George Martin - The Way of the Wizard

Perhaps it was the unrelenting nature of the dance — the boards she trod over and over again, like a long-running play, with all the players the same, save one.

Linda was sick of herself, and sick of the game. Sick and tired.

And reckless.

“Garlock’s game is bait and switch,” she said, looking Renfrew in the eye. “He means to kill you and steal the heartstone you brought. He is not really a Broker. I’m the only talent he has. He’s just a dealer in magical pieces.”

Renfrew considered this, massaging his forehead with the heel of his hand. “What’s in the wine?”

“Weirsbane, to disable your Weirstone,” she said, resting her hand on her chest, “and something to make you sleep, so you’ll be easy to kill.”

“How do you do it?” he asked acidly. “A dagger to the heart? A carafe to the head? Perhaps you… ”

“Not me,” Linda interrupted. “I always leave. Before. My job is to get the wine into them.” Tears burned her eyes. No! She was done with crying. She would not cry in front of this man.

“How many?” he asked, relentless as the driving rain.

The tears spilled over. Damn! She turned away, swiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe. “In the past year, perhaps ten or twelve.”

Eighteen, actually.

There was a brief pause in the interrogation. “Then he doesn’t even have a warrior?” he asked then, wearily.

“He did, but Jared died six months ago. He killed himself.” Garlock’s warrior had been physically strong, but never the survivor that Linda was.

“Dead,” Renfrew said quietly. He toyed with the ring on his finger, looking unaccountably sad, as if it were a personal loss.

“So you and your syndicate will have to look elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, lost in thought.

“So. Now what? Do you plan to kill me?” She stood, hands on hips, one knee forward. “I might prefer it over what Garlock will do to me.” She was matter-of-fact.

He refocused on her. “There is another option. You can leave with me, if you choose.” He spread his fingers. “And then go wherever you like.”

As if a wizard could be believed. If she stayed, she might not survive her punishment. But there was no way out for her. Not yet.

“I… I can’t,” she said finally, looking up at him, the words thick in her mouth.

“So — you choose to stay?” Renfrew’s hands closed into fists, and Linda heard surprise and possibly disappointment in his voice.

Yanking at the scarf at her neck, she pulled it free, lifting her chin so he could see. She tapped the silver collar, inscribed with runes. “It’s a dyrne sefa. A heartstone. When I try to leave… ” She shuddered. She had tried, twice. She would never forget it.

“A slaver.”

The look on his face made Linda take a step backwards, pressing up against the magical wall.

“We’ll have to do a deal, then,” he said.

“He won’t make a trade for me,” she said. Garlock had told her as much. He was crazy. He was obsessed. He would never let her go.

“He’ll like my terms,” Renfrew said calmly. “Not many people say no to me.”

Could she trust this ruthless stranger? There was no reason for him to do a deal unless he had his own plans for her. Was she trading the devil she knew for the one she didn’t?

Truth be told, she was ready for a different devil. It wasn’t like she owed any loyalty to Garlock.

“All right,” she said. But she had to ask the question that had been dogging her. “But I don’t get it. If you knew it was a trap all along, why did you stay?”

The wizard smiled, a long, slow smile that improved his looks considerably. “I thought it was obvious,” he said. “I stayed for you.”

He brought his hands apart quickly, and the walls of light shattered, the shards drifting to the floor like sunlight. Then he flung his arms up towards the ceiling of the chamber, palms up. He muttered a charm, and the wood and plaster above their heads seemed to dissolve, glittering into the darkness.

And there was Garlock, suspended in the air, his eye to the peephole that no longer existed. As Renfrew lowered his hands, the broker settled gently to the floor at their feet.

Garlock lay there a moment, as if he thought he might go unnoticed. Then he scrambled to his feet, brushing nervously at his unfortunate clothing. His face was pale as putty.

“Mr. Garlock, thank you for… dropping in,” Renfrew said with a smile. “I’m interested in the enchanter after all. I won’t wait to see the warrior. I’ll trade the heartstone for her.”

Garlock’s eyes darted from Linda to Renfrew. She knew what he was thinking. This dragon was hardly defanged, and the fault was hers. “The heartstone for Linda,” he said, wetting his lips. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“What’s to think about? Surely a win for you. A warrior is worth more than an enchanter in the markets, and you said you were willing to do that deal for him.” Renfrew’s voice had acquired a distinct chill.

Garlock glared at Linda, suspicious. “You! Get over here.” She shook her head, and remained at Renfrew’s side.

Suspicion turned to fury. It was done, now. There was no going back.

“I understand you hold her with a slaver,” Renfrew said. “I’ll want the key to that as well.”

“A slaver!” Garlock wiped his hands on his shirt. “I don’t know what this slut has told you, but we both know lying comes as naturally to an enchanter as breathing.” Garlock was trying, in his way, to be charming, wizard to wizard.

“This offer is available for a limited time,” Renfrew said, as if Garlock hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to count to three, and then it will be withdrawn. My next offer will be… considerably less appealing.”

Garlock blinked at him.

“One.” The trader extended his arms, straight in front of him, palms out. The air shimmered, solidified, raced away from him. When it struck the wall, the concussion nearly blew the three of them off their feet. When Linda uncovered her eyes, one entire side of the room was gone, the wall on the ocean side. The rain poured in, the wind lifted papers from the desk and spun them out into space.

Linda could hear the ocean clearly now, crashing far below. She took a step away from Renfrew, the back of her hand across her mouth. What had she done? The charms Garlock used were personal, small time nasties. She had never seen anything like this before. From any wizard.

Garlock’s mouth opened, then closed, and his fingers knotted themselves together.

“Two.” Renfrew lifted his hands, and white-hot flame spiraled from his fingers, blasting upwards, driving the color from the room with its brilliance, running like rivulets over the stone, finding the opening in the ceiling, gathering there. With a blaze of heat, the ceiling was gone, and the roof three stories up, everything between incinerated or blown away.

When Linda looked up, squinting her eyes against the wet, she could see only darkness, and the rain arrowing down. In moments, she was soaked through and shivering, her hair plastered to her head, water running down her neck, the wet fabric of her dress sticking to her flesh. They were entirely out in the weather, clinging to the edge of a cliff that was being taken apart, piece by piece around them.

Renfrew smiled, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. He extended his arms toward Garlock, opening his hands. It was clear what the next target would be. Or who, rather.

“Wait!” Garlock screamed to be heard above the clamor of the gale and the roar of the angry ocean. “I’ll make the deal!” he shrieked. “I’ll make the deal,” he repeated, to make sure Renfrew got the message. “Only I… I have to go get the key.” He was shaking, hands opening and closing helplessly. He had made no move to launch a counter-attack. He was out-classed, and knew it.