In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (63 page)

It was worse than a slap in the face.  “I see.”

Xaro sighed.  “Very well.  You said they did not see you?  Perhaps it would be better if you did take that trip down to Urthrax, to try and thwart their efforts.  Maybe you can pick off the team one-by-one to ensure they never reach the Tower of Dariez.”

Veronica swallowed.  “Master…the trip has already left.  My attempt at Strongiron did not delay their departure.”

“How do you know?  Are you still in the castle?”

“No, I am on the outskirts, in a tavern.  I…heard last night in the common room.  There were some soldiers…grumbling.” 
This will not go over well.

“Soldiers grumbling?  Over what?  What do they care if their Queen goes hunting for True Clerics across the sea?  What did you hear, Veronica?”  Xaro narrowed his eyes.

She sighed.  “They said…that she sent Strongiron with them.  The soldiers were grumbling because their General was sent away on a mission to the South.  A new man is in charge…I didn’t catch his name.”

Xaro slowly closed his eyes and put his hands over his face.  “You could have been on that boat…with any number of opportunities.  Argh!” he moaned.

“I know.  We should not have changed my plans.  Master, I swear I will make this up to you.  But perhaps there is another opportunity.  Allow me to eliminate the Queen for you, Master.  If she dies, Elvidor will plunge into chaos!  We—”

“Elvidor will rally around their martyred Queen.  I have considered this, Veronica.  Even if I trusted you to do this—which I do
not
—I do not weigh the rewards as outweighing the risks.  She is a figurehead; Strongiron is the key.  No, there is enough chaos in Elvidor as is; I do not need to galvanize the east and west over a common cause.”

“Then let us attack, Master!  I am already close, and with the General gone
—”

Xaro was clenching his fists in frustration and cut her off.  “We are not ready to attack.  Are you serious?  My cleric floats here across the vast ocean.  My men need to be properly trained in the pits that I have built, which stand on the other side of the Ajax Mountains from where we sit right now.  My army needs to learn how to go into battle with the undead next to them if we are to have a coordinated attack.  And we need boats innumerable.  We also need more mages, more
thieves, and I daresay, more assassins.  But mostly we need
gold
to address all these needs.  You silly girl.  Go to Gaust.  Meet up with Trevor and Marik.  Perhaps your talents will help recover my ring.  Do not contact me again until you have my ring and are bound for Sands End
.
”  He looked up one last time.  “I am utterly disappointed in this contract thus far.”  And then he was gone.

Veronica stared at the empty space that was his image a moment ago, and she made herself a vow: 
If it is this ring he wants, than I shall find this ring.  And
I
will be the one to deliver it to him.  Xaro will not stay disappointed in me for long.

~Tarsh~

Walking
back to his barracks from a visit with Horace Packard, Tarsh felt the cold rip through his cloak as snow swirled around him.  This winter was miserable, and he hoped to trade a bit of magic for some food for Nugget and himself.  A blizzard had enveloped Brigg, making the walk slow.  Luckily, his housing was not far away.  Hopefully Nugget had a roaring fire going by now.  Walking quickly alone in the dark through the snow, he found his mind wandering, as it often did when he was disgusted with his situation.  Hungry, denied access to the Staircase, he felt trapped in Brigg and could not rid himself of that last conversation he’d had with the beautiful illusionist before she left…

***

“It makes no sense, Kari.  I can protect you every bit as well as that nosy tracker and a hundred times better than our village Elder.  Near as I can tell—”

“
Who says I’ll need protection?”  Kari blurted.  “I
am
a year older, after all.”  She did not want it to sound as harsh as it did.  But it was true:  she had had more training, passed more tests, and was a bit more accomplished.  She looked a little insulted.

Tarsh sat quietly, ignoring her question.  “Kari, I should be going with you.” 
I need to go with you.
He reached for her hands.

Kari allowed him to hold
them for a moment before gently pulling away.  “I would love to have you come along, Tarsh, you know that.  But as I’ve said—it’s not my money.  We need Elder Phillip’s gold to travel to Rookwood.  I’m lucky he allowed Rebecca to go.”

“Then why her and not me?  What good is a rabbit hunter on board
a ship!?”
Tarsh said, raising his voice.  “In fact, I’m going to talk to Phillip tonight.”

“No.”

“Why not?  I thought we were…building toward something.”  Tarsh thought about reaching for her hands again, but stopped short.  “I still don’t understand why you’re leaving in the first place.” 
That’s not quite true.  I know why you’re leaving…I just don’t understand why you’re leaving without
me
.

“Tarsh…” Kari began.  “I
already told you—what I heard and saw in my prophecy compels me to meet our Queen.  And Rebecca will be helpful with…with Phillip.  He is not someone we fully trust.  She is far more talented than you give her credit for, and far more resourceful than I gave her credit for.”

Tarsh felt hi
s face growing red as he tried to keep his anger in check.  He was a patient man—it was one of his gifts.  But his frustration with this entire conversation had reached a pinnacle.  He looked Kari square in those dazzling green eyes that so captivated him.

“Stay,” he said.

Kari just looked at Tarsh strangely, as if she was thinking about something completely different.  “What did you say?”

“I said stay, Kari.  Wait.  We’ll find a way to get to Rookwood together.”

Kari had that far-away look in her eyes for a moment longer before focusing on his words.

“
No, Tarsh.  I’m sure we’ll see each other again, but this is goodbye for now.  I
must
do this.  I
need
to do this.  I
want
to do this.   But I will return when I can.”  No hug, no kiss.  She smiled as she squeezed his hand gently, before leaving him to prepare for her long voyage…

***

That conversation had been months ago, when the chill in the air was just starting, and yet he still pictured her silhouette walking out the same door that he now entered.  He pulled the door shut behind him and saw Nugget fast asleep in a chair by the fire, slumped over awkwardly.  Marik sat next to him.

“Hello, Tarsh.  Pardon my intrusion, but there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

~Magi~

It only seemed like several years since Magi had last set foot in Gaust.  In many ways, the city was a turning point in his life; he had seen death up close and personal for the first time on that trip, losing his companions Lionel, the clever Ranger, and Sindar, the burly Warrior.  Kyle and he had been forced to fend for themselves.  He had become a thief that day, and felt the anxiety of one who was being chased—hunted.  It was his first mission…and it was successful.  He had found the precious scroll for his “master.”  And he was clever enough to make a copy of it for himself before handing it over.

Perhaps I should try and use it on myself?
  He put the thought out of his head.  He didn’t feel sick, he didn’t feel changed.  Oh, he suspected Marik had used the scroll on him—he knew, intellectually, that his memories didn’t line up with his current personality.  But it was his past that seemed out of character, not the present.  Nothing wrong with him. 
Just a Dark Mage trying to make his way in a Dark World by whatever means that present themselves. 
The world gave him nothing that he couldn’t take for himself, and if he couldn’t take it, that was on him.

No, best to save it…surely there is a better use.  Perhaps Kari…

He smiled to himself at the thought of what Kari could be like if she saw the world the way he now saw it—saw it properly, in all its darkness.  Perhaps she would understand why her brother had been in the way…

A momentary uneasiness turned his stomach, ever so briefly, and he refocused on his task at hand.  Climbing the massive steps to the Great Library, heavily cloaked for the chill of winter, he walked casually past the columns.  An acolyte approached him.  “Sir, come, warm yourself.  May I help you find something?”

“I’m looking for Master Wyzle, Thomas.”  Magi kept his hood up, but tried to sound cheerful.

“I see.  You have me at a disadvantage
—have we met before?”  Thomas asked with a forced politeness.

“I’m sure we have somewhere along the line.  Would you take me to see your Master?”  Magi began to walk slowly toward the Keeper’s office.

Thomas hastily scurried in front of Magi, cutting him off.   “Yes, of course.  What name should I announce?”

Magi pulled back his hood, revealing the off-putting whiteness of his eyes.  “Tell him Magi Blacksmooth would like a quiet, brief word with him.”  Though
it had been less than a year since when they last met, Magi had grown accustomed to issuing orders in a commanding tone over the last several months.  He expected Thomas to obey.

Thomas shuffled backwards, wordlessly.  He did not take his eyes off the True Mage, but felt behind him
self to avoid tables and bookshelves until he reached the door.  He said simply, “This way,” and he disappeared through the door.  Magi followed silently, smiling pleasantly.  He knew the way to the back room where Lionel was killed.

In a few short steps, with Thomas mostly tripping over himself trying to avoid turning his back on the mage, he unbolted the door and announced, with no fanfare, “Master Wyzle
—a guest for you.  Magi Blacksmooth.  Good evening.”

He started to depart, but Wyzle stood up quickly and said, “Not even Lord Corovant would have guessed that we should have a young mage visiting us.”  He smiled awkwardly at his helper, and nodded him away.

Magi was left to stare at the Keeper of the Books across the room.   In his mind’s eye, he could still see the body of his friend slumping over, blood quickly pooling everywhere.  But the marble floor looked as white and pristine as ever.

Wyzle looked over at Magi.  His expression
changed when he saw Magi’s eyes.  Most men’s did.  “H-how can I help you, Magi?”

The True Mage grabbed a seat uncomfortably close to Wyzle.  “Do you remember me?”  It was an innocent enough question.

The Keeper stared at the young man, and nodded slowly.  “Yes, it would be hard to forget you.”

Magi threw Marik’s book of
Ancient Spells
at him.  “How did my former master learn that the scroll of Tralatus was here?  He knew it was in the Great Library in Gaust, and he sent me and my friends here to find it.”

The Keeper beg
an to sweat.  The True Mage was apparently making him exceedingly nervous.  “I have no idea,” he lied, smiling what he hoped was an inconspicuous grin.  “Don’t you mages have ways of finding things?”

“We do.”  Magi
replied, “Especially the truth.”  Magi allowed the familiar rush of magic to course through him as he cast the same spell he had used on Ragor’s feet. Out of nowhere, a wicked blade hovered in the air.  Quick as a snake, Magi grasped Wyzle’s arm and stretched it out, pushing his head face down on the desk with his arm extended.  The sword began to twirl menacingly and slowly descended near Wyzle’s shoulder bone.

“NO!  I told him.  It was me.  Please
—not my arm!  Please, please.  Mercy!”  The fat Keeper of the books blubbered.

Magi continued press
ing the man against the tabletop, controlling the sword magically.  It was an inch above the man’s upper arm.  “Where did you get it?”

Wyzle struggled to raise himself up, but he could not break Magi’s iron grasp.  He was
sooo
strong.  Unusual for a mage.  “It was a farmer.  Please—I will tell you the story.  Let me up!”

Magi did not let him up.  “Talk quickly.”

Wyzle began to whimper.  “I-it was a farmer.  He brought me the scroll.  He was plowing…plowing new land because the soil was so poor, the crops so meager.  He began planting over a g-graveyard.  He came across a simple grave, one of hundreds.  But the box of bones had a smaller box inside it.  The b-box you saw when you came here last.  He could not read the markings, so he brought it to the Library, and when I saw them and interpreted them, I knew what they were.  I informed Marik—I figured a True Mage would have interest in such an artifact, and I was right.  I knew Marik would pay g-good gold to see it, and I was right about that, too.  The mages who work for Lord Corovant would just take it from the Library.  Eventually Marik sent you and your group to copy it.  Little did I know…or he know…that you would
steal it! 
You’re h-hurting me…my arm!
”