The Alabaster Staff (22 page)

“What magic it had has been shattered and is fading
fast,” she said. “I’d say that Tharrad or one of his people broke it rather than let it fall into the hands of … my people.”

Kehrsyn took the pieces and turned them over in her hands, stunned that something that magical could be so readily sundered. She ran her thumb along the smooth surface of the scepter and down the edges of its carvings. She noted with surprise that a hollow tube ran down the center of the wand, empty save for a few motes of alabaster dust from when the item was broken.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” muttered Kehrsyn. She ran one finger around the smooth, hollow interior. “This is a really old item, lost for a long time, and now it’s gone, just like that. I thought this was important to them, important to Unther.”

“Regardless, it was a pointless waste,” murmured Tiglath. She looked at the bodies at the foot of the stair. “A real waste,” she repeated. “I wonder what the cause was?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Kehrsyn. “They knew that the Furifaxians had the staff, and they wanted it. That means they had some kind of inside information about its theft.”

“What?” responded Tiglath. “How would they know about something being stolen from a merchant house, let alone care?”

“Well, Tharrad … you, like, knew him, right? He said that they had allies who had someone on the inside of Wing’s Reach. They had a map, and they knew exactly where the staff was being kept.”

Kehrsyn stopped prattling and looked askance at Tiglath. The priestess looked blankly at Kehrsyn, then it dawned on her, too.

“Are you saying that I have a spy planted in Wing’s Reach? I have no such thing. Why would I give a wedge about a merchant?”

“Because he’s got the Staff of the Necromancer,” observed Kehrsyn.

She started to step away from Tiglath, resting one hand on the hilt of her rapier. Tiglath folded her arms and sank her head on her chest to think.

“That makes a vile sort of sense, you know,” the priestess said, rocking on her heels. “If my people are working behind my back, this is the sort of scheme they might buy in on, but infiltration is not their style—not
our
style, that is. No, the Staff of the Necromancer is supposed to be quite a potent weapon, and that’s what they’d be in it for. That makes me wonder if Furifax’s people didn’t actually double-cross my people.”

“How so?”

“Furifax convinces my church to attack Wing’s Reach to capture the staff, but the day before they send you in early to steal it. Immediately afterward, my people attack. They take the risk, take the blame, and get nothing to show for it, while Furifax gets the staff and avoids discovery.”

“That almost sounds like you’re defending your followers, when they’re running around behind your back,” observed Kehrsyn.

Tiglath snorted and said, “Old habits die hard. And, now that you point that out, that theory doesn’t shed any light on how my people found out, now does it?”

“So how are you going to find out the truth?” asked Kehrsyn.

“I don’t know,” Tiglath said. She paused, her mouth compressed, and blew air out of her nose like an angry bull. “Get used to lies and deceit, Kehrsyn,” she said. “These days, nothing in Messemprar is what it seems.”

“Does that include you?” Kehrsyn asked, looking at Tiglath from under her brows.

“Well, I certainly hope I’m more than a fat and angry old crone,” joked Tiglath. She paused, her eyes turned inward on her own soul. “And I hope, too,” she added, her eyes softening to sadness for just a moment, “that I’m not actually as cruel as I probably seem.”

Kehrsyn smiled, then her grin faded again as she ran her thumb across the carvings in the halves of the wand.

“Well,” said Tiglath, brushing dust off her hands, “I have some undesirable work to do among the faithful. An alliance has been broken, and somehow I doubt those who came here are likely to discuss the matter freely. Good day,” she said as she mounted the stairwell. “I do hope we can meet again.”

With that, the priestess left Kehrsyn standing at the base of the empty house, amidst broken oaths, broken bodies, and a broken wand.

N
ot knowing what else to do, Kehrsyn shouldered her bag, left the building, climbed down the ladder, and headed for the Thayan enclave to see Eileph.

He wanted to study that thing, she thought, so I guess there’s nothing stopping him now. Not that there’s anything really left to learn—Tiglath said the magic was fading—but really, I owe him the pieces of the wand.

She worked her way through the crowded streets of Messemprar. The snow had been plowed to slush and pressed away to the margins of the streets, leaving slick cobbles, cold mud, and, in places of greater shade, ice for her to contend with. The wind had picked up again and blew from the southeast in gusts. Kehrsyn pulled her cloak tighter around her face and shoulders and tried to ignore the fact that it smelled of someone else.

When she was most of the way to the enclave, Kehrsyn stopped in her tracks, rolled her eyes,
and changed her course for the Mage Bazaar. Of course Eileph would be there, in his tent, selling to a desperate public instead of lounging in his sanctum. She only hoped she would not have to wait long to see him.

At the entrance to the curtain walls that encircled the Red Wizards’ pavilion, the guard informed her that Eileph was not selling merchandise that day. He had remained in the enclave engaged in research. Kehrsyn rolled her eyes again and retraced her steps all the way back to the enclave.

She was admitted promptly, and once more found herself entering Eileph’s laboratory and erstwhile reception room. As she entered, the deformed wizard was carefully studying a small organ he had cut from the cadaver. The toad sat upon the corpse’s flayed face, an image that made Kehrsyn’s lower lip quiver with revulsion.

“Um … Eileph?” she said.

Eileph hobbled around, leaning on a gnarled cane as misshapen as he was. So did the toad, its amphibian feet slapping on the cold, dead musculature as it rotated its obese bulk in place. Kehrsyn tried very hard to ignore it, but the beast was unavoidably visible in her peripheral vision.

“Oh, mm-hmm, it’s you,” said Eileph. “I must tell you, it is rare I find myself anticipating anyone’s interruption, but you’ve managed to make yourself an exception, even if you are built like a wee wisp of an elf.”

“Thanks,” she said.

As she tried to figure out how to break the news, Kehrsyn smiled hollowly.

“Do your people have another commission for me? Hmm?” asked Eileph, waggling his fingers. “More gold for this tired old soul?”

“Well … no,” said Kehrsyn. “Basically, um, the reason I’m, y’know, here, is that they—well we, that is
—we
agreed that … you could sort of … study the, uh … the staff.
When we were through with it. And … I guess we’re kind of through with it.”

With those words, Kehrsyn placed the broken halves of the wand on a relatively flat pile of papers on the worktable, there being no spot that was actually clear of clutter.

Eileph’s jaw dropped, and his skin went deathly pale. One hand clutched at his jersey, just over his heart. He began to hobble over to the remnants of the staff.

The toad began croaking loudly, and Eileph burst into braying laughter. It was a jarring duet. Kehrsyn tried to smile, but her unease made it look like she was going to vomit, which, truth be told, was not entirely out of the question.

Eileph drew in a deep, gasping, rasping breath and slapped the table.

“You shouldn’t scare an old man like that, young lady, you really had me going!” He closed his solitary eye and began pounding on his forehead with two stubby fingers. “Oh my, oh, dearie me,” he laughed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to spit for a tenday, you scared me so bad!”

“What?” asked Kehrsyn.

“What? Why, because this is the decoy, youngster!” guffawed Eileph, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his empty eye.

“Decoy?” echoed Kehrsyn, trying very hard to catch up with events.

“Well,” he said, “I see that it fooled you, eh, young lady? Don’t let it stop your wee little heart. This is what I was working on for you lot, a copy of the staff you’d marked for acquisition. Here,” he said, as he hobbled over and picked up the halves, “let me show you what I did. Superb carving work, if I do say so myself.”

He moved so close that he had to crane his head up to look at Kehrsyn. He held the halves aloft for her inspection, spinning them and pointing to the pieces as he spoke.

“See? First of all, this is stone, not bone like the original.
Didn’t have any good bones handy, but it looks much the same as a weathered bone, and anyway that organic stuff is a regular mess to carve properly. But stone is heavier, so I had to hollow it out just like this to match the weight properly. Now this side you already saw in the sketches I showed you, but I didn’t know what this side looked like, so I had to wait for your delivery to be able to duplicate it. Hard work, too, but I’d already had practice in the style with this first side here. The river and setting the jeweler made, and laid the black amber and smoky quartz to match the original. Then I cast Mythrellaa’s Lust upon it—that’s a rather more stylish version of the Fool’s Aura, a little trick the zulkir gave me in payment for a small service I’d rendered her. And there it was, all but indistinguishable from the original, except, of course, it wouldn’t work.”

“That’s … very impressive,” said Kehrsyn, stepping back to get some personal space between her and the sour-smelling magician.

“Hmph,” said Eileph, inspecting the pieces. “Of course, that doesn’t explain how this came to be broken.”

“They don’t tell me such things,” said Kehrsyn, pleased that she’d come up with such a plausible non-answer off the cuff.

“And who does?” yelled Eileph, flicking a finger at Kehrsyn. “Oh, I know all about such things,” he said as he hobbled away, then stopped dead in his tracks. “Or, more accurately, I don’t. You see, the zulkirs and tharcions, and all the Red Wizards are very good at not telling things.” He hobbled back over to Kehrsyn and stood too close again. “Which makes it very scary,” he whispered, “when one considers all that one has been taught by others who thrive on secrets. It makes one wonder how much knowledge they hold back! And that makes all of us hunger for that knowledge, plot for it, scheme for it …” Eileph’s arm started to tremble, tapping his cane on the floor. “Good thing I’m such a stable person,” he said.

Kehrsyn nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack were she to lie at that moment.

“Well,” said Eileph, as he started back to the cadaver.

He tossed the halves on his table as he passed. Kehrsyn thought maybe the fake one would pass inspection at Wing’s Reach, at least until she got the real one. She feared returning empty-handed with Ahegi lurking around.

“Um, Eileph, sir?” asked Kehrsyn. “Can you fix it?”

Eileph whipped around, staggering when his whirl exceeded his balance.

“What?” he bellowed. “First they destroy my art and now they say, ‘Jump, Eileph, fix the staff!’ What do they think I am, a trained homunculus?”

“Standard rates,” said Kehrsyn, raising her voice to be heard over Eileph’s tirade. “Double for a rush job.”

Eileph’s countenance softened in an instant. He picked up the two halves and fitted them together, working his jaw from side to side.

“Hmph,” he said. “I can do it, young lady, never you fret. I can have it for you tonight, if you don’t mind a bit of a crack, or tomorrow for a job as good as new. If you want one carved afresh, that’ll take a while.”

“How big a crack are we talking about?”

“Oh, not a very big one,” said Eileph. “Fit the halves together and take a look. I can make it a bit better than that.”

Kehrsyn fiddled with the broken pieces. The crack would be just a hair wide.

“That’d be great,” she said, handing the pieces over.

Eileph limped back over to her and patted her hand gently, almost tenderly.

“Don’t you fret your heart, young lady. I’ll have it delivered tonight,” he said, with a smile that was the picture of warmth despite the malformed frame in which it appeared.