The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (25 page)

Firuz mulled on
this for several seconds before grunting. “It’s not a bad plan. I approve of
it. Fine, I will spread this rumor and make sure that none of my court knows
any differently. But I am not sure if this is wise, Sevana. This man is
powerful, you have said that yourself. Should you be drawing him to you like
this?”

“I said he was
crafty and evil,” she corrected with a lip curl. “But I don’t think he’s
particularly powerful. I think he’s as powerful as any other Artifactor, he
just knows more and he’s more ruthless than we are. I’ll have a sentient
mountain to guard me, my master helping me, and a Fae tracker to guard my
back,” she added this with a sideways glance at Aran, who nodded firmly in
confirmation, “so it’s not like I plan to face this dastard alone. He might
cause some damage, but with the four of us combined, there’s no possibility of
him escaping.”

The celebration
of Amas’s safe return started that night and looked like it had every intention
of carrying on for the rest of the week. At least. Sevana had no intention to
lay around drinking, eating, and becoming as bloated as a pig headed for
slaughter. The next morning, while people were still recovering from the night before,
she grabbed Aran and slipped through her clock to back home.

She found
Master had beaten them there, if only just, as he was deactivating the clock
that went to Belen. He regarded them with surprise as they stepped through.
“Done already?”

“You left early
for the same reason, I bet,” she drawled with a pointed look. “All they’re
going to do is feast for the next week.”

He nodded
affirmation and waited as she deactivated the clock to Sa Kao. “So, where do we
start with the traps? Further back and then work our way to the front?”

“That’s the
most sensible approach.” Turning to Aran, she said firmly, “You should not be
here while we’re doing this. It’ll be hazardous in the extreme.”

Aran
forestalled the rest of her warnings with a raised hand. “I already suspected
as much. I’ll take these gifts from the queen to Aranhil and give a final
report. I’ll also start preparing our end of things. I’ll be back in two days?”
It was clear the question was for her, as he wasn’t sure how much time she
needed.

“I think we’ll
be done by then.” Sevana ran through a checklist in her head and nodded slowly.
“Yes, I think that will be just fine. But come in through the front door. That
I’ll rig last.”

“Understood.” Hefting
the two crates crammed with fruits, breads, and jars of flavored water, he gave
them an airy, “See you in two days, then,” and waltzed out of the mountain.

Sevana eyed his
retreat with irritation. Would it have hurt to leave just
one
piece of
naan behind? It would have been perfect for breakfast. Sighing, she gave up the
idea and headed for the kitchen. “Master, I think a quick meal of oats and
fruit, and then to work.”

“Are you
cooking?”

“I want to live
to see tomorrow, so yes, I am.”

Chuckling, her
master trailed along behind.

After a quick
breakfast, and an even quicker cleanup, they went to work.

The plan in
itself was simple but its execution would be tricky. No wizard, sorcerer,
shaman, or even Artifactor could just fire off infinite spells without
eventually running out of magic and the elements needed to craft spells.
Nothing was infinite, magic especially. A well-crafted tool or spell could
sustain itself by the resources around it, but portable spells just couldn’t do
that. Sevana knew that the man they were targeting would have only portable
spells on him and in limited quantity. There was only so much a human being
could carry after all. Even his wands couldn’t last forever as they needed
spell elements and his magic to draw upon to work.

So their plan
was simple: exhaust him. Drain him of all the magic, make him use all of the
pre-made spells he had on hand, force him to use anything and everything on
him. Then, when he was at his weakest, only then move in.

Big had been
rerouting the tunnels while they were in Sa Kao and Belen, as it wasn’t safe to
be in him when he was doing a major re-arrange like that, and now it was a
veritable labyrinth inside. It took his silent cues of slopping the floors down
to make sure they were heading in the right direction and not just wandering
around in circles. The redesign was essential. It was not only to confuse their
prey but also so that he would slowly be forced towards the back side of the
mountain and out into Fae territory. Aran would ensure that a veritably army of
Fae were waiting for this man. They would finish the job and cart him off.

They couldn’t
just willy-nilly set traps. To begin with, they hadn’t devised them all yet.
Sevana went through every tunnel with Master, marking out possible locations,
and between them they worked out what spells would be the most effective in
each place. Just the planning took two days and it was mentally and physically
exhausting, tramping through Big back and forth, up and down, and then doing it
all over again.

They had to
take breaks and eat of course. Their own magical energy couldn’t sustain this
constant drain either without some sort of replenishing going on. Master made
sure they both slept a solid eight hours each night as well. But after the
planning was done, they started making the traps, which taxed them all over
again. After spending twelve hours hunched over a table, crafting trap after
spell after curse, it sent her eyes to crossing and put knots upon knots in her
shoulders.

With the last
one done, she and Master collapsed in front of her fireplace, limbs sprawling
every direction, head hanging over the back of their chairs. “Why did I say
we’d do this in two days?” she groaned.

“I was
wondering that when you said it. I didn’t think we were on that tight of a
deadline.”

“We don’t know
when he’s actually going to come,” she pointed out. Or if he’d take the bait.

“Certainly,
that’s true, but there’s no way the man can hear the rumor and react in the
first week. We’re not even sure if two weeks will be enough time.”

That was also
true. Well, it was a moot point to debate now. “Before we set the lethal traps,
I want to run a test. Have Kip and Aran go through the tunnels and see what
traps they bungle into.”

Master gave a
weary nod, flicking a hand. “I assumed as much when I saw you making those
traps with the paint inside. That’s fine. It’s not a bad idea, actually. There
are some spots I’m not sure about.”

Neither was she,
which was why she wanted to run the test.

From the front
door, there was a called complaint. “Sev! Tell Big to let me in!”

Morgan? Now
what was he doing back here? She pushed her way to her feet and staggered
toward the front door. Only after she had double checked that none of the traps
near the front door were active did she say, “Big, it’s fine, he can come in.”

With a glare up
at the mountain, Morgan came in, a bag over his shoulder. “Surely you don’t
have this place booby-trapped already.”

“We do,
actually.” At his incredulous look, she defended, “We don’t know when that
dastard is actually going to arrive. Better safe than sorry. Now, what are you
doing here?”

“Partially to
tell you everything I’ve been doing, partially to hand in several job offers
that I received in Sa Kao, and partially to borrow your soap whirly-wig.”

At this last,
she gave him a flat stare. “Kip. Do your own laundry.”

“Now why should
I do that when the whirly-wig will do it for me?” He gave her a particularly
brilliant, charming smile. “Besides, while my laundry is being spun about, you
can tell me in detail what trade rights you now have with the Fae.”

True, she had
only mentioned to him in passing that her status with the Fae had changed, and
a little of what that meant, so it would be better to give him a more in-depth
explanation. They needed to move on that before the offer cooled and people
thought she wasn’t that interested. “Well, alright, you do have a lot of things
to tell me and I, you. But be warned, this place is not at all safe for you. There’s
only a few rooms that are safe to go in and out of.”

Ticking them
off on one hand, Morgan rattled off, “Main room, your workroom, kitchen,
bathroom, the guest bedrooms.”

That much was
obvious, huh. “Sling your bag into your usual room, then. I’m going to collapse
in the main room until dinner.”

Stepping
outside for a moment, he brought a large wicker basket inside and hefted it. “I
brought dinner.”

Sevana eyed it,
licking her lips. “Is that shepherd’s pie and fresh bread I smell?”

“I have fried
apple pies in there too.”

Praise heavens
she didn’t have to cook after all. Taking the basket with both hands, she said
haughtily, “Your fee for a night’s stay is accepted.”

“I thank you
for your hospitality,” Morgan responded, playing along. “I’ll throw my clothes
into the wash and be right with you.”

“Be right with
me in the kitchen, I’m not letting this cool.” Sticking her head into the main
room, she told a half-asleep master, “Kip brought shepherd’s pie, fried apple
pies, and fresh bread.”

The man’s eyes
sprang open and he was half out of his chair before he said, “Is it dinner
time?”

“It is now.”
Grinning, she retreated back into the kitchen. Setting the basket on the table,
she carefully lifted hot pans and bread out, then put the basket out of the way
on the floor. Master lost no time in helping her set out plates and utensils.
She grabbed one of her special plate warmers and loaded a plate before setting
it on top and covering it with a dome fly net. Setting that aside, she went
about filling a plate for herself.

Morgan came in
and noticed this with a brief quirk of the brow. “We expecting someone?”

“Aran.” Sevana
glanced up long enough to hand him a plate before settling at the head of the
table with her own. “He passed along a message through Baby that he would
probably be back here by dinner.”

There was an
odd look on Morgan’s face as he said, “That so. And, ah, why is he hanging
about here? When we don’t expect any evil magicians to pop up for at least
another week or two?”

“It’s an
interesting question, isn’t it,” Master agreed with a suspicious twinkle in his
eye.

Sevana glanced
between the two of them, puzzled and frustrated by her puzzlement. They were
obviously on the same page about something, as the undercurrents were clear,
but she didn’t follow what they were talking about. “Why shouldn’t Aran be back
tonight? He wants to stay here just in case we’re wrong in our assumptions.”

Popping a bite
in his mouth, Morgan thought on that and chewed before swallowing. “Is that
what he said?”

She opened her
mouth to say of course it was, but on second thought, she’d assumed why. All
Aran had said to her was that he would be back tonight at some point and he’d
be staying until this whole situation resolved itself. For some reason, her
hesitation in answering made both men smirk at her. But she knew good and well
that if she demanded an answer, they’d smugly say it was nothing and wouldn’t
give her a straight response. She’d have to weasel it out of them later.
Glaring at the pair of them, she switched the topic.

“So, Kip, trade
rights.”

He perked up,
happily going to this more profitable conversation. “Trade rights. What do we
have?”

“As far as I
can tell, and I did ask, we almost have carte blanche. As long as it’s not a specialized
tool, or something that is a Fae specialty, we can trade for it. So their
simple trade goods, elements, and so forth are open game. They requested—it was
more like a demand, really—that we send children to not just Noppers. I’m going
to have to find some way to divvy this up evenly or it’s going to be a real
headache later.”

Morgan grimaced
agreement. “It certainly will.”

“Perhaps do it
by location,” Master suggested. “Whoever is closest is the one that you take
the child to.”

That sounded
like a neat, simple resolution to the problem. “As long as that keeps the
numbers more or less even, I think I’ll do just that. Anyway, Kip, keep your
eye out for potential Fae children.”

“Let me see if
I remember the checklist you gave me. Under ten, no family or relations, not
magically touched. Is that it?”

“That’s it,”
she agreed. Morgan had an excellent mind for details and a good memory. That
was why he was so competent in business.

“I’ll keep an
eye out,” Morgan promised. With a sideways look at her, he mentioned in a tone
that wasn’t quite off-hand, “You now have three kings that owe you major
favors. Perhaps you can cash those in? Say that you want any orphaned children
under ten years old?”

Sevana’s eyes
crossed at the thought. “That would mean giving the Fae a
lot
of
children in a very short amount of time.”

“We would
welcome the burden,” Aran informed her, stepping into the kitchen. He looked
beyond pleased at this thought. “Do you think that if we ask, they will be
willing to hand their citizens over?”

Morgan rotated
in his chair enough to face the man and answer forthrightly, “It’s actually
better for them if they do. Orphaned children are usually on the streets, and
the only way they can survive is by petty crimes, which leads to all sorts of
trouble later on. If you can catch them early on, it nips the problem in the
bud. They’ll be able to take a whole generation of potential thieves out of
their main cities in one fell swoop.”

Come to think
of it, that was exactly what it was. “Kip, that’s a brilliant way of putting
it.”

“I’ll say
exactly that to the kings, if you want me to,” he offered. “Divvy those kids up
between all the Fae nations, and it won’t be a burden to any one territory. On
top of that, the kids will be able to have siblings, as long as Fae parents are
willing to raise more than one child at a time.”