Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set Page 15

  A small form dressed in black suddenly ran out, climbed on top of the wall encircling the ring, and ran around it, balancing with ease. It was a girl, her eyes and the top of her head covered by a black mask just like what Jace recalled from the Enchanters’ Tower. Jace leaned forward, watching the masked figure in black.

  It must be her, he thought.

  The girl in black leapt and flipped over Stanlin, stealing the surprised man’s cane in the process.

  “It’s the Black Sparrow!” Stanlin shouted. “She stole my cane! Get her!”

  The thieving girl ran up to one of the jugglers and swept the cane beneath him, knocking his legs out from underneath him. He fell to the ground. She dropped the cane as she slid into his place, juggling with the other man briefly before she redirected the balls and began pelting him with them. The juggler cried out, and the audience laughed as he tried, unsuccessfully, to dodge the balls. One struck him in the crotch. He doubled over, eyes bulging as he fell to his knees. The Black Sparrow threw her last ball, hitting the man in the head and bringing more laughter from the crowd as he fell over sideways.

  “Help!” Stanlin shouted. “We need someone strong enough to stop the Black Sparrow!”

  A roar came from across the tent as a man appeared, the same huge, muscular man Jace had seen out front. The girl yipped and ran as the big man gave chase. After one loop around the ring, the man hoisted a barrel. She rushed up the stairs to the platform and looked back. The big man followed, still holding the barrel as he climbed the stairs. The girl leapt down to land on the middle of a long board held up by two supports in the center. A roar came from the big man on the platform. Black Sparrow backed away, moving down the board as it bent lower and lower with her weight. She stopped, noticing Stanlin waiting with his arms extended, ready to grab her.

  The big man at the top of the staircase bellowed, “You are trapped now, Black Sparrow.”

  Still holding the barrel, he jumped onto the short end of the long board. His weight drove one end downward, her end springing up. She launched upward, spinning once before extending her arms. The trapeze with the man and girl hanging from it swung out. With arms outstretched, the female trapeze artist clasped wrists with the Black Sparrow, catching her.

  The three people then swung in two, widening arcs. When the second swing reached its apex, the girl in black released her grip. In a flash, she pulled the blades strapped to her thighs and jammed them into the beams at the top of the tent. When blue sparks emitted from the blades, Jace was certain.

  It is her!

  The crowd gasped as the girl dressed in black dangled sixty feet up with nothing below to save her should she fall. She then pulled one blade free and drove it into the beam an arm’s length away. She repeated the process two more times, then kicked out. Both blades came free. The crowd gasped again as she fell.

  The girl rotated as she plummeted toward the ground, her momentum taking her closer and closer to one of the tent poles. She jammed both blades into the wood, dragging them down the length of the thick post in a trail of sparks, stopping just a few feet above the ground. The big, muscular man rushed in and caught her, knocking her blades away as he scooped her up and carried her to a wooden panel with ropes at the top. He tied each of her hands to a rope and stepped back.

  Stanlin, who had retrieved his cane, held it out, shining a spotlight on the captured thief as he shouted, “We have captured you, Black Sparrow. I call upon Stiletto to issue punishment.”

  A tall blonde dressed in a shimmering green gown emerged, carrying a handful of knives. She stopped beside Stanlin. He pointed toward the Black Sparrow, who waited twenty feet away with her hands bound above her head. The blonde nodded, drew a blade, and threw. The first blade struck just below her armpit, the second below her other arm, the third just below her crotch. The crowd cheered. The blonde had two blades remaining. She threw, the first striking one of the ropes holding Sparrow captive, severing it. Quick as lightning, the girl in black pulled her arm free and twisted just before the last knife buried deep in the wood right where her chest had been. The crowd went wild.

  Sparrow pulled a knife free and sliced the other bond before spinning away. She jumped on top of a pedestal and raised her hands in victory, while the big, muscular man snuck up from behind. Suddenly, she and the pedestal were hoisted into the air. The man lifted them over his head, his muscles bulging as he faced the crowd. An impossibly tall man appeared and circled the ring. Even without the stilts Jace knew were hidden beneath his long trousers, the man must have stood seven feet tall. With the stilts, his height exceeded ten feet. The tall man came at Sparrow, who still stood on the pedestal above the strongman’s head, and swung his sword at her mid-section, sure to cut Sparrow in half. The girl leapt up and flipped over the blade before landing on her feet. He swung again, this time higher. She fell to her stomach, the blade sailing over her. He chopped down and she rolled off the pedestal, dropping to the ground and darting between his legs.

  Stanlin suddenly appeared in front of her, spinning his cane, one end shining a beam of light. “Stop!”

  She skidded to a halt and stared at him.

  “Behold this wonder, Black Sparrow. Not even you can foil this beauty.”

  He extended the cane, aiming the spotlight toward the white sheet covering the boulder. The music ramped to a crescendo as the sheet was pulled away, revealing the short man in purple. Beside him, the dull, gray stone had been transformed.

  The surface was dark and glossy with pale lines running through it, like lightning in the evening sky. The blocky, unremarkable boulder had transformed into a dragon, its wings folded, its head rearing up to strike. The detail was exquisite with hundreds, if not thousands, of scales along the outer surface.

  Stunned, the crowd fell silent, all eyes staring at the sculpture in transfixed awe. Jace gaped at the little man and wondered how he could create such incredible art in so brief a time. While shards of stone littered the ground around the stone, no tools were visible, nor had he heard any being used.

  Cheers and applause erupted, followed by shouts of praise. Everyone rose to their feet, some jumping in excitement from what they had witnessed.

  The performers all gathered together in the heart of the ring with Stanlin in the middle. The girl who had played the Black Sparrow removed her mask and stood beside the ringleader. The man in purple stood to the other side of Stanlin, while others gathered close. They all bowed as the crowd continued to cheer, shout, and smile.

  Jace had found his quarry. He now had to locate the amulet.

  20

  Flight

  Jace walked amid the cluster of spectators returning to the city. All around him, people exclaimed about the spectacle they had witnessed. Even the wizards were amazed by the show, and they appeared as stumped as anyone about the man who had created the dragon statue. While Jace was curious, his mind was focused elsewhere.

  When he drew close to the city, he broke from the pack and followed the road along the outside of the city wall. His stomach longed for food, but he set his bodily needs aside to focus on his objective. He reached the riverbank where small watercraft were moored to a series of wooden docks. To the northwest, less than a mile away, the open sea waited. A quarter mile to the south, trees covered the river’s far bank. The current was calm, the river trickling toward the sea.

  Two fishermen climbed up from one of the docks, each carrying a bucket of fish. The only other person in the area was a man at the farthest dock, bent over in his boat with his back facing Jace.

  Whistling and relaxed, as if it were an everyday task, Jace climbed down to the nearest dock and stepped into a small rowboat. He untied it and pushed off, taking a seat and gripping the oars. With long, fluid strokes, he began to row upriver.

  The trick, he had learned long ago, was to behave as if you belonged. Others hardly paid attention to anyone doing mundane, everyday tasks. People rarely cared about anyone other than themselves anyway.

  Ro
wing upstream naturally took far longer than going downstream, but luckily, the current moved slowly where the river was widest. By the time the boat was parallel to the menagerie, the sky had started darkening. He dropped the anchor. With a fishing pole in his hand and a line in the water, he monitored the activity on shore.

  The troupe camp stood between the river and the performance tent. People milled about the area as a fire was lit. Jace recognized many of the troupe members from the show – the oversized strongman, the blonde knife thrower, the towering stilt walker, the two jugglers, the ringmaster, and the acrobats. The last group became his focus. The two male acrobats appeared first, both emerging from a yellow wagon near the rear of camp. When the dark-haired girl exited the same wagon, he saw she had shed her mask and black vest in favor of a black leather coat, her dark hair flowing freely to her shoulders.

  The sky darkened until Jace was unable to see much beyond the people near the fire. Under the cover of night, he lifted his anchor and rowed to shore. The boat slid onto the sandy bank, and he jumped out, dragging it ashore so it wouldn’t float away. He climbed the bank and crept toward the camp, sure to keep the wagons between him and the firelight. When he reached the outermost wagon, he stopped and put his back to it, listening.

  Patience, he told himself, something he said often. Success came with planning, skill, and a dash of luck. The first two were within his control. He also had to admit that fortune had smiled upon him more often than not. His encounter with the girl in the Enchanters’ Tower still irked him – a rare defeat for the great Jerrell Landish.

  “Time for dinner,” a man shouted.

  Someone stepped out of the wagon he hid behind. The door closed. Footsteps and the rustling of grass followed, fading until they were lost to the buzzing conversations coming from around the fire.

  Jace circled the wagon and approached the yellow one. He knocked lightly. When nobody replied, he slid inside and began his search.

  Rhoa sat at the table between Pippa and Willem, eating while Rhett recited a story she had heard a dozen times. Rawk sat across from her. The Maker had followed her around for much of the past week. She said nothing about it since she was responsible for bringing him into the troupe. He seldom spoke when in the company of others, yet appeared comfortable when alone with her. Rhoa often found herself looking at him, wondering what thoughts hid behind those mesmerizing purple eyes.

  Rawk suddenly turned toward the bridge and stared into the darkness. Moments later, a rumble arose in the distance. It grew louder, then riders emerged from beyond the tent. More came from the other direction, encircling the camp. A man in armor and a dark cape, trailed by four similarly dressed riders, rode in and stopped between the fire and the tent.

  “Nobody move!” the man bellowed. “You are surrounded. I have a full company of armed men.”

  Stanlin stood and addressed the man. “Before you do anything rash, you had best know we are under the protection of Starmuth officials as guests of the city.”

  The man on horseback flashed a humorless grin. Rhoa noticed the lightning bolt of the Farrowen Thundercorps on his chest. Rather than a circle behind it, the bolt was emblazoned on a star. “Protected by the city guard? How quaint.”

  Juliam stood, as did the other men. A number of the men on horseback nocked arrows and raised their bows.

  Stanlin held a hand up, gesturing for the troupe to remain still. “What is this about?”

  “This is about a stolen item. We have come to retrieve it.”

  Rhoa gasped inwardly and rose to her feet.

  “What are you talking about?” Stanlin laughed. “We are performers, not thieves.”

  Stanlin’s gaze swept the troupe as he grinned, his eyes meeting Rhoa’s long enough to convey the message. What did you do? He then turned back to the man on horseback, whose face was drawn into a scowl.

  “My name is Roddem Despaldi. I am captain of the Midnight Guard, sent here by the Enchanters Guild of Marquithe. You were recently in the city, were you not?”

  Stanlin shrugged. “Yes. We performed there for many weeks before coming here.”

  “Before you departed, someone from your crew stole something from the tower.”

  The amulet. They know.

  With slow, subtle movement, Rhoa backed away, seeking a way out. Riders seemed to block every opening. She stopped when her back bumped into a wagon. With the other troupe members and wagons blocking her from view, only two of the soldiers could see her. She watched them, waiting.

  “What leads you to believe someone in my troupe stole something?” Stanlin asked.

  “The person who stole the item used very special tools – enchanted blades able to cut stone as if it were butter.”

  Panic struck, Rhoa’s heart racing as her throat constricted. Everyone would know he was referring to her blades. The guards weren’t looking, so she crouched beside the wagon. She noticed Rawk watching her with narrowed eyes.

  Will he betray me?

  Stanlin laughed. “What do you take us for? We are performers, not stonecutters.”

  “There is no need to hide the truth, Stanlin.” Rawk climbed up onto the table. “We all know who the man is seeking.” Rhoa feared the worst until he thumbed at his own chest. “I can shape stone.”

  Rhoa simultaneously was relieved for herself and concerned for Rawk. He doesn’t understand the danger. However, she couldn’t do anything to stop him without bringing attention to herself. Torn between helping her friend and self-preservation, she froze.

  Despaldi grimaced at Rawk. “What do you mean shape stone? Where are these enchanted blades?”

  With everyone focused on Rawk, Rhoa realized her chance and crawled beneath the wagon. Crawling on her elbows and knees, she scurried out the back, then crept past the rear of a mounted horse while the conversation near the fire continued.

  “I don’t use blades. I use magic,” Rawk said. “Give me a stone and I’ll show you.”

  It struck Rhoa how bold and confident Rawk sounded, unlike the insecure, quiet person she had known him to be.

  “You are a wizard?”

  “No. Merely a performer and an artist.”

  Rhoa crawled under her wagon, rolled onto her back, and fumbled for the latch. The hidden compartment opened and the necklace fell out, landing on her chest. She pulled it over her head and tucked the amulet into her tunic.

  “Here is a stone, Captain,” a guard said. “Let’s see what he can do.”

  She crawled out and climbed to her feet. With care, she eased the wagon door open.

  Jace dug around the wagon, opening drawers and cabinets while feeling around for hidden panels. He ducked past the hammocks and opened the compartment beneath the driver’s seat. Minutes passed before a familiar rumble arose.

  Horses, he thought.

  He stood and pulled back the curtain until he was able to see the people near the fire. When the riders came into view, he stifled a groan.

  Despaldi. What is he doing here?

  Listening, he heard the captain of the Midnight Guard speaking to the troupe and realized what the man was seeking. Jace frowned and wondered why the captain of Lord Malvorian’s elite guard would be after the amulet. Surely Malvorian doesn’t care about the enchanters enough to send Despaldi to Starmuth and risk a confrontation with Taladain. His mind stewed on the situation for a moment. Unless Malvorian has a stake in this game. Did he discover the contract?

  The thought left him cold. Messing with a wizard lord was beyond crazy, yet he had signed up to do just that.

  A noise came from beneath the wagon floor, and Jace froze, listening. A click echoed beneath his feet, followed by silence. The door then opened, a startled girl pausing in the doorway. He reached out, grabbed the front of her coat, and pulled her in.

  “Quiet,” Jace said in a hushed voice. “Those are dangerous men out there.”

  “Who are you and what are you doing in here?” she hissed.

  “Where is the amulet?”

>   Her eyes went wide in alarm. “Are you with them?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you want it?”

  “I have a job to do.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then a ruckus broke out in the camp.

  The look on her face changed, a fire lighting in her eyes. “Sorry.”

  Pain flared throughout his abdomen when her knee drove into his crotch. He bent with it and coughed while trying to remain quiet. An elbow struck the back of his head, and he fell to one knee. The girl grabbed something from a shelf and slipped out the door just as he reached for her.

  After regaining his feet, taking a few deep breaths over the lingering pain, he climbed out and closed the door quietly. In the firelight, he caught a glimpse of the stone-shaper standing on a table. The short man held a rock, his hands spinning and shaping it. All eyes were on him, just as they had been during the performance.

  Jace turned and ran. It was dark, clouds masking the moon. He stopped and listened. The rush of the river came from ahead, but he heard nothing else. Creeping through the grass, he moved farther from camp while searching the darkness, listening.

  As he neared the river, he spotted movement to his right, away from the city. He followed, moving carefully to avoid a twisted ankle. He would not lose her this time.

  Rawk finished shaping the stone and held it out in his open palm. It was the image of a soldier on a horse, a miniature of the man before him. The leader shook his head as if waking from a dream.