Part 15 (1/2)
He paused outside a structure that seemed to be half-tavern, half-inn, seeing then forgetting the name on the sign, just noting the ubiquitous red paint. He went inside. The place had a solid business going and the food smells were good. Tempting, but he didn't dare stop for a late lunch, though something cold to drink would not be unwelcome. ”Yes, your lords.h.i.+p,” said a tall man behind the bar, apparently drawing conclusions from the new customer's fine clothes. ”How may I serve you?”
”Have you cold cider?”
”Hard or soft?”
”Soft.” Cadmus wanted a clear head. He could get drunk later tonight on excellent palace wine while the h.e.l.l-river flowed. d.a.m.ned thing. Literally. It had certainly put a dent in the social season. If informal evenings out were ever allowed again he could go back to winning Filima over, and this time succeed.
Since his love spell hadn't worked, he'd revert to personal charm. He hadlots of that.
The barman gave him a hefty crockery mug; its chilled contents proved quite a restorative for all that hard walking. Cadmus had nothing against physical exertion, provided it showed his manly form off to good advantage. Simplywalking around was so mundane, though he did cut a das.h.i.+ng figure, even in his less than best clothes. He'd dressed in dark colors, not those of his house, as he was desirous of anonymity and antic.i.p.ated the need to hide bloodstains.
Anch.o.r.ed to his hip was an elderly small-sword with a black blade. The newer ones were of a more flexible alloy that made them less p.r.o.ne to breakage and able to hold a sharp edge for longer, but they wouldn't have suited his purpose. This antique had cold iron in it, and that's all that mattered to him. One of his ancestors must have had it made up special just for the job of killing magicians, though gawd knows why. Kill one and the others all knew about it, worse than stirring up a nest of hornets. That had changed, though, since there were no more with Talent left in the city. Botello had seen to it.
Cadmus drained his mug, dropped a coin on the counter, and turned to leave. He froze, staring through the open door to the street beyond. It was all wavery, like the air above a fire. What in h.e.l.l wasthat ?
None of the wavering people walking past seemed aware of the phenomenon. This wasvery interesting.
He caught the barman's eye and pointed toward the door. ”Do you see anything odd out there?”
The tall, thin man squinted. ”Can't say as I do unless you want to count old Marloe across the way being awake this early in the afternoon. He usually don't stir 'til supper hour.”
”But you see nothing odd about the air?”
”Can't see air, your lords.h.i.+p,” the man stated.
A sensible answer, unless one possessed a touch of Talent. ”Very true. Then tell me, have you any interesting guests staying here? Anyone new? Perhaps from well out of town?”
”There's Mr. Myhr, very unusual-looking fellow, but friendly. Packs a good crowd in for lunch and supper with his show.”
”Show? What, he does tricks?”
”Sings, mostly, tells stories, lots of jokes, and you should see how he gets the room laughing when he spots a pretty gal.”
”But no magic tricks or illusions?” Cadmus had heard of some few Talents who went in for doing gaudydemonstrations of their craft, but there was no profit in it. Too exhausting and costly. The only ones who made a living at it were the fortune tellers, and it was rare you could find ones who had a true gift for it.
The rest were frauds. Overduke Anton had regular checks made on those practicing in Rumpock to make certain they were real and not cheating the public. Of course, they were all gone, too, thanks to Botello.
”No magic, your lords.h.i.+p. I don't hold with magic in my place. Unpredictable stuff, scares off the customers. Mr. Myhr's friend was asking after that stuff; had to tell him the same. You can talk to him about it.”
Oh, to h.e.l.l with his friend. Probably some hanger-on. Cadmus wanted the real wizard. ”Where is this Mr. Myhr?”
”Don't know. He got picked up and carried off by two fellers. One of 'em might be with Darmo House, Lady Filima's name was mentioned, the other was in a purple-and-green cloak, so I reckon he was with Burkus House.”
Cadmus hid his utter surprise with a deep frown. ”You're sure about those colors?”
”Hard to miss or forget. Anyway, these two fellers seemed to be looking for Mr. Myhr and carried him right out the door. I hope they bring him back soon, else I'll be stuck for a show for my early supper crowd. Popular he is, with his songs, stories, and 'specially that cat face he's got.”
”Cat face?”
”I didn't believe it myself when I clapped eyes on him, but it ain't no mask, that's his real face. Looks just like a cat, ears, mane, eyes, and all. It don't half mystify everyone.”
”Cat?” Cadmus worked hard to get his head around it. Perhaps if the wizard wanted an impressive disguise or to advertise his skills, he'd cast a glamour on himself. But why bother?
”Cat, your lords.h.i.+p.” The barman spoke slowly. ”Cat.”
Hehad to be the creature that had disrupted Botello's manifestation attempt. Which meant he was very probably the wizard Cadmus needed to kill. Odd, though, that Botello didn't sense its magic and draw it off. Too busy with Filima, most likely. ”When did you say he'd return?”
”I didn't. I said these two fellers took him away. Maybe he's singing at Darmo House, though how them up on the hill heard about him so quick is past me.”
Filima and her scrying session this morning, that was how. Like all the other remaining Talents she was trying to understand the mystery of the h.e.l.l-river and discover a way to get rid of it. Cadmus didn't think she was aware of Botello's connection to its appearance, not for certain, not in a way that could be proved. Botello hadn't said anything on what she might know. Whenever Filima was mentioned all he usually did was seethe. Maybe there was something to the murder rumor, but how couldshe have killed him without leaving a mark? Not magically, she just wasn't powerful enough. Well, no matter, work that one out later.
Perhaps she'd stumbled upon something important about this Myhr fellow. If he was a wizard, the impossibly powerful one that Botello wanted so badly, there was a chance he could do something about the problem. Hmm.If the wizard turned out to be up to the task, it might be better to not kill him. Let Filima charm him into helping. Or pay him. Not too much. If he found a way to send the h.e.l.l-river back and closed off the planar opening, then Botello would stay in h.e.l.l, leaving Cadmus free to console his grieving widow. If only she would grieve a little more openly. He was quite good at lending a shoulder to cry on, and what better way for him to get a set of well-muscled, comforting arms around her- Anotherhmm . If that wizard had a halfway decent love spell . . .
All right, so be it.
Cadmus was set to leave when the sight of the wavering street again halted his first step. He thought he knew what caused the effect and why he'd not detected any magic while outside. A s.h.i.+elding spell or guardian wards around the inn would do that. Either would have to be terrifically strong to hold up against the h.e.l.l-river and Botello's daylight leeching. Also very advanced, so as to be unnoticeable to those within it.
Now that he was conscious of the possibility, Cadmus shut his eyes and reached out beyond himself.
Yes, by concentrating he could feel the presence of a magical wall. Myhr must have set it up and let it run, definite indication of a powerful talent. Even Botello couldn't do it on that advanced a level. Not before his displacement. It might be a different story at present, but worry about it later.
Right, nothing for it but to go to Darmo House and inquire after the long-strayed Debreban. He'd been gone all day, and instead of following Filima's man as ordered he'd somehow teamed up with him. So theywere gossiping, about gawd knows what. Everyone did in Rumpock. It was the town's second most popular pastime.
While there Cadmus could make inquiries about this Myhr fellow. Filima should have no reason to keep him to herself, not if she was sincere about getting rid of the h.e.l.l-river, which she was. Why else expose herself to those miserable headaches with all her scrying?
But he couldn't go up to Darmo House on foot and ring the bell like a common peddler. And he couldn't let Filima see him in these unsuitable rags. No, a trip home to change and have his horse saddled was in order. Her prince of hearts would arrive in style on a prancing, arch-necked charger. With flowers. But not a too-large bouquet, something small and friendly, tasteful . . . cheap . . .
He plunged into the whirl of the street. Now that he'd attuned himself to the magic, he felt the difference between the s.h.i.+elded indoors and the unprotected outside. Cadmus detected a very slight internal tug, easily mistaken for indigestion or the like; no wonder he'd overlooked it before.
He strode away from the inn, but missed a step, having caught a flash of green and purple in the corner of his eye. He halted in mid-stride, which resulted in a minor collision between himself and some house woman walking behind. She snorted disapproval and moved around him.
Cadmus searched the crowds narrowly, seeking another glimpse. Had that been the missing Debreban?
If so, he was in for a good tongue-las.h.i.+ng. The nerve of him, running off all day to swill drink and gossip when he was supposed to report back about Filima's captain as ordered. Had he done as he was told, Cadmus was certain he'd have learned about this Myhr-the-cat-faced-mage a lot sooner; then Botello wouldn't have been so painfully unpleasant.
On the other hand, Cadmus now had an uncontrived excuse to drop in on Filima, so it hadn't turned outtoo badly. He must be off quickly though, or he wouldn't have much time to spend with her before leaving for the palace. Had to get there before the sunset curfew.
One last futile look, then he hurried away, grumbling.
Chapter Eight.
Outside Clem's Place ”Gawd, that was close,” breathed Debreban. ”He nearly saw me.”
”He nearly saw all of us,” corrected Shankey.
”You guys wanna get off me?” I asked, somewhat m.u.f.fled and breathless. ”Friends.h.i.+p is great, but I think we're moving way too fast here.”