Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“Documents?” I said questioningly.

“Deeds and letters, relating to the late Baron’s estate… now yours,” he smiled, though the effect his smile produced was more unnerving than reassuring.

“Of course your Majesty,” I said, giving him a deferential bow. My mind was still distracted, trying to follow the young man and his sister, steadily drawing further away. Thankfully the king merely nodded at that and soon enough I was on my own again. I waited a long minute until Edward had gone from my sight.

I started walking briskly in the direction of the man I was still tracking, much to Harold’s dismay. “Your Excellency!” he said, trying to get my attention.

“What,” I said gruffly.

“Would you mind telling me where we are heading?” he asked.

“I have something to take care of… I’ll meet you back at the house in a short while,” I informed him.

“I’m coming with you, your lordship,” he said firmly.

“No, I’m afraid you are not,” I replied.

“Lord Dorian’s orders were very clear sir,” he explained, almost apologetically, “my duty is to protect you, no matter what the circumstances.”

“Who is your liege-lord?” I asked him.

“You my lord,” he said promptly.

“I’m ordering you to return to my house and wait for me there,” I said sternly.

“I cannot obey that order your Lordship,” he replied.

I laughed, “Be glad I am tolerant.” I started walking back through the crowd. “Most lords would have you cut into pieces for that sort of impertinence.” Before he could reply I reached out and touched a stranger and spoke a phrase in Lycian. My appearance changed instantly to match that of the man I had just touched. Poor Harold was confused immediately.

Before he could sort things out I moved further away and touched someone else, trading appearances as easily as some people might change shirts. Soon enough I had lost my guards, and more specifically Harold, completely. I almost felt bad about it. I knew he would be sick with worry until I returned later. Sorry Harold, I thought.

I still had my mind fixed on that young man and his sister. They were heading steadily away, close to the limit of my range now as they made their way toward the city gates. I jogged when possible to close the distance and soon I had caught up enough that I didn’t have to worry about the range anymore. I followed at a fast pace then, to avoid attracting attention or running into someone, since the streets were still crowded.

I thought they might perhaps pass through the gates but they turned aside before they reached them, heading into one of the poorest districts of the city… a ramshackle collection of houses built near the walls. I followed them, making note of the street names until at last they entered a small dilapidated cottage. They stopped there, which allowed me to catch up.

I dawdled in the street near their house for a short while before I finally decided to simply knock on the door. I was still wearing a stranger’s appearance so I didn’t think it could hurt. I gave the door a few sharp raps and waited. After a minute it opened slightly and I saw the young woman peering at me from one side. “Can I help you sir?” she asked.

“Yes miss, I hope you can. Could you tell me what address this is?” I replied politely. I did in fact have no idea what the address was, and I needed the information for the next part of my ruse.

She opened the door slightly wider, probably thanks to my courteous tone. “This is number fourteen, Redbird Lane sir… why do you ask?” she answered cautiously.

I tipped my head deferentially. I almost attempted to tip my hat to her, but I wasn’t really sure if my appearance included a hat or not, or what would happen if I tried to remove an illusory cap. “Pardon the intrusion ma’am, my name is Stephen Dryer and I’m trying to find my friend, a mister John Wheeler.” Of course none of that was true, but sometimes a false statement is better than a question for getting facts.

She pursed her lips, “I’m afraid there’s no one here by that name sir, this is the Tucker residence.”

My face fell in an expression of dismay. “Are you sure? This is the address I was given and I don’t know where else to look. Could he possibly be one of your neighbors?”

Her look was sympathetic, “I don’t recognize the name, perhaps if you describe him to me.”

I smiled inwardly. I already had the address and their last name, anything more was icing on the cake. “Certainly ma’am, he’s a young fellow, younger than me, perhaps seventeen years old by his features. He’s got sandy brown hair and brown eyes and he stands about so tall.” I held my hand up near my face to indicate my estimate of her brother’s height.

She frowned, “That sounds just like my brother sir, but his name is Peter, not John, so I doubt it could be him.”

I let my eyes widen in excitement, “Is your brother in Miss? Perhaps he knows the fellow I’m looking for… if I could just talk to him for a moment.”

I could see her hesitate as she considered my words. “Well sir, he’s home at the moment but he’s not in a mood for visitors,” she said finally.

I gave her a look of sincere disappointment, “Please Miss, it would mean a lot to me.”

“Alright, just let me fetch him,” she said with a sigh. “The house isn’t fit for visitors so you’ll have to wait out here.”

I told her I didn’t mind and she shut the door. Inwardly I was congratulating myself. I might not be as good at courting and wooing women as Marc was, but I had a fair hand in dealing with people in general. After a minute or two the door opened again, this time fully, and standing in it was the man I had followed here, Peter Tucker. He didn’t look very happy to see me.

He’d be even less happy if he knew who I really was, I thought. I held out my hand but kept my face neutral. A smile might have annoyed him given his current mood. “Sorry for bothering you, my name is Stephen Dryer. I’m looking for a friend named John Wheeler.”

He shook my hand carefully, but didn’t make the gesture any friendlier than it had to be. “Looks like you wasted your time, there’s nobody by that name around here. What did you want to find him for?” he asked.

“Just wanted to let him know about a job. He’d been lookin’ for a while he said. I wanted to let him know about this one before he ran off and… well never mind,” I said, as if I had reconsidered my words.

Peter’s eyes lit with interest at the word ‘job’. “What sort of job was it? I might be interested,” he said.

I paused, frowning, as if I was giving serious thought to the question. “Well I don’t know if I should be sharing, since I don’t know how many men they need…,” I let my sentence trail off uncertainly.

“I don’t want to come between you and your friend, but if they need more than one man I could use some luck right about now,” he said carefully, as if he was afraid he might scare me off. Now that I had him it was time to set my hook and see what sort of information I could catch.

I looked him up and down. “You seem like an alright fellow, and truth is I might not run into John for a few days. I don’t think the offer will be open that long so I might as well help you out.” My mind raced while my tongue wagged, I needed a job that might entice this young man. His reaction would tell me much, but on the off chance he didn’t give anything away a job that interested him might allow me to keep the conversation going longer. Unfortunately I knew very little about him, other than the fact he wasn’t very muscular.

“What sort of job is it?” he asked, obviously somewhat anxious. As he spoke he lifted his hand to his face, scratching the stubble of his fledgling beard; that was when I spotted the ink stain.