Hamilton Swoop, Wizard of Green Ridge (22 page)

Those following the horseless cart seemed to agree as they were enveloped by the smoke from the cart.

Once the caravan passed, Hamilton invoked his spells and soon they were again racing ahead.

Three hours later, he slowed Bethesda for the last time on the trip as they approached the outskirts of the royal city. The city proper filled the horizon ahead. Hamilton marveled at the multi-story buildings, towers of alabaster and glass and paved roads. And, as they got closer, Hamilton saw the top of the Royal Palace. It was huge. He shook his head at the amount of money that must have been poured into it. “So this is where city taxes go."

As he entered the city, a tavern, the Black Diamond, beckoned to him. Though he wanted to find Thalia, his legs felt like rubber and his backside felt bruised. He dismounted and tied Bethesda to the hitching post in front of the establishment. Between the street and the door to the tavern, he heard a scream.

He looked up and down the street trying to find its source. Nothing was obvious and the other people on the street, more than in Central City, seemed oblivious to it.

The scream came again, louder and more protracted this time. Hamilton realized why no one else was reacting. The sound was in his head and the voice was Thalia's.

I hear you! I'm coming! Where are you?

There was no response.

Panic crept into his soul. His forehead dampened with a cold sweat. He tried to contact Thalia again, but though, with the aide of his wand, he could still sense her, there was no response to his calls.

He pulled his wand from his belt and swung it in a wide arc. His search spell locked his arm pointing diagonally to the southwest. He untied Bethesda and remounted.

I could do with some water,
complained the horse.

"Sorry, boy. Not now."

With his wand outstretched before him, Hamilton navigated the streets of Drayene. It became apparent that in a rectangular city, the diagonal was a rough direction to follow. Finally, twisted around and lost, Hamilton stopped at a tavern that sported a water trough.
It's about time!
Bethesda bent to drink.

Hamilton entered the tavern to get his bearings. The barman ambled over to where Hamilton perched on a stool. “What'll it be?"

"A bottle of Pinkys, and a bit of information."

The barman brought the bottle over. “What kind of information?"

Hamilton took a drink. “What is that way?” pointing in the direction he had been traveling.

The barman looked at Hamilton and replied, “The gents’ toilet."

"No. I mean, if I keep going that direction, in Drayene, where will I end up?"

"Oh. Well I suppose that would depend on how far you go. Coupla blocks'll take you to the magistrate's office. On t'other hand, if you was to go a couple a’ miles or so, say, y'd end up in the Bums."

"The Bums?"

"Trust me, brother, y’ don't want ta go there. Worst part of town, it is, sir. They's people there what would steal yer eyeballs right out da the sockets, they would. All sorts a riffraff. Even the coppers steer clear of it lessen a bunch of ‘em go in tagether."

Hamilton took another pull on his Pinkys and then placed the bottle down on the bar. He took a deep breath and then asked, “What's the fastest route to get there?"

The barman shook his head. “Yer makin’ a big mistake."

Hamilton remained firm, “The route?"

The barman ran a rag over the bar top. “Yer funeral. Make a left two blocks down. Go about a half dozen blocks ‘til y’ comes to Last Chance Drive and make a right. Then jest stay on Last Chance. Y'll probably smell the Bums forin’ y’ get there. Officially, the section of town is Lakeside. Sounds nice, I s'pose, but Smokey Lake's the end of the sewer lines. Like I said, y'll smell it ‘fore y’ see it."

"Thanks.” Hamilton grabbed a handful of mud nuts from a bowl on the bar. “What do I owe you?"

The barman sighed, “The stout's a half royal. Seein’ as how you refused the ad-vice, I can't charge y’ for that."

Hamilton finished his drink and slid a one royal coin across the bar. “Thanks.” He headed for the door.

The barman called to Hamilton's back, “Luck to ya, mister. Yer gonna need it."

Hamilton untied his horse and remounted. “Feeling better?"

Much.

The tavern keeper's instructions were good as was the route. Soon Hamilton made the turn onto Last Chance and was headed toward what the barman had called the Bums. After riding over a mile on the road, Hamilton noticed the quality of the buildings slipping. Soon the buildings in obvious disrepair outnumbered the more substantial ones.

While Drayene was stacked with wealth and power and had a regal flavor, there still remained the darker underside which was the part of town that Hamilton now found himself riding through. Green Ridge, on the other hand, was mostly dark underside so that the ruined buildings and squalor about did not bother him. But, as he grew closer to Smokey Lake, the smell did. Like a million sewers opening at once. He now regretted the warmer weather which seemed to spread the stench like a rotting blanket over the land. Even Bethesda slowed his pace and became skittish about continuing. Finally, the horse just stopped, refusing to proceed.

"Come on, horse, move.” Hamilton still held his wand as a direction finder.

No can do. I've been in stalls that haven't been cleaned for a month, but I've never smelled anything like this! You want to keep going? Fine. I'll wait for you here.

Hamilton knew that you could lead a horse from a burning barn if you cover its eyes, but he couldn't figure out how to cover the horse's nose. And besides, he didn't have the time to talk the horse into moving. “Have it your way, horse.” He tied Bethesda to a post and then placed a protect spell on him. “I'll get back as soon as I can. If anyone gives you any trouble, just call for me."

Armed with his wand, he ventured into the Bums. He was grateful as he traced the gutterless road that the wand directed him away from the odiferous lake. This place, in many ways, looked a lot like Green Ridge. The people that he passed watched him. No one spoke a word as he passed. He set protect spells on himself and sent his little orbiting spell out to watch out for him. He was pleased that the wand increased the range of the spell though the increased power returned many negative feelings that weren't even directed at him. No one here seemed very happy.

There was a crash behind him and Hamilton spun to see a man sprawl, back first, into the muddy street. Pieces of glass accompanied him from the window he had just passed through. A thug, indistinguishable from the Green Ridge variety, burst out of the door next to the shattered window and proceeded to fight with the fallen man who had just gotten back on his feet.

He turned his back on the fracas and continued following the wand. He got another thirty feet when the orbiting spell warned him of trouble. Trouble turned out to be a man a few inches taller than Hamilton and about twice as big. “What cha got there?” the big man rumbled. He blocked his path and didn't appear to be the type of man that would give way.

"Oh, this thing? It's a stick."

"Yeah? Well this is a knife,” said the man as he brought his arm from behind his back. The blade loomed large, well used and very unsanitary, sporting remnants of previous victims.

"You want to trade?” asked Hamilton.

"Funny. Very funny. Why don't you just give me your little stick and everything else you're carryin'?” He advanced toward Hamilton.

"I think not.” This time, when he summoned his heat spell and directed it at the knife, the results were different than when he had used it in Green Ridge. Instead of heating the blade, the knife flashed into molten metal.

The thief's nerves were working a bit slower than they should have. His eyes took in the results for at least a full second before his brain notified him of the pain. He stared at his smoking hand. The big man screamed. Then he ran toward a horse trough a ways down the block shaking his hand to dislodge the drops of molten steel.

Hamilton watched him run and then looked down at the darkonium wand. He decided he'd have to be more careful with his magic.

Then he re-invoked the search spell holding the wand out from his body. His arm locked pointing at a two-story building across the street from where he stood. He slid his feet several yards to the left and then to the right. His arm remained pointed at the building. The building's windows were broken and the door, hung open.

He stood on the stoop of the building not quite sure what to do. He reviewed the possibilities. The first was that Thalia was in trouble and needed his help. The second was that this was a trap and Thalia had been taken as bait. The third possibility, which Hamilton fought against believing, was that Thalia was willing bait and part of a plot against him. He took a deep breath and gagged on the smell. After recovering, he rubbed his missing beard as he searched for the best way in. His nerves were on end. He had never been a fighter and he did not look forward to playing hero. On the other hand, his feelings for Thalia drove him on.

Hamilton waved his wand toward the two-story ruin invoking a detect spell, and frowned. He did, however, take notice of a watcher spell guarding the place. Any magic entering the building would be detected. That spell, he sensed, only covered the upper portion of the building, but the only other way in were the two basement windows and they were too small for him to crawl through. Hamilton looked at his wand and frowned. He could deactivate the spells that protected him, but there was no way he could remove the magic from his wand. He cursed under his breath as he moved away from the entrance. He started searching the copious refuse in the street looking for something to help him gain access to the building.

It took him ten minutes to find what he was looking for. A pile of newspapers tied up with a piece of twine. He untied the papers and took the twine back over to the building. He tied a small rock to one end of the twine and the other end to his wand. Then he walked around the structure looking for just the right window. He found what he was looking for on the side of the building, a broken window that opened to the cellar.

He knelt beside the window making sure that no one would see him from inside. A diffuse light emanated from within. Very slowly, he lowered the rock on the string into the frame while making sure that the shards of glass still remaining in it would not cut the string. When the twine went slack, he knew that the stone had reached the sill. Reluctantly, he placed his wand on the ground and then covered it with some trash lest some passerby might spot it.

Before entering he made a search pass at the building. The spell returned much less than he had expected. He could tell only that Thalia was there, somewhere in the cellar, and that there were two other presences in the building.

Frustrated, he rushed back around to the front of the building and made a magical pass at himself. Once more he was the old man he'd been in Green Ridge. An odd piece of timber became a crude crutch and some old rags became a bandage for his leg.

Thus disguised, he marched up the stairs to the front door of the building and knocked hard.

There was no response. He knocked again and the door opened a bit wider from the force of his blow. It was dark within. Hamilton pushed the door all the way open and entered. He passed the shell of magic that protected the building, which didn't so much as burp and Hamilton entered. “Hello!” he cried. “Is anybody here?” He stepped farther into the room.

A floor board creaked beneath his foot. The room smelled musty, but any other smells were masked by the stench from the lake. “Hello!” he shouted again, this time with less enthusiasm.

A body stepped out of the darkness. Hamilton tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The body moved into the light coming from the doorway. A short man appeared, dressed in shabby clothes, wearing glasses and carrying a club. “Who, the hell, are you?” he asked.

"Sherman, Jedah Sherman, from the Magistrate's office. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"You don't look like a magistrate."

"I'm not a magistrate. What I said was I'm from the Magistrate's office. Now, again, who are you and what are you doing here? This building is listed as property of the city."

"Quack."

"You a doctor?"

"No. My name's Duck, Arnold Duck, but everyone calls me Quack. I live here. You want to try to make me leave?"

"Frankly, Mr. Duck, I don't care what you do. Stay or leave, it's up to you. Do I look like a copper? My job's not enforcement. I'm just here to check this place out, specifically the foundation. After I've finished here, I've got another dozen buildings to go through today. So, if you will just permit me to do my job, I'll be gone in just a few minutes."

"What'a ya have to do?"

"Check the foundation ... that's in the basement."

Duck's expression showed that he had no idea what Hamilton was talking about.

"The foundation is what the building is sitting on. If it's intact, the building can be renovated."

"And if it ain't?"

"Then they'll probably flatten it, but that won't be for a while, if ever. You know how bureaucracy works. Make a plan and then shelve it. Still, it gives me a livin’ if you can call the pittance they pay me a livin'."

"Know what cha mean,” agreed Duck. “I worked for the water department for three years and never got a raise. The cheap bastards."

"Yeah, well then you know what it's like. Which way to the basement?"

"Down."

"Cute. How do I get there?"

The short man looked worried for a moment. “Wait here. I'll go down and get the lights on. Won't take more ‘n a minute or so.” Duck exited through a door in the back of the room. Hamilton heard his footsteps descending a staircase.

He got down on his knees and then put his ear against the wooden floor. From below, he heard, “...some clerk from the City. Says he has to check out the foundation. Said it'll only take a minute."

"So what am I supposed to do with the girl? Kill her now?” said another, deeper voice.