Darkvision (7 page)

Ususi stood before the annulus. Inscriptions crowded the stone circle, many unreadable. One symbol was clear immediately—a ring within a ring, the interior circle slightly off center—one of the symbols associated with the Celestial Nadir!

The wizard drew the keystone from beneath her jacket. She held it forth, presenting it to the annulus. As Ususi handled it, the stone flickered and brightened, giving off a glow all its own. Ususi paused. Again, she noticed the hazed darkness at the stone’s core. She shook her head slightly, deciding to worry about that later.

Ususi let her mind touch the stone, and through its interface, sought contact with the ring. She sought referents, points of synchronicity, answering reflections—even the smallest connection would be enough for her to try to gain control of the ring and force it open. Assuming it led to the Celestial Nadir. And if it was not broken beyond repair.

But no. “Four dooms and damnation!” she yelled. The annulus was dead. If it had ever been a portal, its functions were stripped. Only residual magic elevated it above the floor.

A sudden thud shook her from her anger.

Ususi whirled and stared. The light of her delver’s orb sent feral shadows fleeing across the chamber. The sound had come from somewhere back along the way she’d traveled. She’d either missed a guardian, and it had roused from agelong quiescence to chase her down, or something or someone else had entered the buried outpost from the exterior. The wizard cursed herself for not securing the entry.

Either way …

Ususi touched the orb that hovered at her brow and its light died. The radiance of the keystone trickled away, too, as she hung it around her neck, under her jacket. The wizard didn’t need light to trace her steps back over her course. She closed her eyes in the darkness and invoked a spell of clairvoyant vision. Beginning with the hallway where the two ancient emperors locked eyes for lost ages, Ususi’s wizard sight bloomed, a window of seeing. Through her dark window, everything was blurred and colorless. Details faded and distances were hard to discern.

She traced her path, pushing her vision down the inscribed hall and into the square room with the pool of iridescent liquid—water with an enchantment against evaporation. The chamber was as empty as she’d left it.

Farther yet, beyond the pool room, she found a bright red band of warning dye painted at neck height along the narrow passage.

Something moved down that passage.

It was … what was it? Identification was difficult because the image was blurred—it degraded the farther she forced it along.

Whatever it was, it kept low, beneath the warning red stripe she’d placed on the wall. The figure used Ususi’s system to its own benefit! She realized she’d marked a trail leading directly to her location.

The wizard tensed but concentrated all her faculties on sharpening the clairvoyant image. A human? A man, definitely, but his skin was pale and marbled, not unlike her own. His outfit was familiar.

Ususi let out an involuntary hiss and abandoned the vision.

A vengeance taker.

After all this time, Deep Imaskar had finally tracked her down.

Ususi brushed her orb and light flooded the chamber. The vengeance taker was too close—he would see it! But her wizard vision was too slow and unreliable in an emergency. She had to see in order to escape.

“Get up those stairs,” she whispered to the uskura. Ususi pointed to the other exit in the chamber. She dashed after her retreating pack. How had they tracked her into this ruin? They must have been looking for her for a long, long time.

Ususi reached the archway and had one foot on the lowest step.

“Hold, fugitive!” The voice was strong and authoritative. It was the voice of a vengeance taker. It was a voice accustomed to its commands being followed, and for good reason.

Ususi darted up the narrow stairwell. The steps were high, shallow, and dusty. She gasped for breath, but the air seemed to have fled the stairway. She slipped and fell on the steps, catching herself with one hand but taking half her weight on the other shoulder. A cry of pain escaped her lips, like a sob. Her mind twirled, images of vengeance takers she had known and stories she had heard of their retribution causing tumult in her mind. She was panicking!

This was not her. Ususi Manaallin did not panic.

Ususi grasped the edges of her fear, wrenched it into halves, and cast its husks aside.

She was a wizard, trained by the Cabal of Purple. A single taker would not bring her down, she vowed. She scrambled to her feet and turned to face down the staircase. Better to confront your enemies than to suffer their attacks at your back, she knew. She counted herself lucky his attack hadn’t already sprung.

Then she heard a strange, reverberating pulse. It was a sound like—yet unlike—the noise of some of her own spells when she cast them—a hum like a rushing torrent heard in the rainy season, mixed with the high-pitched harmony of forlorn, tolling bells. The noise halted as instantly as it had begun, leaving behind silence, the smell of ozone, and a glow of glittering, white reflections that patted at the bottom of the stairs.

The vengeance taker must be casting preparatory spells, readying his advance, she thought. Takers were moderate-ability sorcerers, after all—magic was part of the deadly training they received.

Yet it was no spell she recognized.

“Fugitive … Manaallin!” It was the voice of her pursuer. Yet his tone had shifted slightly. Ususi maintained her silence, waiting for the attack. Her hands were poised to release a torrent of destructive curses.

“Ususi Manaallin—if you can hear me, I pray you pause. I haven’t come so far to lose you now.” The voice sounded strained, and its authoritative blare was dulled—by what? Ususi couldn’t tell.

He was crafty enough not to poke his head through the arch and look up the stairs—he must have sensed Ususi’s spells ready to strip his flesh and worse. So instead, he seemed to be trying to draw her into the arms of his attack.

Ususi yelled down the corridor. “It’s a standoff, Vengeance Taker! I will not walk into your trap, and if you follow me up these stairs, it’ll be the last act you ever take!”

A chuckle answered her threat. The voice said, “Will you pretend you did not leave this painful blaze to catch me?” Another chuckle, somehow self-deprecating.

Ususi didn’t have the first clue what the taker was talking about.

“Explain,” she said.

“Your ploy succeeded—you were clever in identifying every dormant trap in this molding ruin with your red dye—but even cleverer in failing to mark the very last one.”

Ususi recalled running low on dye when she entered the hallway of the two emperors.

The wizard cocked her head, wondering. Could it be? Ususi carefully descended twelve or so steps to reach the arch that connected into the room of the annulus.

The inscribed hallway was a blaze of white, syrupy light. Floating in its midst, like a fish in a bowl, was the vengeance taker. His arms struggled to reach a purchase they were not long enough to find, and his legs kicked ineffectually, failing to propel him in any direction at all. The vengeance taker was caught.

Ususi nearly turned and dashed back up the stairs. Now was the time to make good her escape, before the man figured out how to free himself. If he could do so. Or, she could strike him while he was helpless.

But how often would the opportunity to question a vengeance taker present itself? It couldn’t hurt to discover how angry Deep Imaskar was with her for weakening the Great Seal enough so she could take her leave. Or why they’d waited so many years to send someone after her.

Better to ask the vengeance taker. Ususi pasted a conciliatory smile on her face and approached the ensconced agent of those who wished her harm.

“There are questions I’d like to ask you, Vengeance Taker.”

Warian Datharathi disembarked from the sleek watercraft in the city of Vaelan.

The dissolute son returns, he mused. He turned and watched the small crew as they opened the hold of the courier ship. First out was his horse, Majeed. Despite being on the outs with his family, being a Datharathi had its benefits anywhere Trade Authority offices or embassies operated. As one of the eleven most influential families in Durpar, Datharathi Minerals was partly responsible for paying Trade Authority upkeep. On the other hand, members of the Datharathi family enjoyed free passage on Trade Authority couriers.

Previously known as Vaelantar, and like its sister cities of Ompre and Assur, the city was overrun by monsters flooding out of the Curna Mountains. But Durpar finally expelled the invaders in 1096 DR. In the three hundred years since those tumultuous times, the name Vaelantar was shortened to Vaelan. More importantly, Vaelan grew into the crown jewel of Durpar’s trading empire, and enjoyed status as one of the most preeminent destinations on the Golden Water, or indeed, in all the Shining Lands.

The Dolphin Pier was one of nine piers exclusively reserved for merchant traffic. Of course, many smaller and larger piers filled the coast in either direction: the private piers reserved for the personal yachts of the very wealthy, as well as piers set aside for the highly profitable ship-building businesses. Datharathi Minerals had, like many of the most influential merchant families, maintained interest in the ship-building trade.

Beyond those were the ramshackle piers used by the fishers.

Warian walked down the Dolphin Pier holding Majeed’s reins. Beyond a press of warehouses, innumerable offices, and nearly as many wharfside taverns, the towers of Vaelan pointed proudly at the sky. The towers housed the most influential “chakas,” as trading families were sometimes called. Any family with aspirations to challenge the predominance of the eleven greatest chakas that made up the Trade Authority first built a tower—or purchased the tower of another family whose fortunes were declining. Over a hundred pale towers pushed into the sky, some new since Warian had left the city behind.

Chaka towers were generally confined to the Gold District, and enjoyed the protection of delicate-looking yet strong whitewashed stone walls. Beyond the ordered towers and their well-patrolled boundaries, the larger bulk of Vaelan hummed and buzzed, nearly as loud and well-lit at midnight as at midday.

Aside from the towers, distinguishing discrete buildings amid the mass was a fool’s game in Vaelan. Great connected complexes of white-plastered walls, balconies, stairs, galleries, promenades, and open courts stretched in all directions. Wide streets separated one press of mazelike architecture from the next, but high bridges, held up as much by minor enchantments as engineering, arched over the streets to connect rooftop bazaars.

And the crowd! Everywhere Warian looked, people talked (in diverse dialects and languages), bartered (from countless windows, booths, wagons, and permanent storefronts), sought hard-to-find goods (such as philters guaranteed to bring the buyer true love, or cockroaches whose shells turned blue in the presence of magic), gossiped (about the future of Durpar if Veldorn’s aggression wasn’t checked), and enjoyed themselves (drinking from great glass vessels filled with weak but tasty beer—consumed nearly as fast as it was brewed).

Warian was one of thousands of people thronging the streets, pushing his way forward as quickly and economically as possible. The trick of moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd came back to him with hardly any effort. He was elbowed in the side once, but ignoring such slights was part of getting where you wanted to go in a reasonable amount of time. He quickly found a public stable on the outskirts of the wharf district and paid a small sum to put Majeed up for several days. He hoped he wouldn’t be around that long, but better to pay ahead than risk the stablemaster selling his horse.

Freed of worry about Majeed’s well-being, Warian waved over a rickshaw pulled by a surprisingly short man with hair as red as fire.

“Where to?” asked the redhead, as Warian settled into the seat.

“West Gardens,” Warian told the rickshaw driver. “It’s a tenement district near Kazrim’s Plunge.” The Plunge was a statue commemorating a Kazrim, whose heroics three hundred years prior were considered instrumental in freeing Vaelantar from the monsters.

The driver nodded at Warian and pulled the transport out into the throng. Warian was a little surprised that the driver did not give his crystalline arm a second glance. He was accustomed, at the very least, to eyebrows raised in surprise, if not outright amazement, and often enough, hostility.

Whoever had ridden the rickshaw before had left behind the redolent perfume of cherry tobacco. Smoking tobacco from a water-cooled pipe was a vice Warian tried to cultivate when he still lived in Vaelan—his family had a long-standing taboo against smoking for some traditional reason, and he’d wanted to prove his independence—but he’d never managed to enjoy the sensation. Probably just as well.

Moving through Vaelan’s busy streets was enjoyable when someone else’s worry and effort forged the path. Sitting back in his seat allowed Warian a chance to absorb the ambience and study the various city dwellers and visitors who strode to and fro, each intent on his own unknowable business. Many were from outside Durpar, having traveled from countries like the Shaar, Dambrath, or Halruaa. Others hailed from even farther shores, such as the nearly mythical Sembia or Cormyr. Warian had never personally met anyone from places so distant, but he’d heard stories.

The sharp, glinting light of sun through crystal caught Warian’s eye. A woman walking out of a stylish saloon on the high balcony to his left carried a prism … no…

The woman’s hand was clear, as if made of glass! More than that, delicate traceries of crystal writhed across her whole arm, and marked her face, too, with an elaborate embroidery. Warian gaped. As he pulled closer, there was no doubt—the woman sported a crystal prosthesis, and then some, just as he did!

Her body art reminded Warian of an intricate tattoo, but never had he seen one laid down in glass. He didn’t doubt the glass of her prosthesis and decoration was Datharathi crystal.