Aethersmith (Book 2) (28 page)

Why did you have to choose
now
to show signs of
competence?

Anzik had always been bookish, if he was indeed much of
anything. He was often willfully ignorant of his surroundings, but had an
enviable amount of focus. He acted however he wished much of the time, not out
of unruliness, but rather obliviousness to the requests the world made of him.

All about Jinzan were Megrenn agents of import, all as
haggard as he. They had run themselves to exhaustion chasing the elusive Fehr
child. Normally a runaway would be no match for the forces the High Council
could bring to bear, but few young boys possessed such innate gifts with aether
as Anzik, nor did they carry a staff meant to swing the pendulum of power
between the Megrenn Alliance and the Kadrin Empire. The boy was simply proving
himself to be too clever to be trapped, and too well armed to be confronted.

If I send more men after him, Anzik will be found but
Anzik will kill them. If I wait for him to return, the war will not be so kind
as to wait for me. I began it. I must fight it. I also cannot allow the boy
free rein to kill at will in the alleys and stables of Zorren while I wage war.

Jinzan closed his eyes and rested his forehead in the palm
of his hand.
I must find a way inside that twisted little mind of Anzik’s
and find a way to bring him home.

Jinzan was glad to have shielded his eyes with his gesture,
as tears began to well in their corners. “Leave me some respite. I must think,”
he managed to order without his voice breaking. He heard the shuffling of feet
and mutters of obeisance as his subordinates left him to his solitude.
Silently, he began to weep.

… but I do not know my own son well enough.

* * * * * * * *

Small splashes played around two pairs of boots, echoing in
the dim light of the Zorren sewers. The conduit was arched and only man-height
at the center, where a channel was cut down the middle to carry a flow of
water. Small walkways ran along the sides, but due to the curvature of the
masonry, a full-grown man could not walk upright along the sides.

“Cleanest sewer I ever saw,” Tod commented. “Ain’t even no
rat dung or stains.”

“Folk don’t live hereabouts is why,” Jodoul replied. “I’m
sure’n it’s an arse-brown mess in the districts. This all is just runoff from
the rains and such. Prob’ly be dry in a couple-few days if’n there ain’t
another rain. I’ll be hunkerin’ over on the sides if’n we get to some such as
that.”

“Aww, you gone soft on me? I mucked Naran Port’s sewers
durin’ a Founding Day festival once—twice the folk in the city as ya see most
days. The water was like pudding and—”

“Yeah, yeah, stuff it. I don’t need to hear nothin’ ’bout
what we’re lucky we ain’t stompin’ about in,” Jodoul said.

He held up a hand suddenly and both men stopped. There was
banter aplenty during a long, boring assignment, but both had the good sense to
go silent when either got the slightest hint of trouble. The light that came
down from the occasional grating to the streets above was just enough to see
such gestures by.

“I hear someone up ahead,” Jodoul whispered, leaning close
to Tod’s ear. Tod nodded. They heard, faintly but growing steadily louder, a
rhythmic clacking. It sounded like wood against stone.

No bodies had been found, but Tod and Jodoul had found that
the sneaks and drifters of Zorren had become wary of the sewers of late. The
trail of bodies around the city had spooked them and more good sense than real information
had given them cause to suspect the tunnels below the city. They assumed anyone
who had evaded detection for so long must have been making some use of them.
The clacking sound was both promising and ominous.

“We should run,” Tod said softly, taking Jodoul by the arm.
“That kid’s a killer. Let’s get to Faolen, make it his problem.” Tod gave a
tug, but Jodoul resisted, shrugging free of Tod’s half-hearted grasp.

“Naw, kids ain’t no killers, even if’n they kill. This one’s
a runaway. Ain’t you never run away when you was a lad?” Jodoul replied, a plan
slowly coming together in his mind.

“Yeah, but I never had me one o’ them kill-staffs, neither.
Might’a settled some scores right quick if’n I had.”

“Runaways need friends,” Jodoul reasoned, staring down into
the darkness of the passageway where the clacking sound was growing clearer.

“Live friends is good,” Tod replied. “You make a friend.
I’ll be off and get Faolen. Best o’ luck, Jo.” Tod made a careful motion to
extract his feet quietly from the water, then darted softly down the walkway,
crouched at the waist.

Jodoul swore under his breath but held his ground. He was a
gambler. He was also a coward. There were times, though, when a pot is so large
that even a coward’s eyes become clouded.
If’n I get that staff back for
Warlock Rashan, I’ll be rich as I want to be. I’ll have whatever I ask, I know
it.

“Hey boy!” Jodoul shouted in a whisper when he began to hear
soft footsteps of leather shoes mixed in with the tapping of wood against the
walls of the sewer. “You need some help?”

“Who are you?” the voice was high-pitched, as Jodoul would
have expected of a lad too young to shave. It was not a fearful voice but a
curious one. It made no pretense of avoiding the notice of those who might have
heard through the sewer gratings.

“A friend. My name is Jo,” Jodoul replied, not raising his
voice but ceasing to whisper.

As the boy continued to approach, he passed beneath one of
the gratings, where Jodoul got a good look at him. He was a ragged, dirty
thing, dressed in ruined finery. A skinny lad at his best, he looked hungry
atop it. He was short enough to walk the sides of the sewers comfortably, but
the staff he carried was too tall to hold upright. He had allowed it to bang
carelessly against the wall in time with his gait.

“My name is Anzik. You do not work for my father, do you?”
Anzik asked. The question sounded innocent the way he asked it, but Jodoul
suspected that being a known associate of Jinzan Fehr right then might be an
invitation to a restless death.

“Naw. I’m not from around here. I ran away too, like you,”
Jodoul responded. Tod might have been the better of the two of them at
confidence schemes, but Jodoul had run away more times than he could count when
he was a boy.

The boy looked at him strangely, cocking his head to one
side. He had stopped approaching. “You do not want to catch me, take me back to
my father?” he asked.

“’Course not. What you need is a place where you—” Jodoul
began, but stopped when the boy suddenly dropped the staff with a clatter and
clutched the sides of his head.

“Not now! Stop it! Be quiet!” Anzik shouted, squeezing his
eyes shut and shaking his head. He covered his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Jodoul babbled, thinking Anzik’s
commands were meant for him.

“I don’t want a bath! Leave my shirt alone!” the boy ranted.

“I won’t make you take a bath. I swear,” Jodoul promised,
his heart racing. He looked to the staff on the ground and wondered if he stood
a chance to get to it before the boy could recover his senses and retrieve it.

“Not you! The voices.” Anzik looked up at Jodoul from his
hands and knees.

The boy’s mad as monkeys! No wonder no one’s caught him
yet. Prob’ly been killin’ voices in his head and catching up real folk instead.
Aww, arse me, Tod had the right of it, runnin’ like a little maid.

Anzik picked up the staff and stood, not bothering to brush
the grime from his pants or hands. “What kind of place do you know?” Anzik
picked up their conversation where he had interrupted Jodoul.

Jodoul’s thoughts spun circles.
Maybe I can wait for
another fit to come on him and run for it. Maybe if I just run now, he won’t do
nothin’ to me. Maybe I can still reason with him despite those voices … he …
hears.

“Hey there, Anzik,” Jodoul ventured. “I think I know someone
who could help with those voices you hear. A smart fella who won’t give you to
your pa.”

* * * * * * * *

Faolen’s daytime tour of Zorren’s brothels had been
enlightening, but not in any way that would help with the search for the lost
Fehr boy or the Staff of Gehlen. The night ladies were as frightened of the lad
as anyone in the city, and none admitted to having seen him, even when asked by
one who appeared in the guise of a Megrenn officer, as Faolen had. He had
learned, however, that he was unlikely to spend any coin at the establishments
he had visited. He remembered the women he had seen … and shuddered.

It was near to dusk when he arrived back at Marod’s Goods,
having taken a small meal at a street vendor. The streets had been growing
quieter the past several days, Faolen had noted. The monstrous child on the
loose had scared the common folk enough that many had locked themselves indoors
at night, and kept clustered in groups in the daylight. No one had yet been
killed openly in public, but that did not comfort those who needed to travel to
and fro along lightly traveled streets.

Faolen paused before entering their shop-front hideout. As
his eyes adjusted to the aether, he scanned the inside of the building to see
who was within. He carefully navigated one of the alleys aside the building to
look into the back room, as his vision was not strong enough to view the whole
of the interior from out front.

Just Aelon and Tod, by the look of it. I hope nothing has
befallen Jodoul.

“Welcome back,” Aelon greeted him at the door as he entered.
“Go and talk to Tod. He has news for you, and has been plucking his head bald
waiting for you to return.”

Faolen misliked the way that sounded. Aelon was nervous, but
he preferred to hear whatever news from Tod directly. Aelon followed him into
the back room.

He entered the back room cautiously, and was ambushed by
Tod. “We found ’im! He was in the sewers. Jo and I went down, see, and we heard
him. Then I says ‘We should go tell Faolen,’ and Jo says ‘Naw, I got an idea,’
and I says ‘Best o’ luck, I’m fer gettin’ to Faolen,’ and so’s I did.”

Faolen pulled up short as Tod had rushed up to him, and
stood within breath-smelling distance of him. There was no scent of drink upon
him, but Tod did smell vaguely of sewage, though a quick inspection did not
show him to have been dunked in the stuff.

“Where is he?” Faolen asked simply.

“Over by the center o’ town, where the arse-brown don’t flow
much. Kid prob’ly had the sense to stay to the nicer parts so’s he didn’t give
his self away with the stink.”

“Where is
Jodoul
?” Faolen emphasized. Information
about the boy was well and good, but he only had so many accomplices with whom
to catch him.

“Last I saw, he was plannin’ to talk to the kid.” Tod
shrugged, his gaze wandering to the floor. “Prob’ly dead. I warned him we
weren’t the ones to stop him; you was. He thought he knew better.”

“I did.”

They all turned as Jodoul entered from the front.

“Boy’s gonna be headin’ here soon as it’s dark,” Jodoul
said, “so we best be ready for ’im.”

“How’d ya manage that piece o’ magic?” Tod asked,
incredulous, slapping Jodoul on the shoulder in congratulations—and
chastisement for making him think Jodoul had died a vain death by the dangerous
child.

“Kid needed someone to trust. I think I was the first one he
ran into what wasn’t mad at ’im or tryin’ to catch ’im,” Jodoul said. “Kid’s
also got a noggin more twisted ’n’ a ship’s riggin’. Got’s ’im some voices in
’is head, buggin’ ’im like no one’s business. I says I know a fella who can
help.” Jodoul smiled at Faolen.

Strong in magic. Voices in his head. Oh, Jodoul, you have
no idea how right you were.
Faolen smiled in return.

“Let us prepare for him, then.”

* * * * * * * *

The little shop had a back door. For a legitimate business,
it might have been used for taking deliveries, and the comings and goings of
the staff. Faolen and his companions had barred it so that visitors could only
enter through the front, leaving it as an escape route only. As Faolen and
Jodoul sat waiting, the bar was now leaning against the wall and the door stood
open just a crack.

“Remember, leave us as soon as you have made your
introduction. I want you and Tod covering the two exits. If you hear anything
befall in here that makes you believe me dead, shoot him as he exits. There is
some risk that he might have a shielding spell, and kill you, but if I am dead,
it may be your only chance at the staff. If he exits but nothing has gone wrong
in here, leave him be. It may take time to win his trust,” Faolen said, going
over the plan aloud with Jodoul for roughly the fifth time.

Jodoul nodded, then cocked his head as if realizing
something. “Hey, what if he don’t make lots o’ noise killin’ ya? How am I
s’posed to know if’n yer dead then?”

Faolen furrowed his brow. It was not a pleasant prospect, to
say the least, but Jodoul had the right of it. If the boy was killing merely
with the draw of the staff, two unschooled ruffians like Tod and Jodoul would
likely not feel the disturbance in the aether as even a modest sorcerer would.
Faolen stood, and began rummaging through the crates left lying about the back
room of the establishment. He found a crystal decanter, and hefted it in his
hands, liking the feel of it. He found some twine as well.

Faolen set the decanter on the edge of the table, and tied
the twine through the looping handle it bore. The other end he looped around
his wrist with a short length in between. “There. If I fall to the floor, the
decanter will as well, hopefully shattering loudly enough to wake you and Tod
from your slumbers outside,” Faolen joked, preferring to jest over his
potential death rather than consider it seriously.

“Yeah, that oughtta do it.” Jodoul nodded. The two proceeded
to wait in nervous silence for the killer child to arrive, if indeed he
actually intended to arrive at all.