The Wiz Biz (26 page)

Toth-Set-Ra was still chuckling when he reached the door of the chantry.
Fool me, will you? We shall see who is the fool in the end. For I tell you Wiz, or Sparrow, or whatever your true name is, you are as much in my power as if it were you and not that red-haired bitch I hold fast.

###

Far to the north on a crag above the shores of the Freshened Sea three gargoyles stared forever South, testing the wind, sifting the whispers borne to them and sending on what they heard.

###

“It goes well, Sparrow.” It was not a question. Shiara sat on the bench, pale and calm as a winter’s dawn while Wiz paced the room, muttering in a way that had nothing to do with magic. He paused to glance once more into the bowl of water on the rude table between them.

“We’re shaking them good and proper,” he confirmed. “I can’t interpret everything, but there are fires and earthquakes all over the area. Part of the City of Night’s wall is down and a couple of towers have already slid into the harbor.” He smiled. “We’ve just about ruined their whole, day. Now if only . . .”

Shiara nodded. “I know Sparrow. Fortuna grant us this one final boon.”

The crystal contrivance atop the ruined tower sparkled and flashed with the magical force of the messages arriving from the south.

###

Deep in her cell, Moira didn’t know what was going on, but she was increasingly certain it wasn’t being done to frighten her. Even this far under the earth she could hear occasional explosions, faint and muffled but audible nonetheless. Twice, groups of goblin soldiers tore by her cell in clattering, shouting masses. Once something huge and foul and slithering whuffed up the corridor while she pressed against the slimy rock wall and prayed to the depths of her soul that the thing would not notice her. Even the vermin seemed to have gone into hiding in the crannies and under the piles of rotting straw.

First the demon with the glowing blue eye and now this. What could it possibly mean?

Moira didn’t hope, for hope had long since burned out of her. But she felt a stirring. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good for her captors and misfortune to them was as much as she dared wish for.

###

With a faint “pop” an Emac appeared in front of Wiz, so close he almost stumbled over the demon in his pacing.

“We have found her, Master! RDsquaresquare has found her.”

“Thank God! Where?”

“Underground, Master, far and deep underground. The coordinates are . . .”

Wiz waved the small brown demon to silence. “Show me in the bowl!”

The demon removed the quill from behind his ear and dipped the point in the water. Ink flowed from the pen, turning the clear water black and then shimmering as the image formed. Wiz looked intently at it and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Have we got a good enough fix?”

The Emac cocked his bald brown head and his huge ears quivered as he listened to something unhearable. “Yes, Master. We can come within a few cubits of the place.”

“Then come with me.” Wiz strode to the door, grabbing his oak staff and wrapping his cloak tighter as he stepped into the outdoor chill.

“Wait, Lord.”

Wiz turned and saw Donal and Kenneth arrayed for battle. Their mail hauberks hung to their knees and their greaves and vambraces were secure to their limbs. Donal’s great sword was over his shoulder and Kenneth’s bow was slung across his back. Both wore their open-faced helms and their mail coifs were laced tight.

“You’re not going,” Kenneth said. “Not alone.”

“I have to,” Wiz told him.

“Bal-Simba told us to guard you and guard you we shall,” said Donal.

Wiz shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Look, I appreciate the idea, but you can’t come.”

“Stubborn,” said Donal.

“Too stubborn,” said Kenneth. “You look, Sparrow. Someone has to keep your back while you’re making magic.”

“My magic can do that for me.”

“Unlikely,” said Kenneth.

“Take them, Sparrow,” Shiara put in from the hut’s door. “You may need them.”

“It’s dangerous,” Wiz warned again. “You might get . . .” He cast his eyes over their well-used armor and weapons and trailed off. Both men looked at him in grim amusement. “Uh . . . right.”

“It is Bal-Simba’s wish,” said Kenneth simply.

Wiz sighed. “Very well. Stand close to me and I’ll see if I can make this thing work.”

Donal and Kenneth pressed in against his back and he shifted his grip on the staff.

Wiz drew a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs with the cold, sweet air of Heart’s Ease. He looked around slowly at the place he had come to call home. Then he tightened his grip on the staff and began.

“backslash”
he said to the Emac.

“$”
the Emac responded, now ready and waiting for orders.

“transport”
he said and the Emac began to gabble silently translating the predefined macro spell into the words of power,
“arg moira”

He raised the staff high over his head as the air began to waver and twist around him.
“EXE”
he shouted.

And the world went dark.

###

Something’s gone wrong!
Wiz thought frantically.
It’s not supposed to be like this!
His arms quivered from the strain of holding the heavy staff high. He could feel Donal and Kenneth pressing hard against his back and hear their breathing, but still the darkness did not lift. Then he shifted slightly and his staff scraped against something overhead, showering him with noisome dirt. He nearly laughed aloud as he realized that this darkness was simply the absence of light.

He pointed with his staff.
“backslash light exe”
he said, and a blue glow lit the world around him. All three blinked and looked about.

They were in a tunnel so narrow they could not pass abreast. The rough flagged floor was slippery with condensation and the air was close and foul with the odors of earth and decay. About ten yards in either direction the tunnel twisted away, hiding what was beyond. Wiz could see four or five low wooden doors bound strongly with iron set into the walls along this section of the corridor.

“Moira!” Wiz called “Moira!” But ringing echoes and the distant sound of dripping water were the only replies. Donal and Kenneth quickly moved up and down the corridor, checking the cells.

“They are empty, Lord,” Donal said, as they returned to where Wiz stood fidgeting. He forbore to mention that some of the cells were merely empty of life.

“Damn! She’s got to be here someplace. The Emac said they had her located to within cubits.”

The two guardsmen exchanged looks. They knew how unreliable magic could be, how susceptible to counterspells or the blurring effects of other magics, and how magicians could use the magic to trap other magicians. What better place for a threat to the League than the dungeons under the Leagues own stronghold? As unobtrusively as they could, they shifted their stances and loosened their weapons.

Unheeding, Wiz reached into his pouch and pulled out a shiny silver sphere. He cupped it in his palm.
“backslash cd slash grep moira”
he said to the marble. It pulsed with a golden glow, flashing brighter and fainter to acknowledge the order.

“exe”
Wiz said and the light from the sphere steadied into a warm yellow illumination that highlighted his face. The marble grew into a ball of light the size of his fist and floated to the top of the tunnel. “She’s above us,” Wiz told the other two. “We’ll have to go up to the next level.”

“Carefully, Lord,” Donal said in a near whisper. “These tunnels are chancy at best and there are enemies about.”

Wiz nodded and stepped under the glowing ball bobbing against the ceiling,
“backslash”
he said softly.
“in here Moira”
Again the warm light pulsated.

“exe”
Wiz whispered and the ball drifted off to the left, glowing steadily as it traveled up the tunnel Wiz moved to follow it and Donal stepped in front of him, his great sword at the ready. Kenneth fell in behind with his bow in hand and the flap open on his belt quiver.

There was no need to renew the light spell. The golden ball suffused the tunnel with an even glow, warmer and more natural than the weird blue light of the staff.

Donal and Kenneth were not comforted. The light would be a beacon to anyone or anything guarding the tunnels. Wiz didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on the glowing ball.

They saw no one as they moved up the tunnel, but twice they heard movement behind one of the stout, low doors set in the wall at irregular intervals. In neither case was the sound the sort that made them want to stop and investigate even if they had the time. Once there was an explosion that shook dirt down on them. Donal and Kenneth looked apprehensive, as if the passage might collapse, but Wiz only smiled and pressed forward.

The tunnel twisted and turned, it wandered and wobbled, it branched and joined, it doubled back and redoubled on itself and it dipped and it rose. But it rose more than it dipped and always the sphere of light led them on.

Kenneth and Donal kept swiveling their heads, their eyes scanning everywhere for signs of danger. Wiz kept his attention on the sphere, with just enough on his surroundings so he didn’t trip on the miserable footing. Thus when Donal stopped dead at a corner, Wiz walked into him.

“Oh shit,” Donal breathed silently.

“Oh shit!” Wiz whispered, peering over his shoulder.

“Oh shit?” mouthed Kenneth, bringing up the rear.

Around the corner the tunnel widened into a room, its stone floor worn smoother and more even than the corridor. The seeking ball was not the main source of light, for on one side of the room logs burned brightly in a cavernous fireplace. Along the other walls rush torches flared in wrought iron holders. Sturdy tables and benches were scattered about. And in the center, clustered around the glowing golden intruder, were twenty goblins, all armored, armed and very much on the alert.

They were staring up at the light and muttering among themselves in their coarse goblin speech. A very large goblin poked at the seeker with a halberd.

One of the goblins turned from the light to look back the way it had come. His piggy little eyes widened at the sight of the three human heads peeking around the corner and he opened his tusked mouth to yell to his comrades.

“Fortuna!” Donal said under his breath, making the word a curse. Then he brandished his great sword and leaped into the open shouting a war cry. Kenneth was instantly at his back and Wiz stumbled in behind them.

Now goblins are powerful creatures, crafty, patient and fierce. But they are also excitable and given to panic if things go wrong. Goblin attacks are legendary, but so are goblin routs.

These goblins were already in a bad way. Their citadel was besieged by powerful magic. Their last orders were to stay on guard, but those had come hours ago and they had had no word from their officers or the wizards they served since. They were on edge from hours of waiting and when three screaming humans burst into their guardroom in the wake of a mysterious light, they did what came naturally to their goblin natures. They panicked and ran.

“Son of a bitch,” Wiz breathed as the clatter and shouting of the departing goblins died away.

“I told you you would need us, Lord,” Donal said as he looked up the tunnel after the goblins.

Kenneth merely scowled. “They will be back soon enough. And others with them. Let us not be here when they return.”

“Right,” Wiz said. Already the golden ball was disappearing out the door the goblins had taken. “Come on then.”

If the tunnel had been convoluted before, now it became positively mazy. Every few yards there was another branching and never were there fewer than four ways to go. At times even the seeker hesitated before plunging off down one or the other of the passages. Wiz’s sense of direction, never his strong point, was completely befuddled. It seemed they had walked for a mile at least, all of it over rough, slippery ground that always sloped up, down or to the side, and sometimes several ways together.

Finally they came to a place where a fresh fall of dirt and rocks blocked most of the passage. The ball did not hesitate. It floated to the top of the tunnel and vanished in the crevice between the debris and the ceiling. That left Wiz and his companions in darkness except for the faint glow coming through the crack.

“It doesn’t look very big,” Donal said, eyeing the crack doubtfully.

“The spell does know enough not to go where a man may not follow?” Kenneth asked.

“Well, ah . . .” Wiz realized he hadn’t thought of that. “Come on, let’s see if we can get through.”

He scrambled up the mound of loose earth and tried to wedge his body through. His arms and head went in easily enough, but his torso went only halfway. He tried to back out but with his arms extended in front, he couldn’t get any purchase. He kicked his legs and tried to writhe his body from side to side, but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of the fetid dirt.

“Help me out of here,” he called as he twisted his head to one side and spat out the foul-tasting earth.

Donal and Kenneth each grabbed a leg and tugged strongly. Wiz slid out, still spitting dirt.

“Gah!” He wiped his tongue on the inside of his tunic. “No good. We’ll have to dig.”

Kenneth muttered a comment about half-something spells. Wiz ignored him and picked up his staff.
“backslash light exe”
he commanded, pointing the staff down the corridor. At once everything let up with eerie blue light. Then Wiz turned to work on the blockage.

They had no shovel, so at first Wiz threw dirt back between his legs like a dog. Then Kenneth took off his helm and passed it up to use as a scoop. When they came to rocks too large for Wiz to move by himself, Donal squeezed into the tunnel beside him to help. All the while Kenneth stood guard with his bow at the ready, looking nervously down the way they had come.

“I think it’s big enough,” Wiz said at last, panting from the exercise. “Let me check.”

As he moved to climb back up the dirt pile, Donal caught his arm and shook his head. “Bal-Simba said to take care of you, Lord. I’ll go first.”