Chapter 30
Sunderland has no standing army. Dragonkin do not go to war. We save war for people like the Aos Si. What we have, and what we use extensively is a police force. Our people are not combative as a whole. What we do instead is act out of greed, envy, and personal revenge. We cheat and try to hide our earnings. We steal. But we never go to war.
This is why we really need the DIC.
DIC Investigators’ Manual
A small caravan wound its way through the dry, rocky lands to the west of Tantis, kicking up a small cloud of dust in their passing. Three men, one Daoine and two Bauchan. in semi-military gear rode in front. At first they rode three abreast, but as the road began to enter a canyon, one rider fell back behind them.
Behind him, there rode two men of indeterminate race, behind them a small train of pack horses, with other armed men along side of them. At the rear, another group of three guards.
One of the men of indeterminate race was wrapped in multiple layers of fine gauzy cloth, even veiling his face, and he sported a huge brimmed hat which cast deep shadow over his face. He sat awkwardly on the back of his horse, as if he and his mount were unsure of each other. Leaning forward, he took a deep breath.
“Is it ever possible to get used to all this glare? I’ve been on this side of the Boundary five years and it still drives my eyes wild every time I make this trip.” The sound of his voice was almost shocking in the silence the group was traveling in, with only the wind and the sounds of the horses moving.
“I never found it getting better, Mizak,” said the figure riding next to him, a Doghead wrapped in similar fashion, with cloth covering even his pointed muzzle, but he had no hat. Dark brown hair cascaded around his pointed ears, caught up in a long braid that cascaded down his back His voice, also speaking the gutteral language of the Shadowlands, was somewhere between a dog’s whine and a growl. “I can’t wait until my clan leader lets me go home. He promised me I would get called back this spring, but the weather has warmed and no call. Stuck in an endless round of Tantis and Brightwater and Greshold’s Keep, but never allowed to cross over the gate.”
“If you think your clan leader bad, Dimas, I hope you never have to meet with Queen Bercha in her fortress. Or even Dubh Derg, my master. I am glad to be here. I just wish it wasn’t so damn sunny!”
The Daoine man, armed and armored, riding ahead of the pair, turned his mount around and rode toward him. “What are you mumbling about? I thought we had an agreement when you hired us. Everybody was supposed to speak common, no shadowlander gibberish. We don’t want no plans being made we don’t know about.”
“Sorry, sorry,” said Mizak. He lowered his head to hide the anger in his eyes. “Wasn’t trying to hide anything. I was just complaining about the sunshine.”
“It is bright out here,” the mercenary said. “That’s good, though. We’re less likely to get jumped if there’s enough light to cast good shadows. That’s what Captain Lispin always says, anyway. He’s always been right in the past. He’s the one who set this ride up. I’d trust him if I were you.” He looked at the road ahead. “We don’t have much further to go before we make the meeting place. Right past that narrow stretch ahead. If all goes as planned, we’ll be back in Tantis tonight and you can get out of the sun all you want. Long as we get paid on time.”
His horse neighed, and he patted its neck. With one last glance at the little caravan, he road down the road, licking up a bit of dust as he caught up with the two men riding point.
“I liked our old arrangements better,” Dimas said. “Why do we have to put up with these new fools?” He kept his voice very low, speaking again in his Shadowland dialect. “Our old fools were at least respectful.”
“It came directly from Twrthgart, from Dubh Derg himself, I was told. As for the why, that’s above our pay ranks. Let’s just get this done. I hate this new thing. Cutting out Redbeard? That seems madness to me. I have a bad feeling about this,” Mizak said.
“You always do,” said the Doghead. “Even if things work perfectly.”
“That’s why I have survived so long in this business,” Mizak replied.
Above them, on the cliffs facing the road, Gweir got his men into their final position. He was laying on the ground, watching the caravan’s progress through a long, touch stone-enhanced spy glass. “They’re finally on their way,” he said, using his communication button. “Nobody, and I mean nobody drop out of their position and onto the target until I give the word. Time to keep quiet except for emergencies.”
A small chorus of acknowledgements sounded, and then nothing.
“They’re getting close,” Gabon said, laying on the ground next to Gweir. “Can you make them out yet?”
“Looks like nine or ten mercs. One of’em must be Daoine for sure. Has fancier armor than the rest. A couple of Shadowlanders, by the way they’re bundled up.” He dropped his eye piece and looked at his companion. “Piece of cake.”
Gabon nodded, and then sighed a little. “Keep thinking about our last smuggler raid, the one before we got drafted by the Birch. Kind of nervous that we don’t have White Guard backup.”
Gweir lifted up his gauntleted wrist. “This will take care of most of that. Besides, we outnumber them. ”
“I know. I guess it’s just the newness. Just all me an old dog.” Gabon picked up a pebble, looked at it, and cast it over his left shoulder, away from the road below.
Gweir handed Gabon the spyglass. “Look through this and tell me who you think that might be in the middle. That’ll cheer you up.”
Gabon brought it up to his eye and looked at the oncoming smuggling group. “Lifegiver! Finally!”
“Thought that’d cheer you up,” Gweir said, taking back the spyglass. “Get back to your men. It’s almost time for this party to start.”
As the caravan neared the narrows, the cliffs grew taller, almost two heads above the ground level, and steeper, a wall of crevices, shadow and red rock. The lead riders drew closer together, and the men guarding the sides positioned themselves more widely apart to have room to ride. No more than two animals could ride through the road ahead, and the cliffs cast shadow over the pathway.
Mizak studied the scene ahead with some nervousness, scanning the rock face for signs of trouble. “If there’s a trap, this is the place for it,” he muttered.
“Wait,” said Dimas, stopping his mount and turning his mount to face his companion. “I smell something...something not of the desert. It smells of...magic and sweat...”
Mizak stopped moving forward, and looked at the canyon walls. “What? What does that mean?”
Suddenly there was a twanging sound, and then a whooshing sound as arrows pincushioned the men riding flank. The air was filled with the sounds of pain from human and animal. Unwounded horses ran, and one by one, the wounded mercenaries disappeared. The pack horses in the center started to panic, rearing up and trying to break away from their leads. and up ahead, two of the mercenaries’ horses reared up and threw one of the soldiers, who quickly disappeared. The Daoine mercenary was a sudden pincushion, and he slumped into the saddle, then as they watched, vanished.
“Shit,” Mizak said, loudly, and in Common. “Let’s get out of here!” Before he could run for it, a hand grabbed his horse’s reins and he found a spear aimed at his throat.
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“Well, well, well, Mizak. Funny meeting you so far away from Greshold’s Keep,” Gweir said. “What brings you so far out in the sunlight?”
“Gweir. I heard you got fired after that last gate closure of yours.” Someone on the ground grabbed his wrists and bound them behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dimas wrestled to the ground, face down, having his wrists pound as well. The man who did it, reached over and grabbed Dimas’ shoulder, fumbled with something one handed, and the both of them disappeared.
“Wasn’t fired,” Gweir said. “You might say I was promoted.”
Another soldier pulled Mizak off his horse, and then, after a moment the two were gone.
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Off in the Gray Lands, hidden in a location that outsiders who were not Jinn or Peri were banned from, Violetta Greenleaf hobbled out into the garden outside of her sick room, leaning on a staff. It had been five weeks since her life went topsy-turvy due to the random chance bite of a Bloodfire spider. Her leg was still gaining strength, but was far from normal after being wounded by the spider. Her stamina was still poor. Her Daoine abilities...She shook her head at the thought.
“Slow but steady,” she said to herself. “I’m just not strong enough to ride out of here yet. But I know I’m getting better. That’s why I’m going mad at having my life restricted to a bed room, and a bath. At least the garden is nice.” She took a deep breath. “And my caretakers have been nothing but kind. Be patient, Violetta.”
She moved slowly along garden beds fragrant with rose and medicinal herbs. She turned a corner around the end of the last bed, getting ready to head to the shaded bench that was her walking target when she noticed she wasn’t alone.
Today the Called was sitting with another woman, dressed in similar gauzy robes and veils that the members of her religious order wore sitting down on the bench she was aimed at. The new woman too was jinn, but much thinner and older looking, and her robes were all bright red.
The two women, in deep conversation, stopped speaking as they noticed her draw close.
“We will discuss this later,” the older of the two said. She stood up and headed back inside, walking down a different path than Violetta had used, but before she did it, she gave Violetta a hard, probing look. Saying nothing else, she headed into the building.
Violetta leaned on her staff as she watched as the woman entered the building. An uncomfortable cold touched her as she watched, as if the woman was radiating some aura to filter her out.
“What was that about?” she wondered.
Turning back to look at the Called, she found her looking pensive, a frown on her face as if she was trying to decide something, and didn’t like the choices she needed to pick from. Violetta’s throat tightened as she watched the kind woman who had healed her, knowing somehow or the other she was at least part of the cause of whatever had been said, and did not like it.
She continued moving through the garden, her staff tapping on the flagstones, until she reached the bench where the woman sat.
“Is there anything the matter?” Violetta asked as she settled down on the seat next to the Called, knowing perfectly well that there was.
The veiled woman sighed. “Maybe. Perhaps.” She shook her head. “I was being questioned about my judgment. Policies and politics. It always gets in the way of things, doesn’t it? I’d still make the same decisions again.”
“I am sorry this has happened to you,” Violetta said. “It’s not like I intended to be here or cause you problems. I have tried to be a good guest, not poking my nose into things that aren’t my business. And you have been nothing but kind. You saved my life. I hope they take that into consideration, the circumstances.”
The Called laid a hand over Violetta’s. “Sometimes, in some people’s minds, form rather than intention matter. I’m afraid Elder Mother leans in that direction when she’s unsure of things.” She shook her head. “There’s much that I can’t speak of, that is in flux. There is something she would like to do that I don’t approve of and we will have to come to a decision about it soon. But nothing has been decided yet.”
She took Violetta’s hand, smoothed her face, then gave Violetta a smile. “Let us put Elder Mother and her worries out of our minds for the moment. It is time to think about you, not the worries of others. So have you been able to call to your mana yet?”
“I can feel it...better than last week. But it feels so far away, almost like it was an echo of itself.”
The Called nodded. “This is one of the side effects of the Bloodfire Spider poisoning, the blocking of your mana channels,” the Called said. “Your mana channels are not broken, but they are not normal. They feel better to me than they did, but I am loathe to let you leave until that is healed. “Here,” she said, putting a small bead into Violetta’s hand.
“What is that? A touchstone?”
The Called shook her hand. “It’s similar,” she said. “But it won’t channel your magic. We use it for training, helping people focus on their mana. Even the Jinn have to train in magic’s use.”
“What do I do?” Violetta asked.
“Try to get your mana to touch it. When you connect, it will start to glow. The better the connection, the brighter it will glow.”
Violetta closed her eyes, and went back in thought to what she had learned back when she was in school, when she and her friends Gan and Elaine were learning basic magics.
“Deep inside of you,” Mistress Anis would say, “There is a flame. That’s your magic. See it? It’s dancing in your heart. Touch it with your mind, pet it, draw from it. See it move from your heart into your hand.”
Of the three of them, Gan took to it the easiest. Almost from the beginning of the instruction, she could bring a flame of magic fire to her fingertip. Violetta was not far behind; she and Elaine did it almost at the same second.
Remembering those days, she went deep inside of herself, and found that small spark of mana, laying there in her heart where it had rested since the day she was born. She touched it with her mind, and it lightly flared. Teasing it along, she drew it into the hand the stone the Called gave her rested, bidding it to surround the stone, enter it.
She opened her eyes and her hand at the same time. The small pearl of magical material glowed faintly on her hand.
“Won’t be long now,” the Called said.
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Havron’s second squad of troops had picked up the second group of couriers as easily as Gweir’s men had, and now it was time for the final step in the joint mission.
People were gathered in one of the troop carriers the King’s Guard liked to use. Sael was dressed in his green dress uniform with shiny metal helmet with brass wings on it. Over his shoulders was a scarlet cloak, pinned at his throat with the emblem of the Birch leaf, the sigil of his branch of the King’s guards, with sword strapped to his hip and spear in his hand.
Standing next to him was Byrony in his DIC dress uniform of grey and gold. Behind him his two ceremonial guards stood at the ready, and to his left stood Ruell, in the white robes of the White Circle, with his badge of office, a simple white circle on a golden disk.
Behind them stood Havron’s troops, about fifty men dressed in battle gear. Beyond them was a loose line of six people in white robes; these were members of the Magic Guard. These were for official show. The rest of their crew were dispersed in the land around their target’s location. Those people were already at work, and had been for the last two days, reinforcing a no-jump field over the cabin.
“Ready, men?” Havron asked.
“Looks like we’re good to go,” Byrony said.
Sael nodded to an orderly, and the door was closed and the jump made, to an area near the targeted cabin, but not visible from the front windows. The door opened, and 30 of his soldiers, marching at a slow run, filed out to surround the building.
Giving them a few moments to get into place, Havron turned to the rest of the assembly. “Shall we proceed?”
Havron led his assembly to the cabin door, and knocked on it loudly, three times. “Open up. Official business.”
There was no response, even after repeating this three times. With a flick of his wrist and a touch of his gauntlet, Havron blew the door open. The room, a wood paneled luxury cabin with rich sofas, fine end tables and even a sand bed in one corner was empty.
“Did he get away?” Ruell asked in a low tone. “Did he have a bolt hole?”
“Four of them,” Havron said. “We blocked all of them before he got here.”
Byrony and his guard moved in. “Search room by room, and carefully. Expect traps, invisibility tools, hidden rooms, especially below ground.”
Havron motioned to his men, who began to search the rooms and places beyond.
“Do you think he slipped away?” Umber, who had followed Byrony in, asked.
“No,” Havron replied. “We had this place watched before he even got here, and the no-jump field already in place. He’s got to be somewhere here. He might have suspected something was up when his couriers were late coming, but we would have seen it if he had run.”
It didn’t take the troops long to clear the ground floor, and just a little longer to find the hidden passage that led into an elaborate storage area under the building and beyond, and to tunnels that lead to exits well away from the cabin. The storage rooms were stuffed with all sorts of trade goods – semi-sanctioned items like knives and pottery and Black Silk armour cloth from the Shadowlands filled one room, and legitimate to own goods from the Sunlit Lands, obviously there to make trade deals. The next room though, was stuffed with bundles of dreamdust and other contraband that had no business being traded. The last room was the kicker. There were a large stack of crates against one wall. Gweir opened one of the crates, and it was filled with knobbed slabs of stones and one box that contained a programming device.
“Jumpstones?” Havron said. “With a programming machine? Who made these?”
“They don’t look like B&F goods,” Byrony said. “Not made as well, for one.” He picked up one of the jumpstones, put it between his fingers, and snapped it easily.
“Doesn’t matter if they’re made cheaply or not,” Ruell said. “What matters is if they can be programmed to jump the Border barrier.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Byrony nodded. “Let me take a case of these back to my labs.”
Havron pulled a case out of the stack. That’s when Byrony saw it...the same company glyph he had spotted at the murder site at Xendo’s Freehold, but hadn’t been able to identify. Not saying anything, he handed the box to Umber. “Run this back to my tent, and don’t let it out of your sight. You’ll have to walk beyond the no-jump zone, don’t forget that.”
“Yes, sir,” Umber said, and left the room.
As he left, one of Havron’s soldiers pushed in past him.
“We found him, sir,” the man said, saluting. “I’m afraid you’re not going to like it. He’s dead. Looks like he killed himself.”