Reign of Ash (21 page)

Illarion took the disk from beneath his shirt, lifting its leather strap over his head. He handed the disk to Blaine. “Then take it.” He looked at Blaine intently. “Can the magic be restored?”

Blaine grimaced. “We think so, but we don’t have all the pieces. That’s why we came to Riker’s Ferry. Before the Great Fire, there was a mage-scholar named Vigus Quintrel. He and his students went into hiding. But he left a trail of clues. We’re trying to find him. The disks are part of that, we think.”

“You’re not the first person to come to Riker’s Ferry looking for Quintrel,” Zaryae said quietly. “Several weeks ago, another man came. He also asked Helgen about a mage named Quintrel. I had a dream where a cloud covered the black disk, and I took it to mean we should hide from this man.”

“Did he give a name?” Blaine asked, leaning forward.

Zaryae shook her head. “He said he represented a wealthy man who would reward anyone who helped him. And,” she added, “he was dead.”

“
Talishte
?” Kestel asked.

Zaryae nodded. “Few
talishte
pass through this town. I have been told that it unsettles them.”

Blaine looked at Kestel. It was clear from her expression that she, too, was thinking that the stranger was likely employed by Reese.

“We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone about the disk,” Blaine said.

Illarion chuckled. “We’ve spoken of it to no one, except yourselves.”

“Now that you’ve found us, I’d suggest you drop the symbols from your performance,” Kestel warned. “There are powerful men who gain from keeping magic out of reach. They’ve already shown that they’re not afraid to kill. If they link us to you, you may be in danger.”

“Helgen made it clear that he wanted us to leave Riker’s Ferry tomorrow,” Blaine said.

“Helgen’s motives are often framed by what is best for Helgen,” Illarion replied. “But in this, I believe his counsel is true.” He paused. “Yet I’m curious. You couldn’t have known about us and our disk. Why did you come to Riker’s Ferry?”

Blaine paused, unwilling to admit to the existence of the maps. “We gambled that a mage or two might have sought refuge in the null places, and that perhaps those mages could lead us a step closer to Vigus Quintrel.”

Illarion nodded. “I know of no true mages in Riker’s Ferry, but then again, now that the magic is gone and mages are vulnerable, such people may not want their presence known. I can’t help you.”

“What will you do with the disk?” Zaryae asked.

Blaine shrugged. “That’s why I was hoping to find Quintrel. We made one attempt to bring back the magic. It ended badly.”

“We will also be moving on,” Illarion replied. “Where we go, I’m sure the gods will show us.” He paused. “There is something else that might be important for you to know.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve heard it whispered that long ago, a small group of mages fled for their lives when the king withdrew his favor and betrayed them. They fled to a forsaken place where the magic was strong, a place of the gods.” He paused. “They were not the first,” Illarion said. “There were ruins of a much older city, and the legend says that the ancient city will rise again birthed in flame.”

“Where is this place?” Kestel asked.

Illarion smiled and shrugged. “No one knows. The mages, so the story goes, were never seen again. But I wonder whether such a place is real, and whether your missing mage knew the legend and followed in their footsteps.”

Without Valtyr’s map, even a place of power might remain unnoticed if it were remote enough
, Blaine thought.
Illarion’s story sounds awfully close to what Geir said about the Knights of Esthrane.

Their meal was long finished, and the fire was burning low. Blaine and Kestel stood. “You’ve been generous with your provisions, and with your information,” Blaine said. “Thank you. Now, it’s time for us to rejoin our friends.”

Illarion stood as well. “Keep a watch,” he advised. “I fear that you’re not safe here. Had we room, I would offer you lodging, but as you can see,” he said, spreading his hands to indicate the camp, “we barely have shelter for ourselves.” He met Blaine’s gaze. “Tell no one your business, and leave with first light. May Esthrane’s hand be upon you.”

Blaine and Kestel turned to leave. To their surprise, Borya and Desya stood and followed them. “We’ll make sure you get back to the inn,” Borya said. “A little extra muscle never hurts.” His strange yellow eyes flashed, and Kestel shivered.

They reached the pub without incident and bade Borya and Desya good night. As they entered the Ram and Boar, the common room grew uncomfortably quiet when they made their way to the stairs. Feeling the gaze of the pub’s patrons upon them, Blaine and Kestel moved quickly out of view and were glad when they reached the door to their room.

Piran and Verran both rose from their seats near the fire. “Where in Raka were you?” Piran demanded as they entered. “Geir got here some time ago. He’s gone out searching.”

In response, Blaine held up the new disk. “We went to watch the traveling performers and came back with more information than we expected.” He gave Piran and Verran a quick recap.

“Not bad,” Piran said, settling back into his chair. “But Verran and I turned up some information, too.”

Verran moved away from the fire and propped one foot up on a bench. “I passed the evening in the common room. After I bought a round of drinks, people were happy to talk to me, and I fell in with the musicians who were playing tonight,” he said, tapping the pennywhistle in his pocket. “We’re not the first people to come this way looking for mages.”

Blaine grimaced. “So we heard.”

Verran’s expression sobered. “Yeah. Either we were followed, or someone had watchers in place, looking for you, Blaine. A man I’d never seen before came to the bar asking about ‘the strangers’ who had come in with the storm. I stayed out of sight, but I could hear what was being said. Whoever was looking for you gave the impression that we were trouble. After that, the room wasn’t quite so friendly.”

“Was he
talishte
?” Blaine asked.

“No,” Verran replied.

“Probably not Reese’s man then,” Blaine said. “I wonder if he was connected to the fellow who followed us.”

“Did you learn anything from the musicians?” Kestel asked.

Verran shrugged. “They had a few opinions about the acrobat troupe and freak show that came into town a while ago. Been some accusations – never proven – that they’re petty thieves. There’s a rumor going around that the performers are under some kind of curse.” He ran a hand back through his straw-colored hair. “Gods above! I wish we could leave tonight.”

Kestel sauntered toward the fireplace and sank into the chair Verran had vacated. She looked at Piran and grinned. “How did your research go, Piran? Did you use your wiles to get the ladies to bare their secrets?”

“You’ve got no faith in me at all, do you, Kestel?” Piran returned with mock exasperation.

“If you mean, do I think you’ll keep your wits about you in a whorehouse, the answer is no.”

Piran sighed. “Well, then, you’d be surprised. I spent a pleasant candlemark in the parlor having a drink or two with the ladies. One of the girls, Calia, allowed as how she had seen a newcomer to town more than a week ago, a man who seemed to be looking for someone.” He grinned. “As you can imagine, she’s the one I paid for some companionship.”

“We don’t want a report of your escapades,” Kestel replied with good-natured impatience. “You were supposed to be spying.”

Piran drew himself up as if offended, although the mirth in his eyes said otherwise. “I’ll have you know I denied myself the pleasure of Calia’s significant charms and asked if we could use the time my coin bought to talk. She said it was all the same to her, so that’s what we did.”

Blaine and Verran smirked while Kestel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’d heard that you were all talk. Tell us something we don’t know,” Kestel jibed.

“How about this?” Piran said, growing serious. “Pollard’s got at least one spy here.”

The joking mood vanished. “How do you know?” Blaine asked.

“Turns out the spy took a fancy to Calia. He got drunk and started bragging. Said he worked for a very wealthy man and that he was sent to keep an eye on a group of escaped criminals. Gave her the impression he was the leader of a military team.”

“Shit,” Blaine murmured. “What else? Are you sure he meant Pollard? I hate to say it, but he might not be the only wealthy man with a reason to keep an eye on us.”

“He told her that his boss had powerful friends among the
talishte
,” Piran replied. “It’s got to be Pollard.”

“How do you know she wasn’t trying to pump you for information?” Kestel said, fixing Piran with a gaze that had suddenly lost all humor. “Maybe she’s in league with him.”

Piran shook his head. “Doubtful. She was angry. Turns out when she wasn’t properly impressed by the man’s story, he roughed her up. Madam Ellie had him thrown out, and he’s not welcome back.”

Before anyone could reply, the glass in both of the room’s windows shattered and two streaks of fire arched through the air. Blaine barely caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a pitcher stuffed with burning rags before the vessel shattered on the bare-wood floor, sending shards of pottery and tongues of flames in every direction.

“Get away from the windows!” Blaine shouted. The flames caught quickly amid the tinder of the bedding and the dry wood. Already the room was filling with smoke and the noxious smell of pitch and burning oil.

Kestel’s quick reflexes served her well. She ducked the worst of the flying shards and was on her feet in a heartbeat, grabbing her cloak and what she could of their gear on her way toward the door. Verran and Piran snatched what they could easily carry and Blaine followed, barreling out of the door and down the stairs into the chaos of the common room.

“The house is on fire!” someone in the crowded room shouted as Blaine and the others cleared the last of the stairs. Smoke was beginning to billow down the steps behind them. Screams, cries, and shouts filled the air as the drunken patrons shouldered each other to get out the door.

“This way!” Kestel said, grabbing Blaine’s arm. He signaled to Verran and Piran and followed Kestel as she ran in the opposite direction of the crowd, into the pub’s back hallway and through the kitchen.

“Head for the stables,” Blaine instructed. “Grab the horses. We need to get out of here.”

They plunged out of the doorway and into the cold night. A crowd had gathered behind the pub as well as in front. As they cleared the doorway, there was a roar and the flames burst from every window on the second story, showering the yard with glass.

“Those are the ones!” a voice shouted from the crowd. “They brought this on us.”

The crowd closed ranks, forcing Blaine and the others to stop in their tracks. “We had nothing to do with this,” Blaine countered, holding up his hands as if to ward off the crowd.

“We heard you were trouble!” another voice shouted. “We were warned.”

“Someone threw pitchers with burning rags through our window,” Kestel answered, taking a step toward the crowd. “We had nothing to do with it.”

“Happened because you were here, din’t it?” a man replied. “I’d say that’s on account of you.”

“Drive ’em out!” a woman yelled from deep within the crowd. “Get rid of them!”

“I say hang ’em all,” another man dissented.

“Run them out!”

“If you want to blame someone, here’s your man.” Blaine and the others turned sharply at the sound of Geir’s voice. He was standing at the back of the crowd, and he held a man by the shoulder so that his feet barely touched the ground.

The crowd hushed, staring at Geir. “I saw him throw the pitchers, but I was too far away to stop him.” Geir shouted. “I caught him as he tried to run.”

The man twisted in Geir’s iron grip. “Help me! He’s a biter and he’s got me!”

Behind them, the roof of the pub caught fire. Flames shot from every window and door, and Blaine could hear the shouts of the bucket brigade in the front of the pub as they relayed buckets from the well to wet down adjacent buildings and keep the fire from spreading. It had grown warm enough where they stood to raise a sheen of sweat on Blaine’s forehead, and the firelight cast a flickering red light across everything.

“The biter’s in league with them! Run them all out!” Voices took up the cry, and the crowd surged forward.

The clatter of a wagon and the thunder of horses running at full speed stopped the movement of the crowd. To Blaine’s astonishment, the troubadours’ wagon drove toward them at breakneck speed, with Zaryae in the driver’s seat, her dark hair flying around her on the wind. She reined in the horses so hard that they nearly reared, stopping so the wagon stood between Blaine’s group and the crowd. Borya and Desya, who had been hanging on to the outside of the wagon, standing on the running board and clinging to the top rail, jumped down, each now armed with long swords in both hands.

“Get in!” Zaryae shouted to Blaine and the others. “The boys will see to your horses.”

Caught between the crowd and the heat of the flames, Blaine and his friends climbed into the wagon. As he ducked his head to enter the wagon, Blaine caught a glimpse of Geir rising straight up, still holding the arsonist.

No sooner had Piran closed the door of the wagon when Zaryae gave an earsplitting whistle to the horses, who took off at a gallop. Blaine had to grab for the sides of the wagon to keep from being thrown from his feet. Kestel lost her footing as they rounded a curve at full speed but was prevented from tumbling to the other side of the wagon when Verran grabbed her by the arm.

“We’re heading away from the crowd and the fire,” Piran observed. “Question is, what are we headed toward?”

“And can we trust the people who saved us, or did we just land in worse trouble?” Kestel asked as she pulled herself to her feet.

The wagon slowed after a few minutes so they did not have to cling to the sides to avoid being injured, but they were still riding fast enough that every rut and stone in the road jarred their bones and knocked their jaws together. Finally, the wagon’s speed decreased and they gradually came to a stop.