In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (72 page)

Magi continued.  “There is a price for thievery in this Dark World, Marik.  Tarsh stole Kari, and you have seen the price he has paid.  Who was the little man that was travelling with you?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Magi.  Look—you are not yourself.  End this madness, and you and I can teleport back to Brigg and discuss what has happened.  I have answers for you.  Be reasonable
—”

“And what did you steal from me
, Marik?” Magi interrupted, raising his voice over the roaring flames, still approaching Marik slowly.  “Shall we tally it up?  Let’s see, one could say you stole my parents, my life, some would even say my soul.  I have your answers.  I’ll ask again:  what price should I exact for your thievery, since we’ve already established the price that friends of Marik shall pay?” he motioned over his shoulder at the pile of Tarsh that could barely be seen through the fire haze.  “What is
reasonable
, Marik Kinshaw?” he repeated, standing in front of his former Master.

“I know why you are the way you are.  I can help you!  Please, Magi!  Listen to me!” screamed Marik.  “It is the Scroll.  Mercy, Magi!  I raised you.  This is not you!”

“
This
,” Magi whispered in his former master’s ear, “is who I am.”  He reached out, once again with electricity on his hands, and he grasped Marik’s cheeks, staring into his eyes.  With his back to the flames, Marik reached up and grabbed each of Magi’s wrists to pull them off his face, but his damaged hands were too weak.  Magi delivered a tiny jolt with the same Electrified Hands spell he had just used.  What he delivered to Marik this time was little more than a static shock.  “See, I have learned restraint.”  Magi smiled, as he slowly allowed more of his own power to flow into the spell.

Slowly the power built, the shock increasing, with Marik shaking and screaming as Magi pressed his hands forcibly into his cheeks.  Magi would not allow him to pass out or collapse, but kept ratcheting up the power.  Tears streamed down Marik’s face, and his hair began to burn from the electricity coursing through him.  The torture lasted less than a minute, but Magi made sure it was the longest minute of his former master’s life.  He sent the final waves of electricity into Marik, focusing on everything this man had stolen from him
.  Releasing him, Marik gave a final cry, more of a whimper, his whole body convulsing.  And then Magi finally let go, allowing his former master to collapse into a smoldering heap, dead.  “Tarsh taught me that spell,” he muttered under his breath.

P
eople, either brave, foolish, or drunk, continued to mill around outside the ring of fire, which Magi finally lowered.  The Mage Guards were largely gone, pulling their fallen comrades aside to try and treat them or recover their bodies.  Many were hovering over Tarsh.  As he expected, Magi then saw several knights approaching, each bearing the insignia of Lord Corovant:  a scale balancing a trident and a war hammer.

And now it is time for the arrogant Lord of this corrupt city to pay for his wrongs.  Judge me, will you, Corovant?  Burn me alive, will you Corovant?  Toss my own ring at my feet, will you Corovant?  I will put a missile through each knight and stroll down your street with lighting in my hands, into your throne room untouched, you wretched
—

He saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye as an arm dropped over his head.   He felt a sharp pain in his throat, and could no longer talk.  Blood began to pour from his neck, and he began to feel light-headed.  Gurgling, he fell to his knees, clutching his throat.  He heard more shouts from the sparse crowd. 
Looking up he saw a tall, pale woman standing over him.  She looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember where he’d seen her as he collapsed into a small pool of his own blood.  She immediately began tugging at his ring, removing it from his hand.

The last thing he saw was the woman racing for the dock, where she dove into the sea as everything else went dark.

~Trevor~

Trevor Blink was not a True Thief for nothing.  When he saw the missiles from Tarsh fizzle against Magi’s defenses, he quickly disappeared into the crowd.  He kept close, kept an eye on the fight, might have even helped if he had an idea how.  But his overarching imperative was simply to live to fight another day.  Marik was right; this kid tracked him down.  They just didn’t leave port fast enough. 
What you get for traipsing all over Elvidor looking for books and friends.

His second imperative, only slightly less important than the first, was to get back that ring.  For the third time now it was within his sight, just out of reach.  Not on the hand of a sailor in a raging storm, and not in the hand of a fanciful Lord who tossed it into executioner’s burning stake.  It was back on the hand of the man he had picked it from a year ago. 
If I nicked it from him once…
He would have to get it now, before he teleported away.  He felt the ground shake from a blow from above that literally seemed to crumple Marik’s friend.  All of a sudden the Mage Guards sought to bind him, but unlike what he saw at the trial, this time they failed. 
No wonder Xaro wants that ring! 
Trevor was no fool; he had picked up enough truth from Marik to basically know what the ring did, and he could see for his own eyes how futile the magical attacks on this mage were. 
Imagine what a ring like that would be worth…Xaro would kill you, fool. 
He put the distraction of the lucrative Black Market out of his mind and tried to focus on how he could get close enough to this lunatic mage in front of him.

All of a sudden a ring of fire sprung up around his target, and Trevor—even quite a ways back—could feel the intense heat.  He heard several Mage Guards scream as the flames engulfed them.  He saw them jump back out of the fire, howling and rolling on the ground. 
How do you rob a ring from a man surrounded by a ring of fire?

Stumped, he watched through the flames as Marik was killed, watched him pitch forward.  He couldn’t hear anything, as people were still crying out in pain, fear, and confusion.  Soon the flaming wall fell. 
Now or never, thief. 
If he wanted that ring, he would have to slide up behind him and try and nick it quick, and then create a massive distraction to get away.

Then he saw it.  He saw his colleague, in a flash, separate from the remaining crowd and come up to the mage from behind.  He saw the knife slide across Magi’s throat, but more importantly, he saw
her taking the ring!
  Before Trevor could process what had happened, she had dove into the water—with the ring—in a blink of an eye.  It was over just like that.

One of the things a True Thief must do is adapt to changing circumstances.  And the game had just changed
dramatically. 
The knights were running over to the water, but they could not follow in their armor.  “Find her!  Find her for questioning!” he heard one of the captains shout.

That won’t do.  Not one bit. 
Trevor always did have a knack for stirring up a crowd, starting with the mob that he led against Renee and the slob of a baker that she left him for.  He started running toward the docks with a frantic gleam in his mis-matched eyes.  “He doesn’t work alone!  There are two of them!  I saw the other one.  This was a distraction to draw knights away from our good Lord Corovant.  His friend heads to the palace now, even as we sit here!  I’ve just come from city-center…the Great Library burns!  These mages come with power, unable to be corralled.  You must head to the palace before it is too late!  To Corovant!  For Trident and Hammer!  For Trident and Hammer!”  Trevor wound his way among the knights, who slowly picked up the chant as their captain turned his horse around from the edge.

He eyed Trevor a little suspiciously, but finally said, “Let the woman drown.  She killed the foul mage for us anyhow.  If there be another one, we shall have at him ourselves.  Order of Thunder, Order of Thorn, to the palace.  For Trident and Hammer!” And he led his men in a gallop back toward Lord Corovant’s palace.

Trevor hung back, arms raised and full of passion, until all the Mage Guards that could walk had left, along with knights.  The dock was now nearly empty, everyone in their homes or cabins inside the boats.  Only the dead or nearly dead bodies of Magi, Marik, Tarsh, and several Mage Guards were lying there.  Even the man Magi paralyzed had split once the spell was broken upon Magi’s death.

Trevor looked out into the harbor.  He saw the upended rowboat, and knew exactly where Veronica was hiding. 
Grabbing a stone, he flung it at the tiny boat with a
thump. 
Trevor heard a modest splash and waited.  When Veronica’s head popped up from the water, Trevor motioned for her to meet him a few hundred yards away, at the edge of the harbor where the shoreline opens up into the Sea. 
Away from eyes and ears.

An hour later the two of them were huddled by a campfire.  Night had fallen, and they were on the outskirts of Gaust, near some woods.

“That was some handiwork back there,” Trevor began.  “Although I daresay Xaro will not be pleased to know you killed him.  He had Marik
raise
the boy.”

“I considered leaving him alive, but I doubted I could get the ring that way.  A poison dart is useless on mages if you want to steal from them.  They just teleport away before the poison takes effect.”

“Why not knock him out?” Trevor asked, passing a flask over to Veronica.  She was cold from the water, and shivering.  She smelled it and handed it back.

“Why are you questioning my methods?  This was your task to begin with,” Veronica snapped.  “But to your question, if I was off by just a bit and did not knock him out with a single blow, I would be dead.  If I was off with my knife-work, chances are his voice would still be impaired, and that was the priority if I was to protect myself from his spells.  Besides, I have much more confidence in my skill with a knife up close than I do with a clumsy club.  And the blood loss always creates a bit of hysteria.  I needed a few seconds to pry the ring off his finger.  Any more questions, thief?”

“Yes.  What now?”  Trevor asked.

Veronica didn’t answer immediately.  She rubbed her hands close to the fire and sighed, finally looking up at him.  “I think I should reach out to Xaro and update him.”

“He will want the ring brought to him immediately, and will not be pleased to know you killed this mage.”

“He will be pleased to know that I recovered his ring!” Veronica said, clipping her words.

“
We
recovered the ring.  You would be having a pleasant discussion at the point of a spear with Lord Corovant and his knights right now if I hadn’t gotten rid of them for you.”

“The only reason it had to be recovered is because you lost it in the first place, thief.”  Veronica’s eyes flashed.

“And yet it is your task that remains undone, is it not,
Assassin
?”  Trevor asked menacingly.  “If we are to provide Xaro an update now, we shall do it together, just so as there is no discrepancies in our account of the events, of course.”  He took a swig from his flask, but never took his eyes off Veronica. “You know, that ring would be worth a fortune on the Black Market.”

Veronica scowled at Trevor.  “It is worth more than a fortune.  It is worth our lives.  Though your life might be worth considerably less than a fortune, I value mine a bit more.  We shall update him together. 
Fennatulum
,” she said loudly, inching a little closer to the fire for warmth.  “And this shall be our story…”

~Kari~

Quentin led the group to a large cellar below
The
Noisy Saint. 
The steps led down to a large room full of shelves, with barrels of wine stored floor to ceiling.  A small table at the bottom had a single, large candle sitting on it, which Quentin lit manually to light the room.  Picking it up, he glanced at a door to his left that was barred, and shuddered.  He passed by it and kept leading them slowly toward the back of the cellar.

As they rounded a row of wine, they heard a voice just past the edge of their candlelight.  “Thirsty?”

Drawing his short sword, Strongiron moved to the front of the narrow aisle with Quentin.  “Who is that?  Show yourself!”

Stepping out of the shadows, Phillip had a broad
, cold smile across his face.  “It’s just me, Strongiron.  Me…and a few new friends.”  Two men appeared on either side of Phillip, and a woman appeared behind the group at the other end of the wine aisle.  They were all fairly young, maybe a few years older than Kari.  None wore armor, but they all had the same icy smile on their face.

“The grey
-haired one is a True Mage!  He is the biggest threat!”  Phillip yelled, drawing a dirk from his belt as he lunged for Rebecca.

Niku threw a fine blue powder into the air and focused on a spell.  The blue powder sparkle
d as it fell on everyone before disappearing.  Quentin looked impressed.

“What was that?” shouted Kari, rushing forward away from woman approaching behind them, toward Quentin.

“It is measure of protection against the spirits’ ability to possess any of us.  I do not have a ward against the pain that their touch causes, however.”  Niku had already created enough light to chase all the shadows in the cellar away.