Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 26

  “Not you,” Prestin said. “We’re the hired lackies, of course we’re getting paid. I just need to know that Lady Mira, our beloved leader, isn’t in this for the coin.”

  Mira raised her hands and gestured towards the walls around her. “These walls will stay my home. That bed will remain mine. If that is what it takes to convince you my intentions are pure, so be it. I won’t take a copper of money made through this venture.”

  “You are one big sucker,” Freckles said. “He’s just trying to get you to give up money, so he gets more.”

  Prestin laughed at that. “Not a chance. She’ll put that money into the hospital.”

  “Of course,” Mira said. “I’m not in this for wealth.”

  “It is an honor then,” Prestin said, “to aid you on this endeavor. I think we can all agree that this city has been worse off without magic.”

  “I agree,” Charles replied. “Too many preventable deaths. Why just the other day I saw a man scream that he could fly and leap off a building, only to plummet to his death. He was too drunk to remember his magic ring didn’t work.”

  “You told that story before,” Freckles said. “And it was horrible back then too.”

  “Shall we go somewhere to have a toast then?” Prestin asked. “There’s much work to be done, but I feel a celebration is in order.”

  Mira smiled at that. “Afraid not. We are not to discuss any business in public. And in order to keep our operation quiet, I fear that we must not be seen in public together. I will use messengers to tell you of our headquarters, once I find one.”

  “Headquarters?” Freckles asked. “I have a place we might be able to use, if you’re interested. The Tower District has a few leftover buildings, mostly used by squatters. My old college is still there.”

  Mira nodded at that. She grabbed the emerald and handed it to her ally. “Go find the owner and buy it from them. This should be enough.”

  Freckles smiled. “Well, you won’t see me again,” she said as she took the emerald.

  Charles laughed. “If that emerald was enough to get rid of you, than I say the price was well worth it.”

  “Laugh all you want,” Mira said. “If she bails with the money, its coming out of your pay. Send a messenger once you get the deed.”

  “I’m on it, boss,” Freckles said as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “I guess the task will fall to me to…” Charles trailed off. He shrugged. “What exactly do you need me for?”

  “We need something called a front. A place where we can sell our wares to customers as they come in and out. I figured you’d be well suited to the task,” Mira said. She handed the rubies to him. “We’re in charge of the Red Triangle.” That was the name of the three districts in the upper north part of the city. The Shield District, the Phoenix District and the Sun District. The districts were nicknamed the Red Triangle because one city planner had colored all three areas with red bricks in the ground.

  “Very well,” Charles said as he examined the gems in his hand. “A front. How curious of a new endeavor this is. But I welcome the change. Anything to get away from those screams.”

  “Agreed,” Prestin said. “At least we know we’re actually doing more good than harm here. What is my task?”

  Mira looked at him squarely. “I trust your discretion and your gut. I need you to find us some clients. Businessmen who are willing to put in large orders for multiple types of Cimirite. The most we can take on is two clients right now.”

  Prestin nodded. “I might have a few ideas.”

  “Most importantly, they need to be in the Red Triangle. All of our business is to be conducted inside of these districts,” Mira said. “Eventually we’ll be able to expand, but right now, there’s about 50,000 people who could be buying from us in these three districts alone.”

  “You seem to be taking to this quite expertly,” Prestin said.

  Mira shrugged at that. This was nothing more than administration, something that she had learned how to do expertly while helping to run a hospital for the last 20 years of her life. In some ways, she thought that this would be easier. After all, she would actually have enough money to make sure that everyone got paid well.

  “Don’t mistake planning for execution,” she replied. The warnings of Elias echoed in her head. They were about to start a very lucrative endeavor. If they weren’t careful, others would try to take it from her, by force if necessary. And in the black market, force was really the only way anything was ever settled.

  Chapter 27:

  Groth had explained every last detail to his superior, Lord Elias. He gave intimate details about their travels, what obstacles they had encountered, and the demands made by Queen Loxxian. He was unsure of what to expect, but after some discussion with Erice about the matter, Groth felt adequately prepared to argue for his case.

  Elias sat in silence for a moment, shifting in his chair. The chair itself had undergone some changes while Groth had been away. No longer was Elias seated upon a wooden chair, but instead an elegant gold lined throne of sorts. The seat was higher as well, positioning Elias well above those who would be sitting across from him. Of course, with Groth’s height, they were simply at eye level, as equals.

  Finally, Elias spoke. “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.”

  “Excuse me?” Groth asked.

  Elias chuckled. “I have been waiting for some kind of opportunity to test out flexing our muscle on the Magistrate. Truth be told, with Prax under our control, there wasn’t much reason to push for any kind of legal changes in the city. Now, with Queen Loxxian’s request, we have an opportunity.”

  “And you think that we can find some way to manipulate the Magisters into voting for an ambassador? That they would so easily betray their own people?”

  “You’re always betraying something when you’re in politics, Groth. Be it your values, your friends or those who put you in charge. Men and women don’t stay in power long without realizing what that power can bring them. All we need to do is find some key individuals who want what we have.”

  “Money?”

  Elias shrugged at that. “Who knows? But this is the next big step for us anyway. Sooner or later, we’d need some kind of control over the lawmakers here. Some way to ensure that our will is carried out. Now we have room to experiment and, in the process, advance our immediate needs.”

  Groth had no words. The ease at which Elias had accepted the idea of bending the Magistrate was deeply unsettling. How commonplace was corruption within this city?

  Elias leaned forward. “Are you excited or apprehensive? You don’t quite seem to have any facial gestures for me to read.”

  “Neither. Merely stunned at your glibness.”

  “I am not being glib. Trust me, when I worked as a Magister, I saw many egregious violations of the rules as well as common decency. You’ll find it’s no different anywhere else, really. Kings are greedy bastards who take whatever they wish, a Magistrate is just a hundred or so wannabe kings who are just as greedy.”

  “And I am to believe that you were the only moral man in the Magistrate? That you were somehow different than the rest?” Groth asked.

  A darkness cast across Elias’ face. He shrank back and scowled. “I was the only moral man in that group. And what did I get for it? Not a damn thing.”

  “Holding onto your values is not nothing,” Groth replied.

  “I’d rather a bag full of gold than a bag full of ideals,” Elias said. “Because at least you can buy bread with gold.”

  “You can buy bread with copper,” Groth grumbled as he turned to walk off.

  “Yes, but you can’t buy a Magister with bread. Go find Samuel. We’ve got some planning to do.”

  “And our visitor?” Groth asked. The Snake man, Krissaw, had been smuggled in under the cover of night. The only reason Groth was even able to smuggle the Serpentine into the city was due to the city guard’s lax policies. No matter how much money ha
d been given to Markov, if the ambassador was found before he was given diplomatic immunity, the people would band together and kill him.

  Elias frowned at that. “To be honest, I’d rather not have him here.”

  Of course not. Elias most likely grew up being told that if he didn’t behave, snake people would steal him away from his parents. The fear was real and an earned reputation. Serpentines didn’t steal children too often, but the stories told from campfire to campfire gave them a fierce and deadly reputation as killers and assassins as well.

  “I do not wish him alone,” Groth replied. “For his protection and so that we don’t lose him to his curiosity about this city.”

  “I can hear you,” Krissaw called from the other room. He spoke the human language quite well, but there was no masking his thick Serpentine accent. “And I can assure you that I have no interest leaving without the proper clearance. Queen Loxxian selected me for my discretion.”

  Elias exchanged a pleading look at Groth.

  “You may stay here then, as long as needed,” Groth said, opting to pretend as if he didn’t understand the look of desperation upon the man.

  “Excellent,” Krissaw called back. “Then let us discuss foodstuffs. I am quite hungry.”

  Samuel glanced at the small bottle in his hands. A guard had been bragging about his ability to stay awake all night long and was trying to sell it to another one of his comrades. This had been by the bridge leading into the Tower District. They spoke freely in front of Samuel, knowing that he was a friend of theirs and more importantly, assuming that the potion had come from his supplies.

  “What in the hell?” Samuel mumbled. Despite the fact that the sun had finished setting across the glorious city, the blue bottle glowed with magical energy. How was this possible? There was no way that Cimir was creating this, so where did it come from?

  The heavy thumping of footsteps from a distance informed Samuel that Groth was about, most likely looking for him. He received a missive about meeting with the Stonemar, but the potion was more interesting at the moment. Had someone else found a loophole? Or was this just a fluke? Perhaps the Luminous Artifact was losing power?

  “There you are,” Groth said as he appeared at the top of the bridge, looking down at Samuel. “We were to meet an hour ago.”

  “Sorry,” Samuel said as he shoved the bottle into his vest pocket. “I got distracted by some uh, distractions.”

  “Come, there is much to discuss,” Groth replied.

  “You’re telling me,” Samuel mumbled, pressing his hand against his vest. “You’re telling me.”

  The Forgotten Fern was alive with music tonight. Beer was flowing, people were dancing and sitting in a stool atop a table was Fredlin the Potionhound, holding court. The money from the thieves guild was more than enough for him and his allies to enjoy the finer things in life. Now they were able to stay at Inns instead of inside of alleys. Beer was plentiful and not a single one of them were hungry. For the first time in years, Fredlin was genuinely enjoying himself.

  Finding the source of the crystals was easier than he had anticipated. A few copper pieces given to the right people pointed him to a flower shop where a young woman with a chipper smile showed him the back room. Cimirite was the name of the product and he could get many different varieties of spells. There were even options to custom order them, but those prices were too high for the effort.

  No, Fredlin wasn’t interested in anything fancy. Thanks to his property blend of special salts meant to liquify the Cimirite and still retain their magical properties, potions were easy to make. All he had to do was create the compound every week. Then a few hired hands would handle the rest, heating, mixing and pouring into the bottles to be sent to the guild. They bought wholesale and would handle all of the sales. That was fine by Fredlin. Sure, the Thieves were taking the lion’s share of the profits, but they were also doing all the work and absorbing all the risk. Magic was still quite illegal in Glimmer and Fredlin liked his head right where it was.

  A knocking came at the door. The tavern had been long closed, thanks to Fredlin offering the owner a handful of gold to keep the riff-raff out. The music died down and the patrons all turned to look at the big, brown doors. The knocking came again, this time more fierce than before. A sharp fear rose up through Fredlin’s stomach and he took a deep breath.

  “Open it up,” he said, waving to Crai. The old man hopped up from his chair and hobbled over to the door, unbarring it.

  “What can I help you with?” he asked as he gingerly opened the door. A gigantic stone hand shoved the door wide open, knocking the old man down.

  “Whoa, hey!” Fredlin shouted, hopping to his feet. He wobbled a little and fell off the table, all of the alcohol in his system was slowing him down a bit. The rest of his people quickly scurried behind the bar counter as a Stonemar and two men entered. “Take it easy, Crai is an old man.”

  “I am sorry,” the rockman said as he reached a hand down to assist the elderly fellow up. “I had assumed you were blocking the door.”

  “Well, we were. Now, this is a private party and we’ve paid for the night,” Fredlin said. “If you want to drink, I’d really appreciate it if you go elsewhere.”

  “He doesn’t want a drink,” one of the men said. He was wearing the clothes of the city guard. Fredlin’s heart began to race. He was being arrested. Escape plans rushed to his mind, but they were all thwarted by the fact that there was no backdoor to the Forgotten Fern.

  “Well, you got me,” Fredlin said. “Let the rest of them go, they didn’t do anything wrong.” He would need to contact a lawyer of some sort. Did he know any barristers who would take a case like this? Or more specifically, would take him on as a client?

  “We’re not here to arrest you,” the man said. “I’m Captain Markov and I run the city watch.”

  “Ah, well a pleasure, I’m uh…I’m too drunk to lie about my name, it’s Fredlin,” he replied. The other guard stood by the door and turned to look outside. Markov and the Stonemar made their way further into the bar, causing Fredlin to take a few steps back.

  “Fredlin…that name sounds familiar,” Markov said. “Didn’t you save the city once?”

  “He took credit for saving the city, boss,” the other guard shouted.

  “Ah, that’s right,” Markov said with a laugh. “You tried to convince us all that you saved us from some kind of terrible firestorm, but it was you who created it.”

  “I paid for those crimes,” Fredlin said. “And it was an accident.”

  Markov produced a vial from his side pouch and held it up. The yellowish liquid shone brightly, sparkling in the light. “Word is that you’ve found a way to create these potions. This one here manages to give you sharper senses. Better hearing, night vision, even a better sense of taste.”

  “Yes, uh, and I can see that your men would certainly have tremendous use of such potions,” Fredlin said. “I will make a month’s supply for you, no charge!”

  “And you think I’m so easy to bribe?” Markov asked as he pocketed the vial and crossed his arms.

  “I can certainly hope,” Fredlin replied. He glanced at one of the windows across the room. Perhaps he could dive through and escape on foot. Then again, the Stonemar’s arms were fairly long, there would be little trouble in catching the wizard.

  “Come along with me,” Markov said. “We need to have a little chat. I have a friend who is quite interested in how you create these potions.”

  That caught Fredlin’s attention. “The Cimirite creator?” he asked. All thoughts of escape left his mind at once. The opportunity to meet the genius who was creating the crystals was invaluable.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Markov replied. “And if things go well, you’ll find yourself with a new job.”

  “Really?” Fredlin asked. Relief surged through him and he relaxed immensely. This sounded so much better than diving face first through reinforced glass. He turned to the rest of his people, who were all
watching from behind the bar. “Relax, people. Go back to drinking and whatnot. I’ll be fine.”

  Sanderalli stood and waved at him. “Sir, do you need help?”

  Fredlin knew what she was asking, and he shook his head. “No, everything’s fine. Markov and I are good friends. I’ll be fine.” He winked at her, but she didn’t seem impressed. Instead she merely crossed her arms and watched as they walked off. It was good to know that she’d go running to the thieves guild for help, but if things went well, maybe he’d be able to get them to distribute Cimirite as well.

  Chapter 28:

  “It’s a business opportunity, pure and simple,” Cimir said as he slammed his hands on the table. “That idiot wizard has some kind of formula. He told me how it all works.”