In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (58 page)

~Veronica~

As Simon roared and the Queen issued her proclamation, Veronica sensed an opportunity. 
Option #3?  It is an open contract, non-exclusive, but still…five thousand gold crowns!  A ridiculously lucrative bounty. 
As for Strongiron…she couldn’t kill someone she couldn’t find, and the General was nowhere to be found.  The poison dart with his name on it was tucked securely in her sleeve, just waiting for a glimpse of the man. 
Fine morning he picked to not show up in court.

But
perhaps
this solved her dilemma.  Finding this Magi might be the only way to avoid getting sent to another continent without blowing her cover. 
Now or never.

She
climbed onto a table, and with a shrill whistle brought the commotion to a halt.  Even Jonathon looked up at her, somewhat impressed with her ability to command the attention of the Hall.  She raised her voice loud enough for all to hear.  “My Queen, I, too, believe in Fate.  I was here to witness this for a reason.  My Queen—I beseech you—let me track this animal down.  I have travelled the length and breadth of Elvidor, and I can find this man because I can find this Marik.  My path has crossed his, and I know where he is headed.  Soon Magi will, too, with the power that he wields.  Let me find this man for you and bring him to justice or justice to him in the name of the Queen!  Only then will my mind be at peace enough to be of any service to Dymetra.  Please, your Majesty.  Let your excursion continue to Urthrax, but let my path first intercept the “real” rogue mage—this Magi Blacksmooth.  No one here but me can cross under the mountains.  He may teleport, but I will not be far behind.”

The
Queen looked at Veronica and narrowed her eyes, angrily waving her hand in a dismissive fashion.  “You seem awfully quick to abandon a path toward God to become a bounty hunter, but I do not care.  Do as you will.”  Veronica locked eyes with the Queen, bowed slowly, and stepped off the table, turning to leave.

The Queen looked at Jonathon and pointed at Kyle’s body.  “Yes, my Queen,”
he said as he began to attend to a devastated Kari and the corpse of her brother.

Finally, the Queen spoke.  “Council in my chambers
, within the hour.  Alert Peter and Strongiron.”

Veronica’s ears perked up as she turned to leave. 
A council meeting in the Queen’s chambers within the hour...Alert Peter and Strongiron. 
She nodded politely to one of the guards that Simon dispatched to go track down the rest of the Queen’s council.  Soon others began leaving, and Veronica began making her way through the castle as well.

She wasn’t leaving, however.  She was going hunting here in Rookwood
— one last time. 
Back to Option 2.

The wide hallway that led to the Queen’s chamber had sentries posted on either side of the large double doors.  There was no place to hide there.  But one of the former Kings of Rookwood wanted balconies built on either side of this long hallway so servants could throw roses down the long path that led to the Royal Chamber, presumably whenever the King took a wife.  Veronica had heard that story while at court, and when she asked to see it, she saw that the balconies were empty.  With a little exploring, she found the stairs that led up to the balcony, and they were unused and unguarded.  The sentries on either side of the door could see up there, but if you stood at a tight angle, in the shadows, and were silent…she would have a shot.  A tough one, to be sure, but a shot.  Strongiron would
have
to pass that way to enter the Queen’s chamber, unless there was some other way inside that she didn’t know about.

She carefully positioned herself, looking down at the sentry furthest from her.  It was a very tight angle for a dart, and a miss would ricochet loudly off stone opposite her.  Furthermore, the target would have to be the face or neck—she couldn’t afford to strike armor and have the poison wasted.  An even bigger problem than the angle or the unforgiving stone along the far wall was her escape route out
of the castle.  She would have to move very quickly, and use every form of distraction she had at her disposal.

One poison shot, and
I have to be running as soon as I release it
.  The only thing left to do now…was wait.

~Helmut~

“So, tell me again what this is about.  You said your name was Helmut?”

Lord Corovant was dressed, as was his penchant, in full regal splendor.  Though he wore no crown, as it interfered with his silken, blonde hair, a more stylish man could not be found in all of Gaust.  His palace, across from the Great Library, was also truly spectacular.  Each room seemed to be more ornate than the last.  It was no wonder he rarely left the place.

He
sat on a dais in his Audience Hall, surrounded by guards and other important-looking men who looked, well, important.  The raised platform on which he sat was easily 6 or 8 feet above the petitioners that he allowed to visit for 15 minutes every other morning.  It was therefore not an accident that the Lord of the City of Gaust gazed down at this sailor.

“Aye.  Helmut Bowhistle, first mate of a merchant ship
—ever hear of
The Modest Mermaid?”
he asked uncomfortably.

“No.”

“Ah, no matter, no matter,” Helmut mumbled, then spoke up again.  “You see, my Lord, I’m looking for a man.  Reckon he’d be about this tall.”  Helmut held his hand to the bottom of his neck.  “Actually, he may appear a wee bit taller than that, beggin’ yer pardon.”  He raised his hand about another six inches or so, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“So you are looking for a man of questionable height.  Before you waste more of my time, do get to the point.  Why
should I care what this man has done?  Answer me that
and then
you can come up with something more identifiable than his indeterminate height.  You have six minutes remaining.”  Lord Corovant smoothed the wrinkles from the sleeves of his deep purple, silken tunic.

“Yes, Lord.  To the point.  This man is a thief and a murderer.”  He looked up at the Lord, who decided to pay attention when he said the man was a killer.

“What did he steal, and who did he kill?”

Helmut smiled nervously.  “He, uh, stole a large gem, my Lord.  The most beautiful purple stone you ever did see.  A stone that would match the very tunic you wear, my Lord.  Killed two of my men aboard the
Mermaid
while out to sea, he did.  I thought you should be aware of the man, see’in as you have people to protect and all that.”

Lord Corovant leaned forward.  “Killed your men
while out to sea? 
If you could not catch him aboard a ship at sea, I find it laughable that you want me to spend resources on him now.  What did he do, fly home to land?  You have four minutes left.”

Helmut backed up, smiling again with nerves.  “He is a tricky devil, my Lord.  He escaped in a lifeboat during a storm at night.  We couldn’t find him in the dark, rolling water.  But he left two of my men dead and, like I said, he’s stolen a gem.”

“You have no idea whether he even came to Gaust or perished in the storm, do you?”  Lord Corovant appeared to be quickly losing interest in the conversation.

“Well, I, no.  I do not, my Lord.  But if he is here, he would be easy to spot, my Lord.  Red hair, mismatched eyes.  I would think you would want to have your mages put a sketch together or something.  There would be taxes to be collected if the gem was returned to me, of course.”  Helmut flashed Lord Corovant a smile brimming with crooked teeth and crooked intent.

“Well, of course you’ll pay taxes, assuming the gem is yours to begin with—something I’m not inclined to take at face value.  Regardless, I will have my mages lift his image from your memory and put it to parchment; seems like more and more warrants are being requested daily.  This one was sent to us just this morning from none other than our Queen.”  Lord Corovant pointed to an unraveled scroll that he had posted on a wall near Helmut.  Embedded in the parchment was a magical, shimmering image of a man with long, auburn hair, and white eyes.  “Apparently this mage had the gall to openly commit murder in the midst of her court.  She has sent his image to all the cities and villages in Elvidor, warning us and informing us that this man is to be brought before her by any means necessary, alive or dead.  Have you ever seen this man?”  Lord Corovant was already summoning his steward to take Helmut to see the staff mages that would create the image of the man on the new warrant.

Helmut narrowed his eyes and instinctively put one hand over another—covering up his newfound ring.  “Nay, my Lord.  I have not,” he lied.  “But I thank you for hearin’ me.  We do live in such a Dark World, don’t we?”  He stared at the shimmering face of the mage on the Queen’s warrant before leaving quietly with Lord Corovant’s steward.

~Magi~

There was a small voice, buried deep within Magi, which had wept as he drilled a hole through his best friend’s chest.  Shaking it off, he teleported to where he thought, just maybe, he might find Marik.  This silly quest for a staff would have to wait until he made that man
pay
for lying to him all these years.

It was with great purpose and anticipation that he
arrived in Brigg.

“Magi, is that you?
” Black-John smiled up as he put down his hammer and backed away from the forge to shake Magi’s hand. “Oh, man.  You made it to the top, didn’t you?  Good for you!  Look at them white eyes.  Gonna take me awhile to get used to that.  Saw you teleport back. Always told people that you wouldn’t have no problem.  Seeing some of his other students pass their tests, always figured you’d get through it with your eyes closed, pardon the saying.  So does it change your vision?  Can you still see alright?  How’d Kyle do?  You boys sure were thicker than thieves growing up—”

“Actually, I’m not sure where
he is.” 
Half a lie, I suppose. 
“So, you haven’t seen Marik around, have you?”

“Nah, not since you three left with Venatus
all those months ago.  Everything okay?”  Black-John extended a sweaty, calloused hand to the boy he’d known for years.

Magi paused, then shook it briefly and forced a smile.  “Yes, everything’s fine.  I do need to see if Marik has
returned, however.  If you’ll excuse me—good day.”  He turned and headed to his final destination—Marik’s house.  As soon as he was out of sight, he wove a spell of invisibility, one of the newer spells he had learned from his father’s spellbook.  He felt the rush of power surge through him as he bent light itself to his will.  He disappeared flawlessly; Magi did not want to be spotted by anyone else he knew in his hometown.

Moving silently through the village, he saw both the Packard’s and Gain’s enormous farms.  He saw Lady Goodwin.   He saw Marik’s school, even saw his former roommates, Tarsh and
Nugget, studying.  He thought about cursing Tarsh for his advances on Kari, but was intent on finding Marik, or evidence of where Marik might be.  Serenity was teaching a younger mage a new spell that involved illusions and false images.  He saw familiar faces everywhere, and was thankful for his invisibility.

He finally came upon Marik’s home.  It was locked
—not surprising that a True Mage would lock their homes—though most villagers would laugh at the idea.  A simple word and the familiar sensation of magic seeped out of him.  He could feel the wind on his cheek and sensed a storm approaching.  Across the village, a calf was being born.  An invisible fog—an odorless, colorless mist—began to leave Magi’s palms and spread over the house, through cracks in walls, silently covering the home completely.  Magi was taking no chances; he cast an anti-warding spell to unlock and remove any spells of protection that might still linger over his former Master’s house.  The door silently swung open a crack.

The house was empty, enabling Magi to create a soft glowball for light.  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for
—a map to Marik’s current location would be nice—but he figured he’d know it when he saw it.

It did not take long for Magi to become easily distracted inside his former Master’s house.  Objects, liquids, and books filled the home.  A small, well
-worn book on the shelf caught his attention.  It was entitled
Ancient Spells
, and had a bookmark.  Magi flipped it open and began reading:

Of particular interest is the fabled spell Tralatus.  A spell that few have the strength to cast—only a committed True Mage with real power should even attempt this terrible spell.

Legend has it that it was designed by Quixatalor himself, as he grew impatient with the True God, Dymetra.  Seeing Men, Dwarves, and Elves killing one another, generation after generation, he sought to change the hearts of men.  There are some who say that it was this final act of hubris that ultimately killed him, as Dymetra withheld her favor from him for his disobedience. Having lived many lifetimes already, he quickly grew old and died shortly thereafter without Her blessing of longevity.  Or so the legends say.