The Elements of Sorcery (4 page)

The White Orchid is one of the most raucous, ribald locales in the city. The proprietor claims that it has been in the same family for more than seven generations of slavers and pimps, but it was more likely to have been seized by whatever enterprising criminal happened to murder the previous owner, judging by the various bloodstains in every darkened corner and the wide, frightened eyes of the 'workers'.

It also happened to be where one could find every piece of underground news that passed amongst the ears of the lowest, most observant citizens, and a fair number of city guardsmen who were 'off duty' at the time.

Normally, venturing into the White Orchid is only something I would do if I happened to be extremely drunk or desperate, and I was neither. The chances of getting a knife in the back were only slightly less than the ones of successfully getting the bartender to serve a drink that wouldn't make you blind. Somehow, it actually made me feel better that there was a tall, dark and dangerous man with a crystal sword only a few steps behind me.

The Arbiter stuck out like a wolf in a henhouse. His drab clothing in dark colors struck a high contrast against the fine, brightly-colored silks and lace that filled the common room of the brothel. The coarse laughter emanating from within could be heard from the street, along with the shrieks – some playful, more less so – from the girls in the various rooms, booths and nooks. The entire place stank of sweat, ale, blood and sex, and I nearly had to cover my nose with the collar of my robe to avoid choking on the stench.

He seemed unfazed by it all, taking it in with those impassive, glowing eyes of his. Though his voice was low, it somehow carried perfectly to my ears. "What useful information could possibly be obtained in a place like this?"

"You'd be surprised," I shot back, though my own words seemed drowned by the din. Trying to mask my distaste, I sidled across the common room and slid onto a rickety stool in front of the bar counter. The Arbiter's measured steps sounded behind me, but he did not take a seat.

"This place is disgusting," I heard him murmur.

Doing my best to ignore Tal's acid words, I turned my attention to the fat, greasy man who stood behind the bar counter, rubbing a filthy rag along the back counter as though it were supposed to be cleaning something. "Alcar," I said, in a low, urgent tone. "Get me something to drink, would you?"

The fat man turned and gave me something like a grin, though it could only have been thusly described under the most charitable circumstances. "You don' come by here much anymore, do ya, Edar?"

"Whenever I can avoid it," I agreed genially. "I'll have the black Mard."

He slammed a stoneware mug onto the bar counter and filled it with a thick, almost syrupy dark liquid before sliding it down to me. I licked my lips nervously; while I enjoyed the occasional black Mard, it was not exactly conducive to straight thinking and good judgment. Unfortunately, there was no other way to get Alcar to talk, and the black Mard was the one thing he served that I could choke down.

With a grimace, I took a long pull from the dirty mug, fighting off my gag reflex as the sweet-and-bitter syrup flowed into my mouth and down my gullet. It left a burning sensation behind as it vanished into my throat, and I knew that I would be feeling the effects of the powerful alcohol within minutes. Unfortunately, the other things served at the White Orchid would have been far more vile even than that, and I didn't even want to consider what might be lurking in the brothel's water supply.

"Did you know there was an Arbiter in town?" I asked.

Alcar snorted, looking past me at the dark-haired man standing a few paces away. "So there is."

"Not that one," I said, shaking my head. "Another one."

"Two Arbiters?" Alcar asked, surprise not registering on his face. "That's new to me."

I leaned in close, and I could smell the bartender's smoke-and-whisky-stained breath. It made me want to return the black Mard and deposit the syrupy liquid back onto the bar. "Somebody
killed
the other one."

Alcar's eyes flashed for an instant, but then went dull again. "Thought you couldn't kill an Arbiter."

Dammit, there was something there, but I had no idea what it was. If anything was happening in the city, Alcar Deimovan would be the man who would know about it. The White Orchid was not just the most popular brothel and bar in town, it was also the crossroads for every kind of underground scum you could think of. Any piece of information worth knowing passed through here, and Alcar was at the center of all of it.

I inclined my head toward the Arbiter behind me and met his glittering gaze. "My friend here isn't feeling very talkative. Maybe we should offer a little something to jog his memory."

Tal took two steps forward and slid onto the stool beside me. He placed his thick arms on the counter before him and leaned forward. Alcar took a tiny step backward as the Arbiter's blue gaze locked on him.

"My name is D'Arden Tal," the Arbiter said, his voice that same low tone that carried effortlessly to precisely the place he wanted it to go. "Someone has killed one of my brethren in this city, and I intend to find out whom. You can either tell me what you know, or I will rip your throat out through your neck and nail it to the wall."

The fat man took another quivering step backward. "You ain't got no power here…"

Like a flash of lightning, the Arbiter's hand shot across the bar and grabbed the front of the bartender's clothing, wrapping in it like an iron vise as he dragged the bloated swill-dispenser forward until their faces were mere inches apart. He bared his teeth in a snarl as he glared into the piggish eyes before him.

"What. Do. You. Know?" the words came out like daggers, each with their own perfectly-honed point that almost caused me physical pain, though they were not thrown in my direction.

Alcar's face had gone whiter than fresh mountain snow. His bulbous lips worked, but no sound could escape the clenched throat. The white sclera showed all around the dingy brown of his eyes, and a vein was visibly pulsing in his forehead. The cobalt light shining from the Arbiter's eyes actually reflected off the pale, fishy face, making the bartender look like he'd just crawled fresh from the grave. He'd probably pissed himself, not that I'd have been able to smell it over the omnipresent overripe stench.

"S… someone m… might have said s… something about…"

"About
what
?" growled the Arbiter.

It was then I noticed the subtle but definite movement around us. The coarse laughter and shrieks had gone silent, and it dawned on me that the entire common room was now staring directly at us. Though no definite sound issued from the crowd, I could have sworn I heard the sounds of fingers drumming against knife hilts. I swallowed hard. The temperature hadn't changed, but a chill ran down my spine.

My heart rate kicked up several notches, a rush of blood began in my ears and I felt cold sweat bead on my forehead. I didn't hear if Alcar answered the Arbiter or not, because the danger wards that I keep active in order to warn me of an impending threat suddenly began ringing like a klaxon in my head. Someone intended me harm, and they were about to act on it.

Sorcery is a slippery thing. It's like trying to catch and hold an eel with your bare hands – difficult, wriggly and often slimy as you try desperately to grasp it firmly as it tries to escape. Manipulating manna is about as easy as herding cats; but simple things like magical wards, minor charms and love potions are both rote and reliable, after one has invested the requisite hundreds of late-night hours of routine and practice. Unfortunately, they can only be used for the most general of purposes.

For example: I now knew that someone intended me harm, but I had no idea which of the several dozen people it might be. Hell, it might even have been Alcar, except that the fat bartender was too frightened to be thinking about anything but the azure-eyed Arbiter threatening to open him from nose to crotch with a crystal sword.

Instead of doing the rational thing – calming down and figuring out who it was that intended to stab me, for instance – I panicked.

Out of all my vast options, I picked a parlor trick.

Then I amplified it about a thousandfold.

My hands flew into the air, and with my mind, I called out for the power that surrounds all living things… the power known as the manna. It flowed into my hands and I molded it like putty into the first thing that came into my head which might have possibly stood a remote chance of deflecting the imminent attack.

"
Aelzar forendas!
" I cried, turning to face the room.

A bright flash of white light leapt from my fingers – bright enough to cause several dozen simultaneous cries of agony to rise up from the common room. At the same instant, a loud
crack,
which rivaled the sound made by striking thunder, split the air.

The sudden aftermath of the spell left the entire room reeling. Except, of course, for the Arbiter, who simply turned to me with an implacable stare.

A knife, still quivering from the impact, jutted from the wall a few feet away. It had been thrown, clearly, but there was no good way to see where it had come from.

"We need to go, now," I urged the Arbiter.

He answered me with only a grunt, releasing his grip on Alcar and dropping the fat bartender unceremoniously to the splintered floorboards. I strode out of there with all haste, resisting the urge to pick up the front of my robes so I could scurry faster. It just wouldn't have made the impact I wanted. Tal was close on my heels.

"Did you get anything from him?" I asked, once we were safely away from the White Orchid.

"Lies and tales to frighten children," Tal muttered. "Nothing useful."

I arched one eyebrow. "What did he say?"

"He babbled something about a vampire," Tal said, and the disdain in his voice was thicker than the black Mard I'd been drinking. It was starting to go to my head already – the world was not quite blurry, but I was having trouble thinking straight. "As if anyone truly believes in
vampires
."

"Now… hold on just a second," I said, trying to keep my words from slurring. "Everyone here believes in vampires, because they're quite real and well-known. Are you telling me that an Arbiter, a defender against the horrors that lurk in the darkness, doesn't believe in something as simple and common as a vampire?"

He turned, stopping dead in his tracks, to glare at me. "You must be joking. A man possessed of a thirst for blood who wanders around dark alleys at night and preys on the unsuspecting? There are plenty of deviants out there who might fit that description, but there is not any such thing as a vampire."

"What do they teach you at that Tower?" I asked, the fire of liquor in my belly giving rise to courage I never knew I possessed. "A vampire isn't a man at all – it's a creature, no different than the worst kinds of corrupted horrors that you fight. They're akin to demons in that they often take the shape of a man, but instead of seeking to spread corruption through guile and deceit, they simply drain the life force out of living beings."

He continued to regard me skeptically. I blathered on; alcohol had the tendency to bring out the scholar in me. "It has to do with the equations detailed by Naegra Omishad in his seminal work
Manna Defined
, in which the vampire can…"

"Enough," Tal said, holding up his hand. "These creatures, if they exist as you say they do, must for some reason avoid the eastern lands. I have traveled these Old Kingdoms for many years, and never have I encountered such a demon."

"They tend to act quietly," I answered. "There probably aren't enough people in the east for them to bother – all of you are so spread out like you are. They rarely have to move once they establish a haunt that they like. I've never heard of a case of one attacking an Arbiter, though…"

"It must be incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid," Tal growled.

Thinking was becoming more and more difficult. "If there's a vampire here strong enough to kill an Arbiter…"

"This city is in a large amount of trouble," Tal finished. "How do we find it?"

I chewed my tongue thoughtfully. "Come with me. I have an idea."

"Now
this
is incredibly stupid," Tal grumbled.

"I happen to think it's one of my more brilliant ideas," I responded.

The liquor had finally cleared from my head, and somewhere around halfway through the execution of said brilliant idea I'd realized just how idiotic it really was.

Of course, by that time it had been too late to mention that I was afraid of heights.

We were perched atop the roof of the building in which I kept my lab. It had once been a temple to some false deity, though no one was certain how long ago that was. The true gods had been dead for thousands of years, and no one dared even speak the names of the ones which now ruled the world, much less build temples in their name. The belfry of the old temple had once held a true bell, but it was now gone, leaving only an empty, drafty space where a few dozen bats kept their roost.

It was near midnight now – vampires never showed themselves during the day; like most other horrors, they were powerless in the light of the sun. Now, though, the Deadmoon shone down from the black sky with its bleak white light, rendering everything in shades of gray. A cool breeze rippled across the city, respite from the heat of the day.

It provided an excellent view of most of the city, from the slanted roof of the belfry.

"How are we going to see anything from up here?" Tal asked.

"
We
are not going to see anything," I answered. "You, on the other hand, are going to watch with your Arbiter's Sight for indications of corruption. Vampires are powered by it, just like any other fel beast or demon. They're not subtle, and when it starts to feed, it should light up like a beacon."

"Then how would Daen have been surprised by it?" he asked.

"If the vampire knew about him prior to his gaining knowledge of its presence, there would have been no contest," I answered. "It would have known not to feed until it had dealt with him, and if your response was any indication, I doubt your friend would have believed anyone who did tell him about it."

The Arbiter tensed, and for a moment I feared that I was about to lose my life, but he huffed out a breath and relaxed again. "You're right. Gaerton never was particularly open-minded. I don't know why he asked me to come here… and I suppose I never will, now."

Silence reigned as he watched the city, and I tried not to shiver myself off the roof as the cool winds continued to blow across the belfry. My robe was designed for the heat of the day, not the chill of the night, and I felt oddly exposed on that roof.

Night brought a different kind of energy to the Old Bitch. I didn't often spend time in the streets after dark, because it brought out the worst kind of folk – thieves, rapers and murderers, assassins and purveyors of the most dangerous mind-altering substances known to man. During the day it was deadly enough, but once the sun set, any pretense of morality faded away into nothing beneath the light of the Deadmoon.

Life in the Old Kingdoms is short and bleak, and the Bitch has a kind of desperate quality underlying all of the depravity. It's as though the citizens want nothing more than to experience all the highs possible in a human life, before it's snuffed out by random murder or one of the many horrors that haunts the night.

Now, as if the mundane corruption in the hearts of men weren't enough, a damned
vampire
had moved into the city. It was enough to make me want to pick up my lab and travel to somewhere less populated, though business wouldn't be as good.

"There." The single word cut through the night air.

"You see him?"

Tal didn't answer, but slid down the slanted roof and swung himself easily onto the ledge inside the belfry. He immediately began descending the stone stairs while I scrabbled desperately not to lose my balance and plummet to the cobblestones below.

"What kind of idiot climbs a roof at midnight?" I muttered under my breath.