Nightlord: Orb (70 page)

“You want to swap the treasury for the Palace?”

“Kind of, I guess.  Yes.  I’ll claim the Palace and you can claim the treasury.  Does that sound fair?”

“If we can find the treasury,” Bellons mused, “we should have more money than we can carry.”

“Probably.  I don’t know, but it seems likely.  Even if the treasury is too much trouble, you have a whole city to loot.”

“If we have more money than we can carry, we don’t need to take anything from you, and we don’t need this building.  I’m not seeing how this works in your favor.”

“I’m a wizard.  I want to study the place.  I’m not here for the money.  If I was, I’d be at the treasury.”

“Huh.”  Bellons pulled at his lower lip for a moment, thinking.  “All right.”

“So, you agree?”

Vort tugged on Bellons’ sleeve and whispered to him for a minute.  I heard his cautions about making promises to wizards, especially strange wizards with impressively-magical swords living in ancient ruins who speak dead languages and know their way around suspiciously well.  I got the impression Bellons was the leader, but Vort might be the brains.

“All right,” Bellons said, finally.  “I agree to your terms.”

I gave them directions to the treasury.

“But,” I cautioned, “remember: Zirafel built the Great Arch and wasn’t afraid to put magical safeguards on things.  Their magicians were impressively skilled.  So take your time, check everything thoroughly, and take no chances, okay?  I doubt any mechanical traps or locks are still in any shape to function after all this time, but that’s not a guarantee.  You’re going after a big treasure; it’s sure to be protected with
something
that hasn’t yet fallen apart.”

“We’ll be on our guard,” Bellons promised.  “Good morning to you, sir.  And to you, dame.”  He made a quick gesture, a hand over his face, swung aside suddenly as though opening a visor.  He and his friends headed off to find the treasury of Zirafel.  They left Frosh’s statue behind, but I suppose that was pure practicality.  They could come back for it.  It’s not like he was going to suffer in the meantime.

“You know,” Mary mentioned, watching them go, “I think the brothers, Tryne and Krone, haven’t seen a woman in a while.”

“I noticed them staring at you, too.  It’s possible they’ve never seen a woman in a tight outfit like that.  They’re probably more used to women in skirts and blouses and robes.”

“Really?  You think I should change?”

“No.  When and if we get to some sort of civilization, we can see if we need to blend in.  You’re going to be outstanding no matter where we go, though.”

Mary smiled at me for that and took my arm again.

“You think they’ll be okay?”

“No idea.  They’ve traveled a long way to even get here; that says good things about their competence, if not their wisdom.  They also have brains enough to send someone in first to see if things try to eat him.  They stand a decent chance of dealing with whatever troubles the treasury might give them.”

“And if they don’t, we’ll hear the screaming.”

“Possibly.  Speaking of hearing things, I need to call T’yl directly and see what’s going on.  Want to come along?”

“Sure.  I’d love to learn how to use a smartmirror.  Do we get good signal in an ancient, ruined city at the edge of the world?”

“I’ve got a fantastic carrier.”

Mary helped me work with the mirror on the third floor.  It was surprisingly large and mounted on the wall of a bedroom.  I wasn’t sure it if was meant to be an accessory to the bed or a full-length dressing mirror.  Either way, it served quite well as a scrying and communications mirror.  It was like having a big-screen television for a video call.

Finding T’yl was something of a challenge.  The last time I was in Karvalen, I put up a pretty good series of anti-scrying defenses.  They were still there and as brutally unpleasant as ever.  Mary didn’t recognize the false image of a huge, flaming eye, but she agreed it was a wonderful special effect.  I mourned her lack of classic fantasy education.

Eventually, I rummaged around in my headspace and squeezed out the information I needed.  The trick to communicating with anyone in Karvalen—at least, from the outside—was to know the exact, specific details of a mirror on the inside.  That’s why there’s a room devoted to that, so princes and other nobility can call the capitol directly.  The information I needed was the set of particulars that defined mirrors we set up in the capitol.

It was hard to remember the phone numbers of the various mirrors.  I’ve had a bad decade, okay?

I took aim at a specific mirror, charged the spell, and let fly.

Okay, that one wasn’t available.  Maybe it was broken, or had an active connection going.  I picked another mirror at random from my memory and tried again—same result.  I worked my way through the list, grumbling about inventing call waiting signals, until we got a connection.  Finally, the image in the mirror rippled and swam, altering to a view of a young lady.  She was dark-haired and wore it in a wraparound braid high on her head.  She wore a dark blue tunic and had cross-body ribbon over left shoulder with an embroidered badge on it.  I couldn’t see anyone else; she seemed to be sitting at a table or desk in a niche while she faced the mirror.

“May I help—” she began, then screamed piercingly and severed the connection.

“That was odd,” I noted.

“I’d say.  Your face is prettier than
that
,” Mary offered.  “At night, I’d understand her reaction, but during the day, you look pretty good.  You do need a shave, though.”

I rubbed my hand along my jaw and chin, using a spell along with the movement.

“Better?”

“Much.  But have you considered growing a beard?”

“Too messy.”

“Blood soaks in on you, remember?”

“Huh.  Good point.  Would you like me to grow a beard?”

“Let’s try it out and I’ll let you know.  I think it might look good on you.”

“You should have said so before I shaved, but I’ll start now.  My hair-growing spell is still running; give it a couple of days.  Meanwhile, do you think I should call her back?”

“She seemed pretty agitated,” Mary mused.  “Let’s give her a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Can I try it?”

“Sure.”  I stood aside and let her take over.  She still couldn’t cast a scrying spell, but she could operate it.  She practiced a bit, doing the whole pan-and-scan over Zirafel’s ruins, before zeroing in on the treasury building.  It was a big, solid structure with a deeply forbidding air about it.  Someone obviously told the architect, “Make it imposing.  Make it loom.  Make it look back at observers, preferably with a scowl.”  The architect did his job.

The treasure-hunters had already broken in; the double doors in front were open.  One hung askew while the other lay off to one side.  I wondered how they did it.  Wizardry and a big hammer seemed indicated.

She moved the point of view in through the door.  The treasury building had more to it than a big vault full of money.  It was a place of business, like a bank.  There were lots of places where money could change hands or where people working for the treasury could explain why people not working for the treasury couldn’t have any of it.  Mary searched through the place for a bit and we spotted signs of the guys’ passage.  The equivalent of cash drawers had been forced open and emptied, for one thing; every drawer, box, and container had been cracked.

Mary did find them.  They were down two floors, through three more doors, and were currently counting loot they’d already recovered.  Vort, their wizard, was muttering and waving his hands at another door.  Judging from the grins and the occasional playfulness with loose coins, everyone seemed pleased.

The image swam away, leaving only reflection.  It still seems strange to have one during the day.

“Nice job,” I told her.  “You have a light touch.  You drive the thing wonderfully.”

“I’ve used drones to plot the layout of a target,” she informed me.  “These are just different controls.”

“Fair enough.  Now, let’s call the receptionist back and see if we get the same response.”

“I’ve got an idea.  How about
I
call her back and you stay out of sight?”

“You think it really had something to do with me?”

“You’re
persona non grata
, right?  They think you’re some terrible tyrant, Dread Lord?”

“Demon King,” I corrected.  “And I’m more likely to be regarded as an
exceptional
tyrant.  Even so, I still have a hard time believing some random lady on magic mirror duty would react like that.  All I want is to get hold of T’yl so he can answer some questions.”

“So I’ll call and ask to speak with him.  If you have to place a direct call, we’ll find that out.”

“Probably the best course,” I sighed.  “Please do.”

She tried.  I had to help with the details—the equivalent of dialing the specific number.  Once that went off, she handled it perfectly.

The mirror swam and I stepped out of the way.  I couldn’t see what went on, but they couldn’t see me, either.  I also couldn’t hear them, but I could hear Mary.

They rapidly ran into communication difficulties.  From my position, I gave Mary a translation spell for Rethven; after that, things went much more smoothly.  Mary said she was a wizard in the Lands of the West and wanted to reach the magician T’yl.  She didn’t get much help from the person on the other end.  Eventually, she closed the connection.

“Apparently, we’ve called someplace named Carrillon,” she informed me.  “T’yl is in the Fortress of the East, whatever that is.  The girl on the other end of the line says it’s impossible to reach anyone inside the Fortress; we’ll have to use some other method, or actually go there.”

“Huh.  They moved the mirrors to Carrillon?”  I thought about it for a minute.  “It was the old capitol of Rethven.  It has symbolic significance.  I guess my worse half moved there to occupy the old seat of government.  It would make a better impression to have the old throne and crown and scepter and whatever.  It’s also closer to everyone, rather than out in the boonies beyond the Eastrange…”

“Do you have a map I could look at, perchance?”

I didn’t, but I could raise the point of view of a scrying mirror until both Karvalen and Carrillon were in frame.  I pointed out Karvalen, the mountain out in the eastern plains right on the eastern edge of the mirror.  Then the Eastrange, to the left of it, and had to explain why it was called the Eastrange—because Rethven, farther west, looked east and saw a huge range of mountains.  Then there were the rivers, forests, farmlands, and cities of Rethven itself.  And, finally, Carrillon, down south on the coast, well to the west of the mountains.

I noticed the roads of Rethven, between the cities, were easy to see and pretty much all straight lines.  I zoomed in on one and discovered it was solid stone, probably grown by my pet rock.  Whatever else my worse self did, at least he solved the transportation problem within the kingdom.  I hated those mud farms they called roads; maybe he did, too.  Of course, it was also possible the mountain knew I hated the mud farms and did something about them while I was indisposed.

“There are a number of other cities,” I finished, “as you can see.  I don’t know how many of them are significant at this point.”

“Got it.  So, we’re chucking another message spell at T’yl?”

“Right on the first try.  I plan to include a return-call number, basically, so he can reach us on this mirror.”

“Sweet.  I’ll watch.”

So I put together the spell, loaded it for speed, and launched it in the general direction of Karvalen.  I took the extra time to walk Mary through the process; she had lots of questions.  It’s not the simplest spell, but with a little practice it ought to be within the limits of her skill.

“How long until he calls?” Mary wanted to know.

“Good question.  It’s like voicemail; he’ll get it when he gets it.  It can’t home in on him, exactly; he’s likely to be shielded from normal magical seeking.  However, like the first one, I gave it several places he’s likely to be, or at least places he’ll check, starting with under the bed in Karvalen.”

“Fair enough.  What shall we do with the rest of the afternoon?”

“I’d say we should teach you some basic healing spells and work through some language lessons,” I suggested, “but I think you already have other plans.”

She did.  And whatever the mirror is really there for, it’s interesting to have it so close to the bed.

The faint, distant screaming was important, I grant you.  At that exact moment, however, I had more urgent matters to concern me.  To be fair, we both rolled out of the bed as soon as the moment passed.  Mary grabbed guns; I grabbed Firebrand.

“What have you got?”

Nothing.  They’re too far away.

“Bronze?”

I didn’t feel anything but a mild interest.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t bothering her out in the courtyard.

“It’s the treasure-hunters,” Mary supplied.  Of course, she was right.  We dressed, hurried down, mounted up, and headed off.  Bronze clanged to a halt at the treasury doors and we dismounted.  Once inside, I conjured a light.  Our daytime eyes may see well in dim light, but not in pitch black.  Down the stairs and through broken doors, and there we were.