The gang boss gave Rawk a small nod, then turned back to his charges. “Don’t just stand there, you lazy louts. Get back to work.”
They hadn’t even slowed. They had laid another five pavers while the conversation took place, though Rawk guessed they’d been ready to step in and help if it was required.
Rawk took a deep breath and continued down the hill. When he reached Juskin’s shop, he found the little old man was sitting at the counter reading. It looked like he had been there some time.
“You are lucky you caught me,” he said. “I was about to close up.”
“No, you’re lucky. I have money.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Why?”
“You look... Something.”
Rawk shrugged. “I just saw a dwarf giving a human hell.”
Juskin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“The world is changing.”
“Don’t I know that.” Rawk took a deep breath. “So how’s business?”
Juskin sighed. “You know that as well, Rawk. I am one of the last book shops in Katamood and I still cannot make any money.”
Rawk took out his purse. “How much do I owe you?”
Juskin checked his ledger and Rawk counted out the coins. There were still a few left over when he was done. “Have you ever thought of getting out of the book business?”
“I’m too old to start over. What would I do?”
“You could work for me.”
Juskin laughed. “I think I am too old to be a squire. And besides, the way Travis talks that position is already taken.”
“He says that, does he?”
“Not blatantly.”
“Well, anyway, no, I don’t want a squire. I want... Well, I want someone to do all sorts of things.”
“Such as?”
“This is between you and me, all right?”
“Yes.”
Rawk looked around, as if someone might have magically appeared in the shop which, with all the portals opening around Katamood, was entirely possible. “I own the Hero’s Rest.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And Travis has recently been officially promoted to manager, but he could use some help with the accounts and things like that. My healer is also using my library for research and she could use some help as well; she is working to a bit of a deadline.”
“And how much do you pay. I say the book business is going badly, and I complain, but it is still enough to let me keep a roof over my head and food on my table.”
“I will pay you enough.” He clinked his purse, as if that would prove he could pay. “Do you own this building or are you leasing it?”
“I own it.”
“Well, there you are, you can lease out the shop and make a fortune.”
“It is about to fall down.”
“Look, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I heard that you hired a dwarf.”
“You don’t want to work with a dwarf?” Rawk had not given the matter much thought, but he had assumed that Juskin would have no problem with things like that. He didn’t know why. Not too long ago he’d thought it was normal and sensible to not like dwarves.
“I can work with a dwarf, I was just trying to work out where I fit in to everything.”
“So you don’t want a dwarf telling you what to do?”
“What I mean is, am I just another charity case or are my services genuinely required?”
“Oh, right. Biki is not a charity case. Not completely. Her services were required, and so are yours. I’ve owned the Rest for years, and some other businesses, but haven’t really done much about growing them. I’m making a fortune because of the efforts of others, but I’ve taken a bit more interest in the businesses and also decided that it would be great to do some good for others while I’m doing some good for myself.”
“Very well. I accept your offer.”
“Excellent. The hours you work may be a bit strange, but you will be compensated appropriately.”
Juskin’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to start immediately, don’t you? But I can’t afford to just ignore the shop completely and leave all the stock sitting here.”
“I’ll buy the stock.”
“Pardon.”
“I’ll buy it. Then I can sell it at my leisure.” He looked around. “Or keep it.”
“No, I could not—”
“My healer needs the help as soon as possible, Juskin. When you talk to her you’ll understand.”
“So, right now?”
“Yes.”
Juskin sighed and closed his book. “Let me get my coat and I will lock up.”
The doorbell clanged as someone entered and Rawk turned around. Weaver was standing there in deliberately martial finery, guard at his shoulder, sneer on his face.
“A bookshop? Really, Rawk, how far the mighty have fallen.”
“I was never mighty, Weaver.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you are correct.” He nodded to his follower and the man opened the door. Another half a dozen soldiers were waiting outside. “We have come to search this premises. I have reason to believe that fugitive exots are hiding here.”
Rawk looked at Juskin. Juskin looked at Rawk. The old man shrugged.
“That’s it?” Weaver said, obviously disappointed. “We are going to search your shop and your house and that is your reaction?”
Juskin pushed his spectacles up onto his face. “Will you stop if I complain and protest my innocence?”
“Of course not.”
“Then complaining would be wasting my time and energy; at my age I don’t have a lot of either to spare.”
Weaver swore, then turned to the soldiers crowding the shop. “Get out of here. Back to the barracks.”
“Aren’t we searching, Your Highness?”
Weaver’s sneer grew. “He obviously has nothing to hide. Or if he does, he has hidden it well enough to make sure nobody can find it.” He swore again, glaring hatred at Juskin, then followed the guards out onto the street.
Rawk stood silently because he wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“A friend of yours?” Juskin asked.
“Apparently.” He checked over his shoulder, not trusting that Weaver hadn’t left a spy somewhere. “Come on then, get this placed closed up so we can go.”
Juskin pottered about for ten minutes, seemingly not quiet sure what to do. Eventually, he looked around and sighed.
“You can come back, you know? If you like, you can just come down when you have some free time and sit behind the counter and hope people come in.”
“I have owned this shop for...” He looked up at the ceiling as he calculated. “I’ve been here for nearly twenty-five years.”
Rawk looked around too. He picked a book off the shelf. The Time Between Menalor and Kirten. It was covered in dust and there was a tear in the cover. “I think this book has been here for twenty-five years as well.”
Juskin took the book and shoved it back on the shelf. “I thought you were in a hurry.” He went to the door and held it open for Rawk.
If they were being followed, Rawk could not see the man in the last rush of afternoon traffic. A while ago he’d known every man in the City Guard; now, he was lucky to know half of them. Rawk took them on a winding course. He bought some pastries then, a few streets further on, a beautiful ledger that he might find a use for one day. He didn’t know if he could bore the tail to sleep, but he was hoping. Their random path took them past the Tapalar mansion. It was a long time since Rawk had seen the place and it was almost unrecognizable. Yardi’s workers had been hard at it. Much of the facade had been rebuilt and painted. The plants at the front had been trimmed or pulled out completely. It was almost as if Bree had come back after one of her month long holidays and declared that her next mission was to set things right. Rawk still missed her. Her laugh had been the one sure thing that would make him fee
l better. But he wondered what she would think of him now, an old man living off past glories and not really happy with it.
Juskin stopped to look. “Katamood hasn’t been the same since Lady Tapalar died.”
Rawk blinked. “You knew her?”
“Everyone knew her. And everyone loved her.”
Rawk stared at the house. He swallowed. “Yes, well, all us humans loved her though I doubt many of the other races did.”
Juskin ignored the comment. “She used to buy books from me. She was collecting books about magic, like you. She must have had quite a collection by the time she died.”
“She didn’t do things by halves.”
“It’s a shame you can’t find out what happened to them.”
“Yes, a shame. Come on. If we take too long Sylvia will go home.”
A couple of minutes later, Rawk paused, hand on the hilt of his sword as Juskin continued on for a few steps. He looked around. The only unusual thing he saw was a man on the porch of a bakery looking around as well. The street, barely thirty yards from end to end, was otherwise devoid of life.
“Hello, Rawk,” the man said.
Rawk still hadn’t relaxed though. He even drew his sword as he continued to scan the surroundings. He gave a nod. “Hello. I take it you work for me.”
“I’m Graft.” He was as big as a bear— bigger than Thok— with a close-cropped beard and a crazy mess of hair. Graft collected a shield from the ground near his feet and came slowly down the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Juskin asked.
“Can’t you hear it?” Graft asked. “It’s like a tinker’s van in the rain.”
Rawk couldn’t hear anything. But... “Can’t you smell it?” He could smell a forest, rich and loamy and green, scents that were out of place in the riot of the city.
And a moment later, he sensed the portal opening and spun about. The shifting, slivery sheen hung in the air for long seconds. Then it sputtered, flashed, and the moment before it winked out of existence, a creature came through. One creature, walking as if it had all the time in the world. It was the size of a small dog but walked on all fours like it wasn’t really serious about it at all. Its white fur was glistening with rain.
“What in Path’s name is that?” Rawk asked.
“Should we kill it?”
The creature looked from Graft to Rawk and back again, then it turned and made it’s slow way to the bakery. It slipped through a hole and the timber paneling and under the building.
“Ummm... No?”
“Seriously?” Graft took a couple of steps closer. “It looks like an easy claim to me.”
“Well, yes, but... I’ll add a couple of hundred ithel to your pay.”
“All right then.” Graft smiled. “Thank you.” He sheathed his sword but kept his eye on the hole the creature had used as he made his way back up onto the porch.
Rawk watched the hole too, as he caught up to Juskin.
“You seem to be a nice employer.”
Rawk shrugged. “It’s just money.”
“As said by a man who obviously has a lot.”
“Well, you shouldn’t complain. I employ you now, after all.”
-O-
In the office beneath the Hero’s Rest, Grint and Celeste were sitting with Sylvia. The dwarf was tapping out a rhythm on the edge of the bookshelf as he perused the titles. The two women were reading quietly.
“Have you even left the room today, Sylvia?” Rawk asked
The elf looked up. She shook her head and went back to reading for a moment before sighing and putting the book down. “I do not have time, Rawk. If there is a spence— if they are real— they must be stopped.”
“Surely they are less of a threat than a sorcerer seeing they can’t do anything on their own.”
“Creating magic is exhausting, Rawk. After Wenadean’s Ford I spent the next week in bed.”
“Me too,” Rawk replied. He smiled around at the others, but they may not actually understand if they didn’t know he had been fighting in the company of Princess Rose Ware. Celeste gave him a questioning look, but he cleared his throat and looked away. “So, it isn’t like that for a spence?”
“Honestly, I do not know. But I know if I used enough power to open a portal I would be lucky to be alive.”
Juskin cleared his throat. “Hello, you must be Sylvia,” he said. “I am Juskin.”
Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. “You own the book shop?”
Rawk smiled. “I do now.”
“You bought a book shop?”
“Well, I bought the stock. Juskin works for me.”
“Doing what?”
“Security. Grave robbing. You know, the usual stuff.”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow.
Celeste smiled. “If he followed you around, he could steal from your victims before they were buried.”
“I never thought of that. And while I’m not out killing people, perhaps Juskin could be your assistant, Sylvia.”
“I’m not sure...”
“How many languages do you read, Juskin?”
“Four.”
“And how many do you speak?”
“Just the three.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, though you probably do...” Juskin asked in elvish. He pushed his spectacles higher on his nose. “Are you Silver Lark?”
Rawk held his tongue.
“No.” Sylvia shook her head. “I do not need an assistant, Rawk.” Rawk could see the lie, both of them, in her eyes, but it was unlikely Juskin would. He probably didn’t believe her anyway.
“I think we have to trust Juskin, Sylvia,” Rawk said. “He has been responsible for finding a lot of the books you have been searching through. He is smart— smarter than me, even. He can help.”
Sylvia sighed. “Then he should stop wasting time and find a book.”
“What am I looking for?”
“You know of spences?”
“I have heard the legends.”
“Well, find the proof.”
Juskin smiled and went to stand beside Grint at the bookshelf. He pulled out a slim volume. “Fardon Kakain mainly concerned himself with the elder magics of the north, but he dabbled in more esoteric areas occasionally.” He clasped the book in his hand and continued to search. “Ah. Brenda Glyn’s Breathing Magic. That probably won’t help.”
“Why not.”
“It is a romance. Did that come from me or somewhere else?”
“No idea.”
“And Time Dizial by Finigal March? It has been many years since...” He quickly scanned the other titles, muttering to himself, before turning to face Rawk. “You have Lady Tapalar’s collection? All of it?”
Rawk nodded. Shrugged. “I’m not sure if Travis has collected all of it yet.”
“I thought it was lost. I could sell those books and live in comfort for the rest of my life. I didn’t supply them all but she showed me once.” He swallowed and repeated himself. “I could sell them and live comfortably for the rest of my life.”
Rawk took a breath, keeping himself under control. “Well, if I ever want them sold, I know who to talk to.”
Some time later, Rawk looked up from his book and smiled. Sitting in a room full of people silently reading. Who would have thought that could feel so good?
“What’s that grin for?” Grint asked, looking up from his book on the history of Falian magic.
And Rawk remembered why they were all reading and sighed. “Nothing.” He looked around at the others.
Sylvia was still reading but Celeste had stopped to see what was happening. She pushed her dark hair away from her face.
“Who wants to get something to eat?” Rawk asked.
Grint put down his book and stretched. “I can’t. I’ve got to go and help some people with a fireplace.”
“At this time of night?” Celeste said. “I hope you are being well paid.”
Grint laughed. “Not a chance. It’s Hater and Fis. I’ll be luck
y if I get a sandwich.”
Rawk looked at Sylvia. “How about you Sylvia?”
“Pardon? What?”
“Do you want to get something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I think I will stay here a while longer.”
Juskin nodded. “I shall stay too. This is fascinating.” He tapped the cover of his book.
“Very well. Celeste? Just you and me then?”
She looked around. “I guess so.”
“Come on then. I know a place.”
“Well...” Celeste looked around the library. “Should we keep reading?”
“If I read any more I’m going to fall asleep,” Rawk said. He looked at his latest book. “Dane Hage may be the most powerful sorcerer that has ever lived, for all I know, but he writes the most boring books in the world.”
Celeste looked at her own book. “It cannot be any worse than this.” She threw it down on the table, earning an annoyed glare from Sylvia, and rose to her feet. “Show the way.”
Making his way across The Vault a minute later, dodging the first of the night’s patrons, listening to their mutters about Fermi going back where they belonged, Rawk decided he needed start using the other stairs more often. He seemed to notice the comments more than Celeste, or perhaps she was just well practiced at hiding her reactions to the bullying.
Across the far side of Placton Square, just two minutes walk away, was a small establishment that sold pies and pasties. It was hardly more than a hole in a wall but the queue was long and rowdy.
“This is it?” Celeste asked. She looked disappointed.
“Yes. Why?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
“I admit that it doesn’t look impressive, but the food is wonderful and the view from the dining room is about the best there is.”
She looked around, examining the view, but didn’t say anything.
They finally made their way to the front of the queue and Rawk got a pastie with flaky pastry and bulging with meat and vegetables. He was going to choose for Celeste as well, but thought better of it. “What would you like?”
“I don’t even know what they are.”
So he got another pastie and two bottles of apple cider.
“So, where do we sit?”
“Come on.”
He took her back to the Hero’s Rest and led the way up the stairs.
An Army of Heroes Page 10
