Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "wizard"

“Hey!” Someone poked Habbly in the back as he lay on top of a 50-pound sack of rice. Habbly grumbled and rolled over, pulling an empty grain sack over himself, but the unwelcome guest wasn’t giving up. “Hey, this is private property!”

“Then neither of use should be here,” Habbly mumbled. “You leave first and I’ll be right behind you.”

There was a pause before the man addressed Habbly again. “Nice try. Go find another place to sleep, because for the next four hour this warehouse is under my protection.”

Habbly sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing aside copious amount of dirty hair to reach his eyes. He studied his surroundings, slightly brighter than when he’d snuck in last night and even less impressive now that he could see it clearly. The warehouse contained sack after sack of rice, tons of the stuff. A few rats scurried about while a bored cat followed them, not sure whether it was interested in hunting. If you were looking for exciting places, this was as far away as you could go.

The young man with brown hair facing Habbly was equally unimpressive. He was in his late teens and wore gray and black clothes. Plain was the best way to describe his face, hair, height, weight, everything. He practically radiated blandness, averageness.

Then Habbly saw the youth’s staff. It was made of oak, stained and carved with strange symbols the goblin didn’t recognize. Long, narrow panels made of black marble were built into the staff so beautifully that they looked like the wood had grown around the marble. Maybe it had. That staff must have cost real money to make. Worse, it meant the kid was a wizard.

“Why is a wizard guarding rice?” Habbly asked.

“It’s a paying job, thank you very much, and temporary. So toddle on out of here and…wait, you’re a goblin. I thought those sacks you were laying on were you. Feeling kind of stupid now.”

Habbly yawned and stood up. He’d come here last night in the hope of finding a quiet place to sleep. If it was nice enough he would have spent days here in the silence and darkness. Goblins as a rule were well suited for living in shadowy places like this, but Habbly had another reason to take shelter in a grain warehouse. Warehouses were boring places where nothing happened, and Habbly was desperate for peace and quiet. The wizard would doubtless make sure he didn’t get it.

“I am a goblin. I didn’t eat your rice, although rats are chowing down on spilled grain. I’m not carrying money, weapons, gems, magic, artwork, knickknacks, horsehead bookends or anything else you might want.”

To Habbly’s shock, the wizard got down on his knees so he could look Habbly in the eyes. “I need a goblin. Please, can you help me?”

Habbly stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need a goblin to introduce me to William Bradshaw, the King of the Goblins, the War Winner. Please, it’s more important than you can imagine!”

William Bradshaw was a name Habbly knew even if he’d never met the man. Bradshaw was the latest human to be tricked into becoming King of the Goblins, and earned the moniker War Winner by leading his goblins into one fight after another. No one understood how he’d survived those fights, much less won them, but he had. The poor fool should have been killed long ago or at least been slapped silly. Instead he’d become a man both feared and despised. That made the wizard’s request all the more confusing.

“Um, why?”

The wizard took Habbly by the hand and led him outside. “We shouldn’t be in here. Come, we’ll talk outside.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Habbly protested. He would have rather stayed in the relative safety of the warehouse, but he was half the height of the wizard and nowhere near as strong. He was pulled outside to the streets of Nolod.

Nolod was a city blended with a sewer, a stinking metropolis of a million souls known for trade, manufacturing and indescribable filth. The tall brick buildings were stained black by smoke and pollution. Streets were paved with cobblestones, and then covered with a glaze of mud, sand, dung and trash ground up by people’s feet until it became a paste. Men of wealth bought clothes monthly not only to stay current with fashion but also to replace clothes ruined by the foul air. Countless men, dwarfs, elves, minotaurs, ogres and trolls traveled the streets and spoke so much and so loudly that it became a constant background roar.

A few men stopped when they saw the wizard come onto the streets with Habbly. The wizard waved them off, saying, “It’s under control.”

“Can we take this into an alley, or at least a doorway?” Habbly asked. It was broad daylight, or at least as bright as it got through the thick layer of smog. Goblins stayed out of the light to avoid bigger races. “I’d rather not be chased off the street.”

“No one’s going to bother you while I’m here. I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Kadid Lan, wizard of earth magics.”

“Charmed,” Habbly told him. “Earlier you sounded like you wanted me for something other than target practice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you!” Kadid exclaimed.

Habbly scratched his head, digging out a pile of dandruff in the process. Wizards were known for being powerful, grumpy, overconfident and preferring quiet to company. Kadid defied expectations. What could Habbly possibly do to help a wizard?

“Let me explain,” Kadid began. “I studied under Uoni Marthax, one of Nolod’s resident wizards. He’s powerful and respected, or at least feared enough that men give him a wide berth. Not long ago your King was fighting Quentin Peck, the richest man alive, and he came to my master for help. My master refused him. He said your King’s problems weren’t his and turned him away empty handed. King Bradshaw went on to defeat Peck, and when he did he revealed the horrors Peck had done to the world. Peck had created suffering like you wouldn’t believe across three continents.”

“I’d heard about him,” Habbly replied. The poor goblin had grown up in the living nightmare known as Battle Island and survived the war against the Fallen King. Suffering and fear were no strangers to him. But Quentin Peck was in a class all his own when it came to wreaking havoc. He’d pretended to be an honest businessman, all the while insidiously destroying the kingdoms he traded with. No one knew exactly what Bradshaw had done to Peck, but the richest man alive was gone and none mourned him.

“Afterwards I told my master that we should have helped your King. My master disagreed.” Kadid scowled, which would have looked intimidating on anyone except him. He just couldn’t look bland and scary at the same time.

“And that’s bad?” Habbly asked.

“It’s inexcusable! My master doesn’t want anyone angry at him, so he does nothing. He ignored Peck even when your King said what was happening, and my master is only too happy to ignore the next problem and the next after that.” Kadid looked down. “And I used to be just like him.”

Habbly rubbed his eyed. This was getting maudlin. “I’m not seeing where I come in.”

Kadid’s scowl was replaced with a pleading, sincere look. “I want to be more than what I was. I want to be the kind of person who makes the world better, like your King. I want to be a hero.”

Passing men snickered. Kadid raised his staff and shouted, “Angry wizard doesn’t like being laughed at!”

“Then angry wizard shouldn’t guard a warehouse,” a man retorted. “That’s poor man’s work.”

Kadid snarled before returning his attention to Habbly. “I left my master’s service after he called me a fool. Fool, maybe, but I’m no coward. I want to go to the King of the Goblins to apologize and offer my services. My old master was happy to let others win or lose. Your King fights for those in need, and I’d like to fight beside him.”

Habbly stared at Kadid and did his best not to look horrified. He wasn’t worried that Kadid would do something stupid like attack Bradshaw. The War Winner could take care of himself. But it was clear that Kadid was feeling heroic. Habbly had seen that plenty of times before, and it usually ended with the guy dead.

The wizard and goblin were drawing an audience as pedestrians stopped to watch. Most of them snickered at the wizard’s words. Nolod was known for riches and filth, a contradiction the city excelled at, but honor, courage, decency, these were foreign concepts. Seeing a man pledge himself to a distant king was laughable.

Not all men were so snide, their faces instead betraying fear and revulsion. Will Bradshaw had come to Nolod to face Quentin Peck, a man against a metropolis, and he’d won. The fighting had taken less than three weeks, yet the city hadn’t fully recovered from their battle. Half of Peck’s many businesses had closed forever and the rest been snapped up by opportunists, and many of Peck’s ships had been seized or stolen, reducing trade. If Kadid was willing to follow in Bradshaw’s footsteps then he was a threat to the city.

Habbly waved for Kadid to follow him into an alley running between warehouses. Once they had some degree of privacy, he said, “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“No, you’re an idiot among idiots. Wizard, you have no idea what you’re asking for. If you go this route then you’ll never know a second’s peace. Enemies will come after you day after day after day until you’ll dead. I’ve seen it happen to better men than you.”

“What?” Kadid struck a pose pointing a finger at Habbly. “You’re insulting your own King! He fights the good fight.”

“And nearly dies from it. How long can his luck hold out? Gamblers put his odds of living until year’s end at one in ten. You want to be like him, fight alongside him? You’ll go down with him.” Habbly put a hand over his face and shook his head before saying, “It’s just like Julius.”

Kadid’s outrage changes to surprise and then delight. “Julius Craton? You think I’m like him?”

“Yes.” Habbly looked at Kadid, the poor, bumbling fool. “I know him. He’s a friend of mine, sort of. I gave him the magic sword he uses these days.”

“That’s incredible! You’ve helped the greatest hero of our day!”

It was awe inspiring how blind Kadid was to reality. Maybe Habbly could get through to the wizard if he tried harder. “I met him, armed him, and I nearly watched him die. Julius is a man three steps ahead of death and losing ground fast. He fights one noble quest after another, usually alone or with too few helping him. He’s worn thin. Most men would have given up or died by now. He’s tough, so I figure he’ll last another eighteen months. After that he might get a funeral if someone can find his body, people will make nice speeches, and then they’ll look for their next hero.”

Kadid leaned his staff against the warehouse and threw his hands in the air. “Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to fix! Your King fought against impossible odds alone. Wizards, dragons, generals, knights, none of them helped! That happens all the time in Nolod and most of the world. No one is willing to risk their lives or reputations. They sit back and let someone else face the danger, and let the consequences be what they may. You need more men like me to help men like your King and Julius Craton. I want to be that man!”

Habbly gave Kadid a skeptical look. “You think you’re as strong as they are?”

Kadid looked down and rubbed the back of his head. “Um.”

“He’s not,” a passing woman said.

“It’s embarrassing,” said a dwarf.

“Ran for his life from a devil rat,” a man added.

“That happened once!” Kadid shouted. “Don’t laugh! You weren’t there! It was huge, with red eyes and sharp teeth, fifty pounds of hate! I got it in the end!”

“You’re guarding a warehouse,” Habbly pointed out. “That’s not exactly heroic, is it?”

Kadid looked down. “I need the money. The journey to your King is going to take weeks. That means money for food, road tolls, taxes, maybe bribes. This is one of the few honest jobs I could get.”

The wizard bent down to look Habbly in the eye. “You’re right. I’m no hero, not yet, but I could be. I could help men better than me, learn from them, and in time I’ll be as great. It’s a risk I’m glad to take if the alternative is living the life of a coward.”

“Living a life is better than dying for your dreams.” Habbly was getting a headache. This fool was so dead set on being a great man that he was going to end up just plain dead. What was it about humans that they were constantly ready to throw away their lives? Goblins weren’t this stupid!

“Let me explain it to you this way,” Habbly began. “I’ve seen more fights than I can count and been in too many. I’ve been in a war. Whatever you’ve heard about glory in battle is garbage. I came to Nolod to stow away on a ship going far away, somewhere there are no fights or at least less of them. I’ve had my fill of war and want no more of it. So when you come begging for the chance to run into battle, I’m letting you know as someone who’s been there that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Habbly saw men running in the street. He peered out and found a gang of men lazily walking toward the warehouse. There were eight of them dressed in leather and armed with daggers, clubs, gaff hooks and blackjacks. Young, strong, healthy, they were a threat and the street cleared as they approached.

“Trouble,” Habbly said.

“Evening, governor,” one of the gang said. “Seems to me we have a problem.”

Kadid should have run off. Instead he stepped out of the alley to meet them. “And what would that be?”

“The captain who rented this warehouse didn’t pay toll. You own a warehouse, you rent one, no difference, you pay the Warf Rats fifty guilders a month. We take it in cash or in cargo, but make no mistake, we take it.”

“My employer rented this warehouse for two nights and will have his goods shipped off tonight,” Kadid told the gang as they spread out in a half circle around him. “He’s already paid the fees Nolod requires. He’s not paying a guilder more, especially for protection money.”

“Ooh, strong words, governor, strong words,” the gang’s leader jeered. The others chuckled. “What’s he paying you? Can’t figure it’s enough to die for.”

Kadid gripped his staff and pointed it at the nearest gangster. “Your boss should have sent more men if he’s going to threaten a wizard.”

The leader drew a dagger and held it up to his face. He licked the flat of the blade and smiled. “An apprentice wizard for hire, hmm, let me think, does that intimidate me? You know what, no. Thought I felt something for a second there, but it was just gas.”

Habbly watched the two sides ready for battle. Kadid was outnumbered and by all accounts not that great of a wizard. The only smart thing to do would be back down, run or maybe get help. But he was sold on the dream of heroics, of being a big man, and it was going to get him killed.

And then Habbly saw it, a sight to disgust any sane, moral being. The streets had cleared around the fight, but only for twenty feet. Men, women, even children who’d been going about their business stopped to watch. Not one came to help Kadid, who might be an idiot, but was at least in the right. Some of them placed wagers on the fight, as if this was a sporting event. Habbly had seen the same thing on Battle Island and its gladiator pits. Men fought and died while crowds cheered, like it was fun.

It made him mad.

The gangsters moved in, Kadid began casting a spell, but Habbly got the first hit in. He grabbed a mop from a nearby washerwoman and swung it like a club, striking a gangster across the face. Two gangsters turned to face him while the other six went after Kadid. Habbly jabbed the mop handle in a man’s gut and then cracked it against his shins.

Kadid finished his spell. The layer of filth coating the ground slid across the street and gathered in front of the wizard in a glistening, stinking column six feet tall and two feet wide. There was the slightest pause before it sprayed at the gangsters and splattered against them, ruining their clothes and blinding them. The crowd cried out in disgust as a fair portion of that toxic stew hit them as well.

“You’re not getting one coin!” Kadid screamed. He swung his staff and struck the gang’s leader in the shoulder. Another swing hit the man in the ankles, tipping him over. “Not now, not ever! Do you hear me? Nothing!”

A gangster drew his dagger and threw it at Kadid. Habbly raised his mop in time to catch the dagger in the mop head. He pulled the dagger free and tripped the man with the mop handle.

Three gangsters cleaned enough filth from their eyes to get back in the fight. Kadid saw them coming and cast another spell. Cobblestones pulled free from the road and connected end to end, forming a long whip made of bricks. The whip swung at knee height, sending all three men screaming to the ground before the cobblestones went back into the street.

The gang leader staggered back to his feet. Kadid saw him and charged the man. The leader had just enough time to raise a club and block Kadid’s staff swing. Two more followed and broke the man’s club. The leader swung his dagger, but Habbly ran over and grabbed the man’s arm to make sure the blade never hit.

“Are you intimidated now?” Kadid yelled. He struck the leader hard enough to drop him to the ground. Another gangster tried to tackle the wizard. Kadid braced his staff against the warehouse and pointed it at the man. The gangster’s charge sent him straight into the staff stomach first. That staggered him long enough for Kadid to hit him across the face.

Two gangsters tried to run. Habbly tripped the first with the mop while Kadid chased down the second one and knocked him down. A lone gangster looked strong enough to continue the fight, but seeing so many of his fellows defeated convinced him to surrender.

Kadid breathed hard as he stared at the men. “Get this through your thick skulls. This warehouse is under my protection. You won’t steal a single grain of rice out of it. You won’t get so much as a copper coin from my employer. If you even think about setting the warehouse on fire, I will personally entomb you in bricks and dump you in the ocean. Am I getting through to you, or do you need a demonstration?”

“Clear, governor,” the leader gasped.

As the gangsters tried to leave, Hably whispered to Kadid. The wizard ordered, “Drop your weapons. You can leave, but not armed.”

Reluctantly the men disarmed and left a pile of weapons at Kadid’s feet. Habbly whispered more to Kadid, who added, “And your money. Come on, empty your wallets.”

“What the…you’re robbing us?” a gangster sputtered.

Kadid leaned down into the man’s face and scowled. “Call it the price of stupidity. Angry wizard is losing his patience. Money, now.”

The gangsters emptied their pockets and produced a small pile of copper coins. Injured, disarmed and broke, they fled into the crowd. With the show over the crowd dispersed, moving on as if it was just another day. A single man with a badly stained suit stayed behind and marched up to Kadid.

“Look at what you did to my clothes! This is never going to come out! I demand—”

Kadid pressed the tip of his staff against the man’s neck. “You stayed to watch the show, you take responsibility for the consequences. Beat it.”

With that the fight was over. Habbly handed the mop back to the washerwoman while Kadid took the loot from the fight and retreated to the warehouse’s doorway. Exhausted, Habbly joined him there.

“That was pretty impressive for someone who doesn’t like to fight,” Kadid said.

“I don’t like it, but I’m good at it.” Habbly sorted through the weapons until he found a dagger that fit his hands well. “That’s not bad magic. Why did you hire out for a job this small if you’re so strong?”

Kadid looked worried. “Um, those two spells are all I can muster. I won’t be able to cast more magic until tomorrow. But I’m getting better! Last year I could only cast one spell a day.”

Habbly put a hand over his face. “You can cast two spells a day and you want to be a hero.”

“I want to be the man who saves those in need. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I guess not.”

They spent the next few hours talking and keeping an eye out for the Warf Rats. Thankfully the gang didn’t make a second attack. Men came near dusk with wagons and loaded up the rice for shipment elsewhere. A richly dressed merchant counted out ten guilders and handed them to Kadid.

“Good money for two day’s work,” the merchant said. He tipped his hat and left without another word.

Astounded, Habbly asked, “That’s all you got paid?”

Kadid shrugged. “That plus another job and the bounty money on that devil rat should get me where I’m going. Are you coming or not? I don’t want to force you into this, but it would go smoother with a goblin’s help, and I think you’d be happier in a kingdom of your own people.”

“I don’t know,” Habbly said. He and Kadid left the now empty warehouse behind and headed into Nolod’s tangled web of streets.

“We’ll find a flophouse to spend the night and make a decision in the morning,” Kadid said. He stopped in mid stride when they came across an elaborate poster stuck to a wall. “That’s weird.”

Habbly went over to study the poster. “What is?”

“This. I’ve seen lots of advertisements in Nolod, but they’re always on cheap paper and have sloppy writing. This one’s made of high quality paper. It looks like it’s made with linen as well as wood pulp. Pricy. And look at that fine penmanship. The blue ink is a strange choice, too.”

“No secrets,” Habbly read aloud. “I’ve seen these before in Sunset City. That’s hundreds of miles from here. Let’s see what they’ve got this time.”

“Ooh, look at this!” Kadid pointed to a paragraph near the middle. “It says Julius Craton is on a secret mission to Oceanview Kingdom, where he will do battle with the Red Hand criminal organization. I’ve heard of them. They used to work out of Nolod before they were chased off. Still a dangerous bunch.”

Habbly’s jaw dropped. “Do you have enough money to pay for ship passage to Oceanview? Please say yes!”

Kadid looked confused. “What’s the matter?”

Habble stabbed the middle of the poster with his new dagger. “This! If Julius was on a secret mission, it’s not a secret anymore! Anybody who comes across this poster knows about it.”

“Not just this one.” Kadid pointed his staff at identical posters on other buildings. “Look. There are dozens of them. Who put these up? They weren’t here this morning.”

Terror gripped Habbly’s heart. “I’ve seen these posters in other kingdoms! If there are so many and they’re spread so wide, it’s almost certain the Red Hand will hear about Julius’ mission. He’s walking into a trap!”

Few places in the Raushatd Mountains were as foreboding as Cyclopean Tower, or as misnamed, given that the tower has an even number of doors, windows, floors, bedrooms, tables, chairs, guards and even cats. The black granite monolithic structure towered over the desolate landscape, its thick walls covered in skull carvings and its iron doors cast to resemble gaping maws. In five hundred years Cyclopean Tower had never fallen to invaders. This meant that its current owner was surprised when his guards brought an intruder.

Two minotaurs opened the black doors leading to their master’s throne room and dragged a young man in between them. The hulking beasts threw the youth to the floor and stood over him with their double bladed axes at the ready if the order should come to execute him. The larger of the minotaurs said, “Master, this fool snuck into the kingdom and was heading for your tower when we seized him. He carried no weapons, no money, only food, water and a scrap of paper.”

“Hi there,” the youth said. He was a nondescript teenager, with brown hair, brown eyes and dirty clothes. He was strong from hard work, but no match for the bulky minotaurs. “Listen, this is all a big mistake.”

“I’d use the adjective ‘monumental’ in this situation,” Malvax Terrothis corrected the youth.

The youth gasped at Malvax. Most people did. The ancient wizard wore a dark gray cape over a black shirt and pants embroidered with gold thread. His boots were black with strange red markings that ran up to his knees. Malvax wore three jeweled rings and carried a glowing black staff set with sapphires.

Malvax was an impressive sight, but first time visitors tended to focus on his head, namely that it was missing. His neck ended in a pale blue flickering flame as large as a man’s head. There were flickering points of light where you might expect to see eyes, but no other signs of a face.

The youth waved. “Hi.”

Malvax sat at a wood table large enough to seat fifty men. A cook brought a plate of food, which the wizard cut up and ate. This involved stabbing bite sized pieces of meat with a fork and shoving it into his fiery head where a mouth should have been and wasn’t. The food burned away quickly, and Malvax put in another forkful.

“That’s kind of unnerving,” the youth said.

“I had assumed infusing my body with a thousand magems of energy and replacing my head would mean an end to meals,” Malvax replied as he burned away another morsel. “It was surprising to find I still needed food, and I could enjoy it.”

Malvax got up from the table and dabbed at his nonexistent chin with a napkin, burning it away in the process. “I dislike disruptions to my daily routine and go to some effort to prevent them. So I hope you appreciate how annoying this intrusion is and that you have to die.”

“But I haven’t done anything!”

“Precisely,” Malvax said. “I accept invited guests on rare occasions, but men sneaking in such as yourself are inevitably thieves, assassins, treasure hunters, adventurers or some related species of vermin. Killing you before you do something stupid is preferable to letting you get started. Now then, do you prefer decapitation or immolation?”

“Neither!” The youth tried to get up, but the nearest minotaur pushed him back to the floor. “If I was a killer or thief then wouldn’t I have a weapon?”

“Not necessarily,” Malvax said as he finished his meal. “I’ve seen more than one assassin travel unarmed to avoid arousing suspicion, then get a weapon on location to do the job. It’s actually quite clever.”

The youth looked down in shame. “I’m a threat to no one, which is why I’m here. The people I love are in danger and I can’t do anything to help them. I came because I need to talk to you.”

Malvax rolled his eyes and waved for the cook to come with the next course of the meal. “That may be, but I have precious few reasons to talk to you. What made you think an ancient, omnipotent despotic wizard needed to discuss anything with a farm boy?”

“Rancher,” the youth replied. “I know your time is important and I didn’t come empty handed. I can get you riches.”

“Riches.” Malvax didn’t sound impressed. He waved at his throne room and asked, “Child, when I have gold, jewels, servants, magic, and up until now peace and quiet, what could you possibly offer me?”

“My name is Todd, sir.”

“I don’t care, and neither does anyone else.” The cook brought another tray of food, this one with tropical fruit cut into artistic patterns. Malvax tossed a piece of fruit into his head, where it burned away. “Hmm, a bit under ripe. Todd, to get here you had to pass at least four keep out signs with skulls and crossbones liberally painted on them, and a fair number of real skulls at the base of those signs.”

“Yes, I saw those.”

“And you either crossed the Bridge of Woe or climbed the Stairs of Tears, both of which are littered with bones you might not have realized were human given how broken up they were. Those men’s armor was also so damaged that I can forgive you not realizing what it was, but there were broken swords, spears and axes that I’m sure you could identify as such.”

“I saw those, too.”

“And in spite of all those very public declarations of my generally poor disposition, you came here anyway. Todd, I have what I consider sufficient evidence of your utter stupidity, which means you probably don’t have anything of value to me. But while I am despotic I consider myself fair. Decapitation and immolation are not your cup of tea, so how about poison?”

“Let me make my case,” Todd protested. “I’d heard you made a deal with a man once before. Why him and not me?”

Malvax grumbled as he picked through the fruit. “You are ruining my appetite, child. You’re also referring to one Justin Vast, who offered me an undamaged book from the ancient elf empire in return for killing a wyvern that was eating his sheep. That was a mistake in every sense of the word. It convinced oafs like you that I could be bought off, or worse, hired. When I translated my reward, it wasn’t a tome of ancient secrets or arcane lore as I had been led to believe. It turned out to be a three hundred-page book of dirty limericks. I realize the elf empire was a moral cesspit, but really!”

“So, bad history of working with others,” Todd said. “Check. But I can get you gobs of gold. We’re talking piles of the stuff.”

“Todd, have you taken the time to examine your surroundings?”

Todd did as instructed. The throne room was not just large but ornate. Walls were carved with elaborate symbols and inlaid jewels. The huge table and chairs around it were made from blood wood, a rare and hard to grow tree, and they were so beautifully carved that they qualified as artwork.

Malvax walked to a balcony that overlooked the courtyard around Cyclopean Tower. He waved his hands at the town below with hundreds of peasants and artisans living in stone houses.

“The Raushtad Mountains are known for famine and natural disasters to be yearly occurrences,” Malvax. “Where others fail I carved out a home and kept it from all comers for three hundred years. Armies, monsters and horrors unknown to this world waged war upon me and failed. Death came for me and left empty handed. I own four towns like this, a silver mine and a controlling share in the Iron Pyrite Comedy Company. I’m missing how a rancher could add to my holdings in a meaningful way, and I feel a growing certainty that whatever reward you’re offering isn’t going to be worth the trouble it’s sure to cause.”

“But you won’t know for certain until you hear me,” Todd persisted.

Malvax snapped his fingers, and one of the minotaurs tossed him a copper coin. “Heads I hear you out, tails I break out The Big Book of Black Magic and get creative. Fifty-fifty odds, Todd, it’s not going to get better than that.”

Todd stared at the coin as sweat dripped down his face. “Do it.”

“Your funeral.” Malvax flipped the coin and caught it, then slapped it on his left wrist. He took his right and away and looked down. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Todd asked.

Malvax walked back to the table, and with a wave of his hand caused a red hourglass to appear. He set it on the table and announced, “You have until the sands stop flowing to convince me this isn’t a waste of time. Talk fast.”

Todd approached Malvax and took a folded up sheet of paper from his pocket. He spread it out on the table and stepped back. “I live in the land of the Dark Duke. He has a stranglehold on power and brutalizes his people for crimes that only happened in his twisted mind. No one is safe from his delusions of conspiracies against him.”

“Whereas I am a beacon of hope?” Malvax asked.

“Your people live better than most do.”

“That’s because dead men can’t pay taxes.”

“The Dark Duke doesn’t feel that way,” Todd replied. “My people suffer needlessly and are a step away from starvation even in good times. We won’t last another year under his rule. But there are trade routes going through the Dark Duke’s territory where merchant caravans and river barges come every week during summer. He has tollbooths on three major roads and Mermaid River to tax those merchants. Every year he collects tolls in both cash and trade goods worth a fortune. It could be yours.”

Malvax stared at Todd for a moment before saying, “It’s times like these I wish I still had hair so I could pull it out by the handful.”

Todd held up both hands. “It’s easy! The Dark Duke’s forces are nowhere near as strong as yours. He’s not expecting an attack from you, either, and my map shows where they’re stationed. You could stage a surprise attack and take his army apart piecemeal, minimal threat, minimal losses, maximum reward.”

“What part of ‘I don’t need the money’ isn’t getting through to you, Todd?” Malvax demanded. “I might have made a deal for magic or ancient secrets, but I have gold without having to fight for it. Chad, tell this idiot I have gold!”

Todd frowned. “Chad?”

An earnest looking young man in bright, cheery clothes came in through the same door that Todd had been dragged in. The bond haired man set down a stack of books and shook Todd’s hand. “Hello.”

“This is Chad, my accountant,” Malvax explained. “I know he doesn’t really fit in with the decor, and quite frankly he wasn’t my first choice, but just try finding a man with experience in accounts receivable in these mountains. Chad, tell him I’ve got money.”

“Less than you should have,” Chad answered.

“I’m sorry, what?” Malvax asked.

Chad opened a book and paged through it. “Profits from the silver mine have gone down since dwarf miners opened up a competing mine in the mountains. It’s depressing the value of the silver you’re producing. Grain taxes from towns and farms are staying level, but opening up new farmland is taking longer and costing more than anticipated. Honestly, sir, while the books are still in the black, you could use new sources of revenue.”

“Ignore him,” Malvax told Todd. “Seizing land from the Dark Duke opens me up to attack from new enemies. If that land is as tax rich as you say, others are going to want it and are willing to kill for it.”

“If I may, sir, the Dark Duke’s territory is readily accessible by the same roads and river that brings in the tolls that make it worth having,” Chad said. “You’d need to guard those entry points, requiring the construction of fortifications and hiring guards, or in your case possibly creating them. Costs may exceed income in this situation.”

Malvax pointed at Chad. “See? That man knows what he’s talking about. Your reward is to open myself up to attack by every ambitious man in the Raushtad Mountains, and there is no shortage of those. My new peasant followers could easily invite or even aid such men to attack me, the same way you’re trying to get me to kill the Dark Duke. And quite frankly, I’m surprised you think a wizard would want to be a landlord.”

“You control four villages,” Todd said. “How would this be different?”

“Those towns didn’t exist before I settled in Cyclopean Tower,” Malvax replied. “Peasants came to me, swearing fealty in return for protection. I get a cut of their produce that they’re quite happy to turn over. Taking land others own means enforcing my will over them, a difficult, time consuming and generally bloody task I have no interest in.”

Todd pointed at one of the minotaurs. “Then delegate the landlord part of the job to him. Look at those muscles! No one would refuse him.”

The minotaur perked up. “I like this idea.”

“No means no, Todd, and you’re running out of sand in the hourglass,” Malvax said. His cook brought out a tray of sweets. “Ah, raspberry cream tarts!”

“Then don’t do it for the money,” Todd pressed. “Do it to be feared. Show the people in these mountains that you’re a force to be reckoned with again.”

Malvax was reaching for a dessert when he froze and turned to face Todd. He leaned in so close that the youth could feel heat coming from the wizard’s flaming head. “Reckoned with again? Would you care to rethink that last statement while you still have all your organs intact and in their correct positions?”

“I’m terrified of you,” Todd said hastily. “Other people in the Raushatd Mountains aren’t. Sir, be honest, when was the last time you did something, anything, to make the world sit up and take notice?”

“You dog!” Malvax stood up and grabbed Todd by the collar. “I have bested armies and fought dragons! When the wizards of the Inspired tried to kill me and loot my library, I turned half of their membership into gerbils!”

“That happened before I was born!” Todd cried out as Malvax lifted him until his feet were six inches above the floor. “It was before my parents were born! People know you exists and you’re strong, but they think you’re satisfied living here not bothering anyone. You have to take action to be feared, and defeating the Dark Duke would do it.”

Malvax tossed Todd aside and pointed his staff at the youth. “I don’t bother anyone because I don’t have to, your miserable cretin! I have what I want right here. Cash, security, solitude, it’s mine without a fight.”

“Sir—” Todd began.

A minotaur leaned close to Chad and said, “I’ve seen him get in these moods before. If he brings up his dad, run.”

“My father?” Malvax roared. His fire grew with his rage until the room became unbearably hot. “The ingrate who didn’t give me a name until I was twelve because he thought I didn’t deserve one? The fool who leased me out to anyone who could pay his bar tab? The wretch who said I’d never amount to anything?”

“I’m pretty sure we weren’t talking about him,” Todd said weakly.

“We are now!” Malvax jabbed Todd in the chest with the tip of his staff. “I came into this world with nothing and lost even that. The odds I faced were astronomical, the men opposing me terrifying, no one was my ally, and yet here I am. Century after century I fought enemies the likes of which you can’t even imagine.

“And here you are, a loser, a failure, a Todd, trying to trick me into fighting your battles for you. You want the Dark Duke dead? Do it yourself. You have no weapons, no money, no friends, no hope? Neither did I.” Leaning in close again, Malvax asked, “Do you have any idea the kind of sacrifices I made to become so powerful and last so long?”

Todd stared at the flames burning where Malvax’s head should have been. “I have some idea.”

Malvax pulled back. “Yes, I suppose it was a silly question. We’ll chalk that up to murderous rage dulling my normally sharp wits.”

With that Malvax walked back to the table, picked up the hourglass and laid it on its side. “And that concludes our discussion. We now move onto the part where I reduce you to a quivering husk of a man.”

“But there’s sand left in the hourglass,” Todd protested.

“Our deal was you had until the sands stopped flowing to impress me. You will note that the sands are not flowing, and you have most assuredly not impressed me. I still feeling sporting despite you upsetting me. Heads I kill you slowly and painfully, tails I send you back to your people a broken man unable to even talk as a lesson to those who might be tempted to annoy me.”

Malvax snapped his fingers. “Wine. The good stuff.”

His cook hurried out with an ornate green glass bottle. The cook uncorked it and handed it to Malvax, who poured it liberally onto his head. Wine boiled away with a hiss and turned to steam as the wizard consumed the entire bottle. “I just got off this stuff, and you had to upset me enough to break open a bottle. I hope you’re happy.”

“The Dark Duke has magic items you could take!” Todd yelled. “You like magic! And he hired two wizards from the Inspired. You hate those guys, and I bet they have spell books.”

“Not interested.”

Desperate, Todd turned to Chad. “Do something!”

Chad shrugged. “What sort of help do you expect from an accountant? Besides, you’re the one who made him mad.”

Malvax took out the copper coin again and tossed it in the air. He was reaching for it when Chad said, “Sir?”

Too late. Malvax snatched the coin from the air and he slapped it against his wrist. “Chad, as much as I need you, I’m not in the mood for interruptions.”

Chad pointed out at the balcony overlooking the courtyard. “It’s just we have more visitors, about a thousand of them.”

“What?” Malvax headed to the balcony and saw an army marching toward Cyclopean Tower. There were hundreds of swordsmen, spearmen marching in a phalanx, archers in the back and knights on horseback. The men wore black armor edged in crimson, and their weapons were made of black steel with spikes and barbs. Flags showing a black wolf on a blue background flew over the army.

The effect on the people of the town was dramatic. Men ran into their homes and shut their doors. Malvax’s guards raced to protect Cyclopean Tower, as did magic creations like gargoyles and a stone golem. The minotaurs ran over to join their master and face this threat.

“That’s the Dark Duke,” Malvax said as the army approached. “This is madness. He would have needed days to rally his men and march them here, leaving his lands undefended. I’ve given him no cause to do so.”

The army came to a halt not far from Cyclopean Tower. The Dark Duke, a bear of a man wearing black plate armor, came to the front of his forces. Two Inspired wizards dressed in black and white robes followed him, either one as dangerous as a platoon of knights.

“Malvax Terrothis, I come demanding satisfaction, and will not leave without it,” the Dark Duke announced.

Malvax walked onto the balcony, his staff in one hand as he pointed the other at the Dark Duke. “Satisfaction? You come onto my land unprovoked with an army. I’m the only one here with a reason to be angry.”

“I know your secret, conniving wizard. Many witnesses saw a traitor go to you with maps of my property, my forts, my very castle! You plot with malcontented peasants to seize the lands I hold.”

“What are you talking about?” Malvax demanded. “The only thing I have is a poorly drawn picture by an illiterate rancher I was about to kill for annoying me.”

“Then you admit you have him!”

Malvax began to speak again, but he stopped and looked back at Todd. “Wait. I can believe you’re stupid enough to let people see you leave your ranch, but how would they know you were coming here with a map? There’s no way they’d know that detail when the map fits in your pocket. The only way the Dark Duke could learn that…is if you wanted him to. You made sure he’d learn you were coming here.”

Todd smiled. “I planted the information that I was coming here to get your help. It was hard to pull it off without getting caught before I got here, but he’s convinced you’re out to get him. That part was easy since he’s paranoid. I honestly don’t know which one of you is going to win this fight, but the world is better off without either of you.”

“You treacherous dog!”

“Malvax!” the Dark Duke roared. “I left you in your pitiful tower, but no longer. Your lands, gold and peasants are now mine by right of combat.”

Malvax folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t tolerate threats, especially by those unable to carry them out. You won’t be able to hold the ground you stand on if I so much as snap my fingers. You want the boy who’s behind this? That I might consider, but your audacity demands repercussions.”

The wizard held up the coin he’d tossed minutes earlier to decide Todd’s fate. “Heads I give you the boy and let you leave with your army intact. Tails I break out the Big Book of Black Magic and do things to you that shouldn’t happen to a dog. I’m told I’m not feared the way I once was. Casting a few of those spells should correct that problem.”

The Dark Duke sneered and took a javelin from one of the Inspired Wizards. “I’ve never let chance dictate my life.”

Malvax rolled his eyes. “What do you think that toy is going to—”

The Dark Duke threw the javelin at Malvax. Strong and skilled as he was, the javelin shouldn’t have been able to hit at such a range. But in flight it began to glow, and strange runes appeared on its sides as it sped up in midflight. The javelin struck Malvax in the chest and went halfway through him.

There was a blinding flash of purple light and a boom like a thunderclap when it hit. The Dark Duke’s army cowered at the sight, and Malvax’s followers took cover. Malvax stood transfixed as the purple light radiated from him. The thunderclap died away to a low rumble as the javelin began to quiver and then smoke. Purple fire erupted from Malvax’s body and burned through the javelin until two halves of the weapon clattered onto the balcony. The purple fire kept burning, sealing the wound and then healing it. In mere seconds he was whole and well again.

“It’s not possible,” the Dark Duke said. He turned to his now terrified wizards and yelled, “You swore it would kill him!”

The Dark Duke’s army watched in horror as Malvax looked down at them. He snapped his fingers and caused a large book fly out of a hidden room in the tower and into his hands. The minotaurs recognized it and grabbed Chad before they fled. Todd saw that the strange book had carved obsidian and turquoise stones forming a grinning face on the cover. Todd was sure he wouldn’t get far as he ran for his life, but his fears were baseless. Malvax’s attention was focused solely on the Dark Duke.

“Tails it is,” Malvax said, and he opened the book.

* * * * *

While many had suspected the Dark Duke was foolish or even deranged, no one knew what madness drove him to attack the ancient wizard Malvax Terrothis. What they did know was that he left his lands with almost his entire army, and none returned. In time a neighboring king annexed the Dark Duke’s lands. While this king wasn’t the kindest person, he was a definite improvement over the previous ruler.

Many wondered why Malvax didn’t try to seize the land he’d left leaderless and unprotected. Facts on the matter were rare and hard to come by. Few men had the wizard’s permission to safely enter his territory, and they only made cryptic warnings that neighboring people took to heart. For that reason, no parents within a hundred miles of Malvax Terrothis’ lands gave their newborn sons the name Todd.

Professor Atril Renault led his first period class out of the central building of The Vastan Institute of Magic and Technology. It was a glorious morning, sunny and warm, the air heavy with perfume from blooming trees, and pixies were relatively under control. That last fact took considerable effort and a large number of trained hawks, but it was worth it. Normally this would cheer Professor Renault.

“I didn’t think students were supposed to leave the Institute, sir,” Marty Fest said. Marty was the reason why Professor Renault was in a foul mood. Most people could only earn a handful of mortal enemies, but Marty had an innate ability to make everyone in a mile radius murderously annoyed with him.

“I would imagine you’d be pleased to leave the grounds,” Professor Renault replied. The older man wore simple, dignified robes over his functional work clothes. His oak staff was set with fire opals, as were the rings on his fingers. Renault’s thinning hair was turning gray, but otherwise he was in excellent condition. “I imagine Institute staff members will be equally delighted after last night.”

Marty smiled (never a good sign) and raised one finger. “I wasn’t near the unicorn’s cage when it got out, sir.”

“You were never near the wine cellar, the returns section of the library, the ladies lavatory and the rare plants garden that all befell shockingly bad luck.” Professor Renault stopped and turned to look Marty in the eyes. Marty smiled back, the smug expression of a man smart enough to do massively stupid deeds.

“Exactly.” Marty spoke that word as if it was proof of his innocence and that the matter was unimportant.

The Vastan Institute for Magic and Technology was the crown jewels of the city of Chalerdon, no small claim given the city’s staggering wealth. The Institute’s gravity defying architecture was the result of dozens of skilled wizards working for decades. It filled entire blocks of a city known for beauty, wealth and culture. Attending the Institute as a student should have been an honor bestowed on only the best, but Professor Renault had long ago noticed a decline in the behavior of his pupils.

Professor Renault continued on with fifteen students, young, intelligent teenagers who had basic training in magic and were from respectable families. Students had to have these traits, but there were times when young people could be too intelligent for their own good and come from families too respectable. Some were smart enough to cause trouble while having family connections to avoid the repercussions of their actions. This state of affairs could go on for years until they did something so foolish there was no way to avoid the fallout, and possibly no way to survive it.

Marty Fest was such a person. Smart, wealthy and related to men in power, the blond haired youth was handsome and drew attention from ladies his age. Any attraction ended the moment Marty spoke his mind, which was constantly in the gutter. His clothes were rich silks dyed gold and red, very stylish, and his coin pouch bulged with gold. Marty never failed to flaunt his wealth to students on financial need scholarships. He was, in short, a twit.

“Students are required to stay on Institute property to prevent them from patronizing disreputable establishments in the city,” Professor Renault said as he led his students onward. “Some students see this as a challenge to avoid our security measures and visit local bars. Today’s field trip is an exception to the rules.”

A young girl raised her hand and asked, “Where are we going?”

“I’m sure it will be exciting and challenge our minds,” Marty said cheerfully. He saw an attractive waitress at an outdoor restaurant and said, “There’s a challenge I wouldn’t mind solving.”

Another student scowled as he walked around an elf riding a griffin down the street. He leaned in close to Marty and whispered, “Renault is right here, Marty. Right here. You know, ‘Collective Punishment’ Renault, the guy who dunked an entire class into a lake for failing a test. He’s promised to do the same to us if we screw up.”

“Talk is cheap, and so is he,” Marty whispered back.

“They didn’t fail the following test, proof my actions had the desired effect,” Professor Renault said, startling both boys. “I am neither deaf nor stupid, Mr. Fest. You would be wise not to mistake patience for cowardice.”

“Second period is going to start soon, sir,” a female student pressed. “We barely have time to get back to the Institute, and I have Ms. Prezle’s Magic Theory lecture next. The last person who was late for her class was used for target practice.”

Another girl scowled at her. “Thanks for bringing that up! I spent four hours as an oak tree because of that witch, and stop smirking, Marty!”

“We’ll be back on Institute grounds before first period is over,” Professor Renault replied. He stopped walking and pointed to his left. “Here we are.”

“Here we are where?” the first girl asked. “It’s just an old house.”

“Appearances often deceive in our profession,” Professor Renault said. The building was small, with only one floor and a few hundred square feet. The walls were brick, the roof intact and the windows closed. There were beautiful flowers around the house, but the lush growth reached onto the street.

The second girl frowned and backed up. “Professor, you teach Ethics in Magic. What does this have to do with ethical behavior?”

Professor Renault tapped his staff on the paved street. “All will be clear shortly. Now, what can you tell me about this building?”

Two students raised their hands, but Marty shouted, “I’ve got this!”

Professor Renault stepped back and waved his staff at Marty. “By all means, Mr. Fest, let us see your powers of deduction.”

Marty began, “Land around the Institute is expensive, so some peon should occupy a house like this, but it looks like nobody’s lived here for months. There’s nothing wrong with the house physically. Let me check for magic auras…nope, no wards. The city watch doesn’t care that this place is a mess, which means whatever is going on here either has their approval or it isn’t worth their time bothering with. But someone has to own this place, so they should care that it’s gone to seed.”

“Which tells you what?” Professor Renault pressed.

Marty paused and then smiled. “It’s not abandoned. Someone or something is living here, not a person, maybe a monster or spirit.”

Professor Renault tapped his staff against the side of the building. “This house was purchased by the Institute years ago as a residence for visiting scholars. It’s not being used for that purpose because it was occupied by goblins, a situation the city watch has asked to deal with. We declined their offer and instead treat this as an opportunity for our students.”

The girl who’d once been turned into an oak tree edged away from the building. “What kind of opportunity?”

“It’s a test for our more ambitious students,” Professor Renault replied. “All of you have mastered basic magic. Most of you have mastered common sense. A few have even mastered logical thought. I’m curious which among you has reached such lofty goals. The test is can any of you evict the goblins. This isn’t easy, but anyone who succeeds is allowed full use of the house for the rest of the school year. You can stay here rent free and enjoy the hospitality of Chalerdon, provided you are on time for your classes.”

“That’s easy!” Marty boasted.

“Are you volunteering to be first, Mr. Fest?” Professor Renault asked.

“I’m volunteering to win your contest,” Marty said. He walked up to the house’s front door and stopped only long enough to cast a spell. Rocks sprung up from the ground and formed a shield and club Marty grabbed. He cast another spell and more rocks sprung up and assembled into a stone man four feet tall.

Then he opened the door.

A log ten inches wide and three feet long shot out and smashed the stone man before rolling down the street. A lasso caught Marty and dragged him into the house so fast he seemed to disappear. Frightened screams followed.

“Now what have we learned from this?” Professor Renault asked the other students while Marty continued screaming. When no one answered, he said, “The first is that Mr. Fest chose not to ask questions before beginning the test, such as how many goblins live in the house, or how long they have lived here and thus had time to prepare for invaders.”

“Get it off!” Marty yelled. “Get it off!”

“The second mistake was not asking local homeowners about these goblins, people who would know best about them,” Professor Renault continued. “I would hazard to guess that Mr. Fest assumed he didn’t have to because one goblin is the same as another. There is an unfortunate tendency for people to assume all members of a race act the same. Many goblins avoid conflicts. Not these ones. Nor are all men, elves or dwarfs the same.”

“Give that back!” Marty yelled. “It’s mine!”

“Mr. Fest’s last mistake, and I consider this the biggest, was not asking other students who took the test before him what he could expect,” Professor Renault added. “He was far from the first to make the attempt, and previous victims could have provided much needed advice.”

One of the girls raised a hand and asked, “Shouldn’t we help him?”

One of Marty’s shoes went flying out of the building. When it stopped moving they could see that half of it had been eaten.

The same girl said, “Never mind.”

“You’re making a big mistake!” Marty yelled.

Seconds later Marty was unceremoniously hurled out of the house. His clothes were torn and painted blue. His coin pouch and shoes were gone. His hands were tied behind his back. He was also wearing a bonnet and pink skirt.

“Would anyone else like to try?” Professor Renault asked. When no one raised their hands or stepped forward, he prodded, “Come now, no takers?”

“I don’t think we’re ready for this quite yet, sir,” a girl said. “At least not alone.”

“Going in as a group wouldn’t end much better,” Professor Renault said. “You each have mastered basic magic. This does not make you invulnerable, all-powerful or even right in most situations. Bravado, carelessness, arrogance and prejudice have no place in your lives now or after graduation. If you don’t think through the logical results of your actions then you will suffer far worse than Mr. Fest, and innocent men, women and children will suffer with you.”

Professor Renault then walked in front of Marty. The youth was furious but helpless to take action. Looking annoyed, the professor said, “A warning, Mr. Fest, should you wish to take revenge on the goblins or myself…”

Professor Renault shifted his staff from his right hand to his left. He clenched his right hand into a fist. Light shined from between his fingers and sparks shot out. Pebbles on the road levitated around the Professor and the air stank of ozone. The students backed up, and Marty’s fury was replaced by fear.

“Try it, you miserable toad,” Professor Renault said in a low, deadly voice. “Just try it. I have decades of experience in magic you can’t begin to match, and a temper that long ago reached the boiling point. You are not smart enough, not rich enough, not powerful enough to lock horns with me, boy. I won’t hesitate for a second to put you in your place, and to blazes with the consequences.”

The door to the house swung closed with a bang, making the students jump. Professor Renault let his spell fade and continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

“This concludes today’s lesson. My hope is all of you learned that actions have consequences. This lesson can be repeated as often and as painfully as necessary until it takes root. You have time enough to get to your next class if you hurry.”

“I can’t show up like this!” Marty yelled.

“You could, although I wouldn’t recommend it,” Professor Renault replied. “That leaves two choices: skip your next class while you make yourself presentable or go to class as you are. Both courses of action will result in harsh punishments. Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Fest, but don’t you have Ms. Prezle’s Magic Theory class next period? And unless I’m much mistaken that starts in five minutes.”

“Run!” one of the girls yelled, and the students ran back to the Institute as fast as they could.

Marty stumbled after them and called out, “Someone untie my hands!”

Professor Renault watched them leave before he walked up to the house’s door, opened it and tossed in a small wheel of cheese sealed in wax that he’d brought hidden inside his robes. Eager hands snatched it out of the air and eager mouths gobbled it up.

“You were kind of rough on the guy,” a goblin called out from inside the house. “Most of the students who take this test are junior year or better.”

“He was getting out of hand, dangerously so,” Professor Renault replied. He leaned against the doorframe. “These students are getting worse. There was a time we’d only do this once a year! I fear for the future.”

The goblins also remembered a time long ago when they’d had fewer ‘challengers’. Few students knew how many decades the goblins had lived in this house, or that Professor Renault had invited them to stay in return for the help they now gave with depressing regularity.

One goblin said, “Next year’s students will be better.”

“I pray you’re right.” Professor Renault picked up the log that had been launched out of the house and returned it to the goblins. He cast a spell to form a magic cloud and stepped onto it. As it carried him back to the Institute, he said, “Please reset your traps. There’s another student nearly as bad as Marty that I have to deal with next period

Few on the world of Other Place can master the art of magic, even though the world is known for spell casters. Partly this is because not all people have the necessary genius, and even fewer have the money to afford training. Of those with the prerequisite cash and intelligence, most are badly needed elsewhere doing important jobs, like being engineers, scholars, accountant, doctors and court officials. But for the few, the brilliant, the outrageously rich who aren’t otherwise too busy, magic is a possibility.

Aspiring wizards seek out masters to apprentice themselves to, but this leads to another problem. Most wizards have better things to do with their time than take on students. It doesn’t help that wizards can be highly selective about which student they’ll take even when the money is there. Masters might accept students only from specific races or nationalities. Some wizards are quite frankly evil and misuse/abuse potential students for reasons that start at petty and get worse from there.

This makes learning magic hard even for those special few. Most aspiring wizards give up, but for the truly determined and desperate, there’s Unhinged University.

Unhinged University

Unhinged University was founded by a small group of outlaw wizards. They weren’t evil, nor did their desire to rule the world for good reasons or bad ones. No, these wizards were swimming in debt, owing outrageous sums to lenders of questionable ethics, the kind that sends a man to the bottom of the ocean if he doesn’t pay. Powerful as they are, wizards can die, and bankers have the money to hire the best assassins to do the job. The wizards banded together for mutual protection and fled to an uninhabited wilderness. Here they built a few stone towers using powerful earth magic and settled down.

Their lives may have ended in obscurity and grinding poverty, except peasant farmers saw the towers and correctly guessed wizards were behind their sudden appearance. The farmers begged the wizards to kill monsters that were devastating their sheep herds, and they offered a small reward. None of the wizards wanted to help, but they needed the money and killed the monsters.

That fateful moment truly screwed them all. Word got out that a colony of wizards had appeared and was available for hire. Countless desperate and frightened people braved the wilderness to seek their aid, and a few youths arrived to ask for training. Then the wizards’ creditors came with assassins who specialized in killing wizards. It looked like the wizards were going to die, but their creditors saw a chance to get their money back. They agreed not to harm the wizards if they started making payments, using funds from helping people and training students to cover the bill. Facing imminent death from trained assassins, the wizards reluctantly agreed.

The university has stood for over two hundred years, so long that neighboring kingdoms have annexed territory right up to the university lawn. No kingdom has ever tried to annex the university itself, for the simple reason they don’t want to. Over the years, Unhinged University has burned down, blown up, vanished into thin air and even sunken into the ground. As long as no kingdom owns the land, and thus the university, their kings don’t get stuck with the bill. Each time Unhinged University has fallen, the university has been rebuilt under threat of the original creditors, still determined to get their money back. Reconstruction only adds to the debt the university began under and is still paying off.

Today Unhinged University has twenty wizards and a hundred apprentices. None of them are that impressive, but tenacity and overwhelming numbers often succeeds where skill and training fails. University staff produce and sell a large number of potions and single use magic items. The quality of these goods is questionable, but customers keep coming because cheap magic is better than no magic. University staff also copies and sells books and scrolls, usually assigning the work to apprentices. Typographical errors are said to be significant, and mistakes can be both glaring and potentially disastrous.

The university graduates dozens of wizards per year. Tuition is lower than most schools or independent wizards charge, and the education students receive is also lower. Graduates are on average less competent, worse trained and more morally questionable than traditionally trained wizards. These facts are widely known, yet it surprisingly doesn’t affect graduating students much. The demand for wizards, even bad ones, is so high that these subpar wizards are hired within weeks of leaving the university. Few of them ever grow to be mighty in their own right, and other wizards sneer at them, but most graduates get what they wanted.

Unlike many wizards, the staff at Unhinged University isn’t picky about who their buyers are, and they are equally willing to accept students from any race, gender, ethnicity or nationality. All are welcome provided they have enough money. This isn’t due to enlightened attitudes, but because the university can’t afford to turn down paying customers.

That last fact can be a problem. Plenty of questionable individuals have come to Unhinged University for training in magic or to buy minor magic items. University staff is equally willing to help these people as they are those with functioning moral compasses. This willingness to work with undesirable people, as well as the university’s history of being accidentally destroyed every few decades, earned it the name Unhinged University. Staff members have tried to change the name, but every time they come up with a new title no one uses it.

Despised and needed in equal measures, Unhinged University is open to all who can afford them. Villains and heroes both can find aid within its walls, often at the same time, for university staff neither favors no refuses any who come. Indeed, some research can only be conducted here, for the university is officially part of no kingdom, and thus is not beholden to laws either good or bad that prevent certain questionable experiments. In truth there are only two laws at Unhinged University: pay in cash, and all sales are final.

King Tyros stood in his bedchambers as he put on his belt and best cape over his silk clothes. Dressing up like this annoyed him. Simple, functional, that was what was needed. Trying to fit the expectation of others wasted time and money. In theory the men and women of his castle, his kingdom, should adjust their behavior to match his.

That was not the way the world worked, though. So much of being a king was looking the part, acting like others expected a king to behave. He’d made efforts to introduce changes in uniforms and behaviors, cutting down on costs and needless ceremonies, but they kept creeping back in. Commoners, artisans and nobles all wanted life to be as it always had been.

Amvicta joined him in dressed in her finest gown and jewels. She looked pleased with herself, so there might be fewer incidents at court caused by her sharp tongue. “Everyone’s ready.”

“A moment longer,” he told her as he put on his crown. Once he’d owned several crowns, but during the civil war he’d sold the less valuable ones to pay his soldiers. Other kings would find that galling, a diminishment of their authority. To Tyros it had been a move long coming. Luxury was waste in his eyes.

Tyros and Amvicta left their room and headed for the courtyard. Guards followed them as always, but there were more defenders. Tyros had increased the castle’s defenses as of late in case his newest followers proved ambitious. These guardians followed at a distance, slipping into this world and back to their own so quickly few noticed them and none got a clear look. One guard glanced to his left and paused, catching the barest glimpse of his mystic defenders, then resumed marching.

“My father sent words of encouragement for this mission,” Amvicta said proudly.

“Palan is restoring a castle, not going on a quest,” Tyros grumbled. Meadowland was filled with ruined castles awaiting restoration or demolition. Fixing one should prove no difficulty, but Palan would no doubt make it harder than it had to be.

“Simple tasks must come before difficult ones. Giving your son a chance to prove himself has been a long time coming. He won’t disappoint you.”

“That would be a welcome change,” Tyros replied, earning him a scowl from Amvicta.

He didn’t care. His wife and sons had proven massive disappointments at every turn. That his father-in-law felt the need to speak on Palan’s behalf was all the more galling. Amvicta’s family constantly overstepped their bounds, acting as kings in his kingdom, offering counsel, as if they had a right to, and constantly seeking advantages at Tyros’ expense.

They reached a point where the castle corridor branched, and Tyros turned left. Amvicta grabbed his arm and demanded, “Where are you going?”

“To see to military matters.”

She scowled. “That revolting wizard? Your son and important men await you.”

“One of the advantages of being king is no one is more important than I am.”

Tyros marched on followed by his wife and guards. He reached the guest bedrooms where the Inspired wizard waited for him. Tyros had accepted the man as a necessary evil, something life was filled with, but he’d never trusted him. This room was well away from sensitive areas of the castle, and nearby servants were in fact highly trained and well-armed agents ready to kill the wizard should he step out of bounds.

“Wait here,” Tyros said, and entered the room. He didn’t knock. This castle and kingdom were his, and he could go where he pleased when he pleased without asking permission. Once inside he shut the door. Best if no witnesses were present for what was about to be said.

The room was simple, with a bed, table and chair. The man within was anything but. Hyress of the Inspired wore the white and black robes common to his order of wizards, and carried an oak staff. He had a book on the bed filled with notes in a language Tyros had never seen and diagrams the meaning of which Tyros couldn’t even guess at. Hyress was a young man of perhaps twenty years, his brown hair cut short, his features almost boyish, but his expression was a riddle. He always looked curious, like the world was somehow new no matter how simple a thing he looked at. Tyros expected the wizard to be furious at his sudden entrance, maybe afraid, but Hyress was unphased.

“You failed me.” As starting moves it was brutal and likely to cause discontent, but Tyros liked his enemies unsettled.

“The plan was high risk and high reward when I proposed it,” Hyress replied casually. “Failure was not merely possible but likely. Nothing of value was lost in the attempt, and more missions are planned for this week, next week and the week after that. Bascal will fall under the volume of assaults.”

“A bold claim when you have only five undertrained, underpowered wizards. Your order is known for the number of wizards they can send, if not their strength. When will more come?”

That was another calculated insult. Tyros knew the best way to beat an enemy was to push them hard and often, and Hyress was an enemy despite their current arrangement. Anyone fool enough to think they could take over the world was a madman, or a deadly threat.

“The Inspired have committed more wizards to your cause than they have anywhere else on Other Place,” Hyress said calmly. “If you want more then more must be offered, or at least paid. We have received nothing we asked as payment for our services.”

“You ask for garbage!” Tyros yelled. He wasn’t used to being unsure about someone, but he couldn’t make sense of Hyress. He’d expected Hyress to demand gold, jewels, noble titles. Instead the wizard had asked to be paid with worthless refuse that even a beggar would ignore. Why? No explanation had been offered.

“It is of value to us,” Hyress replied. “As our prize means nothing to you, all the more reason to give it to us.”

Tyros held his ground a moment longer. He despised Hyress and men like him. The world was filled with opportunists, graverobbers and scavengers looking for scraps during times of crisis. And curse him for even thinking it, Tyros needed this vulture of a man.

He needed victories. The war was progressing poorly. Kaleoth was untouched, safe behind Racehorse River. Bascal had closed the main pass into their kingdom. His armies struggled to open it and had lost two major assets sent to assist the effort. Only in Zentrix did his armies advance now that the ground was dry enough to walk on rather than sink in, but their losses were heavy and morale was low. Tyros needed to reverse this trend, and Hyress might be able to do it.

“How soon after payment can your fellow wizards come, and how many of them will arrive?” Tyros asked through clenched teeth.

“If full payment is made, I can have eight additional wizards in Meadowland within ten days. They will bring summoned monsters, magic weapons and funds sufficient to play an active role in your war for an entire year.”

Tyros reached for the doorknob. “You will have it by day’s end. You disappointed me once, wizard. Those who make a habit of failure suffer for it.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“A question first. All the Inspired Wizards I’ve met wear uniforms of black and white. What is the significance of it?”

“White is commonly associated with goodness and black with evil,” Hyress replied. “We wear a blend of both white and black to show how we are above such thinking. Good and evil are childish concepts. There is only success or failure. Everything else is noise.”

“An interesting point of view,” Tyros told the wizard. It was one he agreed with. He’d survived a civil war, countless assassination attempts and constant challenges to his authority. He’d done what had to be done to survive. Good like the Brotherhood of the Righteous championed was weakness cloaked in dogma. The evil of bandits and monsters was needlessly destructive and heedless of the future. A king had to be decisive, brutal, confident and plan for the future.

That he agreed with Hyress sealed the man’s fate. Hyress would be equally decisive, brutal and confident, and he planned for a future where he ruled. If the time came when he thought he could overthrow Tyros, he would do so without pity or gloating. That meant the Inspired wizard and his fellow practitioners of the dark arts would have to die. Tyros would squeeze all the use he could from them and put them to death.

It was unfortunate, even a touch wasteful, but that was life.

Tyros rejoined his wife and guards outside the guest room and closed the door behind him. Amvicta gave him a sour look before complaining, “I don’t know what you tolerate that man in our castle.”

“Even serpents have their uses.” It was lost on her how that statement applied to her as much as the wizard. She would doubtless press her point, so to head off that argument he said, “With that settled we can move on to Palan. Restoring Grist Castle will take the rest of the year. If Palan succeeds there are other projects I can assign him.”

“Military tasks?” she asked hopefully.

Tyros would sooner put a goblin in charge of his armies than his spineless son. “Construction for now, military if he is and continues to be successful. As for Eskas—”

“We’re not talking about Eskas,” Amvicta interrupted. Her eldest son was no longer allowed in the castle, and she had no desire to see new punishments placed on his shoulders.

“You’re right. Palan has earned a chance to prove himself. We’ll see him on his way.”

They walked on in silence. The more Tyros thought about it, sending Palan on this task was a good idea. Palan had more failings than were acceptable in a man, much less a ruler, but he was clever. Rather like Mastram that way, always thinking. The boy might see what his father was planning. That wouldn’t do. Better to send him far from court, and when the time came deal with him alone.

They reached the courtyard to find Tyros’ court officials and resident nobles in attendance. It has a hot, sunny day, and the guests were sweating. Servants had hung pennants and banners to commemorate this dull event, and tables filled with refreshments had been set on the grassy field. Tyros and Amvicta stood on a low wood platform well away from their followers. Palan wasn’t present, waiting to be summoned and awarded royal orders.

“Announce the prince,” Tyros told an attendant. The man blew a horn, and Palan entered the courtyard from a gate opposite Tyros. He wore armor, as if he expected to fight, and was followed by a procession of soldiers. Those men were in their thirties and forties, competent but well past their prime. That met with Tyros’ approval. They could do the job asked of them without their absence being a drain on the military. Following them were hundreds of boys and young men.

Officially those callow youths were guests of the crown, to be protected and educated at royal expense. That lie fooled no one. They were the eldest sons of mayors from across Meadowland, men Tyros wasn’t entirely satisfied with. Their fathers had served him competently but without the enthusiasm. Replacing so many mayors would cause chaos and convince his officials they had to fear their king. This ensured the mayors’ cooperation, and served as a reminder to everyone there was a price to be paid for any slackening of support.

Palan bowed. “My father and my king, I come to serve.”

“Rise, Prince Palan,” Tyros replied. His son stood up straight. “You have sought royal command to rebuild Grist Castle for the good of Meadowland. This is granted.”

“I shall bring honor to your name and to Meadowland,” Palan replied.

That was doubtful, but Tyros went through with this tedious ceremony and handed a rolled up vellum scroll to his son. Palan accepted it and saluted, and the men with him saluted. Normally there would be a celebration or feast to commemorate assigning a prince a mission for the crown, but this deed was so minor Tyros had ordered it canceled. Palan hadn’t refused the move, some slight sign of maturity on his part. With this foolishness done, Palan led his meager force away, and good riddance to them all.

“You did the right thing,” Amvicta whispered to him.

Tyros watched his son leave. The boy was a waste, trash, a coddled child grown into a worthless man. When he died it would be no loss to Tyros or Meadowland, and that day was coming ever closer.

Tyros turned to his wife. “It was the logical choice.”

* * * * *

Palan stopped his small command late that night, far from the nearest house or witness. He had four hundred hostages, fifty older soldiers to guard them, ten wagons pulled by oxen, food and construction tools. It was enough.

Morale was high. Palan had hand-picked the soldiers, making sure these men knew the real meaning of honor and loyalty. They had served the crown long enough to see brutality masked as necessity, and been sickened by it. The hostages were in good cheer now that they were out of the capital. They knew some of Palan’s intensions and realized they were far from safety, but every step brought them closer to family and freedom. His soldiers fed them generous portions. They’d need their strength for the days ahead, and he’d made arrangements for more supplies along the way.

Palan sat at the edge of the camp away from the others. This small, desperate force under his command was in great danger. He knew this was their only chance, his only chance, but that was little consolation. If caught they would all be put to death. He’d made every effort to avoid such a fate. For months he’d been sending letters by means of discrete couriers to men and women he knew he could count on. He had friends in the kingdom who would risk their lives for him, if he could reach them. He’d also secured weapons and riches his father didn’t know about that could turn the tables in their favor. Would it be enough?

There was a rustling in the tall grass just off the road, and a horde of goblins emerged from cover. Some he recognized, others not. Thipins and Campots came up to him and shook his hand.

“You did it,” Thipins said proudly.

“The journey’s just begun, and father will have men watching us,” Palan told his friend.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them,” Campots promised. “We brought friends.”

“So I see.” Palan studied the newcomers. Most were typical goblins, dirty, smelly, dressed in rags, but two were different. One wore a strange white coat and carried a finely made leather bag. The second was even stranger, wearing black and green clothing in the same style of the King of the Goblins, and armed with a wood club carved to look like a scepter.

“It’s good to have friends,” he told the goblins. “Until you came, I’d never had one.”

“It’s gonna be okay, kiddo,” Thipins promised. He gave Palan a reassuring pat on the arm. “You won’t be exiled like your half-brother. We won’t let that happen.”

Splat was exhausted and covered in sweat, and he’d never been happier. He’d done it. After so much hard work and frustration he’d finally hit the big times. Important people with good reputations had come to him for help!

Tired as he was, he kept running through the dark streets of Nolod’s vast slums. The plan was working like a charm. He just had to reach his new partners and get them moving. Splat ran through puddles and dung piles, making a total mess of his dark blue clothes and covering the shiny buckles on his clothes with filth. When a mugger stepped in his way Splat went around the fellow and shouted, “No time!”

Oh, this was good. Golden, even! When Ibwibble had hired him, Splat had spent hours gathering his goblin mob. That had involved tracking them down, tying them up and dragging them to his hideout. Well, except Mummy and Molly. They’d been eager to join in the fun. An hour long presentation and generous bribes had ensured his followers would actually follow him. Splat had made sure to only kidnap goblins he’d worked with before. They were slow, stupid, disobedient and smelled funny, but they’d won victories in the past and they’d win today.

Splat reached a warehouse loaded with bags of wool and snuck in through a loose board. Inside he found a mob of goblins waiting for him, their leader impatiently tapping his foot.

“Well?” Bub the goblin asked.

“It worked,” Splat gasped. He nearly fell to the floor as he added, “We tracked them down to their base in the dockmaster’s office. There are three in the attack group and another one they’d left behind to guard their stuff. The windows are too small for us to get in and the door’s locked and barred. We can pick the lock, but that bar’s held in place by a peg inside the office.”

Bub frowned. The short, black clad goblin said, “The dockmaster is an important man. He’ll be in his office not long after dawn, so they’re going to leave soon.”

“I’ve got my best goblins watching them,” Splat replied. “If they leave before we get there, they’ll be followed.”

“That won’t help if they escape by boat. We have to move.”

Bub helped steady Splat and they left with Bub’s gang. Goblins on the rise knew about Bub and his tactical assault squad. They weren’t that many of them, but they had a string of victories longer than Splat’s arrest record. You had to respect a goblin like that. When Ibwibble had needed help, he’d hired Bub and then Splat. This would give them the numbers and combat experience to catch these weirdoes spilling everyone’s secrets.

Admittedly Splat’s group was smaller than Bub’s and lacked the cohesion and training of Bub’s followers. But Splat had Molly, the best human impersonator in the world, so good nobody realized she was a goblin. Molly was smart and followed orders, improvising when necessary. Molly never failed.

“The bad guys’ base might be for more than hiding,” Splat told Bub as he led the goblins through Nolod’s alleys and backstreets. Knowing these streets was another strength he had that Bub lacked. “Ibwibble sent word these guys stole papers from the nymph. The dockmaster’s got lots of papers, too.”

“You think they’re hitting two places in one night?”

“They won’t want to stick around here after the beating Calista gave them.”

A goblin nudged Bub and asked, “Righteous Fists of Vengeance?”

“We’re not changing the group’s name,” Bub said firmly. “Splat, what else did Ibwibble say?”

Splat checked a paper delivered to him half an hour ago by a goblin messenger. “One of them is a magician, but he’s weak. They also have alchemic weapons.”

“Then we’ve got to hit them hard and fast, or they could do a lot of damage. Even weak wizards are dangerous.”

“Knights of the Coming Cataclysm?” the other goblin asked Bub.

“I like it,” Splat said.

“Then you take it,” Bub growled. “How far to the dockmaster’s office?”

“Six blocks,” Splat replied. “Seriously, I can take it?”

“It’s yours.” The goblins’ march halted when a towering man cloaking shadows stepped into their way. Bub came to a stop but didn’t show fear. “You want something?”

“You look like one on a mission,” the shadowy man said. “The last time your kind were so driven was nearly the end of Nolod.”

“And?” Splat asked.

“May I watch? It’s been so long since I had quality entertainment.”

Bub rolled his eyes. “Fine, but no getting involved.”

“Perish the thought,” the shadowy man said, and drifted back into the darkness of an alleyway.

“Is this normal for Nolod?” Bub asked Splat.

“Oh please, it gets way weirder than this. You know, he could have helped us. Wouldn’t have taken long to get him interested.”

Bub shook his head. “He could mess things up easy as not. That’s why I don’t work with people I don’t know. Heck, I’m not sure about you and your gang.”

“Hey, we followed these jerks when they ran from the hotel,” Splat said proudly. “We didn’t miss them when they were trying really hard to be sneaky and dropped caltrops to hurt anyone chasing them. Why, we even swept up the caltrops so nobody else would step on them, which was a very civic minded—”

“Yeah, you’re wonderful, now where are the targets?”

“Over there.” Splat pointed at a rectangular building made of cedar at the edge of the docks. There were dozens of ships moored nearby, but at this time of night nobody was around except a few lookouts on the ships making sure nobody tried to steal from them. The building was solidly built and had bars over the narrow windows. There were dim lights on inside, and they saw indistinct shapes moving by the windows.

“Is it starting?” the shadowy man asked. Splat nearly screamed at the stranger’s sudden appearance.

“Yeah, now back up,” Splat said.

“Delighted to. The others and I will give you room to work.”

“Others?” Bub asked. The little goblin slapped a hand over his face when he saw eight men and monsters sitting on a ship’s prow eating popcorn. “Great, we’ve got a crowd watching us.”

“No fear,” Splat told him. He pointed at goblins sneaking around the docks and said, “My guys are here. That means the bad guys are here, too. We can take them.”

Bub frowned. “The door and frame are oak, and those bars are steel. We’re not breaking in there without drawing too much attention from the city guard. We could wait until they come out on their own, but the longer we wait the better the chance they get reinforcements or someone shows up who’ll ruin things for us.”

Splat nodded. “Ship crews could return, and watchmen come by all the time. Don’t worry, I have a foolproof way to get inside.”

A small goblin wrapped head to toe in bandages came out of an empty barrel and scurried over to Splat. “Everyone’s ready.”

“Good work, Mummy. Tell Molly to turn on the waterworks once we’re around the dockmaster’s office.”

Mummy ran off, and Bub said, “Must have been an awful fight.”

“Nah, he’s been like that for years. Come on.”

Splat and Bub led their followers around the sides of the dockmaster’s office, close enough to reach the door in a hurry when it opened. They saw more goblins in the shadows, some sneaking in to join them while others stayed back as a last ditch effort to catch the enemy if they tried to flee. Now that they were next to the building they could hear voices inside. At first the words were too soft to understand, but the volume rose.

“We have to rescue him,” the first voice said. The voice was male, young and angry.

“You lost one man,” a second voice said. He sounded like an older man. “Go after him and you’ll lose more.”

“We don’t abandon our own,” said the first.

“You don’t know where he is,” the second man countered.

“I’ve got spells to—” the first began.

“We don’t have time,” the second man interrupted. “The authorities know we’re here. They know some of what we did. They’ll be looking for us on every ship and every road by morning. If you stop to look for him, you’ll lose all of us. One man or five. Pick.”

“They took him alive. That means they want him to talk. It gives us time to save him.”

“There is no time,” the second man replied, his voice growing louder and angrier. “You knew the day you started this that you could fall to the kings and noblemen and guild masters. There were going to be losses. Up until tonight we were lucky. He knew that, too. He won’t talk. If they force him to, we’ll be long gone before anything he says could matter. Respect the sacrifice he’s made. The truth matters more than we do. You said so yourself.”

Splat looked to Bub, who shrugged. Whatever this was about was beyond the goblins.

“We don’t have enough people to squander them!” the first man yelled.

“Be quiet or we’re dead,” the second man replied. “He’s gone, Anton, and nothing we can do is going to get him back. We lost a man and completed the mission. It’s a bad win, but it’s a win.”

“It’s not a win,” a third man said.

Anton, the first man, asked, “What?”

“I read the nymph’s letters,” the third man explained. “There’s nothing scandalous here. She wrote boring letters to friends and fellow professors. That’s it. She wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. The only thing I can find close to a truth is that Lord Bryce made lewd statements about her I’m certain aren’t true and she might sue him for it. That’ll come to light on its own.”

“But, but she’s a nymph,” Anton, said. “Everyone knows what nymphs are like.”

“A pity no one told her that, because she sounds as pure as freshly fallen snow,” the third man replied. “I copied shipping manifests from the dockmaster’s files. There might be something interesting here, but as for the nymph, she’s only got the stars and planets on her mind.”

“We could imply there’s something here,” the older man said. “Tell people the nymph’s been writing letters and let them come to their own conclusions.”

“No!” Anton yelled. The older man tried to speak, but Anton didn’t give him a chance. “We are dedicated to revealing the truth! No secrets, no lies. If we lie to the people, even once, they’ll never trust us again. The money, the risks, the friends and family members who turned their backs on us, all that pain and loss will be for nothing.”

Just then a small girl ran across to the dockmaster’s office. Bub gasped, not sure how a child could be out at such an hour in this dangerous city. The girl waved to Splat, who waved back, and she headed to the building’s door.

“What the…get her out of here,” Bub ordered.

“Relax, that’s Molly,” Splat assured him. “Most people think she’s a girl.”

“She is a girl,” Bub hissed. “You can’t be this stupid.”

Molly knocked on the door. “Mommy, I’m home.”

“Who is that?” Anton asked. His voice betrayed panic.

“Wow, you’re falling for it, too”, Splat told Bub.

“Mommy, please open the door,” Molly said. “I’m sorry I’m late, mommy. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s definitely a girl,” Bub said angrily.

“Send her away,” Anton said. Louder, he called out, “This isn’t your house.”

“Mommy!” Molly wailed. “Please, mommy, I’m cold and scared, and something smells funny! Like old poo!”

“Molly’s acting,” Splat said. “I’ve never met a human impersonator that good, and I’m proud to have her.”

“She’s drawing attention to us,” the older man said. “Get her inside and give her some food. We’ll leave her by a watch house when we go.”

“This is our chance,” Splat told Bub. “Get ready.”

“You and I are going to talk when this is over,” Bub grumbled.

The door opened and the goblins raced into action. Molly smiled sweetly at the black clad men, keeping their attention on her just long enough for them to miss the onrush of goblins until it was too late. Bub jammed a rock into the doorframe, making it impossible to close the door, and goblins ran inside. The first few goblins slipped around the shocked men before Splat grabbed the older man around the waist and pulled his pants down to his ankles. Mummy charged in and pushed the older man, tipping him over.

Bub led his tactical assault squad with military precision, swarming one of the men and pulling him to the ground. Two down, two left. Bad luck, one of them was the wizard. The wizard chanted and waved his hands, forming a shield of ice that hovered in front of him. Goblins threw rocks that bounced off the ice shield. One goblin charged the wizard, only for the shield to shove him backwards. Bub saw the other man pull a terracotta bottle from a pouch on his belt and lifted it to throw.

Thinking fast, Bub grabbed a chair from the dockmaster’s office and hurled it at the guy’s legs. It was a good hit and the man dropped the bottle. It shattered when it hit the floor, releasing a blast of flames at the wizard’s feet.
The wizard turned his shield to defend himself from the fiery blast. It protected him but melted away. Bub charged the wizard and kicked him in the shin. The wizard yelped and jumped up and down before Splat and Mummy tackled him. The last man who’d used the alchemic firebomb tried to shove goblins out of the way to escape, but overwhelming numbers dragged him down.

It was almost a clean sweep when the older man got up and knocked aside three goblins. Bub ran at him as the man tried to pull up his trousers. Bub grabbed the back of his pants and pulled them back down, only for the man to step out of his pants and run off, dressed in black from the waist up and wearing white and red polka dot boxers below the belt. The older man fled into the night, punching and kicking goblins that ran at him from alleys.

“Do we go after him?” a goblin asked Bub.

“These three could get away while we’re chasing him,” Bub said. “Tie them up and get them out of here before anyone shows up.”

“Great work, everyone,” Splat told the goblins he’d corralled into working with him. “Double shares of cheese for everyone!”

“Double?” Molly asked. Splat nodded, and Molly jumped up and down squealing.

Bub scowled and marched up to Molly. “I have to know, exactly who and what are you?”

* * * * *

“You’re sure you’re a girl?” Splat asked Molly.

“Mmm hmm.” Molly walked home with Splat at her side. She was as happy as could be going back to her family with her arms loaded with cheese. Sure, Nolod’s streets were never safe, but it was almost morning, and she wasn’t far from home. Besides, last night’s battle had been loud enough that nearby troublemakers were keeping their heads down. But just to be sure Splat was staying with her. The rest of his gang had wandered off, leaving the two of them alone.

“I mean really sure?”

“Yes.”

“Mind blown. I thought you were joking when you said you were a girl.”

“I wasn’t.” Molly wasn’t at all bothered by Splat’s confusion. The goblin rubbed his forehead and gave Molly a curious glance.

Splat squinted and then shook his head.
“I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years. What am I supposed to do? You’re the most capable goblin in my gang and you’re not a goblin!”

Molly looked at Splat and said, “You could get people who aren’t goblins on purpose. I bet oodles of people would want to be your friend. You’re nice and you keep your word.”

Splat nearly passed out from shock. “I’m nice?”

“Sure you are! You gave me all this cheese. My family will have lots to eat because of you.”

Just then the shadowy man drifted overhead, laughing hysterically before he vanished into the night. Anywhere else that would be cause for concern, but in Nolod this was almost commonplace. You weren’t allowed to live in this city if you couldn’t deal with the bizarre on a weekly basis.

Splat gripped the sides of his head with both hands. “Me nice. What’s the world coming to? Molly, I’ve got to hand it to you, you had me fooled. You know, you’re good at this.”

“Thank you!”

“I mean really good. You’re an expert at fooling people. Have you considered going into theater? Or politics? You’re good enough to be Nolod’s first lady prime minister.”

Molly gasped. “Really?”

“You bet. He can trick lots of people lots of the time, but every so often he screws up. But you? You never miss a beat. Honestly, I could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Molly!” The scream caught Splat and Molly by surprise. A woman ran across the street and scooped up the girl. “Oh, precious child! You scared the life half out of me! Where have you been all night?”

“Hi mommy! I was working for Mister Splat,” Molly said proudly. She held up the thick wedge of cheese and added, “Look how much he paid me!”

A man wearing old and worn clothes ran up alongside the woman. He wasn’t the biggest or strongest man Splat had ever seen, but the look of outrage on his face would have given a dragon pause. Splat backed up and said, “And she deserves every crumb. Ha, ha, ah nuts. You’re not going to believe this, but it was all a misunderstanding, and I can guarantee that—”

Splat ran for his life with Molly’s father three steps behind. This wouldn’t be the first time Splat had barely escaped death, but it was hardest he’d ever had to work to earn it.

It was early morning as Brody, Habbly and Ibwibble stood outside a small farm shed near Nolod, waiting patiently for things to get started. Waiting wasn’t a goblin strong point, as they were apt to wander off after anything that caught their attention, but these three were abnormally focused for their kind. Still there was only so much you could expect from goblins, and their conversation had drifted into total insanity.

“I’m glad we’re out of those black outfits,” Brody said.

“Yeah, they’re fashion nightmares,” Ibwibble agreed. “We’re lucky nobody mistook us for ninjas and tried to shoot us.”

Brody frowned. “That’s a normal reaction to seeing a ninja?”

“It’s unfair,” Ibwibble admitted, “but it only takes one ninja to mess things up for everybody. A merchant ship shows up with a ninja hiding in the cargo hold, he gets out and then it’s nonstop ninja magic and throwing stars. If you don’t roust them out the second they set foot in your city soon they’re everywhere, building dojos, having late night gravity defying martial arts battles with other ninja clans, and leaving piles of droppings everywhere.”

“You’re making this up.”

Ibwibble crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been in eight cities that have laws saying shoot all ninjas. Nolod is one of them, but it’s too late. The first ninja showed up eight months ago and now they’ve got five ninja clans.”

“That’s a massive overpopulation,” Habbly said.

“They’ll fight it out until there’s only one clan, which will have a schism and break into two,” Ibwibble said. He paused and looked more closely at Habbly. “Why are you carrying a mop?”

“The way things are going I figured I needed a weapon, and I’ve had good luck with mops.”

“You didn’t have one during our stakeout,” Brody pointed out.

“You don’t bring a mop on a stakeout,” Habbly said. “It’s common knowledge.”

“That explains why I never heard it,” Brody replied. “Somehow I only learn uncommon knowledge. Where is the secret entrance to a pocket dimension, who leads the Night Knights, what the Hokey Pokey is really all about. It never helped me.”

Habbly glanced at the shed. “Mighty quiet in there. I was expecting yelling, or at least quality groveling from our prisoner.”

“Julius isn’t talking to the guy,” Brody explained. “He’s just standing there, staring at him. Not sure if he’s waiting to see if we get more prisoners before interrogating them or if this is part of the interrogation.”

“Is this normal for him?” Habbly asked.

“Don’t know,” Brody replied. “Usually he hands guys like this over to the authorities and lets them deal with it, but that’s when he doesn’t need them to answer questions. Kinda worried this could get ugly.”

“You don’t think he’d…you know.” Habbly asked hesitantly.

“Julius isn’t like that. I’m worried the prisoners are some kind of revolutionaries. He and I ran into guys like that not long ago. You know, die rather than think things through.”

“I’ve never understood that about humans,” Ibwibble said. “Honestly, some days they don’t have the brains God gave to soap bubbles.”

All three tensed when they heard rustling in the woods near the shed, but it was only the farm owner, an older man named Richard. “How are things going?”

“Still waiting,” Brody told him.

“Is this going to take much longer? I mean, I don’t mind Julius using my shed, what with him being a hero and all, but I need a shovel from in there.”

“I’ll get it.” Brody opened the shed’s door and grabbed the farmer’s shovel.

“Send help!” the prisoner yelled.

“Not happening.” Brody shut the door and handed the shovel over. Richard nodded and left, bumping into Bub and his tactical assault squad arriving with three more prisoners.

“Shimmering Swords of Solace?” one of Bub’s goblins asked.

“No.” Bub left the bound and gagged men at Ibwibble’s feet. “There was an older guy with these losers but he got away. I think he was a co-leader or second in command. The young one is called Anton and he’s a wizard. More of a threat to himself than anyone else.”

“Hmph!” the gagged young man said.

“Zip it, Merlin,” Bub told the wizard. “The next one likes alchemic weapons including firebombs. We disarmed him. The last one is totally useless. We think he’s freeloading off the ones who actually do something.”

“Mmm,” their last prisoner whimpered.

“The truth hurts,” Bub told him. “That’s our end of the deal completed. We’ll be in Nolod for a while longer if you have another job, but I am not working with that idiot Splat ever again.”

“You did good,” Ibwibble told Bub. “Are any of them tax collectors?”

“I doubt it,” Bub said as he led his goblins away. “They’re too useless for that.”

“Right, let’s get them inside,” Ibwibble said. He, Habbly and Brody dragged their prisoners into the shed, where they found the man they’d already captured last night and Julius Craton.

“Take off the wizard’s gag,” Julius ordered. Brody pulled the gag off, and the wizard glared at the goblin. Julius tapped the wizard with his foot to get his attention. “My name is Julius Craton of the Guild of Heroes. Hundreds of innocent people were almost killed because of you. Thousands of guilders worth of property was destroyed. Bad as it was, it was nearly much, much worse.

“I need you to understand the harm you’ve done, not just in that incident but across multiple kingdoms. The information you’ve spread has ruined people’s reputations, closed businesses and resulted in serious injuries. Your victims number in the thousands. Tonight proved you got that information by stealing it. You’re thieves.”

“We’re freeing the people from secrets and lies!’ Anton yelled. “You and the other so-called leaders have blinded us for generations, holding back the truth while you profit and live better than the common man. That’s over. We’re opening the eyes of the oppressed, showing them how corrupt their leaders are. Your days are numbered, oppressor. Your kind will be cast down by the masses!”

“Excuse me, I need a rake,” Richard asked from outside the shed.

Ibwibble grabbed a rake and handed it to the farmer.

“The irony of a secret society being against secrets isn’t lost on me,” Julius countered. “You live in the shadows, nameless and faceless up until today while criticizing others for holding back private information.”

“No, this is the leaf rake,” Richard said. “I need the bow rake.”

“How many rakes does this guy have?” Brody asked.

“I count five,” Habbly replied.

Julius held up a handful of leaflets covered in writing. “I’ve seen the secrets you exposed. Most of this is harmless or personal matters. It’s gossip mongering.”

“The people deserve to know!” Anton yelled.

“The private business dealings of a vineyard?” Brody asked. “That some mayor has gambling debts? This isn’t exposing injustices, it’s junk.”

Anton’s defiance melted. “We’re working on it.”

“Yes, by stealing mail from an astronomer,” Julius replied.

Red faced, Anton replied, “We thought she was…you know.”

“In a relationship with a man?” Julius asked.
“She’s allowed to be in love! There’s no reason she should be ashamed of that.”

Brody tugged on Julius’ leg. “I think he meant in a relationship with a married man.”

Julius glared at Anton, who said, “She’s a nymph. Everyone knows what they’re like.”

Julius stared at Anton for a second before grabbing him by the collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the nearest wall. “No, I don’t know what they’re all like! I don’t judge an entire race by what some of their members do! And for someone claiming to represent the truth, you’re awfully confident making prejudice statements with no evidence to back them up!”

“Negative evidence,” Brody said. Everyone looked at him, and he explained, “Her letters are as boring as dry toast.”

“We, ah, just found that out,” Anton said nervously. “We weren’t going to print any of that.”

Julius let Anton slid back to the floor. “Four kingdoms have posted bounties on the people posting your scandal rags. I’m going to turn you over to one of them and you’ll face justice for your crimes. None of these kingdoms have the death penalty, but you spend years doing socially useful labor. Nothing you can do or say will change that fact.

“What you can do is determine whether I testify that you’re repentant and helped clean up the mess you made. That goes a long way to decide how long you’re imprisoned and what the conditions will be like. Not everyone is going to make this offer, and it’s only good for today. The choice is yours.”

Anton looked down at the floor, and when he stared into Julius’ eyes the defiance was back in full force. “There is no choice. I won’t help you undo the good we’ve done. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The Truth Seekers are divided into independent cells. The second other cell leaders learn we were captured, they’ll change all their plans, abandon their safe houses and continue their jobs. What little we knew about them will be useless. You stopped us, but the movement will go on.”

“Chuckles here can’t have too many people on board with his brand of stupid,” Ibwibble said. “I figure we’ve got at most thirty more idiots to round up.”

“It wasn’t easy finding this bunch,” Brody said. “We’ll need all year to get them.”

“My schedule is wide open,” Julius replied, “and if that time and effort means one more city doesn’t face destruction then it’s worth the time.”

“What are you talking about, face destruction?” Anton asked.

Julius was about to answer him when there was a knock on the door. Richard said, “Don’t mean to intrude, but I think we may have a problem.”

Julius and the goblins headed outside, where Richard pointed at the sky. A large white cloud was moving against the wind, pushing aside other clouds in its way and heading straight for them.

“Incoming wizard, and I don’t think he’s with Anton and his circus of idiots,” Ibwibble said.

“Why not?” Habbly asked.

“You need gobs of power to make a magic cloud that big,” Ibwibble replied. “If they had anyone that strong, why didn’t they use him a long time ago? Nah, that’s somebody else who wants Anton’s hide.”

“Run,” Julius told Richard. The farmer ran for his life as Julius and his friends spread out. “I’ve no idea who this is. Diplomacy might work, so watch your words.”

The cloud descended and began to spiral, forming a whirlwind twenty feet across. An old man wearing blue and white robes and carrying a wood staff stepped out of the cloud, as did a goblin with orange hair and red skin. The whirlwind lifted into the sky but didn’t weaken as the man marched to the farm shed.

“Pardon our interruption,” the old man began. “I am Archibald Scrace, member of the Archivists. This is Yips, who I have been unable to dissuade from following me.”

“Got any aardvarks?” Yips asked.

“Sorry, fresh out,” Ibwibble told him.

“You have in your custody four young men who were once members of my order,” Archibald continued. “They have broken their sacred vows and done considerable damage. I have come to collect them and ensure they do no further harm.”

They heard Anton call out from inside the shed, “How did you find me, old man?”

“Your defensive spells against scrying must be renewed frequently, an impossible task when you are tied up. Those spells failed early this morning, and I was able to find you.” Archibald looked like a peaceful and contemplative man under most circumstances, but there was a hardness to his voice when he added, “There is a high price to pay for the oaths you broke. I mean to see you pay in full.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t hand them over,” Julius said. “These men call themselves Truth Seekers, and there are more of them. I need answers from them to stop their damage from spreading further, and local authorities have an equal right to see them face justice.”

“Can we agree to share them?” Brody asked. “You take two, we take two and everyone walks away happy.”

“The information they know about the Archivists is dangerous,” Archibald replied. “I cannot risk them revealing those secrets to secure their freedom. Countless lives and treasured knowledge are at risk.”

“Secrets?” Anton yelled. “You mean like—”

Anton’s words turned into a stream of gibberish meaningless in every language. The young wizard laughed and said, “Oh, your precious secrets are safe, you fraud. The spells keeping us from ever telling another soul what you’ve learned are too strong for us to break.”

“But not too strong for others to break,” Archibald replied. “The danger remains. Forgive me, sir, but I must insist on reclaiming these traitors to our order. I’m aware of your name and reputation, Julius Craton, and that of your goblin associates. I wish you no harm, especially after the good you’ve done, but I am leaving with Anton and his fellow turncoats.”

Yips gazed into the sky and said, “That’s no aardvark.”

“Eh?” Archibald asked. Yips pointed at a granite pillar of rock fifty feet tall flying through the sky toward them. Archibald cast a spell and glowing words appeared in front of them. He scowled and said, “That’s Dominus Quake of the Inspired, a wizard of the foulest kind. He must not take Anton. Everyone, prepare yourself.”

The pillar picked up speed and rammed point first into the soft ground. It shattered and fragments of granite flew across the landscape, but they suddenly stopped and rotated around the man who’d hidden inside the pillar. He wore a mix of white and black clothes, with a wood staff in his right hand and glowing pebbles rotating around his left hand. The left side of his face was covered in an expensive silver mask molded to look like a twin to the handsome right side of his face.

“I do hope you won’t mind me being fashionably late, but I only sensed the stripling wizard this morning,” Dominus said casually. “I’ve been looking for him and his fellows for weeks. Dreadfully annoying. Give him to me or I’ll grind your bones into powder.”

“Never,” Archibald said.

Julius drew his sword Sworn Doom. “Brody, untie the prisoners and get them out of here.”
“But we just caught them!”

“I can’t defend them and fight this wizard at the same time. We let them go, we watch them die or we let that monster take them.”

“Too much talking,” Dominus said. “You die now.”

Dominus uttered arcane words and made strange gestures, casting a spell that made the shattered rocks rotating around him shoot forward, their razor sharp edges slicing through tall grass and small trees. The stony cloud of death had nearly reached them when Archibald ordered the whirlwind he’d created to drop from the sky. It sucked up the rocks and spat them back at Dominus, but the whirlwind broke apart under the effort

“Clever boy,” Dominus said. A wave of his hand scattered the rocks before they hit him. “I didn’t think you a threat, bookworm.”

Julius charged Dominus, covering the distance between them in seconds. Dominus caused the ground under Julius’ feet to rise ten feet. Julius kept his balance and jumped down at Dominus. Sworn Doom glowed and yelled, “Doom!”

Another pillar of rock and earth rose up in front of Dominus to shield him from the blade. Dominus’ snide smirk disappeared when Sworn Doom hacked through the pillar. Dominus raised his staff, and it glowed nearly as bright as Sworn Doom before the ground erupted around him like an explosion. The blast threw Julius back but didn’t do enough damage to stop him, and he rose to his feet.
Brody ran to the shed to save their prisoners. Anton and the other three men screamed in abject terror as they struggled against their bonds. Brody had nearly reached them when Dominus cast another spell. A wall of dirt rose up around the shed and encased it.

“No one’s leaving,” Dominus taunted. “No one’s surviving. You all just die.”

Archibald began chanting to cast his own spell. There was no immediate effect, and Dominus laughed. “Running out of power so soon, fool? I was almost convinced you-Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in order, everything’s all right. Betty stitched a-curse you, you-border, yellow, red then white.”

“What’s happening?” Brody asked.

“He’s messing with his head,” Habbly told him. “Dominus can’t cast a spell when the Archivist is forcing him to say gibberish.”

Julius recovered quickly and charged Dominus. The evil wizard dodged Julius’ sword swing, but the hero still managed to ram his right shoulder into Dominus’ stomachs and knock him over. Julius raised his sword for a swing that would kill the evil wizard, but Dominus pointed his left hand and the tiny glowing pebbles shot out and hit Julius in the chest. Two of the tiny rocks hit and exploded, throwing Julius back and cutting deep grooves in his chest plate.

“Betty stitched a border,” Dominus said as he stood up and aimed his left hand at Archibald. Pebbles around his hand flew as fast as arrows, too fast for the old man to avoid. Yips grabbed Archibald and pulled him away, saving his life but breaking his concentration. Dominus scowled and yelled, “Those tremor stones cost me a hundred gold coins, and I wasted them on an idiot like you! You’ll die for that, paper pusher.”

Dominus cast another spell and rocks flew together to form a crude stone man twenty feet tall. The stone man marched toward Julius while the evil wizard turned his attention toward Archibald. “You’re so pathetic you needed a goblin to save you. At least two of those wretched creatures were smart enough to run, unlike you. I’ll—”

Habbly and Ibwibble had run, but only into dense brush that covered their approach to Dominus. The pair leapt from the grass and ran the last few feet to the evil wizard. Dominus looked shocked, and then screamed in pain when Habbly struck him in the shins with his mop handle. Ibwibble grabbed onto Dominus’ staff and chewed on it, gnawing out a chunk of wood and spitting it out. Dominus shoved Ibwibble off and screamed a spell.

The ground shook and Dominus rose into the sky on a thirty foot tall pillar of dirt and rocks. He had a perfect view of the battlefield, where Julius hacked a leg off the stone man attacking him. Archibald had recovered and began chanting again. Then Dominus saw Brody dig through the dirt that entombed the farm shed and open the door.

“No one claims my prize!” Dominus howled. The pillar of rocks and dirt bet over to form an arch and set him next to the shed. A wave of his hand made the dirt around the shed convulse and rip the small building open to reveal the screaming prisoners. He shoved Brody aside and grabbed Anton by the throat with his right hand. “You know where the Dawn Lanter is! Tell me or I’ll bury you fifty feet underground!”

Anton’s expression changed from terror to confusion. “I, I have no idea.”

“Liar!” Dominus pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket with his left hand and shoved it into Anton’s face. “You tempt me with hints! Where it was weeks ago! Places it might have gone and people who might have seen it! No more of these infuriating clues! Where is it right now? Tell me before I—Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in—not this again!”

Dominus dropped Anton and spun around. He saw Archibald chanting again and Julius hacking an arm off the stone man. The stone man struggled to fight with two limbs missing, and a savage blow to its head ended the battle. With it dead, if it had ever truly been alive, Julius ran at Dominus with Habbly, Ibwibble and Yips following him. Dominus struggled to cast a spell and gave up in frustration when his arcane words of power were replaced with nonsensical gibberish. Instead the evil wizard pulled a glittering wand from a pocket.

“No!” Dominus spun around at the sharp cry as Brody grabbed the wand with both hands. Neither the goblin or the wizard were strong enough to win this struggle, but Brody didn’t have to win. Every second brought Julius closer, and if Dominus couldn’t cast spells or use his wand there was nothing the evil wizard could do to fight back. Snarling, Dominus let go of the wand and ran off.

“Betty stitched a border!” Dominus yelled as he fled. He went another ten feet before shouting, “Yellow, red then—curse you, you ignorant fool! You delay the inevitable, nothing more!”

Julius had nearly caught up with Dominus when the evil wizard cast a spell and caused rocks to form a stone pillar around him. The pillar shot into the sky and flew off, leaving Julius, Archibald and the goblins victorious.

“His brain got better fast,” Habby said.

Archibald walked up alongside the goblin and said, “My confusion spell has a short range. Once he was far enough away, he was free of it. We should count ourselves lucky he didn’t bring allies, or we would surely have died.”

“Cheerful, aren’t you?” Ibwibble said. He coughed up a piece of Dominus’ staff and added, “What’s he want the lantern for? And what made him think whatshisface had it? That twerp is lucky he has socks.”

Brody picked up a sheet of paper off the ground and held it up for the others to see. “He dropped this when he ran off. ‘It says no secrets! Your leaders are keeping the truth from you!”

“That’s a lot of exclamation points,” Yips said as he rejoined Archibald. “Can I have one?”

Brody kept reading aloud, saying, “The Archivists are seeking the Dawn Lantern, one of the fifty most powerful magic items on Other Place. They believe it to be in Ocean View Kingdom, Forthosia or in the city states of Nolod or Cronsword.”

“I didn’t write that,” Anton said. He sounded stunned. “There were rumors, but we couldn’t confirm anything. It was hearsay. I never wrote that! It’s a lie!”