Agents of Artifice: A Planeswalker Novel (5 page)

“Um, boss?” the one named Errit interjected, his voice uncertain. “You really want us to watch these two? For days? Just two of us?”

“They’ll be tied up.”

“But, uh… Didn’t you tell me they were witches? What if they put a hex on Rin, or turn me into a gobber, or something?”

“Then you’ll have a better chance of attracting women!” Semner growled, though his expression had grown uncertain.

“You’ll have to take us with you, Semner,” Liliana taunted. “All it takes is the right word, even the right look. There’s no way your goons can keep the both of us confined for days.”

“The hell they can’t,” he snarled back, grinning suddenly. Liliana winked at Kallist, who had to struggle not to laugh out loud.

“Gag them,” Semner ordered his men, “and find something to blindfold them. That should keep them from casting or aiming much of anything. And if not…”

Slowly he turned to Liliana, looking her lasciviously up and down. She shuddered, her skin crawling as though he’d actually run his hands across her body. Kallist wished desperately for a knife, or even a piece of broken glass.

“One of them makes even the slightest suspicious move,” Semner told Errit. “Cut something personal and irreplaceable off the other one. That should keep ‘em in line.”

The door swung open and the other returned, a coil of rope slung over one shoulder. He dripped profusely as he crossed the floor, and the sounds through the open doorway suggested that the steady drizzle had become an honest downpour.

“Food?” Errit asked Semner as the man with the rope moved to the chair and began uncoiling his burden. “Water?”

“Eh. We’ll only be three or four days. Won’t kill them to go without food. Water … Just soak the gags every few hours, let them suck the water out of ‘em.”

“And if they have to relieve themselves?” Clearly he was still nervous about the notion of having an unrestrained mage in the room.

Semner just grinned. “It’ll cover the scent of Rhoka’s vomit.”

Shoulders straight and head held high, Liliana strode across the room and sat in the chair herself, rather than allowing herself to be manhandled into it. Even as Errit and the woman—Rin, presumably—began wrapping the ropes around her, her eyes locked on Kallist’s own. Slowly, deliberately, they drifted down to indicate the ropes, and back up. Ever so slightly, he nodded in turn.

Without the slightest hint of sound, Liliana’s lips began to move.

In a matter of moments, she was tied as thoroughly as Kallist himself, Semner had offered them another handful of snide and threatening comments, and the house had slowly emptied out. All that remained, now, were two bound prisoners, two nervous captors, and the sound of the ever-increasing rain.

A little knowledge, or so the saying goes, is a dangerous thing. And that’s what Semner, undisciplined and unstudied as he was in the ways of magic, possessed: a little knowledge. If he’d known just a bit more, paid slightly better attention to the mages with whom he’d worked or the few lessons he’d received, he might’ve known just how quickly simple magics could be worked; might’ve realized how thoroughly he was being played when Liliana intimated that binding and gagging would prove anything more than an inconvenience.

The necromancer had rotted the ropes away to sludge before Semner had even departed the house—a fact concealed by Kallist’s own spell, a minimal
phantasmagoria that made the bindings appear as solid as ever, even shifting and rustling with the captives’ movements. And then they waited, the prisoners fidgeting, Errit nervously pacing the room, Rin digging around in the linens for viable gags and blindfolds. She finally settled on a few strips of bed sheet and the sleeves torn off an old tunic.

Kallist winced as the cloth was shoved in his mouth and draped over his head. Yet even as the room vanished behind off-white linen, he allowed his body to go limp, his mind and his focus to sharpen, as he drew upon the mana of the wells and cisterns beneath the district’s roads. Earlier, hungover and all but drowning in adrenaline, he couldn’t make the spell work. But now, now he cast his sight out from his head; it felt, if anything, even easier than he’d anticipated. The ragged sheet seemed to draw near and then vanish as he surveyed the room from a spot several inches in front of his face. From there he watched and waited for Liliana to make the first move.

The sound of the downpour faded, resuming the gentle background rustle of the night before. The shutters over the windows glowed faintly with the first stirrings of a bashful dawn.

Errit actually uttered a startled squeak when Liliana stood up from her chair, doffed her bonds and removed the makeshift hood and gag with contemptuous ease, offering him her most dazzling, seductive smile.

And that was more than enough distraction for Kallist to stand up and smash the thug over the back of the head with his chair.

The sound didn’t wake Rin, who had gone to sleep away Errit’s first shift. Thanks to the shadowy form that had lurked beneath the bed since the start of Liliana’s chant, run its hideous limbs across the sleeping woman, and vanished once more into the æther, nothing would wake Rin ever again.

“You certainly took your time,” Kallist said as he stepped across the bleeding, supine form, dropping his gag on the fellow’s face, a cheap and contemptuous shroud. “We’ve been free for over an hour.”

“I had to be sure Semner wasn’t coming back, didn’t I?”

“Ah. Smart thinking.”

“And don’t forget it.”

Kallist couldn’t help but smile. He stepped beside the woman he loved—even if he’d also felt, over the past evening, that he could learn to hate her—and reached out to embrace her. His heart fell to his toes when she retreated before him, until he remembered the state of his clothes.

“New pants, I think,” he suggested with a rueful grin.

“I’d surely appreciate it.”

Kallist moved to the bed, stopping long enough to stick a hand through the shutters, collecting a handful of rainwater with which he removed the worst of the blood from his face. “Are you all right?” he asked as he knelt, wincing, to dig through the lower half of the wardrobe. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Only what you saw, Kallist.”

“I’m glad.” He staggered and hopped his way around the room, trying to yank a clean pair of trousers over his legs even as he went about collecting certain vital items. “Who do you think hired Semner? Boricov? The Consortium itself? Or maybe that Kamigawa shaman’s also a walker …”

“Does it matter?” Liliana bent down, wrapping the few remaining strands of solid rope around the splayed limbs of the unconscious thug. “If we sat here listing everyone who might want Jace dead, he’d die of old age before we finished, and save them the trouble.”

“It matters,” Kallist said, teetering into the center of the room with an armload of traveling supplies, his
scabbarded broadsword protruding from the heap. “It’s going to impact how we run.”

“Run?”

“If it’s just the ratfolk looking for a bit of payback, there’s no reason to think you and I are in any further danger. But if the Infinite Consortium’s hunting us again, we’ve got to put at least a few hundred leagues between us and our next home. One of the larger districts, do you think? Glahia, maybe? Not Favarial, for obvious reasons. Or maybe we could—”

“Kallist,” Liliana said softly, laying a gentle hand across his arm, though he had no memory of her crossing the room, “hush.”

He hushed.

“We can’t run,” she told him seriously.

“I’ve got a pack of supplies and two fairly sturdy feet that say we can, actually. Why—”

“We have to warn Jace.”

Kallist’s armload fell to the floor, the hilt of the sword landing hard enough on his foot that, had he not already put his boots back on, he might well have broken something.

“Semner must have hit me harder than I thought,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“I’m hallucinating. I actually imagined I heard you say we should go warn Jace.”

“Well, that’s a mighty convenient hallucination, then, since I
did
say we should go warn Jace. But at least I won’t have to repeat myself.”

“You’re insane. There’s no way—”

“Someone’s got to, Kallist.”

“Liliana, Jace doesn’t want to see us.”

“And we don’t want to see him,” she agreed.

“Precisely. Why ruin such a mutually satisfying arrangement?”

“Kallist …”

“He’s never forgiven you, Liliana. And he’s
certainly
never going to forgive
me.”

“And that, of course, is as good a reason as any to sentence the man to death.”

“He ruined my life!”

“Because he was trying to save it.”

A long pause, as Kallist glared at her—and then his shoulders drooped, the breath hissing through his teeth as it escaped. “Damn it.”

“Yeah.”

Kallist slid down the wall to sit, arms on knees, beside the window. Liliana crouched next to him, two fingers running idly through his hair.

“When did we start worrying about the ‘right thing?’” he asked hopelessly.

“I think about the time it started to involve someone who saved your life half a dozen times.”

A final deep sigh deflated Kallist from the waist on up, but finally he nodded. “All right,” he said. And again, “All right. Semner’s got over an hour’s head start. But it’s pretty easy to get turned around in the streets and tunnels between here and Favarial. Even if not, if I hurry, I may still get there soon enough to find Jace before he does, assuming the bastard’s even still in the district.”

“By which, of course, you mean ‘we,’” Liliana corrected, just the slightest coating of frost on her voice.

“Ah …” Kallist hedged, realizing just how deep was the mire he was about to step in, “no, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Yes it is. You just haven’t had that fact explained to you yet.”

“Liliana,” he said, pulling his head from beneath her hand and standing straight once more, “You shouldn’t come.”

She rose, smoothly, swiftly, until her feet were inches from the floor, her body surrounded by a flickering
aura of black mist, the arcane symbols once more inked across her back and neck. She hovered, higher, until she had to look down to meet Kallist’s gaze.

Even knowing that she wasn’t about to hurt him, he couldn’t help but shiver at the blood-chilling, vampiric cold emanating from the necromancer. From within the midnight-tinted aura, he swore he heard the whispers and moans of a score of souls.

Yet her tone, when she spoke, was calm, collected. She was, Kallist realized with something akin to awe, simply making a point, not trying to intimidate him.

“Do you really think,” she asked him, “that waiting here in Avaric, to find out if you’ve succeeded, is the best use of my abilities? Do you really think you can convince me that it’s a trip you can make, but that it’s somehow too dangerous for me?”

It had, of course, nothing whatsoever to do with danger. Kallist just wasn’t remotely certain he could stand spending three or four straight days with Liliana, so soon after the crushing conversation of the previous evening.

Kallist, not being a complete idiot, knew better than to say so. “Yes. I think it’s too dangerous to risk both of us.”

Liliana laughed and sank until her feet once more touched the wooden planks, allowing the necromantic aura to fade. “So it’s safer for one of us than both? I thought I was supposed to be the illogical one.”

“Liliana—”

“Besides,” she said lightly, flicking the tip of his nose with a finger, “you’d be bored without me.”

Kallist knew when he was beat. It seemed to be happening a lot lately.

“Fine,” he grumbled with ill grace. “Start packing up what you need. I’ve got one last thing to take care of.”

The humor instantly fell from Liliana’s face. “Would you rather I do it?” she asked gently.

“Not even a little bit.”

Kallist hefted his broadsword from the pile, allowing the scabbard to slide from the blade. Mechanically, he turned and strode across the room to stand above Errit.

The bound thug, who’d regained consciousness at some point during their discussion, began to thrash. “Wait! Wait a minute!”

“Why?” Kallist’s voice was as mechanical as his movements.

“I—there’s no reason! Look, I’m no threat to you! I could even help you! I—”

“Should have asked Semner exactly who it was you were dealing with.” Kallist brought the heavy blade down with a crash. Then, without a word, he turned away to wash the weapon clean, leaving the body to drain itself dry into the crevice he’d cleaved through the floorboards beneath it.

K
allist glowered about as though hoping to cow the rain into submission. The rain petulantly refused to be intimidated, however, and he had to settle for running his fingers over his face, flinging another handful of water to the sodden earth.

“At least it keeps the worst of the stench and the mosquitoes out of the air,” Liliana told him, her voice cheerful enough that it made Kallist very seriously consider hitting her over the head with the first loose brick he could find.

He glared at her instead. “Maybe if you’d take one of these packs for me, I’d be a tad less miserable.”