Company of Strangers, #1

by Melissa McShane

  23

  A head appeared in the hole in the floor. The greasy-haired man, Batagli, came fully into view. He was indeed blindfolded, but seemed to have no trouble finding his footing on the iron stairs. Behind him, Alaric emerged, one hand on Batagli’s lower back as if guiding him. His enormous sword was slung across his back, making Sienne wonder if the servant woman had even bothered asking him to disarm. It didn’t matter, because Alaric could probably beat all four of the conspirators senseless with his fists alone. The sword was just intimidating. Sienne hoped it worked.

  Nobody spoke. Alaric gave Batagli a little shove. The man stepped away from him and removed the blindfold as casually as if it had been an intentional part of his attire. Alaric surveyed the room, his gaze lingering briefly on each of the conspirators before coming to rest on Sienne. His pale blue eyes showed no hint of interest in her, and it chilled her despite the stuffiness of the room. All part of the plan, she told herself. She wished she knew what the plan was.

  “Your companion is alive and unharmed, as promised,” Liurdi said.

  Alaric shrugged. “She’s no companion of mine, but I told Dianthe I would see her returned,” he said, his deep voice sounding a dark counterpoint to Liurdi’s tenor. “You have the book?”

  “You have the key?”

  “Book first. Let’s see what I’m trading for.”

  Liurdi handed over the folio. In Alaric’s giant hands, it almost looked normal-sized. “It’s locked,” Alaric said.

  “Just an ordinary lock. I’m sure you have associates who can deal with it. You recognize it?”

  “By its description, yes.” Alaric sniffed along its spine. “All right. Here’s the key.” He dug in his belt pouch and removed the pendant, holding it up to the light. All four conspirators sucked in a simultaneous breath. It would have been funny if Sienne hadn’t been so conscious of the mortal danger she and Alaric were in. What was he doing? How could he actually give them the key?

  She untied the ribbon around her left wrist and gingerly gave her arm a little shake. The prick of the dagger grew more painful briefly, a warning from Raene. One of the stiff pages slid out of her sleeve into her hand. Sienne risked a glance at Raene, whose attention was on the key. It would have to do.

  “So take your prize, and the girl, and go,” Raene said.

  “That wasn’t the bargain,” Alaric said.

  “You don’t really care about what’s in this trunk,” Liurdi said.

  “I’m curious. Indulge me. I brought you the key, after all.”

  Sienne caught the edge of the glance Liurdi threw the wizard, and it chilled her further. The wizard stepped away from the group as if making room for Alaric near the trunk. Alaric approached, still holding the key, and the spellbook flew from where it lay by the chair to land, open, in the wizard’s hands.

  Sienne threw herself away from the dagger’s point, swiveling in her seat to bring both feet up to kick Raene hard in the chest. “Alaric!” she screamed.

  Alaric was moving before the last syllable left her lips. He turned on the wizard, who’d begun speaking the sharp, hard-edged sounds of an evocation, and backhanded him across the face. The wizard stumbled, tripped over a chair, and went down hard. Sienne rolled off the sofa and lunged for his book. He saw her coming and pulled it close to his chest. Sienne dove atop him and slashed his face with the sharp edge of the spell page. The wizard screamed and dropped the book, clutching his face. Blood seeped between his fingers. Sienne grabbed the book and ran.

  Something thin and invisible wrapped around her head, covering her nose and mouth and cutting off her air. She choked and scrabbled at it with her free hand, trying to peel it away. Not the wizard—Callia, with some blessing Sienne had never heard of. Desperate, she twisted the page she held so its edge faced her and drew it in a quick slash across her open mouth. Pain stung the corners of her lips, and she tasted blood, but the membrane parted, and she gulped in warm, stuffy air. She grabbed the severed edge and pulled the caul off over her head, flinging it down and resisting the urge to stomp on it.

  Alaric hadn’t drawn his sword. He’d knocked Liurdi down and had Raene in a headlock. With his free hand, he grabbed her dagger-wielding hand and forced it open so the knife fell with a clatter to the floor. His eyes met Sienne’s briefly, and he shouted, “Look out!” just as a pearly gray dome popped into being around him.

  Hands came down on her arms and spun her around. “I’ll take that,” the wizard snarled, reaching for the spellbook. Sienne tried to back away, but he’d already taken hold of it and was pulling hard. She wrapped her arms more tightly around it, certain if he wrested it from her, she and Alaric were both dead. The wizard wasn’t strong, but neither was Sienne, and for a few moments they wrestled in silence, both snarling at each other like a couple of wolves fighting over the last piece of deer meat. This is stupid, Sienne thought. She needed a different approach.

  She let go, making him stumble back a step. He regained his balance and smiled at her, changing his grip on the book. It flew open. “You deserve this,” the wizard said.

  Sienne darted forward and grabbed, not for the book’s cover, but for the latch underneath the spine. Swiftly she released the latch and with her invisible fingers snatched hold of the pages, tugged, and flung them into the air. They scattered like leaves in dead air, fluttering in all directions. The wizard shrieked and tried to gather them up, bloodying his fingers. Sienne turned and ran at Callia, who stood with her mouth open in shocked amazement. Sienne shoved her and knocked her down, then snatched the riffle of blessings out of her hand and tore the papers in half.

  A silent explosion knocked her halfway across the room. Sienne screamed as her fingers caught fire and stuck her hands under her arms to put it out. Shaking, she sat up and examined her hands, but they were unmarked, and the pain was disappearing. The three remaining spell pages had caught on the hem of her sleeve, tearing it, but hadn’t fallen out.

  Someone ran across the room to kneel at her side. “You’re all right?” Alaric said. Sienne nodded. “It’s almost over. We just have to wait a little longer.”

  “Wait for what? Alaric, they’re going to kill us!”

  Alaric grinned. “I know. Perfect, isn’t it?”

  She started to tell him he was insane, but was interrupted by Liurdi saying, “You think you’ve defeated us? You come into my home, attack me and my associates, destroy our property—I’ll have the guards on you for daring to—”

  “Funny you should mention the guards,” Alaric said, helping Sienne rise. “I think I hear them now.”

  There were a lot of people coming up the stairs, Sienne realized. Callia was just getting to her feet, and Raene knelt by the trunk, breathing heavily. The wizard, sobbing tears of what Sienne judged to be rage rather than sorrow, scrabbled the pages of his dismembered spellbook together, smearing blood everywhere. Liurdi leaned on the trunk, a lump forming on his left temple. “Good,” he snarled. “Saves time all around.”

  Men and women in leather jerkins and the odd round helmets of the Fioretti city guard came pouring up through the hole in the floor. Two of them came to flank Alaric and Sienne, others took places near the conspirators, and one took Batagli—who had, oddly, sat the fight out—by one arm. “What,” Sienne began, and Alaric shushed her.

  A man wearing a lieutenant’s knot on his shoulder came through the hole. Sienne recognized him as the man Dianthe had spoken to outside Neoma’s shop. Denys Renaldi. “Would somebody like to explain this?” he said. His voice was deep and pleasant, and he sounded genuinely interested in an explanation. He wasn’t at all how Sienne pictured a guard lieutenant.

  “Of course, Lieutenant,” Liurdi said, stepping away from the guardswoman flanking him. “These two invaded my home and attacked us. I demand you take them into custody.”

  “You’re Lord Gregor Liurdi?” The lieutenant sounded polite, but not overly respectful.

  “He is,” Batagli said, startling Sienne.

  “Alar
ic?” Renaldi said, turning his way.

  “Liurdi kidnapped Sienne, hired the Giordas to steal from Neoma Tachonus, indirectly causing her death, and attempted to kill both me and Sienne.” Alaric might as well have been reading off a shopping list for all the emotion he displayed. “You have his other crimes from Master Batagli there. All four of them were in on it.”

  “What? That’s—lies, all of it, lies!” Liurdi sputtered.

  “I don’t think so,” Renaldi said. “You’ve been at the periphery of a number of mysterious deaths in the last five years, Lord Liurdi. It’s difficult, in this city, to arrest a nobleman, but you’ve just given me everything I need to do so. Sarran, Wylter, take him into custody. All of them.”

  “I am a personal friend of the king!” Liurdi shrieked. “Your career will be over when I speak with him!”

  “I’ll take responsibility for that.” Renaldi smiled. It was a pleasant, unthreatening smile, but there was steel behind it. “And I seriously doubt he wants anything to do with this mess.”

  “No!” the wizard shouted. He pointed a bloody finger at Sienne. “She stole my spells! I demand you arrest that thief!”

  Renaldi looked at Sienne. She resisted the urge to draw closer to Alaric’s comforting bulk. Renaldi turned his attention on the scattered spell pages. “I can’t see how you can tell anything’s missing in this mess,” he said. “You should be more worried about what she’ll say when she brings witness against you for kidnapping. Careful with them, fellows, they’re nobility.”

  Sienne tied her sleeve closed again, feeling the stolen pages burn against her skin with imagined heat, and watched the guards shepherd Liurdi and his associates down the stairs. Batagli was the last to go. He gave Sienne a nod, Sienne thought of apology, but it was hard to tell. Eventually she and Alaric were alone with Renaldi, who removed his helmet and spun it in his fingers.

  “Well?” he said. “I’m curious.”

  Alaric pulled out the pendant and walked over to the trunk. Sienne and Renaldi followed him. The front of the trunk bore a many-sided irregular hole just the diameter of the pendant. Alaric inserted it and gave it a push with his finger so it went all the way in. Sienne braced herself for bright lights, or an alarm, or the ground shaking. But there was only a small click. Alaric took hold of the lid and tugged upward.

  The trunk had no lining, just the same slightly greasy-looking wood it was on the outside. Inside lay a jumble of assorted objects, none of which were magical. Several daggers in plain leather sheaths were scattered across the top of the pile, along with cloak pins, jeweled combs, and a couple of slim copper arm rings. There were metal goblets, some plain, some of gold or silver studded with gems, all of them inscribed with letters too small for Sienne to make out words. Two silver platters engraved with abstract designs lay at the bottom. Alaric went very still. “Artifacts,” he said. “Are they magical?”

  “No.” Sienne’s heart fell. “They’re just…I don’t know. I suppose someone might want them, but they’re not anything special. Certainly not worth the trouble Liurdi and his friends went to.”

  “Unfortunately, they’re now the property of the city,” Renaldi said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hand it over to you. It belongs to Lord Liurdi, and with him going to prison or possibly the hangman’s noose, I have to confiscate it.”

  “Understood,” Alaric said. “But—just one, maybe? In recognition of services rendered?”

  Renaldi matched him gaze for gaze. Then he deliberately turned his back on the trunk. Alaric swiftly snatched up one of the goblets and tucked it away in his shirt. “We’re free to go?” he said.

  “You’ll need to testify, but that won’t be for a while yet. Lord Liurdi and his friends aren’t getting away with anything. I’m doing everything by the law on this one.”

  “Don’t you always?”

  Alaric and Renaldi exchanged the kind of sneers only old acquaintances and sometime enemies can manage. “Stay out of trouble,” Renaldi said. “Dianthe would hate it if I had to arrest you.”

  “I still don’t know what she sees in you,” Alaric said. “Good luck.”

  Sienne let Alaric steer her down the stairs and through the manor to the front door, where she hesitated before the sharp-edged stones of the path. “I’m barefoot.”

  “You are indeed,” Alaric said, and swept her up into his arms. “Fortunately, you also don’t weigh much more than a half-drowned cat.”

  “So—did you have that all planned? Why didn’t Batagli help them? What—”

  “Too many questions. Let me start from the beginning.” Alaric strode through the open gate. There was no sign of Liurdi’s guard. “When we caught Batagli trying to lift the pendant from my room, we were busy enough that we didn’t immediately realize you’d been taken. Once we figured that out, we convinced Batagli that his master would be arrested for kidnapping and he might want to think about whether he wanted to take that fall as well. Batagli isn’t a nice person, so I don’t imagine we appealed to his soft side. More likely the opportunist in him saw a chance to get away with most of the crimes he’s committed on Liurdi’s behalf. To give him credit, I don’t think he’s ever killed anyone, so I didn’t mind letting him turn king’s evidence, since it meant getting the real criminals.”

  “But he was connected to Callia, that priest. I know she saw through his—oh, the blindfold.”

  “Oh, the blindfold, exactly. The communication blessing she used gave her a mental link to his thoughts and his vision, but not his hearing. We took him to the guards and Dianthe convinced Renaldi to listen to our rather garbled account. Perrin was invaluable there. He knows how to string words together in a way even guard lieutenants can’t help but respond to. Once we explained the situation, and what Batagli knew, Renaldi agreed to bring his men to make the arrest. As he said, he’s been watching Liurdi for years, but never had enough evidence to bring him to justice. Knowing that the Giordas, whom a priest of Kitane had positively identified as the arsonists who burned Neoma’s shop, were hired by him made him even more eager to help.”

  “So why weren’t they with you when you arrived?”

  “It took them some time to collect themselves, and I had to move quickly so Liurdi wouldn’t be suspicious at how long it took me to reach his manor.”

  Sienne gasped. “The book! You left it behind!”

  Alaric chuckled. “I found the Dardel Contract three years ago. It’s worthless except as a conversation piece. I didn’t sell it to Liurdi, so I imagine he bought it from someone who cheated him shamefully. It warms my heart to think of it.”

  “I’m just sorry we didn’t get to keep all that salvage. Which one did you take?”

  Alaric pulled the goblet out. Sienne’s brow furrowed. It was one of the plain ones, made of hammered brass and engraved with Ginatic script around the rim and the outer edge of the base. The letters were too small for her to read in the dim light from the lanterns. “It’s…not very valuable. Is it?”

  “Wait and see,” Alaric said. “Hmm, what else…I’m glad I was right that you wouldn’t be helpless when I reached the manor. I was counting on having your support during the fight. We had to hold them off long enough for Renaldi’s men and women to reach us. I assumed Liurdi would try to kill us, and figured his guilt would be even more convincing if he’d clearly already tried to do so. He—ow! What is that?” He shifted his arm away from hers.

  “It’s the wizard’s spellbook, three pages of it, anyway.”

  Alaric threw back his head and laughed. His laughter echoed off the brick walls of the dark buildings, startling a stray cat into hissing at them before fleeing into the night. “I have to say, you’re the most deceptive person I’ve ever met, and I’ve been Dianthe’s friend for eight years. You look as innocent as a newborn lamb, but there’s steel behind that wide-eyed smile.”

  Sienne blushed. His regard made her feel uncomfortably exposed, as if he’d seen past her façade all the way to her soul. “Is that a compliment?”
/>   “Of course it is. You won’t sleep until you’ve ferreted out what spells those are, either.”

  “So not all wizards are awful, is that what you’re saying?”

  Alaric swung her down to deposit her on Master Tersus’s doorstep. “You’re still a special case.”

  The kitchen was well-lit despite the late hour, and the smell of soup lingered in the air. Sienne stopped in the doorway as Dianthe swooped down on her for a warm hug. “Your face is bloody,” she exclaimed. “You both look like you’ve been in a fight. Didn’t it work? I knew we should have come along!”

  “We’re fine, just a few bruises,” Alaric said. “Sienne, how did your face get cut?”

  “I did it to myself.” Sienne took a seat at the table. “It’s not much.”

  “Nevertheless, as I have these healing blessings,” Perrin said, “I should perhaps show gratitude to Averran by using them.”

  The healing felt warm and tingling and just the way it smelled, sweet and minty. Sienne worked her mouth gingerly and found it no longer stung at the corners. She pulled the spell pages out of her sleeve and spread them on the table. “Whose are they?” Kalanath asked, leaning over her shoulder.

  “That wizard’s. Well, they’re mine now.” Sienne traced the spells, one sharp and hard-edged, one made of staccato lines and abrupt dashes, and one flowing and full of vowels. “This is force. This one, I think, is the one he used to kidnap me—castle. And this…it’s a transform called sculpt. It lets you shape stone.”

  “That does not sound useful to a scrapper,” Kalanath said.

  “Maybe. But I’m starting to think usefulness is what you make of it. I’ll copy them out tomorrow. Tonight I’m exhausted.”