Authors: Trevor H. Cooley
“Wizard Valtrek is very thorough.” Riveren said with a shrug.
“He thinks the contract is sensitive in nature,” Djeri explained. “Look, I know this must stink like turds the way we’re doing this, but trust me, the academy doesn’t take dark jobs.”
Secret jobs can mean big coin
, said Grampa Rolf excitedly.
“Yeah, but that’s usually because they’re dangerous,” she mumbled, her skin crawling.
“What?” Riveren asked.
“I’ll need a quill and ink if you want me to sign this,” she said, pushing the feeling of uneasiness away. After all, what could it hurt to listen?
“Here, use this,” Djeri said. He handed her a narrow metal tube with a wooden cap on one end. “It’s called an ink cylinder. One of the wizards brought them back from Olivera. Everybody at the Mage School is using them now.”
She raised an eyebrow as she pulled off the wooden cap. A tiny brush stuck out from the end of the tube, glistening with ink.
Grampa Rolf would have loved this
, she thought as she signed the bottom of the parchment.
He could have made a fortune selling these
. She slid it across the table to Riveren. “So what’s the job?”
“Have you heard of rogue horses?” Riveren asked.
“Yes,” Tarah said. “Magic beasts. But aren’t they just legends?”
The two guards looked at each other and Djeri chuckled. “They’re real enough. I’ve seen a few of them up close over the years. In fact, we had two staying here at the Mage School during the siege.”
“You had two rogue horses here?” she said. Evidently fighting wasn’t all she’d missed during the war.
“Those two have nothing to do with this job.” Riveren said. “There’s another one out there. Wizard Valtrek has received reports from both Razbeck and Dremaldria that there’s a man traveling around hiring trackers to try and track this particular one down.”
Tarah nodded slowly, thinking of the man that gave her the drawings that sat in her pack. “And what does the wizard want me to do?”
“He wants you to find it first,” Djeri said.
“There are actually several parts to the job,” Riveren added. “Your first priority is finding and tracking this rogue horse. Secondly, he wants you to destroy any tracks you find so that this man or any of the people he’s hired don’t find it. Third, you should keep an ear out for this man while you search. Any information as to who the man is or what his intentions towards the rogue horse are should be reported back to Wizard Valtrek.”
“What do I do with this rogue horse when I find it?” she asked.
“You do nothing with it,” Riveren said. “You simply report back to Wizard Valtrek when you find it.”
Tarah ran one hand through her hair. “How am I supposed to do that? This thing could be anywhere. By the time I came back to the Mage School it could be long gone.”
“You let me take care of that part,” Djeri said.
Tarah raised an eyebrow and pointed at the dwarf. “You’re coming?”
“That’s right, just the two of you.” Riveren answered with a smile. “Tarah Woodblade and Jerry the Looker on an academy mission. I’m getting chills.”
Jerry the Looker? Tarah snorted. “Yeah. Sorry, but lugging around a dwarf in full platemail ain’t gonna make it easy for me to track this thing down.”
Djeri’s face reddened. “You won’t need to ‘lug’ me anywhere.”
You need to be nice if you want to get along with people
, her papa chided.
Tarah ignored the voice and gave the dwarf a frank stare. “Look, this ain’t meant to offend, Jerry, but I gotta keep a certain pace while I’m tracking and you’ll slow me down. Besides, the clanking of your armor will scare any beast, rogue or not, away.”
Djeri’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Riveren said, “Just a minute, Tarah. Jerry is a veteran member of the Defense Guild. He can keep any pace you can set. As for his armor-.”
“Have you heard me ‘clank’ even once?” Djeri interrupted and as Tarah thought about it, she realized that she hadn’t. “And this isn’t even my traveling armor. The suit I’ll be wearing is padded for stealth. As for any other objections you can come up with, girl, they’re not worth turds. I’ve been adventuring for a hundred years. I know what I’m doing.”
“Turds?” Tarah said, then shook her head. “Fine. If you say you can keep up, I’ll believe you.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Riveren asked with a hopeful smile.
His blue eyes glinted charmingly, but Tarah wasn’t quite ready to answer that question. “Do we have a description of this rogue horse?”
Riveren nodded. “One of Valtrek’s sources saw it briefly. The front end of it’s some kind of ape-like thing and its rear end is like a mountain cat.” He pulled out another sheet of parchment and slid it towards her. “The tracks look like this.”
Tarah struggled to keep her gaze indifferent. The drawings were very similar to the ones in her pack. How much should she tell them? “I’ve . . . seen these tracks before.”
“Where?” Djeri asked in surprise.
“On the way here from Sampo, right by the place where I burned the trolls,” she said. “They’d been there for a long time, maybe a few rains, but it was hard to tell. They were covered in troll slime.”
Djeri rubbed his beard musingly. “It has only rained a couple of times since the end of the war.”
“But it’s a starting point,” Tarah said.
“The report Wizard Valtrek had is more recent than that,” Riveren said. “He says that his source saw the rogue horse two days ago just east of Pinewood. He has a map I can give you. That is if you’re taking the job.”
“Just east . . .” Her house was in that area. Tarah felt a strange certainty that this was something she was supposed to do. Still, she resisted. “How much will this pay?”
“Two gold dremals a week,” Riveren said. “That’s nearly full graduate pay.”
Gold is gold
, said Grampa Rolf.
“I’ll do it,” Tarah agreed.
“Good!” the Captain Commander said with a wide smile and stood. “I’ll grab the contract while you two gather the provisions you need. I’ll meet you back at the gate in an hour with your horses.”
“Horses?” Djeri said with distaste.
“You’ll need them if you want to get there quickly,” Riveren said.
“I’d rather ride a turd,” the dwarf grumbled.
“I don’t think that’s physically possible, Jerry,” Riveren said with a chuckle.
“I’m not much for horses, Riveren. You know that,” Djeri said.
“I agree with the dwarf,” Tarah said. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tracking something for folks and we get to a tight squeeze or a steep climb and they’re like, ‘What the hell are we supposed to do with the horses?’.”
Djeri laughed and Riveren sighed. “You’re going to need something to help with your provisions at least. I’ll talk to the stableman.” He stood to leave, but Tarah reached out to stop him.
“Wait, there’s something I wanted to show you.” Tarah walked to the bedroom and retrieved the sword, then brought it back to the table. “I found this sword in the hands of a bandit northwest of here.” She unsheathed the blade and laid it on the table in front of them. “Do you have a way of knowing if someone is looking for it?”
Riveren froze, the smile falling from his face.
Djeri’s eyes were wide with recognition. “That’s Tamboor the Fearless’ blade.”
“He’s called Master Tolivar now, Jerry,” Riveren corrected, his voice sounding haunted as he reached one hand out to touch the hilt.
“Right,” the dwarf said.
“Tamboor’s . . . This is Meredith?” Tarah asked, swallowing at the thought that she’d been carrying such a legendary sword.
“Yeah,” said Riveren, sadness in his eyes. “I was there on the last day of the war when this sword was lost on the battlefield.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“No,” Djeri assured her. “He’s fine.”
Tarah’s brow furrowed in confusion. If he was alive, then why was Riveren’s attitude so solemn? “Then I guess he’ll be wanting it back,” she said slowly.
“I don’t know.” Riveren said. He slid the sword back into the ugly sheath and picked it up. “But that’s his decision to make. I’ll send it to him.” He turned his gaze on her. “I suppose you’re wanting a finders fee.”
“Well, I-.” Her grampa’s training screamed yes, but she found herself saying, “‘Course not. I’m just glad to return it.”
Riveren gave her an appreciative nod and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll-um, be seeing you at the front gate in an hour then. Jerry will help you get the supplies you need.” He gave her a brief smile, then opened the door and left.
Tarah stared after him in puzzlement. “What was that about?”
“His friend died while wielding that sword,” Djeri said somberly. He gave her a calculating look. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a reward.”
Without knowing why, Tarah said, “My papa told me all about that sword. Tamboor the Fearless used to be a friend of his.”
“Oh?” the dwarf said, he looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
“Well I guess we should get our provisions together, eh Jerry?”
“Yeah.” The dwarf started to leave but paused in the doorway. He sighed and turned around. “Listen, girl. We’re going to be working together for awhile and there’s one think I want to get clear before we get any further. My name’s not Jerry. It’s Djeri.”
“Oh,” Tarah said. “But Riveren was calling you Jerry.”
“Yeah, I have to put up with it from him because he’s the captain, but I’m not putting up with it from you.” Tarah’s mouth tightened and the dwarf raised his hands defensively. “Look, I don’t mean any offense. It’s just that I’ve seen some relatives of mine put up with it and next thing you know, no one says your name right.”
“I guess I can see how that would get annoying,” she said.
“Okay?” he said. “So again, it’s Djeri.”
“So . . .” She squinted as she sounded it out. “It’s kind of like Jerry, but not quite?”
“It’s really not that close,” the dwarf insisted and spoke his name slowly. “It’s Djeri.”
“Okay, but,” Tarah frowned. “Do I really have to roll the R? I mean, I don’t want to insult you or nothing, but I always feel dumb trying to roll my Rs.”
He stomped his foot. “Blast it, girl, it’s not that hard. Djeri! It’s not a full roll of the R. More like a half roll.”
“And there’s a duhjuh at the front?” she said. “So . . . Djeri?”
“Good. Well . . . close enough. It’ll do,” said the dwarf. He shrugged and shook his head as he walked out the door. “This could be a long trip.”
As Tarah followed after him she couldn’t help but agree.
Chapter Five
Arcon sipped the watery ale in his tankard. His eyes scanned the the tavern for any hint of his pursuers. Mallad was a dangerous place for him to be. Of course all of Alberri was dangerous for him right now. He just hoped that his pursuers wouldn’t think to look for him in the heart of their domain.
He had picked a perfect spot to wait, a booth near the side exit, slightly hidden in the shadows, but with a clear view of the front door. There were three such spots in this place, a fact that had first attracted him to it the week before. The roughly carved sign hanging outside the tavern read, ‘The Mallad Duck’. Arcon knew the name was a bad pun, but that was unimportant. This was a place to hide from the eyes of the city and that’s what Arcon needed the most right now.
“
You aren’t the only one ‘ducking’ here
.”
Arcon ignored the voice in his head. She knew that he was aware of the tavern’s other occupants. Magic was highly regulated in this city and the authorities had ways of knowing when spells of power were used, but there were ways to hide magic. Arcon could sense the low thrum of hidden spells in several areas of the tavern. He couldn’t see the composition of the spells with his mage sight, but they were there.
Arcon had several spells going himself. One darkened the shadows around him while the other disguised his face. Neither spell would be noticeable by any but the most experienced of wizards. Arcon knew more about hiding magic than most. After all, he had been doing it for a long time, ever since he first picked up the moonrat eye.
“
You had an excellent teacher
,” the female voice reminded, her deep and throaty voice as loud as if she were speaking right in his ear.
He snorted softly. Her statement was true enough, but only because he had spent a lot of that time hiding his magic from her.
Leave me alone, Mellinda
.
None of the magic here is being directed on me
. He had protective magic of his own. He would know the moment someone tried anything.
She fumed in silence over his casual use of her name and Arcon smiled. As far as he was concerned, being able to needle her without punishment was the one perk he had with their current . . . situation.
Arcon’s thoughts were interrupted as the front door to the tavern opened briefly. A shaft of sunlight penetrated the darkness, highlighting the figure of a lone man wearing a long tan coat with a high collar. The man paused in the light for a moment, his head moving back and forth as he scanned the dim confines of the tavern. Then the light vanished as the door shut behind him and he walked down the stairs to stand in the shadows by the bar. Arcon couldn’t see the newcomer’s face, but he wasn’t too worried. His pursuers always ran in groups of three or more.
“
You don’t know that for sure
,” Mellinda said. “
We should leave
.”
They know what I can do,
he reminded her. In fact his pursuers knew too much about him. The last two times they had come close to finding him, the dark wizards had been accompanied by either archers or dwarves wearing some kind of charm protecting them from fire magic. Fire was his main talent.
Besides, I can’t spook every time someone enters. It’s more dangerous out in the streets where I can’t keep track of everyone
.
The newcomer left the bar and moved to a table not far from where Arcon sat. He held a drink in one hand and didn’t so much as glance in Arcon’s direction. He sat stiffly in a chair facing away from Arcon and took sips from his drink as he moved his head, scanning the darkness on the far side of the bar.