The Plague Knight and Other Stories Read online

  I induced several other people to head backstage. Eventually, others noticed them going, and followed.

  Which soon threatened to create a second crush, at the rear-stage doors. I sprang onto the platform and dashed back there to manage the flow of traffic as best I could, with pleas when possible and my hands when necessary.

  By now the air was gray with smoke. I kept coughing. The Heavens--the machine room above me, •the underside of which was painted to resemble the sky--started burning. Sparks and scraps of flaming debris rained down.

  At last the stage was clear. My handkerchief pressed to my face, I scurried toward the exit. The ceiling burst.

  A windlass, used to lower the actors portraying gods and their regalia, plummeted through the breach and struck where I’d just been standing. The impact shattered the floorboards.

  When I escaped the playhouse, I trotted some distance away, not only to make sure that I was out of danger but to better survey the overall situation. Turning, I noticed something strange.

  Fortunately, the Azure Swan stood on a spit of land that stuck out into the river. It wasn't close to any other structure. For a while, the flames enveloping the building swayed this way and that, as if groping for some other edifice they could spread to. At times they appeared to move against the breeze.

  Sometime later, those of us who had sought to defend the theater regrouped in a private room in a nearby tavern. This council of war included several blades of the Snow Lynx political faction, which vied with the Gray Steels, Crimson Orchids, Sons of the Comet, and most bitterly with the Green Peregrines for control of Balathex, an equal number of their retainers, Draydech the sorcerer, and myself. And a singed, grimy, malodorous, and surly lot we were, too. Also present was Lady Elthea, widow of a middling prominent Snow Lynx leader, owner of the three businesses that had thus far burned, and my employer. Though elderly and infirm, she'd insisted on venturing forth from her mansion to view the site of the latest disaster.

  "All right," I said, "we searched the Swan beforehand, without finding any incendiary devices. Did anyone see a figure on the roof? Or any flaming missiles?" The other men shook their heads. "Then it's magic kindling these fires, Lady Elthea. That's the only logical explanation." I looked at Draydech. "Do you concur?"

  The warlock was a short fellow in his late thirties, younger than I, though with his wobbling paunch, graying goatee, and the broken veins in his bulbous nose, he looked older. He'd served his apprenticeship living rough with the nomadic Walking Oak wizards of the deep forests. Afterwards, he'd embraced the amenities of civilization with a vengeance. I'd never seen him eat a raw piece of fruit or vegetable, drink water, or go out in inclement weather. Nevertheless, he'd lost none of the skills he'd mastered in the wilderness. He was particularly adept at sniffing out mystical energies, and despite his exorbitant fees and extortionate habits, I retained him whenever that kind of witchy bloodhound work seemed likely to be in order.

  Now, however, raising his eyes from the chunk of amber he'd been staring into while the rest of us glumly guzzled our wine, he said, "Certainly it's magic. Judging from the appearance of the conflagration, someone's conjured a salamander, a being from the Elemental Plane of Fire, to do the job. But I can't find it."

  I scowled. "Old friend. This is not the time to angle for more gold."

  Lady Elthea extended her trembling hand. Her skin was like parchment, her knuckles, swollen with arthritis. "Sorcerer, I beseech you. Some of our fellow citizens died tonight. More could perish tomorrow. If you can help prevent this, don't hold back."

  Jarnac, one of the Snow Lynx blades, rose from the trestle table. "I'll take care of it, Lady Elthea," he said. He was a lanky, sandy-haired youth, dressed lavishly but not tastefully in a sapphire- and ruby-studded parti-colored doublet with intricately carved ivory buttons. At his side hung the latest rage, one of the new smallswords, this one sporting a golden hilt. Smallswords looked elegant, and were adequate for fighting another gentleman similarly equipped. But they were apt to prove too flimsy against a heavier weapon or an armored foe, which was why I was still lugging my broadsword around.

  As might have been inferred from Jarnac's ostentation, he was New Money, with a parvenu's eagerness to parade his wealth and sense of style; unlike most of his cronies in the room, he couldn't claim kinship with one of the Ancient Kindreds. Not that that mattered to me. My birth was considerably humbler than his.

  He dropped a fat purse on the table. Coin clinked. "Take it, magician," he urged. "And rest assured, there's plenty more where that came from."

  Draydech gazed longingly at the money. I fancy he came close to licking his lips. But at last he shook his head and said, "I can't take it, sir, because I'm not sure I can earn it. Despite Master Selden's slander"--he shot me a reproachful glance, which, given our shared history, failed to inspire any remorse--"I wasn't trying to inflate my price. Rather, I was attempting to explain that something odd has happened.

  "We all should have seen the salamander. They're not invisible, quite the contrary. Even if its summoner veiled it in a glamour, I should still have spotted it. But I didn't.

  "What's more, I've been sitting here scrying, and I can't pick up its trail. Apparently someone's developed cunning new type of cloaking spell."

  Sensing that he was telling the truth, I said, "And until you work out how to pierce the charm, you can't banish the spook, or guide us to its master either. Is that about the gist of it?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  I sighed. "What more can you tell us about salamanders?"

  "A sorcerer enlists the aid of an elemental by opening a gate to its home plane, than bartering for its services. It was probably fairly easy to recruit a salamander to start fires. They love to do it anyway. The trick will be to make sure it only burns what the summoner wants it to."

  Fire is a deadly threat to any town and, remembering how the theater blaze had flowed against the wind, the beginnings of a headache tightening my brow, I wondered how our problem could get any worse. The answer was immediately forthcoming.

  Pivor, Lady Elthea's grandnephew and closest living kin, sprang up from his bench. He did belong to an Ancient Kindred, and no mistaking it. He had the kind of exquisite features and supercilious carriage that only generations of controlled inbreeding can produce. “Enough of this prattle,” he said. "The mage has already admitted he can't aid us, so we'll have to help ourselves. We know who to blame for our troubles: the Green Peregrines." The company murmured agreement. They'd all seen the unsigned threat, written in emerald ink, that someone had tacked to Lady Elthea's door the night before the first fire. "So I say we strike back at them at once."

  "No," Lady Elthea said. "I don't want--"

  Pivor ignored her. "A lot of them drink at The Honeycomb. We can lie in wait in the alley that runs--"

  "That's a bad idea, I said. "My gut tells me that not all the Peregrines are involved in this. We need to identify the ones who are. Indiscriminate slaughter would only compound our difficulties."

  "If we kill enough of them, the ones who remain will be afraid to send the spirit out again."

  "No, they won't," I said. "They'll merely seek to butcher you in turn."

  Pivor's lip curled. "I heard that when you founded your fencing academy, you swore your days as a mercenary were over."

  "You heard correctly," I said. "Twenty-five years of soldiering was enough. Unfortunately, I have a penchant for losing horses and needy friends. When the combination depletes my coffers, I accept commissions of a certain sort. Pray tell, why are we discussing this?"

  "I was just conjecturing that you gave up the mercenary life because you've turned coward. For truly, you seem afraid to fight."

  No doubt he said it to shame me into supporting his strategy. But of course there was only one proper response to such an insult, and that wasn’t it. Simply because Jarnac was near me, I turned to him. "Sir. Would you do me the honor of acting as my second?"

  One of Pivor's friends sa
id, "That figures. One baseborn fellow looks to the other."

  Jarnac colored. "It would be better if you asked someone else, Master Selden, because I agree with Pivor. Not in his assessment of your character," he added hastily, “but about what’s best to do. We shouldn’t waste time trying to ferret out one man from the mass of our foes. We should wage war on them all."

  Balin, one of my more promising students, said, "I'll stand for you, Master Selden."

  "Thank you," I said. I gave Pivor my best killer's glare. "Then perhaps we can arrange this straightaway."

  I'll give him credit, I couldn't stare him down, but he grew pale, no doubt in belated remembrance of my reputation. "Verrano, will you act for me?" he stammered.

  "Stop this!" Lady Elthea said. "Didn't you all come here for the same purpose? To succor a poor old woman who needs your help desperately? Then I beg you, please, don't fight among yourselves!"

  This time, Pivor chose to heed her. "You're right, of course. Moreover, this is your affair, and if you think this man should be in charge, so be it." He bowed to me. "Master Selden, for my grandaunt's sake, I apologize."

  I bowed back. "And for her sake, I accept."

  "If we aren't going to massacre the Peregrines, what are we going to do?" Draydech asked.

  "The gentlemen of the Lynxes will keep guarding my lady’s properties,” I said. "Perhaps one of them will spot our human foe, lurking about the scene. You'll try to devise a magic that will locate the salamander. I'll nose around and see what I can uncover through more mundane channels. And by working together, we'll put an end to this outrage." I wished I were as confident as I was trying to sound.

  I contrived to approach the house from the rear, then hid behind the stable. After a while, a maid trudged out the back door and started tossing feed to the chickens. The birds were plump and lively; she, thin and lethargic. Their feathers shone white in the morning sunlight, while her gown was drab and threadbare. In short, they looked better cared for than she was.

  Which was more or less what I'd expected. Her employer was famous for the sumptuous banquets he gave for his fellow Green Peregrines, but, provided one talked to the poor as well as the prosperous, equally notorious for his miserly treatment of his servants.

  I checked the windows of the four-story dwelling, making sure no one was peering out, then stepped from concealment. "Hello," I said.

  The girl jumped. "Who are you?"

  "A friend." I showed her the silver coin in my hand. "With a proposition."

  She looked yearningly at the money, reminding me fleetingly of Draydech. But then she scowled and said, "I'm not that kind."

  "You mistake me," I said. "I just want to ask you some questions, about things you may have noticed or overheard. Though I must admit, there's a chance that something you say could embarrass your master. So I'll understand if you decline."

  She glanced over her shoulder at the house, then snatched the coin. "What do you want to know?"

  The racket in The Honeycomb was deafening. The tavern was packed, most of the patrons were roaring drunk, and two lunatics were playing bagpipes. We lads at the corner table had to bellow with the rest to make ourselves heard.

  "And that was that," said one of my companions, a burly hire-sword with a forked beard, a broken nose, and a Green Peregrine favor pinned to the sheepskin collar of his jacket. "When they saw that, armed only with a soup ladle, I'd killed eight of their band •in half as many seconds, the rest of the bastards turned tail."

  "Amazing," I said. I was trying to sound admiring, and truly, I was impressed by his powers of invention. I stroked my false whiskers the way I always do when I wear them, to make sure they aren't falling off. "Of course, if what we hear in the City of Silks is true, it's no wonder you men of Balathex are master warriors. Folk say you keep in constant practice fighting one another. For instance, you Peregrines are at odds with the Leopards, isn't that so?"

  "The Snow Lynxes," someone corrected.

  "Pardon me, the Snow Lynxes. What's that all about, anyway? And who's winning?"

  Smiling slyly, the fellow with the broken nose said, "I'm afraid that's a very long story. And my throat's already parched."

  Taking the hint, I waved for the barkeep to bring another jug.

  Lithe and lightning-quick, Marissa flowed through the gloomy practice hall, a dagger flashing in either hand and her short black hair flying about her head. When she finished the exercise, I said, "Your high guard is a hair too high."

  "Says you," she replied. If she'd kept to her usual schedule, she'd been practicing hard for an hour, but she wasn't even slightly winded. "Good evening, Selden. Stop by to sign up for some lessons?"

  "Who could afford your rates?" I said, sauntering from the doorway into the hall. "Well, perhaps I could if I could stay away from the hippodrome, but that's by the by. I need information about the Green Peregrines."

  She shrugged. "I don't belong to any faction, any more than you do."

  "But most of the Peregrines who study swordplay do so under you, just as the majority of the Snow Lynxes train with me. I know you hear things."

  "Suppose I do. Why would I betray my students' confidences to the likes of you?"

  "To prevent a full-scale blood-feud. To keep the city from burning down. Either one would be bad for trade."

  She smiled crookedly. "Why not say, to keep the sun from turning to dung while you're at it? You'll have to do better than prophecies of doom."

  I put my hand on my purse. "How much do you want?"

  "At present, I don't need money. It's been a good year. But is it true that you learned sword-and-cape fighting up north?"

  I winced. A fencing master needs to hold onto a few martial secrets if he hopes to shine among his rivals. "You're a bloodsucking bitch, Marissa. You know that, don't you?" I unfastened my cloak. "All right, grab a wrap and a longer blade, and I'll give you a lesson."

  And so it went. As myself or in disguise, I roamed the city, gossiping, flattering, cajoling, bribing, and occasionally threatening. Questing for information. Coming up empty. Meanwhile, Lady Elthea lost a lumberyard and a warehouse full of bolts of linen. The latter fire spread to a pair of tenements belonging to an inoffensive gentleman of the insignificant Gray Steels. Another thirteen people died.

  Finally, reluctantly, I went to my employer's home to describe my lack of progress.

  This time the council of war convened in Lady Elthea's bedchamber, a high-ceilinged dimly lit room hung with somber tapestries. Though clean, it smelled of her long illness. She lay in a canopy bed, her shoulders propped by a mound of pillows. She seemed even gaunter and frailer than the last time I'd seen her, as if some of her strength had burned along with her properties. Jarnac sat on a stool beside her, holding her hand. He looked haggard, too. Evidently the nights of futile, sleepless sentinel duty were wearing him down.

  “All I'm certain of," I said, concluding my dismal excuse for a report, "is that there's no grand conspiracy among the Green Peregrines. When they discuss striking at you Snow Lynxes, they talk about maneuvers in Council, sharp business practice, and the occasional duel, not magic and arson. Indeed, most of them would never even consider a tactic that could endanger the entire town. More than ever, I’m convinced that we're up against one man, acting without the knowledge of his fellows. Unfortunately, I still don't know who he is."

  "And I still can't find the salamander," Draydech said morosely. "It ought to light up the psychic landscape like a bonfire. Even if they're sending it back to its own plane after every chore--and that's unlikely, given the amount of energy required--I should be able to sense the opening and closing of the gate. And yet …" He spread his pudgy hands.

  "Still, we're grateful to you gentlemen for your efforts," said Pivor with leaden sarcasm. He turned to his grandaunt. "Now can we try my plan? If we just keep bleeding Peregrines, we're bound to come to the fire-starter eventually."

  "No," said Lady Elthea with unexpected firmness. "I'd rather burn in t
his bed, if it comes to that, than send you into the streets to slaughter people at random."

  "But we can't bear to see you hurt any further," Jarnac told her.

  "No," Lady Elthea repeated. "I forbid it. There has to be a better way."

  "As a matter of fact," I said, "I'm not done yet. I began by making inquiries about the Green Peregrines rather than Balathex's community of sorcerers because the latter are proverbially closemouthed. But now it’s time to look at them. After all, one of them had to conjure the spook. The question is, which?"

  "Probably one of the Peregrine household mages," said Pivor impatiently. "Or if not, any one of a host of free lances."

  "No," said Draydech thoughtfully. "The sorcerers hereabouts aren't saints. In truth, a few are scoundrels. Still, we have an understanding. Certain tacit, self-imposed prohibitions. Now that I think about it, I don't believe that anyone I know would unleash a salamander inside the city walls."

  "Then our man is a clandestine practitioner," said I, my pulse ticking faster. "A rogue neither your fraternity nor the authorities would tolerate if they did know about him. We can conjecture that he generally sells his services to criminals. That he lives in a bad part of town. That he hasn't been here long, or you would at least have heard rumors of his presence."

  "You're about to propose another search, aren't you?" Jarnac said. "Well, I for one don't see the point. You've already turned the city upside down."

  "But this time, I'll have a clearer image of what I'm hunting," I said. "Trust me, that makes a difference."

  Lady Elthea said, "I believe Master Selden can find the wretch. Let's let him try."

  “Grandaunt,” Pivor said, "you have to understand. Devoted as we all are to your wishes and your welfare, this affair encompasses other issues. If an insult to you goes unavenged for any length of time, that reflects on the honor of all the Snow Lynxes. And if we can't find a specific culprit to punish, it's better to chastise all the Green Peregrines than do nothing. Selden can search if you want him to, but we're not going to wait on the result."