Текст книги "All the Paths of Shadow"

Автор книги: Frank Tuttle

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Meralda made her way back to the weather-beaten door on Hopping Way, put her key in the lock, and stepped through the door and into the dark narrow space between shelves in the back of the laboratory.

Traffic noise followed her until she closed the door.

“Mistress!” cried Mug. “Quick! Donchen is up to something.”

Meralda darted out the aisle, dodging treasures as she ran.

Mug followed her progress with a single eye while he kept the other twenty-eight trained on the mirror. Inside the glass, Donchen sat on a bench at a trolley stop and read the Times.

Meralda leaned on her desk and tried to catch her breath.

“He’s reading the paper,” she said.

“Wait.”

Donchen turned the page.

A bright yellow butterfly fluttered from the paper and flew quickly up and away, beyond the view of the mirror.

“That happens every time he turns the page.” Mug waved his fronds. “Tower claims the butterflies are hidden by the same spell that made him invisible.”

“The insects are massing around the building occupied by the spell caster,” said the Tower. Its voice was muted and distant.

“Can you tell what they’re meant to do?”

The Tower did not reply.

“Guess that’s a no, mistress,” said Mug. “That cab almost ran you down, by the way.”

“So I’m told.” Meralda pulled back her chair and sank wearily into it. “So our ghost is also a magician, if not a mage himself.”

“Cook, mage, spy, ghost-when does the man sleep?”

Meralda picked up her pencil and idly began to doodle tiny Towers on a page of shadow latch calculations.

“The Vonats are up to something, Mug.”

“Do tell.” The dandyleaf plant turned a half dozen eyes toward Meralda. “Wait, did you see something, out there?”

Meralda shook her head no. I didn’t see a thing,she thought. But an awful suspicion was blooming, and with it anger. “They’re trying to latch something to the Tower.” She added the tethers and the curseworks to her drawing. “Why do you think they’d pick the Tower, of all things? Why not the palace? Why not the Gold Room itself?”

Mug shrugged.

“Because they know about my shadow moving spell,” said Meralda. “ Myspell. We know someone hid spells in the palace. Which means someone has been listening. In fact-Sir Ricard. I’d bet a purse of Vonat gold doubloons he’s been waiting for weeks to give Yvin that ridiculous idea about moving the Tower’s shadow.”

Mug went still.

“Mistress.”

“Yes. I think so. I think the spell they’re latching to the Tower is intended to do something awful at the opening ceremony of the Accords. I think the Vonat are working with that small group of Hang Donchen mentioned. I think they want to wreck any chance of the Hang joining the Realms peacefully, and I think they plan to blame the whole thing on me.”

“Make it appear as if your shadow moving spell goes wrong?”

Meralda nodded, her jaw clamped too tight to speak. They mean to kill a great many people as Yvin gives his speech,she thought. The Hang delegation among them.Ruin the Accords, infuriate the Hang, leave the Realms divided and weak. And all of it blamed squarely on her. On the female Tirlish mage, who had no business ever donning the robes in the first place.

Mug rolled a dozen eyes. “They don’t know about the curseworks, though.”

“No. Otherwise they’d simply have attacked them directly, and in secret.”

Mug shivered. He looked toward the mirror, watched as Donchen released another yellow butterfly, and muttered an Angis word.

“Mistress, what are we going to do?”

Meralda’s pencil lead broke. She rose.

“Nameless. Faceless. Right here, right now.”

Mug went wide-eyed.

From the rear of the laboratory, amid the shadows and glittering and whirring and hissing, came the sound of fluttering wings. A pair of dark shapes darted down from the ceiling, and came to rest on either side of Meralda before assuming the forms of two rough hewn lengths of ironwood.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, your master, or his equal.” Meralda swallowed, searching for her next words. They’re as likely to strike me down as they are to agree,she thought. But if I’m going up against the entire Vonat nation and who knows how much of the Hang, I need them.

“Tower believes your master would not want this place laid waste by his hand,” she said. “You either agree, or you do not. If you do, I ask for your help now. Not for me. Not even for Tirlin. But in deference to your master, who is fallen, but whose wishes nevertheless remain unfulfilled.” She raised her hands, not quite touching the staves, but only a hand’s breadth from them.

“What say you, Nameless, Faceless?”

“Mistress, I wouldn’t…”

Meralda took each staff in her hand.

The laboratory fell silent, save for the gentle clicking of Phillitrep’s Engine.

The staves were cool and unmoving in Meralda’s grasp.

“Well, I’ll be mowed and pruned,” said Mug, after a while. “Congratulations, mistress. Tim the Horsehead just turned green with envy.”

Meralda took a deep breath, and hoped the staves couldn’t feel her shiver.

“Find the Vonat mage Humindorus Nam,” she said. “I want one of you watching him at all times. See that you aren’t observed yourselves. Can you project images into the mirror?”

The mirror flashed, showing a brief reflection of Meralda holding the staves.

“Good. I want to know where he is and what he’s doing, starting right now. Show him when I ask. Show him even when I don’t if he does anything interesting. Go.”

The staves became blurs. With the sound of flapping wings, they vanished into the Mirror.

Meralda let out her breath in a long exhalation.

“That was brave,” said the Tower. “Very brave indeed.”

Meralda mopped sweat from her forehead and grinned. “Is the spell latched?”

“It is. I am now attempting to determine its nature. Part of the structure is Vonat in nature. Part is unknown to me.”

“Hang.”

“Most likely. I overheard your conversation with the construct. You believe this spell is offensive in nature.”

“The construct’s name is Mug,” said the dandyleaf plant.

“I do,” said Meralda. “Designed to release in tandem with my shadow spell.”

“Ingenious.”

“Is it doing further damage to the curseworks?”

“No. I was able to adjust the latching point. That, at least, is not a concern.”

“Hurrah for small miracles,” said Meralda. She sighed, glared at her empty coffee cup, and looked wearily toward the door.

“Mug, please watch the glass. Tower, I need a way to speak to you beyond this room. I assume there are other artifacts you have trifled with, over the years?”

“Fourteen, to be exact. All designed for observation, but two will suffice for communication. Tulip’s Talking Jewel, and Montrop’s Singing Flame.”

“You’re a nosy old barn, aren’t you?” said Mug.

“The jewel, then. It should fit in my pocket. Aisle four, isn’t it? Shelf, um, sixteen?”

“Just so.”

Meralda marched off to fetch the jewel, and Mug turned his worried eyes back toward the glass.

“The sticks just sent word about Nam,” said Mug, his voice squeaky and barely audible from the Jewel. “He’s using some kind of fancy concealment spell. Tower thinks it might be Hang. The sticks think they can break it, but he’ll probably notice if they do.”

Meralda frowned and lifted the jewel close to her lips, covering it with her hand and pretending to stifle a sneeze.

“Tell them to wait,” she said. “Tell them to stay close to the Vonat rooms. See if they can get a count of the people inside. But only if they can do so without being seen.”

Meralda could hear Mug relaying the instructions to the Tower.

Her open topped cab pitched and bounced. Her cabman glanced back over his shoulder and smiled at her before quickly turning his attention back toward the busy street.

“Done,” said Mug. “Donchen is gone, by the way. Heading back to the palace, on foot. If he shows up here, what do I tell the Bellringers to tell him?”

“Ask him to meet me for a late supper,” said Meralda. “In the lab.”

“Ooooo,” replied Mug. “Shall I order flowers and violins?”

Meralda rolled her eyes and shoved the jewel deep into her pocket.

My feet ache,she thought. She’d used Finch’s Door again to sneak out of the laboratory, hailing the first cab she saw after stepping onto Hopping Way. If the Vonats could sense the door opening, she knew she was undone. But old Finch’s handiwork was nothing if not subtle. Even the Tower had marveled at its silence, in strictly magical terms.

And if the Vonats are watching me, it’s best they see the Bellringers by my doors and think I’m still inside. Especially given where I’m heading, and what I’m about to do,she thought.

What I’m about to do. Is this the right thing? Am I saving Tirlin, or dooming it?

I wonder if Tim the Horsehead ever wondered that very thing.

Probably,Meralda decided. After all, Tim’s exploits were rather more desperate than mine.He was lucky, more often than not.

I wonder if someday, some mage will say the same about me.

“We’re here, ma’am,” said the cabman, urging his ponies to a halt.

Meralda stepped out of the cab, placed a handful of coins into the man’s palm, and hurried up the steps and into the shade of Fromarch’s red brick house.

Fromarch himself met her at his door. “Took you long enough.” He shoved a bottle of Nolbit’s in her hand. “We’re all here, Mage. I reckon you’ve got things to tell us.”

Meralda took a long draught of the beer. “That I do, she said. “And you’d best lock the door.”

“So the Tower is haunted after all,” said Shingvere.

In the middle of the room, a single candle burned. Fromarch’s tiny sitting room was midnight dark, and with all the windows shuttered and bolted the air was hot and stale. Meralda could barely make out the three wizards who faced her, and could read nothing in their faces.

Beside the candle sat a crude contrivance of wood and glass, which hummed and buzzed and sometimes spat tiny showers of bright blue sparks. Fromarch insisted it would render any attempt at arcane eavesdropping futile, and Meralda fervently hoped the elderly wizard was correct.

“She never said it was haunted, you daft old Eryan,” muttered Fromarch. “She said it was alive. Bit of a difference.”

“Gentlemen!” Meralda took a breath. “Please. Tirlin is in danger. It’s up to us to save it.”

“I was right about the Tower all along, but I see your point, Mage Ovis.” Shingvere leaned forward, his face grim and unsmiling in the wash of flickering candle light. “So how do you intend to fight?”

Loman, the Hang wizard, raised his finger and smiled.

“Before you answer, young mage, it would perhaps be wise to dismiss me. I will take no offense. You do not know me. You are under no obligation to trust me.”

“Shingvere. Fromarch. Do you trust this gentleman?”

“Aye.”

“Without reservation.”

“Then so do I. Please, sir, remain. This concerns you as well, since your people are being targeted.”

Loman bowed his head briefly. “As you wish. Know that I am honored.”

Meralda smiled, and the old man grinned back.

“I plan to allow the Vonats to believe they have latched a killing spell to the Tower,” she said. “I plan to keep them believing that, right up until the hour Yvin takes the stage. Tower is studying the spell now. With any luck, I can render it harmless without alerting anyone that I’ve done so.”

Fromarch nodded. “And the curseworks?”

“They will have to be stabilized or removed.”

“Bit of a tall order, that.”

“That’s why she’s Mage of Tirlin,” said Shingvere. “Still, that’s a lot for any one person to do, Meralda. Especially with who knows how many Vonats running around doing who knows what kind of mischief in the meantime.”

“That’s where you gentlemen can help. I need the Vonats, and any Hang helping them, kept busy for the next seven days. The Vonats want trouble at the Accords? Well, gentlemen, I say we give them trouble. Just not the kind they planned.”

“What kind then?”

Meralda grinned. “Magical trouble. I don’t care what kind. Just keep their mages busy chasing will-o-the-wisps. Make them think their Hang partners are spying on them. Make them think I am. Make them waste time. Make them waste effort.” Meralda stood and smoothed her skirts. “The contents of the laboratory are at your disposal. I won’t watch and I won’t ask. Just don’t burn down any historic landmarks. Can I trust you gentlemen? To make trouble?”

Fromarch slapped his knee and guffawed. “Oh, that you can, Mage. That you can, indeed.”

“Anything for old Tirlin,” said Shingvere, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Especially that.”

Loman just smiled and sipped at his beer.

Meralda risked Hopping Way again and stepped through Finch’s Door to return to the laboratory.

Mug greeted her with a mock salute. “All quiet,” he reported. “Tower, any word from the sticks about Nam?”

“None.”

“Are there any signs I was observed using the door?”

“Again, none. I believe the door’s operation is unknown to anyone save us.”

“I hope so.” Meralda made for the doors and opened them just enough to speak through them. “I’d like some coffee and something to eat,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” chorused the Bellringers. Kervis frowned and tilted his head. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Guardsman,” she said. “Just a bit hungry.”

“Tervis spoke from beyond the door. “I smelled fried chicken earlier. Will that do?”

“Indeed it will. Thank you.” Meralda closed the door.

“Mistress,” called Mug. “Have a look.”

Goboy’s glass showed a door. A pair of black crows regarded the door with curious stares for a moment before taking flight. The glass did not follow.

“Nameless and Faceless.” Meralda sat. The door opened, and a man stepped out into the sun.

“So this must be Humindorus Nam.”

Meralda saw a tall man, dressed all in black, from the soles of his knee-high leather boots to the cowl of the robe that hid his eyes. He took a single step out into the sun, and then he produced a pair of dark lensed spectacles from a pocket and slipped them over his long beak of a nose.

That was the only time Meralda saw his face, though she never saw his eyes. She did see long shocks of greasy black hair, uncombed and wild, falling over a face dark with stubble. His mouth was a thin pale line set in a scowl.

And then the cowl fell over his face, leaving only a shadowed narrow chin.

“A bit melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?” said Mug. “All he needs is a necklace made of skulls to complete the whole penny-novel villain look.”

“The staves advise they will follow,” said the Tower. “I discern no fewer than two dozen active spells latched to this man’s person.”

“Then he’s suicidal,” said Mug. “Latching spells to oneself is insane, isn’t it, mistress?”

Meralda nodded assent.

So this is Humindorus Nam,she thought. The most feared wizard in all of Vonath. The man who rose to his rank over the bodies of his rivals.

The man who is determined to crush Tirlin and use me as his vise.

“Ask the staves to fan out,” said Meralda. “I want to know if he’s traveling with bodyguards.”

Mug swiveled a dozen eyes toward Meralda. “The captain claimed he didn’t have any, that using bodyguards would be considered a sign of weakness in Vonath.”

“We’re not in Vonath.” Meralda watched Humindorus walk, watched as other pedestrians stepped out of his way and averted their gazes.

His strides were long and fast. His arms hung straight at his sides, his hands clenched into fists inside their black leather gloves.

“I don’t see any butterflies,” said Meralda, after a time. “Tower? Are they out of view?”

The image in the glass changed, as though the glass were snatched suddenly up into the air high above the street. No bright yellow butterflies fluttered below.

“No. Whatever their purpose, it appears they are not reacting to the wizard’s departure.”

The scene returned to street level, centered on the black-clad wizard’s march through Tirlin.

“Thank you.” Meralda pulled back her hair and yawned. “Mug, keep an eye on Ugly. Tower, ask the staves to keep their distance.”

“Aye, Captain!”

“As you wish, Mage.”

Meralda forced herself to look away from the image of Humindorus Nam’s determined march through Tirlin. No time for that now,she thought. As nasty as he looks, we have bigger problems.

“Tower,” she said, pulling a fresh piece of drawing paper from the stack at the corner of her desk. “I’ve had a thought. About the curseworks.” She tested her pencil on the paper, and decided it was sharp enough to suffice. “Tell me about the composition of the outermost bindings.”

The Tower began to speak. Meralda’s pencil made tell-tale scratching noises on the paper.

Mug never took his eyes off the tall Vonat striding toward the palace in the glass.

“Mistress, pardon, but our Vonat friend is headed for the palace,” said Mug.

“I expected as much. Never mind. Show me the Vonat boarding house, please.”

The image shifted, becoming a crow’s eye view of the buildings along Ventham Street.

“Are we looking for anything in particular, mistress?”

Meralda stabbed at the glass with her pencil. “That,” she said. “Look.”

A hundred yellow butterflies suddenly took silent flight.

“Our ghost friend has been busy,” said Mug. “Look, they’re splitting up.”

The butterflies diverged, high in the air, flapping away in all directions. The image in the glass moved again, showing a view from on high.

All around the Vonat boarding house, doors opened, and furtive men came darting out. Each was accompanied by a tiny flock of yellow butterflies, flying so high Meralda knew they would be completely invisible from the street.

Once the last of the two dozen men had vanished from the glass, a stooped old man sweeping the sidewalk in front of a cigar shop straightened, put his broom against the wall, and sauntered away, stooped no more.

“He’s good at this ghost business, I’ll give him that,” said Mug. “His butterflies follow the conspirators, and Donchen follows the butterflies.”

“So it would seem.”

Mug tapped the glass with a leaf. “And then what?”

What, indeed?Meralda rubbed her eyes and glared at the paper she’d covered with notes and diagrams. What happens to the Vonats and their Hang conspirators will make little difference, if all of Tirlin is consumed by fire and pestilence a few days from now.

Kervis knocked at the laboratory doors, and then shouted through them. “Pardon me, ma’am, but you might want to see this message,” he said. “It’s from the captain. Marked ‘read me right now’.”

Meralda stood and stretched. Her back hurt and her eyes watered and she wanted nothing more than a good hot soak in a bathtub and a good night’s sleep on her soft, warm bed.

“Let me guess,” she muttered, as she made for the laboratory doors. “I’m about to have visitors.”

She threw the doors open. The Bellringers gazed inside, a nervous palace runner peeking into the laboratory from behind the brothers.

“Here it is, ma’am,” said Kervis. Meralda took the envelope, tore it open, and read.

“Bad news, ma’am?”

“The captain will be here in a quarter of an hour,” she said. “With half a dozen Vonat dignitaries.”

“Including the wizard?” asked Kervis.

Meralda nodded, then put her hand gently on Kervis’ hand when he reached for his sword.

“None of that. It’s just a visit. They’ll be excruciatingly polite, and so will I. And so will you two. Understood?”

The Bellringers nodded assent in reluctant unison.

“Knock when they arrive. Tervis, please keep your brother from skewering anyone. Tensions are high enough as it is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Meralda smiled at the brothers and closed the door.

She turned, took a deep breath, and marched back toward her desk.

“You’re not going to let that creature in here, are you?”

“It’s a tradition, Mug. But that doesn’t mean I can’t tidy up a bit first.” She reached her desk and began filling its drawers with her notes and drawings, stuffing them hastily inside and shoving at them until they fit. “I need a plain reflection in the glass, please. Nothing more while our visitors are here.”

The glass flashed, became nothing but a mirror, tarnished with age and neglect.

“The staves have opted to remain with you,” said the Tower, as two dark shapes emerged from the glass and flitted toward the shadowed ranks of shelves. “I have warned them against any displays unless your life is in imminent peril.”

Meralda frowned, but nodded. I can hardly take them in hand and throw them out.

Mug bunched his eyes together. Meralda caressed his topmost leaves and leaned down to meet his worried gaze. “He won’t try anything here, Mug. You know that. So please, be civil, or be silent.”

“Silent it is,” he muttered. “Tower, can you still see through the glass, even now?”

“I can. They are approaching the door.”

Meralda waggled her forefinger before Mug’s eyes. “Hold the tongue you don’t have, Mugglewort Ovis. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

A knock sounded at the door. Meralda took a deep breath and made her way across the room to greet the Vonat wizard.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” said Meralda, as she threw open both of the laboratory’s ancient doors. “Welcome to the Royal Thaumaturgical Laboratory of Tirlin.”

The captain did not return what Meralda hoped was her sweetest, most winning smile.

“May I present our honored guests from noble Vonath,” said the captain, in a near growl. “Ambassador Moring.”

A thin hawkish man, clad all in severe Vonat black, clicked his heels together as he executed the smallest of Vonat bows toward Meralda.

“Colonel Stranth.”

Another heel click and bow, by another rangy Vonat. Meralda smiled at both men, who seemed intent on communicating their utter disdain for all things Tirlish with nothing but piercing, clench-jawed glares.

“Baron Stefan von Drake.”

The aging baron met Meralda’s smile with a leer and a brief whispered comment in Vonat to his fellows. The captain’s face flushed the color of day old steak.

“The Mage to the Crown of Vonat, Humindorus Nam.”

The Vonat mage came forward to stand before Meralda.

No,thought Meralda, as he approached. He hasn’t come to stand before me. He’s come to stand over me. I hadn’t realized how tall he is, from watching him in the glass.

The Vonat sauntered between his companions, even forcing the baron to take a hasty step back lest he be bowled over by the wizard.

“So.” He halted directly in front of Meralda, towering two feet over her. Forcing me to crane my head to look up,realized Meralda. What a petty little man.“The stories are true. Tirlin’s mage is a woman.”

“So I am told,” replied Meralda. “Imagine my shock upon learning my gender from a newspaper article.”

The Vonat’s pale face flushed. Someone, Meralda suspected the captain, though she did not look away from Nam to see, stifled a snort of laughter.

Meralda kept her smile wide. The Vonat’s bloodshot eyes bore into hers.

“So you’ve come for the traditional visit,” said Meralda, brightly. “Well, I certainly don’t want to keep you waiting. Won’t you come in?”

The Vonat glared. Meralda kept her smile, stepped aside, and motioned toward the laboratory.

The Vonat stepped across the threshold. His companions moved to follow, but Meralda stepped in front of them, her hand uplifted.

“Tradition demands that the mage may visit,” she said. “The rest of you may find ample seating on yonder stair.”

The captain and three Vonats lifted their voices in protest.

Meralda slammed the door.

The Vonat turned at the sound. His face fell into a scowl.

“How dare you refuse my countrymen entry,” he began.

Meralda shrugged. “Tradition demands that the Vonat mage be given a tour of the laboratory. It says nothing about ambassadors or barons.”

Humindorus bristled. His left eyelid began to twitch.

“I am not accustomed to being spoken to in this fashion.”

“How terrible. I suggest you lodge a formal complaint with your embassy. Now then.” Meralda turned and pointed to the rear of the laboratory. “Back there, you see the Royal Repository of Arcane Artifacts. Over there is the Royal Water Closet. Yonder sits my desk. The rather attractive chair is mine as well.” She put her hands on her hips and let her forced smile fall.

“I believe that concludes your tour, Mage. I’m sure you have many other duties to attend. Please feel free to drop by again when Tirlin next hosts the Accords, in twenty years or so. Good day.”

I may have pushed too far just then,Meralda thought. Indeed, the Vonat’s face was nearly purple with rage.

Would he dare lift a hand against me here?

“Insolent woman,” hissed the mage. “You know not who you abuse.”

“Oh, I know perfectly well who I’m abusing,” said Meralda. She found her smile again. “I’ll not waste time pretending to be civil. Not on the likes of you. Show yourself out, won’t you? I have work to do. Mage’s work.”

Meralda turned her back on the furious wizard, and marched toward her desk, counting the steps as she went.

One, two, three…

“We will meet again, girl. Oh yes. We will meet again.”

Meralda waved briefly over her shoulder. She did not look back.

Four, five, six…

The laboratory doors were flung open with a bang. Booted feet stamped angrily from the room. Voices were raised outside, cut off as the doors slammed shut again.

Meralda reached her desk and sagged against it.

Mug’s leaves whipped as if in a windstorm. “What was that, mistress? If he wasn’t intent on murder before he certainly is now.”

Meralda mopped sweat from her forehead and managed a grin. “Men who rage commit rash acts.”

“Murder chief among them,” said Mug. He emulated a heavy sigh. “Wait. I recognize the raging quote. Tim the Horsehead, isn’t it?”

Meralda nodded, glad Mug couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.

“Mistress. I hope you know what you’re doing. The man’s name means life-taker, remember? No telling how many mages he killed just to print that on his stationary.”

“What was I supposed to do? Serve him tea, polish those ridiculous boots?” Meralda yanked back her chair and sat. “As long as his attention is on me, it’s not on the Tower. Heaven help us all if he finds the curseworks and realizes what they are.”

“I am taking every effort to ensure that does not happen,” said the Tower. The image in the glass shimmered and showed Humindorus Nam’s thin back stamping down the stair, his cloak flapping behind him like a pair of furled wings. “You should note, however, that the wizard left behind a listening charm when you turned your back.”

Mug squealed. The Tower continued. “Nameless rendered it useless. He has heard nothing.”

“Thank you, Nameless,” said Meralda. A shadow flitted across the ceiling.

A furious knock sounded at the door. “Mage!” cried the captain. “Meralda! Are you all right?”

“Come in,” cried Meralda. “I’m fine.”

The captain and the Bellringers spilled through the door. Meralda turned in her chair to face them.

“What the devil…?” began the captain.

“I wanted a word with the mage, Captain. Alone.”

The captain bit back his response. Tervis and Kervis exchanged glances, but took their hands off their sword hilts.

“He wasn’t rude to you, was he, ma’am?” asked Kervis.

“No more than I expected.” Meralda shook her head. “I am the mage to Tirlin,” she said. “I appreciate your concern. I do, really. But I’m neither helpless nor foolish.”

“No.” The captain took in a great breath. “Forgive me, Mage Ovis. You know what you’re doing.”

Meralda smiled. “You need not apologize for being concerned, Captain. I’m concerned too. Which is why I’ll ask you to assign as many keen eyed young men as you can spare to follow our Vonat friend about for the remainder of the Accords.”

The captain tilted his head. “You know of course that we’re already doing that.”

“I suspected as much. Have these young men of yours been seen?”

“Not once. They’re very good.”

“Then assign a few with less skill. Encourage them to keep a safe distance. Just make sure the Vonat knows his movements are being watched.”

The captain grinned. “Consider it done, Mage. Anything else?”

“Coffee. Lots of coffee.” Meralda sighed. “And bring me a proper dagger. Not fancy or ornamental. One that fits in a boot.”

The captain nodded, all humor gone. “At once. Tervis, fetch the mage her coffee. I’ll stand watch in your place.”

The captain winked, and the trio backed through the doors, closing them softly behind them.

The pot of coffee was empty when the Bellringers accompanied Fromarch through the laboratory doors.

The aging wizard bore a box of jelly filled pastries from Flayne’s and a moth eaten burlap bag.

“Ho, Mage,” he said, opening the box and offering the contents to Meralda. “Oh, go on, take one. You could use a bit of flesh on those skinny bones. Hello, houseplant. You’re looking as leafy as ever.”

Mug returned a mock salute. “Mage. Grey fur suits you.”

Fromarch chuckled and bowed toward Goboy’s glass. “Tower. I don’t believe we’ve met, formally.”

“Mage,” said the Tower. “Greetings.”

Fromarch nodded gravely. “After all these years. You could have said hello before, you know. I wouldn’t have charged off telling the papers.”

The Tower had no reply. Fromarch shrugged and grabbed a pastry. “Well, if you’re not going to eat them I will, Meralda. Cost me a bloody five pence, you know.”

Meralda rolled her eyes, but selected a cherry filled donut and bit into it.

She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. “I had forgotten how good these are.”

“You’ve likely forgotten to eat at all today, I’ll wager,” muttered Fromarch. He wiped his lips on his sleeve. “But I’m not your mother. Came to fill this bag. Do you want to know what with?”

“Will knowing cause me to lose sleep?”

“Without a doubt. You said cause trouble. That’s what our daft Eryan friend and the old Hang gentleman intend to do. We need a few things from the shelves. Bad things.” The old wizard’s face split into a rare grin. “Bad, bad things.”

Meralda swallowed and raised her hands. “Take what you need. I don’t want to know.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Not even a hint.”

Fromarch nodded. “Well, you might want to release the wards on aisle eight,” he said. “Lots of bad things there.”

Aisle eight. The relics from the second century. The Vonat War.Meralda forced a nod and rose, heading for the ward sigils hidden behind a false stone to the left of the doors.

“Oh. The red crate on the north wall. I’ll want in that, too.”

Meralda spoke the words that revealed the row of hidden sigils, and then traced the release pattern on the aisle eight ward.