The Archmage Unbound (31 page)

What could I have done to
make these two young strangers despise me so?
I wondered. Sir Harold jostled my elbow again, alerting me to the
fact that the king had left the platform. We were supposed to follow. I got
myself moving but I kept a portion of my mind on the young man and his sister.
They were leaving now, dispersing with the crowd, and heading in the opposite
direction.

I felt sure I could follow them,
mentally, so long as I wasn’t too distracted and they didn’t travel too far
away, but I worried the king would want to discuss matters once we had gotten free
of the crowds.

I needn’t have worried. As soon as we
got within the palace Edward turned to me, “We have more business to tend to
this afternoon so we won’t keep you. Our steward will send someone around
later with the documents you need to sign.”

“Documents?” I said questioningly.

“Deeds and letters, relating to the late
Baron’s estate… now yours,” he smiled, though the effect his smile produced was
more unnerving than reassuring.

“Of course your Majesty,” I said, giving
him a deferential bow. My mind was still distracted, trying to follow the
young man and his sister, steadily drawing further away. Thankfully the king
merely nodded at that and soon enough I was on my own again. I waited a long
minute until Edward had gone from my sight.

I started walking briskly in the
direction of the man I was still tracking, much to Harold’s dismay. “Your
Excellency!” he said, trying to get my attention.

“What,” I said gruffly.

“Would you mind telling me where we are
heading?” he asked.

“I have something to take care of… I’ll
meet you back at the house in a short while,” I informed him.

“I’m coming with you, your lordship,” he
said firmly.

“No, I’m afraid you are not,” I replied.

“Lord Dorian’s orders were very clear
sir,” he explained, almost apologetically, “my duty is to protect you, no
matter what the circumstances.”

“Who is your liege-lord?” I asked him.

“You my lord,” he said promptly.

“I’m ordering you to return to my house
and wait for me there,” I said sternly.

“I cannot obey that order your
Lordship,” he replied.

I laughed, “Be glad I am tolerant.” I
started walking back through the crowd. “Most lords would have you cut into
pieces for that sort of impertinence.” Before he could reply I reached out and
touched a stranger and spoke a phrase in Lycian. My appearance changed
instantly to match that of the man I had just touched. Poor Harold was
confused immediately.

Before he could sort things out I moved
further away and touched someone else, trading appearances as easily as some
people might change shirts. Soon enough I had lost my guards, and more
specifically Harold, completely. I almost felt bad about it. I knew he would
be sick with worry until I returned later.
Sorry Harold,
I thought.

I still had my mind fixed on that young
man and his sister. They were heading steadily away, close to the limit of my
range now as they made their way toward the city gates. I jogged when possible
to close the distance and soon I had caught up enough that I didn’t have to
worry about the range anymore. I followed at a fast pace then, to avoid
attracting attention or running into someone, since the streets were still
crowded.

I thought they might perhaps pass
through the gates but they turned aside before they reached them, heading into
one of the poorest districts of the city… a ramshackle collection of houses
built near the walls. I followed them, making note of the street names until
at last they entered a small dilapidated cottage. They stopped there, which
allowed me to catch up.

I dawdled in the street near their house
for a short while before I finally decided to simply knock on the door. I was
still wearing a stranger’s appearance so I didn’t think it could hurt. I gave
the door a few sharp raps and waited. After a minute it opened slightly and I
saw the young woman peering at me from one side. “Can I help you sir?” she
asked.

“Yes miss, I hope you can. Could you
tell me what address this is?” I replied politely. I did in fact have no idea
what the address was, and I needed the information for the next part of my
ruse.

She opened the door slightly wider,
probably thanks to my courteous tone. “This is number fourteen, Redbird Lane
sir… why do you ask?” she answered cautiously.

I tipped my head deferentially. I
almost attempted to tip my hat to her, but I wasn’t really sure if my
appearance included a hat or not, or what would happen if I tried to remove an
illusory cap. “Pardon the intrusion ma’am, my name is Stephen Dryer and I’m
trying to find my friend, a mister John Wheeler.” Of course none of that was
true, but sometimes a false statement is better than a question for getting
facts.

She pursed her lips, “I’m afraid there’s
no one here by that name sir, this is the Tucker residence.”

My face fell in an expression of
dismay. “Are you sure? This is the address I was given and I don’t know where
else to look. Could he possibly be one of your neighbors?”

Her look was sympathetic, “I don’t
recognize the name, perhaps if you describe him to me.”

I smiled inwardly. I already had the
address and their last name, anything more was icing on the cake. “Certainly
ma’am, he’s a young fellow, younger than me, perhaps seventeen years old by his
features. He’s got sandy brown hair and brown eyes and he stands about so
tall.” I held my hand up near my face to indicate my estimate of her brother’s
height.

She frowned, “That sounds just like my
brother sir, but his name is Peter, not John, so I doubt it could be him.”

I let my eyes widen in excitement, “Is
your brother in Miss? Perhaps he knows the fellow I’m looking for… if I could
just talk to him for a moment.”

I could see her hesitate as she
considered my words. “Well sir, he’s home at the moment but he’s not in a mood
for visitors,” she said finally.

I gave her a look of sincere
disappointment, “Please Miss, it would mean a lot to me.”

“Alright, just let me fetch him,” she
said with a sigh. “The house isn’t fit for visitors so you’ll have to wait out
here.”

I told her I didn’t mind and she shut
the door. Inwardly I was congratulating myself. I might not be as good at
courting and wooing women as Marc was, but I had a fair hand in dealing with
people in general. After a minute or two the door opened again, this time
fully, and standing in it was the man I had followed here, Peter Tucker. He
didn’t look very happy to see me.

He’d be even less happy if
he knew who I really was,
I thought. I held out
my hand but kept my face neutral. A smile might have annoyed him given his
current mood. “Sorry for bothering you, my name is Stephen Dryer. I’m looking
for a friend named John Wheeler.”

He shook my hand carefully, but didn’t
make the gesture any friendlier than it had to be. “Looks like you wasted your
time, there’s nobody by that name around here. What did you want to find him
for?” he asked.

“Just wanted to let him know about a job.
He’d been lookin’ for a while he said. I wanted to let him know about this
one before he ran off and… well never mind,” I said, as if I had reconsidered
my words.

Peter’s eyes lit with interest at the
word ‘job’. “What sort of job was it? I might be interested,” he said.

I paused, frowning, as if I was giving
serious thought to the question. “Well I don’t know if I should be sharing,
since I don’t know how many men they need...,” I let my sentence trail off
uncertainly.

“I don’t want to come between you and
your friend, but if they need more than one man I could use some luck right
about now,” he said carefully, as if he was afraid he might scare me off. Now
that I had him it was time to set my hook and see what sort of information I
could catch.

I looked him up and down. “You seem
like an alright fellow, and truth is I might not run into John for a few days.
I don’t think the offer will be open that long so I might as well help you
out.” My mind raced while my tongue wagged, I needed a job that might entice
this young man. His reaction would tell me much, but on the off chance he
didn’t give anything away a job that interested him might allow me to keep the
conversation going longer. Unfortunately I knew very little about him, other
than the fact he wasn’t very muscular.

“What sort of job is it?” he asked,
obviously somewhat anxious. As he spoke he lifted his hand to his face,
scratching the stubble of his fledgling beard; that was when I spotted the ink
stain.

“Well before you go getting excited I
should tell you first that the job needs someone that knows his letters,” I
informed him.

“Ha!” said Peter excitedly. “No problem
there.”

“Really?” I said with feigned surprise,
for less than a third of the common folk could read.

“My dad taught me, and I even had a job
as a clerk for a while,” he said proudly.

I grinned and slapped my leg. “This
might be your lucky day then!” I said excitedly. “One of the nobles is looking
for a messenger and junior scribe to come work for him, and the pay is
supposedly good.”

The younger sister had been listening
behind the door, but this news was too good for her to keep her distance. She
darted her head around the doorframe, “That would be perfect Peter! Think of
what we could…”

“Lily!” he barked. “Go inside and stop
eavesdropping!” Her face flinched at his tone and she ducked inside and shut
the door. He turned back to me before speaking again, “Which noble is it?”

“The new Protector of the Northern
Reach,” I answered loudly, “the Count di’Cameron, don’t ask me to tell you his
proper name though, I can never keep it straight.” I told him this with some
enthusiasm but I was watching him closely to see his reaction. I needn’t have
bothered; he didn’t hide his disdain at all.

Peter spat on the ground in disgust.
“Bah! I’d rather work shoveling manure for the rest of my life as take a job
for that blood-thirsty whoreson!” he announced.

I gave him a shocked look, “Well I
didn’t think you’d be offended…” I was hoping he might feel like elaborating
on his reasons.

Peter started to open his mouth but then
he shut it again, thinking carefully. Finally he replied, “Sorry, it really
isn’t your fault. I’ll let you get back to looking for your friend.” He
turned and headed into back inside, but he was visibly upset.

“Let me give you the details in case you
change your…,” the door closed before I could finish. I stared blankly at it
for a moment. I had hoped to find out more than that.
To hell with it,
I
thought. I knocked on the door again.

Lily opened it and this time she didn’t
bother hiding behind it. “I’m sorry. Peter’s not interested in that job.”

“Here, let me at least tell you the
address, in case he changes his mind. They might have a job that would suit
you as well,” I suggested.

Her face hardened. “There’s no way
either one of us would ever work for that bastard,” she said evenly and there
was steel in her voice.

My ruse had run its course, and there
wasn’t much hope I could get anything else from it so I took a chance on a
direct question, “But why not?”

Her expression changed then, it wasn’t
the burning fury I had seen the first time she looked upon me… this was a look
of despair mixed with resentment, a cooler anger, more acceptable for sharing
with a stranger. “He killed our grandfather,” she said coldly, and then she
shut the door. There was no doubt in my mind the conversation was over now.

I stood still for a long moment, before
turning away. A chill had washed over me, leaving me numb as I started walking
toward home.
He killed our grandfather,
she said over again in my
mind. I wasn’t sure who her grandfather was, but a deep sense of guilt welled
up. I had killed many men, but I only knew the names of a few.

I walked without paying attention to my
direction, wandering aimlessly while my mind ran in circles.
He killed our
grandfather.
I wondered how many families cursed me in Gododdin as well; I
had killed many more of their men. Assuming any of their families survived to
hate me, considering Mal’goroth’s assertion that he would sacrifice the
families of any soldier I killed.

Memories of the past year chased each
other through my mind, memories of people that had died.
This is the Tucker
residence,
she had said.
Tucker!
I screamed inwardly as I
remembered. “Jonathan Tucker!”

When I had come to ‘liberate’ my goods
from the royal warehouse last year, I had used my power to destroy a steel gate
and inadvertently killed an old guard. The heavy metal had been blown backward
with incredible force, completely severing his head. The tag carefully sewn
into his shirt had read, Jonathan Tucker. Had I just met the girl that had
embroidered that tag? Unbidden a vision of a thirteen year old girl diligently
working to mend her grandfather’s shirt rose in my mind, tormenting me.