t think of next time yet. Just get this one done.
Some people stared at the guard and the prisoner while others pointedly looked away. Most simply ignored them; prisoners and guards were a common enough sight in this part of the city. However, the crowd didn’t part as they would for an Inquisitor. They arrived at the house of the illicit magic user thirty minutes later than if he had simply walked straight from the Mages' Guild.
This next part would have to go fast. Otherwise he would be gone on assignment suspiciously long.
He knocked on the door. The person answering did not become paralyzed as Terrance was used to; without the Inquisitor’s garb, he would have to give an explanation. “Someone in here used magic illicitly.”
There it was. There was that expression. Confusion and fear mixed into one.
“Who are you?”
“I’m the person who’s going to save them. But only if you hurry. Otherwise I’ll slaughter all of you and say that you resisted.”
“You don’t look like an Inquisitor.”
Terrance pulled the mage cloak out of his pocket, let the man feel
it. “Now will you cooperate, or do I have to kill you and your entire family?”
The man stepped back and sighed. “We’ll cooperate. You say you’ll save our son?”
“At least give him a shot.”
“That’s all we can ask for. I’ll show you to where he is.”
“I know where he is. Just show me the stairs.” The magical signature was clear. Second story.
Terrance took off the guard’s clothing and replaced it with the mage cloak, then made sure to get everything back into the right pockets. Turnic gaped. “Will you be freeing me too?”
Terrance laughed. Maybe he had absorbed some of the Inquisitors’ sadism. “If you cooperate, you’ll get a quick and painless death. Let’s go. All of you.”
The boy looked to be about thirteen. So young.
“You have a choice,” said Terrance. “You used magic illegally. The Mages' Guild sent me to kill you. You can either die here while your family watches, or you can go to safety. But with that safety comes a cost — it will be a life of constant work, study, pain, and maybe even death. Either way, you won’t see your family again for quite some time. Which do you choose?”
The boy looked to his parents with only a hint of panic. “Is… is this a joke?”
The father shook his head.
“This is the way of the world,” said Terrance. “You used magic. I can still see the traces on you. My guild says I have to kill you, but I’m giving you a chance to fight.”
“Choose life,” his father said. “I’d rather have you living somewhere else than dead on my floor.”
“Fine.” The boy’s hands were shaking but his voice held study. “What do I do?”
“First, we have to cleanse you.” That was what they called this procedure- a cleansing. But killing the person wasn’t the only way to do it. Terrance brought out a small device and held it to the boy’s skin.
The boy cried out as the magic left him. Cleansing complete.
Mages Must Fall Page 7
