City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy (6 page)

The old man pointed ahead. “At the end of this hall is the back entrance for servants and the like. This is where you would come in every day. It’s locked, but just knock and announce yourself and somebody’ll let you in.”

Vitman led Lucius along another side hall, then down a lengthy flight of stone steps. “I’ll show you the basement next. The most dangerous nuts are down here locked away in solitary. They’re tied up pretty well, but every once in a while one of them chews his way out of his bonds.”

As they reached the bottom of the steps, Lucius noticed a narrow black hallway to their right, but Vitman took a lit hall to their left.

“
What is this place?” Lucius pointed at the dark side passage.

Vitman stopped in his tracks and turned to see what the younger fellow was asking about.

“
That goes to the river shore.” Vitman pointed into the blackness. “Don’t worry, though. It’s locked up pretty tight. We use it to dispose of bodies from time to time. Most of these nutters don’t have family that wants anything to do with them, so when they pass on we dump them in the North River.”

Vitman turned away. “All right, this way to the worst of the nutters.”

Lucius walked behind the old man, his thoughts lingering on the tunnel to the river.

Chapter Seven

Randall felt at peace as he crossed the University of West Ursia’s verdant campus. He meandered along the main brick path, between rows of young trees and students bustling between one class to another.

He had spent six of the most fulfilling months of his life on the campus. It had been a time to learn and grow, and not only concerning his education. He had been a stranger to West Ursia when he had arrived and had been fortunate to be singled out by the head of the College of Magic. Maslin Markwood’s discovery of Randall had been no accident, though it had appeared so to the young healer at the time. Markwood had sensed a new magical entity within the city, and upon investigation had discovered Randall sleeping in an alley along Beggars Row. After an examination and interview period, Randall had been offered a student position within the college.

Tendbones smiled as he passed the brown stone building of the College of Military Science and spotted ahead the white columns that bordered the entrance to the College of Magic.

The healer had known his own power when he had first entered his studies, but Markwood had shown him his true potential during those six months. Normally a student would have had to attend the school at least two years before gaining a basic degree in magic, and an additional four years before becoming an adept within one of the multiple majors. For a while Randall had considered earning a degree in ensorclements, but he had known in his heart what he truly wanted. As the healing arts were already natural to him, he had felt his six months of study more than enough to prepare him for the outside world. Unfortunately he had not completed his degree in medicinal magics, but that was because several of the professors felt he had not had enough time to learn his studies proper, and the young healer was anxious to begin using his skills. Markwood had stood by Randall, and had found the young man employment at the healing tower in the Swamps. Since then, the healer had been indebted to the old wizard, and Markwood had proven to be more than a teacher. He had become a trusted friend, the only person who knew why Randall now called Bond home.

The smile on the young man's face did not lessen as he trotted up the marble steps to the college’s entrance. Once inside he twisted to his right in the main hall and proceeded up a staircase to the second floor.

Randall turned right along a narrower hall and proceeded until he came to a wide door on his left with the words “Markwood” engraved in its center. There was no doorknob, but that didn’t stop the healer.

With rolling eyes, Randall spoke the secret words taught to him by his former teacher. “All hail the mighty Markwood.”

The door swung inward on invisible hinges.

“
Old man!” Randall called out as he stepped into the outer chamber. Paintings of famous wizards hung everywhere, covering the walls. A desk to the right of the entrance sat empty, as it always did when Randall visited. Markwood didn’t believe in having a secretary, especially when there were so many students willing to do chores for a stipend to help with their tuition.

“
In here, Randall.” The voice came from behind the room’s other door. “Come in, as long as you are not carrying an open flame.”

This door did have a knob, and Randall used it before pushing through to the next room. Revealed was Markwood’s inner office, a small chamber of brick with three windows on the far wall. A large, dark desk was shoved into the back of the room beneath the windows while rows of shelves covered the other walls. Upon the shelves were thousands of books, manuscripts and scrolls stuffed together.

Markwood appeared the typical wizard, his gray hair lengthy and running into the beard flowing from his chin. His light purple robes were gathered around him as he sat with legs crossed in the center of the room. A floppy hat that came to a point rested on the ground next to one of the wizard’s knees.

On the floor in front of him had been inscribed in yellow chalk a circle with a five-pointed star drawn within. From the center of the star floated upward a tawny fog in the shape of a human head.

Markwood looked up at his visitor. “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the floor on the other side of the chalk circle.

Randall squatted and stared at the fog. For a moment he thought he could see a pair of dull eyes staring out at him.

Markwood waved a hand at the vapor. “I’ll talk to you another time, father. I’ve company.”

The fog shook, appearing to nod, then sank into the center of the star. After a second it dissipated, breaking apart into mist.

The old wizard looked to his guest. “
What can I do for you?”

“
It concerns Belgad.”

Markwood’s eyes narrowed beneath bushy brows. “What of the man?”

“
One of his people was burnt badly in a fire several nights ago.”

“
Trelvigor.” Markwood spoke the name with distaste.

“
I’m not sure how much I can help him, but he’ll likely live.”

“
I wish no harm on any living man,” Markwood said with bitterness in his voice, “but believe me, that one was deserving. He is the worst breed of mage there is, feeding the fuel of the Eastern church’s hate.”

Randall frowned. “As a healer, I’m bound to help him.”

“
I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”

“
Besides, Trelvigor is in no state to cause me harm The man can barely breath.” Randall eased back so he was sitting on the floor. “And Belgad does not view me in a negative light. I have done a good bit of doctoring for him of late.”

“
As long as that is all the use Belgad has for you, you should be safe.”

“
My safety is the reason I am here.” The healer leaned back, his arms at an angle behind him, to rest on his hands. “Last night there was an attack upon Belgad’s men. Two were killed, one crippled and another suffered a wound. The injured one, Stilp, said the man who attacked them was dressed all in black and went by the name Kron Darkbow.”

Randall watched Markwood's eyes widen.
“
Does the name mean anything to you?”

“
Not specifically, but ... you said this Darkbow was in black, and attacked Belgad’s men?”

“
And he told Stilp he was declaring war against Belgad. It sounds like a personal vendetta.”

Markwood nodded agreement. “
Belgad would have many enemies over the years. I take it it has crossed your mind this Darkbow character could be Kobalan.”

“
It has,” Randall said with an anxious sigh, “which is why I am here. I don’t know what Kobalos would have against Belgad, unless it were something he did long ago. But even then, an agent of Verkain would likely choose a more direct approach.”

“
You haven’t used the ring?” The wizard's look was one of concern.

“
No.”

“
Wise decision. Do you have it upon you?”

“
Locked within my desk.”

“
Good.”

“
Do you think you can help?”

Markwood rested his chin in a hand. “I can make inquiries that should not draw too much attention, but this Darkbow is no wizard or magical creature. If he were, I would have been aware of his presence within the city.”

Randall shrugged. “
I can’t imagine why Verkain would send anyone against Belgad. It would make no sense. Belgad is no threat to Kobalos.”

Markwood’s gaze grew stern. “
Belgad can be a threat to anyone under the right circumstances. Remember that.”

“
I will, professor,” Randall said mockingly.

“
I mean it, Randall.” The wizard was in no mood to joke about the Dartague. “If Belgad finds a way to profit from you, he will use you. The man has little regard for others. He might not be an out-and-out murderer, but the mentality is similar. Do not allow yourself to be used by this man.”

Randall did not know what to say. He did not trust Belgad, but had not considered the man an overt threat. He would take the wizard’s advice, however, and be on his guard.

Upon seeing the look of concern on his friend’s face, Markwood softened. “
I apologize. I sound like your father.”

Randall chuckled. “Believe me, Maslin, you sound nothing like my father.”

A smile crossed the old wizard’s lips. “I suppose you are right, and let’s thank Ashal for that.”

“
Yes, let’s do,” Randall said, using the edge of a heavy shelf to pull himself to standing. It was time to let the mage get to work.

Markwood also rose from the floor. “I will contact you in a day or two with whatever I discover.”

“
Thank you again, Maslin.” Randall thrust out a hand.

The wizard pulled the younger man to him and hugged his shoulders. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, you hear me?”

Randall hugged the man in return. “It’s not like I’m rushing off to war, or returning to Kobalos,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“
I suppose it isn’t,” Markwood said, easing the younger man back to look at him, “but you’ve been safe here for three years. I would like to see it stay that way.”

“
I will be on my guard.” Randall turned to leave.

As the young healer exited, the wizard’s eyes upon him were full of concern.

Chapter Eight

A river at his back, Kron Darkbow knelt on the ledge of a warehouse rooftop as he stared at the city stretching below. For blocks were hundreds of smaller buildings, some with glowing windows and others remaining dark.

The night’s wind stirred, bouncing the edges of his cloak in the air. The minor tumult brought him to his senses once more. After dealing with Trelvigor he had been running on instinct, but it was time to act on the plan he had put together since discovering Belgad the Liar and not the burned wizard had been responsible for the deaths of those he would avenge. Kron did not know why Belgad had had Marcus and Aurelia Tallerus put to death, but words from the wizard Trelvigor had been enough to convince him Belgad was his primary target.

Dealing with Stilp and his three guards had been a simple matter of watching Belgad’s fortress in the Swamps. He had noticed Stilp leaving with the others, and all he had had to do was follow by rooftop. He only hoped the Docks guild had not suffered for his actions.

Seeing no one on the streets below, Kron eased a small grappling hook from a pocket of his cloak and latched it to the edge of the roof. Connected to the hook was a spool of dark silk which Kron promptly tossed over the edge. He was quickly over the side and sliding down the cord as fast as his arms and legs would allow.

As soon as his boots touched cobbled stones, Kron jerked the rope and watched the grapnel twitch, jump off the ledge and fall into his waiting gloved hand.

He eased into a shadow provided by the warehouse and glanced around.

There was still no one on the streets.

Kron slid from the blackness and trotted to his left toward another warehouse and the darkness it provided. He wound the silk cord into a tight ball and returned it and the hook to a hidden pocket.

It had taken a good bit of coin for Kron to study Belgad the Liar. The man had his hands in everything legal and illegal within Bond, but he had little real property other than his mansion fortress and whatever gold and silver he kept locked away. The only exception Kron had discovered were three sailing vessels tied up at the Point, the eastern most portion of the Docks where the North and South rivers ran into one another to form the Ursian River. From drunken sailors in several taverns, Kron had learned Belgad rarely used these ships but wanted them for personal reasons. Apparently those personal reasons involved smuggling.

Darkbow drifted into another shadow and paused, again keeping his eyes on the street. His fingers walked over his body to assure him his weapons and tools were in place. The bastard sword was slung on his back, as was his bow and a soft leather quiver filled with arrows. A dagger was stuffed into the front of his belt and another sheathed deep within his right boot. Three small throwing darts hid in the back of his left glove and another three in a leather pouch at his waist. Attached to the back of his belt was a small satchel holding various tools he had found useful. Hidden among pockets of his cloak were the grappling hook with rope and his favorite weapons, three flame-spewing grenados of hard clay.

Everything was in place.

Kron eased out of the shadow and stared further east to a point between a pair of smaller warehouses. He could make out a wooden quay with three small sailing vessels tied to it. There were no torches lit, but the moon showed some movement on the dock. Belgad wouldn’t leave his only ships unguarded.

The man in black trotted across an open area to one of the smaller warehouses near the ships. The moon splayed its light across his side of the warehouse, giving him little room to hide, but he flattened against the building as best he could and hoped his dark garb would blend in well enough with the graying wood of the building.

He paused to listen but heard no cries of alarm or marching feet. Sensing no threat, he stole across the front of the warehouse to a corner and spied around the edge.

His brief glimpse told him there were three guards chatting among stacked barrels on the dock. None appeared armored but one wore a heavy sword on his hip while the other two had iron clubs stuffed into their belts. There was no sign of anyone aboard the ships, but that wasn’t anything Kron would count on.

He strained his ears again, hoping to hear what the three men were saying, but the slight breeze was blowing the wrong direction.

Kron worked to control his breathing. Excitement and tension had been known to kill more than one man. He had not had as much time as he would have liked to form a proper plan to destroy Belgad, and now he was faced with going ahead or backing off.

Kron Darkbow was many things, but patient was not one of them.

He slid his bow and two arrows from their places on his back. One hand gripping the bow and an arrow, he laid the other bolt against the bowstring.

He took a step around the corner of the warehouse and let the arrow fly.

A voice went up. “
Archer!”

The arrow thunked into a guard’s chest, dropping him.

The other two dove behind barrels.

Kron put his second arrow to his bowstring and sauntered forward. The two foes he had left appeared to have no weapons of distance. He did not need to hide from them. And if there were others aboard the ships, they would make themselves known soon enough.

Sure enough, soon there were the thumpings of running feet from a vessel. A man appeared at the top of a gangplank.

An arrow took his life.

Kron took another arrow from his quiver and placed it against the bow.

The two men behind barrels were talking again, but Kron could not make out what was being said.

Suddenly, one of them took off at a sprint for the gangplank.

Kron turned his aim toward the man.

From behind the barrels, the other guard sprang up, a large crossbow in his hands pointed at Kron.

The man in black had no place to hide.

Kron’s mind turned to foreign men he had known, men who had brought the philosophy and fighting styles of their faraway homelands to Kron, who had studied under them and learned much. It was to one of those lessons he turned now.

His eyes closed and his mind tuned out all his senses except hearing.

There was a twanging and suddenly something was rushing at him. It whistled as it sliced through the wind.

Kron lashed out with a hand.

When he opened his eyes he saw he was gripping a short arrow.

“
That's impossible.” The guard with the crossbow stood nearly dumbstruck.

The other guard whimpered as he lay on the ground trying to yank Kron’s arrow from the back of his left calf.

The man in black dropped the crossbow bolt and slid another arrow from his quiver.

The crossbowman tugged on his weapon, but its pull was too strong to reset an arrow quickly.

Kron walked forward slowly, aiming at the man.

“
Run or die.”

The guard stared at his dark foe. His hands stopped fussing with the crossbow.

“
I give you my word no harm will come to you if you leave now.” Kron’s aim was straight and true. There was no way he could miss his target. “And take your friend. He needs healing.”

The guard glanced back at his hurt companion.

“
I’ll give you until the count of three, then I’m killing you both.” Kron raised his arrow so it pointed at the standing man’s head.

Both guards’ eyes locked on the man in black.

“
One.”

The crossbowman dropped his weapon and ran for his wounded companion.

“
Two.”

The man with the bad leg was tugged to his feet.

“
Three.”

Both men shuffled away from the dock, the injured one nearly dragged by his fellow.

Kron lowered his bow and watched until they disappeared down an alley across the street.

Once he was sure they were gone, Kron took his time examining the dock and the ships from a distance. It was unlikely there would be anyone left on board after the tumult that had just taken place, but he did not want any surprises.

The only persons he saw were the two men he had killed.

He put away his bow and arrow and made his way to the ships. He paused at one of the barrels to flip its top open to reveal its contents.

It was oil, barrels and barrels of oil.

The grin on Kron’s face would have done a demon proud.