Practical adept book 17.., p.82
Practical Adept: Book 17 of the Spellmonger Series, page 82
My imagination provided a vision of a repulsive-looking creature with a single, enormous eye lurking in some dark corner of the catacombs beneath the city, using its magical powers to influence everyone above. It was a comically bad vision of evil, of course, but that’s how my mind works sometimes. I had seen too many legitimate horrors in my life – and far more in the lives of my ancient memories – to take such a image seriously, but it provided an interesting symbol of the problem.
The thing was, Tirkia wasn’t wrong – there was something, some force or organization, at work in Farise beyond the factions we’d identified. All organizations accumulate a kind of lore or legends involved with their history, from military units to baker’s guilds. Clandestine organizations weren’t immune from that. The Eye was real. Mavone and I had seen it, as we’d analyzed the chaos in the city. It would be easy enough to dismiss Tirkia’s mysterious, super-secret power if we hadn’t seen it for ourselves, first.
Nor was Tirkia ignorant; she was an educated adept, and she took the world very seriously. There was no facetiousness in her words, I could see – she believed in this Eye, whatever it was. So I had to take it seriously, too. Indeed, if she was correct, it might be the key to unraveling the tangled skein that was Farise.
“I believe you,” I said, sincerely. “Nothing is as it seems in Farise. Including the shadowy underground. No doubt there’s another, even more-secret cabal behind the Eye. That is the way of the world, alas.
“But it doesn’t change my plans, much. How does Pratt’s interrogation go?”
“It’s a matter of form, not a serious inquiry,” she admitted in disgust. “He breezed through the elementary magical trials, of course – any third-year apprentice could do that. He had a much harder time with the history, governance, and political questions, however. He was quite irritated with them, if you want to know the truth, and his answers were lackluster, at best. The judges were not impressed.
“He was headed into the military trials when Lemari and I left. I didn’t want to delay any longer, considering the state of the streets. We can protect ourselves, of course – Lemari has irionite, now. But when Osaba showed up and wanted to know the way to your practice, we brought him along. He is eager to speak with you. And since we’re in this part of town, I figured I would collect my sister and her family and bring them back to our home. Although I don’t know if it’s any safer there,” she confessed.
“I’ll send a couple of warmagi with you, and you can bring them here,” I decided. “It will be a little crowded, but this practice is one of the safest places to be in the city, at the moment. I think crossing the bridges right now would be difficult, I’m afraid. The mobs are seizing them. You and your family are safer here, for the night.”
“I don’t want to impose,” she said, guiltily.
“Consider it a tangible sign of our new alliance,” I shrugged. “As long as Pratt is prepared to face a vote of a quorum of Electors tomorrow, weathering one bad, stormy night is a small price to pay for what is at stake.”
“I agree,” she nodded. “I’ve endured worst hardships. You know, it is difficult to maintain a healthy amount of skepticism about you when you’re so gracious,” she chided. “Usually leaders of insurgencies are a little more cutthroat and threatening in their presentation.”
“I’m new at this spy business,” I admitted. “I fall back on charm when I can’t think of a way to be ruthless. It’s an amateurish ploy, but as long as it keeps working, I’ll use it.”
***
It was a dark and stormy night, that night. The sky was like an atmospheric reflection of the tumult in town. Lightning and wind conspired to churn the saturated streets below into a parody of the natural elements conflicting above. It was a night of darkness, a night of desperation, a night of despair.
Despite the pounding rain coming down in sheets the various mobs from across town continued their rampage. It turned from a series of riots to general mayhem within hours. Assorted factions took positions on the bridges across the river to try to control passage.
The costumed vigilantes and various gangs of thugs all seemed to be willing to beat up the Farisian People’s Army. The revolutionaries had far more members than anyone suspected, and though lightly armed their mobs descended on smaller factions and overwhelmed them by sheer numbers. Bodies were left behind in every encounter as the poor consumed themselves in their anger against the outrages of fortune.
The Alshari, for their part, retreated as much as they could back to their barracks, dragging their wounded behind them or abandoning them in the streets to preserve their own lives. Their commanders largely fled when they received no support from the Palace District, and once the rumor that Count Cingaran had been taken by force from the Garrison District all hope for the Alshari seemed lost.
Meanwhile, a solemn cenacle of adepts held the trials of Rellin Pratt in some underground chamber, relentlessly questioning the man about everything from trade policy to Farisian cultural institutions. It couldn’t have been fun – indeed, I had done my best to make the trials as tedious as possible – but Pratt had the determination necessary to carry him through. None of the problems were hard, but they did require some knowledge and foresight to answer. And there were a lot of them.
Despite the chaos, we knew what our course of action had to be. Now that we were aligned with the Contramara, it was decided that our best course of action was to wait out the chaos and then move in on whoever was left standing.
But waiting didn’t mean we were idle. Indeed, there was a lot of preparation needed for what was to come after. I spent much of the evening talking to people mind-to-mind, arranging the things that I needed and making certain the right people were in the right place in the right time. I spent almost an hour arranging for a truly staggering sum of gold to be withdrawn from the Wizard’s Mercantile, in my name, And I went through almost a ream of good parchment as I prepared for what was to come.
Meanwhile, there was a kind of triumphant reunion going on in the main room of the practice. Azar and Sandoval fawned over Durgan Jole, and the other warmagi who trained with him mobbed him like royalty. It didn’t take too many drinks to get them telling war stories.
Out on the front patio, the younger folk were having their own social event. Lemari met Atopol for the first time, was instantly enchanted by his purple eyes and easy manner, and Ruderal, Parru, and Larask cracked jokes about the sudden attraction between the two. It wasn’t until her cousins arrived that they deescalated the innuendo and relaxed into a less strained conversation. Of course, there was still a revolution going on outside; they weren’t ignorant of it, but they did a passably good job of ignoring it.
I met Lemari’s other aunt and her husband, too, when they arrived with their four children. They were both pleasantly plump and friendly, though their anxiety about what was happening was palpable. A couple of brandies and Jannik singing songs from the Wilderlands quickly put them at their ease. Noutha even sang a few, which was surprising. She’s not the most attractive woman in Farise, but she had a beautiful voice.
My final contact with the world before I went to bed was a conversation with Gareth, who had taken his station at the Gray Dome.
I’ve almost got the reactor ready to initiate, he boasted, when I made contact with him, mind-to-mind. Heeth and Rolof have been helpful, and I have four of my engineers assisting me. It’s been hard. But we’ve managed to establish control over the unit, now, and the emergency power cells we brought from Starlight are helping. I’d say we’ll have it running in the next day or so. Then we should have access to the entire archive shortly thereafter. I’ve initiated and installed a CI3 to help – his name is Buckminster. He’s been very helpful.
How are our prisoners? I asked. There had to be over fifty there, I knew.
Oh, they’re staying quiet, Gareth boasted. The first few gave me some guff about consequences, they offered to bribe me, and they got increasingly rowdy . . . until I littered the corridors outside of their cells with thaumaturgic constructs. They’ve never seen anything like that before. I also may have mentioned that we’re close to one of the cannibalistic tribes and the serpent cults who enjoy sacrifice so much. After that, they’ve been very well-behaved.
Well, Bendonal will be escorting a special prisoner to you tonight, I informed him. Count Cingaran, late of the occupation forces. He’s been apprehended for certain crimes against the Duchy of Alshar. He’s also an opium addict, so I apologize in advance for his behavior. That stuff is nasty, when you’re used to it and then don’t get it.
No one is going to hear him scream down here, Gareth assured. Really, the monks at their services on the ground floor can’t hear a thing from down here. This place was designed to sustain a direct hit from a ten-megaton explosion, he reminded me. There won’t be any noise complaints.
Any surprises, yet? I asked, hopefully.
No ancient caches of superweapons, if that’s what you’re asking, Gareth supplied. But I have found some interesting information. There are a couple of storehouses sealed away down here with supplies and equipment considered essential for re-establishing advanced civilization. I don’t know how much of it will be actually useful, but once we get the reactor running and open those units it should be very interesting.
I look forward to it, I agreed.
On another note, there is a question I have to ask you, he ventured. It may sound a little . . . odd. Did you suggest that Dara come see me in Starlight?
What? No! I assured him. I haven’t spoken to her in months. I heard she showed up at Starlight, though. I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable.
For me? No, I’m a happily married man, he insisted. But she asked me some odd questions. Odd even for her. I didn’t want to even talk with her, but she was insistent, so I indulged her. But they didn’t concern the operations at Starlight at all. They were more . . . personal in nature.
I sighed. Try to ignore it, I advised. She’s trying to figure out if she wants to be married or not, and with whom. I gave her some advice, but I didn’t think she would take it and run to you. Indeed, I tried to keep you out of it, I promised.
I thought as much, he agreed. It wasn’t a problem, really, just strange. I thought my problems with her were over, and here she comes blundering into my workshop right after I get married when I’m in the middle of an important project talking about . . . well, personal things. Very personal things. It was a little disturbing, he admitted.
Sorry, I offered. My apprentices have a tendency to be flaky, sometimes, and Dara’s in a difficult spot. Regardless, let’s continue to focus on the Fuller Institute, I insisted. That’s where your future lies.
I understand that, Gareth said with a mental sigh. This place is wonderful. It’s like a distillation of everything the original colony needed, all in one place. Well, except for the machines you’d need to actually build all the stuff you need to have the kind of civilization they did. But we have all the schematics, he declared, proudly. Given enough time, we can do everything else. Oh, he continued casually, before I came here with Heeth, I made certain the Junebug was refueled and ready to fly.
Really? It should have enough range to get to Farise, if you have it fully fueled. I don’t know why, but part of my soul wanted that old flying machine to work.
That would take too much time, he argued. So I popped the entire thing into a forty-ton hoxter pocket. It’s in a wand sitting on my desk at the moment. If you need the Junebug, I’ll send it back with Bendonal.
That . . . that would be magnificent, I decided. Things here have come to a head. Tomorrow promises to be filled with developments. Rellin Pratt is being examined for the position of Doge tonight, and tomorrow he will be voted on.
Pratt? You’re letting that rat become the doge of Farise? he asked, skeptically. Tyn and Ron won’t like that at all.
Nothing is what it seems, in Farise, I said, as Atopol let himself into my office and slumped in the chair in front of my desk. Besides, they were headed for the Goblin Kingdom, last I heard. They’re too far away to take offense. And they should trust my judgment. As should you, I reminded him.
I do, Gareth said, unconvincingly. You certainly get results. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter whose ruling in the city, if this lovely installation is unbothered by it. Really, having to put up with Farise is almost worth the price of opening the Gray Dome.
“You have a report?” I asked the Cat of Enultramar, when I ended the contact.
“She says I have the most beautiful eyes,” Atopol said, dreamily. “Honestly, she’s gorgeous. And smart. And Talented. And she smells good,” he added, with a smile.
“And she’s a terrorist,” I reminded him. “She’s likely killed more men than you have.”
“I dislike conflict,” Atopol shrugged. “But I don’t mind a girl who can handle herself.”
“She killed them with lightning. It was premeditated, and certainly not self-defense,” I pointed out.
“But she’s so pretty,” he argued. “I don’t care about her politics!”
“You’re just besotted because she happens to be a female thief – an assassin, actually,” I reminded him.
“I know, she shows real potential,” he agreed, continuing to smile. “She’s just learning shadowmagic. And a bit of warmagic. But have you heard her voice? It’s sultry, but strong. Silky, but resolute.”
“A lot like my mother’s,” I agreed, wryly. “But there are going to be problems if you court Lemari,” I predicted. “She’s . . . not like other girls. In a lot of ways. It could be problematic.”
“I have white hair, purple eyes, and a family legacy of secrets that goes back three centuries,” Cat dismissed. “There is no relationship I can aspire to that isn’t going to be problematic. She’s got some rough edges,” he conceded, “but there isn’t any compelling reason why I shouldn’t consider her,” he reasoned. “Is she promised to some cult as a sacrifice? Is she blood-bonded to some ancient demon? Is she betrothed to a pirate king? I can handle any of that,” he boasted, dismissively.
“Perhaps,” I agreed, coming to a decision of my own. “But she’s also my daughter. The product of a liaison I had with her mother back during the occupation. And I have given the little terrorist a witchstone. So you might want to reconsider any liberties you were considering taking with her,” I advised.
He gave me the grace of a good thirty seconds of a blank look that was a credit to his trade. A good thief ought not to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
“Your daughter?” he repeated.
“She is,” I nodded. “It has been confirmed. And with great confidence. You are only the fourth person to know this. I’ve told no one about her yet – including my own wife, my apprentices, and my staff. Please be advised I want to keep it that way, for now.”
“That’s . . . very interesting,” he concluded, swallowing hard.
“So if you want to pursue this suit, be warned that she has a highly overprotective father who she’s just recently met. You might want to tread cautiously,” I warned, “lest you run afoul of your future in-laws. As adept as you are, that might go poorly.”
Atopol studied me for a few moments, as he digested that fact. He was a hotshot young thief who had accomplished more in his short career than most of his colleagues did in a lifetime.
But I was Minalan the Spellmonger, leader of armies and one of the top twenty best warmagi in the world. A known family man who took his responsibilities seriously. Atopol knew me. He’d worked for me. It had always been a friendly relationship.
But he needed to know the rules. Lemari was my daughter, and I felt a distinct paternal responsibility for her even if I barely knew her. He was clearly infatuated with her, and wanted to pursue her. I wasn’t telling him no. But I was telling him to tread carefully.
He regarded me solemnly in silence for a few moments before he spoke.
“Master Minalan – Your Excellency – if you feel compelled to correct me in my behavior toward your daughter, I look forward to taking the beating that you will no doubt administer. But you will not dissuade me. The Cats of House Furtius know what we want – know who we want – from a very small pool of candidates. When we find the one that the Blessed Darkness has sent to us, there is no power in the mundane or the arcane that can stop us pursuing what we want,” he promised, proudly.
“Then I’m glad we understand each other,” I nodded. “But let me be clear. I have just met Lemari. I wish to get to know her better, before she gets herself married off to a dashing young shadowthief. Grant me that, at least. She is young. She has her education to complete. She has some destiny here in Farise that might conflict with your plans. Give me time to get to know this daughter, before you confuse her overmuch with love and admiration.”
Atopol considered. “Once you know she’s the one, it doesn’t really matter how much time you take to make it official,” he decided. “I can be patient. For a while.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, sincerely. “Give the girl some time to adjust to her new reality. She’s only fifteen,” I argued. “She’s already confused and conflicted by this revelation – not to mention the revolution happening in her country. Give her a little space. I’ll do my part to encourage the relationship, in time. But let me get to know her, before I give her to another man.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I bow to your judgment as her father. Even though she kind of hates you,” he added.
“That’s all I ask,” I agreed. Then I sighed with disgust.
“What?” Atopol asked, concerned.
“Now I have to dig another hole, once I get back to Sevendor,” I chuckled. “That’s a big undertaking, at my age.”
“A hole? For what?” the greatest thief in the world asked.
“In case you screw up and I have to hide a body,” I answered. “I do it for all my daughters. By hand. That way, I don’t feel guilty if I have to use it, one day.”
Atopol swallowed. “Good to know,” he nodded.
