Chapter 11

“Greger was the investigator for these. He has a new mage, Borgny. Don’t know him,” Gruthwin said, waving the paper, “and I don’t know his scrivener at all.” He paced along beside Losian reading more. “It doesn’t look like they’ve got much to go on. We could talk to Greger, but I’d rather not.” Gruthwin muttered.

“Full of wind,” Losian said succinctly.

Gruthwin grinned. “Since all we have here is a list of the shops which have been hit, let’s try this Borgny first. Mages’ House is on our way to the shop district. ”

Losian nodded and turned left at the next corner. It didn’t take them long to get to the Mages’ House. It had once been an imposing residence, but time and chronic under-funding had dimmed it’s dignified presence. Losian and Scrivener trailed after Gruthwin as he ran up the stairs, pressing his hand against the door before opening it. The interior of hard marble was bare of any furnishings, decorations, or people. Losian had always thought that it reflected the nature of many mages, hard, cold, uninterested in anyone who had no magic. Gruthwin led them across the echoing hall to an entryway on the right. Here they found an apprentice mage who was rubbing at a stain on the front of his grey tunic. He looked up, wide eyed at Gruthwin. Losian who had no illusions as to Gruthwin’s capabilities assumed he was new and easily impressed by any mage.

“Sirwan Mage,” he said scrambling to his feet.

“Is Mage Borgny in? We need to speak to him,” Gruthwin said.

The boy pulled a large book towards him, scanning it, his lips moving as he ran through the list of names. “Yes, he is here. Do you want me to find him?”

“I’ll find him. His room is on the top floor?”

The boy nodded and watched with interest as they left. Gruthwin led them further down the hall to a set of stairs and ran up them. “He’s so new that he still is on the journeyman floor. He has to wait for a room to come free,” Gruthwin said.

“How long does that take?” Scrivener asked.

“When a mage dies then he’ll get that room, unless there’s a mage with more seniority. It’s one of the reason’s I have my own place. It’s free to live here but I didn’t want to wait for a room to come free and the journeymen’s floor is not quiet.”

They came out on the third floor and walked down the corridor, peering at the door labels. “Here it is.” Gruthwin knocked.

“Who’s there?” called a quavering voice.

“Gruthwin. We need to talk to you.”

“We?”

“Spregman Losian and our scrivener.”

There was a long pause before they heard the bolt sliding back and the door opened slowly. Scrivener pushed at Gruthwin and grabbed Losian dragging him down with her. The fire ball exploded against the far wall, glowing cinders falling onto the floor.

Gruthwin had stumbled against the door frame, the fire just missing his shoulder. He brought his hands up, pushing hard towards Borgny who flew backwards, disappearing into the room. Gruthwin followed up with a spell, his voice shivering through the hall. Losian pushed Scrivener away from him, crawling over to peak around the corner of the door jamb. The second spell hadn’t been required. Borgny was lying against the far wall, his neck at an odd angle. Losian got up and moved into the room, keeping behind Gruthwin until he was sure they were alone.

“Well, that was an interesting welcome,” Scrivener said. “Are all mages that touchy?”

Gruthwin shook his head staring down at the body. “I don’t know what he was thinking?”

“That you wouldn’t expect an attack,” Losian said.

Gruthwin turned to look at Losian. “But why?”

Losian shrugged and started to look around the room.

“What are you doing?” Gruthwin asked, his dazed expression beginning to fade.

“Looking to see if there’s anything here which can shed light on why he would attack, or on our cases.

Losian turned towards the door as he heard someone coming down the hall. “What’s going on here?” demanded a mage petulantly. The elderly mage, his pale face set in a frown, stood in the door way taking in the dead mage, Losian and Gruthwin. “Why is Mage Borgny dead Mage Gruthwin? It is Gruthwin isn’t it?” He demanded coming in to the room.

“Borgny attacked me, Mage Hlner and yes I’m Gruthwin,” Gruthwin said. “We wanted to talk to him about a case and when he opened the door he threw a fire ball at us. It was a wonder we escaped. I did what my training required.”

The mage glared at Gruthwin as if he was personally responsible for the problem then stomped around the room, picking things up and putting them down, pulling out draws and rifling through them. When he got to the dead mage’s work table he put his hands behind his back and carefully peered at everything on the table. He finally pulled a small piece of metal out of his pocket and very carefully opened up the grimoire on the edge of the desk. It was precariously perched and it fell off, hitting the ground with a solid thump.The mage jumped back and Gruthwin cringed. Losian noticed that the scrivener had moved to stand in the doorway, away from Mage Hlner and his rummaging around. The book lay on the floor, it’s front and back cover supporting it. The mage after a moment bent down and lifted it up by inserting the rod through the centre and placed it back on the table as he did, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. The mage picked it up, looked a it then dropped it. He turned away from the work table and walked back to the door. “Leave, all of you. We must get a mage examiner in. This is most disturbing.”

Losian moved quickly to pick up the paper before following Gruthwin out the door.

“What is the problem?” Gruthwin asked the mage as he trailed him down the corridor.

“This is the second time this has happened. The second that I know of. The first one had also just passed being a journeyman, one of Mage Salner’s students. He lashed out at a journeyman who came to deliver a message from Salner.”

Losian grabbed Gruthwin by the sleeve and pulled him back, letting the duty mage move away muttering  “this is very strange”, to himself.

“What?” Gruthwin asked.

Losian held the drawing out for Gruthwin to look at. Scrivener came to look over Losian’s shoulder.

“If a scrivener did this, it’s a little crude,” Scrivener said disdainfully.

Losian looked at the circle bisected with a lightening bolt and shrugged. “It’s not as good as Notir’s work and he wasn’t the most proficient so perhaps Borgny did it. It fell out of Borgny’s grimoire. I can’t see his scrivener letting him have it,” Losian said.

“I wonder if the other new mage had one of these?” Scrivener asked. “Could you find out Gruthwin?”

“Maybe.” He hurried up to catch up to the duty mage.

Losian and Scrivener couldn’t hear the conversation as they followed the two mages down the stairs to the entrance hall. The duty mage left them there and hurried off to talk to the head mage. Gruthwin waited till he had disappeared down another corridor and then hurried back the way they had come. “His room is along the same hallway as Borgny’s,” he whispered. “The mage examiner will be up any moment to look at Borgny’s room so we have to be quick. Here it is.” He tried the door but it was locked. Losian pushed him out of the way and pulled out a set of lock picks.

“Mage examiner?” Scrivener whispered to Gruthwin as Losian worked on the door. “The mage who investigates untimely deaths of registered mages, accidents, that sort of thing.”

The door clicked and Losian stepped back to let Gruthwin open it. Gruthwin muttered a spell as he eased the door open. When nothing happened, Losian impatiently pushed him farther into the room and entered with Scrivener right on his heels. She pushed the door shut and leaned against it while the other two started to search the room. They froze when they heard the garrulous voice of the duty mage as he passed the door on his way to Borgny’s room.

“Hurry up,” Scrivener whispered.

“Nothing,” Losian said in a low voice to Gruthwin. Gruthwin shook his head and the two looked around the room. Scrivener gave a deep sigh and walked over to mirror on the wall, pulled it off, turned it over and picked at the back. Losian took it away from her and using his knife pried off the back to reveal a piece of paper. He opened it and then passed it to the other two; a circle with a lightening bolt.

“How did you know?” Gruthwin asked suspiciously.

“Borgny had it in his grimoire. I presume he felt that was the safest place. If they had found the drawing before, the old mage would have recognized it. So, if it was here then it must be better hidden. It looks like the room has been pretty thoroughly searched and neither one of you found anything so it was the only other place it could be. Well maybe not the only. I suppose it could have been on the top of the wardrobe or behind a wall, but I thought it unlikely,” she said grinning impishly.

Gruthwin went to the door and peered out. “They haven’t come out of Borgny’s room. Let’s go.”

The three crept quickly down the hall and silently down the stairs. They then strolled nonchalantly out the door.

“Where to now?” asked Scrivener.

“Let’s see if any of the shopkeepers sold this medallion,” Losian suggested.

They spent the rest of the day talking to shopkeepers about the robberies and the medallion. The shopkeepers couldn’t remember anything about the robberies and didn’t know about the medallions, although Losian got the distinct impression that they had not been interviewed before.

Chapter 12

They talked over what they knew during dinner at the Red Bell and decided that Gruthwin needed to find out if more mages had attacked others, not just at the Mages’ House but in other places. Losian decided that he and the scrivener would talk to the remaining shopkeepers in the morning. Losian left the other two as soon as he had finished dinner, wondering sourly if they were going to make dinner together a habit. Night had fallen and he chose to walk along the better lit route, not that it was particularly bright but some light was better than none. It was a wet and blustery night and a good portion of the street lamps had blown out. He couldn’t fault the watchmen for not keeping up with the lighting. It was a cold and thankless job with them apt to be victims as much as the citizens who the light was supposed to keep safe.

Losian was just passing the mouth of an alley near his room when he felt the blow coming. He managed to twist aside, but his assailant was too close. He was crowded against the wall and he couldn’t get at his hip knife. He tried to get at his throwing knife but he was kneed hard in the groin, the pain making him loose focus. Then his head was slammed hard against the wall. “No more questions,” a voice hissed in his ears. “The girl is gone. Leave it alone or you’ll be gone.” His head was once more slammed against the wall and he blacked out.

Losian woke shivering, his back on fire. He groaned softly as he turned over. He was still in the alley. Well, that was exactly where he should be. Yet he was surprised, given the last two times he woke in more agreeable surroundings even if he didn’t know how he got there.  And, as seemed to be the case wherever he woke,  mostly naked; no shoes, no trews, no shirt and no cloak. “Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered. “At least they didn’t stab you while you were out.” He levered himself to his feet and tottered out of the alley. “Almost home,” he whispered encouragingly. “Just a few more steps.”

Losian got to the door between a butcher and a green grocer. He fumbled at the chain around his neck which had his key. It took him two tries before he managed to get it into the key hole, except that the key wouldn’t turn. Losian leaned his head against the door. “No, no. This can’t be happening,” he moaned. He was stiff, sore and his back hurt. He tried again but it just wouldn’t turn. He pounded on the door. Surely his landlady would hear. She was always watching, her door always ajar to hear anything and everything going on. He pounded more on the door but there was no sound, nothing. He sat down, exhausted. The butcher wouldn’t be in for a while and he couldn’t just sit here. He tried to think about where to go but his thoughts were sluggish. Home? No too far, way too far. His brother’s house? He’d die first. Gruthwin’s then.

Losian concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, resting every block or so, if leaning against a wall shivering was resting. He finally managed to reach the building where Gruthwin lived. How to get in? He just swayed there staring stupidly at the door. Try to open it, he finally thought. Miracle of miracles it opened. He dragged himself up the stairs. For a panicked moment he couldn’t remember which door it was. He had only come out of it, and that once. Then he remembered being able to look down the stairs at the ferwardens who had come to get him and Gruthwin. So the door at the top of the stairs. The rest became a foggy dream.

Losian woke suddenly. He was lying on his stomach, his back still hurting. Where was he? Right he had been mugged, no he had been attacked and warned away from the Landgraf’s daughter’s case. He smiled. That was good. Somebody was worried. He frowned. Who?

“You’re awake,” Scrivener said. “Don’t move. I’ll put more salve on your back. You’ve also got one big bump on the back of your head.” Scrivener spread something on his back and the pain started to fade. He grunted in appreciation. “You can sit up now and drink this. It’ll help your headache.”

Losian slowly sat up and realized that she was right, his head did pound and that he was in his smalls. He made sure the blanket was firmly anchored across his hips before he took the mug and drank down the concoction, bitter as it was. He looked slowly around the room searching for Gruthwin.

“Gruthwin went to get us something for breakfast,” Scrivener said, interpreting his movements. “And some clothes for you.”

Losian nodded, disliking the small smile that played about her mouth, and decided he’d lie back down until Gruthwin came back. He must have slept because Gruthwin was talking quietly to Scrivener, the remains of a meal on the table when he sat up again.

“What happened to you?” Gruthwin asked. “I opened the door and you fell into my room, unconscious”

“I was attacked and robbed.”

“That’s not like you to get robbed,” Gruthwin pointed out.

“It is if you’re already out cold,” Losian muttered. Scrivener raised an eyebrow. “I was attacked by someone who didn’t like it that we were still asking questions about the Landgraf’s daughter. He knocked me out and when I woke up I had been robbed.”

“You’re sure it was about the Landgraf’s daughter?” Scrivener asked skeptically. Losian glared at her and she held her hands up with a smile. “Just checking, just checking.”

“Did you find out anything more about mages attacking?” Losian asked.

“Not enough. There are rumours that several of the newly initiated mages have become sick, delirious. But I can’t get anything concrete. I even heard that Borgny contracted a fever and nearly died,” Gruthwin shrugged. “Someone’s hiding something.”

“I think we hit a nerve when we talked to the shopkeepers. I think we should keep the pressure on.”

“Why not talk to some of the silversmiths and traders?” Scrivener asked. “The shopkeepers didn’t seem to know anything concrete.” At Losian’s skeptical look she continued. “They seemed barely aware of the robberies and none of them recognized the medallion. It was either made here or it was brought from someplace else.” She started to play with her bracelets. The jangled softly as she seemed to consider something. “There was no makers mark on the medallions.” Losian looked surprised at her noticing that, he hadn’t. “How likely is it that a reputable silversmith will leave off his mark?”

Gruthwin nodded. “It’s illegal to make silver or gold jewelry without a mark or with a fake mark. But if the medallion’s are in some way illegal there would be a fake mark.”

“So there must be a trader who is bringing them in,” Losian said.

“Or a silversmith making them on the sly?” Gruthwin said.

“So we ask both,” Scrivener said.

Gruthwin frowned. “I don’t think you should be helping. It’s obviously getting more dangerous and the captain said you were an uncertified scrivener so you don’t have any protection at all.”

“Asking questions?”

“What he means is that scriveners are part of a sprigner team and have some protection from irate shopkeepers,” Losian said.

“And you’re not officially part of a team,” Gruthwin pointed out.

“And how would they know I’m not? Not unless you told them.” Scrivener grinned. “I’m having fun.”

Gruthwin goggled at her, causing Losian to laugh. “Being caught in a burning building or having a mage attack is fun?” Gruthwin asked.

Scrivener shrugged. “The wild is a little less tame,” she murmured. She picked up the bag that Gruthwin had left on the floor and threw it at Losian. “We need to get going. If they know you’re looking into things, they may cover their tracks.”

Losian struggled into his clothes. His back did feel better, much better. His head though still throbbed.

“Why did you end up here?” Gruthwin asked.

“The lock was changed.” Losian frowned. “I need to find out what happened.” His plants needed to be watered.