The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) (20 page)

8

Two days passed. He was fed a disturbing swill twice, its
foul taste lingering for hours afterward. But it was edible if he pinched his
nose, and at least he didn’t get sick from it. Bug-Eyed Jake made no attempt to
talk to him, and no matter how hard he tried to remember what the wand had
done, the knowledge just wasn’t there. It was like he had amnesia all over
again, but this time it was only for that moment, and of all the moments he needed
to remember, that was the one that mattered most.

The guards only laughed when he asked what the charges were.
Then they tormented Bug-Eyed Jake by telling him how they looked forward to
cutting off his other hand. “Maybe we’ll take a foot, instead?” one of them
said. “He might have prehensile toes.”

That led to an extensive explanation of what prehensile
meant before Bug-Eyed Jake adamantly denied having the ability to wrap his toes
around coin purses or to pick locks. Then he amended his statement by adding,
“At least, not good enough to avoid getting caught.”

Then, just when he was expecting another bowl of the nearly
inedible swill, Ortis came to visit.

“Ortis!” Angus cried, jumping up and hurrying to the bars
when he saw his companion. Then he noted the guard beside him and tried to
corral his excitement.

Ortis turned and slipped the guard a coin and asked, “A bit
of privacy, please?”

The guard nodded. “When you are ready, pound on the door.”

“What am I charged with, Ortis?” Angus demanded as the guard
walked away. “Why am I being held here?”

“You’re lucky they didn’t let you die,” Ortis said. “If they
had known who did it sooner, they would have.”

“But,” Angus said. “What did I do? What am I charged with?”

Ortis frowned and scratched his pale white cheek as the
orange irises of his eyes narrowed. “Nothing, yet,” he said. “They haven’t
decided which laws you actually broke.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Angus,” Ortis said, his tone puzzled, wavering. “Whatever
possessed you to use that wand in Hedreth’s? Hobart told you that magic was
strictly regulated here.”

Angus nodded. Hobart had said it was regulated, but, “Hobart
didn’t say it was prohibited,” he said.

Ortis shook his head. “The prohibition was implied,” he
said. “Hobart said not to use destructive magic in Hellsbreath, and that is
exactly what you did.” He sniffed and scrunched up his nose. “And now you’re
here, in this pungent little cell, paying the price.”

“For how long?” Angus asked.

“The damage was considerable, Angus. We’re trying to
negotiate a fine instead of a long-term stay in one of these cozy little compartments.”

“No,” Angus said, shaking his head. “How long was I unconscious?”

“Three days,” Ortis said. “If it weren’t for Giorge’s quick
actions, you would be dead now. He staunched the bleeding long enough for the
healer to get there.”

Angus frowned. “I suppose he thinks I owe him my thanks,” he
grumbled. “Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice harsh and unforgiving. “If he
hadn’t tried to break into my room, I would not be here at all.
He’s
the
reason I’m in here.”

“He did considerably more for you than you realize, Angus,”
Ortis objected. “But we will discuss that later, after we leave Hellsbreath.”

“You sound confident that you’ll be able to get me out of
here,” Angus said. “Why?”

Ortis shrugged. “Hobart and Hedreth are still on friendly
terms, despite what you did. Once you explain the situation to him and to the
magistrate, we believe we can find a reasonable resolution. It will also be a
costly one. You did a lot of damage.”

“What kind?” Angus asked, his voice excited. “How much? What
did the wand do? Can you describe it to me? I—”

“Later,” Ortis cut him off. “I can’t stay much longer; I
only gave the guard a silver. He’ll remember his duty soon. Besides, they
confiscated the wand. We’re negotiating with them to have it returned to you
when we leave, but don’t expect it.”

“More negotiation,” Angus grumbled. “More cost. At this
rate, I’ll be indebted to you for a very long time.”

Ortis leaned in and lowered his voice. “No you won’t,” he whispered.
“For good or ill, you are now part of our banner, and we take care of our own.
Besides,” he glanced at the adjacent cell and lowered his voice even further.
“Giorge was able to negotiate a very lucrative deal for those coins of yours,
so much so that he is trying to convince us to go north to get the one you
spent. But that’s not our concern at the moment. Hedreth will be pacified, I
assure you, but the magistrate is another matter. You will have to pay for the
repairs to the city wall.”

“The
city
wall?” Angus repeated. “How much damage did
I do?”

“You can see for yourself when we leave,” Ortis said. “For
now, let’s just say that Hellsbreath will remember you. The magistrate, too; he
is inclined to ban you from Hellsbreath for life, even if you have a tolerable
explanation. Of course, since you’re part of our banner, we may have to join
you in that exile. Hobart says it is part of the magistrate’s negotiation
strategy.”

“What else did they confiscate?” Angus asked, his voice
sharply tinged by a sudden, deep, upwelling of fear.

“Very little, actually,” Ortis said. “The garnet and coins
from your robe. Don’t expect to get them back. The fine will easily surpass
their value.”

“What about my scrolls?” Angus demanded. “Teffles’ book?”

Ortis smiled softly and lowered his voice again. “Softly,
Angus. We don’t need to be overheard.”

“Fine,” Angus barked. “What of them?” he continued in a
harsh, barely restrained whisper.

“They are secure,” Ortis said. “Giorge….”

“Giorge?” Angus half-shouted as the furrow of his brow
attacked the bridge of his nose and his teeth gnashed together. “What did he
do?”

“Let’s just say he acted quickly, before the guardsmen
arrived. Your backpack, scrolls, and map. You needn’t worry about them.”

Angus shook his head and almost turned away from Ortis.
Giorge
is the reason I’m in here. Remember that.

“Now,” Ortis said. “It will help us in the negotiations if
we knew what happened. Why don’t you tell me? I will report it to the
magistrate, and if he is satisfied with your explanation, it will greatly
reduce the amount of time you spend here. Speak the truth to me, Angus; the
magistrate will almost certainly send a Truthseer to verify what you tell me.”

“A Truthseer?” Angus asked.

Ortis nodded. “They use magic to divine the veracity of the
claims being made. As I understand it, there are subtle but clear distinctions
between how a person’s body reacts when they tell the truth and how it reacts
when they lie. A Truthseer is trained to recognize these changes, even when
there is an attempt to distort them with magic.”

“Very well, then,” Angus said. “As you know, I told all of
you not to disturb me while I was in that room….”

9

Several days later, four armed guardsmen and a wizard
escorted Angus from the dungeons to the lift area, where his friends were
standing beside a large pile of gear, including several coils of ropes. As he
neared, Giorge unslung Angus’s backpack from his shoulders.

“Here,” Giorge said, holding out Angus’s backpack.

As Angus reached for it, the wizard escorting him put up a
restraining hand and said, “He is still in our custody.”

The four guards took up a position around Angus and the
wizard removed a small, tightly wound scroll from his sleeve. He unrolled it to
its foot-long length, cleared his voice, and read through its contents in a
clear, loud voice:

By order of Theodorus, Magistrate of Hellsbreath, Angus,
wizard and member of The Banner of the Wounded Hand, is hereby banned from this
city for a period of five years. At the end of this period, if Angus wishes to regain
admittance to Hellsbreath, he must provide payment adequate to cover any and
all expenses related to the repairs of the city wall for which he has been
responsible. Such payment will be reduced by the 5,000 gold coins that have
already been surrendered by The Banner of the Wounded Hand in his name. If an
additional 2,500 gold coins are provided at any time during the five year ban, said
ban will be rescinded and Angus will be allowed admittance into the city
without further penalty. However, during any and all future visits to
Hellsbreath, be they before or after the ban has been lifted, Angus will be
required to surrender all magical devices, books of spells, scrolls, or other
paraphernalia pertaining to wizardry into the care of the Wizards’ School for
the duration of his stay in Hellsbreath. Such items shall be returned to him
unaltered only after he has left the confines of the city wall of Hellsbreath.

This injunction has been duly recorded, and a report of
this incident has been properly transmitted to the records officers in Tyrag
and Wyrmwood. This copy of the injunction is provided to Angus for presentation
to all records officers upon entrance to and exit from any and all regulated
regions of the Kingdom of Tyr.

The wizard paused, scrunched up his eyes a bit, and muttered
to himself for a few seconds before finishing, “The injunction is signed by the
Magistrate of Hellsbreath, Theodorus the Third; by Hogbart, holder of The
Banner of the Wounded Hand; and by the wizard Angus, apprentice of Voltari,
Blackhaven Tower.” He rolled up the scroll and handed it to Angus. “Present
this to the scribe below as you leave. He will note your departure and update
the banner’s records accordingly.”

His escort continued to stand around him, with the wizard—a
fat oaf in need of a shave—directly in front of them. He sighed, nodded to his
companions, and asked, “May I join them?”

“You are still within the city walls,” the wizard said, his
voice bland.

“Very well,” Angus said, crossing his arms and gritting his
teeth. After two weeks in the dungeons, he had had more than enough dealings
with hostile guards, the magistrate’s bureaucratic attitude, and of Hellsbreath
itself. If he had had more time to visit the city proper, he might feel
differently. But…. “How long before the lift comes back up?”

“It will be a while,” Hobart said. “If you would have been
here ten minutes ago, we could have gone down then.”

“No,” the wizard said. “It will return quickly. Your group
will be the only ones going down.”

“Why?” Hobart asked.

The wizard shrugged. “Orders,” he said. “I believe the
magistrate wants to be rid of you as quickly as possible, now that he’s made
his decision.”

“More cost,” Hobart grumbled. “Now we have to pay for the
whole lift.”

The wizard shook his head. “The magistrate said it would be
worth losing the fee for the lift just to get Angus out of the city before he
could cause more damage.”

“I don’t blame him,” Hobart muttered, glaring at Angus.

The escorts remained stationed around Angus until the lift
returned, and then they ushered him into it before the rest of the banner was
allowed to join them. Nothing was said as they descended at a rapid,
disorienting pace, one that was much faster than their trip up. When they reached
the bottom, Angus was quickly ejected from the lift, and the rest of the banner
was barely given enough time to remove their gear before the lift began to
rise.

Giorge finally gave Angus his backpack, but he didn’t bother
opening it; there was no time, and it didn’t matter anyway. Besides, if Giorge
had taken anything….

Bandor was standing solemnly next to their horses, not far
beyond the scribe’s station. He had them all saddled and ready to go. There was
a new one, but Angus didn’t have time to worry about that; he needed to present
the injunction to the scribe. As he moved to do so, his companions gathered up
their gear and walked silently past him, toward the horses.

Angus stepped in behind them, following only far enough to
reach the scribe’s station, where he stopped and turned. The others continued
on to the horses, and Hobart greeted Bandor with a grateful nod, clasping his
arm and handing him a coin for his troubles. Then Bandor turned and limped
toward the stables.

“Well?” the scribe asked. “Are you just going to stand
there?”

“Sorry,” Angus said, his heart heavy in his hand as he
slowly held out the scroll.

The scribe accepted it, read through the injunction
carefully, opened his book to a page labeled “THE BANNER OF THE WOUNDED HAND,”
and made several quick notations. When he finished, he let the scroll roll up
into its natural form and set it along the top of the book. Angus thought about
reaching out for it, but he didn’t; the scribe would give it back to him when
he was ready to do so.

The scribe looked up at him, glanced high up over his
shoulder, and shook his head before reaching for the thin slip of parchment
that had marked the page for the—
his
—banner. He squinted at it, shook
his head again, and muttered, “It’s a mistake.” Then he looked at Angus, shook
his head once more, and said, “You are far too fortunate.”

He opened the chest next to his podium and read through the
message on the piece of parchment once more. “Far too fortunate,” he said again
as he lifted a wand case from the chest and laid it across the pages of his
book. He held it there with one hand to keep it from sliding, and then brought
out Teffles’ book with the other.

The scribe looked at Angus once more, sighed, and handed him
back the injunction.

Angus put it in a pocket of his robe and waited, trying to
ignore the pounding in his chest.

The scribe opened the wand case and took out Teffles’ ivory
wand. He studied it for a few seconds and muttered, “Admirable craftsmanship.”
Before he handed the wand to Angus, he glanced back over his shoulder and shook
his head again. “Far too fortunate.”

Angus gratefully accepted the wand and secured it in the
straps in his robe’s left sleeve. When the scribe handed him Teffles’ book, he
put it in the large pocket near his belt. He intended to read more from it as
he rode, and it would be easier to access from there. Since there was little to
do while he had been in the dungeon, he had spent his time trying to memorize
Teffles’ shorthand and learning how
think
with it, and he was anxious to
find out if his efforts had paid off.

“I trust you will use those more wisely from here on out?”
the scribe said.

“Yes,” Angus said. Even though he hadn’t needed the lesson;
he had learned it well enough. “It was an accident.”

The scribe studied him for a long moment before chuckling
and shaking his head. “Well,” he said, his smile mechanical, “I hope you
enjoyed your stay in Hellsbreath. Do come back again…in five years.”

“May I go now?” Angus asked. “My companions are waiting.”

The scribe waved him away, not bothering to watch him as he
left.

“Angus,” Hobart said, holding out the reins of Teffles’
horse. “Meet Gretchen. She’s all yours, so you’ll have to tend for her
yourself. We’ll teach you how. I hope you learn quickly.”

“I do,” Angus said as he mounted his new horse and patted
her neck. She was a docile, short steed, and the saddle was almost comfortable.
They rode in silence until they were past the cloud of ash and across the
river. They returned the sheets to Jagra, and Hobart looked back at the city
and whistled. “No wonder they were angry,” he said. “I thought it looked bad
enough from inside.”

“Wow,” Giorge said. “I am so glad you didn’t hit me with
that thing.”

Angus turned and gulped. A work crew was assembling a
scaffold up against the wall, and they had already reached two thirds of the
way up. Above them was a gaping hole, nearly as wide as the scaffolding—one in
which ten men could easily stand abreast. He couldn’t see any cracks radiating
out from the hole, but they were nearly a mile away. Still, its edge appeared
to be quite smooth, as if someone had carefully tunneled their way out of it.

“You did that?” Jagra asked, fear and admiration raging over
his face as he looked from one to another of them.

“Yes,” Angus said. “It was an accident.”

Jagra looked at the wall and shook his head. “I would hate
to see what you could do on purpose,” he said. “I was here when it happened.
When I looked over, I swear I saw snow falling from that hole.”

“Oh?” Angus said, his interest keenly piqued. “Can you
describe it to me?”

Jagra shrugged. “What’s to describe? There was a big clap of
thunder, and then there was a hole in the wall and it was snowing. It didn’t
snow very long, though.”

Disappointed that he couldn’t offer any more details, Angus
thanked him and they moved on.

“Angus,” Giorge said a few minutes later. “It was a lot like
what Jagra said. But it wasn’t snow. It was the stone. It fragmented into
little bits and blew out of the room.”

“I see,” Angus said through clenched teeth. Giorge’s voice
grated against his nerves like—like army ants driving spikes into his back.
“Did you see how it happened?”

“Not really,” Giorge admitted.

“Why not?” Angus asked, his anger threatening to break free.
“You were there,” he said, his voice low, desperately even.

Giorge shrugged. “I was hiding,” he said. “When I looked in
and saw you with that wand pointed at me….” He shook his head. “I don’t want to
see you look at me like that again.”

“Then don’t try to steal from me anymore,” Angus bellowed,
his fury barely restrained. “I
told you
not to intrude when I was in
that room. I told
all of you
not to do it.”

“But—”

“Now you know why!” Angus shouted, feeling his shoulders
tense. “When a wizard studies magic, when he is testing things like—” he
slipped the wand easily into his hand with a slight flexing of his left forearm
and a tweak of the wrist and pointed it at Giorge. “It is
dangerous
. A
mistake, no matter how slight it may be, can have deadly consequences. If I
hadn’t redirected the energy of this wand away from you,
you
would have
been disintegrated, not the wall!”
That’s what it does!
Angus thought,
excitedly.
It disintegrates things!

Giorge scrunched up in his saddle, trying to avoid Angus’s
eyes, Angus’s fury, Angus’s
wand
. He looked at his horse’s head, and
said nothing.

“Angus,” Hobart said. “He didn’t realize—”

“No!” Angus shouted as he turned on him, the wand waving
about recklessly. “He didn’t
think
. All he wanted was an opportunity to
steal from me. He’s been trying to do that ever since I met him, and he hasn’t
learned his lesson yet, has he? If I turn my back on him, he’ll put those
twitchy little fingers of his into my pouch and take everything that he could
get. He probably already has,” Angus said, taking his backpack off and ripping
open the flap. “I haven’t even had a chance to find out what’s missing,” he
fumed, rummaging through the scrolls and counting them.

“They’re all there,” Giorge mumbled. “I wasn’t there to
steal from you.”

“Really?” Angus scowled, relishing how it felt to finally
release the pent-up anger flowing through him. “Why did you pick the lock on my
door, then?” he demanded.

Giorge continued to stare at his horse’s head as he
repeated, his voice low, tight. “I wasn’t there to steal from you. I needed to
talk to you. I had found a buyer for those coins, and I wanted to give you your
share. When you didn’t answer, I assumed you were gone.”

“And my presumed absence gave you the right to enter my
room?” Angus demanded. “It didn’t occur to you that I might not
want
to
be interrupted?”

Giorge toyed with Millie’s mane, gently wrapping it around
his finger over and over again. “No,” he said. “I didn’t think that. I was too
excited.”

“Excited?” Angus glowered. “Why? Because you thought you
could finally rummage through my things? So you could pick and choose what to
take later?”

“Angus,” Hobart said, his voice almost as tight as the grip
on his saddle horn. “He is part of this banner and so are you. We do not steal
from each other. We help each other when needed, and that is what Giorge did.”

“Help?” Angus scoffed, laughing bitterly. “By getting me
thrown into the dungeon? How is that helpful?”

“Not that,” Hobart admitted. “But he did save your life.”

“What?”

“And most of your treasure,” Hobart continued.

“Oh really,” Angus retorted. “And just how did he do that?”

“Angus,” Giorge said, his voice soft, urgent. “I know I made
a mistake, but I assure you I meant you no ill will.”

Angus was breathing heavily—
It is important.
—and
gripping the reins so tight in his right hand that he couldn’t have cast a spell
if he wanted to—and he desperately wanted to. But the wand…. “All right then,”
he said, his tone sharp, barely restrained as he lowered the wand and rested it
against his thigh. His jaw muscles ached as he asked, “Fine! Why don’t you
explain it to me?”