Chereads / spellmonger / Chapter 19 - Chapter Three The Shard Of Irionite -6

Chapter 19 - Chapter Three The Shard Of Irionite -6

From behind the curtain, in the bowels of his shop, I heard his voice,

augmented magically to inspire fear and excitement. It's a cheap gimmick.

"Who hath dared disturb the work of Garkesku the Great, mightiest

wizard of – Oh, Minalan. It's you. Good day, sir."

"And good day to you, too, Mighty Wizard," I said with just a trace of

smirk. He looked down at my road-stained clothes and my well-worn

weapons belt and suddenly became afraid. His hands disappeared in his

robe.

"Uh, what can I do for you today, Master Minalan?" he asked nervously.

"Perhaps some service I can perform for you?"

"No, you can't. And knock off using the Soothing Voice spell. It doesn't

work on me, and you should know better."

"If it's about Vano's bull, let me first tell you that Vano is a well known

liar. I—"

"It's not about Vano's bull, but now you've intrigued me," I said,

crossing my arms in front of me. "Pray tell, what would Goodman Vano be

lying about?" Vano ran a farmstead just outside of Boval Castle, and his

kine were the envy of the Valley. I'd treated his prize bull for lazyfoot, a

common disease of mountain cattle, just a few weeks before, and he had

seemed quite satisfied at the time. Obviously, Garkesku was telling tales

behind my back. Not that I was worried – I do good work, and the farmers

knew that.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he assured me. "Merely a misunderstanding.

Now, I'm sure you didn't come all this way to discuss cattle, Master

Minalan. What may I do for you today?"

I ignored the jibe and delivered my news. "You may not have heard, yet,

but the night before last Minden Hall was attacked by goblins. And killed

almost forty people." That got his attention.

"Forty? Slain by goblins? That's horrible!" he said, and honestly looked

horrified. I could almost hear what he was thinking, too: Forty clients

killed! That's horrible! He caught himself, as something occurred to him.

"Wait. Wasn't the village warded?"

"Of course," I answered, evenly.

"Ah," he said, condescendingly, "the farmers up there are a sturdy but

stubborn folk. No doubt they will reconsider their wards when they are

done burying their dead." He tried to suppress a small smile, and almost

succeeded. "Well, that is unfortunate. I've always been rather adept at

wards, myself. Years of practice, you know. Experience you don't get in the

Academies. Perhaps I can spare some time if you'd like to study with me

about some of the more advanced functions . . ."

"Damn it, Garky, those wards were perfectly sound, and would have

stood up to even the likes of you," I said forcefully. It had become a sore

point in our strained relationship when the village elders voted to let me

provide the wards on the village for free, when winter broke, instead of

paying Garkesku to do his usual half-hearted job. "My wards are twice what

yours are, and you know it. They were military grade. And they were sliced

through by the gurvani shaman."

"My wards would have stood up to the attacks of such a primitive," he

sneered, openly this time.

"Not a primitive armed with a witchstone," I pointed out, bitterly. "The

shaman had help. Irionite."

I almost enjoyed watching the blood drain from his face. "Witchstones?

He had irionite? A goblin witchdoctor? How do you know?" He was scared,

but his first impulse was to challenge my veracity. Idiot.

"Because I took it off of his body after I slew him," I said, trying to

sound casually dangerous. I suppose I succeeded, because he turned even

paler at that. If there was any doubt before about who was the superior

mage, it was gone now. Still, he tried to turn this to his advantage.

"So you have this . . . witchstone. Well, such things are exceedingly

dangerous, as I'm sure you've heard. They shouldn't be tampered with

lightly. Why don't you leave it here with me, where it's safe, and perhaps I

can study it and find a way to neutralize its power--"

"Not in a thousand years," I said amicably. "I have had some

experience with irionite, if you recall. In the hands of the Mad Mage. He

was a Adept-class mage, too, and the power drove him mad. I have no

desire to turn it over to you and risk the safety of everyone in the Vale. I

shall keep it, for the moment. As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to the

north end of the valley to talk to the Tree Folk about it. I'm hoping they can

shed some light on this disturbing attack.

"But the important thing – the only important thing – is to be ready

against another attack. If the gurvani have stumbled across a cache of

irionite, our lives aren't worth a broken wagon wheel. There are dozens of

tribes in the hills to the west and south of us. If they ever got organized,

with irionite behind them they'd be unstoppable.

"So why have you come to me, if not to enlist my aid?" he asked,

sniffing haughtily.

"Because I have a feeling that Sire Koucey will retain you to build up

the defenses of Hymas, so I thought you'd like a little advance warning,

enough time to make some preparations. Professional courtesy, and all."

Garkesku looked like I'd kicked him in the groin, an expression of

anguish and despair that would have been funny under other circumstances.

He could see his shop in flames, his clients dead, and himself a povertystricken refugee in the eastlands, competing against serious magi for the

first time in his life. The thought terrified him.

"I'm sure it was just a simple raid," he tried to dismiss. Even he didn't

believe it.

"It was a large, well-organized group. My professional opinion tells me

it could be a scouting force for a much larger attack. In that case, Sire

Koucey will have to prepare a defense, and will likely be sending for you

soon to assist. I would impress upon you the importance of strong wards in

such a case, Master. Your strongest wards, and no cheese paring." That was

a local expression – when cheese merchants made the rounds of the

creameries in the Vale, it wasn't unheard of a farmer to trim the cheese

lightly after it was weighed and neglect to inform the merchant.

"Wha-? Oh, of course, I--." He looked like he swallowed a spinefish.

"Wait! You said you . . . did recover the piece?" he asked. "Intact? A

witchstone?" He looked around, as if there were Censors hiding behind

every door. "Can I see it?"

I almost said no, but I could understand the irresistible allure. I nodded,

and pulled out the pouch. Never taking my eyes off of him I displayed the

rough chip of green amber, and his eyes nearly blazed at the sight of it. He

swallowed several times before finally pulling his gaze away.

"My goodness, this is an amazing find!" he whispered. "Absolutely

amazing! A thing of such power . . . you know, I think it best if a mage of

more experience than one so young should really be the one to explore the

properties of--"

"Stop it, Garky." He hated it when I called him that. "As far as the

Censorate is concerned, possession of irionite is illegal. Since there isn't a

Censor in five hundred miles, I'm going to overlook that . . . but I'm not

about to give it to you. The stone is mine."