The Demon's Blade (13 page)

"Do you not remember me Tobin?" Darien asked as he pulled back the hood of his cloak.

The old dwarf raised an eyebrow and looked up at the half-elf before him curiously. At first, the dwarf seemed not to notice anything. It was only when his gaze looked up far enough to see the pommel of the sword just barely visible over his visitor’s left shoulder, that his eyes suddenly brightened and his manner changed quickly to one of friendly familiarity.

"Ah yes," Tobin replied. The old dwarf’s voice was worn, deeper than most, but with unmistakable kindness, and a wisdom that only comes when great age is combined with great intellect and a lifetime of study. "Darien, my boy, still alive, I see."

"For now, at least. Death is always just a step behind me."

Tobin smiled at first, but then poked his head out his door and looked to the right and left down the hallway. "Come in. We must speak. I take it this young man is with you?"

"He is. I have unintentionally drawn him into my… situation."

"Say no more," Tobin interrupted. "He may enter as well then, and his name is?"

"I'm Jerris," the lad spoke up for himself.

"Then a warm greeting to you, Jerris." Tobin smiled and bowed. Jerris bowed uncomfortably back. "Come in, and welcome."

The inside of Tobin's residence was filled with shelves of books. Most of them looked to be ancient beyond the measure of men. A great many were written in languages that neither Darien nor his young companion had ever seen or heard spoken. Books also littered the floor, strewn about the disorganized dwarf’s residence. The two visitors took care not to step on them as they followed their host through the shelves and finally into an open room with a low stone table in the center. The table was carved directly from the rock, as were so many other things in the dwarf city. The various shelves and cabinets, filled with black iron pots, pans, forks, and other cooking implements, made it clear that this room served as kitchen as well as dining room. Against the right hand wall was a line of several purplish gray chairs, made of some type of unknown metal. Tobin pulled three out and set them around the table.

"Have a seat then," the old dwarf said warmly. Tobin's chairs were clearly not made with half-elves in mind, as both Darien and Jerris had to bend their legs quite awkwardly to the side in order to sit in the dwarf sized chairs. "I do apologize for the uncomfortable accommodations. I don't get many human visitors, or half-elves for that matter."

"Actually, we're both half-elves," Jerris interrupted, lowering his cloak to show his telltale ears.

"Really," Tobin marveled. "One half-elf is rare enough in these parts. Truly, the Greatfather of Mountains has blessed me with this day, to see two half-elves in Vorog of all places.

"Thanks, I guess," Jerris replied sheepishly while his companion chuckled slightly at the lad’s awkwardness.

"What is it you wanted to tell me, Tobin?" Darien asked. "Unless I miss my guess, someone has already come looking for me."

"Perceptive as always I see. Yes, and more than one."

"More than one?" Darien asked, furrowing his brow. "You mean two different people have asked about me, or the same one twice?"

"Bah, open your ears and pay attention, young whelp," Tobin scolded. "I said more than ONE, not more than once. I meant precisely what I said and nothing else."

"My apologies, Tobin," Darien replied, "but I know my enemy better than you do. The man after me is named Avirosa. He likes to do all his interrogations personally. He mistrusts his servants, and not without reason, as his skill far surpasses theirs. It would be… unusual for him to send one of them to do any interrogating. Did the second visitor ask as many questions as the first, or did he just ask if you had seen me since your first visit?"

"She, actually," Tobin replied. "And she didn't seem to be working with the earlier fellow, and that is just as well. I hope not to ever see that first fellow again. He came in the dead of winter last year asking about you. He was a thin, spindly man, with dirty white hair. Had he not walked into my residence here, I would have thought him a corpse."

"That would be Avirosa. You didn't lie to him, did you? That would have been… unwise."

"Oh no, I told him the exact truth, and all he wanted of it," Tobin pulled a pipe from somewhere in his robes, and tapped it gently on the table. "I told him that you had been in my store a few times, and that I hadn't seen you for nine months. I told him flat that you weren't fool enough to tell me where you were going and you could be halfway across the world to anywhere by now. I also said I knew who you really were, and that I knew about that weapon you carry." Tobin fixed his eyes on the Demon Sword for a few moments, then shut his eyes, shivering slightly. Jerris looked over at the old dwarf and then at the sword with a confused and curious look. "My apologies, Darien. I did not wish to aid your enemies, but that man nigh stopped my heart. His eyes… so cold, like there's nothing behind them."

"No apology is necessary," Darien replied in a conciliatory tone. "You would have gained nothing by attempting to resist him, nor would it have been any help to me. He would have gotten the information he wanted anyway, and might have done you harm. If he thought you my friend, he might have taken you captive as an attempt to draw me out. He possesses a devious and cruel mind. He may well return. I would not hold you in any less esteem if you wish us to be gone. I have already dragged enough innocent people into my difficulties." He looked over at Jerris as he spoke.

"Hmm, no I think not," Tobin chuckled, lit his pipe, and took a long draw from it before continuing. "Frightening he may be, but fear only goes so far. I have enough friends of my own, and he would find it difficult, magic or not, to attempt any hostility here. You'll understand if I inform certain people the true identity of this man, and what he is doing, once you're on your way, that is."

"That would be wise, but be on your guard all the same,” Darien cautioned. “Be discreet, and you may as well say that I intimidated you into helping me and letting me get away. I don't intend to return to this city again. Now tell me about this woman that was asking about me."

"Hmm, well, I cannot help but be somewhat disappointed that I will not see you again," Tobin leaned back and let out a sigh, then blew a ring of smoke that drifted lazily up toward the ceiling. "You are perhaps the most interesting fellow who has come through my doors, and you play a fine game of chess. I regret that I will not have a chance to know you better. You deserve a better fate than you have received, I think, but that could be said of a great many of us." Tobin fell silent for a while, as if his mind had suddenly drifted far away.

"Tobin, about the woman." Darien coaxed the dwarf out of his silent contemplation.

"Oh, yes," Tobin said, returning to the conversation. "She came in about two weeks ago. She didn't seem at all like that Avirosa character. It was obvious from her clothes and her speech that she came from somewhere far in the south. She didn't seem to know that she wasn't the first person asking me questions. She asked many of the same things that the ghostly fellow did."

"What did she look like?" Darien said. The Master had a few female assassins, though they were mostly used in situations that called for the use of seduction. Darien could think of none that the Master would send against him, though it remained possible that the Master had trained new ones.

"Well, she was quite unusual. She was tall and strong, more than one would usually expect of the fairer gender. I might not have marked her a woman at all had she not taken off her helmet. She had fair features, bronze skin, and long blond hair, but she was tall and somewhat broader than most women, rather absurd looking, actually, as if someone had stuck a woman's head on the body of some knight.” Tobin paused for a few moments, and tapped his pipe on the table again. “I suppose it was the armor. She wore shiny steel plate armor. It looked heavy and I couldn’t believe any woman could bear the weight of it. None of it looked to be of dwarf make. It was smooth and polished to a shine, for all the good that does. All that shine won't stop an arrow like good dwarf black iron. I have seen the like often enough. When those Golden Shield mages come in from the west on their way to Mandala Fortress, they are always escorted by knights wearing armor like that.”

"I see. Was she alone, and did the armor bear any markings?"

"Obviously she was alone," Tobin said in exasperation. "Don't you think I would have mentioned that? And no, the armor didn't have any markings that I could see."

What a strange new puzzle this is, Darien thought. The Master's assassins would not be wearing full armor when operating in foreign lands. It might be a knight from the Golden Shield, but they always operate in pairs, and their armor is usually well marked to identify them as members. It could be some amateur bounty hunter that just stumbled upon information stirred up by Avirosa's interrogations, but there’s no way to know for certain and nothing I can do about it anyway. I need to see what Tobin can tell us about the book, and then get moving.

"Any idea who she was?" Tobin continued, slowly puffing on his pipe once more.

"None that are particularly good. It doesn't really change anything anyway. Just another hazard to watch for. Now, will you take a look at this book?"

"Oh yes," Tobin replied in a surprised tone, "I had forgotten that's why you came in. Let's see it then."

Darien motioned to his young companion, who pulled out the book, and set it on the stone table. Tobin looked at it with a skeptical expression.

"Well, the lettering is ancient elvish, but this book doesn't look like anything of any importance. It looks like no more than some journal, but let's look inside, shall we." Tobin opened the leather cover and began turning the pages, slowly at first, then more quickly, with practiced care not to damage the fragile pages. "As I thought, the letters are elvish, but the language is not. It is written in the common tongue using elvish letters instead of modern ones. The elves used this tactic to keep their knowledge, such as it was, to themselves, long after they had forgotten their own language. This is fortunate, since I haven't tried to read anything in that language for over three hundred years." Tobin continued on through the pages, hmm-ing and hmph-ing as he went. "It's just a record of the history of an elf village. It looks like they continued to add pages as the years passed."

"Yes, that was what I was told by the former owner," Darien said, "but there is another section at the end. It looks subtly different from the rest of the book, and I was told it was an ancient prophecy."

Tobin then turned to the end of the book. He turned the last couple of pages over and back several times, his eyes gradually widening in apparent surprise. Then he leaned in to examine the book more closely, furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes as he inspected the pages. He let out an occasional 'hmm' and 'ah' as he continued to study, but said nothing, and started puffing more quickly on his pipe.

"What is it? Is it written in ancient elvish?" Jerris asked. Darien frowned at the young man’s impatient question.

"Just a moment," Tobin went over to a cabinet against the far wall, fished around in it, and produced a magnifying glass. He then returned to his inspection, tool in hand. Several more minutes passed, and Tobin's face began to change again. His brow relaxed and his eyes did as well. "Astounding! Absolutely astounding."

"Well what does it say?" Jerris asked with anticipation clear upon his face.

"Oh, I can't tell you what it says," Tobin replied. "As far as I know, there's no living elf, man, or dwarf that could." A look of anguish passed across Jerris' face, and he hung his head down.

"What do you mean?" This time it was Darien who asked the question. "Even if you can't read elven, there are surely others who can."

"I'm afraid not," Tobin replied confidently. "You see, this isn't written in elvish either."

"Well then what is it?"

"I have not seen a document like this since I was still an apprentice," Tobin replied, his eyes wide with the wonder of discovery. "This is indeed a prophecy, a very old, and I suspect a very important one. This is a direct recording from a great oracle, or at least a copy of one."

"What does that mean?" Jerris asked eagerly.

"This is from a time that is only spoken of in legend. According to legend, there was a time unimaginably long ago, when all the races of the world were united in a war with the formless demons. The war was eventually lost, and the demons ruled the world for ten thousand years. During this time, almost every record from before their victory was destroyed, but the elves managed to preserve some of their most important wisdom. They particularly went to great lengths to protect their prophecies," Tobin explained with a knowing smile upon his face.

"That still doesn't explain why we can't read it." Darien said. "Come to the point. We have much to do and cannot afford to linger too long here."

"Yes, yes, I apologize, but what you have brought me is, to a scribe and scholar, a treasure more valuable than all the gold in all the mountains of the world. This is written in fae speech,"

"But the faeries have no language," Darien said, "They never had one."

"You are almost correct," Tobin said with a sly smile. "The faeries have never had any written language. Being creatures of the water, writing is somewhat impractical for them. Yet they did have a spoken language. The elves learned it themselves so that they could speak to them. Many of the faeries possessed the gift of prophecy, and those with the greatest gifts became oracles. The waters brought them visions, and they would speak them, while the elves transcribed the words onto special parchments that would endure far longer than ordinary paper. This is one of those transcriptions, or perhaps a copy that they made later."