The Paladin Caper (5 page)

The second ducked as though she feared hitting her head on the underside of the airship. She was an ogre, judging by her size and her tusks, though she was clothed like a normal person. But something about her was wrong. At first, Westteich thought that her face was oddly bright, leathery and gnarled as it was, but then he realized it was because the sun was at her back, and her face was unshadowed. In fact, she cast no shadow at all.

The third sprang from the airship down to the ground, landing in a crouch with skeletal arms spread wide, her ragged peasant dress billowing around her. Her hair was wild and her face bony and feral, and as she walked forward, she left footprints of dead grass behind.

“We hunt?” the ogre asked, speaking as carefully as seemed possible for someone with massive tusks jutting from her lower jaw.

“Loch is alive,” the heavyset man said, and Westteich noticed that the ogre and the . . . whatever the woman in the dress was . . . were both looking not at the man himself, but at the ax he held. “She has destroyed the Forge. That may be all she planned, or she may have some additional goal. Regardless, she is likely still nearby.”

“Maybe city,” said the hooded figure. “If city fight, many dead.” He spoke with a peculiar whistling tone under his words.

“Kun-kabynalti osu fuir’is?”
the leader . . . no. Westteich saw that the man’s lips hadn’t even moved this time. It was the weapons he held. They were speaking.

“Unfortunate but necessary.” The words, Westteich thought, came from the ax. “Any blow you strike while hunting down Loch and her companions is in defense of the ancients and the coming light of their return. You are not murderers.”

“Thank you,” said the bony-faced woman, and without another word, she and the others were off.

“The Forge of the Ancients has operated in secret for centuries,” said the ax to Westteich in a sudden change of topic. “How must it feel to be the one upon whose watch it fell?”

“I won’t lie,” Westteich said without missing a beat. “I’m greatly disappointed that failure on the part of our intelligence network led to this attack that cost us the Forge, and I feel betrayed by those who claim to await the return of the ancients as eagerly as I do.”

“Do you?” the ax asked dryly. “So you were not attempting to entrap Loch’s companions, using the Forge of the Ancients as
bait
, in some ill-considered attempt to improve your own standing?”

“I ask only to be remembered by the ancients as loyal when they return,” Westteich said, “and while I would willingly lay down my own life for such a cause, killing me in a fit of pique because
our people
failed to give me the information I needed would cost the ancients a valuable tool in their coming return.” He looked directly at the ax and added, “And as I understand it, the ancients do not discard useful tools casually.”

There was a thoughtful silence.

“Fool,” said the heavyset man weakly, and then went completely silent, staring at Westteich through hollow eyes.

“A man of your talents need never fear being considered unnecessary,” the ax finally said, and while its axhead had no face, it still managed to convey the impression of a smile. The heavyset man shifted his grip, holding the ax just below the head, and offered it to Westteich hilt first.

It was the moment Westteich had waited for his entire life. The destruction of the Forge had seemed a huge loss, but if it led him to working with more powerful people on more important projects, he would walk away from it with a smile upon his face.

He reached out for the ax.

“Wait.”

The voice came from the edge of the chasm, and Westteich spun. No one else had been left when the Forge had fallen. The Hunters had all been crushed by the rocks.

All save Commander Mirrok, it seemed. It pulled itself over the edge of the chasm, its armor scuffed and smoking. Westteich remembered that Loch had thrown it into the assembly chamber, which usually generated a great deal of heat as it fused crystals together.

“Operative Westteich was exemplary in the performance of his duties,” it said, rising to its feet, “but only average in his physical capability. His intelligence would be wasted were he reduced to a thrall controlled by a sentient weapon.”

Westteich very slowly lowered his hand.

“I, meanwhile, lost my weapon in the destruction of the Forge. Nor do I have the means to gain another,” Mirrok continued. “I am useless as a Hunter, but still stand strong as a tool of the ancients.”

“Well, then,” said the ax, “far be it from me to ignore the advice of a veteran Hunter. I am Arikayurichi, the Bringer of Order, one of the few living souls of the ancients bound to a weapon to await the return of my brothers . . . and I need someone to hold me while I bring them back.”

The heavyset man tossed the ax to Commander Mirrok, who caught it, spun it, and nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent,” the ax added, rolling out Mirrok’s shoulders and tilting his head back and forth. “This will do for now.”

Westteich nodded and smiled like a man who hadn’t nearly been reduced to apparent thralldom a moment ago. “Now that that’s settled, then, how can I best help you deal with Captain Loch and the others?”

“Loch is
mine
,” said Arikayurichi, the Bringer of Order. “As for you . . . Ghylspwr could use a hand with a project of his own. You may find it interesting.” The ax chuckled. “If indeed you
do
wish to see the ancients return.”

“All I’m saying,” said the griffon puppet as the crowd of onlookers laughed, “is that investing in education is something everyone should be able to agree on.”

The manticore puppet continued its attempt to eviscerate the griffon with its stinger. “You’re looking to dump money into an education system that has proven time and again to be corrupt when the Republic should be increasing its internal and external security?”

“Anyone worried about the Republic should be worried about our children showing little aptitude for mathematics and crystal work,” the griffon yelled back while clinging to the manticore’s stinger and raking savagely with its back claws, “while over in the Empire, their own educational program is working wonders!”

“Does anyone else remember that one week where the politicians weren’t at each other’s throats?” Tern asked, idly munching on an apple covered with chocolate and small nuts.

“No,” said Loch. “When did that happen?” She looked toward the edge of town, as she’d been doing for most of the afternoon, but Kail continued to not be there.

“It was while you were dead.” Desidora took a bite of some kind of flaky cheese pastry and made a face.

“Ah,” said Loch. “That explains it.”

They had spent the last several hours in the little nothing town of Hillview, which, as far as Loch could tell, had come into existence primarily because this was about as far as a merchant who left Ros-Oanki with a good two-horse wagon would go before insisting upon a bed and a decent meal. Hillview was full of farmers, mostly white but with a few Urujar families there as well, along with small restaurants and inns that promised free crystal-charging stations to anyone who paid for the night. The roads were dirt, and the hill and whatever view it purportedly offered were lost to the ages, but the town had a kahva-house, and the Urujar on the streets didn’t tense up when white people walked by. In Loch’s view, that was enough for a town to be all right.

“I am still uncertain that revealing yourself to the allies of the ancients was necessary,” said Icy, who held a carrot like a cigar between two fingers and nibbled it occasionally.

“We slunk in the shadows,” Ululenia said. She also had a carrot, which she took a bite of and then frowned. “It accomplished nothing.”

“I’m not sure
nothing
is really fair,” Tern said.

Ululenia patted her shoulder fondly. “Now, my dear, we will nip at their heels, wait for them to spin and buck in terror . . . and then sink our fangs into their hamstrings.”

“You are absolutely certain you are not evil now, Ululenia?” Icy asked.

“Because that seemed like something an
evil
unicorn would say,” Tern added, and took a bite of what turned out to be the half-eaten carrot in her hand.

“Consuming the essence of another fairy creature has not made me evil,” Ululenia said, as she’d said for the past several months repeatedly. “It has simply allowed me to become . . . more in touch with my own needs.” She took a bite of the chocolate-and-nut-covered apple that
she
now held.

“You evil horse, give me back my damn apple! I have been eating crappy Forge-of-the-Ancients food for weeks on this job, and if I wanted a damn carrot, I would have gotten a damn carrot!”

“My sorrow is the slow-flowing river, choked with weeds of guilt,” Ululenia said, and took another bite.

Loch scanned the crowd. It was full of farmers and merchants and still held good numbers, even as the puppet show had wound down into the usual hijinks and yelling. The Republic and the Empire had almost gone to war again a few months ago, and ever since then, people had paid a lot more attention to things, even in little towns like Hillview. “Let’s move to the kahva-house.”

“Loch, can you make her give me back my apple?”

“But your apple now has evil-unicorn spit on it,” Ululenia protested. In her human form, she was a pale woman with ash-blond hair and a simple white peasant dress. Once it had made her look innocent. Now it slid along her curves in a way that made people wonder what it might look like slithering down into a pile on the ground. “You wouldn’t want to drink in my evil-unicorn spit and become
evil
, would you?”

Loch turned to Ululenia. “Play nice or find a virgin. Come on.”

The dragon puppet finally pulled the griffon and manticore apart. “Should Archvoyant Cevirt focus more on educating our future or protecting our present? Remember, it’s your Republic!”

“Stay informed!” the crowd shouted back, and with the show over, the farmers and merchants began to go back to their lives.

“You are concerned for Kail,” Icy said, falling into step beside Loch as they made their way across the packed dirt of the town square toward the kahva-house.

“He’s a good scout. He’ll be fine.” Loch didn’t look toward the edge of town again. Kail was indeed a good scout and wouldn’t come into town through the main road, anyway.

“It had to be him,” Desidora added.

“Yep.”

“The Hunters could detect Ululenia even if she took the form of something small,” Desidora added again.

“Mm-hmm.”

“And my own death magic and Hessler’s illusions might well alert whatever airship comes to investigate the destruction of the Forge,” Desidora continued to add.

“You’ve convinced me,” Loch said, and Desidora sighed.

“
You
are concerned for Kail,” Icy said to Desidora.

“Seriously,” Tern said to Ululenia, “we are going to
talk
about you stealing that apple. That was the last one they had, and do you have any
idea
what it’s like to want something sweet and beautiful and then see someone else get it instead? I mean, aside from Mister Dragon making off with Dairy?”

“I am very happy for them,” Ululenia said crisply.

“Because by all rights you had that virgin locked down,” Tern went on.

“Very. Happy. For. Them.”

“You really want to goad the possibly evil unicorn?” Desidora asked Tern. “Or is this like when you kept taking jabs at me because you didn’t like me being a death priestess?”

“This is like
she ate my chocolate apple
,” Tern said, “and I think you need to pick a side here. Are you a death priestess right now, or a love priestess?”

“I can pretty much go both ways now,” Desidora said.

Tern glared. “Well, that at least sounds like something a love priestess would say.”

Hessler, still looking like a collection of broomsticks someone had shoved into a wizard’s robe, came out of the kahva-house with a tray full of waxed-paper cups. “Oh, is the show over already? I had some questions about whether the kahva-beans were purchased from someplace that pursued ethical trading practices, and they had to get the manager to—” He broke off and looked at Tern. “You got a carrot instead of one of those chocolate apples. Good on you for taking care of yourself!”

“Well, I thought I’d eat a little healthier.” Tern took a cup overflowing with whipped cream, with kahva presumably somewhere far underneath. Ululenia smiled broadly and took another bite of the apple.

Loch grabbed her own kahva, which was simple and black. “We’re going to wait inside.”

“Is there still no sign of Kail?” Hessler asked, frowning and squinting in a way that was subtly different from his normal expression of perpetual frowning and squinting. “Assuming that an airship came from the nearest port city upon detecting the destruction of the Forge—”

“We’re not worried,” Loch cut in.

“Kail is going to be fine,” Desidora said.

“She has an itemized list justifying the current course of action,” Icy added.

“I’d love to hear it,” said Kail, coming around the corner of the kahva-house.