“Maslin, I need to speak with you.”
The voice was Randall’s. It popped into Markwood’s head as he strolled the main hall of the college of magic. As soon as the old wizard recognized the speaker, he knew something was wrong. Sending mental messages from one mage to another was not a common practice because one never knew, without taking precautions, who else or what else could be listening.
“Where?” Markwood whispered as he marched up a flight of stairs to his office.
“The Twelve Chairs,” was the mental reply.
Markwood reached his office and shut the door behind him.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said out loud.
There was no reply. None was needed. The meeting had been set.
***
The Twelve Chairs pub was a common gathering spot of wizards for two reasons. First, the pub was along Mages Way, a major road running from the west through the north side of Bond and ending in the east at the University of Ursia. Many of the town’s wealthier mages, most professors at the university, lived along Mages Way, which was how the road had gotten its name. The second reason so many mages enjoyed the hospitality of the Twelve Chairs was because a permanent spell of protection had been placed over the establishment. This spell blocked nearly all forms of magical spying. Only the most powerful of wizards would be able to break through the spell over the pub.
The Twelve Chairs was a jovial place, small but often full of students and the occasional professor. The place had its name from the twelve padded stools that fronted its long polished counter, those stools apparently having some secret history about which no one knew anything, the secret lost to time. There were no other seats in the establishment. Several tall tables were scattered about the main room, but there were no other places to sit except at the bar.
At four bells in the afternoon, Markwood rushed through the front door of the Twelve Chairs, his robe flying about him. In the dim room he could make out a pair of students whispering together over a pint of beer at the nearest end of the bar, but at the far end sat a lone young man who appeared to have much on his mind.
“Randall,” Markwood said as he approached.
“Maslin.” The healer helped the wizard to a seat next to him.
The Chairs’ bartender approached.
“White wine,” Markwood said quickly to get the man away from them.
Randall nodded. “The same.”
The bartender moved away.
Markwood turned slightly on his stool to better see his friend. “What has happened?”
“Someone found the ring.”
Markwood’s eyes widened. “Do you still have it?”
Randall patted a pocket of his white robes. He had not taken the time to change out of his healing garb.
The old wizard glanced from the pocket back up to the healer. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure they got the shock of their life.”
“What happened?”
“The ring has an alarm ward cast upon it,” Randall said with a tired sigh, “a rather nasty alarm ward which my father cast. It induces pain in the rightful owner. At first I thought I was having a heart attack, then the person must have released the ring. As soon as I had my wind back, I realized what had happened. I rushed back to my room and found the ring where I had left it in my desk.”
The bartender suddenly appeared in front of them with two glasses of white wine. The two mages were quiet while their drinks were placed before them, but then the bartender was gone. He was a smart bartender, knowing when he wasn’t needed or wanted.
Markwood paused only long enough to lift a glass. “Where were you when struck by the pain?”
“I was in a recovery room, casting on Trelvigor.” Randall blinked, thinking. “No, wait ... I was with Trelvigor, but I had finished for the day. Belgad’s man Stilp came into the room and asked me about the wizard, then he wanted me to take a look at a bad leg of his.”
“Is that when it happened?”
The healer nodded. “I was down on one knee checking the leg when the attack came. Stilp wanted to find me another healer, but I had to get to my room as soon as possible.”
“And no one was there.”
“I got there as fast as I could, but I was still shaken from the warding spell. Anyone in the room easily could have fled before I arrived.”
Markwood took a sip of wine. “It’s odd they didn’t take the ring.”
“They might have tried,” Randall said with a slight grin, “but they probably received quite a surprise. The ring can protect itself.”
Markwood took another sip then set his glass on the counter. His face grew serious. “You have to assume Belgad will know about the ring.”
Randall had not touched his own wine, and now moved his glass aside. “What makes you say that?”
“Stilp being there when you had your attack. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Will Belgad know what the ring means?” Randall asked. Then he shook his head. “Of course he will. The man’s from Dartague.”
“He won’t know how you obtained the ring. He has nothing of which to suspect you. What he will do, however, is try to use the ring to his benefit, financially or otherwise.”
Randall nodded. “I could have much to fear from this man.”
“Not immediately,” Markwood said, sliding his glass off to one side. “Belgad has no ties to Kobalos of which I know, and I don’t believe he’s foolish enough to try and build such ties with Verkain. It will take him a while to decide what to do.”
Randall turned a pained gaze upon his friend. “Is it time for me to leave Bond?”
Markwood stared at his glass of wine. There were too many uncertainties. He didn’t know for sure if an agent of Belgad was the one who found the ring, but what he did know made him suspect as much. Regardless of who had seen the golden band, what could they do with the information?
“I think you are safe for the moment,” the wizard finally said. “I see no manner of profit for Belgad in trying to use whatever information he can surmise about you and the ring. He is not going to contact Kobalos, and if he told someone here it would not matter, at least not locally. A number of local officials would likely welcome you.”
Randall grasped the glass before him and sucked down a good gulp of wine. The alcohol was refreshing as it rushed down his throat. He was still drained, and his nerves were at their end. The drink helped, but Randall knew he couldn’t afford to let his senses get away from him.
He returned the nearly empty glass to the bar. “What if it wasn’t Belgad?”
“If Verkain knew you were here, we would not be having this conversation.”
Randall nodded again. The old wizard was right.
“Come back with me to my office,” Markwood suggested. “I’ll place wards around you. You should be safe from any magical eyes and the wards will help keep you safe from physical dangers.”
The offer did not improve the healer’s mood. “It wouldn’t be enough against Verkain. It would never be enough. But I’ll humor you.”
As he finished the last of his wine, Markwood was thankful Randall wasn’t going to argue with him about the protective wards. It was true the spells might not be effective against someone as powerful as Lord Verkain of Kobalos, but someone like Belgad could be hampered quite a bit by such magics.
Before leaving the Twelve Chairs, Markwood made up his mind he would do some spying of his own. If he should find out Belgad was the one involved in finding Randall’s ring, then he would deal with the Dartague personally. It was safer for Randall if the young healer were not involved. The less contact he had with Belgad the better.
***
Belgad watched as Stilp and Spider retreated from his library, then turned his attention to the only other person remaining in the room. “What do you make of this development?”
Lalo stood in his usual spot by the door nearest his master. “There are two possibilities. Either Randall Tendbones has stolen the ring, or he is a member of the Kobalan royal family.”
“None of this tells me if he is Kron Darkbow.” Belgad grimaced. “It only confirms the healer is Kobalan. However he came upon this ring is irrelevant.”
Lalo raised an eyebrow. “Even if he is Kobalan royalty?”
Belgad paused, staring at his servant. A Kobalan royal in Bond would be unexpected, mainly because there were so few living Kobalan royals. If Randall were truly royalty, why was he a lowly healer and not living the life of a diplomat or a traveling prince?
Years of Belgad’s time had been consumed with running his own empire within Bond. The lives of a royal family far away had held little import to the Dartague. He mentally cursed himself for not being more aware of foreign events. “What is the current situation with Kobalos?”
“Verkain continues to rule as overlord,” Lalo explained. Even if the lord of the manor did not remain aware of current new, it was part of the Finder’s position to be abreast of such matters.
Belgad’s gaze turned thoughtful as he pondered his own past. “The man had an iron grip on his nation even when I was a boy.”
“Longer. Historians record Lord Verkain as ruling Kobalos for nearly two hundred years. Some suggest the name Verkain is merely a title that has been passed from generation to generation. Other writers believe Lord Verkain is a powerful mage who keeps his youth through dark magics.”
The northerner’s gaze darted to his employee. “What of his family?”
“His last wife allegedly died giving birth to a son about twenty years ago. They had two sons. Both princes were reportedly killed by their father during a rebellion several years ago.”
“So there is no royal family?”
“None of whom anyone is aware.”
Kobalans were rare outside their own nation, Belgad knew, but that was because they were not allowed to leave their homeland. Verkain gave permission for his nation’s citizens to remove themselves from the homeland only when they were on a military campaign, of which there had been few in recent years. The East Ursians and the Prisonlands to the south of Kobalos kept that nation in check, which was one reason the Prisonlands had been created in the first place sixty years earlier.
Belgad focused on what he knew of Randall Tendbones. The healer claimed to be Kobalan, and now there was evidence to that. Also, Randall had arrived in Bond roughly three years earlier. Could Randall be a refugee from the rebellion? Had he fled across the Prisonlands or west through Jorsica, then making his way south through Caballerus and into West Ursia, finally settling in Bond?
The Dartague slapped a hand on the desk. “Damn. Whatever this healer might be, we have no evidence he is Kron Darkbow.”
“But he is still someone of interest.”
Belgad nodded. “Of course. It could be unfortunate for the healer that he has fallen under my eye, but it is what it is. We must keep a watch on him, even if there is no connection to Darkbow.”
“I’ll put Stilp on it.”
Belgad waved off the man. “No. Have Spider take care of this one. He knows enough about the healer to be wary, and Stilp is too well known to Randall.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Lalo turned to leave.
***
Upon rising from bed the next morning, Markwood had a breakfast of crushed oats with a mug of goat milk. It was not his usual hardy breakfast, but he did not want his stomach heavy for the early tasks he had planned.
After a warm bath heated by his own magic, he changed into the dark purple robes that were proper to his position as a professor in the University of Ursia’s College of Magic. Then the old wizard made his usual morning walk from his home on Mages Way to his offices on campus. The first few minutes in his main office were spent taking care of minor paperwork and answering questions from the few students who arose before the morning bell tolled.
Once the wizard had taken care of his typical morning tasks, he sequestered himself in his private chamber and proceeded to use a piece of chalk to draw a circle on the stone floor. Markwood sank into the circle on crossed legs and closed his eyes. He meditated, blocking the outside world to his senses while opening the inner world of his mind.
It took only a matter of minutes to find the face he was looking for. It was the face of a man in his early thirties. He was short and slim with a head of graying hair atop a rugged face.
“Spider.” Markwood knew the man. Spider had been a student at the university a decade earlier.
The wizard allowed his mind to expand further, and eventually the image of a bald head with a squat nose above a white mustache appeared.
“Belgad.”
Markwood opened his eyes.
***
“Master Markwood.” Belgad extended a hand as he rose from behind his library desk. “It is not often I have the pleasure of such esteemed company.”
The wizard took the sturdy hand and shook. “Thank you for seeing me, Master Belgad.”
The northerner returned to his seat and motioned for Markwood to take one of the chairs facing him.
The wizard sat, but turned slightly in the chair so he could still see Lalo the Finder standing near the door.
Belgad placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his hands beneath his chin. “My servant informed me you wished this meeting today.”
Markwood nodded. “I apologize for taking time from your schedule. I realize we have never been formally introduced.”
“We have both often attended the same public functions.” Belgad offered a polite smile, which almost looked out of place beneath his short, crooked nose and steady gaze. “In fact, I believe you were at my festivities several days ago.”
“Yes. It was an ... entertaining affair.”
Belgad’s face hardened. His grin remained, but it was now faked.
The wizard sat forward in his chair. “You are a busy man, Lord Belgad, and one rumored to waste little time on foolish endeavors, so I will get straight to the point. Randall Tendbones means you no ill will, and I would be disturbed to hear if harm should befall him.”
Belgad’s eyes flashed to Lalo’s, both men’s minds suddenly filled with a thousand questions.
After a moment, the lord of the house regained his composure. “Why would I have interest in the healer, other than his ministering to my clients?”
“One of your clients, a former student of mine, only yesterday entered the private quarters of Randall Tendbones at the healing tower in the Swamps,” the old wizard said, his face remaining impassive. “Inside those quarters your client came upon a ring. I am guessing you have much interest in this ring, and possibly in Randall himself.”
Belgad’s lips smiled again beneath his mustache and his eyes shifted to Lalo once more. This time the look on his face was one of mirth.
Belgad looked back to the wizard. “I wish I could hire you on my staff, but I doubt I could afford a man of your scruples.”
The old mage gave a grin of his own beneath his gray mustache. “My interests lie elsewhere, but the offer is appreciated.”
Belgad chuckled. “You know about Spider and the ring, but what else do you know?”
“I suspect you have Stilp and Spider spying on Randall because you believe him of being Kron Darkbow.”
Now it was Belgad’s turn to nod. “Very astute, but in truth I don’t believe Randall is Darkbow. The surveillance was merely a precaution. Randall admits to being Kobalan, after all.”
“And Darkbow wears black. Very Kobalan.”
“True,” Belgad said, lowering his hands so there were flat o the desk, “but I promise you I have no plans to harm or harass the healer.”
The wizard sniffed. “That is all well and good, but you have uncovered this matter of the ring.”
“I’m sure it is worth a small fortune, but I have no need of another’s gold.”
Markwood frowned. “Don’t play me a fool. You know exactly what that ring signifies.”
Belgad sat back in his chair and stared out a window to the front lawn beyond and the edges of the Swamps beyond that. He knew what the ring meant, but he did not know what it meant for him. He had seen no easy, subtle way to turn a profit from the ring, and the healer Tendbones did not appear to be any threat.
“Your friend is a conundrum,” Belgad said, keeping his eyes facing the window and the view outside. “He claims to be Kobalan, even has this ring, yet he’s a healer in our city. None of that makes sense. What is he doing here? And why in the name of the ancients is he a healer? A Kobalan healer. It’s like a crude joke you’d hear in a tavern.”
“Nevertheless it’s true.”
Belgad swiveled to face the wizard again. “Master Markwood, I do not know what you want of me. I have told you my reasons for watching Randall and I have told you I mean him no mistreatment. What else need I say or do to ease your mind?”
The wizard’s face showed he was not appeased. “I want to know what you plan to do now that you know of the ring. That is more important to me than your business with Kron Darkbow.”
Belgad held out his hands as if making a peace offering. “I have no plans.”
“Don’t give me that,” Markwood said, his voice grating. “You might not have anything in the works, but a man of your reputation would not allow something like this to pass.”
Belgad sighed. His reputation, fairly earned as it was, always preceded him. “I cannot claim to know any actions I will take in the future,” he said slowly so the words would be fair and would sink in well, “but I give you my word as a knight of the Western Church that I have no plans to harm Randall Tendbones.”
“You expect me to take the word of a man known as ‘the Liar?’ ”
Lalo gasped.
Belgad raised an eyebrow. He did not detest the appellation he had earned in the fighting pits of Bond, but he did not appreciate its use in front of him. Belgad had found rare reason to lie in his life. The truth was often more harmful.
Belgad gritted his teeth, then exhaled. “I have nothing else to give but my word. Further promises will profit you nothing.”
Markwood knew what he was doing. He was pushing this northerner. He wanted to push this northerner. He had to make Belgad realize he was serious. “You know my feelings on Randall, then?”
Belgad nodded.
“And you know who I am,” Markwood added. “You know I can bring hell’s fire down upon you if I should wish.”
The Dartague appeared surprised. “You stoop to threats?”
“Not a threat, not even a warning. I am simply making you aware that I have considerable power at my disposal. I am not just some feebleminded professor.”
Belgad sat stunned for a moment. Then he half turned so he was staring out the window again. “I believe we understand one another.” He waved a hand at the door.
“Thank you for your time.” Markwood stood. He lost no time in exiting the room.
After the wizard was gone, Lalo approached his master’s desk. “I can’t believe he would speak to you in that manner, Lord Belgad.”
Belgad sat back and rubbed his chin. “I still wish I had him on staff. The man could tell me a thousand things in a day. I need to find myself a proper wizard. Trelvigor might be looking for another job very soon.”