Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 3

  “But what if we get caught?” Cimir protested.

  Samuel held up a few coins and chuckled. “This should be more than enough to buy us out of prison. Relax, man, your job is to stay out of the spotlight and fulfill orders. If anything, you’re the safest. I’m out there risking getting caught. Besides, who the hell knows about us? It’s not like our customers are going to rat on us. They’re going to be in just as much trouble as we are for using magic.”

  Cimir sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Look man, what do you want out of life? Do you want to be some chump who just wanders around, looking for something you’ll never find? Or do you want to stick with me and make a fortune? What did you learn when you were with those snake people?”

  “I learned magic.”

  “And what did you learn about life?”

  Cimir shrugged. “Not much, I guess.”

  “You learned that you’ve got to make your own way in this world. Come on, they shoved you out into human society to teach you that.”

  “Is that what they taught me?” Cimir asked as he frowned.

  “We both have immense gifts. You can cast spells, and I can talk my way in and out of just about any situation. We owe it to ourselves and each other to make the most out of gifts.”

  “You mean make the most money,” Cimir scoffed. Still…in spite of Samuel’s glibness, he couldn’t help but notice just how much money they had. Every morning he would walk out to a bookstore, in the Tower District. It was a place where only the rarest of tomes were sold, for many hundreds, if not thousands of gold pieces. The shopkeeper had chased Cimir away many times, barring him from the store. With his cut of the money, he would be able to just saunter into that store any time he’d like. He wouldn’t have to stand out in the cold and just wonder what was in those books of arcane lore.

  “Yeah, well, the world doesn’t make a lot of noise for poor people. But a couple of rich fellas? We could do whatever we want,” Samuel said as he ran a few coins through his fingers. They clinked as they fell onto the table.

  Cimir sighed. This new arrangement was a risky idea but then again, what else would Cimir do? He owed Samuel a great deal and…it was hard to ignore all that money that was sitting on the table. All for a few days’ worth of work. But was it worth the risk?

  “You really think we’ll get away with this? I don’t want to end up in prison.”

  “We’ve got to try, man,” Samuel said. “The world belongs to those who say, ‘to hell with the risks!’”

  Cimir nodded at that. Risk taking was a big part of sorcery. Sometimes in order to find real success, one had to roll the dice. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  “Really?” Samuel asked as he pulled his feet off the table. “Are you serious?”

  “I am,” Cimir replied reaching his hand out to shake Samuel’s. “Let’s make some money.”

  “Oh, you won’t regret it,” Samuel said as he slapped his hand into Cimir’s and vigorously shook it. “You won’t regret any of it.”

  Cimir sincerely doubted that.

  Chapter 5:

  Elias stared into the pool of water. The Fountain District used to have a glorious pool enchanted with the finest of magics. Those who gazed into the fountain would watch beautiful images form and dance before their eyes. A fair elven maiden, prancing through the frozen tundra. A unicorn chasing after kittens. His long forgotten friends in the Eastern Country. All of those images would appear before him when he would watch the fountain. But now all that he saw was a haggard bureaucrat staring back at him.

  Voices echoed in his head as he stared. The men and women of the Magistrate, the 100 chosen to watch over the city of Glimmer, all shouted amongst each other. The vote to acquiesce to the cruel Hordes of Kalimar had been a violent and brutal affair. Two seemingly endless weeks of arguing had led to an almost unanimous vote to bend the knee to the warriors from the north. 99 had said yes and Elias alone stood as the voice of reason. As the voice of freedom.

  Now, he was free. Free from his duties, free from his esteemed job and worst of all, free from his manor. A man of prestige and power weeks ago, now he was ragged and homeless. All because he chose to uphold the values of Glimmer. But then again, he was also the only man to have refused to take money from the Kalimar’s messengers. The rest were so eager to fill their coffers. The taxation, Kalimar had promised, would not change but a small percentage would be rerouted to the Magistrate, as part of their upkeep fees.

  Bribery. Pure and simple. Kalimar’s hordes would never be able to take Glimmer with force. The walls were impenetrable, the people were belligerent and even the drunks were loyal enough to take up arms and fight back. Kalimar’s army held half a million men, but Glimmer held a population of two million men and women who were ready to fight, not because of their patriotism to Glimmer, but out of spite for bowing before anyone other than themselves.

  The laws of Glimmer were meant to preserve the people’s way of life. The Magistrate was given power to preside over civil affairs and set laws and policy. Glimmer had no kings, for kings were the enemy of freedom. Now it was all different. Hundreds of new warriors had arrived within a week of the official decision. These foreigners cared not for Glimmer’s gold, nor did they respect their customs. They cared about only one thing: ensuring that their new rules were followed. Upon their arrival, Elias was singled out by their captain, a cruel man by the name of Prax. Prax calmly informed Elias that he was no longer welcome in the Magistrate. Elias tried to state precedent and law, but Prax wielded a weapon stronger than the law, a sword. A few deep cuts to the face later, Elias found himself alone and forgotten by all of his former friends. A formal vote, ousting him for treason, had been cast taking away anything he had left.

  He sighed as he stared at the pool. There wasn’t much else for him to do now, was there? Perhaps he could travel to another land, one where rule of law was actually respected. But he was a Glimmerian at heart. He could not abandon his home. Rebellion? He was no demagogue. Perhaps the only honorable recourse was for him to climb the side of the Magistrate Tower of Judgement and leap off. But with his reputation, it would be possible that the Cityspeakers would claim that he simply slipped while going on a stroll.

  “Excuse me,” said a man as he placed a hand on Elias hand. Elias turned to face a short and stocky man. The squat fellow was incredibly bulky, his muscles looked as if they were bulging out of every part of his neck. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re to pull these fountains out. Magistrate wants to put a statue up here.”

  “Statue of who?” Elias asked, knowing the answer.

  “Just some jackass from faraway,” the man said as Elias stood from his seat and walked a few steps away from the fountain. The man let out a grunt and knelt down, grabbing the top of the fountain. With a fierce groan, he tore a chunk of the concrete lining of the fountain out of the ground, lifting it above his head. Water poured all throughout the street. A few more men walked up and began to tear the fountain to pieces with their bare hands.

  Elias’ eyes widened as he watched the men work, free of tools. “H-how?” he asked the foreman, who was overlooking the operation. “How are they doing that?”

  “They eat a lot of protein,” the man replied, slapping Elias on the back and chuckling.

  “Magic!” Elias gasped. “That’s the only way.”

  “Nah, they banned that, remember?” the foreman said. “This is just good old fashioned construction. Now beat it. We need this whole area cleaned up for the statue.”

  Elias wanted to stay and inquire more but knew that it wasn’t too good of an idea. The men were easily lifting hundreds of pounds of rock as if it were nothing. Barehanded, they were destroying thousands of years of Glimmer history. All so they could place some terrible statue of Kalimar. He needed to know how this was happening. How was magic still functioning in this city? If he could find the answer, then perhaps…perhaps his city still had a chance of fighting back against the corruption.

&
nbsp; Chapter 6:

  “We’re looking at a plague, sooner or later,” Lady Mira whispered as a few men walked past her. She and her superior, Doctor Francis, were walking through the slums, administering what few medical supplies they had left. The crystal in the sky had stolen all healing items they had, leaving the Hospital of St. Jarick with little more than salves and poultices made out of dubious homemade remedies.

  “Glimmerians are a healthy stock,” Doctor Francis replied. “Plagues don’t find us easily.”

  “Because of the many spells that ward them,” Mira said as she knelt down to inspect one of the women lying in the gutter. Many of the people in the Golden District lived in the streets because they were too sick or too drunk to work. This woman was barely able to respond to Mira’s touch, shifting and moaning. Fortunately, she was not ill with any terrible disease, but rather she was simply drunk off her ass.

  “I ain’t paying no cover fees,” the woman groaned, idly swiping a few hands at Mira.

  “What do you want me to say?” Francis asked. A ten year old boy ran up to him and stretched out his hand. The doctor searched his pockets but found nothing to give the kid. “Sorry, friend. Another day?”

  “If I make it to another day,” the boy replied as he scampered off to join his disappointed friends.

  “I want you to tell me you have some kind of plan, for an epidemic,” Mira asked. “Please.”

  “Medicine men from the south, men who eschewed magic in favor of something they call medical science, that’s our best option. I’ve sent for them, but… it would take a lot of money to convince them to stay long-term.”

  “Why would they ban all magic? Including medical magic? Healing spells, potions of curing disease. All of it, gone! And for what? For some kind of superstitious idiot ruler?” Mira grumbled. “A lot of people are going to die in this city.”

  “That’s the trick,” Francis said. “Back when I was fighting for the Mad King’s men in Iola, we used to disrupt medical routes. We’d attack crates full of potions meant to heal injuries. The enemy scoffed, they didn’t fear being wounded. They thought they’d kill us easily enough so they barely protected their healing potions. But those crates carried potions that stopped sickness too. Three weeks fighting in the jungle, an outbreak of the Violent Quakes hit them. 3 out of 4 men were waylaid, unable to walk or fight without violent spasms overtaking them. No potions to heal them. We made short work of them and the Mad King added another territory to his roster.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” Mira asked.

  “It’s the same thing with Kalimar. He’s not superstitious. He has half a million men, but controls sixteen vassal states. Banning magic seems like a small order, but the first plague that hits will saw this population in half. Then we’re far less of a threat.”

  “So, you’re saying he wants us all sick?”

  “Sick but still able to pay his tribute,” Francis chuckled. “An old-school tactic. But it works wonders for keeping populations low.”

  “What an evil man,” Mira said as she shook her head. She took the last of her healing salve, a simple compound meant to alleviate symptoms of the flu and bent down to a man in a cot. His eyes were shut, and she could see the beads of sweat upon his forehead. Carefully, she smeared the salve across his head, hoping that it would help with the fever.

  “I am not one to judge evil,” Francis said.

  “You say that now. But those bracelets around your wrist will not insulate you anymore,” Mira said. “When you lay dying of some pox, will you curse the name of Kalimar?”

  “I will curse the name of the Magistrate who sold us out,” Francis said with a chuckle. “Provided I am still sane. Come, there is work to be done at the Hospital.”

  Lady Mira sighed. She would utter a pray to Saint Jarick all evening, in the hopes that the great healer would send someone to the city who could help. Or at least that the hospital would receive a large enough donation to bring in medical scientists. Time was of the essence. Glimmer was only one sneeze away from a catastrophe.

  Chapter 7:

  The music of the tavern was rather lively, Samuel thought as he entered the bar. The Forgotten Fern was one of his favorite haunts, the drinks were cheap and the company was good. The bartender, Sali, had plenty of connections; usually to people who had by now all grown sick of Samuel and his many schemes. But tonight, wasn’t about finding more business. With the five hundred gold coins in his pocket, he had a different plan in mind. Tonight, he was going to relax and enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  Cimir, as usual, had refused Samuel’s invitation to join in the libations. The boy was a recluse and no amount of arm pulling would get him to agree to such an outing. What a shame.

  “There’s a face I haven’t seen in a fortnight,” Sali said as Samuel sat at the bar counter. Sali was a short woman, with fiery red hair and hundreds of freckles upon her face. A gnome, she had emigrated from the dark mines of what humans mockingly referred to as the Gnomeland, although the true name was lost to Samuel. She had arrived at Glimmer with a few pockets full of diamonds and within a month had her own tavern operating. She opted to open a bar in the poorer side of town because the property taxes were lower.

  “Did you miss me?” Samuel asked.

  “I certainly missed you paying your last tab,” Sali said as she put out a hand. “Pay up or get out. You promised me you were good for it and – “ her words were cut off as Samuel dropped two gold pieces into her open palm.

  “Keep the drinks flowing, will you?” he asked, smiling at her roguishly.

  Sali frowned as she inspected the gold. “It’s real…” she mumbled. “I don’t get it. How’s a schlub like you have gold? You’re worth 5 copper at the most.”

  “I’ve found gainful employment,” Samuel replied. “Now how about those drinks?”

  “Fine, beer?”

  “Malrician Ale, please,” Samuel said as he watched the gnome prepare his booze. A worried look was cast across her face and it was clear that she was holding her tongue. “What is it?” Samuel asked.

  Sali placed the beer on the counter and shook her head. “Look, it’s none of my business but…you didn’t steal this did you?”

  “Why do you assume that my newfound wealth would be stolen?” Samuel asked as he took a sip of the beer. Malrician ale was a specialty, rather expensive but incredibly delicious. In the Hinterlands, explorers would bring it along to keep them nourished and warm.

  Sali shrugged. “You’re a scamp and a goof-off. I’ve never seen you once try to work a day in your life. The only way you could make this kind of money is if you stole it from someone or maybe you just found a bag of gold on the side of the road. Either is more believable than you having gotten a job. And besides, what kind of job pays in gold? You in the Magistrate now?”

  “Better, I’m an entrepreneur. I specialize in selling exotic items. But rest assured, I am certainly no criminal,” Samuel said. He paused for a moment. Technically, he was selling banned magical items, so he was a criminal of sorts. “Well, not a thief, anyway,” he quickly added.

  “Suit yourself,” Sali said with a shrug. “But I better not have the city guard show up around here to arrest you. The Forgotten Fern is a law-abiding establishment.”

  “Sure, and the Serpentine liquor you keep in that secret hatch is totally legal, right?” Samuel asked as he winked at her.

  Sali frowned. “The only reason Hissara is illegal is because the Glimmer Brewers Association would go out of business if they didn’t ban the easy to make recipe. And besides, that bottle is for special clients only.”

  “Well, consider me a special client,” Samuel said as he placed two more coins on the counter. “And pour me a shot.”

  “Keep this up and you’ll be poor by the end of the night,” Sali said as she scuttled to the secret hiding place of her illicit booze.

  “Oh, I hardly doubt that…” Samuel said, knocking back the beer and letting out a chuckle. This was exactl
y the kind of life he could get used to.

  Samuel Goldenwine had never been more drunk in his entire life. Hissara was unreal in both taste and apparent strength. He staggered a bit as he tried to make his way home. The lights were dim, either because the city watch didn’t bother to light the street torches or because his vision was completely shot. Each step was unbelievably difficult to achieve.

  “Come on, you can do it,” he mumbled as he stopped to lean against a wall. This was probably not the best way he could be spending his time, he knew. Then again, he didn’t quite care because he was incredibly sauced.

  “Need a hand?” said a warm voice. Footsteps echoed as Samuel glanced up to see a man in a black jacket waving to him.