Netheril - Dangerous Games Part 13

Did she chuckle, or did he just imagine it? "In that case, I'll burn a beggar in her honor. What-"

With a gasp, she put down her head and ran. Sunbright heard nothing, for his ears were less sharp than a part-elf's, but her urgency made him drop the golem carca.s.s and pelt after her.

The iron door to the homestead lay flat on the tunnel floor. From within came shrieks and shouts and curses. Knucklebones sailed over the door, and Sunbright stomped on it to follow.

Inside the rookery, half a dozen spider golems harried Knucklebones' thieves while city guards killed with glowing clubs.

Candlemas included, every mage and apprentice had to drop their experiments and turn to a new task: the exploration of super heavy magic. Yet, as many expected, exactly what was required was unclear. Projects were thrown into motion while Karsus ran from one to another, hollering orders, then das.h.i.+ng off in mid sentence only to return moments later with countermands. The only consistency was his ranting about "war machines."

Soldiers arrived with sledges stacked high with bizarre tools of ma.s.s destruction. These contraptions had lain dormant in warehouses, or under barracks, and a few were dragged from caves under Karsus's own mansions. Why Karsus wanted to resurrect war machines when there was no immediate threat to the empire was not explained.

Candlemas was present at the first official test of a modified war machine, and it frightened him.

A ballista, a giant crossbow shooting spears twice as tall as a man, had been hauled by soldiers and oxen onto an outside balcony. Normally its great arrows were just sharpened logs. But Karsus had coppersmiths and armorers fas.h.i.+on an arrowhead of copper sheets that measured three feet across. And was hollow. The mad mage himself oversaw the fitting of the great arrowhead to the log and, from a dozen blueware crocks, poured into the hollow point a startling quant.i.ty of super heavy magic tinged a fiery red. He explained that, previously, heavy magic would dissipate if catapulted through the air, but this heavier stuff should cling together. Hammering down the lid, Karsus daubed a brush and, chanting and giggling, painted an elaborate rune on the red-gold metal. Karsus then ordered the ancient sergeant manning the ballista to aim for Emperor's Park, which from this balcony was just visible past tiered houses and trees. Stone-faced, the grizzled veteran tolled off orders and a warning to stand clear. An axe fell, and the restraining rope parted.

With a BRONG and WHOOs.h.!.+ the giant arrow split the sky, rocketing across the heights. Its tail chased its head until it began to spin end over end. It disappeared behind the trees and- Everyone grunted as a ma.s.sive explosion rent the air and made the balcony tremble. A geyser of dirt, gra.s.s, and rocks cascaded upward in a fan, then rattled back down. Candlemas thought he saw a body, arms and legs flailing, among the debris, but wasn't sure.

Laughing, Karsus took center stage. "See? It works! I can increase the power of exploding runes a thousandfold, blow a huge crater where my enemies are hiding, then another and another until they're flinders! Oh, and think! There's more! Invisible arrows that couldn't be s.h.i.+elded. We could create tornadoes-that would fix 'em! Once they're spinning, s.h.i.+ft heavy magic into them and increase their power, until they can split a mountain! Or better, power sinks to draw off my foes' magic and turn it against them. Yes, we must work on that-"

Karsus and his usual hangers-on-toadies all-sailed back into the workshops. Soldiers wrapped the slack ropes of the ballista and departed. Candlemas went in the opposite direction from Karsus.

Yet war madness was catching. Mages talked openly about punis.h.i.+ng "Karsus's enemies," though no one had a clue who these enemies were. Everyone plotted new methods of destruction, egging each other on to greater hopes for devastation. Bubbleheads argued that improved war machines would dishearten the enemy, causing rivals to capitulate without a fight, so the empire might stretch her borders and grow even greater. Yet at the same time, they acknowledged that pockets in the north were exhausted of magic, thinned so badly that floating cities couldn't drift near for fear of plummeting. To the former steward of the former Castle Delia, it seemed folly to plan more magic mischief when their own city's existence was precarious already. But like children, Karsus's cronies were addicted to their dangerous games and couldn't quit. Until someone, or all of them, were hurt or killed.

Later that day, even working alone, Candlemas was almost killed by someone else's stupidity.

He was working down the hall from the star chamber. No one wanted to work in that cursed s.p.a.ce lest corrupted magic queer their experiments. Candlemas puttered. He hoped to fas.h.i.+on a magictight compartment of star-metal to contain super heavy magic. At least that way, they could safely store the stuff and keep fools from tampering with it.

A scream rang out and Candlemas ran. A brilliant flare lit the hallway, pouring from the door of one workshop, and Candlemas squinted at a fierce blaze consuming the floor.

One mage had been burned to death, shriveled to charred meat. Another crawled aimlessly, shrieking as his robe flared out of control. Candlemas ran back to his workshop and grabbed a thick rug. Others had gathered in the hall to gape, and he bulled them aside to wrap the rug around the burning man and snuff the flames.

The rug immediately caught fire. Shocked, Candlemas ripped it loose and hurled it away, but his sleeve ignited. While others stared stupidly, Candlemas tore his sleeve free by main strength. Singed skin made him gasp.

The burning mage had died. The stink of charring wood and scorched flesh, and his own brush with disaster made Candlemas queasy. He blundered out the door. At least, he soothed himself, the fire had dropped through the table to the stone floor, and would now extinguish.

But someone shouted, pointing, "There goes the stone!"

Candlemas gaped. The fire was burning through the flagstones. And still going. Creeping mages jostled to peer into the hole and the fools burned their feet on molten stone. Craning, Candlemas saw the fire burning on the next floor down. Later he learned it had just kept going, until it burned through the cellars to create a pit where it cooked for three days before sputtering out. Reconstructing the experiment, Candlemas and others learned that the two dead mages had infused a flaming sphere with super heavy magic, creating an unquenchable fire. They'd bragged beforehand that Karsus would be pleased, and reward them for their discovery. Karsus was indeed delighted with the news, but never asked the names of the dead.

Candlemas wondered if he weren't the only sane mage in the castle. Or if, by remaining, his own sanity was in question. ...

Sunbright had the fight of his life, and mostly in the dark. He only prayed he was shearing enemies and not friends.

It was a question of which was more dangerous, the sniffer-driven golems or the raging guards. The possums had the instincts of animals, which was to flee a battle if possible. But they were trapped in the rookery and panicked. Their scrabbling, tearing claws were like thres.h.i.+ng knives amidst wheat.

Sunbright saw a nest of bedding shredded to rags and kicked against a wall. He hoped no one was in it.

It was almost impossible to see with only one light, "Knucklebones's night-light," a mere stripe on the rock wall. The guards brought their own light, enchanted batons that glowed in the dark. Sunbright judged that a foolish tactic, for he had only to chop six inches below the glowing wand to lop off a hand-when he guessed correctly which end to strike at. Still, the guards' other hands clutched short swords, and soon they tossed the wands away.

Rampaging guards attacked sleepers in niches while Sunbright dodged blows from all around.

Twice he tripped and tumbled over a black golem. He'd shorn one man's hand, leaving, he guessed, five guards still fighting.

And somewhere were Knucklebones's gang. He heard a chain clink and ching, knew Rolon swung the weighted end, and for once a guard shouted. Oddly, the most competent person was Ox, who, blind, knew the rookery better than anyone. He'd batted a guard with his staff, hoicked the man off his feet, and probably burst his guts, but Ox blundered into a golem that clamped his ankles and tangled his feet. Another guard's baton thudded onto the blind giant's skull. Whether or not he was stabbed to death after that Sunbright didn't know.

Occasionally he glimpsed Knucklebones, bounding like an alley cat, stabbing and twisting with her black, elven blade. But he heard too a shriek and burble, and guessed some woman's lungs had been pierced.

They had to finish this dustup quickly, for more guards might spill through the door at any time.

Currently he stood between two guards who took turns jabbing at him from the dark. He flung his sword to his right, but had to whip it back quickly to guard his left. And he was stuck. He'd blundered into a hole and tangled his feet in wicker food baskets. Trying to jump free only banged his knees. He wasn't even sure if the guards were stuck in the same hole, or crouched alongside it. He considered drawing Dorlas's hammer and flinging it, then crawling over a guard if he toppled. But how would he know?

He felt a kiss alongside his ear, the cold breath of steel and a near miss, and let go Harvester's pommel to grab. His hand closed on a sleeve and he jerked the man off his feet and hurled him into his partner. Sunbright was rewarded by double grunts, but when he stabbed in that direction, he struck nothing. Cursing, he slapped his palms flat and kicked to jump free of the hole. His boot touched another foot. Groping, he clunked a wagging helmet, realized what it meant, then slammed the heel of his hand under the helmet to keep the guard flat. Guessing, he used his free hand to ram Harvester into a solid body. Whether he killed another guard underneath, or that man was gone, he couldn't tell.

Stone claws nipped at his boot, and he caught his balance and kicked viciously. He hurt his toes but toppled the squirming beast into the hole he'd just left, or at least he thought he did.

Crouching, sword in two hands, ready to strike anywhere, he listened. The noises had died down.

Scuffles, skittering, a gurgle, were all he could hear.

Risking the chance, he called, "Knucklebones! Light!"

In answer, glowing stripes the width of a woman's hand flared along one wall. Immediately the small thief slid away, circled, striped elsewhere. Sunbright found even that tiny illumination smarting after so much darkness.

Then he could see, and wished he couldn't.

Two dead guards lay interlocked near him. A spider golem kicked six legs helplessly in a hole.

Another guard was face down over the fire pit, another moaning from Ox's punis.h.i.+ng belly smash.

Knucklebones had stabbed the last two, and stood over one with a b.l.o.o.d.y blade. But Ox was dead, his neck hacked half through. Lothar, with his broken leg, had been plucked from his bed and stabbed. And Mother had been run through the lungs.

Face grim, Knucklebones called and the children, trained to run at the first sign of trouble, came creeping from the shadows: Corah, crying over her dead father, the topknotted twins Aba and Zykta, Rolon dragging his weighted chain as if it were too heavy for him.

"We must bury the dead," Sunbright muttered. But tradition was thwarted, for there was little dirt.

"We'll do something-"

"No, we get out," Knucklebones interrupted. She reached into a wall niche and withdrew stout sacks with straps, proceeded to fill them with food and small purses of coins. "More patrols might come any minute. Children, fetch what you can. We'll not return."

Sunbright stared, disbelieving, as even tiny Corah left her dead father and dug in the bed they'd shared. Circling the corpses, he grabbed Knucklebones's arm. She whirled with a hiss like a cat's as he demanded, "No funeral? Not even a minute to mourn? That's d.a.m.ned hardhearted-"

The woman's one eye blazed as she wrenched free and spat, "Better hardhearted than dead, country mouse! Hard hearts kept us alive, until you got here!"

The words stung, and Sunbright drew back. Miraculously, he was the only one not ready to go, for the mute children had gathered meager possessions and withdrawn through the door. Knucklebones stumped under the weight of a single sack, turned and p.r.o.nounced, "Wisht!" The room went black, leaving Sunbright in darkness.

Tramping over the dead, he jogged to follow the tiny entourage. Corah, very small, called, "Where do we go?"

"To another stronghold," replied Knucklebones over her shoulder. "I've scouted it-"

This time Sunbright interrupted, "No."

The one-eyed woman glared, but he continued, "We're not going to hide in these tunnels any longer. We're going where people belong. Down to the ground. To freedom."

Chapter 12.

A hand clamped over Candlemas's mouth, jolting him from a sound sleep, terrifying him. The huge hand pinned his head, rendering him powerless as a child. As he blearily fought for breath and vision, he saw that there were several people hovering around the big canopied bed. Were these a.s.sa.s.sins?

"Can you remain quiet?"

The voice and barbarous northern accent were familiar, and Candlemas nodded. His heart continued to race, though, as if it would never slow down.

Dragging himself upright, he saw it was indeed Sunbright. With him were a scruffy, short, one- eyed woman with an elven cast to her, and four filthy children dressed in rags and carrying satchels.

Questions overrode indignation, though Candlemas pulled the blanket around his ample middle. He slept naked, while these intruders were villainously clothed and armed.

"Where have you been?" the pudgy mage whispered.

"Adventuring." Sunbright talked in a whisper as well. He sat on the edge of the bed and it creaked under his weight. The elvish thief stroked the bedposts and made glowing stripes that cast a wan light.

"I see you've been treated well," the barbarian said, "Can you have food fetched? The children are hungry."

"What?"

Candlemas rubbed his eyes. He noticed that Sunbright had a few new, livid scars and wounds wrapped in dirty bandages, but was otherwise the same.

"Who are these people?" he asked, "How did you get in here? What have you been up to? How have you managed to survive in this city without any money or contacts?"

Sunbright answered with a snort, then, "Get some food and we'll tell you. It's an interesting story.

And I'm hungry too."

Grumbling, Candlemas tugged on a robe and rang a bell. While the visitors hid, he ordered a night maid to fetch a platter, enough to last him all day if necessary. She left without a word, returned shortly with a silver platter heaped with loaves of bread, cheese, wine, fruits, cold sausage, raw vegetables and sauces, even delicate jam tarts.

Sunbright and the rest came out of hiding, the children gazing wide-eyed at the food. When told to dig in, they ate like wolves. Sunbright stuffed cold roast into a hollowed loaf and tore off chunks with strong white teeth.

Candlemas took mulled wine, sat in a wing chair, and said, "Now will you tell me what you've been up to?"

Sunbright told him, leaving out nothing. The list of dead guards made the mage shake his head.

When the barbarian had finished, Candlemas related some of his work, marveling at the contrast between them. Sunbright battled spidery trackers and killer guards in the sewers while Candlemas perched in luxury and explored esoteric magic. It was hard to believe they spoke of the same city.

Candlemas didn't mention Aquesita.

The northerner nodded at Candlemas's observations, as if they confirmed his own suspicions. He picked up a bottle and smashed the neck against the table edge, for he didn't recognize the enchanted corkscrew next to it. "So this Karsus is the wild-eyed nit who pitched me out into the street? And he just builds magical things and destroys friend and foe alike, and no one stops him?"

"It's even more insane than that," Candlemas sighed. "Karsus has no friends, only slithering toadies who s...o...b..r after him like idiot dogs. I suppose he has foes-other mages or archwizards-but they're nothing compared to him. Karsus has whole teams of mages dusting off war machines and enervating them with this new magic. He's like a boy in a sandbox, building tiny cities and stamping on them.

And there is no one to stop him. All the archwizards in the city bow to Karsus. He owns whole tracts of the city anyway. He built it. And no one dares speak out for fear of a.s.sa.s.sination. You remember Lady Polaris?"

"The white-haired woman who got us out of h.e.l.l?"

Sunbright didn't see Knucklebones's one eye go wide.

"Aye." Candlemas sipped wine. "There's enough of her now for three women. She hides all day in a dark room preening and stuffing herself like a pig. She has no concept of the danger the empire's in, and doesn't care. She's probably representative of all the archwizards."

Sunbright nodded. The children had stuffed themselves until their stomachs were round and their heads drooping. The barbarian ferried them to Candlemas's huge bed. The mage didn't comment on how they dirtied the sheets.

Returning, Sunbright said, "The empire's rotten to the core, and I know, for I've seen the core. I've felt this abuse of nature and magic, and had visions of destruction-whole cities collapsing-so it can't be far off. It emphasizes your words."

Candlemas waved away dreams. Hard facts interested him more, and he had plenty. He found himself echoing Aquesita, defending her position. "It's not all bad, and need not lead to devastation.

Magic can be a force for good, too, don't forget. Tamed, it's the most powerful force in the universe.

It's Karsus who's abusing it. Were he to disappear, the empire could regain its senses and climb to new heights-"

"No." Sunbright cut him off, shaking his head. "All things come to an end. A tree grows tall and strong, crowding out its neighbors, but it always grows too large eventually, and rot sets in, and the core collapses, and a strong wind knocks it down to destruction. Its children may take root, may survive and grow in their own way and in a new direction, but the tree is dead and gone, its body serves as food for the young ones."

"A simplistic view. Something for a shaman to lecture children with," Candlemas snorted. "The empire has much greatness about it, and it's not dead yet."

What would Aquesita think of those words?

"I may be an ignorant barbarian, but I have eyes." Sunbright nodded toward the bed, where pet.i.te snores whistled. "Those children were abandoned by their parents, or orphaned by your empire's guards. A race that feeds on its young won't last more than one generation, let alone forever. And you said yourself no one's opposing Karsus and his cronies."

Candlemas was disturbed by the simple logic. He wondered if Aquesita knew anything of abandoned children. Wondered, too, if she'd ever wanted children of her own? And did he? But he was daydreaming.

"How did you get into the castle?" he asked Sunbright, trying to clear his mind by filling it with a few facts. "It's covered in glyphs at night, and patrolled regularly."

Sunbright nodded to his traveling companion. "This is Knucklebones, another child of your empire, but one it can't kill. She sneaked us in here. Actually, the children had no trouble either. I'm the clumsy one."

"How do you do?" said the mage formally. Knucklebones only nodded. Rising, she left the table and slipped out into the hall. "Where's she going?"

The barbarian raised his palms. "I've no idea. I ask her questions, and sometimes she answers. She's had a hard life."

Haven't we all, thought Candlemas unkindly, saying nothing but, "So what are you about?"

"We're hiding." Sunbright sorted through the food as he spoke, looking for whatever would keep and storing it in a haversack. "I've killed so many of the city guards I suppose I'm an outlaw, though I don't think any have escaped me to report back. Your city's guards are the sc.u.m of the earth. They'd crush a child's skull under their boots and turn it in for a bonus."

"It's not my city," Candlemas corrected. But he thought of Aquesita. It was her city, the good parts anyway.