Chapter Eight
Rantle cursed. He looked to Diogenes, expecting some sort of snide comment, but the wizard was just looking at him expectantly.
“What?” Rantle said. “We’re ruined. Sorry for putting you through the trouble.”
Diogenes just frowned dubiously, then raised his right hand, in a fist.
“Torrent,” he said.
He extended his thumb, and in the mirror, Torrent looked up in confusion, revealing bruises on her face. Her eyes cast about like she was trying to see who was talking to her.
“Rantle sends a message,” Diogenes continued, extending the remaining fingers of his hand, one by one.
“Oh,” Rantle said. “Alright, um, ask her to let us know where she is. Wait, how many words have I said? Hell. Did I-?”
Diogenes shook his head mutely, gesturing that everything was alright. Then he said, “Briefly detail your location, status.”
Rantle said, “Tell her we’ll rescue her.”
Diogenes gave him a look like he was crazy, but shrugged.
“Rantle will rescue you.”
They were up to fourteen words now, and Rantle thought for a moment, then said, “Tell her, ‘We’re headed to Seaquen on behalf of Gate Pass.’”
“We’re headed to Seaquen on behalf of Gate Pass.”
Diogenes waggled two fingers to prompt him. Rantle shrugged.
“Is good-bye one word or two? Nevermind, tell her ‘Lay easy.’”
“Good luck,” Diogenes said. Then he relaxed his posture and glared at Rantle. “‘Lay easy’? You are such a dirty thug. Learn to speak properly.”
Rantle shrugged, then pointed at the mirror, where Torrent looked like she was concentrating intently. Finally she began to whisper, counting out her words on her fingers as Diogenes had, as if she was familiar with such magic.
“Head south from eleventh district, to Innenotdar. Twelve ‘Black Horse’ bounty hunters. Camp’s half mile off road. Inquisitor arriving tonight. Seaquen will help Gate Pass.”
The image dimmed, Torrent and her fellow prisoners dissolving to reveal the reflection of Rantle and Diogenes looking into the mirror. They looked at each other and were quiet for a moment.
“So you’re going to ‘rescue her,’” Diogenes said. “At least she’ll be hopeful for her last few hours before the Ragesians take her.”
“I was serious,” Rantle said. “We know where they are, vaguely. I’m sure we can come up with a way to get them away from these bounty hunters.”
Diogenes laughed.
“Fine,” Rantle said. “Do you want to stay here now? All we need is to come up with a good trick to make them hand the prisoners over to us. We could pretend to be Ragesians.”
The wizard’s laughter spiked for a moment, but he brought himself under control.
“I know it’s difficult,” Diogenes said, “but try thinking here. They were headed to Innenotdar, which aside from being
on fire is thirty miles away. We don’t know where in those thirty miles they were attacked. They could have had horses and been riding, and thus be nearly all the way to the fire forest, or they could have been on foot and just be a half mile south of the city walls. So we have to scour thirty miles, looking for a camp half a mile off the road – and our brilliant ally didn’t mention west or east – and do this all before nightfall.”
“Alright,” Rantle said. “She was headed to the fire forest, she said? I don’t want to leave them, but we could just go the same way ourselves, couldn’t we? And we would know to look out for an ambush.”
Diogenes leaned back and shrugged. “This woman, Torrent, apparently had some sort of way to protect herself and the others from the fire. Honestly, that much is a good plan. If we could get to the fire forest, I don’t think anyone would follow us in there. But I can’t protect myself from fire, not for that long, at least.”
“My sister could,” Rantle said. “She said she was going ahead to Seaquen, and that she had arranged for Torrent to be at a place she knew I would be. Why didn’t she just wait for me, though? We could have met up with this Torrent and her group, and all gone together.”
Diogenes chuckled. “If she had, you’d all be captured now. For all you know, your sister was captured by these same bounty hunters. How long ago did she leave?”
Rantle shook his head. “No idea. The way she wrote her letter, it was like she wanted to keep this secret, and was worried the message would be found by someone else. I don’t think she was even in the city, or she would have found me, instead of having someone leave me a letter.”
“Excellent,” Diogenes said. “Your sister is safe, and we’re still stuck without a plan. Nevertheless, and I hate to come to this realization but, even with this setback I still want to get out of this city. So let us not declare defeat. Think of something useful. First, what are the problems we have to deal with?”
“Um, we have to deal with a dozen bounty hunters?” Rantle said.
“Hm. Can you get your dear lover to loan you her guards?”
Rantle shrugged. “Maybe, but that raises a lot of questions. As is, she can’t even get us permission to leave the city when the gates are locked. We’re going to have to sneak out over the walls. That’s hard enough with two people.”
Neither of them spoke for a while, both thinking. Finally Diogenes sighed and rubbed his right temple.
“This is pointless,” he said. “Even if we had Gabal himself coming along to kill the bounty hunters, we still don’t know where they are.”
“Can’t you use the same spell again to ask her to be more specific?”
Diogenes shrugged. “I know you’re not interested in the laws of magic, but bear in mind it is slightly difficult to warp the aether to see dozens of miles away. One should never just idly use magic, especially since, what, she’s going to say, ‘When you come to the big rock covered in snow, turn left?’ The more I do now, the less useful I’ll be when there are people with swords around.”
“God,” Rantle said, “magic is so useless. Alright, can you just find one of the bounty hunters directly?”
“For one, no,” Diogenes said, “because I would just see him, not know where he is relative to us, unless he was very close. For two, he would just resist the spell because I have no connection to him.”
“Wait, connection?” Rantle asked. He smiled. “You said you could use an item that belonged to a person to make a spell affect them?”
Diogenes nodded slowly. Rantle’s smile widened as he realized he had a solution.
* * *
A handful of silver bridges dropped in the young ferrier’s hand set the plan in motion, and Rantle quietly glided to the back of the crowded inn common room. He took a seat next to Diogenes and listened to the rumors.
No one really knew what was going on. The assault had ended some time in the middle of the night, with the first wall’s defenses cracked but not breached. Word from soldiers taken away to healing houses was that the Ragesians had only used a pittance from their huge army, as if they had not really wanted to take the wall. Everyone believed that they could have if they had tried, and whispers hinted that the city council, in an early morning meeting, had decided to surrender to the Ragesians.
Rantle knew it wasn’t that simple. Gate Pass’s leaders did not think Ragesia’s new empress, Leska, would be as merciful and calm as Coaltongue had been decades earlier. Coaltongue had wanted wealth and security, but Leska it seemed was leading her people for revenge, scouring the lands of those who might have killed the late emperor. The city would not surrender, but they were willing to try to appease Ragesia.
According to the official Ragesian claims, Coaltongue’s assassins had been mages, so, as Pravati told it, the city intended to open its gates to the inquisitors. They would come in, take away any mages they desired, and leave Gate Pass its independence.
Rantle had just finished deciding on his wish and placing strip of paper with it written down into his urn, when he spotted the ferrier coming down the stairs. He tapped Diogenes to get his attention, but the wizard didn’t move.
“He’s coming,” Rantle said.
“I know,” Diogenes said. “I thought staring at him might be just a little suspicious, no?”
The ferrier was hunched nervously, followed closely behind by the horseman from the night before, Kathor, who managed to still look fairly daunting in everyday clothes. The knight had a tight expression of impatient displeasure, and he followed the ferrier out the front door and to the stables, where supposedly Kathor’s horse was starting to look sick. Like any good cavalryman, Kathor would want to make sure his horse was alright, which gave Rantle and Diogenes the opening they needed.
“Let’s go.”
Together they hurried upstairs, and a few moments work with lockpicks got them into Kathor’s room. A pair of windows looked out on the street, their curtains open, and a single bed sat flush with the same wall. A small table stood in the near right corner, a chair beside it. Kathor had brought his horse’s saddle into the room, along with all the weapons that had adorned it, and they lay on the floor next to the bed. A small pack lay beside them, and when Rantle tapped it with his foot, it clinked like coins.
Diogenes sifted through the saddlebag and quickly pulled out a handkerchief, which he tucked into one of his coat’s pockets with an innocent whistle. Meanwhile, Rantle set down his own weapons and gear in the far left corner of the room, leaning Kathor’s sword against the wall but keeping a crossbow he had acquired at Pravati’s. Then both he and Diogenes moved to the closed door. The wizard set to work scraping runes into the frame of the door with a small knife – held in his right hand, even while his fake right arm still had its hand tucked into a pocket. Rantle listened at the door itself in case Kathor was coming back too quickly. He had told the ferrier to keep the bounty hunter busy, but the man would be returning soon.
Hearing nothing, he stepped back and loaded the crossbow, checking it to make sure it was in good order. A moment later, Diogenes finished his carving.
“Alright,” Diogenes said, “that’s done. Get close. Where are we standing?”
Rantle waved him over to the far left corner of the room, beside one of the windows. Diogenes squeezed close to him, then tapped the window repeatedly with his fingertips as he chanted a spell. The light from the window grew slowly brighter, and Rantle watched as his and Diogenes’s bodies grew darker, the light fading from them until they were the same color as the room, all but invisible. Diogenes stopped chanting, and the room was suddenly very quiet.
A few minutes passed, Rantle afraid to speak in case it might ruin the spell. Through the window came the sounds of people complaining as they cleared debris out of the streets, and the faint chiming of distant noon bells.
Finally he heard footsteps approaching. He raised the crossbow and took aim.
A key clicked in the door’s lock, and then the door opened. The symbols Diogenes had traced on the door briefly flickered with gold light, and then Kathor stepped into the room, looking irritated. He started to close the door and head to his bed, but stopped and cocked his head slightly, as if he had noticed something amiss. Slowly backing away, he put one hand to the dagger at his hip and drew the small weapon. He took a step back, trying to head out the doorway to the hall, but came up short as if he had hit a solid wall.
Confusion crossed the man’s face, and Rantle cleared his throat.
“I’ve got a crossbow pointed at your chest, Kathor,” he said. “You might remember me from last night, at midnight? You’re stuck in this room until my wizard friend decides to let you out, so you’d better cooperate.”
Kathor squinted into the darkness where Rantle and Diogenes stood, holding the dagger low by his side.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“First,” Rantle said, “we don’t want to kill you, or even get you arrested or punished. So let’s all stay calm and talk.”
Kathor glanced around the room, like he was trying to guess if other invisible people might be about. Finally he looked back in Rantle’s direction and waited. He had an expression as if he were in control of the situation.
“I suppose that’s a yes,” Rantle said. “You weren’t working alone, were you? There were others in your group, waiting outside the city?”
Kathor nodded. He said nothing.
“Who are they?” Rantle asked.
“The Black Horse,” Kathor said. “They’re mercenaries. The leader’s name is Renard.”
“Could you take us to them?”
Kathor squeezed his eyes shut and gave a quick shake of his head, like he didn’t believe what he had just heard. “Why?”
“Well, the mages you were trying to capture last night got away, but they managed to get themselves caught anyway. That doesn’t really give me confidence in them, but my associate and I think they know a way to get out of here without crossing paths with the rags.”
“I could take you to them,” Kathor said. “We were granted permission by the Gate Pass council to take mages from the city, so the guards at the gate won’t stop us. But then what? Where will you go to avoid the Ragesians?”
Rantle said, “Why does that matter?”
“Because if I’m going with you, I want to know what your plan is.”
“Pardon?” Rantle said. “You tried to spit me on your sword last night. Why in hell would we bring you with us?”
Kathor’s expression turned cold, and Rantle actually shifted in discomfort.
“I didn’t try to kill you,” he said. “I told you to move, because I spotted a dractyl circling over our location. If you and I had stayed in the alley, we would have been crushed by burning rocks when it dropped the bomb. If I had wanted to kill you, I could have.”
Diogenes yawned. Both Rantle and Kathor looked at him – Kathor only in his vague direction – and Diogenes shrugged.
“Eventually the machismo becomes boring,” the wizard said. “You, knight. You have the good sense not to try to kill us, but unless you have a reason why you would want to come with a group of,” he chuckled, “somewhat incompetent refugee mages, we’re going to have to assume your motives are suspect.”
Kathor stood still for a moment, looking down quietly. Then he nodded once.
“I was in the army,” he said, “and my parents were opposed to Leska. I was punished for their choice. If the Ragesians find me, they’ll kill me.”
Rantle said, “Last night you’re trying to capture people to sell to the Ragesians, and now you want to go swimming against your fellows. And what precisely changed your mind?”
Kathor sheathed his dagger.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “I listened to you.”
Diogenes laughed. “You listened to
him, and decided to give up your cruel path in life?”
“I’m a soldier,” Kathor said, “not a manhunter. Until now, working with the Black Horse seemed like a good idea. But if you know a way to safety, I prefer distance to hiding under the inquisitors’ noses.”
Rantle said, “You’re not going to turn us over to the rest of the bounty hunters?”
“If you’d rather shoot me,” Kathor said, “fine. But I won’t betray you.”
Rantle lowered the crossbow. “Drop the spell, Diogenes.”
The invisibility faded, and Kathor looked at the two of them calmly. Rantle stepped forward, feigning more confidence than he really had, and slapped one hand on Kathor’s shoulder.
“I’ll trust you for now. Keep up your end of the bargain, and I’ll let you come along. We’ll just keep it a secret that you’re a rag.”
“I’m not going to hide my allegiance,” Kathor said. “Ragesia has abandoned me, but I took an oath to my emperor.”
Diogenes said, “Emperor’s dead. And the new one is a megalomaniacal witch.”
“The Old Dragon is immortal,” Kathor said, “and Leska is not my emperor. How do you intend to get away from here?”
Rantle looked to Diogenes, who shrugged.
“The road they took leads south to the fire forest,” Rantle said. “The wizards will use their magic to protect us, and Diogenes thinks we’ll be through in a day or two.”
Kathor frowned. “I’ve only heard the name before, this fire forest. It’s dangerous?”
Diogenes laughed. “No. I’m sure they just called it the ‘fire forest’ because they liked the name.”
“It used to be the Innenotdar forest,” Rantle offered. “Jen lands. Forty years ago, around the same time Coaltongue captured Gate Pass, the forest caught on fire, and the flames never died. A lot of jen from Innenotdar fled and moved here to Gate Pass. No one know what caused it.”
“And no one can follow us through it,” Diogenes said. “Or at least that’s the risk we’re taking.”
“Would we pass through this fire forest to Dassen?” Kathor said.
“Yeah,” Rantle nodded. “Satisfied? We know the route, but Torrent, one of the prisoners, has the magic to protect us. We need to get to your friends’ camp before sunset. Is that possible?”
Kathor was silent for a moment. “Yes. The men who didn’t come back last night left behind their horses. You have my sword.”
Rantle glanced back at Kathor’s sword, propped up in the corner of the room.
“Of course,” Rantle said. “You can have that one back, but remind me to get one of my own.”
Diogenes groaned. “You’re fond of his sword, are you? Are you going to try to sleep with
everyone we meet?”
“What’s he talking about?” Kathor said. “Is he implying-?”
Rantle shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We need to get moving.”
* * *
The three men rode to the eleventh district, Kathor guiding an extra pair of horses, all of them bearing swords and bows on their saddles. At one point they passed a caravan of Ragesian prisoners, all han or herethim, clad in black scale armor with red fire standards, freckled with blood and bruises, escorted by Gate Pass soldiers who managed to look afraid even though they were the ones holding the chains. One herethim, missing his right eye and bleeding from the base of the large tooth that jutted tusk-like from the right side of lower jaw, watched Rantle tightly as he was marched past.
The city was torn to pieces, burned divots scattered every few hundred feet, the husks of burnt buildings marked by a now iconic scent of scorched Ragesian sorcery. Rantle kept his eyes from straying, not wanting to be reminded of all that he would be leaving behind. He only made it to the south gate by reminding himself regularly of how he had no home here, and that his only family was waiting for him, far away.
At the gate that would lead them south along an old Otdar Mountain road to the fire forest of Innenotdar, Kathor brusquely presented his papers that gave them permission to leave, claiming Rantle as a fellow bounty hunter and Diogenes as a prisoner. The guards at the gate complied mutely, and it was barely an hour after noon when they rode out of Gate Pass and onto the barely-trodden, snow-clogged trail.
A few hundred feet out, Rantle looked back, not really able to see the city beyond its walls, stretching far away along the ridges of the mountains. His horse slowed, and he closed his eyes, straining to hear the chimes of bells, anywhere, even faintly.
Hoofbeats, crunching along the snow, came up and stopped.
“Don’t look back,” Kathor said. “It’s easier.”
Rantle nodded and turned back to the road. He sighed, then straightened up in his saddle and kept his eyes ahead.
