Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) (36 page)

Delilah squinted as the blue glow
flared, searing the paper. The archmage blew away the last remnants of azure
smoke and rolled up the paper, holding it out for Delilah. The drak took it
with a tentative hand.

“As of now, you are my
apprentice, Drak. Even the high wizards cannot dispute the judgement of the
headmaster in this matter.” He chuckled. “I wish I’d thought of it weeks ago.
In this case, the authority of the headmaster supersedes that of archmage. How
fortunate I hold both titles. Take that to the seneschal, and he’ll see it is
entered into the university records.” He picked up a brooch and tossed it to
Delilah.

She caught and examined it. It
was engraved with the seal of the Arcane University, and she read “Muncifer”
written in the common trade language around the edge.

“You no longer need specific
robes. That brooch will identify you as an apprentice. At dusk, report to the
Court of Wizardry for your first assignment. Do you understand, my apprentice?”

Delilah, unsure she understood
what just transpired, nodded her assent anyway. He dismissed her with a wave of
his hand and sat behind his desk. Her descent was slow as she read the scroll
he gave her. She didn’t understand how his responsibilities as headmaster and
archmage intersected, or didn’t, in this case. The scroll gave her no new
information and failed to alleviate any of her confusion.

Katka still waited for Delilah at
the bottom of the stairs, just outside the door that led back into the keep.
She sat on the grass with her arms wrapped around Delilah’s pack, holding it
tightly against her knees. When she glanced up, her eyes caught the afternoon
light from beneath black locks.

“What happened? What did he say?”

Delilah handed the scroll to
Katka. “The archmage
is
the headmaster. He skipped my Novice Trials and
made me his apprentice effective immediately.”

“Why didn’t he do that before?”

Delilah wished she had the answer
to that question. “Maybe he’s not as smart as he wants everyone to think. I
have to appear before the Court of Wizardry at dusk for my first task as his
apprentice.”

They descended into the keep.
Other novices and initiates greeted them as they passed students in the hall.
As they passed one of the divination classrooms, the smell of burning incense
wafted past them. The pungent odor caused Delilah’s nose to burn and her vision
to blur. When they entered the courtyard, she searched for the sun in the sky,
gauging, based upon its position, whether or not she had time to visit her
brother before going to the Court of Wizardry. It was over halfway through its
descent toward the western horizon. With additional crowds in the upper city
gathering for the celebration of Anetha’s Glory that night, it was doubtful she
could travel there and back in time.

“It’s strange he didn’t give the
assignment to you when you met with him, don’t you think?” Katka stopped
underneath the Blood Oak. She returned the scroll to Delilah.

“I assume he wants to show off in
front of the high wizards. He was proud that he thought of a way to circumvent
their decree.” She hoped the archmage would give her an assignment to take her
out of the city. Delilah wanted no part of his machinations against the
archduke. As far as she was concerned, the two humans could fight it out
themselves without her involvement.

“At least you don’t have to wear
those grey robes anymore, though, right? You draks don’t usually wear so much.”

“So far, that’s the only good
thing about it.” Delilah suspected the only way she’d obtain the answers she
craved was to play their game a little while longer. She hefted her pack and
motioned for Katka to follow her. “I’m going to change and then hit the tavern
before the meeting. Join me?”

* * *

The sound of the printing press
drowned out the crowds in the street. Kale tapped his foot and stared vacantly
at Kali. The note from Boss Steelhand said Jairo’s cousin would be in his print
shop waiting for them. So far, there was no sign of the other drak. Jairo
offered to let them wait while he finished printing broadsheets.

Kali tossed the paper she had
been reading onto the counter. “How long are we going to keep waiting? Let’s
just tell the minotaur ‘no deal’ and get on with our lives.”

“It’s a way for us to earn some
money without having to work for it.” Kale shrugged. He didn’t like waiting any
more than his mate did. “Maybe it’ll pay all our expenses and we can do
something fun for a change.”

The bell rang as an
out-of-breath, blue-scaled drak pushed open the door. He glanced behind him as
he closed it and then recoiled when he saw Kale and Kali staring at him. “Oh!
Sorry I’m late. Where’s… Jairo?”

His mouth hung agape as he took
in the sight of Kale’s wings. He turned his head, first one way and then the
other.

“Working.” As soon as Kali
answered, the rhythmic pounding of the printing press stopped. Jairo ran to the
front of his shop as he wiped ink-stained hands on his equally stained apron.

“Ori!”

“Jairo!”

The two draks embraced. Kale
shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to cut short their
reunion, but neither did he want to be sidelined all day.

“The note we received said to
meet the limner here.” Kale fished the scrap of parchment given him by one of
Boss Steelhand’s thugs from his pouch. He handed it to Ori.

“Oh! You’re the draks who own the
place I’m setting up shop in?” Ori examined the paper and handed it to his
cousin. He stared again at Kale’s wings.

“It’s the storefront attached to
our
home
.” He tucked back his wings as far as they would go. Jairo
nudged his cousin and shook his head.

“Oh, well, I’m sure it’s very
nice. I don’t need much space, and I’ll be living with Jairo, at least for a
while.”

“That’s right.” Jairo put his arm
around his cousin as he nodded. “Are the terms acceptable?”

Kale glanced over to Kali and
nodded. She shrugged.

“Boss Steelhand hasn’t told us
the terms yet.”

“Oh.” Ori fished in his pouch and
pulled out a sheaf of papers. He handed them to Kale. “They’re quite simple.”

“Simple?” Kale flipped through
the pages. They were written in drak, but the language was more complicated
than that to which he was accustomed and appeared to contain doublespeak and
terms with which he was not familiar.

“Just tell us Boss Steelhand’s
angle here. We know he wants you to spy on us.”

“Oh! Spy! Me?” Ori put his hand
on his chest as his eyes widened. “I don’t want to spy on anyone!”

Jairo walked to his shop’s door
and turned the lock. “Why do you think Boss Steelhand wants Ori to spy on you?”

Kali’s fingered the handle of one
of her daggers. Kale likewise reached up to his bandoleer. “What’s going on
here?”

“Calm down. Calm down.” Jairo
raised his hands. “I just don’t want someone walking in on us while we’re
having this particular discussion.”

Kale’s eyes narrowed as he
watched Jairo step behind Ori and lean against the counter. The grey drak moved
with deliberate action, his hands remaining visible at all times. Kali moved to
the door and stood in front of it.

“Oh.” Ori’s eyes flicked to Kali
and then back to Kale. “Boss Steelhand owed me a favor. When I had the
opportunity to join Jairo here, I knew his shop would be too small, so I asked
the boss to find me someplace to set up shop. That’s all. I’m not one of his
cronies. I just illuminate manuscripts. That’s all.”

He reached for the pages Kale
held. “I have my own equipment. You just need to provide workspace. In
exchange, I pay you thirty percent of my gross income every month, or two
crowns, whichever is higher. The contract can be renegotiated after six
months.”

Kale dropped his hand away from
his dagger. “That’s a lot of paper just to say that.”

“It’s a standard Maritropan
contract.”

Jairo chuckled. “They use a lot
of words up in Maritropa.”

“Well, we’re not from Maritropa,
and we’re not in Maritropa. What you said sounds fine to me.” Kale extended a
clawed hand toward Ori. “I’ll show you around the place right away, if you
like.”

He caught a raised eyebrow from
Kali, but she, too, dropped her hand away from her dagger before turning to
unlock the door. Ori glanced at his cousin and then tossed the stack of papers
on the counter before clasping Kale’s hand.

“Deal.”

* * *

Gisella observed Pancras as he
stared into his mug of mead. His failure to help the blacksmith’s mother
weighed on him as well as their inability to secure Qaliah’s and Edric’s
release from jail. The air in The Drunken Horse hung hazy and heavy, laden with
clouds of pipe smoke. The acrid tang of the tobacco the mudders puffed mingled
with the aroma of simmering stew from the kitchen.

She sipped her mead. It was flat
and tasted of clay.
Sweet mud. How delightful
. She grimaced and set down
her mug.

“I’ve been trying to think of
something we can do to assist Qaliah and Edric.” Pancras pushed away his mug.
“Perhaps if I offer to pay the damages?”

“That’s your choice. Making the
offer certainly won’t hurt.” Gisella waved her hand to gain the barmaid’s
attention. “If they are guilty of breaking the law here, though, I think they
should face their punishment.”

“What do you need, dearie?” The
barmaid, a round-faced woman in a cornflower dress and a white apron,
approached the table, the corners of her eyes upturned in a perpetual smile.

“This mead tastes muddy. Do you
have any wine or ale? Perhaps something from Ravensforest or Maritropa?”

“Muddy?” The barmaid’s grin fell
as she fidgeted with her chignon. She glanced toward the kitchen. “Ivan! We
found the contaminated batch of mead!” She gathered up Gisella’s and Pancras’s
mugs. “Sorry about that. One of the boys at the meadery snuck some muddy water
into one of the batches. We’ve spent all summer trying to figure out which
barrels were affected. I’ll bring fresh drinks straightaway.”

“Contaminated?” Pancras stuck out
his tongue and scraped it with a fingernail.

The barmaid’s hairdo bounced up
and down as she bustled away.

Gisella spat on the floor. “I
doubt it’s poisonous. If you need to burn that taste out of your mouth, have
some spirits.”

A hush fell over the great room
as the front door opened. The sound of armored boots turned Gisella’s head. Lady
Aveline approached their table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

“Your dwarf friend must appear
before the magistrate to answer charges of cheating the house at Danica’s Den.”
She clasped her fingers together in front of her on the table.

“We figured that.” Gisella nodded
her thanks to the barmaid as the woman set fresh tankards of ale on the table.
Lady Aveline waved away her offer of refreshment.

“The fiendling was caught up in
trying to defend her friend. I will release her to you on your way out of town.
She hasn’t broken any laws, but I think she’ll be safer in the jail than out on
the streets right now. I have a group of mudders camped outside the jail
calling for her head.”

Pancras raised his eyebrows.
“When will Edric appear before the magistrate, and what will the likely penalty
be?”

Gisella regarded Lady Aveline. In
Muncifer, being caught cheating landed you in stocks for a few days and
resulted in banishment from all the city’s gambling dens. She was certain the
ban wasn’t totally enforceable, but the minotaur guards all possessed excellent
memories.

“There’s a fine; the magistrate
will set that. He’ll be expected to pay damages to the owners of Danica’s Den,
and he’ll be barred from gambling there.” Lady Aveline turned her head as the
door slammed open. A couple of mudders stumbled in, laughing. One of the
serving maids shook her head as she closed the door behind them.

Gisella noticed Pancras fishing
in his money pouch.
Counting his coins, no doubt, hoping to pay for Edric’s
mistake.
“What happens if the dwarf can’t pay his debt?”

Lady Aveline raised an eyebrow.
“He’ll be indentured.” She turned to Pancras. “I’m not sure when the magistrate
will see the dwarf. He’s been dealing with some sick livestock and is reluctant
to leave his farm lately. It might be a week or more.”

“A week?” Pancras furrowed his
brow and rubbed his right horn. He regarded Gisella. “I don’t think we can
delay that long.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Perhaps…” Pancras pulled a
handful of crowns out of his pouch. “Perhaps I can just pay the damages and
take Edric out of town right away? Can we work something out?”

Lady Aveline chuckled. “You’re a
better friend than he deserves. Were I inclined to make such a deal, I would
tell you the damages are at least twenty crowns. I don’t have final figures
yet.”