Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion) (21 page)

Tobias
and Ferrio stood where Byrn had left them staring at him in shocked disbelief.
“How do I get to the nearest city?” he asked them.

Tobias
was the first to regain his wits, “Head south through the forest. In a day’s
time you will reach Lion's Landing.”

“
Thank
you,” Byrn told him. “I am sure you will not mind if I take one of the lead
wagon's horses, will you? It seems I may no longer be welcome among your group
and the horse would be a fitting reward for saving your lives.”

The
teamster nodded his head and Byrn made about quickly unbuckling one of the
horses from the first wagon. To Tobias, he said, “For whatever it is worth I am
sorry I lied to you, but it seems to be a necessary thing just to survive. You
showed me kindness earlier and I hope I have repaid that.”

He
noted that the fire he set to the trees was beginning to spread and he willed
it to come back to him. The flames flew to him like a phoenix on wing and he
caught it just above his hands before he could get burned. Raising his arms up
to the sky he shot the flames into the air where they could dissipate safely.

A
minute later Byrn was riding along the forest path at a full gallop. The horse
would not be able to maintain that pace for long, but Byrn hoped it would be
long enough for him to put a fair distance between himself and the caravan
before he had to stop for a rest. His head was still swimming from the
exertion, but he found that it was manageable for the time being.

Defeating
a half dozen armed bandits with little effort and fleeing the people he just
saved, Byrn asked himself if this was what it meant to be a magician in
Aurelia. “Well there are worse fates,” he told himself thinking of the prison
of Baj.

“
Winner!
Winner! Chicken Dinner!” the boy yelled as he made thimbles spin and fly from
one spot to the next under his easy touch. He was a handsome lad of thirteen
years with light brown hair and a winning smile. His boyish good looks were
capable of disarming even the hardest heart. It was for this reason along with
his amazing dexterity that the boy was considered a master of the thimble game
among the homeless people that considered him one of their own. Gawkers
marveled as the boy’s hands flew with speed and precision creating a
mesmerizing movement as he shifted the thimbles around on his mat.

“
What
is this?” asked a newcomer to the table. She was an attractive woman with hair
as black as a raven and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through the boy
and into his soul. She pushed her way into the small group of onlookers
watching the lad.

“
This
boy is playing at thimbles,” laughed a drunken old man well past his limit of
ale. His breath left a smell of liquor that could likely set the small group
around the table aflame if someone were to put a candle before his lips.

The
raven haired beauty looked perplexed by the explanation and the boy knew he
found just the person he was looking for. She would be an easy mark. “I move
these thimbles around,” he said showing no signs of slowing down as he spoke to
her, “and when they stop,” he immediately stopped moving the thimbles and eased
his hands away so all could get a good look at the three thimbles sitting in a
row, “you pick one and if you choose the one with a pea underneath then you
will win double your coin.

“
Any
takers?” The boy asked the crowd, but kept his eyes on the woman. He regarded
her coolly with that honest face that seemed to convince people to do what he
wanted.

The
old drunken goat said, “Aye, I'll take you at your game,” and he tossed down a
silver coin. His wrinkled finger pointed unsteadily to the thimble in the
middle and the boy lifted the thimble revealing the pea hidden underneath.

“
Two
silvers for you,” the young thimble master told him disappointedly returning
the old man's silver to him along with one of his own.

“
I
got your number,” the drunk laughed again.

Ignoring
him, the boy started a new game returning the pea to the middle thimble.
“Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!” he yelled once more and his small hands
danced over and between the thimbles moving them swiftly. He saw the look in
the woman's face as she eagerly traced the thimbles’ paths with her eyes.

They
stopped once more and she smirked.

“
Any
takers?” he asked.

Reaching
into her brown cloak, the woman pulled a silver coin from her purse and set it
on the table. “The left thimble,” she said confidently.

When
the boy lifted the left thimble he revealed nothing underneath. “I am sorry, my
lady, but perhaps next time you will have better luck.”

“
It
ain't that hard,” the drunkard told her, “Just watch closer. There is a trick
to picking the winner. Trust me,” the man belched, “he ain’t as good as he
looks.”

The
boy went through his act again and when he stopped he looked the woman square
in the eye. “Any takers?”

She
hesitated and the old man took the initiative tossing a silver in front of the
boy, “Take another try, sweetheart.”

“
The
right one,” she said.

“
No,”
the drunk laughed, “it was the left.”

Lifting
the right thimble the boy revealed another empty spot. He glared at the man,
but revealed the left thimble and the pea. “He is a pig, but he is right, my
lady,” the boy told his lovely opponent, “You need to watch more closely if you
want to win.”

Clearly
angry at the boy’s taunt, she said, “Let us try one more time,” but in the end
she lost another silver.

“
I
have had enough,” she said walking away from the table. “I hope you can eat
well on my coin.”

The
old man chased after her. “Do not let that kid get to you. I told you he is not
as good as he looks. His hands move fast, but they move in the same way each
time. All you got to do is see which thimble the pea is under when he starts.
When he is done it always ends up one to the left. Make a big bet and you will
be the one with all of his coin rather than the other way around.”

Armed
with new knowledge, the raven-haired woman returned to the betting table with the
old man following after. He brandished a toothy grin at the boy and took his
seat, but the lad ignored him.

“
Back
for more?” he asked smartly, “Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!” the game started
for the last time that night. When the thimbles stopped moving, he smirked at
the lady and said, “Any takers?”

Reaching
into her purse she produced two gold coins and placed them on the table. “Can
you match that?”

With
a nod he said, “Make your choice, my lady.”

Supremely
confident she said, “It is the middle thimble.”

Lifting
the middle one he said, “You have lost, my lady,” and scooped up her coins
before she had even registered the loss.

With
a flick of her wrist the other two thimbles fell over and revealed that the pea
was nowhere to be found. “I think I have been cheated,” she said showing no
anger or surprise. For a brief moment the young master of thimbles thought that
he might have been the lady’s mark and not the other way around.

In
the blink of an eye the boy scooped up his thimbles and mat and made a dash for
a nearby alleyway. It was odd that there was no cry for guards and there seemed
to be no pursuit, but he refused to stop until he reached the back alley he
called home quite some distance away.

Fishing
through his pockets he pulled out the coins he won from the cloaked woman with
the raven hair. Two golds and two silvers could feed him for a week or more. It
was a shame that he would have to split his winnings with that old codger,
Luthor, who played the role of old drunk so well, but it was still a good haul
for a day's work. However, when he looked down at his hand he saw only four
coppers. Shoving his hand back in his pocket he fished around for the more
valuable coins. Finding nothing he moved onto his other pocket and began
patting himself down to no avail.

“
Lose
something?” asked the raven-haired woman with piercing blue eyes, appearing
seemingly from nowhere.

Shoving
the coins back in his pocket the boy asked, “How did you find me?” If there was
any question before, then it was clear now that this was no ordinary woman
standing proudly before him.

The
woman waved her hand in front of her and her brown cloak turned black as a
moonless night sky. “I have been looking for you for a while now, Tomlin. There
are rumors about you, you know. People say you can move those thimbles almost
like it is magic,” she walked toward him slowly like a cat playing with a
mouse. “They say you never lose... unless you want to.” She was now close
enough to touch him. Taking his face in her hand she held him so that they were
looking eye to eye. “Tell me how you made the pea vanish?”

Tomlin
stammered unable to break her gaze. “H-How do you know my name?”

Ignoring
his question she caught his eyes with her own and Tomlin found he could not
look away. The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but Tomlin did not fear
this woman. He somehow felt compelled to answer her.

“
It
was just a trick. A sleight of hand my dad taught me. So I could take care of
myself after he died.”

Letting
go of his chin the woman told him, “That is disappointing. I had hoped that you
were a bit more... like me.” To Tomlin's surprise the woman reached into her
coin purse and produced a gold piece. Handing it to him she said, “For your
trouble. This one is real. Have a good meal on me.”

As
she turned to leave Tomlin saw a red skull on the back of her cloak. “Wait!” he
called after her, “My lady, wait!” but she kept walking. Tomlin ran past her
and stood in front of the woman forcing her to stop. “The red skull on the back
of your cloak, what does it mean? When my father came to me after he died he
was wearing a cloak with that symbol.”

“
It
is the symbol of the necromancer. I wear it in honor of my father,” the lady
magician told him, “You said your father came to you
after
he
died?”

“
Yes,
when he taught me how to run the thimble confidence game. He came to me in a
dream not long after he passed. His body was dark and cloudy like a puff of
smoke.”

“
There
may be more to you than you understand,” she said a bit too cryptically for the
boy's liking. “When a soul is summoned by a necromancer they appear as you
described your father. It is uncommonly rare for one to appear unbidden even in
a dream.

“
I
think you are a magician, Tomlin, and if I am right, then your life right now
will seem idyllic compared to what awaits. One day you will be discovered and
hauled off to a prison. You will never see the sun or the moon or the sky
again. Such is the fate of all of us with magic in our veins, but I want to
help you and everyone like you so that does not happen.

“
My
name is Alia Necros and I can take you from this place. I can give you a roof
over your head, food in your belly, and, perhaps more importantly, a purpose.”

“
You
paint a vivid picture, my lady,” said Tomlin. Years of living as a beggar and a
thief made him wary of offers that seemed too good to be true. “What do you ask
of me?”

“
I
need soldiers. People to help make a free place for magicians, like you and I,
to live, so that we need no longer fear our lessers. It would be a safe haven
for all magicians.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke of revolution. Tomlin did
not know if there was any merit to what Alia told him, but he could tell that
she wholeheartedly believed every word of what she was telling him.

Tomlin
looked to the alley where he had lived for the last few months. Then he looked
to the raven-haired magician offering him a place to live and regular meals. It
was a simple choice.

“
I
am with you, my lady, until I have reason not to be,” Tomlin told her with a
bow of genuine regard.

Looking
about and seeing no one watching them Alia placed her hand on Tomlin’s
shoulder. “That is all I ask,” she said and an instant later Tomlin found
himself gripping the woman's cloak for his life as they floated in a bright
white void. A moment later Tomlin felt his body being pulled toward another
place altogether.

On
his fifth day in Lion's Landing Byrn was working in an inn called The Hasty
Rider when he heard the first whisper that might lead him to Xander Necros'
wife, Avelice. Byrn had told the innkeeper, a kind portly man with an
exceedingly long mane of brown hair by the name of Jack Wolffang, that he was
an orphan from the North Lands looking for his distant relative and Wolffang
agreed to give him a place to sleep and a few silvers a day to work as the
attendant to the stable master while he looked for his “Aunt” Avelice.

“
I
am telling you this city is infested with wizards,” a particularly smelly man
with a thin mustache told his companion as he took a swig of ale. Byrn flinched
a little at the use of the word “wizard.” He never thought much about it as a
boy, but the word was considered derogatory among magicians. It went back to
the days when the most powerful and wise of the magicians ruled over the
lesser. Centuries ago a wizard was a magician who ruled the populace through
methods similar to a tyrannical king. Now it was a common term meant to remind
people that magicians are beings of evil.