Honor Bound

Chapter 10: Chaos

Vishni strolled past theCat and Cauldron, her fingers casually brushingthe ivy that climbed the stone wall. Her fingers traced the hiddenindentation where some of the mortar had worked loose. If Fox hadsent a message, one of the street urchins who ran errands for themwould have pressed a small flat stone into the gap. A drop of clearliquid, another of Avidan's small marvels, would reveal the messagewritten on it.

But there was no message.

A burst of laughter spilled throughthe open window. Vishni sighed. She was supposed to go right backto the Fox Den. It was too dangerous for her to be out, now thatthey knew there was a sorcerer about.

On the other hand, if she went intothe Cat and Cauldron, she'd no longer be out.

This excellent reasoning brought asmile to her face. She pushed through the door into the pleasantchaos of Heartstone's most famous storyspinner tavern.

Several people called her name asshe entered, and someone caught her hand and pulled her into thecircle of dancers forming in the center of the room.

She spent a happy hour or sowhirling and skipping to the music of a wheel fiddle and hand drum.Dancing was good. Like stories, it had pattern and purpose. It keptchaos at bay.

By the time the fiddler finished hisset, Vishni was ready for a cup of mead and a story. To herdelight, Black Svaria took the stage.

Most people in Sevrin had fairhair, ranging from pale blond to light brown. Red hair wasuncommon-or at least, it was uncommon until the City Fox's admirersdiscovered herbal dyes-and truly dark tresses were exceedinglyrare. Black Svaria's short cropped, raven-wing hair was only one ofthe reasons she stood out. She stood only slightly above averageheight, but her warrior's frame made her appear tall and imposing.And she was, beyond doubt, the best storyteller Vishni had everheard, even if the fairy didn't quite understand some of the bawdyballads that made the humans nudge each other and snicker. ButBlack Svaria was also a traditional skald who could declaim ancienttales in ringing, rhythmic speech. Oddly enough, Vishni liked thosebest.

The skald settled down, awire-strung harp on her lap, and struck a chord.

"In the depths of a winter whiterthan death, the wolves came.

"Over the frozen sea they came,running, running, too many to count.

"In the village the people ran whostill had strength to run.

"All but one: Hronolf stood tosword-greet what the wolves fled."

Vishi sank into the tale with a sighof pure bliss. After Hronolf met his destiny, she clapped until herhands tingled.

A stocky man dropped into the emptychair. He put two cups of mead on the table. "Rindor Finn orShenmist?"

"You named the cups?"

He chuckled and tipped his headtoward the group of storyspinners sitting at a table near the bar."Guess you didn't hear the talk. They say Rhendish has thenorthland's greatest bard as a guest. I've heard lots of namestossed around, but those folk say it's got to be one of those two.Rindor Finn or Shenmist."

Well now, this was interesting. Vishni hadimproved enough tales in her time to know when someone was buildinga new one from the ground up. When that happened, the real storywas not in the what, but the why.

"Rindor Finn," she said.

The man nodded. "That's what mostpeople say. It's odd, don't you think, that Rhendish isn't givingout the man's name?"

"Not really. I don't suppose theadept is obliged to provide the island with a guestlist."

"Ha! True enough. But word is he'sthinking of holding a storyspinning festival in the man's honor.Maybe he's thinking the mystery of it will be more of adraw."

"It might," said Vishni. "But morelikely?"

The man leaned in, his face alightwith interest.

"If there's any truth to the rumors,broadsheets will be posted in all the taverns and the bard will benamed. By morning we'll know if I'm right."

He grinned. "Care to place awager?"

Vishni reached into her pocket for acoin and came up empty. Odd. She'd left a coin in the boat they'dborrowed for the trip to Kronhus. Usually humans spent gold asquick as they got it. And since fairy gold did notstay spent, the coinshould have returned to her by now.

Oh, wait! She had some silverpennies in the bag Fox insisted she carry. She dipped into the bagand put three coins on the table.

The man added three coins and pushedthe pile toward Vishni. "You hold it. If there is a festival, wecan settle up then."

"I'll be there."

He raised his mead cup and theydrank to seal the bargain. As he rose to leave, Vishni caught hiswrist. She beckoned for him to lean down.

"If it's Rindor Finn, I hopeTessalyn comes," she whispered.

"Another bard?"

She beamed and nodded. "Rindor'sformer wife. They still sing together sometimes, but things usuallyget ugly. It's very entertaining."

"We can hope," he said, and strodeoff chuckling.

Vishni hid her smirk behind the meadcup. Rindor Finn, to the best of her knowledge, had never wed. Ifhe ever did choose a wife, her name would not be Tessalyn. That wasa fairy name, and humans simply could not use fairy names. If comemorning broadbills advertising Rindor Finn and Tessalyn showed upon the walls of storyspinning taverns, Vishni could know beyondquestion that Rhendish was spinning a trap.

It was a good plan, except for thewaiting part. Vishni had never been good at waiting.

She could slip into Rhendish Manortonight. Delgar hadn't told Fox about the tunnel his minors hadstarting building the day Honor returned to the adept's house. Thedwarf hadn't told her, either, but Vishni knew. Delgar wouldn'tlike her going on her own, but if she didn't tell him he couldn'tfuss.

An hour later, or maybe a littlelonger, she swung open the wooden door at the new tunnel's end. Arow of books blocked her path. She shifted one aside and peeredinto the room beyond.

The bookshelf stood in a grand hall,a room even larger and more stuffed with oddities than the publicmuseum Rhendish maintained. This, then, must be his personalcollection.

Excitement coursed through the fairyas she moved aside books and wriggled through the opening. Wherethere were curiosities, there would be magic.

She hurried past a row of portraits,giving the painting of Avidan a little wave as she skipped by. Moreinteresting was the display of elven boots, the leather as soft assilk and tooled with thousands of runes that interlocked in curvingpatterns.

Vishni found a pair that fit her andslipped them on. She picked the lock on a glass-fronted case andrummaged through the jewelry until she found a ruby bracelet thathummed with magic. That went onto her wrist. A pretty belt ofsilvery links and crystal beads draped nicely around herhips

She found several knifes that fitinto her boots and belt and pockets, several handfuls of tinybottles that still held drops of potion and echoes of powerfulmagic. Giddy now, she took a handful of roc feathers and fashioneda long, sweeping tail.

So much magic! This must be whathumans felt when they drank too much mead. No! This must be what aphoenix felt just before it burst into flame.

In some part of her mind, Vishniknew she should flee, but "should" had never been a concept thatheld much resonance for her.

So she kicked off her boots and,barefoot, sang and whirled and danced until she fetched up,laughing and breathless, against a metal gate.

An iron gate.

Vishni jolted back, as close tosober as any magic-drunk fairy could be. Angry red lines ran thelength of her arm and down the palm of one hand.

A sense of deep foreboding shiftedsomewhere under the euphoria. She turned her gaze slowly to whatthe iron bars contains.

Three imps, as dry as parchment,hung suspended from wires. They'd been posed, with their tatteredbats wings stretched in a mockery of flight.

Vishni stared in horror at the deadthings. Before she could flee, her wings popped out of their ownvolition. Their color shifted, not to suit her will or her mood,but quickly, randomly, like a thousand sunrises squeezed into ahandful of moments.

One of the imps turned its headtoward her. Red light kindled in the empty place where eyes hadbeen. It hissed at her, the sound dryer than dust.

A bony hand darted between the ironbars and its claws dug deep into Vishni's shoulder.

Frantic, she tried to peel it offwith both hands. Her wings beat the air, but instead of the airyflutter of fairy wings she heard the leathery sound of sailssnapping in a changing wind.

Her wings were bat wings!Imp wings, scarlet asmolten brimstone!

A clump of short brown curls fell tothe floor. Vishni reached for it with one bare foot and wept to seegrey skin and talons sprouting from her elongating toes.

The imp was changing, too. Life andcolor flowed back into the creature along with Vishni's stolenmagic. Golden ringlets spilled over bare pink shoulders. Madnessshone from eyes the color of new leaves.

A new horror struck Vishni.She knew thiscreature! Long ago, they'd flown together. Together they'd chasedfireflies, sung songs, plotted mischief. Too much mischief, andthen exile.

Not every exiled fairy returned.Vishni knew that. She even knew what became of fairies who dranktoo deeply of a sorcerer's magic. But those were stories, nothingmore.

For the first time in her long, longlife, Vishni could think of no horror to add to thistale.

As flesh returned to the exile'shands, the talons in Vishni's bleeding shoulder withdrew. Shewrenched herself away and ran, her bat wings hissing behind herlike malicious whispers.

Mendor, the newest member ofSevrin's Council of Adepts, regarded his new work shop with amixture of pride and dismay.

The night wind whistled through theruined wall, and one of the vats of solvent for which Muldonny wasjustly famed had fueled the explosion. It would take him years torebuild the supply.

The first order of business,however, was repairing the clockwork guards. A dozen or so had beenheaped in a corner. The exact number was difficult to ascertain,for thanks to the explosion and the battle that preceded it, noneof the guards remained whole. Mendor suspected that he'd be luckyto piece together three or four from the scorched pile of scrapmetal.

Which is why he'd been so pleased toreceive twenty new guards this morning, a gift from Rhendish. Hisold mentor had also sent a dozen devices that would enable Mendorto quickly assume the loyalty of Muldonny's remainingguards.

A clatter in the hall beyond broughta frown of puzzlement to Mendor's face. Three of the constructsmarched into the room.

"I did not summon you," hesaid.

The guards advanced.

"Stop!"

Still they came on.

Mendor dived for the box of loyaltydisks. Apparently the guards perceived him as an intruder. Heshould have thought of this. Rhendish had. If only he'd had halfthe foresight of his former master!

Two of the guards flanked him,seized him. Mendor managed to slap a disk onto one of theconstructs, but it made no difference. One of the metal guards heldhim while the other threw a chain over the ceiling beam near theremaining vat of solvent.

The new adept writhed and shriekedand cursed as the constructs snapped metal bands around his wristsand attached them to one end of the chain. They hauled him up, tiedweights to his ankles, and dragged the chain across the beam untilhe hung directly over the vat.

No inhabitant of Sevrin, much lessan alchemist, could fail to understand the reference. Eldreath hadbeen dropped into a pit of solvent.

Mendor screamed in terror anddenial.

The third guard raised its mailedhands to its head. It removed the metal helm to reveal not gearsand wires, but a beardless, familiar face.

"Volgo, why are you doing this?" Mendor pleaded. "We're both Rhendish's men!"

"Are we?"

"Yes!" he shrieked. "I owe Rhendisheverything! He trained me, he persuaded the council to give meMuldonny's seat! I'm as loyal as you-"

Horror and understanding dawned."You know I'm no traitor. It's you who've turned yourcoat."

"Never." Volgo leaned to one sideand spat. "Rhendish is a weakling and a fool. A better man hasalways owned my loyalty."

He reached into his metal tunic andpulled out a silver amulet. Mendor moaned as he realized itssignificance. Like every other alchemist, he knew Eldreath'ssigil.

Volgo gestured for the constructs tocontinue. He watched as the man was lowered into the vat. Mendorscreamed and thrashed until the solution reached hisknees.

Through it all, the surface of theliquid remained perfectly calm. When Eldreath had been lowered intoa pit, the acid roiled like an angry sea and a storm ragedoverhead. Four imps writhed on the ground, burning from the insideout as they gave the last of their magic in an attempt save theirsorcerer lord.

But none of the fools who borewitnesses realized the true nature of that magic: It was not arescue, but an illusion.

And when that illusion faded, onlythree desiccated imps remained.

Somewhere in Rhendish'smansion, a woman shrieked. Honor pushed herself up from the couchwhere she'd been resting and instinctively reached for hersword.

White-hot pain flashed thelength of her sword arm and the room swam and spun. Loss of bloodand the agonizing repairs to her arm had taken too large atoll.

But the sound of runningfootsteps was closer now, and the distant babble of voices had afrantic quality. Honor made her way to the door of her chamber andstepped out into the hall.

An apparition of evil rantoward her, tears streaming down her still-pretty face.

The revulsion Honorexpected to feel did not come. Vishni ran into her arms and clungto her like a child as she sobbed out the story of theimps.

When she was finished, theelf disentangled herself and stepped back. She frowned at the blackfurrows scoring Vishni's shoulder. "Those wounds need tending. Icould do it, but Avidan could do it better. We should go back tothe Fox Den."

"I can't! Not likethis."

"You certainly can't stayhere. Rhendish is a sorcerer."

Vishni blinked. "Well. Thatexplains a few things."

"I'll go with you," Honorpromised. "There are things Fox and Delgar need toknow."

"Then you tellthem!"

"I will, but I can't findmy way into the tunnels without you."

"I'll show you! There's atunnel opening in the curiosity room. I'll go with you part way.Tell them that I got distracted by a story. They will believethat."

"Vishni."

Something in Honor's toneseemed to penetrate the fairy's hysteria. She took a long steadyingbreath. "I'll come with you."

"There's a way to undothis," Honor said. "An elfin spell, very old and dark. You shouldbe able to reclaim your magic from the imps."

She snatched a cloak from ahook on her wall and draped it over Vishi. They hurried down to thecuriosities rooms and headed for the cage.

But the creatures weregone. Only a scattering of dust, rust colored and smelling faintlyof brimstone, remained on the floor of the cage.

Someone had gotten herefirst.

"We'll find another way,other magic," Honor promised. "But we've got to get your outnow."

Vishni raise one clawedhand to point. "This way-"

A man stepped out frombehind a cabinet, a tall fair-haired man with a narrow, austereface. He was neither young nor old, and he looked much as he hadtwo hundred years ago, when he left the forest on a mission ofdiplomacy.

Honor stared at the livingghost. And everything she'd learned about Sevrin's recent historyfell suddenly, horribly into place.

A sardonic smile twistedthe man's lips. "I see you remember me, cousin, even after thesemany years."

Honor dropped a hand ontoVishni's shoulder. "Explosions," she said. "Big ones. Rightnow."

Manic glee suffused thefairy's ravaged face. She flung both arms high, filling the roomwith an illusion of bright lights and whirlingfireworks.

It was an act ofdesperation; for a fairy on the edge of chaos, casting magic of anykind could push her over. But it had the desired effect. Guardscame running, and Honor could hear Rhendish shouting commands as herushed to protect his precious collection.

She seized Vishni's handand dragged her through the magical storm toward the bookcase."Open the door. I'm right behind you."

The fairy dropped to herknees and began to fling books aside. Honor ran to interceptRhendish. She drove a fist into his jaw and slung his limp bodyover her shoulder.

She ran to the portal,ignoring the fire in her arm, and dropped the unconscious adept tothe floor. After a moment, Vishni got the idea and helped pull himthrough. Honor ducked in after and slammed the doorshut.

She crouched over Rhendishand slapped his face until he woke up. His eyes shifted to thehalf-transformed fairy and widened.

"We need to leave," Honorsaid. "Now."

"Do we?" Rhendish saidcoolly. He sat up and brushed an imaginary bit of dust from theshoulder of his blue tunic. "And why would that be?"

"Because I'm leaving, andI'm bound to you for a year and a day."

The adept scoffed. "Youhave a strange notion of 'service.' I see no reason for me to leavemy own manor."

Honor shook her head. "It'snot your manor anymore."

"No?"

"No. Eldreath isback."