Arcanum (53 page)

Felix went from petulance to comprehension. “You never had enough money.”

“No, my lord. It went across the river.”

“That will change, Master Thaler.” Felix kicked a bookcase with the toe of his boot. “What can you do that’ll help us now?”

The man’s face went through a series of contortions. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “Texts concerning battles between sorcerers and the non-magical that might yield useful information? The Order would have cleared all the obvious ones from our shelves years ago. Something might have slipped through, though. My lord, I’m going to have to talk to the other librarians. One man can’t know everything, but someone may know where to look.”

“We have to kill Eckhardt soon. Tonight, tomorrow. This can’t go on. I won’t have it.”

There was another long silence, then Thaler finally said: “My lord, it might not be possible to kill Eckhardt. He might be too powerful, or too well protected.”

“Or it might be as easy as sticking a dagger in his back.” Felix made the motion. “We don’t really know, do we?”

“You could send someone to spy on him,” said Thaler. “Do you have anyone suitable?”

“I don’t know. We’ve always relied on the Order for scrying.” Felix thought of all the people he might use, but those he really trusted – Thaler, Büber, Sophia – were already known to Eckhardt, either by sight or reputation. He needed someone anonymous. “Do you know of anyone?”

Thaler stared at the floor. “Mr Ullmann? He might do it, if you asked him. It’ll be incredibly dangerous, of course, but he’s a lively boy and quick-witted with it.”

“Go and get him,” Felix said. “Do you know what time of day it is, Master Thaler?”

“Past noon, I believe, my lord.” Thaler bowed and left, crossing the library and disappearing through a side door into the librarian’s quarters.

Felix tapped his foot. Büber was late, and even though the huntmaster had promised to come back, there had to be a plan in case he didn’t. Yet sending someone over the river to spy on Eckhardt, then come back with information that could be used to help kill a hexmaster, was incredibly risky. He might as well have this Ullmann pressed and save Eckhardt the bother.

Kill a hexmaster. How could that be done, when all the stories he’d read, what he’d seen Mistress Agana do, told him that even an army of mundanes would be slaughtered before they’d laid hands on him?

But hadn’t the signore told him a story of seeing an Italian magician being brought down by weight of numbers? If Allegretti had been there now, Felix could have asked him. But he wasn’t. Not only had the signore manifestly failed to carry out Felix’s orders, the prince had Büber’s words regarding the sword-master rattling around inside his skull, looking for a home.

He was short of men. He had a couple of centuries of Jews, perhaps half a century of librarians, a berserker huntmaster, and an adept he’d previously banished. The only thing he had in excess was books. He wandered the shelves, running his fingers along the mismatched spines in the hope that one might literally jump out at him and flop open at the right page.

Too many of the wrong sort of stories: nothing fantastical like that was going to happen. He had what he had, and he had to fashion a victory out of that.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he failed to see Büber draw alongside him. The huntmaster had to clear his throat, and Felix reached for his sword as he turned.

“My lord’ll need to be sharper than that,” said Büber. He was somehow looking even taller and more scarred than before.

“Will she come?” he asked.

“She’s here,” Büber replied, then smirked at Felix’s sudden head-turning. “Not here here. She’s waiting outside the walls.”

“Will she, you know …?”

Büber said nothing, and just nodded.

Felix felt his whole body flood with the gentle heat of relief. “Can I see her?”

“Perhaps afterwards. She accepted your apology, barely, and her moods are mercurial.” Büber smile hardened. “If we don’t take Eckhardt by surprise, none of us are going to get a second chance.”

“Master Thaler is going to ask one of his men to act as a spy,” said Felix, and the smile flickered back.

“
Master
Thaler now, is it? But a spy’s a good idea, if we can get away with it. Who’s he chosen?”

“That man there. Mr Ullmann.”

Thaler and Ullmann stood momentarily at the front desk before being directed further towards the prince, Thaler steering the young usher like a barge, with a hand on his shoulder all the way. Perhaps he thought Ullmann would bolt.

“Peter,” said Thaler. “I thought you’d…”

“And good afternoon to you, Master Librarian.”

Thaler stepped forward, and before Büber could skip away, he was encircled by stout arms and thick-fingered hands. “Thank you for saving my library.”

Büber, flailing, eventually patted Thaler’s round back. “It wouldn’t have been right to let it burn. It’s an important place, Frederik. It’s all we have now.”

“Yes it is, and it shames me that I wasn’t here to help.” He showed no sign of letting go.

“We did what we did, and that’s the end of it.” Büber peeled the librarian off. “Introduce me to your colleague.”

“This is Mr Ullmann.” Ullmann found himself propelled forward. “Huntmaster Büber.”

“Max Ullmann, at your service, sir. My lord,” he added for Felix’s benefit.

“Do you understand what we want you to do?” asked Felix.

Ullmann screwed his face up, trying to remember. “You want me to cross the river, make my way to where Master Eckhardt is, find out who else is there and how he’s protected, then come back and report to you.”

Büber leant on a bookshelf. “You missed the part where you don’t get caught.”

Ullmann cleared his throat and looked at his boots. “And don’t get caught.”

“I’d go,” said Büber. “But most people know my face.” He rubbed ruefully at the latest scar on his cheek.

“I’d go myself,” said Thaler. “I am, however, sadly aware of my limitations.”

“While any one of us would go,” said Felix, “Fate seems to have cast you in this role, Mr Ullmann. Are you up to the task?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll do my very best for you.” He reached up and tugged at his hair. “I’ll come back with what you need to know.”

“Talk to Master Büber about the best way to get close, and the best way to get back.” Felix saw the boy in the man. Ullmann was only a few years older than him. Gods only knew if he’d make it to the end of the day, let alone to his next birthday. He pulled out his dagger and presented it, grip-first, to the usher.

Ullmann slowly took the grip, and stared at the mirrored surface of the blade. “My lord, I’m … honoured.”

“Not as honoured as I am, Mr Ullmann. Take it, and use it as you need.”

Büber took Ullmann to meet Nikoleta in the boathouse. And why not? The main house seemed deserted, and perhaps it was: the family who lived there would have been at Gerhard’s funeral, and probably their servants too. Anyone left behind would be eating their way through the larder and drinking the master’s wine cellar rather than daring to find out why no one had come home.

It was as safe as anywhere, and out of sight. Sophia’s warning about the Jews’ reaction to Nikoleta’s existence held true, and they had enough problems to cope with already without adding the prospect of driving the only militia they had into revolt.

Ullmann reminded him of a baby deer, all arms, legs and curiosity, and magnificently innocent.

Nikoleta sat cross-legged on the edge of the walkway, having positioned herself so that she could see the base of Goat Mountain through the boathouse’s river entrance. Only when he sat down next to her did he realise she could also see up as far as the White Tower.

“Who’s the boy?” she asked, glancing up.

“This is Max Ullmann, one of the library ushers.”

Ullmann abruptly grasped that he wasn’t being introduced to just anyone. She might not be wearing a long white robe, but the tattoos on her arms, neck and legs gave her away.

“Master Büber? I thought…”

“Yes. Not a word to anyone else. This is Mistress Nikoleta Agana, the last surviving hexmaster who can still do magic.”

Nikoleta got her feet underneath her and stood, holding on to Büber for support. Her hand stayed on his shoulder as she examined the usher.

“And what role do you have to play, Ullmann?”

“I’m … I’m a spy. I think. Master Büber, does the prince know about this?”

Büber looked up. “He wants the mistress to kill Eckhardt, having judged that we mundanes aren’t up to the task. He’s probably right. There aren’t enough of us, and one hexmaster’s plenty.”

“I have to get close to him first, Ullmann. Do you understand why?”

Ullmann met Nikoleta’s gaze. “Because you might only get one chance, and you need to make it count.”

“He’s not stupid, Peter. We could do a lot worse.” Nikoleta nodded. “You’re not invisible to magic like a hunter is, yet your aura doesn’t radiate like a Jew. An ordinary, decent pagan, am I right?”

“Very ordinary, Mistress.”

“It’s not an insult, Ullmann. Ordinary means you won’t stand out. Ordinary means you might make it back. I need specific information regarding Eckhardt – not just how he’s guarded, or who’s guarding him, especially if there’s an Italian sword-master hanging around him – but what he does and how he acts. That means you have to get yourself into a position where you can observe these things without anyone suspecting you.” She pushed her hand back through her curls. “Do you know what’ll happen to you if anyone guesses what you’re there for?”

“They’ll kill me?”

“Only if you’re lucky. I don’t know much about necromancy and precisely how Eckhardt takes a life and turns it into raw magic, but the little I do know tells me that it’s very likely to hurt. A lot.” She flashed him a smile. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

Ullmann swallowed hard. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Right. Now listen. He doesn’t know I’m coming for him. He doesn’t even know I exist. When I do come for him, what he’ll feel is a big knot of untamed fire getting closer. I need him alone, if possible, not because my power is weak, or that I have scruples about killing any number of mundanes, but because … why don’t you finish that thought, Mr Ullmann?”

“Because while you’re dealing with others apart from Master Eckhardt, what will he be doing?”

“I’m genuinely impressed. All my concentration needs to be on Eckhardt: he’s been a hexmaster for longer than I’ve been alive, and he’ll know all kinds of nuances that I don’t. The first contact between us is the most important. If I’m still alive after that, I can grind him down: his magic will eventually fail, whereas mine won’t.” She walked around Ullmann. “Get me my chance, and I’ll do the rest.”

“I’ll row you across the river and come with you as far as I can.” Büber stood up to untie the waiting boat. “I’ll bring you back, too.”

Ullmann nodded. His mouth had gone dry and rendered him speechless.

Büber scratched at his chin.

“No one is forcing you to do this, and no one’s going to think any less of you if you decide that it isn’t for you. Even after I’ve rowed you over and you’ve got out, you can still run in the opposite direction.”

Despite being drained of colour, Ullmann clambered unsteadily into the rowing boat, and waited.

“You’re a brave man, Max.” Büber turned to Nikoleta. “I don’t know when we’ll be back. Go up to the house and see if there’s any food left, but try not to be seen.”

She grabbed him by the collar and dragged his head down to meet hers. “I’m not an idiot, Peter.”

“There are too many things that can go wrong. I should see if I can pick Eckhardt off with my bow, or slip a knife between his ribs.”

“No you don’t.” Her breath was hot in his face.

“He won’t hear or see me coming.”

“Peter, no. He can do things you can’t imagine possible. I won’t take that risk.”

He tried to take a step back, but she had him off-balance. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said.

“But I can beg you not to do it, and know that you’ll listen to me.” She finished with a hard kiss, savage and tearing.

He came away with blood on his lips and pressed what were left of his fingertips against them to ease the soreness and sourness away. She walked out of the boathouse, and Büber climbed down into the boat opposite Ullmann.

He reached forward and closed the usher’s mouth for him. “It’s her way of telling me not to get involved in a magicians’ duel.” He slipped the rope off its iron ring and pushed at one of the jetty’s piles.

The boat drifted out and into the river. Ullmann was still staring at Büber.

“Look, lad. She’s … she’s not from round here.” He tried to think of the best way of explaining it to Ullmann. Her foreignness would excuse much. “They do things differently in the empire. And then she was closeted away with the Order for years. They did things differently there, too.”

He turned the boat and pointed the prow upstream, where he could keep an eye on the town. Ullmann twisted in his seat so that he could see as well.

“Where do you think Master Eckhardt will be?” he asked, finally recovering his voice.

“Difficult to say. He could be up at the White Tower. That’s what he’s used to, and Nikoleta tells me that hexmasters stick to their routines. On the other hand, that’s not where he showed himself last night: he came all the way down to the novices’ house, so he may be there. That would make more sense than having folk traipse up and down the mountain.”

“So I should start at the novices’ house?”

“If you think like that, you’re going to get yourself killed. You start as soon as we land.” Büber pulled hard on the oars. The boat was midstream, and exposed to anyone who might look their way. “Remember that. One slip-up and it might be over.”

Ullmann was suddenly apologetic, which annoyed Büber.

“I’m serious. I can’t say I’ve had much experience with sneaking around people, but I’ve had plenty crawling on my belly like a worm as I come up the windward side of some beast or other. I’ll get you as close as I can without us having to break cover, and we’ll decide what’s best then. Unnecessary risks – in any job – are stupid. And you’re not stupid, are you Mr Ullmann?”