Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

However, he had bigger problems ahead.  He was on a floating
fortress a hundred spans above the Imperial Palace grounds.  There was no way
to jump, as he certainly wouldn’t survive, and he couldn’t fly, and had no
magic portals to walk through to his freedom.  His only recourse was to try and
use the magegate that brought him here.  Only he didn’t have a plan that
wouldn’t get him killed.  Yet.

When Celia finally returned to her room following a quiet
dinner, after spending most of the day in the small library, she found the note
on her desk.  When she opened it, she found that it mentioned that a Reegan
Hicks had come by that afternoon looking for her.  It took her a few moments to
connect Reegan Hicks with just Hicks. 
What does she want I wonder?
  She
looked to her window and noted that the sun was still two fingers above the
horizon, she might have time to find her way to the Red Rooster Inn.  She
quickly grabbed her cloak, and pulled on her walking boots and headed for the
front door.  This time, she would make sure she got there on time.

She pulled open the front door, causing the two guards to
turn.  She pointed to the younger of the two, though still a large and well
armed man.  “I need to go to the Trade quarter as fast as I can, you will be my
escort.” She ordered.  It was a good thing they could not see her knees shaking
or the butterflies in her stomach, though she was still clutching her quafa'shilaar
through her cloak.

The older guard held up a hand to the younger, stopping him
from moving.  “You’re not to be out after dark, m’lady,” he responded.

“Well then, we must be quick then, shan’t we?” she said
pointedly gesturing at the sky.  “There must be at least a bell and a half
before it is truly dark captain.”  She had heard that it sometimes helped to
offer a man a better title than he had yet earned, to get what a woman wanted
done.  She truly had no idea what rank he had, but she was certain it was less
than captain.

He looked at the sky and the amount of traffic still about
on the street, and nodded to the younger soldier, “Take her there and straight
back here.  And ensure she’s done her business in a handy time too.”

The young soldier gestured to Celia and they set off.

---o---

It was quite remarkable how easily and quickly it was to get
to the Red Rooster Inn when you had someone guiding you and it was still light
out.  It had probably only taken a half a bell, with still a bell to go before
dark.  As she walked up the winding street to the two storey building, she
noted how well-kept it was, with the walls freshly white-washed, and the trim
painted a deep shade of red.  It reminded her of the colour of the robes Theus
typically wore.  She said ‘typically’ in her head as if she had seen him
clothed in any other colour.

When she reached the front of the Inn, she could hear the
sounds of a jaunty tune playing from inside.  She turned to the soldier
escorting her, “You’re welcome to wait out here, or come inside, but my
business is my business, so you’ll not sit at my table and listen in.”  Again
the trembling knees and butterflies threatened to give her away.

“Yes m’lady, but don’t go and try anything sneaky.  We have
all been told what you pulled the other day, and if it happens again, we are to
collect you and take you to the Palace to have a discussion with the First
Chancellor,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he could care less either way. 
Celia looked him over.  He was taller than her by a small bit, with light brown
hair and a cleft chin.  He had a pair of small, light scars that crossed in an
X on his right cheek.  He had high cheekbones below green eyes.  As with all
the other city guard, he was obviously strong and muscular.

“What is your name soldier?”

“Marsen m’lady.  Why?”  He eyed her cautiously.

“I want to provide your captain with a compliment about how
straight-forward you have been, that is all.”  She turned and strode up the
stairs now that her legs had stopped trembling.  She had managed, by sheer
force of will alone, to keep her hand from playing with her necklace the whole
time.  She had to break herself of that nervous habit.

“He’s not my captain m’lady.  I mean, he’s my sergeant and
all, but he’s no captain.” Marsen provided as he quickly caught up to her on
the short flight of stairs and proceeded to open the door for her.  This time she
was prepared for the assault on her senses the Inn provided.

“Oh not
that
captain,” she clarified with a wave of
her hand, “your real captain, the one that assigned all of you the job of
‘guarding’ the embassy.  Now, go find a spot that is out of my way, and I shall
come and find you when I’m ready to leave.  Or you can watch me from a distance
at least, to make sure I do nothing sneaky.”  She scanned the large common room
for the person she came to find.

The common room was almost full to bursting, but as it was
just past the dinner bell most were just tradesmen finishing eating their
dinner and the crowd had not yet shifted to those taking on the serious task of
drinking.  A three person band played on the small stage in the corner, now
onto a song about a carousing bard that got himself into hot water with a
farmer’s daughter.  Spending a serious minute or two looking at the faces of
the patrons, trying very hard to ignore the lyrics of the song, she did not
find Hicks among them.  She moved to the bar and waved down a barmaid.

“Has Hicks come in yet?” she asked.

“Who is Hicks?  He your boyfriend?” the barmaid asked
indifferently.

“No, Reegan Hicks.  Medium blonde hair, so high,” she said
bringing her hand just above her chin while speaking loudly over the tune
playing in the background.

“Don’t know who ya is talking about luv,” answered the
barmaid, who turned away and grabbed a tray full of mugs to distribute to the
patrons.  Celia turned in a circle at the end of the bar and resurveyed the Inn,
Hicks had to be here.

A portly man with a red beard and hair approached her from
the server side of the bar.  “You look a little lost miss, can I help?”  He was
carrying two platters of food which he handed to a different barmaid as she
passed.  The last song had died off to a quieter tune, so it was easier to
hear.

“I’m looking for someone.  The last time I met her – was
here.” Celia blurted out, frustrated.

“And who is it you be looking for?” he asked, wiping his
hands on his apron.

“Hicks” she answered without thinking.  She turned to the
man as he smiled at her.

“Well you’ll have to wait; she doesn’t come in until eighth
bell.  Take that table over there,” he pointed to a table near the fireplace,
“and I will see that she gets o’er to you.”  As if he was dismissing her, he
turned his attention to another serving girl who had brought an order, and went
back to his business. 

She was a little put off by the abrupt dismissal, but
shortly after she had sat down at the indicated table, a server came by with a
platter of warm bread, sweet meats and roasted vegetables; mainly carrots,
parsnips and turnips, and asked after her preferred drink.  Her drink was
brought to her table relatively quickly as she counted out the six copper coins
to cover the cost of her meal.  She dug into her meal absently, barely tasting
any of the flavours, as her mind continued to go through the events of the past
week.  Nothing was making sense.

---o---

“What do you mean he hasn’t come back?!” Celia stammered out
after Hicks had relayed her story.  She had showed up just after eighth bell as
the red bearded man had said, a little flustered and unkempt.  “It’s been a
week!”

“Why do you think I came to see you?” Hicks responded
angrily.  “You and Salrissa were the last to see him, as far as I know, and
she
won’t talk to me!”  She put her head in her hands, looking down at the table. 
The serving girl had brought her a meal too, but it sat untouched at the side
of the table.  “I was hoping you would.”  She looked up into Celia’s eyes
questioningly.  “What happened that night?”

Celia told her, watching over Hicks’s shoulder as Marsen
fidgeted nervously with his mug at the third table over.  He was obviously
concerned for the time, but Celia wasn’t about to budge.  She glared at him
until he noticed, and then looked away ashamed as he settled himself to wait.

“Well that explains why Salrissa won’t talk to me,” the
blonde woman stated.  “I suspect she thinks it’s her fault.  Stupid woman.” 
She finally pulled the tray over and began pulling off small chunks of bread
and eating them.  ‘Explains why Goralon closed the border though.”

“Could she actually help?  I mean, what could she do?  The
Empire has him captive in The Depths, and as far as I have heard, no one has
escaped from that dungeon.”  Celia pondered her own questions.  If Salrissa
could get in the same way she got Celia out of the tower, that might explain a
lot, but how
did
that all work?

“Not sure.  Don’t really know her that well, but she seems
pretty sneaky, and is easily able to avoid me.  Not that I’m hard to avoid,
apparently” she chided Celia.

“I told you, I don’t know why the clerks didn’t try harder
to find me.  The embassy that the Emperor provided us with is not that big
after all.  I suspect they didn’t think to look for me in the archives vault. 
Wait, did you say Goralon has closed the borders?”

“Yes.  Rumors say it is a direct result of the attack on the
Goralon Merchants' Guild by Imperial forces.  Other rumors seem to imply a
variety of other things, but I suspect the first is true.  Somehow, the King of
Goralon has been informed and has taken it a slight against his country and is
retaliating by closing off trade.”  Hicks sighed as she picked up her mug and
took a drink.

“The warlock.” Celia muttered under her breath.  This seemed
like something he might want, some sort of chaos in the Empire, but why? 
Relations have always been strained between the Empire and the Kingdom of
Goralon ever since Randramas had crushed the Goralonian forces in the eastern
provinces eighty-something years ago.  She had thought things would get better
after the Imperial garrison had left Karvesh and returned to home soil, leaving
the Goralonians to their own self-destiny over a dozen years ago.

“Do you believe Salrissa can help Hoyle?” Celia asked the
other woman.

“I think she has already tried, and has failed.  That is why
I think she won’t talk to me; that is, until she is successful at finding him. 
Why do you ask?”  Hicks looked at her curiously.

“Because she just returned to her room,” Celia stated
matter-of-factly. 

Hicks turned and surveyed the room.  “How do you know?” she
asked.

“Magic,” Celia answered with a wink as she stood.  She noted
that Marsen stood as well, so she gestured him over.

“What’s he doing here?” Hicks asked, apparently alarmed at
the appearance of a city guard.

“He’s my escort, a chaperone to make sure I behave myself
this time.  He’s actually not a bad chap.”  Celia patted his arm like she was
petting a faithful hound.

“You’re not to leave without my presence.” Marsen stated
gruffly, puffing up his chest in his standard-issue leather armor.

“I know.  That’s why I gestured you over.  You might come in
useful this night.”  Celia started for the stairs to the second floor, the
trace spell she had cast almost a week ago still clinging to Salrissa’s armor,
though just barely.  She had only been able to sense it the moment she had
arrived in the building.  Otherwise she had not been able to track her for the
last two days, which was actually much less distracting than feeling the ‘jumps’
in her head each evening.  “Are you coming?” she threw over her shoulder at
Hicks and Marsen with more confidence than she actually felt.

They climbed the stairs with Celia in the lead, and followed
the balcony hall around the common room spread out below.  Celia could still
feel Salrissa in the room that they had planned in just a week ago.  As she
approached the room, she cast a spell, completing it just as she touched the
door handle.  She could feel the mechanism unlatch inside as the magic of her
spell activated.

“It’ll be locked –“ Hicks began, as Celia turned the knob
and pushed the door open – to find Salrissa in a battle stance with knives
drawn.  She began to move before she recognized who was at her door, black
leather rippling in the candlelight from the room and firelight from the fireplaces
below, but stopped her knife a handspan short of Celia’s throat.

Celia gulped quietly.  She had not thought through what
Salrissa, a trained assassin, might do if surprised. 
Stupid, stupid!
she
thought,
I have to do better
.  She gathered herself in the space of that
moment, and arched her eyebrow at the assassin and inquired with a lilt in her
voice she had heard other women use to taunt, “A little on edge, are we?”

“What do you want?” Salrissa demanded quietly, still
blocking the doorway into the room.  The band played still another jaunty tune
in the background.  Her gaze swept the three of them standing in the hallway.

“We want to help.  May we come in?” Celia requested dryly,
“Or should we discuss what we need to discuss out in the hall where anyone
could happen by?”  She was getting a little perturbed by Salrissa’s reluctance
for help.  Again she arched her eyebrow, which the other woman mirrored.

“You’re getting good at that,” Salrissa remarked as she
stood aside, knives still in her hands, and gestured the trio into the room.

“At what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Getting others to do what you want,” the assassin offered. 
She eyed the city guardsman uneasily.  “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if
he waited outside the room?”

“Probably, but I promised him I wouldn’t be out of his sight
all night.  And since I have kept him past when he was supposed to return me,
he is going to be in some trouble, so I owe him some sort of reason why.  Besides,
I have a suspicion that he might prove useful in the future.  Also, if he gets
us into trouble, I will cast a spell to make him a deaf-mute until the end of
his days, so I suspect that he will cooperate.  Yes?”  The last question was
directed at a now pale Marsen as he took the stool Celia sat on last time and
moved it near the door.  Celia had no such spell, nor was aware if one existed,
but Marsen didn’t know that.  She was shocked at her own boldness.