The steward led his apprentice back to the city while dictating a list of merchants dealing in strategically important goods he should visit on his way to the mage academy. As soon as they crossed into the city, Weylan jogged off to the merchant’s quarter, and Jago continued down the main road. Once he was sure he was unobserved, he turned into a side alley and bought a hot sausage in a bun from a street vendor. Eating it as he walked, he navigated the side streets until he reached a tavern marked by a sign with a colorful barrel: the “Exotic Barrel Tavern.” He went in, greeted the innkeeper, and proceeded to a small back room with a single table and four chairs. He sat down alone.
The innkeeper personally took his order. Jago chose one of the imported lagers, known to connoisseurs for its exotic origins. Many of the lesser nobility or minor functionaries frequented the tavern to sample the unusual beverages the innkeeper somehow sourced from all over the world.
After bringing the drink, the innkeeper left. Half a glass later, a man in black robes with his hood pulled low over his face entered and sat opposite Jago, glancing around nervously.
Jago sighed inwardly. Amateurs. Just once, he wished to work with professionals. But his orders from his superiors were clear. Sometimes he thought they preferred the intelligence business to be obvious and easy to spot, hiring incompetents like this as if it were some job creation scheme. It made no sense.
He greeted the man, “Welcome. Thanks for responding to my invitation.” He turned a ring on his finger, and dark shadowy runes appeared on the walls, visible only by their sharp edges and contrast against the surroundings. “We are now safe from prying eyes and ears. You can speak freely.”
The man pushed back his hood, revealing a young, unremarkable face with brown hair and eyes. He scowled, “I didn’t appreciate finding a letter on my pillow in what’s supposed to be a secure, locked, and magically protected room.”
Jago spread his arms in a calming gesture. “Apologies for the theatrics. I need to stay in practice somehow. And it worked better than the two letters I sent.”
“Letters? They must still be in my inbox.”
“Then I suggest you read your mail faster to avoid surprises in the future.”
The young man relaxed. “Fair point. I was just caught off guard. Sorry. I don’t usually take espionage-type quests. I’m not good at this stuff.”
“That’s evident.” Jago smiled to soften the criticism and placed some gold coins on the table, not yet pushing them toward his informant.
“No one told me becoming a mage meant actually studying at the Mage Academy. Or that it would be so expensive!”
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Jago waited for him to finish his rant. “So, surely it’s welcome to receive additional funds for some easy and safe information gathering.”
The young mage nodded. “Yeah, right. So, I asked the archchancellor…”
“You what?!?” Jago resisted the urge to facepalm or slap the idiot into next week.
“Relax! I was tasked to transcribe some reports about the duskgnomes and inserted a fictional report about one of the heroes mentioning the name as the mage who destroyed the tunnel the duskgnomes escaped through.”
Jago thought for a moment, then nodded. That was clever. “And? Did he recognize the name?”
“He mentioned a teacher he had in magic theory at the capital when he was an adept, named Malvorik. But that was fifty years ago, and he’s been dead for a long time. I asked a friend studying at the capital, and he checked the temple records. A mage named Malvorik did die using the liturgic ritual of Honorable Farewell. No way he survived that. It’s not a common name. I found no other mages with that name or anything similar in the Mage Academy archive, the central registry of the Order of Mages, the book Famous Mages of Our Time, or the temple archives. Malvorik had children who also became mages, but they have different names, so no Malvorik Jr. or anything. None of them work or live outside the capital. There is no known mage tower or residence outside or near Mulnirsheim either. The archchancellor asked me to remove that part of the report since it was obviously wrong.”
Jago was pleasantly surprised. That was a much more thorough investigation than he’d expected. He’d thought the young mage would only check the registry at most. He pulled out more gold coins, added them to the stack, and pushed them across the table. “Good work. That means our mage is using a fake name.”
“Why are you looking for this guy anyway? Did he commit a crime?”
“He’s supposedly powerful and resides near Mulnirsheim. That warrants investigation.”
Jago made small talk to build rapport with this unexpectedly useful informant and then said goodbye.
After the informant left, he sipped his lager. Who was this “Malvorik”? Artifact mages required rare and exotic materials. Jago would have been informed if anyone bought something like mythril in the city or ordered it from outside. And where did Malvorik live? Some hidden lair in the mountains? An invisible mage tower? Weylan’s vague descriptions suggested a subterranean hideout, but that seemed unlikely. The duskgnomes probably stumbled on a hidden emergency exit tunnel.
Since his apprentice hadn’t mentioned meeting the mage beforehand, Jago had no chance to have him followed. They must have met somewhere inside the city; otherwise, his magic bracelet would have alerted him if Weylan had left. Maybe the swordstaff wasn’t even made by the mage himself. It looked like the ones common in the Cathurian Empire. Artifacts with repair enchantments never showed their age, so it could be a thousand years old or brand new. It wouldn’t be the first time a mage paid a revenant with an ancient relic because he was short on gold. There was no way to tell without having it analyzed by a trusted mage specialized in enchantments, and Jago didn’t know any he could rely on.
There also hadn’t been any sightings of duskgnomes at the city gates yet. The whole group had disappeared somewhere in the underground tunnels. No tunnels led inside or behind Mulnirsheim, and the lands south were held by the Krigesti. Maybe they found some underground city or a way farther west to a hidden valley?
Jago downed the rest of his lager and stood up. He deactivated the magic ring and left. There were too many things to worry about. He decided to ignore the duskgnomes and their mysterious disappearance. If his apprentice mentioned another meeting with the elusive mage, Jago would follow him himself. But until then, he decided to leave that mystery alone. There was just too much else going on.