Tarah Woodblade (14 page)

Molly kept her eyes on the elf as he left, smiling with her teeth clamped shut. “Oh they threaten, they threaten. Always they threaten.” She turned her gaze to Arcon. “You come with me, mage.”

“
Finally
.”

Arcon sighed with relief. “So you gave the scholar my message?”

She inclined her head slightly. “He must have been quite intrigued by your message to see you today. He has been quite busy.”

“Then I am honored,” Arcon said. “How may I ever thank you?”

“Perhaps a way can be found,” she replied, arching one eyebrow before turning and walking away. “In the meantime, follow me. If we don’t hurry, he may turn his thoughts elsewhere.”

Arcon hurried after her, “Of course, Steward Molly.”

“
Keep sharp. This gnome will be crafty if I have correctly guessed his focus
,” Mellinda reminded him. “
You do realize you may have to . . . dally with this steward later, don’t you
?”

I have ‘dallied’ with far worse
, Arcon reminded her as he followed the steward through the door at the back of the atrium.
And I’m ready for the gnome . . . I think
.

Molly led him down a corridor decorated differently than the front of the residence. The book shelves were much sparser here, the halls instead lined with suits of armor and portraits of great leaders and scholars of the past. Here and there strange old weapons were mounted on the walls. If Molly hadn’t been walking so fast, Arcon would have stopped to stare at some of it. After a few turns, they arrived at the door to the scholar’s office.

“This is where I leave you,” Molly said, standing in front of the door. “I must warn you that Scholar Aloysius can be quite abrupt. If you begin to prattle, he will send you off.”

“I understand,” Arcon said.

“Do you?” She shook her head at him. “Have you known any gnome scholars, mage?”

Arcon thought for a moment. “I knew librarian Vincent at the Mage School and I have met several gnomes since coming to Alberri.”

She gave him a brief snort. “Scholar Aloysius is not like other gnomes.”

“
This is good
.”

Arcon wasn’t so sure. Something about Molly’s expression had caused a nervous knot to well up inside him. “I will be . . . concise.”

“See that you do. The two men he keeps inside are quite adept at tossing out the unwanted.” The middle-aged steward took a step towards him and traced one manicured finger along his jaw. “If this goes well for you I’ll be seeing you later.”

She walked on down the hallway and Arcon swallowed. He looked at the ornately carved wooden door in front of him. The carved scene was of marching armies and banners. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a large beefy man wearing steward’s robes. A wide red sash crossed his chest and there was an sheathed sword attached to his waist. He gave Arcon a brief glance and beckoned him inward.

“
A red sash
,” Mellinda said excitedly. “
And he’s wearing it openly. This is good for us
!”

Arcon didn’t see how. Gnome stewards were supposed to wear green or black. Red sashed stewards were supposed to be a myth.

Another human came from his left and stood in front of him. He was of a smaller build than the other stewards, but his face was harder and he seemed more dangerous. He frowned at Arcon. “Wait. You are using magic. Drop any spells if you wish to enter the scholar’s presence.”

“
Another red sash! And this one has mage sight
!”

“Of course,” Arcon said and he let his magic fade. His cloak faded back to brown and Arcon’s hair became its original blond. “Is that better?”

The steward narrowed his eyes, but gave a brief nod and Arcon stepped into the room.

Unlike the rest of the residence, Scholar Aloysius’ office was decorated in stone. The floor was polished marble and green pillars sat at the corners of the room. The walls on Arcon’s right and left were covered with weapons and scepters and various other items, each one with a small placard underneath. He shifted to mage sight and saw a soft glow of elemental magic around most of them.

Mellinda chuckled.

At the back of the room was a row of bookshelves made from black onyx and in front of them was an enormous desk of dark mahogany. Scholar Aloysius sat behind the desk, his eyes perusing a scroll that he held in veiny hands.

The gnome was hunched over, but he had a youthful look to him as far as gnomes go. He had a full head of glistening black hair and his large ears only drooped slightly. As Arcon moved to stand before him, he rolled up the scroll and turned his eyes on the mage. He didn’t wear spectacles and his eyes were sharp and focused.

“Mage Arcon,” the gnome said, gesturing with the scroll in his hand. His voice was deep and clear. “You have been patiently waiting to see me for some time now, I hear.”

“It was worth every moment, Scholar,” Arcon said with a bow.

“I was quite surprised you used your real name when you put in the request,” Aloysius said, his dark eyes gauging Arcon’s response.

“
Go on. As you rehearsed
,” Mellinda prompted.

“I wanted you to look up my credentials, sir,” he replied.

The gnome raised a trimmed eyebrow. “Did you now? A mage on the run? A fugitive from your own school and a known associate of the deceased dark wizard Ewzad Vriil? I could have met you with the Homeland Guard.”

Arcon cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know that I could be useful to someone with your particular focus. I did some research on you as well, you see.”
Be right. Be right
.

“
Stop questioning me and focus
,” Mellinda reprimanded.

“Useful to me? I am a high scholar of house Mur. Your very presence in this room could sully my reputation. And . . .” Aloysius unrolled the scroll and gestured to the flowery writing on the parchment. “I understand that you are in quite a bit of trouble with the Night Clan. It says here that they sent a basilisk after you.”

He knows a lot
. “True, sir, but I have taken care of that problem.”

“By creating such a commotion that half the capitol’s wizards were called out after you?” The gnome waved his hand dismissively. “Far too noisy for my tastes.”

“My hand was forced, sir,” Arcon replied. “But might I point out that the mere fact I killed the basilisk is proof of my usefulness?”

Aloysius pursed his lips thoughtfully. “True, killing such a beast is nasty business and your survival is commendable. But why would I want someone with that much trouble around me?”

“We both know the dark wizards wouldn’t dare go after you, Scholar. Besides, as I told your steward earlier . . .” Arcon reached into his shirt and opened the compartment. The red-sashed stewards at the door saw the movement and started towards him.

“
Don’t
!” Mellinda shouted.

“Because I have these,” Arcon said, extending his hand. The Rings of Stardeon glistened in his palm.

The stewards grabbed Arcon’s arms, jerking him back. The rings nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Stop!” Aloysius demanded. The stewards stopped pulling on Arcon, but they didn’t let go of him.

The scholar stood from behind the desk, his narrow seven-foot-frame towering over the mage. His dark eyes gleamed down at Arcon and the mage noticed that the gnome’s posture was not that of a dusty bookworm, but that of a person used to command.

“Why show this to me?” the scholar asked, his gaze focusing on the glittering rings. “You are no fool. You know that my focus is items of power. I could easily take them from you.”

Arcon didn’t let his fear touch his face.
You had better be right about him
.

“
He’s wrong. You are a fool
,” Mellinda replied and her voice sounded worried. “
And I am right, but there is something strange with him that I can’t figure out
.”

Her hesitation was uncharacteristic which unnerved him, but he plowed on anyway. “Because simply possessing an item of power isn’t enough for you. You’re a scholar. A gnome that wants to leave his mark on the world. You could take the Rings of Stardeon, but what’s groundbreaking about that? What you want is to make an item of your own.” He paused for effect. “You want to be the next Scholar Abernathy.”

“Abernathy?” The gnome’s face twitched and his eyes became filled with anger. “You know nothing about me, mage. Abernathy was little more than a book sniffer that got lucky. I am so much more.”

“
Oh, this is better than I hoped. Look at his gaze. Look at his stance!”
Mellinda’s voice was filled with excitement again. “
Listen to me.
Get down! Bow your head to him
!” Arcon hesitated. “
Now, you fool
!”

Arcon did so, ripping his arms free from the stewards’ grip and smacking his knees to the marble floor.
Why
?

“
This is no regular gnome
.” She shoved ancient memories into his mind and Arcon understood.

Scholar Aloysius walked around his desk and moved to stand over the mage. He stood there for a moment and Arcon said nothing. When the gnome finally spoke there was a hint of pleasure in his voice. “You grovel? Are you so desperate for my money?”

“I don’t want a job, great one. I just want to serve at your side.” Arcon bent lower and pressed his forehead against the cool stone. The stewards grabbed his arms. “I, Arcon, mage trained at the Dremaldrian Mage School, and former servant of King Ewzad Vriil pledge myself to your service.”

While the scholar pondered this, the stewards pulled at Arcon. He resisted, struggling to stay prostrate before the gnome. He tore free from their hands again, smacking his head on the floor. His vision swam as they pulled on him again.

“Stop!” Aloysius commanded and the stewards released him. “I am finding myself amused. Tell me, Mage Arcon. Why would you pledge your service to me, a scholar?”

Arcon did not remove his head from the marble. “Because one day you will rule this land.”

Chapter Seven

“Come, you stupid mule!” Djeri said, fuming as he tugged on the animal’s lead. The mule didn’t want to keep up with their quick steps. The stableman had assured them that the beast was well trained and Tarah could tell that it was. It didn’t wander. It obediently followed their lead, but for some reason it seemed determined to plod along at a wagon’s pace.

“Still griping about that dumb animal, dwarf?” Tarah replied, several steps ahead of him. They had been on the road for nearly a full day and grumbling about their traveling companion seemed to be the dwarf’s chief source of entertainment. Tarah wasn’t sure what to think of him yet. He was so unlike other dwarves she’d met. “It ain’t gonna dissipate into nothingness from the sheer force of your complaints, you know.”

“Dissipate into nothingness?” The dwarf laughed. “You puzzle me, Tarah. Most of the time you talk like some back-woods girl, but every once in a while you come out with a turn of phrase that throws me off. Where do you get that talk from?”

“I might be back-woods raised, but Tarah Woodblade ain’t uneducated, Dwarf,” she replied, her brow wrinkled in irritation. She glanced back at him. “And if we’re talking about strange, what about you? You talk straighter than any dwarf I ever met.”

“Straighter?” he said, one eyebrow raised. He had decided to wear a half-helm for the journey, but she had seen a full helm strapped to his pack on the mule. Djeri’s travel armor looked well-worn and had been painted a muddy green. As the dwarf had promised, the armor made very little noise as he walked. The enormous two-handed mace he wore rattled in its sheath from time to time but that was it.

“Yeah. You talk all high falootin’ like a human lord,” she explained.

“Oh. So you expect dwarves to sound uncouth.” His statement was loaded, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Tarah was confused. “No. Not uncouth. Just . . . like folks, you know?”

“Do you know many dwarves?” he asked.

“Of course I know dwarfs,” she said with a snort. “How could I be from this area and not know dwarfs? I’ve worked for dwarfs out of Wobble lots of times.” The statement was mostly true. She had worked for dwarves before, but this was her first time partnering with one. It had nothing to do with them being dwarves, though. She avoided working alongside anyone as a general rule no matter what their race was.

Dwarves can be rough around the edges, but they usually make great companions
, her papa said.

Dwarfs are greedier than most. You’re better off working alone
, Grampa Rolf’s voice disagreed.
A salesman often finds that his partners are more fond of the money than they are of them
.

I’m not sure how your salesman talk helps in this case, Grampa
, Tarah replied. Aloud she said, “So what makes you different from the other dwarfs I’ve met, Djeri?”

“Good, you said my name right,” the dwarf remarked, then lapsed into silence for a moment as he mulled over what to say next. “I suppose I just have a fondness for proper speech. I don’t see any need to muddy up my language just to fit in with my peers-. Come on, you no-good turd-machine!” he snapped, jerking on the lead as the mule slowed down once more.

“You can blame your buddy Riveren for that one,” Tarah reminded him for the third time that day. “I didn’t want to bring any animal on this mission.”

“Neither did I!” Djeri argued.

Tarah shrugged. The dwarf had argued against bringing the mule along, but Riveren had insisted. Evidently Wizard Valtrek had specified in the contract that they take this particular mule with them. Tarah didn’t understand why. Sure, it allowed them to bring more supplies along, but they were perfectly capable of finding their own food along the way. On top of that, there was something strange about the animal that Tarah couldn’t put her finger on.

Best to be wary when dealing with wizards
, Grampa Rolf said.
There is money to be made but whenever a wizard’s willing to pay, they’re gonna have some broad plan that they’re not gonna tell you about
.