DF253 - Rough Ole Life (Aris) (Patreon)

Aris had always known that the White Selkie, the inn she’d grown up with in Kirido, had been nothing special. Compared to the Copper Stag, it lacked… everything. The inn that Zaphar led them to was a severe downgrade from the White Selkie. The comforts and luxury on display in even the common area of the Copper Stag were now only a distant memory.

The man behind the bar didn’t say anything when Zaphar slapped down a handful of coppers. He just grunted and handed the rogue a wooden token with a number on it. His silence might have been a way of protecting their privacy. The room was so small that every unwashed drinking brigand in the place could hear every word spoken.

In most inns, a murmur of different conversations would lend a measure of anonymity. Here, the whole room had fallen silent the moment they’d stepped in the door. And every single one of them was watching Aris out of the corner of their eyes.

Zaphar grunted back and led Aris up the rickety staircase. They went up two floors before he found the number he was looking for. It swung half ajar, and he pushed it all the way open, looking all around the room before stepping inside. It didn’t take long.

“This is where we’re staying?” Aris asked.

Zaphar glanced at the single bed and shrugged. “This sort of place, you want someone on watch while you sleep. We might stay here, but it will be a good place to plan our next move.”

He barred the door—it didn’t have a lock—and then jammed a knife into the wood, locking the bar in place.

“So why—” Aris started, before Zaphar held up his hand. He rummaged in his pack and drew out a small case. From that, he withdrew a small bone sphere and tossed it on the floor.

The sound of a dozen conversations sprang up around them. None of them were saying anything, but it made for quite a racket.

“Alchemical tool,” Zaphar said. “Not one that gets much use in dungeons.”

“It’s… to prevent us from being overheard?” Aris asked. “I don’t think it would work on me.”

“Or me,” Zaphar agreed. “But it should be enough to prevent any two-bit thief who happens to be nearby from listening in.”

“Alright,” Aris accepted. “Then, why did you say we were going to be accused of the blacksmith’s murder?”

“We talked to the server in the inn,” Zaphar said. “Expressed dismay at what Master Vey was going to do to his wife. Right now, she thinks little of it.”

“Right…”

“But then, maybe tomorrow, her coworker comes in and says that her husband has been murdered, along with his apprentice. Then she will remember.”

“Oh… that sounds bad. And lots of others saw the argument we had with him.”

“Indeed. And we are hardly in a position to answer questions from the guard.”

“Which makes us look more guilty.” Aris frowned. “This isn’t good.”

“This is what my life is like now,” Zaphar complained. “A series of unlikely occurrences. And always with a woman at the centre.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” Aris protested.

“I meant the wife,” Zaphar explained. “Slipping when she did set the whole chain in motion.”

Aris thought about it. “I suppose that’s true. Did your patron cause her to slip?”

“Perhaps,” Zaphar sighed. “Or perhaps he knew she would slip and arranged for me to be there to catch her. I do not know how he works.”

“So what do we do?” Aris asked. “We can’t let a magical assassination go ahead.”

“Particularly not this one,” Zaphar agreed. “Do you think you killed him?”

“I don’t think so,” Aris said. “I did feel some experience, but not as much as I’d expect for killing… a Tier Three? A wizard would have to be that at least, right?”

“I think so, yes. I know him—he does enchanting work for the Assassins’ Guild. His name is Varesh. I think Calis called him Magister Varesh. His workshop is located in this quarter of the city.”

“Here? Isn’t this…”

“The worst quarter of the city, yes. His relationship with the Guild is… I don’t know, to tell you the truth. Calis speculated that he was placed here as a deniable line of communications to the assassins—but there were also rumours that he was expelled by the Guild.”

“So we could find him…” Aris said.

“Yes, but his workshop is protected by magic,” Zaphar cautioned. “I got in before, but he may well have taken steps to protect against the trick I used.”

“Protected how, exactly?”

Zaphar shrugged again. “Who knows? Alarms to give warning, certainly, and he had magical barriers before. Since it is his workshop, I doubt he’s rigged any deadly magical traps… they would damage his equipment.”

“Right…” Aris said slowly. There was something there, but she needed to think about it. “What about the other half of the puzzle? If we’re suspected of murder, who will come after us?”

“What do you mean? Are you worried the wife will attack us?”

“No, I mean… back in Kirido, if someone was murdered, the Baron would get involved. There was a town council for minor crimes, but for murder… His soldiers would arrest the criminal, and the Baron would judge him. I suppose it’s Anton’s job now.”

Aris paused, thinking that it was lucky there hadn’t been a murder in Kirido since Anton took over. She didn’t think he’d enjoy making decisions over people's lives.

Oh, wait, he has Suliel for that, she thought.

“Anyway,” she drawled, getting her thoughts back on track. “Is it the King that does that here?”

“No,” Zaphar answered. “Not for most crimes. There is a Guard, an organisation tasked with keeping the city orderly. They can investigate and arrest, but they often don’t.”

He thought about it some more. “Garran Vey seemed well off. An artisan of some importance in the city. I don’t know how eager his wife will be to find his killer, but I think the Guard will hire a Thief-taker.”

“We’re not thieves, though,” Aris pointed out.

“That’s just what they're called. They have a few different Classes, I think. What they have in common is that they can find people.”

“Different ways. Some of them—the ones I was worried about—can track, even in the city. But I don’t think they can track through the air, which was why I had us fly away.”

“I see… what else can they do?”

“Locate a person by knowing their name? Or hunt someone down using a personal possession? Those were rumours I heard, but they don’t have our names or anything of ours.”

“We didn’t even go into the smithy,” Aris noted. “Does that mean the Thief-takers will go after Varesh? He might have left some blood behind.”

“Maybe,” Zaphar allowed. “But I’d wager a wizard has a way of blocking such traits.”

“Annoying. But he might not be in a position to do so,” Aris pointed out. “If he’s injured.”

“Maybe. But remember that some wizards can cast healing spells. Actually, no. We should assume that even if he can’t, he knows a wizard that can heal him.”

“How annoying,” Aris commented. “But we can’t just let him go, not if he’s planning on killing Anton. After sunset is the best time for clandestine activities, right?”

“I suppose so. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, first, we need to find a better place to stay tonight. Second, we should pay this workshop a visit.”

*

They also bought a dark cloak for Aris. Zaphar’s magical cloak hid his identity well enough, but she needed something to hide in if she was going to commit crimes.

Most of the houses in this district were narrow, tall, and pushed together. Varesh’s workshop was quite different. It was five stories high, jutting out over the two or three stories that were the norm here. There was also considerable space around it, a gap wider than any other building in the quarter.

“It isn’t walled off,” Aris wondered. “How does he keep them from building closer?”

“No one wants a wizard for a neighbour, particularly such a disreputable one,” Zaphar said. “Calis told me he expressed his displeasure at having to share his space with arson.”

“Aren’t the Guard supposed to stop things like that?”

“In this quarter, the Guard are more reluctant to act,” Zaphar said. “In this case, the cost of annoying a wizard must have exceeded the cost of his angry neighbours.”

“So they just had to accept it?”

“I hear that they tried to return the favour, but the tower is protected against flames.”

“That’s good to know. People, too, I bet.”

“Of course,” Zaphar agreed. “There were lots of stories of failed attempts at entry among the local thieves.”

Aris nodded and looked up at the tower. The first three floors were windowless, but the upper stories had heavy shutters covering wide openings in the tower wall.

“Do you think he’s home?” she asked.

“There’s no lights, and I’m not hearing anything, but he could have a privacy ward.”

“I suppose. Do you know how wards work?”

“Sure,” Zaphar replied. “There’s two types: spells and enchantments. Spells only last for a set time, a day or a month or something like that. Whereas enchantments are bound to an object and last as long as the object does. Not every wizard can do enchantments, but Varesh can.”

Aris nodded. “That’s good to know, but I meant something that Kelsey told me. Can you get us up on a roof again?”

She waited until they had set down on a three-story roof. It was steeply sloped, but neither of them had trouble with their balance.

“I didn’t think Elemental Shot was any good, but Kelsey convinced me to take it,” Aris said. “By explaining how wizard wards worked.”

“Oh?”

“A ward works by keeping one kind of thing out—or in, if you reverse it. You can’t keep everything out, just one thing. If you want to keep two things out, you need two spells.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

“And it’s a different type of spell for every different thing, so you can’t keep everything out. Wizards all have different spells they can cast, right?”

“Right. And there’s a cost to casting a spell. Either the effort of casting it every day, or the resources you need for an enchanted item.”

“Exactly. Varesh needed protection from people and fire. If he has a privacy ward, that’s sound and light, two more things. Did they try throwing nightsoil at the windows? My town would have.”

Zaphar laughed. “I don’t know, but probably.”

“That’s two more things, I think. It all starts to add up. So the thing about Elemental Shot is, it’s a whole lot of possible things.”

She drew her gun. “We know that fire won’t work. I don’t see water accomplishing much. But how about lightning?”

“Wait—hold on a minute!”

She fired. This time, the crack of her gun sounded more like crackling electricity. A bright, jagged line connected her gun to the shutters on the fourth floor.

They exploded into fragments, falling to the ground.

“What… was that supposed to accomplish?” Zaphar asked. “Actually, never mind, we need to get out of here.”

“One more shot, and then we can go,” Aris said. She fired again. This time the lightning went through the window, hitting something hidden in the darkness.

“Alright, let’s relocate and hide,” Aris commanded.

“Not run away?” Zaphar asked.

“I want to see if it worked,” Aris explained.

“See if what worked?”

“Lightning starts fires,” Aris said. “If he’s home, he’ll have to put it out, and we’ll know where he is. If he’s not home…”

She glared at the window, which was starting to show just a few flickers of firelight.

“If he’s not home, we’ll see if he can enchant a dagger with his workshop burned down.”