Renegade Wizards

CHAPTER 10

We start petty,” Ladonna said.

The Labyrinth Market was a sprawling, open square in the Old City pinched between the verdant grounds of the Royal Gardens to the south and the Palanthas Trade Exchange district astride the docks to the north. To the immediate southeast lay the Great Palace, its spired towers emerging from a small forest of trees. Farther south, past the Royal Gardens, rested the haunted Shoikan Grove and the tri-horned minarets of Palanthas, the Spire of Lore and Doom. It was a crumbling edifice, centuries abandoned and inviolate even to its rightful owners, the Wizards of High Sorcery. If they could not enter it, much less pierce the Shoikan Grove that protected it, what hope had the city of tearing down such a dark stain?

Instead, the Tower of High Sorcery remained, and the people learned to ignore it as best they could. That included those in the so-called Labyrinth-an open square by night but by day, a maze of vendors and merchants who arrived to compete for space. With a small flagstone settled, they sold their wares on open blankets and from carts. It was a communal market, the pathways never set from one morning to the next, the vendors and their wares ever changing. Every day in the Labyrinth was new and fresh, filled with the possibility of exploration.

“All thieves start petty, becoming more comfortable with thievery as time goes on,” Ladonna said. “For you two, though, we do this to build up your courage and because we must build a reputation. We cannot appear from out of nowhere. We must show a growing daring.”

The first test of thievery was a simple one. Ladonna would distract the cart owner while Par-Salian filched an apple from one of his baskets. Should the cart owner see or give chase, Tythonnia was to help whoever was in most danger using the most subtle magics available to her.

As planned, Ladonna went to distract the cart’s owner by dropping her cloth sack in front of him. When she bent down to pick it up, her breasts pressed against the loosened braces of her doublet. The man’s attention immediately focused on the delicate curve of her bosom, and he missed Par-Salian’s pass at his cart.

Tythonnia’s gaze flitted to Ladonna’s chest, but she was surprised that the sight did nothing to titillate her-a thought which troubled her even more. But as quick as that, Ladonna straightened, shot the cart keeper a shy smile, and walked away. Tythonnia glossed over her own concerns and went to rendezvous with the others. When they gathered again, Par-Salian showed them the apple he’d nicked. Ladonna and Tythonnia smiled and congratulated him, but Par-Salian could only blush in reply.

“Please,” he said. “May I return it?”

As quick as a magpie, Ladonna plucked the apple from his hand and took a juicy bite out of it.

“Not anymore,” she said, smiling and chewing. “But here’s the good news: it’s Tythonnia’s turn now.”

They spent two days in the Labyrinth, stealing small things here and there, always under the watchful eye of Ladonna. Par-Salian’s guilt slowly diminished, though not entirely, and Tythonnia found herself enjoying the tasks more than she cared to admit. But then Ladonna decided to change the rules on them. As Tythonnia approached the cart on one occasion, Ladonna again provided the distraction, tripping and falling into the chubby merchant’s arms.

Tythonnia didn’t even break her stride as she picked up a wooden statuette from his blanket. Ladonna pointed at her, however, and cried, “Thief!” The shocked merchant immediately turned on her.

Tythonnia froze at Ladonna’s outcry, standing still long enough for the merchant to grab her wrist. The merchant squeezed and forced her down to one knee. Ladonna vanished into the crowd again.

“Steal from me, will you?” he roared. He raised his other hand and backhanded Tythonnia across the face. The blow stung her cheek and split her lip. Before she could register the blood that spilled from her mouth, however, another blow caught her in the jaw.

“Please, stop,” she shouted. “I’m sorry!”

The man clenched his fist, preparing to beat her, when he suddenly froze. His eyes went vacant, and before Tythonnia realized what was happening, Par-Salian was pulling her from the merchant’s grip. He shoved the merchant hard enough to topple him to the ground. That shook him from his stupor. The merchant suddenly came to life again and struggled to rise, but by then, Par-Salian was already pulling Tythonnia away through the crowd. She staggered and he tugged hard enough to produce a yelp of pain from her.

After their escape, Tythonnia and Par-Salian arrived at the edge of the Royal Gardens where two white fir trees bent toward each other to form a natural arch to the maze of pathways beyond. Ladonna, however, wasn’t there, which was just as well. Tythonnia was ready to murder her. Her skin was hot with shame, and the most venomous anger she’d ever experienced took hold of her. She could barely think. She wanted to sink her teeth into Ladonna’s neck; she wanted to cry, scream, rage, hurt, punish.

“Why?” Tythonnia said. It was the only question she could think to ask. She didn’t dare ask more. Already her throat ached, and she knew that to speak was to start crying. She refused to cry in front of anyone and felt angrier for being brought to that state.

“I believe-” Par-Salian began then he caught her glance. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you wish to talk-”

“No,” Tythonnia growled. Her eyes misted and she scraped away the tears with her forearm.

Par-Salian said nothing. They waited a few minutes in silence while Tythonnia paced. “I’m going,” she finally said.

“Where?” Par-Salian asked.

“The inn,” Tythonnia said, again feeling that overwhelming ache in her throat and that mist that covered her eyes.

Par-Salian kept in step with her, not saying a word, for which Tythonnia was grateful.

They arrived at the Wanderer’s Welcome. Tythonnia stormed up the wood stairs, her anger and frustration building with each step, it seemed. She brushed by a man with sea-blue eyes with nary an apology, not that he stopped to ask for one. By the time she reached Ladonna’s door, she was ready to break it open. Only Par-Salian’s quiet and steady encouragements not to jump to conclusions kept her from doing so.

Instead, Tythonnia hammered on the door and was surprised when it swung open under her barrage. Ladonna stood on the opposite side of the room, ready to meet her. That was all it took for Tythonnia’s world to turn red. Her vision narrowed, the edges turning black until she was staring down a dark tunnel. The only person she could see, the only person that mattered was Ladonna, and in that moment, Tythonnia absolutely hated her beyond sense or comprehension. She loathed her, wanted nothing more than to hurt her the way she’d been hurt.

Tythonnia rushed through the door, her fingers aching to encircle Ladonna’s throat. Ladonna, however, opened her palm to reveal a piece of wool. It was only in the dim recesses of Tythonnia’s mind that she recognized the reagent, though in her present state, she was hard pressed to remember what spell it accompanied.

“Capik,” Ladonna said.

Ah, that one.

Tythonnia stumbled and froze, unable to move. She felt disconnected, severed from action. She was trapped in the coffin of her own flesh. She started falling to the floor, but Par-Salian caught her and lowered her gently.

“What are you doing?” he shouted with such rage Tythonnia almost forgot her own.

“Protecting myself,” Ladonna said. “I would have thought that obvious.”

The wall that jailed Tythonnia evaporated as quickly as it’d appeared. She suddenly bucked against a startled Par-Salian, who struggled to hold her down.

“I’m going to kill her,” Tythonnia shouted, struggling harder, but Par-Salian wouldn’t let go.

“You froze!” Ladonna shouted back. She strode to the door and slammed it shut, for the little good it did to muffle their voices. “You never, ever panic.”

“You betrayed me!” Tythonnia screamed. “You bitch!”

“Only to test you,” Ladonna shouted back. “Both of you,” she said to Par-Salian.

“It wasn’t your place to test us,” Par-Salian said.

“Really? If not me, then who, hmm?” Ladonna said then lowered her voice. “Maybe you White Robes can get by on well wishes and bunny rabbits, Par-Salian, but that’s not how the world works. It’s hard and bitter, and far too often there isn’t time to consider both sides of the argument.”

She paused, waiting to hear what either had to say. Tythonnia was too choked up on her own emotions to speak, however, and Par-Salian had his hands full with her.

“The mission is my concern, not your feelings,” Ladonna said and spread her arms open. “And I needed to see how you’d react to getting caught.”

“You endangered her,” Par-Salian said.

“I saw you moving to help her,” Ladonna said. “And if you hadn’t, I would have. I wasn’t going to let her get hurt.”

“And what do you call this?” Tythonnia said, pointing to her split lip.

“A trophy. Let her go, Par-Salian.”

Par-Salian hesitated but only for a moment. Tythonnia broke free of his grip and scrambled to her feet. She stood nose to nose with Ladonna. Ladonna stared back at her, a fierce expression that did nothing to cow Tythonnia.

“All thieves earn that at one time or another,” Ladonna said without a shred of mercy in her voice. “What they can do to you-the merchants, the guards, any of them-is far worse than a split lip and a bruised pride.” She pulled her long, black hair back and turned her head, revealing a burn scar behind the ear. It looked like an arrowhead. “Much worse,” she said. “I needed to know how you’d react. Before it really counted.”

Tythonnia’s fist connected with Ladonna’s jaw and sent her head snapping to the side. The blow was solid, a punch learned from her cousin who taught her how to deal with troublesome boys. Ladonna stumbled backward but did not fall. The wall caught her. Par-Salian grabbed Tythonnia about the shoulders, but she managed to shrug loose.

“Now you know how I’ll react,” Tythonnia said. She strode for the door.

“Fine,” Ladonna said, nursing her jaw. “You only get one of those.”

“Wrong. I’ll take as many as I want,” Tythonnia retorted.

Ladonna laughed, not her cold, mocking laughter, but a genuine guffaw that seemed blessed with something natural, the gritty, boisterous laugh of a rowdy commoner. “I’ll make a Black Robe of you yet, Tythonnia,” Ladonna said.

Tythonnia said nothing as she opened the door and stormed out. The innkeeper and his wife downstairs suddenly looked very busy.

They stood outside the courtyard of the Wanderer’s Welcome, in the shadow of an alley. The older of the pair was a man in his forties. He wore black leather pants and a mailed surcoat with the sleeves missing. A tapestry of tattoos stretched up his arms to gird both biceps and cover his shoulders. From the straps across his chest hung two curved daggers, while the scars that stitched his grizzled face and his hands said he’d been in a fair number of scrapes.

The younger of the pair was a boy with black, unruly hair and green eyes. His clothes weren’t rags just yet, but they were well on their way. His right hand was in his pocket, fidgeting with the toy soldier. He was nervous and jumped slightly when the man’s rough hands clamped down on his neck and held him there firmly. There was a threat in his fist, the ability to snap the boy’s neck. The boy knew that; all the children did.

“I’m getting tired of waiting,” the man said, his voice like rocks tumbling over each other.

The boy squirmed, trying to break free of the man’s grip, but he remained held firmly in place. “I seen her come here,” the boy said. “I promi-there!” he said, almost shouting. He pointed at the black-garbed woman who emerged from the inn into the wagon-strewn courtyard.

The older man squeezed the boy’s neck even harder for his outburst and pulled him back into the shadowed alley.

“I told you I seen her, Sutler,” the boy said, trying to speak through the pain. “I told you-”

Sutler shook the boy hard like a rag doll before forcing him to face the woman. She didn’t notice either of them as she headed out of the courtyard.

“Her? You’re sure?” he demanded, shaking the boy again.

The boy nodded. He was struggling not to cry; that alone was enough to earn a beating from Sutler. “Yessir,” he said. “She asked for Edoha, but I told her nothing. I saw her running scams down by the Labyrinth with another girl.”

Sutler released the boy from his grip and ran his thick fingers over the rough stubble of his chin. The grating noise drove a shiver down the boy’s neck. He tried not to show it, especially since Sutler was thinking so hard about something.

“Nah … it can’t be,” Sutler said, staring at the woman. His eyes widened. “Paladine’s balls, it is her!”

“Who is she, Sutler?”

Sutler spun on the boy, making as though he was ready to backhand him. The boy cringed, but Sutler’s hand slapped down on his shoulder, instead, almost bringing him to a knee.

“What’s the first rule I taught you about the guild?”

“Blood for life?” the boy asked by way of an answer.

“Blood for life,” Sutler said, concurring. He walked out of the alley, forcing the boy to catch up. “Blood for life,” he repeated, a murderous smile inching its way across his face. “Just happens that some lives are shorter than others.” He followed the black-haired woman.

Par-Salian tried to make peace between the two women, but Tythonnia claimed it was no longer an issue. The punch settled the matter. Yet Tythonnia still felt betrayed, and Par-Salian knew that. He understood her anger, however, and likely shared it.

Tythonnia was still upset at Ladonna and felt incapable of trusting her. She approached every one of their thieving forays as another opportunity for betrayal and expected Ladonna to ambush them at every turn. For the remaining week, no treachery came and that, perhaps, was even more frustrating.

The next set of lessons proved difficult for Tythonnia and even more so for Par-Salian. It was a step up in daring, robbing a shop in the middle of the night. Par-Salian insisted on keeping a tally of what they stole, to reimburse the shopkeepers when their assignment ended. Ladonna wanted to argue the point, but Par-Salian insisted with a stiff jaw. He saw no reason not to make amends once the mission with Berthal was done.

In the span of four evenings, they robbed two stores of Ladonna’s choosing. One, a barter house, was in the Merchandising District, while the second was a jeweler in the more affluent Palanthas Trade Exchange. In both cases, Ladonna chose places protected with mystical wards. It was time to incorporate magic into their theft, she said, to attract Berthal’s lieutenant.

From the barter house, they stole what people would need to survive: equipment for traveling and monies. From the jeweler, they stole what greed dictated, though Ladonna took longer to pick out certain pieces to nick, all of them antiques. Tythonnia couldn’t be bothered to mention it, even to Par-Salian who decided it best if he served as lookout.

It was on their way back from the second job that Ladonna broke the bad news. As they kept to the shadows and avoided the well-patrolled, main thoroughfares, she told them.

“I think it’s time we redouble our efforts. I say we rob shops in daylight, where people can see us use magic.”

Par-Salian’s jaw seemed to knot up; Tythonnia knew he was upset. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“If you insist,” Ladonna said, her voice equally low and dangerous. They continued on their way home.

The courtyard was dark and empty when they arrived. The Vagros had left the day before, much to Tythonnia’s regret. She’d wanted to spend more time with them, instead of engaging in such messy business. Par-Salian and Ladonna had barely given the Vagros a nod good-bye, but Tythonnia spent an hour speaking with Grandmother Yassa and Kandri in the privacy of their wagon. It was like talking with family.

Sebastian also told Tythonnia she’d be welcome among them if she ever needed shelter or traveling companions. She thanked him for his hospitality then watched him usher along five new kender as though they were his most beloved children.

Tythonnia looked around the courtyard and felt hollow for its emptiness. Ladonna stopped, however, and hissed at the others to freeze. Par-Salian complied and Tythonnia immediately noticed the exterior lanterns had been extinguished, heightening the darkness in the courtyard. Before any of them could react, however, several figures seemed to appear from the shadows. Tythonnia felt the blade against her throat before she even realized someone was behind her.

Four men and a woman emerged into view. All of them were lean and masked by black cloth hoods that covered their lower faces. One man held Tythonnia to absolute stillness with the edge of a short sword pressed to her throat. The same held true for Par-Salian. The remaining three surrounded Ladonna, each ready to gut her. Only the man facing her, however, seemed confident and relaxed. Tattoos covered his arms, and he spun the two daggers expertly as he stood there.

“Little thief, little thief, welcome back home,” the man said.

“Sutler,” Ladonna replied. “You’re still alive? I’m surprised nobody’s crushed you under their boot yet.”

Sutler pulled his mask down, revealing a roadwork of scars. “They’ve tried,” he said. “Care to finish their work, little thief?”

Ladonna purred at the thought. She smiled. “In good time. What brings you here?” she asked casually.

“You left the guild. Nobody leaves the guild,” he replied. “You came back. Even dumber of you. But to rob guild-protected shops? You must be feeling downright suicidal. I came by to help you with that.”

Guild-protected shops? Tythonnia thought. Her strength fled; her stomach fluttered wildly. She could see it in Ladonna’s gaze, the guile, the machinations playing out. She was enjoying their situation; she felt in control. She’s out for revenge, Tythonnia realized. She used us to bring these people here so she could …

“Ladonna?” Par-Salian said carefully. His attacker pressed the knife to his throat.

“Shut up,” Ladonna said. “Let me do the talking.”

Sutler smiled and nodded to Par-Salian. “And who is this, little thief? Your boyfriend? Too pretty for your tastes,” he said. The knives in his hands danced between his fingers. “We simply can’t have you courting someone prettier than you.”

Tythonnia’s eyes widened. Par-Salian was in trouble; they all were. She looked to Ladonna for help, but the cool, calm gaze of her compatriot was gone. In its place was a feral expression: anger, hatred, pain. The real Ladonna was showing through, Ladonna the street urchin, Ladonna the animal, Ladonna the hurt.

“We can’t all like little girls,” Ladonna said; her voice seemed to chill the air.

In an instant, the mood changed. Tythonnia felt her assailant inhale ever so slightly, a small, panicked gasp that was shared in the glances of the other thieves. Whoever Sutler was, he was not a man to cross. Everyone there feared him, down to his own foot soldiers.

Sutler’s face contorted in anger. He bared his yellowed teeth and strode up to Ladonna. She stood her ground, however, her face turned up to his in defiance. The rogue’s blade flashed in his hands and across her face. Ladonna yelped in pain and immediately pressed her palm against the cut on her cheek, but the blood flowed freely over her fingers. His hands danced again, and another cut appeared on her exposed arm, then another.

Ladonna stumbled back and the woman behind her pushed her forward. Sutler caught Ladonna by the jaw.

“What was that, little thief?” Sutler said.

Despite the cuts to her face and her arm, Ladonna stared at him with an unflinching gaze. “I’ve suffered worse at your hands,” she said then looked at Tythonnia. She smiled. “And one more thing,” she said, turning her gaze back to Sutler. “I’m no longer ‘little thief.’”

As Ladonna’s claws dug into Sutler’s chest, she cried, “Halilintar sentu!”

Electricity sparked and danced between her fingers and into Sutler. He screamed and jerked as the threads of static leaped across his body and plunged between the links of his chain armor.

Tythonnia kept her hands in front of her as she locked her fingers in three quick movements.

“Sihir anak!” she whispered. One dart of light curled back and struck the man holding her. He screamed and pulled away without drawing her blood. Another struck the man holding Par-Salian. He, too, stumbled back as Par-Salian shrugged him off and prepared his own spell. The final two darts struck the man and the woman behind Ladonna, stopping them from falling upon her.

Sutler slashed out, cutting Ladonna across the ribs with his blade. She dodged another swing, but already her hands and mouth were moving with the dance of another spell. Par-Salian cracked his wrists together, producing a bell-like clang from the bracers around his wrists. The air around his body shimmered with heat, and three blazing arrows appeared. They shot out, their paths straight and true.

The first arrow repaid Tythonnia for her favor by striking the man behind her. He cried out in pain as a patch of clothing caught fire. The second arrow caught the woman behind Ladonna in the abdomen. She gasped and went limp, falling to the ground. She didn’t stir again. Unfortunately, the third arrow missed its mark. The other man flanking Ladonna barely managed to twist away, avoiding the bolt that struck the stone wall behind him. It vanished in a blazing pop. The cutthroat stabbed at Ladonna, catching her across the back. Whatever magic she had in store vanished from her lips in that moment of pain. The spell was lost. Ladonna was defenseless against Sutler and the other attacker.

Tythonnia saw everything happening too quickly, her own reactions too slow. The man behind Par-Salian was already at his back again, his dagger poised to strike; Ladonna fell into the mud, bleeding and flanked by two men who eyed her throat with a predatory gleam. The man behind Tythonnia scrambled to get up.

Who do I save? she screamed to herself. Everyone was within reach, everyone was too far to save.

The words came unbidden, as though possessed of their own voice. Her fingers darted into place, her hand motions swift and concise. She touched the pouch strapped to her wrist, the one with her eyelash trapped in tree sap. As the magic rode the shiver up her spine, she cried the words, “Tak’kelihatan lingkaran.”

And everyone vanished.