058 – Thorns

***

The messenger birds resembled parrots in their coloration and had a similar ability to mimic sounds, but that did not explain how these bird-brained creatures could remember and pass on complex messages or how they located the recipients of those messages. Luniquial’s contacts moved about the entire globe. No normal bird could find a person sailing on a ship at sea or riding a horse across the landscape. I suspected these the messenger birds to be possessed by lesser daemons.

Most monsters formed by chance when a lunar daemon took control of whatever creature happened to pass by. A method for controlled possession, however, could create friendly, helpful creatures with predictable results, much the way people used selective breeding to modify dogs and horses. There was no reason that I was aware of that monsters had to be violent and savage, although most were. A science of monster creation could result in messenger birds and fluorescent cats and other beneficial monsters – although that would be forbidden lore known only to the dark nations.

The messenger birds arriving at the bird tower flew in the open window and calmly seated themselves in the aviary. They screeched and cawed but didn’t reveal their missives to anyone but their master. Their beaks were sealed.

Luniquial arrived at sunset to feed his pets and meet with his fellow officer in the Void Cult, Iiylazh the Viridescent Blade, a swordsman whose title arose from the alchemic poisons that coated his sword.

“It’s about time you got here, parrot man.” He smoked pungent herbs out of a long metal pipe and blew a smoke ring as Luniquial entered.

“You have no room to complain to me about tardiness,” the spymaster replied “when you’re several months late getting here, Master Iiyluzh. The lack of skilled assassins has greatly inhibited my spy network here in Sandgrave. Everything’s behind schedule because of your world tour.”

“Hunting down traitors is a time consuming business, you know? Especially when they’re so widely dispersed. I’ve circled the continent twice onboard more ships than I care to count doing your bloody work. Now that the job is done, a vacation is in order.”

“Vacation? Not hardly. There’s too much work for any malingering. The disciples here will escort you to our secret base to report to the dark lord, after which you will immediately return to Nettlewreath for your next mission.”

These two men hadn’t seen each other for a long time, but they exchanged no greetings or pleasantries before getting down to business. Luniquial had a sharp and professional personality, while Iiyluzh displayed a kind of languid creepiness with his every action. This contrast in their characters strained their professional relationship. They glared at each other from opposite sides of the aviary. Hwilla and I stood silently to the side, trying not to draw any attention to ourselves.

“Before I depart the capital, what can you tell me of the competition?”

“There isn’t much. Just over thirty titled swordsmen dwell in Sandgrave, along with a larger number of unproven blades. They are, for the most part, a rough group of knights with very few esoteric styles of swordcraft. Only one man can challenge you here: Fownst the Alchemist.”

I blurted out, “Fownst?” Both of the swordsmen turned their heads my way. I had spoken out of turn and interrupted their conversation. “Oh. Uh… Pardon me.”

“Do you know something of Fownst, disciple?” Luniquial asked.

“Yes. He runs a small shop in the Leech District from which he sells alchemic medicines at highly inflated prices. I met him just yesterday while shopping for healing pills.”

“Didn’t I tell you four to keep out of sight in the capital? And to avoid trouble with other swordsmen?”

“You did, Spymaster Luniquial. However, to buy an alchemic elixir, one must deal with an alchemist. I assumed acting as a normal customer at a shop was as inconspicuous as one could be…”

Luniquial gave me a cool stare which implied he did not agree with my assessment. “And did you observe anything else about this alchemist?”

“I did. Master Fownst claimed that he had been permanently affected by a poison, one which necessitates constant doses of an antidote to keep in check. Judging by the poor state of his health and the weakness of his crippled fire, I believed him. The old man has given up on swordcraft and taken up alchemy as an exclusive pursuit. I can’t imagine he’s a threat to anyone.”

Iiyluzh laughed. “Ha ha. No one is a threat to me, young one. His blade is of no concern. We fear his insight. I often kill silently and unseen. Subtler poisons mimic natural forms of death, so that neither the victim nor anyone else suspects my role. But a skilled alchemist could uncover the truth by examining the corpses of the slain. Were he a clever healer, this Fownst could even devise antidotes to counter my venom. Wizards weak in a duel are often very capable in a battle of wits.”

Luniquial nodded in agreement. “He has to be eliminated before we conduct any other missions. Beyond that reason, depriving the locals of healing elixirs will increase the deadliness of the coming battles and weaken the kingdom’s forces. He’s an impediment to our goals.”

“I understand,” I muttered. The death of the old alchemist was decided upon. My objections wouldn’t change that.

“Your unexpected contact with the victim alters our plans, Strythe, therefor you can assist in his elimination. Iiylazh, you’ll have to do one more mission before returning to headquarters. Your vacation can wait.”

“There’s no trouble there. A duel with one of my fellow alchemists is no wearisome task. The work is relaxing and the results delightful. I look forward to it,” Iilyazh said with a wicked grin.

I had accidentally volunteered myself for assassination duty. Now I had to follow the commands of this disagreeable and poisonous swordsmen.

***

The two senior disciples had mostly recovered. Their grievous wounds had disappeared, not even leaving behind scars. Even the basic levels of augmentation increased a swordsman’s healing to superhuman levels. Now, both of them wished to get back to the citadel, where Lord Hrolzek would elevate them to officers.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Strythe, you’ve delayed our return by running off on your own again,” Zambulon said.

“Getting medicine seemed like a sensible thing to do after our last mission. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

The four of us gathered at the safe house. Although we had lived together in the Hall of Discipline’s barracks, we were now roommates in a more domestic setting, a cottage in a quite neighborhood. It turned out that Yurk, Hwilla, and I didn’t know how to cook. I had never cared to learn in the metropolis. Yurk and Hwilla had spent most of their lives in a martial environment, training for combat and dining at a communal mess hall. Only Zambulon had been a normal person before enkindling his fire, and so he became our resident chef through the process of elimination. He stood over a wood burning stove examining several boiling pots and sizzling strips of animal flesh on an iron skillet.

“Well, you must have done something strange to get assigned to work with Iiylazh of all people. I’m just glad you didn’t get the rest of us roped into going with you on this mission. It’ll be bad enough sailing on a ship with him.”

“Is he really that bad?”

“He’s an absolute freak. He’s murdered several of our swordsmen over the years. Not in fair fights either, but through his insidious toxins.”

“And no one complained?”

“That’s his job. He executes those who fail at their missions, and hunts down traitors and turncoats who try to flee. But sometimes he gets carried away.”

“I see…” That was troubling news. The Void Phantoms actively tracked down their former members. If my escape from Sandgrave raised any suspicions at the citadel, Iiyluzh would be the one to follow after me. My chance to avoid him was small, and my chance to beat him in a fight was nonexistent.

“That’s not the worst of it. He’s killed a half dozen of his own apprentices as well. None of them survived. Bloated up like rotten fruit. It’s best not to get on his bad side – or his good side.”

“Is that why you told him I was Malisent’s apprentice?” I asked Hwilla.

“Yes. I thought it might discourage him. She’s one of the few people who stands up to him, and they even fought a duel in the past.”

I wondered if they had some sort of rivalry. Malisent was no alchemist, but she did employ her familiar’s petrifying venom. The two poisonists could not get along.

“Is the food ready?” Hwilla asked.

“What? Do I have to serve you as well? I’m supposed to be the senior disciple, yet here I am acting as the camp cook. Come get it yourselves,” Zambulon said. His health must have improved because he was back to being a loud grouch about everything.

“You didn’t have to cook for us.”

“Oh yes I did. I’ve seen what happens when Yurk tries to make food, and it isn’t pretty. He could concoct a poison a thousand times more deadly than any alchemist. I wouldn’t trust him to boil a potato.”

Yurk shrugged, not denying the facts. Hwilla covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. The general mood among disciples had lightened with the relief of finishing a dangerous mission, or maybe they wanted to enjoy their last few days together before our little group would split in half.

***

The shop of alchemical pills and potions did not follow a regular schedule. The place was sealed up tight when Fownst was away, asleep, or working on projects that took up all his attention. I had to visit several times before at last finding the front door open for business. Fownst had also opened the wooden shutters to let out a miasma of smoke from burning herbs. The air smelled distinctly like tar and acetone.

“Ah. Young swordsman. You’re back.” The alchemist waved a paper fan over a cauldron to disperse the smell.

“Greetings, Master Fownst. I have with me the reagent you asked for: white thorn scrawling vine.” I placed on a table a dense bundles of the vines wrapped in strips of burlap cloth to protect from the prickly thorns.

“What? So soon?” The alchemist examined the delivery. “You gathered all this?”

“No. I paid some workers to harvest it. Their hands were so bloody and swollen by the end that they regretted taking the job.”

Fownst took out a single vine from the bunch, which was about as straight and stiff as a willow switch. The plant had a dark green color while the thorns were pure white. Fownst took out a hand tool resembling a wire stripper and ran it down the length of the vine. The white thorns popped off in one go. Clearly he had done this before.

“An excellent harvest. Where did you find so many?”

“First, I’d like to know how much they’re worth to you.”

“For this many, I can reduce your payment by one twelfth.”

“Five shekels of gold? Is that discount rate for a single elixir or a batch?”

“Of course it’s for a single dose! You want more than five gold coins for picking some weeds from the dirt? Robbery. How greedy the younger generations have become. I fear for the future of this poor nation.” Fownst huffed as he picked up the thorns with a tweezers and dropped them one at a time into a glass jar. “Unless of course, you’re willing to make a small addition to these bundles of thorns.”

“Such as?”

“Tell me where you found them. The white thorns grow slowly but can be harvested multiple times.”

“Why should I tell you when I could gather them myself?”

“Because it will take more than a year for those plants to grow back, and a young swordsman has more exciting things to do with his time. I doubt you came to Sandgrave to work as a gardener.”

“True. With a war on the horizon, I prefer having a healing elixir in my pocket.”

“I will give you two elixirs with their price reduced by one twelfth.”

“That’s still extravagant for a man of limited means.”

“You can keep one and sell the other to recoup your money. The price of life saving medicines increases dramatically during wartime and far away from the capital. You can ransom some wounded knight out of his whole estate for a taste of that potion.”

“That’s a grim scenario I’d rather not think about. How about one elixir for one sixth the cost? That’s still a discount of ten gold coins for the thorns, but it doesn’t leave me completely destitute.” I took out my pouch of money and tossed it on the table.

“Deal,” Fownst said. He counted out the coins and placed them on a scale to make sure they weighed the proper amount. “And of course, the location of the herbs as well.”

“Certainly. I can show you where they spring up and introduce you to the owner of the dirt patch if you’d like.”

“Good good. I must go to there quickly. Those bone headed peasants often uproot and burn the white thorns for charcoal. Tomorrow at daybreak we can travel across the river to the site.”

“As you wish…” I said farewell to the alchemist and left him to strip the thorns from the vines.

Several blocks from the shop, at the edge of the Leech District, a shadowy figure emerged from one of the apothecaries and strolled besides me.

“Did you set up a meeting?” the figure asked. Iiyluzh snapped his finger to light his pipe, causing puff of brown smoke to rise in the air. The brief flash illuminated his face in the darkness.

“Yes,” I replied. “Tomorrow morning we’ll lure him out of the city.”