Home Again
There are three schools of magic: Witchcraft, Shamanism, and Wizardry. The Witch draws her power from Elethay, and the power is abundant, but only within the will of the Goddess. The Shaman draws his power through spirit allies, and his power is limited by the power of his spirit allies, and by his ability maintain those alliances. The Wizard draws power into the world by the strength of his own will, and at the cost of his own health; of the three, he is the most free, and the most limited. Of course, the Wizard can always choose to go down the dark path of the Necromancer, and deliberately cast unbalanced spells. This leads to great power, but also pours Warp into the world like a cancer.
–Dennold the Sage, “Introduction to the Arcane Arts”
I had a few moments to think while Chalice recovered from her shock. I tried to remember everything I knew about the temple and its layout, and did my best to come up with a plan that didn’t involve Chalice being consumed by Clytemnestra. It didn’t occur to me that Chalice might see the problem as much bigger than it really was…
“Quill, where can I go? They’ll come looking for me, even if they don’t know I’m a shapeshifter!” There was so much pain in her voice it hurt ME to hear it.
I did my best to sound hopeful. “There is a small Valarian enclave across the river; they’ll take you in. They took me in, didn’t they? All we have to do is get out of the temple, and cross the river. And the ferryman is my friend, so the river shouldn’t be TOO hard.”
“You’re a Valarian?”
I shook my head. “Only an apprentice. And they tell me I’m also a dragon, but I haven’t seen any evidence of it.” Chalice stared at me wide eyed; I set her on the bed and started to take off my clothes. “There really isn’t much security here, is there? They keep the girls in line by fear?”
Chalice nodded. “They say they’ll kill us if we try to escape. And they will.”
“Only if you get caught. And they are going to kill you anyway, if they find out what you are. So… We are going to do our best to disguise you as a farm boy on his way home from his first big night on the town.” Chalice looked at me skeptically. “I’m serious. We use one of these scarves to bind your breasts, we use my belt pouch to thicken your waist, and you wear my clothes, including the boots. We go out the little door I left by last time, where there’s only one guard, and we make sure he doesn’t look too closely at you, because he will be dealing with the drunken orc in the yellow silk diaper.”
Chalice giggled at that. “Are you that good an actor?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? I’m pretty much hoping the costume will carry the day. Do you have any alcohol around? The smellier the better. Don’t worry it it’s poisonous; I’m an orc, remember?” Chalice just shook her head, but she smiled as she did it.
We pinned Chalice’s hair to the top of her head and made her a hat out of a piece of blanket, then held the whole mess together with the “Kanchaka” brooch I had brought back from Blackwater. When we were done, Chalice may not have looked a convincing farm boy, but she wasn’t very convincing as a beautiful woman, either. I hoped that would be enough.
The escape from the temple went flawlessly; I staggered around a corner, tripped into the guard, and grabbed him above his waist so that I could hang on him with all of my weight. Chalice walked past and coughed, “Good night,” at the guard as he was trying to get enough leverage to throw me into the street. We ducked into an alley, Chalice gave me back my trousers and boots-my shirt came to mid-thigh on her, and was as good as a tunic-and we made our way to the river.
The ferry was floating in mid-stream; I looked closely and identified a lump that I hoped was a sleeping ‘Bacco. I threw a small rock at the lump; it stirred, and acknowledged my presence with a many-toothed grin. I heard Chalice gasp and begin to whimper behind me; I turned to see what had gone wrong.
“What… What is that THING?” she stammered, and I realized that the gods had one more trick to play on me before the sun came up.
“That’s my friend Tobacco. He’s a vermite. He’s going to take us across the river.”
“He’s a RAT!” Chalice shrieked, and I clamped a hand over her mouth.
“He’s my friend, and a good person, and your life depends on calming down and crossing the river with him. Understood?” I stared into her eyes, and she relaxed a bit. “How about this: Close your eyes, and I’ll carry you.” She nodded and closed her eyes; I took the hand off of her mouth and lifted her in my arms as ‘Bacco brought the ferry to the near pier.
We were in mid-river when I looked up and caught the glint of ‘Bacco’s toothy grin. “You have a comment?” I growled.
‘Bacco shook his head and continued to grin. “The last time you went to the temple, all you got was a good night’s sleep. This time you’re bringing home one of the girls. You still haven’t gotten it RIGHT.” He went back to grinning as I fought to suppress my laughter; Chalice opened her eyes timidly, and I lost the battle. I doubt that she found my laughter reassuring, but that was part of the joke.
I installed Chalice in my bed, and crawled off to try to grab a few hours of sleep on the smithy floor; I underestimated both my fatigue and Perrin’s sense of humor. Perrin opened the smithy as quietly as he could, and then got out his heaviest hammer and hit the anvil with all of his considerable strength; I didn’t quite bounce off of the ceiling.
“Your first day back after two months, and you can’t even manage to stay awake. I’m ashamed of you, Boy,” Perrin growled. I growled back, and got on with the day.
That evening we removed Chalice’s Haskalad and Jikadell slave brands, which was a horrible process. I held Chalice’s hands and provided moral support while Perrin and Jasmine alternately cut away the scarred skin and cast healing spells. When they were done, Chalice had severe but meaningless scars on her shoulder, which Jasmine assured her would fade every time Chalice shifted shape. Jasmine gave Chalice a strong sleeping draught, and I went off to spend another night on the smithy floor.
I dreamed that night. I saw a Farillan girl, who I knew was a unicorn, talking to a tall Ebonese man, who I knew was a necromancer. I seemed to be watching them from a great distance. The girl was asking for help, and did not know that the man intended to kill her and drain her soul. I tried to call out a warning, but could not make a sound; I tried to run to help, but could barely move. The necromancer turned and looked at me; he seemed puzzled by me, but my presence did not stop him; he reached out to cut the girl’s throat…
I was sitting on the floor of the smithy and gasping for breath. As I shook off the effects of the dream I realized that someone was watching me from a few feet away. I peered into the gloom and recognized Ghost, the boy I had seen in the temple. My right hand slid across the floor to my dagger hilt as I summoned the friendliest voice I could manage and said, “Hello.”
The boy stared at me for a while longer, then asked, “They’re Valarians? The smith, and the shopkeeper?”
I thought about that. “What makes you think that they might be?”
“You told Chalice you were going to take her to stay with Valarians.”
I tried not to gape; I hoped he couldn’t see my face very well. “You were there?”
“The walls told me,” he said, as if he were talking about something he had overheard in the marketplace.
“Ah. I guess that makes you a gargoyle,” I said; he didn’t answer, or even blink. “Yes, they’re Valarians. Why don’t you come back in the morning and introduce yourself? I’ll tell Perrin to expect you.”
He blinked once or twice, slowly, then nodded and faded into the darkness. I wrapped myself in my blanket and curled into a very tight ball to try to sleep, holding my dagger by its sheath like a talisman.
Ghost walked into the smithy the next morning as promised, and Perrin greeted him like a long lost nephew; in the afternoon Chalice surfaced with her hair and complexion dyed to make her look like a Haskalad.
Life settled into a quiet routine for several weeks. Chalice helped Jasmine with whatever needed doing; she was almost as wary of Perrin as she was of the male rats, though she soon warmed to Pepper for some reason; it seemed that I was the only male who had been absolved for her ordeal in the Jikadell temple. Ghost watched and listened in the smithy, and generally wandered about; he spent as much time questioning rocks as he did talking to the living, and when he did speak, it was usually only to me or Perrin. I continued to learn smith-craft. Every few days ‘Bacco and I crossed the river to visit Philo and collect free drinks from Stragus; the girl he had been obsessed with had disappeared, and he was inconsolable. Occasionally Perrin even joined us, though his dislike for Stragus and his disapproval of Philo were barely masked.
One evening I was sitting on the riverbank a few hundred yards north of the smithy; there was a rather comfortable stone outcropping there, and the river bent so that you could ignore Lechmore completely if you wanted to. I heard Perrin hobbling up behind me and turned to watch him approach, then offered him the best seat; he took it.
“Why don’t you get that fixed?” I asked.
Perrin scowled at me. “Because it’s proof that I’m NOT a gargoyle, idiot. It’s just part of the job.”
“You cut off your leg…”
“No, it was crushed by a taur cart. In public, in broad daylight, in Lechmore. And the DAY I decide to leave, you can bet I’ll go into a stone trance and grow it back. But for now, it’s part of the job.” He shook his head sadly.
“And what exactly IS that job, Perrin? You hate the Haskalads, and yet you live on their doorstep.” I sat on the grass facing Perrin as I spoke.
“Because someone has to keep the door open,” said a voice off my elbow, and I turned to see Ravin; I forced myself not to jump, and Perrin grinned at my efforts, then pointed across the river.
“There are about a quarter million people in Lechmore District, nearly half the people in the whole valley. Every year, about fifty of them find out that they’re shapeshifters. About a dozen each of Morovians, unicorns, and wolves, plus a few each of dragons, gargoyles, pegasai, and werecats. There are about 500 necromancers, including apprentices, plus about 5000 mixed lackeys, all looking for those 50 confused kids. And against those 5000 troops, there are about two dozen Valarians, living VERY quietly, trying to get to the fledglings before the necros do. And they manage to get about half of them, and they send them to me, and I send them over the mountains.” Perrin took out his pipe and began to fill it.
“Only half? So you’re always looking for more Valarians?” I asked; I heard Ravin chuckle.
“Not really. At least, not for Lechmore,” Ravin said. “Perrin can always use good people, but this is a stable situation; this operation is as big as it can get and still survive.”
I didn’t see it. “What do you mean? You can’t rescue more than half the new shifters?”
Perrin shook his head. “Morovians and unicorns are free for the draining to any necro who can catch them; they’re too hard to hold. Pretty much the same goes for gargoyles, though they’re rare enough that it isn’t a law. But the others are legally the property of Countess Cassandra Lechmore, Clytemnestra’s older sister. And she owes twelve of them, including any dragons captured, to Bane. A few years ago we got ambitious and rescued 34 fledglings; Bane only got seven shifters in his tribute.”
“And the problem with that was?”
“There was a crackdown. The next year we only rescued ten fledglings, and we lost eight of our own people, including two who sacrificed themselves to make Bane think our operation had been crippled.”
I closed my eyes tightly and bowed my head. “Grey lady.” Ravin raised an imaginary glass in tribute; Perrin just shook his head.
Perrin broke the silence. “We can do whatever we want, as long as we stay out of sight; the necros don’t miss shifters they never knew existed. But once the necros have their hands on someone, all we can do is watch, unless we want to lose everything. 25 Valarians can save 25 shifters a year; it would take about ten thousand Valarians to save the other 25.”
“But that would end Bane forever, wouldn’t it?” I asked.
Ravin chuckled again. “Now THERE is a happy thought.”
Perrin shrugged. “I think so. But the supply of necros is pretty much unlimited. It would be nice to see the whole valley as peaceful as the Ebonese district, though.” I nodded, and Perrin continued, “I’ve enjoyed your company, Quill. But the day is going to come when I chase you across the ridge; they need warriors in the Manilac district a lot more than we need you here. And you don’t seem too well suited to the ambush and murder work that ‘Bacco and Whisky do to make sure the Haskalads are afraid of these woods.”
I nodded again. “Probably not. But that day isn’t here yet, is it?”
Perrin grinned. “Not yet.”
“Well, then…” I shrugged, turned my back to the rock, and watched the light fade from the plains of Lechmore.
A few days later the storm season announced itself with an unusually large and virulent dragon storm; our little community gathered in Jasmine’s store and rode it out in style. The following day Ghost came bounding into the smithy at a dead run. He made it obvious that he wanted to speak to me at the first opportunity. ‘Bacco ambled into the smithy, and the customer with whom Perrin was dealing finally left.
“They’ve got Stragus,” Ghost gasped. “And Philo. Stragus is a wolf; he changed during the storm yesterday, in front of a crowd of people. And when Clytemnestra went to gloat over him, he tried to buy his way free by telling her that Philo really belonged to Sojourner, so she sent guards to collect him, too. They’re in the temple, now, but they’ll be shipped south to Bogtown the day after tomorrow.”
Perrin shook his head sadly and ‘Bacco swore under his breath. I clenched my teeth closed my eyes. Ghost stared at all of us.
“Aren’t they your friends?” Ghost asked.
I looked at him. “Can you take on ‘Bacco in a straight up fight?”
Ghost looked at ‘Bacco and then looked back at me. “No… Oh. Is it that bad?”
“At least,” ‘Bacco answered, and ambled off to the ferry muttering to himself. Perrin and I went back to work, though it didn’t do us much good; everything we tried seemed to suffer from too much strength and not enough precision. We closed the smithy early, and I commandeered Jasmine’s few precious maps for the evening.
That night I dreamed again of the necromancer and the unicorn girl; this time I saw him cut the girl’s throat and begin the death drain ritual, but I crushed his windpipe before he could finish the spell. I woke up in total darkness; I set my back to the wall and ground my teeth for a long while before I went to sleep again.
I awoke again long before dawn, lit a candle, and began to pack the things I would need; when I was done, I found Ghost and explained my plan to him, then went to open the smithy.
Ghost came in with a pack ready, and Perrin followed a short time later. Perrin looked at Ghost, and at the pack that leaned against the wall near him, and looked at me expectantly.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “I don’t see much choice in the matter. I’m returning the great sword, and the dagger you made for me; they should nearly cover the cost of the hauberk and shield that I am taking. And this should cover the rest,” I dropped my purse on the anvil. “I don’t expect I’ll need it.”
Perrin shook his head. “I assume you have some kind of plan?”
I nodded. “I’m going to wait for the caravan to make its last camp north of the fork in the road that leads to New Mercer. Then I’m going to provide a distraction, and Ghost is going to set the idiots free. And I’m going to do my best to see that Dyson Brickwall gets blamed for the whole thing.”
Perrin was skeptical. “What kind of distraction?”
I looked down, and grinned weakly. “I’m going to challenge the caravan to a duel.”
Perrin gaped for a moment, then said, “It might work. How are you going to escape?”
I looked into Perrin’s eyes, and saw that he already knew the only possible answer. “I’m not. But it’s the best of several bad choices.”
Perrin nodded and offered me his hand. “Go with the Lady’s favor, Quill. Give my regards to Valaria.”
I nodded, turned, and walked to the ferry; Ghost nodded to Perrin and followed me.