Mira awoke on Sevenday at about the same time as always, which was when she heard noise from her father and brothers getting up. Because it was Sevenday, the city was mostly at rest. The men of the house were probably going to do a lot of nothing today, but she had plans. Mira helped with the food and dishes as usual, and as usual, her father didn’t even acknowledge her presence. She was soon out the door after her mother’s usual admonishment to stay out of trouble and on her way to the market. She had her mirror in her pocket and she was ready to do some real spying.
Mira got to the market and had plenty of time to find a good vantage point on the incline to the upper city where she could watch for Whizzbang and his possible pursuers. The market was not nearly as full as it normally was, but people still had to eat, so there were grocers and bakers selling their wares as usual. Mira sat in a shaded doorway on the east side of the street with her knees tucked close to her chin and her arms holding her dress up to her knees. She casually kept a lookout for any of the three scumbags she knew to look for.
Pretty soon her patience was rewarded. She saw the man she thought was the leader, and he had four guys with him this time. Mira hoped that Whizzbang knew what he was doing. For that matter, she hoped she knew what she was doing! One slip-up and she could end up on the pointy end of a dagger. The leader was distinguishable from the others because he had a short beard, so that’s what she decided to call him in her mind. The guy next to him had a long beard, so that was now his name. Then there was the cap guy, a broken nose guy and a scar guy. They casually spread out to the four corners of the marketplace where they could see Short Beard where he lounged by the well in the center of the market.
Around fifteen minutes later, Whizzbang walked past Mira down the street from the upper city gate to do his shopping as he always did. He used a backpack to carry his groceries, and he wore the same leather vest with all the pockets in it. The ruffians unobtrusively kept their distance while Whizzbang bought the food he needed. When Whizzbang began walking back up the hill to the gate, Mira could see three of the ruffians moving closer, and Short Beard brought up the rear, his eyes never leaving his quarry. Broken Nose and Scar went ahead through the gate and past the bored guards before Whizzbang did, and they went in separate directions once through. They must be planning to set a trap somewhere. Whizzbang was on the move and walking back up the road to the upper city, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Mira stayed hidden in the doorway inspecting her nails, but she got up and followed the thieves around a half a city block behind them. She could see Short Beard, who thought he was running the show, and she paced him while keeping people between the two of them in case he looked back.
Whizzbang followed the same route as before, and though all the ruffians were closing in on him in that same alley, he still managed to evade them, even with the extra help. Mira watched the ruffians from around the corner with the help of her mirror on a stick. Short Beard had some choice words for his four compatriots, and Mira learned some new words. She would have to try them out on her brothers. She grinned. Scar Guy must not have liked what he heard, so he punched Short Beard in the face. That prompted Short Beard to punch him back, then Broken Nose jumped into the fray and punched Short Beard. Long Beard and Cap Guy both broke Broken Nose’s nose again, and it was suddenly a very entertaining morning. Mira almost giggled but caught herself. Once both Long Beard and Cap Guy joined the fight, the three of them beat up Broken Nose and Scar, who both ran away together to the north through an alley. Short Beard said a few things in a low voice that Mira couldn’t hear, and those three thugs exited the courtyard via an alley to the west.
Mira walked around the block to the west and picked up their trail again. She again kept other pedestrians between her and her targets when she could and stayed a short distance behind them. They went through a gate in the wall to get to the lower city on the west side of town. When they took either a right or left turn, she always used the little mirror to check the way first. It was a good thing she did, too, because after one turn the three thugs loitered at the entrance to a pawn shop in the lower city. Maybe they were checking to see if they were followed, so she stayed hidden around a corner and only took sneaking glances now and then using the mirror. After a few minutes, they slipped inside the pawn shop.
Mira casually walked around the back, her little bare feet making almost no noise. Around the back of the place was a door made of heavy wood. There was an open window on the second story, and she could hear low voices coming through it, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying. Seeing no one else in the courtyard behind the houses, Mira took a chance and climbed up the stone wall of the shop to the second floor, then hung by a crossbeam a foot below the open window. She knew Short Beard’s voice, and she heard him talking with another man.
“I don’t know where the little vermin went,” Short Beard said. “Where does he live, anyway?”
“In a place that is almost certainly protected by magical wards,” a man said in a slithery, slimy sounding voice. “Did he see you?”
“No. No way. We were careful,” Short Beard said.
“Well, at least there is that. Still, your incompetence is simply astounding,” Slimy Voice said. “The only way to get what I want is to waylay him outside of his home. You will simply have to try again tomorrow. I don’t suppose you could simply shoot him with a crossbow or something, could you?”
“The constables would surely hear him squeal. We’ll get him next time, Boss.”
“Take twice the men with you, then. And post some in that courtyard ahead of time. Get me that wand!” Slimy Voice exclaimed. Mira was using all her hands and feet to hold on, but she risked using the mirror to get a peek through the window and got a glimpse of Slimy Voice. He was a middle aged, very thin, balding man with a hooked nose. He was wearing dark robes and holding a book that had a cover that was made out of blackened leather with tiny little bird bones stitched to it in intricate patterns and glyphs. There was something about that book that Mira instinctively didn’t like. She quickly put her mirror back in her pocket and shivered.
“Twice as many men will earn me half the pay,” Short Beard protested.
“Then you have a choice before you, snake. Half the pay now, or you can serve me eternally for free. If you fail me again, there is nowhere on this world you can hide that I will not find you. I will have my prize tomorrow morning, or I will have your lives. Is that clear?”
Slimy Voice sounded like someone to avoid at all cost. Apparently the three thugs thought so, too, because Mira heard them exit the room in a hurry. Before she could jump down and get away, the three rogues veritably flew out through the back door of the pawn shop almost directly under the place where Mira was hanging. She didn’t move a muscle until she was sure they were at the edge of the block, and at about that time, the sound of a book hitting a table emanated from the room above.
Thinking she was safe, Mira quickly but quietly climbed down the wall and gave chase to the three thugs. She followed as carefully as before, and they eventually led her to a stairway going up to a third-floor apartment above a humble herbalist’s shop in the lower city. She memorized the location and surrounding buildings, then headed back to the upper city to report what she learned to Whizzbang.
When Mira got to Whizzbang’s home, instead of climbing up to the window, she went around to the front of the establishment. It looked to be as Whizzbang said, an artificer’s shop, and it had a picture of a gear on the sign above the door. She opened the door and walked into the shop. There were glass cases arranged around the periphery of the room with some really nice things in them. There were even some mechanical toy soldiers and horses and things kids would like. She gave a short whistle as she contemplated the skill it must have taken to make these items. She walked up to the desk at the end of the room next to the door that must have had stairs going up and rang a little bell that was sitting on the desk. A few moments later Whizzbang appeared at that door. Sure enough, there were stairs behind it leading up. Seeing Mira, Whizzbang made a beckoning motion with his hand, and led her up the stairs to his living room.
“Well met, my young accomplice.” Whizzbang said. Mira noticed that he did not say “apprentice.” She still had hope, though.
“Well met, Whizzbang,” Mira replied politely. “I did as you asked.”
Whizzbang rubbed his little hands together with a wily grin on his face. “Do tell.”
Mira told him about the fight the thugs had, then about the pawn shop she followed the thugs to after they beat each other up. She described the name of the pawn shop and the streets and buildings around it. Then she told him about the conversation the thugs had with Slimy Voice. She tried to remember all the words, and she thought she got them all. Mira was also sure to mention the book he had and how creepy she thought it was.
“So, they are after my wand, they intend to try again tomorrow, the man in dark robes is probably a wizard, and knows a good bit about me. Are you sure he said, “serve me eternally?” Whizzbang asked.
Mira nodded. “Yep. That’s what he said. Those thugs sure were scared when he told them that.”
“I imagine so. It appears that I’m in a covert war with a necromancer,” Whizzbang said with a thoughtful expression. “Did you find out where the thugs are holed up?”
“Yes, sir.” She described the location of the third-floor apartment above the herbalist’s shop.
“Sounds very flammable,” Whizzbang said. “And probably a front for selling illegal substances, but I’ll find out for sure. There are a lot of places like that in Stonekeep. Good work, Mira. I’ll keep my word to you about teaching you, assuming I live through the coming conflict, but not today. I have preparations to make and not a lot of time to make them.” He had a very devilish expression on his face.
“So, when’s my first lesson?”
“You should stay away from this place for at least a full week, Mira. It won’t be safe. Oh. I need to ask. You do know how to read, don’t you?” Whizzbang asked.
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Mira’s head sank. “Not really, no.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn, and I don’t have the time to teach you. I can show you some minor enchantments, and if you have the ability to master them, you may have a future in this, but learning more will require extensive reading,” Whizzbang stated.
“I know just the person who can help me,” Mira said. She was already heading out the door.
-----
Whizzbang knew that his life was in danger. Real danger. Anyone who had the nerve to break social taboos and practice a type of magic that centered on death was someone who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. He reviewed in his mind the spells he knew and the resources at his disposal. He put away all the tools he had in his vest and replaced them with spell components. He then retrieved his wand, which by itself was a nasty piece of work. He named it Erranil after a neighbor he had in Goldsprocket who blew herself up in a tragic popcorn popping accident. He removed a necklace from a jewelry box as well. It was one of his favorite things. He called it the Gravity Adjusting Survival Pendant, or G.A.S.P. for short, because of the number of times he was able to escape danger while wearing it. Out of the same jewelry box he picked out a set of two interlinked bracelets and put one set on each wrist. When he activated them with a magic word, the bracelets seemed to spread out along his forearms inside the sleeves of his shirt in a latticework pattern, and it gave him the protective equivalent of a full set of chainmail armor.
He thought for a few moments, planning. He knew the necromancer had underestimated him badly, and he didn’t want to do the same. He needed to know his opponent’s defenses and current location. It was about noon, so he had around twenty hours to formulate and execute a plan before the thugs tried whatever plan they came up with to get him tomorrow. He knew he had to act first if he wanted to live. After all, he was only middle aged now. He had a lot of things that he wanted to do before his time in this world was up. Yep. The best defense is a good offense. He went down to his shop, locked the door, and put up a sign in the window that said, “Closed.”
Whizzbang took a large insect’s wing out of a pocket and said some magical words while making arcane gestures to cast a spell of flight on himself. He zipped around the house and made sure all of his protective wards were strongly in effect. Then he took a clear crystal out of his pocket and cast a spell of invisibility on himself. After checking in the mirror to be absolutely certain it was in full effect, he flew upstairs to his bedroom and zipped up and out through the chimney in case someone was watching his house. Invisible and nimble as a hummingbird, he flew straight to where his enemy laired. When he got close, but was still out of earshot, he held a little lens up to his eye and cast a spell that would allow him to detect enchantments. Safe from observation, he took a closer look at the pawn shop and home above it. He saw the window that Mira must have been hiding outside. Thank all that was holy that she didn’t touch it. There was a death curse on that window. He made a mental note of all the windows and doors had wards on them that alerted the wizard of their use. He could see the necromancer sitting at a desk reading from a book that had a black cover and that radiated a strong aura of necromancy. There was some sort of enchantment on some of the books that were on the desk. Probably a preservation spell. There was a fireplace across the room from the desk and directly in front of it. Whizzbang considered a course of action. The desk was heavy, but it may work for what he had in mind. Whizzbang decided to chop the head off of the snake right away since he had the element of surprise.
He flew up to the chimney on the roof and saw that there were no enchantments on it. Whizzbang wasn’t surprised, as this was often overlooked as a point of ingress by human townsfolk. He mentally reviewed his plan one more time, gathered his resolve, and picked some sulfur out of his pocket. Then he cast the most destructive, fiery spell he had at his disposal straight down the chimney. It exploded in the fireplace in the study with a loud BOOM and filled the place with deadly fire. The cursed window blew out with the concussive force of the blast along with a good portion of the exterior wall. He heard the necromancer scream in pain. It was a good start.
Whizzbang flew down to the courtyard, slightly above the height of the second-floor window, and fairly close to the house opposite the necromancer’s lair, where he had a clear line of sight. He heard chanting from inside the study and quickly prepared his own spell. He took a tiny cloth mask out of a pocket and cast an illusion spell on the ground about thirty feet away from him, in full view of the window. The spell he cast looked like the tell-tale shimmering globe of a stationary protective spell that many wizards knew would defend them from the weaker spells thrown at them, with no illusory person inside it. Immediately, there was chanting from inside the study, and the wizard fired a spell of concussive force into the courtyard that exploded near the illusion. The blast made a crater in the cobblestone courtyard and sent shards of stones streaking in all directions, including through the illusory globe. The illusion flickered out at once. It would have hurt Whizzbang badly had he been standing there in a real protective spell like the one he had pretended to cast. As Whizzbang hoped, the necromancer had stepped closer to the window too see the damage he’d wrought, and thus had given away his position. He was badly burned, standing in the center of his own protective spell with his remains of his robes still smoking from Whizzbang’s opening attack.
Whizzbang saw the opportunity he was looking for. With another lump of sulfur from his pocket, he cast another fireball into the wizard’s study, this time angled down behind the desk, which was behind the wizard and still mostly intact. The fireball exploded with great force, and though the fiery blast didn’t harm the necromancer, the desk slammed directly into the wizard’s backside and they both fell out of the house and into the street to land in a twisted, smoking heap. Whizzbang smiled with grim satisfaction. The necromancer was now outside of his stationary protective spell, and he was stunned on the ground, completely defenseless. Whizzbang flew closer, pointed Erranil at the necromancer, and said the command word. The tiny, fiery, pea-sized projectile from the wand hit the necromancer directly in the face and exploded. The blast wasn’t as big as the fiery explosions he had evoked before, but it was perfect for the job at hand.
“Chop the head off the snake, indeed.” He paused for a moment to chuckle at his silent joke. Seekers were generally a very bright and good-natured people, after all, and he just couldn’t keep himself from making a quip, no matter the grim circumstances.
Whizzbang was still invisible and flying, so he was safe, but he could hear panicked shouts from the neighboring dwellings about the fire. He took out a small glass cone with a snowflake etched on it and cast a withering blast of cold into the study to put out the fires raging there. Not seeing any more flames, Whizzbang nodded in satisfaction, then flew back to his own dwelling.
He looked around the exterior of his house for any spies but didn’t see any. The ruffians must be amateurs, he thought. He flew back down the chimney anyway, just for the practice. Whizzbang planned to reopen his shop after eating a little lunch, then spend the rest of the day as he always did.
He was already planning how to deal with the ruffians now that the serpent was dead. He would have to kill the Short Beard guy at the very least because he was the leader and knew enough to make his life dangerous. He thought he would kill all but one or two by the night’s end so he could follow the survivors to their “safe havens” and learn more about their organization, if they had such a thing. All in all, it was a good day’s work, and he was alive to tell of it. He started whistling a merry tune as he prepared his lunch.
Whizzbang thought about the books that the necromancer had accumulated, especially the book with the strong necromantic aura, and he wondered if any of them survived the attack. The necromancer could have accumulated other treasures as well. Whizzbang dismissed those thoughts. It would have taken time to find anything worth having, and time was something Whizzbang didn’t have then with all the townsfolk swarming about. He certainly hoped the authorities had the good sense to burn anything they found in that place.
-----
It was almost dinner time. Whizzbang stood behind his little counter in his shop, boxing up his customer’s purchase.
“My son is going to love this!” the patron said. “He’s always liked to play at being a knight.”
Handing the package to the man, Whizzbang said, “Now he has a knight of his own. Thank you, good sir, for your purchase!”
“Good day, Master Artificer,” the customer said. He left while whistling a merry tune.
Whizzbang put the other items the man was looking at back in their places when he heard his shop door open, then close. By the sound of it, a small man crossed the floor towards the counter Whizzbang was crouched behind.
“I’ll be with you momentarily, good sir!” Whizzbang said cheerily.
“Take your time, Whizzbang,” the man said.
Whizzbang paused, put a hand to a pocket with a crystal spell component, and readied a slaying spell. He knew who that voice, and though he’d met the man before, he wasn’t sure of the man’s intentions. Whizzbang peeked around the edge of the cabinet before exposing himself to the man fully. He didn’t have a drawn weapon, which was a good sign, but he knew he needed to tread carefully here. The man before him had a great deal of power, even if he didn’t show it.
“Ah. Hello, Ykaens,” Whizzbang said with forced pleasantness. “Nice to see you.” Ykaens wasn’t the man’s real name, but an alias that was also a joke. It surprised both of them how many people never worked out the nature of that joke, too.
Ykaens looked to be a very average shopkeeper from Stonekeep, unremarkable in every outward way. His clothing was well made, but plain. His manner was very reserved. He stood casually in the more shaded part of the shop with a slightly downward gaze that caused most people to overlook him immediately. He even spoke quietly.
“I think we both know that’s not the case, but thanks for being polite,” Ykaens said.
“What brings you to my humble shop?”
“We both know why. Please don’t be coy. The prince sent me to find out why a wizard duel almost burned down the city today. Any comments you’d like to make?”
So that’s the way it was, then. Well, the fact that the prince didn’t send a squad of soldiers was a good indication that he was in a reasonable mood. That was very fortunate for everyone. The same way Ykaens knew Whizzbang was a wizard, Whizzbang knew Ykaens was the prince’s spymaster in Stonekeep. Very little happened around here that he didn’t know about. Their relationship was a cordial one, even though Whizzbang had refused an offer of employment from the prince some years ago. He didn’t want to get involved in politics and just wanted to live a simple life, and Whizzbang was very thankful that Prince Kimorel understood. The three of them were all decent men, and as far as the prince was concerned, having a wizard as a potential ally living peacefully in his city was preferable to a wizard with a vendetta causing trouble in secret. Whizzbang decided to be forthcoming with the truth.
“There was a necromancer operating a pawn shop who had secretly hired thugs to waylay and kill me for my wand. They’d tried several times before, so I deemed it wise to kill the bastard,” Whizzbang said. Seekers were very small, unassuming people, and it was surprising to hear such hard words come from their mouths.
Ykaens didn’t betray any emotion. “You’re sure he was a necromancer?” Word of this was as much as he needed. Necromancers would stoop to anything to get what they wanted, and they almost always wanted something that would be the opposite of what a good ruler wanted. Ykaens had dealt with one of their kind before.
“I’m sure,” Whizzbang said. “He was reading from a book that exuded a strong necromantic aura, and he had trapped his windows and doors with death curses. By the way, you didn’t let anyone freely wander around in there, did you?”
“When a fire consumes a house, then is put out by a freezing spell? Of course not. Anyone with any sense knows it had to be wizardry at work and the prince would deal with it. I’m just relieved that it was you and that you didn’t let the city burn. I’m sure His Highness feels the same way.” Ykaens paused, considering. He was a very intelligent man, and he could sniff out a lie almost as well as Whizzbang could. He nodded to himself, then turned to go. “Have a good night, Whizzbang. Please try to stay out of trouble.”
“Just a couple of loose ends to tidy up, I’m afraid.” A preemptive warning to test the waters.
“The thugs.” Ykaens nodded. “Good hunting.” With a negligent wave, Ykaens left.
“They should be giving me a medal for this,” Whizzbang said when he was sure the man was out of earshot. “Well, at least I’m not in irons.”
