Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (3 page)

Hoyle sat in the late afternoon shadows on the third landing
of the side stairs of a four storey building located on the edge of Merchant’s
Square.  He sat with his cloak pulled tight against the breeze that had not
relented all day, watching the squat tower across the square with the Goralon
emblem on the shield above the door.  From his vantage point, he could see over
the gate blocking access to the yard, and it appeared, based on the warehouses
behind the tower, this was the Goralon merchant guild's headquarters in Tala’ahar. 
As it was late afternoon and the spring sun was setting, the merchants were packing
up their stalls and wagons for the night, and proceeding home for the day.  A
few of the more questionable food vendors hawked the items remaining from the
day.  The other more successful ones had sold out of food by mid-afternoon.

It had taken the better part of the day to track down the
final destination of the carriage through his street contacts.  He had been
double-crossed by someone, or it had always been planned as a trap.  Hoyle
wasn’t sure which angered him more.  He had to be here.  The Silent Blades, the
thief guild he belonged to, were expecting him to have their cut of the five
thousand Imperial Marks by the end of the week, and they did not take kindly to
being left out. His motto '
it's
better to be careful than dead'
screamed across his mind, but he had no choice but to ignore it.  '
A roach
caught between a boot and a rock'
also crossed his mind.

His gaze swept the slowly emptying square.  He noted a few
other members of his guild working the remaining crowd, as well as a couple
from the other guilds.  The seven thieves’ guilds each had tried staking claims
to a portion of Tala’ahar some twenty years ago, but that had gotten bloody
enough that the Emperor was forced to step in and settle things.  The three
remaining thieves’ guilds were forced to maintain an uneasy truce so that business
could continue in the shadows, even though Hoyle was sure someone at a high
level was getting their share so the guilds would be left alone.

As his gaze continued to travel around the square, he again
noticed the slender cloaked figure sitting on the fountain wall that had been
there since he had arrived.  The figure stood, took one step toward the same tower
he was watching, stopped, and sat back down on the edge of the fountain.  He
studied the figure beneath the cloak and saw wisps of long brown hair escaping
the confines of the hood.  The woman stood up again a few minutes later, took a
dozen steps forward, and then stopped.  She whirled around to face the
fountain, arms stiff at her sides, with her hands in a fist.  She was saying
something, and although Hoyle was very good at reading lips, the distance and lingering
light made it impossible.  As she turned again to face the tower, she bumped
into a squat man with unkempt hair ambling past, and was almost knocked off her
feet into the thick mud that was all that remained of the overnight snowfall.

Hoyle sighed.  He recognized the squat man from his gait and
the same clothes he wore day after day.  Coop had just made this woman a pouch full
of coins poorer.  Hoyle sighed again and stood.  He wondered at her interest in
the tower.  He was going to have to introduce himself.

---o---

Reaching the ground at the side of the building, he stayed
in the shadows as he watched Coop disappear around a corner.  He drifted
through the lengthening shadows, expecting to see the lamplighters appear any
time to light, and refill if necessary, the three pace high oil lamps spaced
about ten spans apart along the major avenues and city squares.  All the lamps
did was give false comfort to the unwary, and more shadows for him and his ilk
to work within and from.

Moving quietly in his soft-soled leather boots, he
approached Coop, whose real name was Cooper.  “How much?” he asked as Coop
poured the coins from the woman’s coin pouch into his hand.

Coop jumped, just about dropping his precious haul.  “None
of your business.  Go away,” Coop replied indignantly, turning his back on
Hoyle.

“I will let you take two marks, but I take the rest – and
the pouch” he stated glibly. “That’s more than fair trade for the amount of
work you’ve done to ‘earn’ it.”

“What makes you think I’m going to give you any?” Coop
queried still with his back to Hoyle.

“You mistook my statement for a question.  I’m not asking.”

Coop turned to face him, a jagged knife in his hand, but
stopped short as the point of Hoyle’s rapier rested against his throat. 
“Wha-?” Coop sputtered.

“Mine’s longer.”  He smiled.  “You’ll have trouble drinking
all that money away if you have a hole in your throat.  Two marks, the rest are
mine.  That’s more than enough to keep you drunk for a week.  Or...”

“Fine, but the guild’s going to hear of this,” Coop
threatened, as he counted out two marks worth of coin and tossed the pouch with
the remaining coin to Hoyle.

“Much obliged,” he quipped, “but I’m in a different guild. 
My apologies.”

Coop grunted something about Hoyle watching his back as he
returned his knife to his belt and drifted into the deepening shadows.

---o---

Hoyle returned to the corner of the building and surveyed
the square.  To his right was the Goralon tower, three buildings over.  A guard
now stood beside the front door in similar, non-descript garb as that of the
soldiers who had tried to kill him just this morning.  Hoyle was pretty sure
this one was different from the three this morning. He was certainly not the
massive Brows or the skeletal Whisper, but he wasn’t
completely
certain.

The woman had returned to sitting on the fountain wall,
still staring at the tower and fidgeting.  She had one hand clasped around
something under her robes, possibly a necklace or brooch.  Hoyle watched for
some time; watched her stand, move toward the tower, then change her mind and
go back and sit down.  She did this several times.  The guard noticed too, and
seemed to have a bored indifference, but even at this distance Hoyle could
sense more than see a predatory gleam in the soldier’s eyes.  The woman must be
somewhat comely, but as Hoyle could now only see her from the side, with her
cloak up over her head, the only thing he had been able to tell was that she
was tall, and had long shapely legs.

Finally, the woman got up and strode toward the tower, her
chin held high. 
This could be interesting
thought Hoyle, as he rounded
the corner and sauntered two buildings closer, trying to stay inconspicuous. 
He leaned against a post holding up the second floor of the building beside the
Tower grounds.  To get to the front door of the tower, all Hoyle had to do was
pass the front wall of what he assumed was the stable, the gate and two spans
of the building front.

The woman reached the bottom of the stairs and called to the
guard “I have business with your master.” She was still gripping the necklace
beneath her robes.

“Sure you do little lady” responded the guard slyly.  From
this vantage point Hoyle could confirm the gleam in the guard’s eye.  “What’s
his name?”

The woman seemed taken aback for a moment, apparently
thinking.  “He didn’t provide one.  He told me to come here if I wanted
training as a wizard,” she replied somewhat shakily.

“Goralon’s got no use for wizards,” the guard answered
angrily.  “It’s got a use for whores though.  Want to come in and spread your
legs for me and my boys?”

“You’re a... a... a disgusting pig!” The woman exclaimed.

At this, the guard started moving down the stairs towards
the woman.  Hoyle moved quickly from his position to intercept the guard. 
Pretending to be winded, Hoyle stepped between the woman and the guard as he drew
his sword.  He put his right hand on the guard’s chest, while bending over to
‘catch his breath’.  He peeked back at the woman, seeing her face for the first
time.  She was beautiful.

“Please sir, don’t mind my sister,” he said as he raised his
eyes to meet the soldier’s.  Thankfully he hadn’t met this particular soldier
this morning, thank Voral.  “She’s not in her right mind since the death of our
mother.”

The guard took a step back, “Get your hands off me!” he
demanded, pushing Hoyle backwards into the woman.  Hoyle purposely stumbled
slightly before standing erect.  He faced the guard, the woman a mere handspan
behind him.

“Your sister!” the woman cried, “I haven’t seen you before
in my life!”

Hoyle looked at the guard, and made a finger motion to his
own forehead.  “See, so out of her mind with grief that she doesn’t even
recognize her own brother,” Hoyle turned to face her, grabbed both her
shoulders and looked into her eyes with a wink, “Keela, Keela, don’t you
remember me?!” Hoyle said as he shook her shoulders slightly.

The woman looked perplexed, which in this situation worked
perfectly, as Hoyle handed the guard an Imperial Mark, and added “Thank you for
taking care of her.” 

The guard muttered something he could not hear. Hoyle led
the woman from the square and down a small side road, until he found a small
alley to steer her into.  She was still sputtering about the ordeal.  She
stopped suddenly, realizing where she was.

“What are you doing?” the woman demanded, looking around the
tight confines, Hoyle purposely standing, blocking the end of the alley.

“Saving your life,” Hoyle responded quietly, tossing her
coin pouch towards her.

“My pouch!” She exclaimed as she caught it out of reflex.  “You
stole from me, and now you expect me to show you some gratitude?!”

“A little would be nice!” Hoyle replied resentfully, “Do you
know what that guard was going to do to you before I stepped in?  Do you?” She
looked confused. 

Hoyle took this moment to study her.  She was tall, as tall
as him, with long legs under her robes.  Her robes and cloak were a deep
burgundy, the cloak trimmed with rabbit fur.  Her long brown hair fell from the
hood of her cloak, her bangs framing the alabaster skin of her face.  High
cheek bones resided below large, brown, doe-like eyes; ruby lips completed her
beauty.

 “I returned your purse to you, admittedly lighter than when
you lost it, but it was not me who took those coins.  I am tempted to leave it
three Marks lighter still, just to prove a point to you about paying attention
in this city, but I have enough here of my own,” He held up the guard’s coin
purse he had just palmed.

“Leave me alone!” the woman demanded, and started past Hoyle
who grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the alley.

The woman staggered in the mud and filth littering the
narrow chasm between buildings, but then recovered and took two backwards
strides.  “
Cravash!”
she intoned, flinging her hands out in front of her
body, fingers rigid and pointing at Hoyle.  Small marbles of light appeared
suddenly and shot towards Hoyle’s chest so quickly he didn’t have a chance to
flinch.  As they hit his chest, they dissolved into a light mist and
dissipated.  He could feel his firebird earring grow warm, but other than that,
the spell had no other apparent effect.  Hoyle looked up from his chest to see
the woman’s stunned look.

“You stole the quafa'shilaar,” she whispered just loud
enough for him to hear.

Celia was stunned.  It all fit together in her mind.  The
thief must have had some immunity to magic, which is why the magic wards she
had cast on the vault hadn’t incapacitated them, and why the magic alarms
hadn’t notified her.  Here was a thief who had her coin pouch and had quite obviously,
based on her failed spell, some immunity to her magic.  But why then did her
trace spell lead her to this tower, and not to him?

She took a closer look at him as he was touching something
by his left ear, or possibly brushing his hair back.   He was as tall as her,
his eyes at the same level as hers, and he wore fine, though drab, clothing; a
dark jacket and trousers under a greyish-green cloak finished with dark leather
boots.  His face was average, with dark brown eyes, narrow nose, with dark hair
dropping down in front to slightly cover his eyes.  Completing his look was a
neatly trimmed goatee.  His only piece of jewelry was an earring in his left
ear that was barely visible under the hood of his cloak – a small silver
firebird.  She could swear that its eyes had just been glowing.

“What? What makes you say that?” the man asked warily,
clearly caught off guard.

Celia shook herself.  “It only makes sense,” she stated
matter-of-fact.  “You are obviously a thief, and you are apparently immune to
magic.  Only someone with both these traits could steal from the Dar'Shilaar
embassy.”

“Someone stole from the Dar'Shilaar embassy?!” the man
sounded shocked.  “They stole magestones?!”

“Only the thief would know that.  Further proof,” she
accused.

“I beg to differ, but I believe that you just accused me of
stealing magestones,” the man retorted nonchalantly, “right after I saved you
from what that guard was planning to do...”

Celia grasped her amulet through her robe. She ignored the
man’s comment. “The more important question is, if I am correct and you are the
thief, then why are the quafa'shilaar in that tower, and not with you?” 

She saw him scowl briefly out of the corner of her eye, but
it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.  Perhaps she had only imagined it.

“Fine, if you’re not going to thank me, then you’re
welcome!  I’ll be off now.”  The man turned and disappeared out of the alley
into the dark.

Celia looked around the dark alley skittishly and hurried
after him.

---o---

The man was striding quickly down the narrow side street,
away from the tower when she caught up with him, her long strides matching
his.  He glanced at her sideways, but did not change his gait.  She was not
sure where he was going, but she was smart enough to know she didn’t want to be
alone in Tala’ahar at night.  Even being with this thief was better than trying
to wind herself back to the embassy through the dark maze of city streets.  While
the main thoroughfares were lit with oil lamps, connecting the main squares of
the city they were not on a main avenue now.  It was behind them.  They were in
the dark heart of the trade district now, twisting and turning past closed shoppes
and tall warehouses lining the tight streets, dark alleys like gaping mouths
spread at uneven intervals between buildings.  Some buildings leaned on others,
like drunken friends.  Celia could hear movement down some of those alleys, and
every once in awhile could see dark shapes moving at the edge of the deep
shadows.  At those times, the man beside her would slide his rapier slightly
out of its scabbard with a slight
hiss
, and the figures would fade back
into the safety of the dark.

After a time of walking, she grabbed his arm gently and
offered “Thank you.”  While walking through this rats nest, she had had enough time
to reflect on the possibilities of what could have happened to her.  She was
smarter than that, but she had still managed to make a mess of things. “Could
we stop for a short rest? It’s been a long day.”

Without slowing, the man glanced at her again, “Not here.
Keep walking.”  He sounded annoyed.   One of the temple bell towers chimed the
hour, with others throughout the city joining in.  Eight bells.

Celia did not talk again for a while.  “Why Keela?”

“What?” the man responded absently, sounding confused.

“Back in the square, you called me Keela,” she replied. 
“Why Keela?”

“Oh.  I used to have a hound named Keela when I was a
child.  It seemed appropriate... at the time,” he now sounded amused.

“A hound!?”  Celia fumed as they kept walking.  She had lost
track of where they were, except that the glowing lights of the Imperial Sky
Citadel hovering a hundred, or maybe fifty, spans above the city gave her a
small frame of reference.  That was the only landmark she could glimpse between
the buildings, and that still did not tell her
exactly
where they were.

“Okay, what
is
your name then?” the man asked.

“Celia,” she answered reluctantly.

He laughed loudly, startling her, and several others, based
on the sounds she heard from nearby alleys; bottles clinking, one bottle
smashing amid curses.

“What’s so funny?” Celia demanded.

“Close enough.” The man stated as they finally rounded a
corner to a more brightly lit street.  Noises of music, singing and
conversation rose from several of the well-lit buildings along the street,
distracting Celia.  She counted two inns and several taverns along the street
before it turned a bend out of sight.  Other than the Imperial Way, and its
sister Trade Way, she was sure not one other street ran straight in the entire
city.

---o---

Stepping into an inn with a sign painted with a red rooster
hanging out front, Celia was assaulted by heat, noise, and pipe smoke.  While
she welcomed the first, coming in from the freezing night air, the other two
overwhelmed her senses.  The man she was with paused, looking around the
crowded common room.  He saw someone he apparently knew, grabbed her by the arm
and threaded his way through the crowd, dragging her gently behind.  As they
wound their way towards the back of the room, she glanced around.   The inn had
a high ceiling in the common room,
as they went
she supposed, with sleeping
room doors overlooking through a balustrade on the walk above.  A hearth at each
end fed their warmth into the large room.  A long bar up the center of the room
served drinks on three sides, the fourth opening to what Celia could only
assume was the kitchen at the back, based on the smells and noises she could
sense from that direction.  A small stage sat in the far corner where three
musicians played a catchy tune that drifted about the room.  The man dragged
her past the near end of the bar, heading towards the far corner where his
acquaintances sat at a small round table.

As they approached the table, being jostled by the generally
jovial crowd, Celia sized up the two women sitting at the table.  One of the
women was slightly heavier than she, with curling blonde locks and ample curves
apparent within her tight blouse under her leather vest.  The blonde’s eyes had
small wrinkles at the corners that told her that she was prone to smiling,
which was confirmed by the twinkle in her eye.  The other woman stood as she
and the man approached, and gave the man a small kiss that spoke of more than
friendship.  This woman was tall and lithe, and was dressed in men’s breeches
of black leather, with a leather vest over a dark grey blouse, and wore a knife
on the belt at her side.

“Hoyle,” she said after she stepped back from the kiss. 
“Hicks tells me you have gotten yourself into some sort of trouble that even I
didn’t know about.” She stated with an arched eyebrow.

“Has she?” the man, apparently named Hoyle, responded
looking at the other woman.

“Didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to share,” admitted the
second woman they had called Hicks as she picked up her mug and took a long
drink.  Celia could sense an undercurrent of tension from her that appeared to
be directed at either Hoyle or the other woman, or both.

“And who do we have here?” asked the leather clad woman as
she settled back into her seat, gesturing to Celia.

The man named Hoyle sat himself in the only other vacant
chair, beside the still unnamed woman and introduced her, “Salrissa, Hicks,
this is Celia.  Celia, this is Salrissa and Hicks.”

As Celia was nodding to the two women who had pierced her
with cold stares, Hoyle had hooked a chair from a neighboring table with his
foot, causing the man who had leaned out of it to fall to the floor with a
curse.  Hoyle presented it to Celia while at the same time glaring at the man
who looked ready to start a confrontation.  One of his friends grabbed his
shoulder and whispered into his ear.  The man looked back at Hoyle, who smiled,
and the man and his friend moved off.

Celia looked at Hoyle with an arched eyebrow, fingering her
amulet under her robe.  She didn’t feel she was in immediate danger from these
three, yet she didn’t feel entirely safe either.  “Aren’t you forgetting
someone?” Celia prodded.

Hoyle looked confused, “Salrissa... Hicks... You... Nope,
not forgetting anyone.” He said with a slight smile.

“She means you, you dundering fool!” Hicks explained.

“Oh, what, you didn’t know me by sight?!  My reputation
hasn’t worked to the far corners of the Empire?  I’m wounded...” Hoyle feigned
falling off his chair.

All three women rolled their eyes at the same time, and
catching the others in the same motion, shared a smile.  “His name is Hoyle,
and he’s notorious for his overinflated ego and poor dancing skills. Why are
you here, Celia?” asked Salrissa warily as Hoyle mimicked getting stabbed in
the chest beside her. Salrissa ignored him.

Celia looked around the table at three serious faces, trying
to decide where to start, when Hoyle stated quietly “She believes that I stole
something from her, more specifically, from the Dar'Shilaar embassy.  She’s
also interested in the same building I– we are.”  At the mention of the
embassy, the expressions of the two women facing her became decidedly frigid,
though Hicks quirked her eyebrow in Hoyle’s direction.

“And what building are
we
interested in?” queried
Hicks staring at Hoyle intently.  There seemed to be some underlying tension
that Celia was noticing, but unable to determine the source.

“Why the Goralon Merchant’s Guild, of course!” replied the
smirking man.  “Apparently they have Celia’s, my apologies, the embassy’s,
stolen trinkets, as well as the money they owe me for some work I did for
them.”

“I see,” said Salrissa, looking at Celia coldly, “and why do
you feel that they have your
trinkets
?”

“Dar'Shilaar do not use
trinkets
,” Celia replied
indignantly.  “I placed a trace spell on the
items
in question.  It led
me to the Goralon tower on Merchant’s Square,” she admitted more firmly than
she felt.  Her pulse was pounding, and her breath was shallow as she sat on the
edge of her seat, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.  She gripped her amulet
through the thick fabric of her robes, its familiar presence calming her only
very slightly.

“Needless to say, we need to help her get into the tower and
retrieve her items,” stated Hoyle with the most serious expression she had seen
on his face in the short time since she had met him.  “Along with my gold.” He
added, looking pointedly at Salrissa and Hicks.

The table was quiet as a serving woman brought two mugs of a
brown, cloudy liquid, and two plates of stew slathered over a thick piece of
bread.  Celia hadn’t noticed who had ordered, but was thankful as she realized
just how hungry she was.  Sampling her meal daintily, she took a bite of bread
soaked in warm stew, careful not to spill any on her robes, and felt the warmth
spread throughout her body.  Once the serving woman was gone, no one spoke
immediately.

“So what
is
the plan?” asked Salrissa finally.