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Zoya sensed it long before she saw it. The pulse of magic filled the air around her, as it did when she approached the Mage's Guild – but here, the magic had the burning, icy scent of unformed, wild magic. She turned a corner, feeling with the fingers of her mind – and there it was. She pointed, and Alranis sighted along her arm, letting out a long, low whistle. "The devil's very own hell," he muttered. "It's not an evil place," Zoya protested. "'Not what I meant. The place is... shifty." Zoya half suspected him of making a joke. The Tower was shifty, in a very literal sense. The uppermost balustrade, where any normal keep would have its battlements covered with gargoyles or other downspout decorations, changed its shape every few seconds, making it difficult for the eye to rest there. The entire place was odd. Attempting to line up the windows to count floors was a mistake. Its front door was sideways, the hinges at shoulder-level. At least one of the conical tower roofs pointed down into the tower interior. It defied all logic, common sense, and intuition. To Zoya's eyes, it was a shining and beautiful place, a mystery that would satiate her burning desire to know, while still giving her a place to rest when she was weary of adventuring. "Are you backing out on me?" she asked sharply. He considered for a moment. "S'pose not. You sure you want to do this?" She responded with no hesitation. "Absolutely." "You sure you can take care of mage-traps?" She shrugged. She hadn't encountered any mage-set traps when she'd stumbled into the Tower five years ago. If any had appeared in the meantime, well, it depended on the skill of the mage who set the trap. If she began explaining things to Alranis, though, he would stare at her in a deliberately vacant way that irritated her to no end. He was a competent thief with no apparent fear of the Tower, though, and that was why Zoya had hired him. When they were a hundred yards from the Tower, Alranis put his hand on Zoya's arm. "Wait here while I go check the door." "I don't think it's locked," Zoya protested. "It wasn't last time." "I'm more concerned about traps. Anything that can move like that can set up its own traps. Maybe it's gotten more cautious since you were last here." Zoya thought he sounded slightly mocking. "Anyway, it's what you're paying me for. You know magic, I know traps. That was the deal. Keep an eye on me. I'll signal when it's open." He moved off without waiting for an answer. Zoya tried to watch him as he moved toward the Tower, but he kept slipping into the shadows, and she lost him. She sighed. She had no talent whatsoever for reconnaissance. Instead, she watched the door. A few minutes later, Alranis emerged from the shadows. He laid one hand gingerly on the door, then tried to lift the latch. Much to Zoya's surprise, the door seemed to be locked. After some fidgeting with the lock, Alranis beckoned her over. She half expected the Tower to flicker and disappear as she approached, but it remained solid, if protean. When she came within hearing range, Alranis spoke softly, "There's some sort of magelock." Zoya, on a hunch, had spent the previous evening studying nothing but chaos magic. She was quite capable of the rigid spellcasting that other members of the Mage's Guild preferred, but for this mission, it somehow seemed appropriate that she use the harder-to-tame flows of what the others called wild magic. Now, as she summoned her mage-sight and began gathering strands of energy she knew with a sudden flash of intuition that it had been the right thing to do. Quickly, she wove a shining lock-pick of energy with her mind, and aimed it toward the door. The spell was slippery, and she concentrated fiercely on holding it. Alranis, able to see none of the struggle, leaned against the wall and coughed. It was enough to break Zoya's concentration, and the shape broke away from her, suddenly morphing into a real key that dropped at her feet. Alranis looked down at the soft clank. "Nice bit of magic," he commented. Zoya didn't bother to explain that it wasn't what she'd intended. She picked up the key and tried it in the lock. The key turned smoothly, and the door unlocked with a soft snick. As she withdrew the key, it faded into softly glowing orange smoke. Alranis carefully lifted the latch and pulled at the door, and then strained. It took a moment before they realized that although the door appeared sideways, and the doorknob was actually near the ground, it actually opened like a normal door. "What an illusion," breathed Zoya. Alranis cast her a chiding look, then cautiously opened it wide enough for them to slip inside. Just inside, hanging on a hook across from the door, was a long necklace, made of black pearls and black opals, accented with impossibly delicate silver flowers. Alranis' breath caught, and he crossed the small room and lifted one end of the chain to examine it closely. Zoya watched him curiously. "What is it?" "Brighteyes," he answered, his voice nearly a whisper, his thoughts far away. "What?" He shook his head and looked up. "Brighteyes. She was a thief. One of the best. Worked only in jewels when she wasn't adventuring. A damned good jeweler, too. This is her work." "What's it doing here?" "I don't know." Zoya could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth. "Don't thieves usually take things?" Alranis shrugged. "Rumor has it she was Erdian's lover. Maybe
this was a mourning- Zoya's eyes narrowed. "So you had heard of him before." "Nope. But I did some checking around after you told me what you knew." "I thought I'd covered every living person in Marsember!" Alranis grinned. "I have a few sources you probably never found." The first rule of information gathering, Zoya had learned, was: Zig when they expect you to zag. "What happened to her?" "What?" "Brighteyes. Is she dead?" Alranis shook his head. "Don't know. No one does. Haven't heard word of her in years, though. She was an elf, but she'd lived a hard life. She might have taken the long walk." Zoya mentally filed that away. "Look, there's the hallway I went down last time." She started toward the entryway, but Alranis swiftly intercepted her. "I'm to look for the mundane traps, yes?" She sighed impatiently and nodded. He checked the door thoroughly, then moved cautiously into the hallway. "Now that we're here, what are you looking for?" "The laboratory, first," Zoya answered. Her excitement leaked through, staining her pose of calm detachment. She'd found it. It was real, and she'd found it again. "A wizard's lab? What are you going to do there? You promised, just this one night," protested Alranis. "Nothing ever comes out of a wizard's lab in just one night!" "I'm going to attempt a summoning." "Summoning? What are you summoning?" Alranis sounded distinctly nervous. "I haven't been entirely honest with you," Zoya said, continuing to walk slowly down the hall, peering into the rooms. "Erdian did die, but most say he's not gone. If his spirit had dissipated, this tower would have gradually lost its magic. It certainly wouldn't have been able to do the bouncing around it does." "Dammit," Alranis blustered, "I said mages were bad business! I didn't come prepared for a blessed lich!" "He's not undead. There's nothing evil at all about this place. But his spirit was strong, and still is, so I'm going to try to talk to him." She walked past him down the hallway, ignoring his protests. They had been wandering for close to an hour – through what seemed like an endless succession of rooms that looked almost identical – when Zoya came to a halt and leaned against a pillar, frowning. "This is ridiculous," she snapped. "You're telling me?" Alranis muttered. "Last time, it only took me five minutes to find the lab. I'm still being tested." "If you say so." Zoya lunged clumsily past him and lifted a small, heavy statue from a decorative nook in the wall. "I have seen this statue before," she insisted. Alranis looked at her speculatively. "There are a lot of statues in this hallway. They all look pretty much the same to me." She hrmphed her disbelief and took a few steps down the hall. She pulled out another statue. "They're different. This one," she held up the first statue, "has a goatee and no mustache. The other has a straight-cut beard, and a small mustache." "You notice that just walking by?" She shrugged. "When one uses chaos magic, one learns to pay attention to small details." "Why?" She looked at him askance, wondering whether an explanation would generate another vacantly bored look. It probably would. She shrugged. "The brush of a butterfly's wing," she said, quoting her old master, "can change the weather across the sea." Alranis frowned. "You saying we're being led in circles?" "Something like that." "Then what are we going to do about it?" "I'm going to transport us elsewhere." "Isn't that dangerous?" "Yes. Be quiet so I can concentrate." Alranis opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Zoya had already begun casting. Pulling tightly on the heavy lines of chaos magic that surrounded them, Zoya attempted to build a portal. But the magic was too wild, too much for something as delicate as a portal, and they slipped away from her. She sighed. "Well, so much for that..." She trailed off. Where the magic had slid, there was a soft dusting of light blue powder falling on the floor. "Well... It's not what I had in mind, but it might lead us somewhere useful. At least we'll know for sure if we come full circle. Come on." She started down the hall in the direction the blue powder led. The powder continued to sift to the floor, staying always ten or fifteen feet ahead of them. Shortly, they were in a recognizably different portion of the tower. Only a few minutes after that, the powder finally faded away, leaving them standing in front of a thick, ornately carved door. Zoya became excited. "This is it!" she exclaimed. "This is what?" Alranis asked, suspiciously. "The lab! I definitely remember this door!" She reached out to open it. "Wait! I should check it for traps, first." Zoya laughed. "There's nothing to fear here, Al-" She was cut off as a trapdoor opened under her feet. With a surprised shout, Zoya tried to jump to safety, but missed and fell. The pit wasn't very deep, but her balance had been thrown off by her attempt to jump clear, and her head cracked against floor as she landed. For a few seconds, dim lights swam before her eyes, and then all was dark... When Zoya opened her eyes, she was lying in a narrow corridor. The trapdoor over her head, though clearly visible from this side, was closed, and there was no sign of Alranis. She knew from the persistent, throbbing ache in her head that it would be a while before she could attempt to cast any spells. She stacked a few boxes against one wall and climbed up to examine the trapdoor. It appeared to be locked. She tried knocking, and then pounding, but heard not so much as a scratch on the other side. "Oh, well," she sighed. "There's got to be another way out of here." She picked a direction at random, and began walking. She hadn't been walking long when she heard the babble of excited voices in the distance, and she lengthened her stride. It was odd, she thought, that the babble didn't become more intelligible as she approached. Then she rounded a corner, and it became clear: She was facing a gaggle of five tinker gnomes, all talking at once as they constructed some fantastic device. Unlike many humans, Zoya didn't detest tinker gnomes. In fact, their never-ending enthusiasm for research and experimentation gave them a special place in her heart. She only wished they would talk slower. "Hello," she ventured, lingering by the wall and attempting to determine the nature of their device. If they were about to test it, she'd want to duck around the corner again. "A "Wehaven'thadavisitorinalongtimehowlonghasitbeen?" babbled another, weilding a hammer. The remaining three jumped in all at once.
"We Zoya tuned out the babble and concentrated on the bespectacled female. "How did you get in here?" "We It took Zoya a few seconds to process this. "God? What god? I didn't think tinker gnomes had a god." One of them sighted down an astrolabe at her, and as she wondered
what use an astrolabe could have in an underground corridor with no
windows, he responded,
"We "Erdian?" Zoya interrupted sharply. "Erdian's your god?" The woman looked somewhat abashed.
"Not "Erdian isn't a god," Zoya protested. "He was a man, a mage like me, and he died." The woman grinned at her.
"That's Another half hour of conversation revealed that something unusual
about the circumstances of Erdian's death had granted him a spiritual
status somewhere between a saint and a demigod, and the emergence of a
small cult of tinker gnome followers had lent validity to his claim of
godhood. This band had arrived in Marsember only a few months after
Erdian's death, and they had set up house here in Erdian's basement,
"to "Really? Bring him out, then!" Zoya exclaimed. "Not "He Zoya listened to the babble of explanation for a few minutes before it became clear that their list of conditions was nothing more than the observations of several years of Erdian's random visits. With no magic, the gnomes couldn't influence their deity to visit sooner. "Enough!" she barked, and miraculously, they all fell silent. "Erdian and I are going to have a little chat," and she started casting, drawing in all the magic that she could hold... ****************************
Zoya stared, bemused, at her reflection in the mirror. Her purple hair – first an embarrassing symbol of her inability to control magic, then a nuisance that prevented others from taking her on face value, and finally a source of pride – was gone. For the last several weeks, strands of her hair had been turning white. First just a few, barely enough to notice. Then a streak. When Zoya had met Alranis for this mission, the white hair was in a stripe two fingers wide. Now, the white had taken over entirely, leaving only a few strands of purple at the nape of her neck. She gathered these strands together and braided them tightly, tying off the braid with a loose thread from her robe. These, she thought, are the consequences of dealing with gods. She wasn't entirely certain how this state of affairs had come about. Erdian had been both fascinating and confusing, and yet Zoya distinctly recalled that an undeniable train of logic had led to this. She simply could not recall all of the steps. That Erdian was now a god, albeit a minor one, that was fact. That he had been a wild mage during his life – that, too was a matter of public record, and Zoya had no reason to doubt it. That Zoya herself was a wild mage was also fact, though Zoya took exception to the specific term, preferring to style herself a "mage of chaos." That the tinker gnomes, Erdian's somewhat dubious followers, had no priest to lead them in their worship, was fact. Zoya was willing to take Erdian's word for it that he preferred a priesthood at least marginally talented in the art. How he had so elegantly and simply tied all this together into the conclusion that she herself must be his first – only – high priestess, she just could not remember. It had seemed perfectly reasonable to her at the time, though, and so he had laid his hand on her head, and... She remembered only opening her eyes on the Tower's main hall, near the front entrance. Her equipment was in a pile in front of her, but included a few items that had not been hers when she had packed that morning, and she was wearing robes that had seemed white at first glance but which shifted colors if she looked at them too long. She had looked around and espied a mirror a few steps down the hall, and now she stood, staring into the mirror, wondering how long it would take her to get used to this white hair. She was still standing there when she caught Alranis' reflection behind her. "That bad?" he asked, eyeing the changes. "Wasn't sure it was you at all from down the hall a bit." She turned to face him. "Where have you been?" she asked. He looked a bit surprised. "Looking for you, obviously. What happened?" Zoya opened her mouth to explain, then looked down at her crazily shifting robe. "It would take too long to explain. Let's just say that the Tower knows who I am, now." Alranis eyed her doubtfully. "Really." She pointed toward the nearest door. "That's a kitchen, and there's a door in the back that leads down to the wine cellar." "I suppose the Tower gave you a magical map?" he responded, somewhat sarcastically. "Don't be ridiculous. I remember it from when we came through here the first time. There are places here I haven't been, yet. But I've been... I suppose you could say I've been granted the ability to see through the illusions." "If you say so." "There is work for me to do, here, Alranis. I thank you for your assistance, but I've been standing here too long as it is." She stepped over to her pile of equipment and rifled through it until she found a moderately-sized pouch. "Here's the remainder of your fee," she said, offering him the pouch. He took it and checked the contents, then tucked the pouch into his clothes. "It's not going to turn into lead, or smoke, or something, is it?" "It's perfectly honest gold. I suppose if you wandered into the middle of a wizard's duel on your way home, it could turn into smoke – but then again, so might you." Alranis nodded. "You're sure you're safe here-?" Zoya nodded impatiently. "Yes, perfectly safe." "All right, then. What should I tell your friends at that bar?" Zoya frowned. She'd nearly forgotten the Meade Hall, and she really mustn't do that, not with its significance. "Tell them I'll be back soon. My work here shouldn't keep my more than a day or so." |
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