Chapter 19
Shario was a very, very dangerous man.
In the two weeks since he'd started to wander over, about every other day, the man had already managed to intrude himself into Kyven's affairs entirely too deeply for his comfort, and the method of that intrusion was friendship. He'd been working his way into the good graces of the others, and that was the way he did it. His method of getting into a friendship with Tweak was to play posts with him, chatting away amiably. The way he befriended Lightfoot was to lure her out of the house after dark and introduce her to the shadowy world of the cutpurses, thieves, burglars, and criminals. Much to his shock, Shario had even managed to subvert Patches, by bringing her recipes and begging her to cook for him. Shario had also tried to charm his way into Clover's good graces, but in Clover the man found an opponent with which not to play. He was very polite to her, but he kept his distance from her. He could sense, maybe subconsciously, that Clover was the most dangerous of the Arcans, wise and intelligent and able to see right through him and read him like a book, and that made him gave her a wide berth.
But, his faith in his friends was well deserved, for they knew that there was a line they could not cross. All of them kept that in mind at all times, even as Shario tried to charm them into saying something that they really shouldn't; and in that regard, all of them saw the man for what he really was, and that was dangerous. Shario knew that Kyven wasn't who he pretended to be, and he was trying to fish that information out of the Arcans, because he seemed to understand that he wasn't going to get that information out of Kyven himself. Clover kept the others on track, but Shario didn't seem to mind being denied what he was after. He seemed to think it some game or challenge, and one he tackled with enthusiasm and delight.
Shario was a man that knew many things, and a desire to know everything he didn't know about the city in which he lived. He probably knew more of what was going on in Avannar than anyone else in the city, and that information was often used for his many pursuits, be them legal or not. Kyven felt that some of the information he might need was in Shario's hands, but getting it wouldn't be easy. To get, he felt he might have to give, and that was something that would be fatal for the handsome Flauren. If Shario learned more about Kyven than he felt was good, then Kyven would kill him. He would regret having to do it, but he would in a heartbeat. There was too much riding on what he was doing here for him to risk it all because of one charismatic, overly curious Flauren. That was one of the things the fox had taught him to do, to know when it was necessary to kill, and be capable of it when that time came.
Kyven was a little worried about Shario for the first few days, but once he saw that Clover would keep a leash on him, he focused himself back on his own task.
That task began to take shape. After hanging out in a few taverns in the evenings and talking with many of the workers in the building, going over everything Danna told him, and speaking to a few people in town, the wall down in Kyven's office began to slowly become decorated with the guts of the Loremasters' operation. He kept it all pinned up on that wall, so many pieces of paper it almost looked like a slateboard, and it held the organization.
Their organization was based on a dual system of councils and overseers, supported by a bureaucracy. For example, the city answered to the Council of Advisors, which was a council of lower-level people of importance, almost like lower-ranking nobles, who worked with the city's mayor, which was the overseer. The city government was a series of bureaucratic departments that oversaw various aspects of the running of the city. Above the Council of Advisors in authority and importance was the Council of States, where Loremasters represented each major kingdom, nation, or territory on Noraam. Leading that council was the High Statesman, which was the overseer to which the council answered. The Council of States was just the most important of a series of councils used by the Loremasters that oversaw, regulated, inspected, or dealt with various aspects of the continent. There was a council for trade, a council for defense, a council for resources, a council for research and scientific advancement, and a council for Arcan management. Some of those councils all answered to the Council of States, but others answered to the council above that one in importance,. Above them was the highest of the Loremaster councils, which was simply called the Circle. The Circle represented the interests of the Loremasters, not the peoples or nations of Noraam, and similar to other councils within their organization, it was led by the High Master. But there were four other overseers that were part of the Circle, four special members of that council, and those were the four overseers in the four towers. Each of those men led his own council, which helped them in their special duties. Each individual council and overseer had its own series of departments and offices that supported its operations, staffed by Loremasters and outside workers, and the headquarters building wasn't the only building in which the Loremasters did their work. Much as Kyven had suspected, there were other buildings in the city where the Loremasters did some of their business, but those satellite offices were all mainly low-level departments, dealing mainly with the city of Avannar itself or the Free Territories. Everything of importance was in the headquarters building, though. It was all up on the wall, a organizational tree that showed which department answered to who, where it was in the power structure, and how they all inter-connected to form the bureaucracy that was the Loremasters, a bureaucracy that shadowed the governments of Noraam and both held it together and quietly ruled it from the behind the curtain.
The building itself was sectioned off in much the same way that the second floor had been isolated from the rest of the building. The building had six floors above ground and three floors below with extra floors in the four towers, from what he'd learned in his conversations with those who worked inside it. The third, fourth, and fifth floors held the council chambers, offices, and departments that dealt with the affairs of Noraam. The sixth floor held the offices and chambers that dealt with the offices and workers that supported the Circle. The towers had additional offices that focused on the special jobs those four members of the Circle performed, supporting them in their special tasks. The higher up one went, the more important the job, and the more important the office.
Within that framework, there were names. Kyven had, in two weeks, managed to discover the name of every member of every council and every overseer, from Meryk Thallson, the most junior member of the Council of Advisors, to the High Master himself, an old, wizened man named Greggor Tallmast, the highest ranking member of the Loremasters, and what one might even call the ruler of all of Noraam… but not overtly. The Loremasters didn't do things overtly. They ruled from the shadows, behind an illusion of only being an organization that helped the independent kingdoms work together, trade, and cooperate. In addition to the names of all those Loremasters, there were also names of many different Loreguard that would be patrolling the building and the grounds, names that Kyven might need to know if he were stopped and challenged. Names. Hundreds of names. And Kyven spent a day memorizing every name on that wall, the name of every department, what floor it was on, and the names of many Loreguard that protected the building. That information was going to be his key to learning every nook and cranny of the building. By knowing who was on which floor, he could talk his way past guards and Loremasters, and also locate all the offices and important rooms. By knowing which floor was which, he could assign places to all those names and titles on his wall.
He'd spent nearly two weeks amassing that wall of information, and now it was almost time to start using it. Tomorrow night, he would penetrate the building for the first time, with the mission of learning his way around. He would find the offices belonging to those names and familiarize himself with the patrol patterns of the guards, what kind of security they had, and the possibility of any alchemical devices in there to dissuade intruders.
He felt… anxious. Excited. He was a little nervous, but also looking forward to finally doing something, not just sitting in smelly bars and talking to boring people while feigning interest. But he wasn't so excited that he couldn't keep his mind on what he was doing, and what he was doing right now was his other job. A twelve point blue crystal sat in his holder on his desk, Veraad's first show of trust in him, and Kyven was almost done with it. Kyven would make a decent profit off the crystal, not that profit really mattered. But it was a matter of pride to him that his shop could make money above board, totally legal, using Kyven's cutting skills. Veraad wasn't the only alchemist for whom Kyven was now cutting crystals, either. Veraad had recommended Kyven to his more friendly fellow alchemists, and four of them had brought Kyven some crystals. They approached him the same way Veraad had, by giving him small, less valuable crystals to cut first to get an idea of his ability, and coming back after they saw he was good. Kyven was now facing the idea of having to work all day, cutting the crystals they brought him, seeing the crisis facing humanity get that much closer with every crystal he cut, and knowing that at that very moment there were more crystals being cut all over the city, and all over Noraam.
His wasn't the only bench in use. Behind him, at their own benches, Tweak and Patches were also cutting crystals. They were cutting milk crystals, doing nothing more than playing, learning how the various tools were used after Kyven showed them each tool and its use. They were just playing with them, basically, cutting the crystals to get a feel for the tools and a feel for how crystals cut. They'd been doing it for two days now, and already they were showing signs of improvement. The exercise was about them learning how to handle the tools more than anything else. Kyven had done the same thing in his apprenticeship to Holm years ago, starting working like that after months in the classroom learning to read and write. He looked up in the mirror he put over his bench to look behind him, both so the apprentices could see what he was doing and so he could see what they were doing, and saw two backs bent over benches, and the tink tink tink sounds of delicate chisels striking crystals. Just from those sounds, Kyven could tell much of what they were doing. "Not so hard, Tweak," he cautioned in a gentle voice as he made the final major cut on his crystal, chipping off a small burr on what would be the underside of the setting. "Apply only the force it takes to cut the crystal. It may be hard, but when you're cutting it, a crystal is just like glass. Hit it too hard, and it'll shatter on you."
"Sorry," he apologized. But the bell of the shop door opening caused him and Patches both to quickly stop what they were doing, and take their crystals in their settings and the metal pans holding the chips and run with them into the office, leaving behind empty benches. Clover's voice came from behind the door to the lobby, greeting the customer in a vapid tone that made her seem quite brainless. The authoritative reply seemed a little harsh to him, and the sudden commotion outside made him jump up. There was a loud sound that had no business being in the lobby, which caused him to rush to the door and yank it open. Beyond, he saw Clover laying on the floor behind the counter, blood dripping from her muzzle, and two Loreguard standing beside and in front of a tall, thin, haughty-looking woman with brown hair and wearing a Loremaster's surcoat over a very expensive silk dress. "Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Kyven demanded in a hot, indignant tone.
"I am a Loremaster," she said with a slightly arrogant tone.
"Loremaster? I don't care if you're God, woman, you don't come into my shop and strike my Arcans just for greeting you. Now get out of my shop."
"We are here on official business. Send your animals away."
"You have no business with me," he retorted, making sure his illusory face showed all of his anger and outrage. "When you try your next cutter, I suggest you don't beat the Arcan behind the counter, you might get a little more cooperation."
"You stand up for an Arcan?" one of the large men asked bluntly.
"How'd you like it if I came into your house and kicked your daughter's favorite kitten?" he snapped. "Besides, what you've done is showed me total disrespect for my property and my shop. I'll do no business with anyone who forgets just whose shop this is. You've showed me absolutely no respect in striking my Arcan, and I will not do business with you. Now get out."
"I believe you haven't been in Avannar long enough to understand a few things, Master Steelhammer," the woman said, a bit archly. "You were recommended by your guild as a cutter capable of cutting rare or difficult crystals, a specialty of yours learned from the master cutter Holm of Atan. The Loremasters will contract your services."
"You can take your crystals and shove them up your ass, bitch," Kyven growled at her as he helped Clover off the floor. Her eyes were glazed, and blood oozed from the side of her maw. "I told you, I will not work for anyone who disrespects me and my shop not ten seconds after you walk in the door. Now you go back to your boss and tell him that Kyven Steelhammer will not work for the Loremasters because the Loremaster they sent to talk to him pissed him off before you even met him."
The woman's lips formed a tight line, and her eyes turned cold. "Again, you seem to not understand just who controls this city, cutter," she said frostily. "I didn't say you had a choice."
"Fine. I'll cut your crystals for a million chits per point of weight, and that price is non-negotiable," he said with a chilly stare. "That's what your rudeness is going to cost the Loremasters if they want to do business with me."
"You will cut what we bring you for the guild standard fee or you will lose this shop," she snapped.
"Try it," Kyven said in a low, dangerous voice. "Because I guarantee you, bitch, the very first thing I'll do after you leave my shop is go straight to the guild. You try to close me down, and you'll get to deal with them. I think you may remember what happened the last time a city or government crossed the guild?"
The woman gave him a long, hard stare, then turned and marched from the shop without another word.
"You're digging a hole, friend, and over a fuckin' animal," one of the men told him.
"Her being an animal doesn't change the fact that you had no right to hit her in my shop," he retorted in a cold voice. "You seem to think this is about the Arcan. Well, it's not. What you did is just the same as if you took out a club and smashed my display cases because you didn't like the crystals I keep in them. These are my Arcans, this is my shop. You have no right to damage anything in my shop. So, it's not about an Arcan, it's about showing me respect inside my own shop. You marched in here acting like you own this place and thought you could do whatever you wanted to do. Well, you can't. Even here in Avannar, where you make the rules, you can't get around the simple rule of common decency and respect. I don't work for assholes," he snapped. "Now get out."
The two men gave him dark looks, but they too left the shop. Kyven glared at them until they were well out of his windows, then he turned and urged Clover to open her mouth. He hissed under his breath. "You're missing a couple of teeth, my friend," he warned.
She just looked at him dazedly.
"Think I'd better take you up to bed. Come along," he urged, pulling her through the shop door.
Upstairs, he put her down in his bed and dabbed away the blood, waiting for her to snap out of it. Kyven couldn't heal, had been told he didn't even have the power to try, so all he could do was wait for her to come back to her senses. Whoever hit her must have hit her really hard. Clover was a very tough young lady, and to be struck so hard that her eyes were unfocused and her mind was addled must have taken some serious power. It might have killed Patches.
The other three appeared in the doorway, and Kyven waved them in. "Is she alright?" Tweak asked as they looked over the bed.
"She's dazed," he answered. "I've seen something like this before, back when Orad got hit in the head by a box he was trying to take off a shelf. We just have to wait until she comes around. You two go back to your training, but I want you to lock the door going out to the lobby. Lightfoot, keep an eye on the front door, but do it from the roof. If you see them come back, come in and warn me."
"Alright," Patches said, as Lightfoot nodded to him, and the three of them left.
It took about half an hour. Her eyes fluttered for a while, then they finally took focus, and she stirred. "Kyven," she murmured.
"Good to see you back," he smiled. "You're going to have to heal yourself."
"What happened?"
"When you greeted that Loremaster, she had one of her thugs club you," he answered. "At least that's what I think, since I wasn't in the room. You lost a couple of teeth, my friend."
"No matter, easily replaced," she said, sitting up and wincing. "My head feels like this building is sitting on it."
"Are you alright to use magic?" he asked.
"I'll be alright in a minute," she said. Her eyes opened to the spirits, and Kyven then felt her call out to the spirits, a hand to her own head. He felt the magic flow into her, and visibly watched the two teeth knocked out grow back in her mouth. "There, I feel much better, but I think I still need to rest," she said. "I still feel a little dizzy."
"Then my bed is yours," he said grandly.
"As often as I sleep here, you should say it's ours," she said with a winsome smile. "What happened after I was hit?" When he related to her what happened when he found her, she gave him a concerned look. "Brother, that might not have been the best course. You want to get into the Loremasters' organization. Working for them would give you a new path."
"I won't tolerate them coming in here and hitting you, probably with a rod, just for greeting them."
"Brother, I'm an Arcan," she told him simply. "I should have known better than to say a word. I guess being around you and Shario has dulled my usual senses."
"What do you mean?"
"Any Arcan who's been here very long knows never to speak to Loremasters or Loreguard. It seems to violate their sense of superiority," she said with a light smile, but serious eyes. "I should have known better than to greet them, even using very humble words."
"Well, you won't have to speak to them again."
"Defending me will earn you their suspicion."
"I didn't couch it like that. My anger was with their disrespect for my property and my shop," he answered. "And you're my property, woman," he teased lightly, tapping her on the upper chest with a clawed finger. "I own this handsome little body."
She laughed. "Flirting even while I'm injured, taking advantage of me. You're such a scoundrel," she grinned.
He reached under her shirt and cupped her small, furry breast. "This is taking advantage of you," he said teasingly.
"Scoundrel," she laughed, and just laid back languidly and allowed him to squeeze her breast.
"Wanton little trollop," he accused with a grin.
"Depraved reprobate. Care to see how depraved you are? I can undo the ties on my breeches so you can get your hand in there without clawing me."
He laughed. "You're definitely feeling better," he said, leaning down and licking her on the cheek, a move that appeared to be a kiss by his human illusion. "Now stay in bed for a little while. I remember that much."
She nodded. "Until the dizziness fades," she agreed.
Kyven gave Clover some peace and quiet as she recovered and returned to the shop. He had no doubt that the Loremasters would be back, if only to reassert their sense of dominance in Avannar. They weren't used to being denied anything in their city, and he had no doubt that willowy bitch was right now whining to her superior about how the mean cutter threw her out of his shop for no reason. So, it was time to take some steps. He locked the customer door and hung a big sign on it reading at the guild, will be back soon, then left from the back door and went straight to the guild. He got in quickly and told them what happened, and told them specifically that the Loremaster threatened to take away his shop for refusing to work for them after they damaged his personal property, which outraged the guild representative he was meeting. "I think the Loremasters need to remember that they aren't the beginning and the end," he snapped, standing up from his desk. "Let me go get the Junior Secretary." The Junior Secretary, a middle-aged woman, agreed that Kyven had an honest grievance, and sent him back to his shop with a calm reassurance. "Don't you worry a bit, Artisan. Go back to your shop, and I'll dispatch a watcher to make sure nobody harasses you. We'll show them that they're not the only people who hold power in Avannar."
That was one of the reasons the guilds came into existence. The guilds were insurance for artisans, protection from persecution and exploitation by governments. The first guild was the guild of blacksmiths, which organized in Cheston nearly three hundred years ago when the smiths all began to mightily resent unfair taxes levies on smiths by the city. Every smith in the city joined the movement, and as a group, they refused any and all work for the city. At first the city was amused, but when their watch started needing new horseshoes for their patrol mounts, and things like uniform buckles, armor, and weapons began to break and they had neither any way to repair nor any way to replace it without paying three times as much to have it shipped in from another city, they started taking the new guild of smiths seriously. It took nearly two years, but the guild broke Cheston's will, and Cheston repealed the unfair taxes. Other cities, and other professions, seeing this amazing success, also organized guilds to further the interests of their trades. Over time, the guilds of a trade in individual cities and kingdoms merged to form continental organizations, and the guilds began to offer services to members, as well as begin to charge fees for membership. Kyven, overall, considered the guilds to be good things. They defended the rights of the craftsmen from exploitation in the form of unfair taxes or being forced to work for unfair pay.
The Loremasters would take the guild of cutters quite seriously. If they pushed Kyven, the guild would back him, and they would declare a strike against the Loremasters, refusing them any cutting services. That meant that they'd have no replacement crystals for any of their equipment, which would extend also to the Loreguard. The Loremasters might control Avannar, but they were not the only power here. The guilds, be it one or all of them together, were forces to be reckoned with.
He returned to the shop and was not surprised at all to see a large contingent of Loreguard standing outside his front door, visible down the street as he went around to get in through the back. He entered and went straight to Patches. "Get Clover into the fake room," he ordered her. The fake room was a fake sleeping room for the Arcans, four rude pallets laid out in a small unused storeroom that they'd set up. They'd had to use it several times already because of Shario, since he couldn't know that the Arcans slept upstairs in much nicer rooms. Patches nodded and rushed upstairs as Kyven surveyed the shop and made sure that there was no trace that more than one cutter had been at work, and Patches returned escorting Clover, with Tweak supporting her other arm. They looked nervously at him, but Kyven just nodded his head when he saw that everything looked proper; no glints of crystal chips on the other benches, the tools were all neatly put away and covered with a soft linen cloth to keep the dust off of them. Kyven took just a second to compose himself, to put on the aire of a slighted artisan who was outraged at a lack of respect, putting his affection and attachment for his Arcans in the back of his mind. If they knew he had personal feelings for the others, it would jeopardize things.
Once Clover was ensconced in the fake room, Kyven went out into the lobby as if to reopen the door, and stopped and stared at the large group outside his door. There were too many for this to be a social call, or some kind of negotiation to soothe his ego and have him work for them. But, they also hadn't just smashed down his front door, so they did want to talk about something. He wasn't sure why they needed ten Loreguard accompanying them, though. He saw another Loremaster out there, with graying, balding hair, standing with the same effete bitch that had angered him in the first place.
He hoped that watcher for the guild was already in place and saw this.
He opened the counter and stepped through as twelve pairs of eyes outside focused on him, then stalked up to the door, removed the sign, and unlocked it. "What do you want?" he challenged, in a not-so-friendly tone.
"We're here to contract your services," the graying man said, tugging at his Loremaster surcoat as if to attract attention to it. His surcoat had a silver border, which marked him as a high-ranking member.
"Well, I suggest the shop of Brogan Dunn, five streets down and near the Black Monument. He's a very good cutter. Good day to you." He moved to close the door, but one of the Loreguard put a muscled arm against it, preventing him. The graying man looked to the young woman, who looked as if she'd eaten a large rock from the expression on her face, then she bowed.
"I… apologize for ordering your Arcan struck," she said in halting tones, clearly choking on every word. "I had no right to take such action within the boundary of your property."
"We will pay you the fair worth of the Arcan," the graying man. "Taken from her salary, of course."
Kyven gave the woman a long look, then nodded. "The Arcan isn't badly hurt, just dazed," he said in a much friendlier tone. "Besides, I think the apology cost her more than any fine ever will."
The woman glared viciously at him, which just made him smile.
"Come in, good Loremaster, and let's discuss your need of me. Just send her back. She'll not set foot in my shop."
"Very good," the older man said with a slight smile. "Take Veralda back to the office, if you please Denalt."
One of the Loreguard saluted, and five Loreguard followed the woman as she stomped off back up the street. The graying man was escorted by the other five Loreguard into the shop, and Kyven brought them back into his workshop, showing them courtesy. The older man looked around and nodded at his layout. "I see you're preparing to take on apprentices," he noted.
"As soon as I'm well established, yes. I'll send for a few from our shop in Atan," he answered. "I'm sure you know I'm part of a partnership. My partner runs the shop in Atan, while I've come here to expand our interests."
"You're wise for a young man," the older man chuckled. "Yes, we looked into your background before deciding to approach you with a contract."
"Please, sit down," he said, motioning at one of the chairs. "Patches!"
Patches scurried from the storeroom, then immediately put her eyes on the floor, obviously afraid.
"Bring wine for our guests," he told her.
"None for me, thank you," the graying man said with a smile. "And though the Loreguard is usually forbidden to take strong drink while on duty, I think they should be allowed a little leeway in this matter," he added with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
Patches rushed towards the kitchen, as all eyes followed her.
"An unusual situation for an artisan to have Arcans but no apprentices," the older man noticed.
"I'm in an unusual situation," Kyven chuckled. "I'm not ready to split my time between work and apprentices since I'm not established, but I do need help keeping this shop running. So I bought some Arcans to help me. One of them is very clever, smart enough for me to send out to do errands, and that helps a great deal. Once I'm established and I'm making a decent profit, I'll send for some of the apprentices in the Atan shop and probably send a couple of the Arcans back to Atan."
"I must say, you're a very brazen young man, standing up to us," he smiled.
"I'm a country boy, sir. In Atan, you'd never walk into a shop and do something like that."
"Yes, well, that's why I'm here. I used to be the village Loremaster in Atan, years ago," he smiled. "So I understood what happened better than most. The department wanted to march a contingent of Loreguard down here and arrest you," he said seriously. "But, it's a matter in the past now."
"Indeed it is, sir," Kyven said as Patches returned carrying a tray holding glasses of wine. She offered one to each Loreguard with her eyes down and her paws trembling visibly. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"Why, we'd like to contract you to cut certain crystals for us," he answered. "The guild told us that you specialize in rare, valuable, or unusual crystals, and being the man to whom Master Holm sold his shop, that recommendation carries weight."
"It's what Master Holm trained me to do."
"I was sorry to hear of his passing," the older man said. "When I was there, I was quite fond of Master Holm. He was always such a serious man, and he was the best posts player I've ever seen in my life."
"You knew him?"
"Oh yes, about thirty years ago," the man chuckled. "Atan was my very first post after joining the Loremasters, and I think I amused Master Holm, this downy-faced pup being sent to represent the Loremasters. I was younger than some of the sons of the men on the village council. I think they never quite took me seriously," he smiled, his eyes distant and merry.
"That sounds like Master Holm, alright," Kyven chuckled.
"We have several unusually formed crystals of a certain worth that we'd like to have cut by someone trained for such things," the Loremaster continued. "There are any number of quite competent cutters in Avannar, but these are special crystals, and so it was decided we needed a specialist to handle them. Brint, if you please," he beckoned to a Loreguard.
The Loreguard, a tall, willowy young man with black hair and a handsome face, produced a leather pouch from under the neck of his tunic and handed it to Kyven. Kyven upended it into his hand and found himself staring at a jagged, highly irregular black crystal, about fourteen points in weight. "Yikes," Kyven grunted, turning the spiky thing over in his hand, feeling the energies within it, studying it for long moments in silence. "This won't be easy," he finally reported, holding it up to the light. "It would be best to split it into two crystals, it has a very nasty flaw off center on the smaller side."
"This is why we wanted a specialist," the man said soberly. "Can you cut it as a single crystal?"
Kyven nodded. "It won't be at fourteen points, though. I'll have to cut it down to thirteen points to make it viable. The internal flaw is just too severe."
"Thirteen would be acceptable," the man nodded. "Are you currently available?"
"I have three other orders to complete first," he answered. "But they're not that difficult. I could start work on this crystal tomorrow. It may take a couple of days to cut, though."
"Understandable. We pay our cutters the guild standard fees, but given this is a specialty job, I'm authorized to offer you half again the usual rate, given the amount of time you'll have to devote to it."
"That's acceptable," Kyven said immediately.
"I'll be sending a page down once a day to inquire. When it's done, just inform the page, and a Loremaster will be down to pick it up and render your payment."
"I'll have to go to the bank to get the bond for this," he said. "I don't have that much money here."
"We don't bother with bonds, Master Steelhammer," he chuckled. "We know who you are and where you are. I highly doubt you'll try to cheat us."
"Feels like back home," Kyven chuckled. "We never bothered with bonds at our shop."
"You cut for the same people every day. Here, it's a little different."
"Truly," Kyven nodded.
Kyven was entertained by a few stories from the Atan of thirty years ago by the old Loremaster, who finally named himself as Yoris, as the Loreguard finished the wine that Patches brought them. Patches stood by the kitchen door with the tray in her hand, her head down and quite obviously frightened. Once the last man had finished his wine, the old Loremaster stood up, quite deliberately. "Well, we should be along to let you get back to work," he announced. "It was nice to meet you, Master Steelhammer."
"You too, Master Yoris," Kyven said, escorting them out into the lobby.
When they were gone, Kyven breathed a sigh of relief. He had no doubt that he got off easy, and only because they needed something from him. He was surprised that they would bring him such a large black crystal to cut, though. Surely they had a stable of master cutters from which to draw to cut a crystal like that… why bring it to him? Was it a test? Was it a test of his skill, of his loyalty, or both? He remembered what Yoris had said, the department wanted to march a contingent of Loreguard down here and arrest you. Yes, the Loremasters were scoping him out, this young, unknown cutter who came from a very prestigious shop in Atan, who actually owned it, but had opened a new shop in Avannar and brought on a partner to run the Atan shop with him. He had no doubt that they knew all about him before they sent that girl, but he also wondered why they had blundered by sending someone that would offend him the way she did.
Then again, it was probably something they just overlooked. The woman was probably violently prejudiced against Arcans, and Kyven was from a village that took private property, good manners, and proper behavior seriously.
Still, Clover was right. Working for the Loremasters would help him break into their organization, at least now that he was in their better graces. The misunderstanding had been smoothed over, and now Kyven was working for the Loremasters. If he could make a few more friendly contacts like Yoris, he could get a lot more information.
He looked to Patches, who was still trembling near the kitchen door. "Well done, little one," he said with a smile.
"Th-Thank you, Kyven," she said with a nervous smile. "I thought I was going to faint there for a minute."
"You were very brave," he said assuringly.
Kyven called Lightfoot down from the roof and into the fake bedroom where Clover and Tweak waited, and he relayed the entire confrontation to them. "I think it was smoothed over," he mused. "Yoris didn't seem combative at all, and he did leave the crystal for me to cut. They clearly value my skill over my insult."
"This may well work in our favor," Clover agreed. "If you can befriend those in this Yoris' department while avoiding that humiliated woman, we might gain valuable information. After all, if the Loreguard mobilizes for war, they will want a stockpile of cut crystals, and you will be one to cut some of them."
"That's a cheerful thought, cutting crystals they'll use against my own side," Kyven muttered darkly.
"No one will blame us," Tweak said impulsively. "If what we can pass back to home helps more than cutting crystals hurts, won't it be better in the long run?"
"Well reasoned, young one," Clover said with an approving nod. It was a rare display of logic from the usually hyper and ferret… but the brutal practicality of it was not lost on Kyven. After all, it was what the fox had trained him to do. There are no happy endings for everyone. That mantra applied to Tweak's reasoning.
He didn't have to like it, though.
"I would just be careful of that woman, friend," Clover warned. "She was forced to humiliate herself in public of an Arcan. Arrogance like hers will poison her against you. I would keep an eye on her from here out."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Kyven agreed with a nod. "This isn't changing the plan, though. Tomorrow night, I'm still going to their building and snooping."
"Company?" Lightfoot asked in her direct manner, her tail almost wagging behind her in expectation.
"Not tomorrow, but you'll be coming with me once I know my way around," he told her. "After I find all the traps and know which offices hold what we want, a second pair of eyes and hands will be useful."
She gave him a nod of understanding.
"He'll be safer going through this feeling out process alone," Clover agreed.
"After I'm comfortable bringing help, I'll just put the illusion over you and stay in the shadows," he added.
They discussed the events for a few more minutes only, for the bell rang noting the entrance of a visitor, and a booming voice echoed through the shop. "Hello! Where is everyone?" Shario's voice boomed.
Kyven turned his head towards the open doorway. "In here!" he called. Seconds later, the swarthy Flauren appeared in the doorway, holding a pair of large bowls that smelled of fish, wine, and spices.
"Whatever is the matter?" he asked, seeing Clover in bed and the others gathered in with her. "Are you well, Clover?"
"I had a bit of an accident," she said mildly, "and must now bear the mothering such a thing creates."
Shario laughed lightly. "My little chef, I've brought you the marinated bluescale flanks," he announced, holding out the bowls. "Did Master Kyven read the recipe to you?"
"Umm, he did, Master Shario," she lied artfully, since she could read the recipe herself; a skill that they kept secret from the Flauren thief.
"Then might I come for dinner this evening?" he asked, looking to Kyven. "I hope to see how the little chef interprets a classic Flauren dish such as baked bluescale."
Kyven looked to Clover, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod assuring him she was up for it. "You're welcome at our table tonight, Shario."
"Very good, very good," he smiled. "I also came to congratulate you on your good fortune. Word is the Loremasters have contracted you."
"Thus my little accident, Shario," Clover said with a rueful chuckle. "I foolishly made humble greetings to the Loremaster without realizing to whom I spoke. She did not take… kindly, to me speaking to her."
Shario nodded gravely. "I do hope you are well, then."
"I'm quite fine, just resting away the last of the dizziness. Thank you for your concern, I am grateful for it."
"You are a very clever Arcan who delights me with your wise banter," he grinned.
Under his illusion, Kyven's ears picked up. The way that Shario said the word wise seemed to Kyven that he was hinting that he knew or suspected that Clover was much more than she seemed.
"No one has ever accused me of wisdom before," Clover laughed. "It is a dangerous thing to say about an Arcan anyway."
"True, true, I suppose," the Flauren agreed. But fear nothing from me, my dear. I'm too wrapped up with your master to ever make mention of such things. Speaking of that, my friend, I have another business arrangement with you." He put the owls into Patches' waiting hands, and produced a small leather pouch from under his doublet. He poured a small symmetrical black crystal into Kyven's waiting hand. "How long?"
Kyven took it and inspected it, even as his fingers assensed the magic lurking within the crystal. It was two points in weight, had no flaws, and was remarkably well structured. "By dinner, easily," he answered.
"Excellent, excellent!" Shario said brightly. "Then I have two reasons to look forward to this evening. I will bring the wine, and dear little chef, you will not set the table in advance this time. You rob me of a Flauren tradition!" he said with a playful smile.
"I'll remember," she said demurely.
Patches took the bowls to the kitchen, and Shario gave Kyven a smile. "This evening, then," he said. "Tonight, my Lightfoot?"
She nodded. Lightfoot had been going out at night to run the streets, no doubt learning the arts of thievery from Shario's band of rogues, whores, burglars, cutpurses, and assassins. Lightfoot was well named, and took to the thief's arts naturally. He was amazingly agile, much stronger than a human, and could climb almost anything. Kyven had no doubt that Lightfoot was out there robbing Avannar blind, and Shario was profiting outrageously from her education. Lightfoot's athleticism, agility, and climbing ability made her a natural burglar, and he had no doubt that she had already mastered skulking silently through someone's house as they slept, and stole anything of value.
After Shario gave friendly farewells and left, Tweak grinned at Lightfoot. "Going out on dates with him now?" he asked. "Is he putting you with the thieves, or the prostitutes?"
Lightfoot fixed Tweak with a challenging stare that made him flinch, and Clover and Kyven laugh. "I thought you were smarter than that, Tweak," Kyven noted with a sly smile.
"You're the one needing training," she said, using more words at once than Kyven had heard out of her in days. "You hump like a hyper rabbit."
Clover giggled uncontrollably as Tweak took on an insulted and outraged expression, his banded fur ruffling. "Well, Patches doesn't complain!" he said indignantly.
"Patches ruined you for females with experience," Clover said with a light smile, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Giving comfort is not a race, young one. It's a journey, not a destination. Trying to get there first ensures you won't get many offers to repeat. Be the tortoise, not the hare," she jibed.
"Watch Kyven, he knows how," Lightfoot told him.
"I've watched. He's no different than me!"
"Come in when we start," she told him. "Not when we're almost done."
Tweak turned and marched huffily out of the room, which made Clover giggle again. "He's still bad?" Kyven asked curiously.
Clover rolled her eyes, and Lightfoot actually laughed. "He still tries to give me friction burn," Clover complained, which made Kyven burst into laughter.
Tweak seemed to take the remonstrations of the older Arcans as some kind of personal challenge to his manhood, but he didn't dare seem to want to prove himself to them. After Kyven cut the crystal Shario brought, and the Flauren returned to pick it up and have dinner, he and Kyven walked into the kitchen to find Tweak proving his virility and ability to please women on the only woman in the house that didn't complain about him. Shario didn't seem all that startled or shocked when they came into the kitchen and were greeted by the sight of Patches bent over her work table, giving little squeaks and cries of pleasure as Tweak thrust into her, her tail shivering each time he drove up against her furry backside. Instead of trying to give Patches friction burn, he instead was driving himself into her with hard, measured strokes, hard enough to shake the table with each one.
"I do hope you finished everything," Shario chuckled.
"Tweak, what have I told you about this?" Kyven demanded. "Not in the kitchen!"
"Leave them be, my friend," Shario said as he put the bottle of wine down on the counter, then moved to the cupboard holding the dishes. "Arcans are very generous with themselves, and have different customs concerning such things in public. I'm not offended in the slightest."
"Yes, I know, Shario," Kyven responded. "I'm not complaining about what they're doing, I'm complaining that Tweak knows not to tie up Patches when she's cooking. There are two other women in this house he can go to. If he holds her up and our dinner gets burned, I'll be pissed."
Shario laughed delightedly. "Ash, I see," he grinned, as Patches began to moan uncontrollably. Shario ignored the two of them as he took a stack of plates out of the cupboard, and Kyven fetched the silverware.
"You're more worldly about Arcan customs than I would have guessed, Shario," Kyven told him as they carried the dishes into the dining area.
"I told you before, my friend, I both own and employ Arcans in my businesses," he answered. I'm used to them in ways many humans are not, given I work with them quite closely. They have no sense of modest about the act of love, my friend."
"Worldly, eh?" Kyven asked with a sly smile.
Shario actually blushed. "I've been, ah, curious in the past," he admitted delicately. "And continue to be curious. My Arcan whores are quite willing to satisfy a man's curiosity. They quite enjoy their work."
"You have Arcan prostitutes?" Kyven asked in surprise.
"Naturally," he said simply as they began to set the table. "I'm certainly not the first man to be curious about Arcan women. My girls have never gone a night without entertaining a curious man." He moved down the table, deftly setting each plate in exactly the front and center of the seat. "I certainly don't keep them in my licensed brothels, though. Not in this city," he chuckled. "But I keep a few unlicensed brothels where they do a very brisk business." He looked at Kyven. "Have you never been curious?"
Kyven gave a rueful chuckle. "My friend, there are three Arcan women here, and only one man… and he's little more than a boy."
Shario grinned. "Say no more, say no more," he said with a sly little wink. "But you certainly are not the first, nor will be the last. Arcan women are like masturbation, my friend. All men have done it, but few admit to it."
Kyven laughed.
"But let's change the subject. Between our little friends' display of affection and this conversation, I believe I'll be going home curious. It will be worse given I'll be staring at Lightfoot's naked little body all night, and she's not timid at all about it."
"She catches your eye?"
"Climb up a rope under a naked woman and tell me your eyes wouldn't be drawn to her glory," Shario said, which made Kyven nearly drop the silverware as he laughed.
Despite Tweak's waylaying of Patches, dinner was served on time and without damage. The baked fish was amazingly tasty, marinated before baking and baked with vegetables and spices that infused with the flavored fish to produce an exquisite dining experience. Shario couldn't stop heaping praise on Patches. "Though I doubt my thanks can quite match the rather special way that little Tweak thanks you," he added with a clever little smile, that made Patches' fur on her face stand on end.
"At least she appreciates me," Tweak said with a grin.
"I'll fix it," Lightfoot announced, which made Tweak flinch and Clover and Kyven laugh.
"No claws!" Tweak demanded.
"Pain teaches," she shrugged.
"What kind of work did the Loremasters bring you, my friend?" Shario asked curiously.
Kyven saw no harm in telling him that much. "Cutting a very unusually shaped crystal. It's what you might call my specialty."
"Ah. I see, I see. Will it take you long?"
"I finished all my other orders so I can work on it undisturbed on Monday," he answered. "I don't want any distractions at all."
"That difficult?"
"It's not a crystal just any cutter would or should attempt," he answered honestly. "I'll have to be very careful with it. Usually one small mistake can be fixed without damaging the crystal, but this one will be completely ruined if I make even one tiny error. But at least they're paying me double guild standard fees for the job."
"As is only fair, given you are one of the few cutters capable of the work," Shario nodded. "You're a very talented cutter, my friend. You deserve the special pay that come with special skill."
Shario said no more about it, and Kyven wondered what the information might mean or matter to the cunning Flauren. He never asked about anything that didn't have an ulterior motive, and Kyven wondered what he might read into the information. He helped clear the table and wash the dishes, showering Patches with the usual praise he afforded her after a meal, then bade them all a good night. Kyven locked the doors after he left, then gave Lightfoot a hearty smile and laugh when she grabbed Tweak by the wrist.
"Training before I go," she announced, and Clover waved at the complaining young ferret as the cat literally dragged him up the stairs.
It would be a very busy day.
Kyven woke early because he was he was too anxious and excited to sleep any more. Tonight, Sunday night when the Loremasters' building would be least populated, Kyven was going to infiltrate it for the first time. He had a lot to do before then, though, and those tasks were what pulled him out of bed well before sunrise, pulled him out of the arms of a sleepy coyote who didn't want to surrender him to duty. Clover had become a near fixture in his bed every night, though they didn't make love quite that often. Clover was Arcan to the roots of her fur, and didn't like to sleep alone. If she didn't share Kyven's bed, she could be found sleeping with one of the others. In some kind of unusual display of hierarchy, Clover came to his bed when she wanted his company, but the others came to her bed when she wanted it. She didn't confine herself to just Tweak when it came to a sleepmate, as she called it. She had Patches and Lightfoot in her bed as often as Tweak, though she did things with Tweak she wouldn't do with the girls. That wasn't to say Clover was overwhelmingly prim or recalcitrant around other women; clover was depraved enough to know a Shaman spell that induced sexual pleasure in women, which she had used on Patches to help break her of her fear of intimacy. She was comfortable enough with herself and other women to be intimately friendly, but only up to a point. She would go no further than that. Her spell was the extent of her willingness to push that particular boundary.
"Mmph, where are you going so early?" she asked, opening her eyes to the spirits in the dark room so she could see him, and also look around the house. It was a habit of hers.
Kyven went to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of leather trousers, then returned to the bed and sat down, his tail draping over Clover's legs under the quilt. "I want to get that Loremaster crystal finished today so I don't have it hanging over my head tonight," he answered. "Then I want to spend some time refreshing myself with the wall."
"You're up much too early, and you're much too restless," she complained. "You need to rest, or at the very least, relax."
"I'll take a nap this afternoon, and I'm going to relax a bit downstairs before I start," he promised as he unbuttoned the flap on the back of the trousers that fastened over his tail, which kept his pants up. "How's your head?"
"Never better," she smiled in reply. "I see Lightfoot is still out," she noted after looking through the wall.
"Having fun, no doubt," Kyven said with a light chuckle.
Clover disrupted his task by putting her hand on his upper thigh meaningfully, the tips of her short little claws just barely making contact with his member. "We should follow her example," she said throatily, sliding her hand down and fondling him, then cupping his testicles.
"We are feeling better," he chortled, leaning back over her legs and letting her have her feel.
"Oh yes much," she said thickly, grasping him gently, then teasingly pinching the tip of his penis. "You should not be getting out of bed so early, so it's my duty to keep you here by any means necessary," she told him.
"Oh, any means necessary?" he challenged. "As in you'll lick me?"
"I'll bite you," she teased as his member began to stir. "Arcan girls don't do that. No prehensile lips," she teased. "Besides, why should we, when we can do so much more than human women when you do it the way nature intended? What you'll feel putting this where it belongs far outstrips what you'd feel if I put it in my mouth."
"Well, I can't refute that logic," he said, leaning back more on his hands as she fondled him into arousal. "But human men have a kind of fondness of oral sex. It's very erotic, because it's so exotic."
"And Arcans aren't exotic?"
He laughed. "No argument there. I think your plan is working," he noted dryly as he looked down at his expanding member.
"I believe it is," she said winsomely.
Kyven was grateful to Clover. All the anxiety he felt when he woke up, that kept him from falling back asleep, was channeled into a harmless and entertaining diversion. He pulled the covers off of the coyote, and as she laughed and mock protested, he returned the favor by touching and fondling her breasts and labia, until she hummed in her throat and leaned back in invitation. He wasted no time accepting it, pushing himself easily into her as she gripped his shoulders, looking up at him with sultry, sensual eyes. Those eyes never left his as he settled fully inside her, challenging, inviting, beckoning, telling him to take her in any way he wished, that she was there for him, there to comfort him and help him calm down, relax, and burn off some of his nervous energy.
He took her, almost acting like Tweak. She found herself driven down into the bed as he drove into her, and he felt her short, sharp little claws dig into the fur on his back as he made the whole bed shake with powerful thrusts. He thrust into her, hard and heavy, for far longer than any male that wasn't a Shaman could have maintained… for only a Shaman had the physical conditioning and control to last so long at such a pace without climaxing.
Clover didn't complain. She couldn't do much of anything but lay there and let him have his way with her, panting fiercely between growls and groans, even when he hiked her legs up so the pads of her feet pointed at the ceiling and the base of her tail was completely off the bed. He continued the heavy, fast strokes until she clenched around him, and the sudden powerful grip on him immobilized him and spurred him to climax. He dropped down on her and pushed himself as deeply into her as he could go, felt the lips of her vagina grip the very base of his penis, and spent himself into her. He collapsed on top of her as they panted together, her hands gripping the fur on his shoulders and back as she wrapped her legs around him.
"Ooooh, Clover, you know how to make a man happy," he sighed, feeling her breathing push her small breasts into his chest.
"You certainly return the favor," she said with a breathless laugh. "Feel better now?"
"Much," he said with a lick to her cheek. "Care to make me feel even better?"
"For as long as you want, you silly man," she laughed. "You certainly needed this."
"For more than one reason," he sighed in contentment. "Thank you, Clover."
"Any time, my friend. What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave this bed nervous and out of sorts? It would make cutting that crystal very difficult."
"You make it sound like work," he teased.
"It's a labor of love," she grinned at him.
"Or a labor of lust," he noted.
She laughed. "Point. It's an open invitation, my friend. If you find yourself getting nervous or anxious today, I'm here for you. Make use of me. Better to spend your nervous energy on me than with pointless worry or pacing."
"Sex as therapy. Maybe we should introduce this to the humans," he noted clinically, which made her laugh and slap his shoulder.
A little playful slapping, biting, and wrestling turned into another heavy session of shuddering bedsprings, this time with her kneeling and him behind her, his hands roaming all over her breasts, torso, and dipping between her legs to vigorously rub her as he stroked himself forcefully into her. She just knelt there with her hands on the bed and her head arched back, accepting his weight as he leaned down over her and took full command of her lithe body with one hand around her stomach and the other roughly kneading her breasts by turns. She climaxed quickly, and he again gripped her with husky growls and penetrated as deeply into her as he could go, allowing her to drive him to his own climax, reveling in the sensation of earthbound heaven. He draped his muzzle over her shoulder and panted huskily, his arms trembling as he held her bottom pressed hard against his hips.
"Kyv, you're about to break my tail," Clover gasped as he pulled her even harder against him. He shifted enough to let her pull it out from between them, then she sighed and reached behind her and patted his muzzle. "Mmm, I think we've about burned up all that nervous energy," she cooed, then gasped and laughed when he wiggled himself against her bottom. "Surely not again!" she protested.
"No, I think I'm done," he chuckled, licking her cheek. "You're a wonderful girl, Clover. In both ways."
She giggled girlishly. "It's so nice to be appreciated."
"Oh, I appreciate this," he said, touching her cheek. "And this," he said, touching her chest, over her heart. "And I certainly appreciate this," he said thickly, sliding his hand down to lightly touch her, which made her shiver, and then giggle again.
"Flirt."
"It's not flirting to do it now," he retorted, which made her laugh.
Clover was such a gift from the Trinity. Kyven was able to go downstairs, get a bit of cold meat and cheese, and sit down to start working on the Loremasters' crystal without any nervousness or anxiety. She had calmed him down a great deal, and after breakfast, he was able to seat himself at his table and get to work on a very challenging crystal. And it was very challenging. He spent over an hour studying the crystal with practiced eyes, and had pulled out his rarely used slateboard to make some sketches and some planned cuts, meticulously planning this job because it was the only way it was going to be done. After that extensive preparation, he took a short break for something to drink, then pulled the cover off his rack of chisels, picked up his tiny hammer, and went to work.
It was almost like taking his first year test again, that stressful examination that determined the fate of his entire life. He had passed that test, years ago, and he passed this one. For long hours he worked with absolute concentration, barely aware when Lightfoot returned at sunrise, not hearing Patches as she snuck past him and into the kitchen, and then took enough food for the others back upstairs. Everyone was staying out of his way, not distracting him, but that was a needless precaution. He was lost completely in his work, and his entire universe had focused down to the jagged black crystal before him. Slowly, with painstaking care, the difficult crystal's exterior was chipped away, as Kyven reduced it by one point in weight to unlock the power inside of it, a necessary sacrifice given the almost crippling central flaw that would have allowed him to cut the crystal into almost perfect halves. He did take the majority of that point off in one chunk, leaving a half point crystal chip that might be useful to the Loremasters in some other way.
It took him nearly seven hours of constant work, and he did not stop until he was done. It was past noon when he made the final tiny cut, chipping off a nearly imperceptible little burr on the underside of the crystal, and then he carefully cleaned the result with a crystal blanket, leaving it glossy and smooth. He swept up the chips and dust on the shallow pan that cutters kept under their stands and carefully got every single little mote of black crystal dust into a silk pouch; that was the property of the client, not his, and he had to return it to them. He then blew out his breath, leaned back, and scratched his muzzle to admire his work. The crystal was still jagged, two jutting spires sticking out at angles from a knobby center, but it was now focused, and would serve as a stable and strong source of power for whatever dark device in which it was placed.
Kyven was again a little unsettled at the idea of cutting a crystal that might power a device that killed Arcans in the coming war. He was working for the enemy… but to do what he was sent here to do, to win back his humanity, he would have to do that unpleasant thing. In the long run, it might save more lives than this crystal took if he took back information to Haven that helped the Arcans either avert, win, or escape from the war to come. This crystal might kill a hundred Arcans, and that would be blood on his hands. But if those hundred died to save the tens of thousands that remained, he could only hope they would consider that a good trade for their lives.
Sometimes, there were no happy endings.
He scrubbed his muzzle with his clawed hands, and realized he was not shrouded in illusion. He was just glad that the shop was locked up; if Shario had barged in on him while he was cutting and saw him as he really was, things would have gotten very, very ugly. Kyven would have had to kill the Flauren thief, and he'd rather not do that. He was a valuable source of information, and he was also something of a friend, the only real friend he had in Avannar outside of the Arcans in the shop. He'd certainly allow no one else to come eat dinner with him.
He took the crystal and the shavings down to the vault, and set them on a little stand by the door as he sat down at his desk and attended to the other business. There were several pieces of parchment in the bin under the device that let them communicate with the cell of the Masked here in Avannar, and they had sent Kyven some communications. He sat at his desk and leafed through them, seeing that they were status reports that were sent from Haven; though the Masked here had no idea what Haven was. They thought they dealt with the Shaman. Operation Auction was in full force, he saw from the communiqués, and thus far no major problems or complications had come to light. The Masked cells in the major cities were reporting that Arcans were being shipped to the border villages in endless caravans, which were then bought up by the Masked agents and moved into the frontier lands. There were some grumblings in a couple of them that kennel masters in the major cities were getting suspicious that something was going on, mainly because they were finding their attempts to buy Arcans from other cities hard to do. Those cities were also shipping Arcans out to border villages, and they didn't have any Arcans to spare to sell to another Arcan trader. They were trying to buy as well.
As expected, this sudden run on Arcans was driving up the prices. The market for Arcans here in Avannar had almost doubled in just a week since the operation began, and it was trickling down into some segments of the Arcan commodity economy. Furriers and tanners were finding Arcans to buy to slaughter for their fur and hides to be hard to find, since the kennel masters were sending every Arcan they could get their hands on to Atan, Two Rivers, and Brandollan, a large mining village on the southern edge of the Free Territories. Arcans were suddenly more valuable alive than dead. Arcan meat too was becoming scarce, and it was suddenly more expensive than beef or mutton, a fact that shocked quite a few humans who fed Arcan meat to their own Arcans. Furriers, tanners, and butchers were raising prices, and that effect had no doubt caught the attention of the Loremasters. That made tonight's infiltration even more critical, because it was absolutely vital that Haven and the Shaman know what the Loremasters were planning to do.
That was why he was here.
It was having a broader effect as well. Slave ships from Cheston and Alamar were suddenly overwhelmed with contracts to move Arcans, and kennel masters were fighting over any available contracts.
It was happening almost exactly as Danna and the council had expected. They had foreseen all of this, and according to the messages passing through the Masked networks, everything was transpiring as expected. Where Kyven would come into play was to be there to warn them of the Loremasters' response to the plan, so they could adapt without having to pull back. That made tonight's infiltration critically important, because that infiltration would tell him where to go and where to look the next time he went in to find information. It also told him that this week, he needed to troll the bars and make contact with several of the Loremaster workers he'd already met to dig for information.
Shario. It was time to start hiring Shario. Putting Shario and his extensive organization to work on this would be useful.
He leaned back in the chair, his tail slashing behind him, pondering both the events sent to him by the Masked and what he knew, and what he was preparing.
Things were starting to move.
The door opened, and Clover stood in the opening, lithe and attractive since she'd not yet put on any clothes. "Looking for another session?" Kyven asked with a slight smile.
She laughed. "Only if you want one," she answered. "Shario just left. He brought ingredients for Patches and has asked to have dinner tonight. I told him that you would be very busy with the crystal, and it might have to wait until another day. He asked you to send a message telling him when was good for you."
"Why don't you go fetch him now, Clover?" he asked. "I think I'd like to talk to him."
She raised her furry brow. "Something happen?"
"Just what we expected," he answered, holding up the pieces of paper. "Read through them when you get back. Things are happening exactly as Danna and the council predicted, at least so far. I think it's time to make use of our friendship with Shario."
Clover took the papers and glanced over the top one, taking in the meaning of it quickly. "You'll set him to this?" she asked, holding up the paper.
Kyven nodded. "I think we can assume that Shario can find out anything the Loremasters can find out. How much he learns will be a good measuring stick against what the Loremasters can uncover."
"Not precisely, but a good idea nonetheless," Clover countered. "The Loremasters have access to more resources and alchemical devices for ferreting out information, which Shario lacks. But it is a good idea to see what Shario can find out, to see how well our plan is working."
Again under his familiar human illusion, now so easy for him that he barely had to think to create and maintain it, he went back up and waited for Shario by practicing posts, as Patches and Tweak stayed upstairs, no doubt Tweak trying to either practice to where the older women wouldn't tease him or take his frustrations out on the only girl in the shop that didn't mind his lovemaking style, and Lightfoot was skulking around somewhere. This was allowed by Kyven, since it was Sunday, and the shop didn't work on Sunday. Very few shops were open today; closing on Sunday was a tradition so old that almost no one knew where it came from or why they did it. It was a custom that had become a custom for custom's sake. Practicing with the Arcans had put him back into form, more or less able to hit anything on the board he pleased from the standard distance, but Kyven had taken the little game with Timble to heart, and he now practiced from all the way across the room. The increased distance made playing from tournament distance almost easy. Clover brought back Shario while he was practicing, and the swarthy Flauren laughed when he saw what Kyven was doing.
"I think you're a bit too far back off the line, my friend," he grinned.
"It makes it more challenging," Kyven said. "You said to me once that anything was for sale, Shario. Did you mean it?"
"Of course I meant it," he said, his voice turning serious almost immediately.
"Good. Yesterday, someone offered me a sum of money that's entirely out of line for my Arcans," he said. "So I asked around, and it seems that there's not an Arcan in any kennel in Avannar that's available. I've never heard of a kennel running out of Arcans before. I made note of it to my partner Timble in our daily message, and he said the same thing is happening in Atan. Something weird is going on, and I think I'd like to know what it is."
"And you wish me to find out for you?"
Kyven nodded, then went back to the board and pulled his knives from it. "See what's going on, Shario. Something certainly is."
"And how much would this information be worth to you?"
"Five hundred chits," he answered.
"A steep sum for a crystalcutter," Shario noted.
Kyven gave him a steady look. "If someone's going to try to kidnap Clover when she's out running errands, I want to know about it," he said grimly. "It's worth the money to know if my precious Arcans are in danger."
"Of course," he said mildly, though his smile betrayed his thoughts. Shario knew that Kyven wasn't entirely what he appeared to be, since he spent so much of his time trying to learn Kyven's secrets. But it was time to use Shario's abilities for something constructive.
"Find out for me, Shario. Something's going on, and I want to know what it is."
"I have noticed some unusual movements in the Arcan markets lately," Shario said, scratching his goatee thoughtfully. "A lot of Arcans have been shipped out into the hinterlands. Someone out there is buying Arcans like mad, drying up the markets in Avannar. At first, I thought it was just some construction project someone was working on out there, but if the same thing is happening in Atan, well, that's another matter. Someone's trying to corner the Arcan market."
"Something is certainly going on, and I want to know what it is," Kyven said.
"I'll find your answers for you, my friend. There's nothing that goes on in this city I don't know about," he said with a boastful smile. "Or I won't find out if I have a mind to do so. May I stay for dinner?"
"I'm afraid not tonight, Shario. I'm still working on that crystal, I'm just taking a short break to settle myself. It's a very nervous business. Tomorrow is just fine though."
"Tomorrow it is. I may have something for you, and you will have my five hundred for me," he said with a smile.
"It'll be here."
Shario let himself out, and Clover locked the door before coming back into the shop. "Not much of a cover story," she noted seriously.
"He knows I'm not who I appear to be, why waste energy with a convoluted lie?" he asked simply, sending a knife whizzing across the room, sinking into the board.
"To at least keep up appearances?" she answered.
"Well, Clover, how would you go about asking for that kind of information when you have absolutely no business needing it?" he asked pointedly.
She was quite a moment, then chuckled. "True," she nodded. "But why plant the seed that something's going on?"
"Simple," he answered, throwing another knife. "They will know that something's going on, and they have access to much more information and more resources than Shario. Whatever Shario can find out, they'll find out. By putting Shario on the trail of a mystery and seeing what he uncovers, it'll give us an idea of what the Loremasters discover."
"Yes, that's true. You've matured so quickly," she smiled at him. "From a simple craftsman to a spy in a little under a year."
"I seriously think it's in my blood," he grunted, throwing the last knife. "I never thought like this until after she did this to me," he said, holding out his furry hand. "And Umbra is every bit as conniving as me. It has to be some kind of shared trait between us and her."
"Well, you're not a normal Arcan," she acceded. "So there's no doubt that there might be a little tampering. She did create you. I have no doubt she added a few little, modifications to make you better at this. That or humans are just naturally cunning," she grinned.
"Given our history, I won't debate that one with you," he chuckled. "I'm going to go take a nap. Make sure I'm awake before sunset."
"I will. I'll have Patches make something for you. You don't want to go in there hungry."
At sunset, he felt he was prepared.
After the nap, he went back down to the vault and studied the wall until every name and general location known to be connected to that name was committed to memory, and he could recall a name almost instantly. He could answer any question without any hesitation, and that was the level of memorization he felt was required. After refreshing his memory with the wall, he went upstairs and deliberately, slowly, removed his clothing. It made him feel… vulnerable, somehow. He was going into the lair of the enemy, and he was doing it without weapons, without armor, without even clothes. It would just be him, his knowledge, his quick memory, his Shaman powers, and his control over shadow. Small weapons in the face of the opposition, who controlled the entire populated tracts of the continent of Noraam, and no doubt had defenses and traps waiting for him inside. The Loremasters considered Shaman to be their mortal enemy, and he had absolutely no doubt that they had protected their headquarters against them.
And Kyven would be invading that home base.
He came downstairs and had to laugh when Clover gave him a catcalling whistle, then he sat down to a light yet filling meal of baked vegetable casserole and strips of lean raw mutton. Patches was very nervous, and Tweak kept looking at Kyven. But Lightfoot and Clover were unperturbed, joining him at the table. Kyven himself was a little nervous, but there was also an almost irresistible excitement about the idea of what he was about to do. He would be putting all his training to the test, the ultimate test, and it would be a challenge of not just his powers, but of his mind. He'd have to think fast, adapt, just work with what he had and do his best. There was no way to plan for this, since he had absolutely no idea what was in there waiting for him. It would be a true test of his powers and his ability to deal with the unknown.
The only semblance of a plan he had was that he would go in under the illusion of a page. The Loremasters didn't take time off; there were workers in that building every day, at every hour. The people who worked over the night weren't important people, they were cleaners, low-level bureaucrats whose job was to organize things for the people who worked during the day and do much of the tedious paperwork amassed by those who worked in the evenings, and the guards that patrolled the place. Even in the dead of night, there were pages. Pages were children, young boys and girls whose job was to carry messages from department to department. Pages were the first step on the road to being a Loremaster for many, for pages often entered service after they came of age. Even in the middle of the night, there would be pages in that building, running whatever messages needed to be carried. Kyven could have imitated a Loreguard or a bureaucrat, but he felt that mimicking a page would be the best course of action. Hiding behind the innocence of a child might make those who came across him less threatening, and he could always proclaim to be lost; the newest pages were the ones that worked the unpleasant nightshift, so he could claim that he was lost and have a measure of believability.
The only thing he would take with him was a piece of paper. Kyven had seen the Loremaster seal, so that piece of paper would be the prop upon which he would place an illusion making it appear to be a sealed message. The illusory writing could be changed at Kyven's whim to match whichever department he claimed to which he was going, and that would allow him to be able to talk his way past anyone who challenged him. Since he knew where departments were as far as which floor they were on but not exactly where on that floor they were, it would let him get to the right floor and then ask someone for directions.
The others were quiet. They knew how dangerous this was going to be, so they didn't chatter or banter, they just gave Kyven his space and time to quietly compose himself. Patches and Tweak were obviously worried about what he was going to do, but Lightfoot and Clover were quite at ease. Clover knew he was good, and trusted his abilities, and very little really flustered Lightfoot in any way. Kyven decided to break the somber mood. "So, anyone want anything while I'm out?" he asked casually.
Clover laughed, but Patches looked mortally offended. "You shouldn't joke about this, Kyven!" she said nervously. "It's going to be dangerous! I'm going to be up all night worried sick about you!"
"Don't worry about me, little one, I'll be just fine," he smiled. "I'm not doing anything overtly dangerous or tricky tonight, just learning my way around. I'll be back before you know it," he said soothingly. "The worst thing I'll do tonight is ask some sleepy bureaucrat if I'm on the right floor."
"I, I hope so," she said, looking at her plate. "I'm just scared, that's all."
"No reason not to be scared. I'm a little nervous myself," he admitted. "But what we're doing is all about facing up to that fear and doing what has to be done. That's what we're here to do, little one. I told you before we started that this would be dangerous. We have to face that danger, because we're the only ones who can do this."
"No, you're the only one who can do this," Tweak said. "We're not doing that dangerous stuff."
"You help provide the cover that lets me do my job, Tweak. You and the others are just as important as I am. We're a team. It takes all of us to do this job. If I didn't have the shop, if I didn't have you, I'd never be able to do what I was sent here to do."
That made Tweak smile a little.
Lightfoot stood up. "I'm coming," she announced.
"I told you, not today."
"I'll wait outside," she said. "But I'm coming."
"As long as you're careful."
She gave him a flat look, her black and white stripes almost seeming to bristle.
"Well, if you're coming, then get ready. No weapons," he warned. "Just you."
She deliberately reached for the buckle of her belt, and removed it. Kyven had to resist certain impulses that had become a conditioned reflex at the sight of her taking off her belt… and was glad that he was still sitting down so he could avoid a few comments from Clover over it. He finished his light meal, only eating enough to feel that it would tide him over, then stood up and looked to Lightfoot. "Let's go."
Like a pair of ghosts, Kyven and Lightfoot left through the back door of the shop, and then slipped off into the night. At first he thought Lightfoot's bizarre, almost unique fur pattern would make it hard for her to move stealthily, but that was a dumb assumption. The lithe cat moved with utter silence, and she slinked through the shadows like a prime hunter, invisible and silent. Kyven stalked with her, keeping to the shadows in the early night, his fur and shadow powers rendering him utterly invisible so long as he was within the shadow. The pair of them ghosted through Avannar on their dangerous mission, and Kyven felt a strange… joy at running on all fours in the warm early summer night, sliding from shadow to shadow, with the smells of the city in his nose and the faint, almost nonexistent sounds of his partner touching his ears as she loped quietly behind him. They picked their way through the city, taking alleys and little-used back streets, until they reached the river and the lit island of the Loremasters came into view, light shining off their four-towered building of stone, steel, and glass that shone like a beacon to all who beheld it, a bastion of the power of the Loremasters and all the majesty that power entailed.
"Wait here," Kyven whispered as they looked at the building from the mouth of a narrow, crooked alley just one block from the inn where he had stayed when he first visited Avannar as a human.
"Be careful," Lightfoot warned, leaning over and licking his cheek.
"I intend to be," he answered seriously, then he stood up on his legs and cloaked himself in the illusion of a sleepy-looking young blond-haired boy with a handsome face, wearing Loremaster livery. The face was a real face, and it belonged to a young man named Aldin Vonner. Aldin Vonner was a page, the youngest son of an alchemist, and only having just started working as a page a week ago, but he was not slated to work this night. Kyven had discovered this in his dealings with Veraad, and had sought out the young Aldin to learn his face to use as a cover for his infiltration into the building this night under the guise of looking into an alchemical room cooling device which Aldin's father sold in his shop. The identity of Aldin Vonner would get him into the building, but the lack of experience that people within had with young Aldin, only being there a week, would let him avoid any kind of intimate conversation that might make anyone suspicious. Aldin was the perfect foil to use to get into the building and pretend that he belonged, but also not make his unfamiliarity with the building suspicious.
As usual, there was a kind of disconnection when using an illusion that was of a different height than his own. It was always much easier to attach the illusion to himself, making it move as he moved, but that height difference meant that his head and the illusion's head wouldn't match if he was looking at someone from close distance. When that moment came, he'd have to detach the illusion from himself and make it move independently, having it look up while he looked straight ahead, and that would increase the demand the illusion had on him. But, the illusion was good for one thing; underneath it, he could open his eyes to the spirits and not have the glow of his eyes give him away. When he did so, the guards at the bridge lost their uniforms, but their alchemical weapons and devices were quite apparent to his eyes. All of them carried shockrods, and the floating black balls at their waists told him that the shot in their pistols carried black crystal slivers, probably making them fatal, ensuring that even the most glancing hit with the pistol ball would kill… just as Danna's pistol had killed Claw with what was effectively a graze. The guards advanced on him as he approached, then took a look at his livery and the folded paper in his hand, and waved him through without challenge, without even a word.
Just as they had done for every other page he had seen gain entrance to the island.
Once past the bridge guards, he knew he was home free. He filed into the building, still carrying the note, and then drew on the information he'd gathered to walk through the atrium and into a passage on the far side that led to the staircases that went up and down. Kyven's eyes searched all around him, searching for any sign of any alchemical device built into the walls, floor, or ceiling, searching for any traps or warnings or anything that might give him away. But the walls were quite mundane, and he was able to look through them without effort. He could see three floors up, but that far up, he did start seeing glowing auras that denoted that magic of some kind was in action higher up.
As he expected. The higher one went, the more important, and thus the greater level of protection. There would be more guards up there, and possible alchemical traps, and who knew what else. But down here on the first floor, which was all but deserted because it dealt with low-level city issues, there were no protections, just a single patrol of guards roaming the hallways on the other side of the building.
There were guards stationed at the stairwell to the second floor, and given there was no one up there, he'd never talk his way past them by claiming to have a message, so he bypassed that floor for now and went to the staircase that led to the higher floors. He went up about halfway and saw that there were people on the third floor, both guards and a few bureaucrats and servants… which were serving in more ways that one, given what he could see about halfway across the building. Kyven could see through stone and wood, so it was rather apparent to him what was going on to see the Loremaster sitting on seemingly nothing with the head of a young woman in his lap. He could tell the Loremaster from the servant because the Loremaster was carrying an alchemical device on his belt that was apparent to his eyes. But watching some Loremaster get oral sex from a cleaning girl wasn't what he was there to do. He changed his note to show that it was meant to go to the Department of Continental Roads, which was on the third floor, and filed up the guards stationed at the landing of the stairs.
"Where are you off to, lad?" one of the guards asked, a grizzled older veteran with steel gray hair.
Kyven held up the paper and let him read it. "I'm supposed to slip it under the door if nobody's there, sir," he said.
"Aye, aye. Go ahead," he said, waving Kyven through.
"Umm, which way do I go? I'm still learning my way around," Kyven said in a helpless tone.
"I thought they gave you pages a tour," the other guard said.
"Well, they go so fast," Kyven said in a humble tone, which made the grizzled man laugh.
"Cut the lad some slack, Arbi. I've seen Loremasters wandering around lost in here," he said. "Take the left passage, and then turn at the first right. You'll see their office door on the right."
"Thank you, sir!" Kyven said in a suitably grateful voice, then scurried off in the indicated direction. However, once he was out of sight of the guards, he cast his eyes about in all directions, making sure there were no alchemical devices anywhere that might give him away. He quickly moved through the hallways, making note of where every single office was, moving through the third floor with efficient speed; he was under a time limit here, for those guards knew he was here and would come looking for him if he was gone too long. Luckily, though, the third floor was not deserted, and he moved to an occupied office, the Department of Guild Relations, and knocked politely on the door before opening it. The middle-aged, crow-footed woman inside was sitting at her desk, and looked up at him from her work. "What is it?" she asked, a bit surly. She was rail thin, he could see, and her body showed the marching of the years in an unattractive manner. Kyven couldn't see her desk or clothes, so he could see just about everything about her, and found it unattractive, from her spindly legs to her sagging breasts, tiredly constrained by material he couldn't see but clearly showing the years of being pulled by gravity on their tops.
"I was delivering to another department, ma'am, and thought I'd see if you need anything sent off or needed anything before I go back."
The woman gave him a grunt, then pulled something from a little bin behind her. "As a matter of fact, you can," she said. "This was to go to the Department of Alchemy tomorrow morning, but you can slip it under the door."
Kyven hurried into the office and took the bundle of papers, tied together with twine and the knot sealed with wax, and bowed to her. "I'll take it straight away, ma'am," he told her.
Kyven used the package as an excuse to continue his prowling of the third floor. He memorized the location of every office on the floor, and noted which offices were empty and which ones had workers in them. The Department of Guild Relations wasn't the only occupied office this night. The Department of Public Health and the Department of Farms were also occupied, the Department of Farms being the one holding the amorous couple, and maids were cleaning several other offices. Once he had full stock of how things stood on the third floor, he looked at the sheaf of papers in his hand. The Department of Alchemy was on the fifth floor, and from what Kyven had learned from the many men and women he'd talked to in bars and taverns, it dealt with alchemical devices, not alchemists themselves. It kept a record of all known alchemical devices, their function, and often who had invented them, trying to keep abreast of all alchemical advances and know what was out there. Danna's interest in what she thought was a new alchemical device had been one of the reasons she had chased him, and that information would have been sent to the Department of Alchemy.
The package meant he had to skip the fourth floor for now, and that didn't set well with him. One of the important departments was on that floor, the Department of Arcan Control. That office was going to be of critical importance to Kyven over the summer, and that was one of the main reasons he was here. Getting to know that office was going to be nearly as important as learning where the council chambers and the offices of the important people were.
He went back to the same stairs, and the grizzled guard chuckled when Kyven approached holding the sheaf of papers. "They got you before you could leave, eh?" he asked.
"I don't mind, sir, it's better than sitting around trying to stay awake."
The man laughed, and his surly partner joined in. "That's the Trinity's own truth," the surly guard agreed, his face looking much less suspicious.
"Where do you have to deliver that?"
"Umm, the Department of Alchemy," he said. "That's on the fifth floor, right?"
"Right, but you're coming to the wrong stairs if you want to get there quickly," the grizzled man said helpfully, pointing down the central hall that extended out from the landing. "Go to the stairs on the far side, they come up right at the office door."
"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully, his illusion giving him a smile, and then he turned and hurried down the central passage. The stairs were on the far side, and the two flights of stairs were literally visible at opposite ends of the long passageway. It was, to Kyven, a very smart defensive layout, allowing the guards at either stairway the ability to see both stairwells. Kyven showed the package to the guards at the other stairs, a hawk-like looking young man and, surprisingly, a lithe woman with short brown hair, pretty green eyes, and the cutest little heart-shaped birthmark just over her pubic hair, and they let him pass with smiles and kind words.
Kyven felt that using a page as his cover was a very good idea about then.
As he went up the stairs, past the fourth floor, he looked up and frowned. Above him, on the sixth floor, he was starting to see magical auras that marked alchemical devices. They were set into floors and walls and ceilings, and were obviously some kind of defensive system to deter, reveal, entrap, or kill invaders. But it also made sense that they would be up there, for everything above the fifth floor was considered highly sensitive, where the Loremasters kept their important offices and departments, and were the working areas of the most important people in the organization. He had fully expected to see some kind of magical defense within the building, and realized that the Loremasters didn't consider the lower floors to be important enough to protect using very expensive alchemical devices. They saved that level of protection for the most important and sensitive areas. His disguise may not work up there.
Kyven smiled his way past the pair of guards at the landing of the fifth floor, showing them his package, and they pointed him to the very first door on the left in the center hall of the fifth floor, the words DEPARTMENT OF ALCHEMY etched into the wood and filled with bronze or some kind of golden metal. Beyond the door, Kyven could see four workers, a maid, and the magical auras of many alchemical devices, the crystals in them powering them. Kyven knocked politely and then opened the door and stepped inside, looking at the four workers and maid. Two of them were older men, one was a middle-aged woman with graying hair, and the fourth was a handsome, athletically built young man with black hair and, Kyven noted, a truly large penis, so large that Kyven couldn't help but notice it… and he doubted that middle-aged woman didn't miss it either. Kyven couldn't see the young man's clothes, but a bulge like that would be hard to hide, even under a surcoat.
Such were the dangers of seeing people unclad. It let one see all kinds of things, be them good or bad. "I have a package from the Department of Guild Relations," he announced, holding up the twine-bound papers.
"I'll take it, lad," the shorter of the two older men announced, holding a hand up from his desk towards Kyven.
"Do you have anything for me to deliver before I go?" he asked as he handed the package to the man.
"No, lad. Go on back to the page room."
"Thank you, sir," he said with a little bow, and then scurried from the room. He didn't go back downstairs, though. He produced his little paper and created an illusion that it was destined for the Department of Inter-Noraam Trade, which was another office he knew was on the fifth floor. He left the office and walked down the central passageway away from the guards, but they did not challenge his movement in the slightest. Pretending he knew where he was going, he took in every door along that central passage, noting which department it was, and also the personal offices of quite a few low-level functionaries; their names were emblazoned on their doors, as well as which department for which they worked. The Council of Advisors, the city council governing Avannar, had their personal offices on the fifth floor, but their council chambers were, oddly enough, on the fourth floor. That seemed quite curious to him.
At the far stairway, he turned to the left rather than try to go past the guards, giving them a smile and a wave to be social but not stopping to talk to them, so they couldn't find out where he was going. Again, pretending that he had a firm destination in mind caused them to let him go unchallenged. He memorized the doors along that passage, and then walked straight past the guards at the first stairwell and went down the right passage, memorized those doors, then turned back the way he came and changed his illusory missive to state that it was bound for the Department of Arcan Control and returned to the stairs. Again, the guards did not challenge him, just allowed him to pass, nor did the guards on the fourth floor challenge him when they saw the paper in his hand. They just gave him a curt but friendly greeting and allowed him to go about his assigned task. There was a patrol of moving guards on this floor, moving on the right side, so he went to the left. He took in the various doors on that side, noting a couple of departments he didn't even know existed, like the Department of Timber and Forest Resources and the Department of Fisheries, then went past the guards at the far stairwell with a smile and a nod and went down the right, watching the patrol of four roving guards as they now filed back towards him but in the center passage. He went down that passage and noticed that the Department of Arcan Control had to be in the center, going past a couple of departments and the private offices of several Loremasters, passing a couple of sleepy-looking maids who were pushing a cart holding cleaning supplies in the hallway. He came around and to the center passage, passed the stair guards once again, and padded down the hallway with both pairs of stair guards watching him. He wasted no time now that they might suspect he was either goofing off or up to something, and when he found himself at the door to the Department of Arcan Control, he knocked once and let himself in. Inside were no less than eight Loremasters, poring over documents at a table in the middle of the room, talking among themselves in puzzled tones. "Do you require anything, good masters?" Kyven asked from the door, taking in both the large office and the look of the people working in it.
They knew. They knew something was going on. They didn't know what it was, but they knew something was happening. That was why there were eight of them in here on a Sunday night. They were poring over reports from other cities and trying to make sense of what was going on, he was positive. That made this trip a good move, he saw. They had to know what was going on, and now he knew that they knew that something was happening, so he knew to start keeping a very close eye on this department. This was the department that looked to be responsible for finding out the truth.
"I'm glad you're here, I was just about to ring for a page," one of them said, a balding older man with wrinkles around his mouth and strange brown splotches all over his chest. "Have them send us up some dinner, and I also want you to take this up to the office of Evira Longsail," he said, picking up a paper, folding it into thirds, and then sealing it with wax. "I don't care which order you do it, just get both done quickly."
Kyven had to keep a professional look on his face. Evira Longsail was a name he knew, she was a member of the Council of States. And to deliver this message, he'd have to brave the sixth floor and the alchemical devices above.
"Yes sir, I'll go have your dinner sent up first, then deliver this message."
The man nodded, already back with the others, and Kyven heard snatches of their conversation as he moved back towards the door.
"–word from Jeyom is the same," one of them said. "No Arcans available. Have you got those missives from Alamar?"
"The Alamar situation is pretty straightforward," another voice said. "Someone's bought literally every single available Arcan in Alamar and marched them north, along with an army's worth of building materials and supplies. Someone is building something out there, something big, but finding that out isn't our department."
"I have something about that here. Here it is, it was reported that the Arcans were put in a camp on the Snake River about two days from Alamar. Whatever it is they're building, that's where they're doing it."
"But that doesn't explain what's going on up here," another voice said in concern. "There's barely a single Arcan for sale all the way up to Contann. In every city, it's the same. They're being shipped either out to the border towns or to Alamar. And in the border towns, the Arcans are being bought so fast the kennels can't keep up with the demand."
"So, the question is, what's going on out there in the border towns that's creating the demand?"
Kyven closed the door, his thoughts sober. They certainly knew something was going on, and he expected no less. But the key to it would be keeping the Loremasters in the dark enough to not know until it was too late, but not make it seem so threatening that they completely banned the sale of Arcans until they got to the bottom of it.
He definitely had information to send back to Haven.
But he had another matter to deal with. He hurried back to the first floor, to where the page room was located. It was where the pages waited to be summoned. He knew that they'd know that he wasn't supposed to be working tonight if he went there, so he bypassed the page room and the Page Master, who sent them out, and went straight to the kitchens, which were located in an outbuilding behind the Loremaster building, near the Loreguard barracks. A page would have been sent to make the order anyway, so Kyven just bypassed the order to go arrange the meal by doing it himself. He opened the door to the kitchens, and was almost immediately challenged by a large, tall, beefy woman with her hair in a stern bun and an even sterner look on her red face. "What ya' need?" she demanded.
"Ma'am, there are eight Loremasters in the Department of Arcan Control that wish dinner sent up to them," he said humbly. "But I can't stay to deliver it," he said, holding up the missive he had to deliver. "Could you please ring the page room and have them come take it up?"
"Aye, I'll take care of it, lad," she said with a nod. "Go get your delivery done."
"Thank you, ma'am," he said with a bow, then turned and hurried away.
All those talks with the workers had been a life saver, for it was what let him move confidently across the yard and back into the Loremaster building through the servant's door in the back, then back to the stairwell for the long climb up to the sixth floor. He wasn't alone on the stairs, though, for he passed another page who was on the way down, who gave him a curious look, and then a single young maid that looked a little harried, rushing downstairs for some reason. Kyven climbed past them all, and when he reached the landing of the sixth floor, he found himself facing his first major obstacle.
There was an alchemical device installed in the floor of the landing.
Kyven looked down at it and saw that it was attached to a metal plate that was nearly two feet across, stretching from wall to wall, making it impossible not to step on it without being blatantly obvious about it. He had no idea what the device did, but he also saw its weakness; it would put him into physical contact with it. Kyven could drain the device of its power with that physical contact, but that would leave a tell-tale mark that a Shaman had been through.
The solution was not to step on it. That took very little real effort, since he was invisible under his illusion. So, the guards on the far side of that metal plate saw a young blond page run across the metal plate with a fearful look on his face, while in reality, Kyven, under the illusion, leapt the metal plate without touching it. Kyven could separate himself from the illusion partially, but it had to remain in contact with him; if he totally separated from the illusion, he would become visible, so the illusion had to stay in contact with him, and it could only do that if it ran across the plate in time with Kyven's leap. The guards gave him a look and then both laughed as he hurried up to them and showed them the missive. "I'm taking this to Mistress Evira Longsail's office," he announced, holding it out to the guards. Both of them were mature, burly men who looked quite serious except for the amused looks they gave him when he appeared to run across the plate, and the taller of them took the missive and inspected it carefully.
"Go ahead, youngster," he said, handing the paper back to him. "And the floor won't hurt you, you know," he added with a grin.
"Umm, I've never delivered up here before, and you wouldn't believe the stories they tell down in the page room," he said apologetically, which made the guards laugh. "Where is her office?"
"Straight down and on the left, son," the other guard said.
"Thank you, sir," Kyven said with a nod of his head, then hurried down the center passage, the eyes of the guards on him all the way.
From what Kyven knew, this was the nexus floor for the towers. At each corner of the floor, there was a stairwell that led up to the towers. This was also the floor where the Council of States met, their council chambers and the offices of the vast majority of the council members on this floor. As a result, there was only one department that had its offices on the sixth floor, the Department of National Relations. The rest of the floor was dominated by the Council of State and the offices of its members and their staff. Kyven found her door, her name emblazoned on the stained wood in red letters. His spirit sight showed him that she was indeed in her office, and that the door itself was an alchemical device. Kyven did not want to risk touching the door, so instead of knocking, he created an auditory illusion that perfectly mimicked the sound.
"Enter!" she called from inside, glancing a look up at the door before going back to her desk.
Kyven wasn't quite certain of what might happen, but there was no help for it. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the door handle, but nothing happened. His illusion was holding, he heard no sirens or klaxons, he wasn't attacked, and the woman inside wasn't jumping from her chair and calling for the guards. Whatever the door did, it didn't seem to concern itself with him.
Evira Longsail was a woman in her forties, but was still rather handsome, with a proud nose and pointed chin framing sober brown eyes that had very faint wrinkles at the outsides. She was thin but not emaciated, and had a very nice figure for a woman her age. He couldn't see her clothes, but if her neatly done dark red hair was any indication, he had no doubt that her dress was well tailored and immaculately clean and well tended. She gave him a glance, then she fixed her eyes on him in a manner that didn't entirely give Kyven much confidence he'd get out of the room unscathed. That was a predatory look. Clearly this woman enjoyed taking more liberties with the pages than was entirely proper. "What do you want, page?" she asked, standing up.
Kyven noted absently that this woman had shaved off her pubic hair. Then again, on closer inspection, he realized she had no hair under her arms, nor did she even have eyebrows; the dark red lines over her eyes were drawn on. Was she that compulsive about body hair, or was it some kind of condition? He looked closely at her hair, and realized that that was real; if it were a wig, he wouldn't be able to see it. He could not see that which was not alive, nor was physically and intimately attached to what was alive. He wondered idly if she truly did shave off all her other hair, or if she was unable to grow it for some reason.
She noticed his look at her, and gave him a smile that made him almost flinch. "Do you have something for me, young man?" she asked in a purring voice.
"Uh, yes, Mistress, a message from the Department of Arcan Control. The master down there seemed it was quite important, he bade me bring it to you right away." He offered the sealed message to her.
He didn't like the way she was moving towards him. He found some real jeopardy here; if she touched him, just about anywhere, she was going to find out he was not a teenage boy, that he was not wearing clothes. She'd discover he was covered in fur, was about a foot taller than his illusion suggested, and clearly was neither human nor a teenage boy. His cover was in real danger, and it was from a source he had never really considered. Being challenged by guards, yes. A trap or device, yes. A mistake on his part, most possible… but to get discovered by being felt up by an amorous Loremaster hadn't really been on his list of possible dangers. He realized there was no way out of this, so he had to turn desperately to his only real option, and that was the illusion.
He had to believe, put so much substance into the illusion that it would fool her when she took the missive, for he had absolutely no doubt that she was going to grab his hand, maybe both of them. He thought furiously about human skin, how it felt, how it looked, even how it smelled and tasted, and poured it into the illusion, giving it as much detail as possible, far beyond the usual level of detail he imparted in his self-image he used around the shop. He imagined how young skin would feel to the woman; soft, warm, the feel of the individual hairs on the back of his hand tickling over her fingertips when she touched him, resilient to the touch but still soft. She would feel the bones of his hand underneath his skin, feel the ridges of the skin over his knuckles and the slight rises in the blood vessels on the backs of his hands, and she would feel hands that were smaller than her own, able to be cupped inside her long-fingered hands. He imagined how the wool of his uniform would feel under her fingers, warm, soft, a little fuzzy, and the smooth coolness of the embroidered Loremaster symbol on the chest of his page's doublet. He imagined how it would feel if she pulled up the hem, the weight of it, the way it would fold and crease around her hand, should she dare try to reach under his doublet to touch him.
She reached out for the missive, and he felt her hands swarm all over his own, caressing them in a way that made it abundantly clear she had more on her mind than work. He put on a startled, nervous expression at how her soft, strong hands seemed to caress his own, and prayed fervently that the substance he put in the illusion would fool her. He watched her intensely under the illusion, but the smile on her lips never changed or faded.
She had been deceived by his illusion.
She took the paper and broke the seal, then opened it, standing almost uncomfortably close to him. He wanted to flee from her, and for more than just one reason, but he knew he couldn't leave until she dismissed him. The predatory smile on her face slowly faded to a serious look, however, as she read the message. "They weren't joking that it's a serious report," she mused to herself, but that didn't stop her from reaching over and patting him on the shoulder, then leaving her hand there in almost caressing manner. "Yet another reason I'm working these hours," she grunted in a sigh, then turned and walked back to her desk. He noticed that she walked in a way that exaggerated the swaying of her hips; she was really trying to pique his interest… or the interest that a teenage boy might have in the form of a grown woman. "I tell you, my young page, it's almost criminal the work I've had to put in this week. I've had almost no time for anything else," she sighed, turning around and looking at him. "What's your name?"
"Aldin Vonner," he said almost immediately. "My father put me into service with the Loremasters just last week. I've just started serving, I finished training just two days ago."
"Ah, no wonder I've never seen you before," she smiled. "I'd certainly have remembered you, my young man. Come here."
Trapped, Kyven could only obey her or be discovered. He approached her, his illusory face nervous as he was in reality, and she put her hands on his shoulders fondly. "I need you to do me a favor, Aldin," she said softly. "I'm in need of strong hands to massage knots of tension from my shoulders. Be a dear and soothe my aches," she said, her hands moving to the buttons of her bodice. Kyven could already see everything under that bodice, which he could not see, so it seemed to him that her fingers were working on something invisible… as the nipples on her breasts began to harden.
Thank the Trinity for the knock at the door. The woman's eyes flashed darkly, and she quickly buttoned her bodice back up. "Enter!" she barked, but the irritation on her face melted away to be replaced by a mask of feigned friendliness. A tall, mature man with short salt-and-pepper hair entered, standing tall in the doorway. "I need to see you in my office," he said, and he gave Kyven a look that was cool and calculating. "Before you start playing with the pages."
"Yes, Councilor," Evira said immediately and respectfully.
It seemed that there wasn't just one pedophile employed by the Loremasters, nor was it restricted to men. Kyven made a note to avoid this woman from now on if he ever used a page illusion again. And what was more, this man seemed fully aware of the woman's appetites, but seemed unconcerned about them.
Councilor. That meant that this man, this graying man of impressive bearing, was a member of the Circle, the highest council of the Loremasters. It meant that he had an office either on this floor, if he was lower ranking, or in one of the towers if he was not.
Kyven beat a hasty retreat from the office of Evira Longsail, without even being dismissed, but the stern-looking man allowed him to go without a word or even a glance. He was shocked that something like that would actually happen, but he was also elated and very proud that he had put enough belief into the illusion to fool her when she touched his hands. She had never even blinked, fully believing that what she touched was a teenage boy's hands and not the furry hands of a fully grown Arcan.
He was beginning to understand. The substance of the illusion fostered belief… and it wasn't that he had to believe in the illusion himself, it was that he had to pour so much belief into the illusion, to the tiniest detail, that it took on the properties of the reality. Just as his first real illusion had weight because he had imagined it with weight, the sense of touch he had put into the hands of his illusion had fooled the woman into believing she was holding human hands. The more detailed he made it, the more real it became… real enough to fool a woman who probably took any opportunity she could to grab the hands of any young man within reach… and probably just about anything else.
The near miss made Kyven much more cautious, but now that he was on the sixth floor, he couldn't just leave because he was a little unsettled. He moved away from the stairs from which he ascended, his eyes scanning around for more alchemical devices, but only saw them as doors on the walls and devices at the stairwells. There were many in the towers, he could see, so many that he wasn't sure how he was going to get past them.
"Page!" came a familiar voice. Kyven stopped immediately and turned, and saw that same mature man, the Councilor, marching up to him with the woman in tow. "Come with me, I have a message for you to take downstairs."
"Yes, Councilor," Kyven said immediately and humbly, then he fell into step well behind the pair. He followed them to the stairs, and while the woman kept glancing back at him, Kyven passed the guards at the far stairs and started up. He kept careful eye on everything, noting that there was a lot of magic above them. They passed the first floor of the tower, and then the second, going up to the third level of the west tower, which meant that this Councilor worked closely with the Loremasters that dealt with the affairs of Noraam in general. Kyven followed them and listened to them discuss something that Kyven found very, very interesting. "So, they have no idea?"
"None yet, Councilor," the woman said. "The report is just that they're still working on it. Are you so sure that this is coordinated?"
"I have no doubt," the man said grimly. "I've been arguing the point with the Circle for years, Evira. The Arcans have structure beyond the Shaman. The Shaman are not stupid, and they have had years to bring some kind of order to the wild Arcans out in the frontier lands. I have no doubt they were capable of taming them to use them."
"But Arcans could never accomplish something like this. After all, Arcans can't walk into a kennel and buy other Arcans."
"Not alone, but there are any number of traitors among us. The Masked."
"The Masked?" she scoffed. "They're little bands of silly young men who steal Arcans and set them free, which really accomplishes nothing given the Arcans end up right back in the kennels inside a week."
"Evira, the Masked are highly organized and very effective," the man grunted. "Their cells are quiet, effective, and efficient. Only the pretenders act that way. The real Masked are a formidable group, because they are supported by the Shaman and their magic."
Again, Kyven found himself facing an unknown alchemical device, but where the one below was set into the floor, this one, at the landing of the stairs, was built like a tunnel that Kyven had to pass through in order to proceed, the walls, floor, and ceiling all shimmering with magical power, with misty tendrils of magical energy roping down from the ceiling to the floor, undulating like grass before a breeze. He saw the two of them stop by a little table in front of it, flanked by two guards who carried only pistols and swords, and the woman stopped to remove a couple of alchemical devices from her belt and place them on the table. Clearly, nothing magical could go through that device.
Kyven had no choice. He had to attack the device. He stepped up to the edge of the device, as if waiting for the woman to finish, and then ghosted his tail into the area of effect and set it against the wall. That contact gave him direct access to the large crystal powering the device, which was in the floor under them for easy access, and he drove his magical power into that device exactly as he'd seen Clover do. He struck directly at the crystal, diverting it, offering the crystal a different path for the magic to flow that had absolutely no resistance. The magic, following that easier path, rushed out of the crystal in a tidal wave, flowing into Kyven's body. He realized he didn't have to totally drain the crystal, just cripple the device for as long as it took him to get past it, since nobody seemed to notice that the device was suddenly not working, not even the guard stationed there. He maintained that touch on the wall with his tail as the woman finished unloading her three objects, and walked along the wall with his tail maintaining solid contact with the wall as he followed behind them, continuing to drain the power of the crystal and prevent it from powering the device. As soon as he walked out of reach of it, his tail touching mundane stone rather than the device, it winked back into operation as if nothing had gone wrong. Kyven, now all but charged with magical power, opened himself to the spirits, beseeching the fox not for energy to cast a spell, but beseeching her to take the magic away, drain it out of him.
And she complied. A connection opened between them, the same as when she granted him power to cast spells, but instead of giving the connection took. The magical energy he had stored in him drained safely away.
He had no idea what the device was supposed to do, but at least he was glad that it wasn't meant to try to kill Shaman. It probably had some kind of detrimental effect on crystals and magic, preventing anyone from passing through it under magical disguise given that the others had removed their alchemical devices before passing through. A pity for the Loremasters they had no idea of the true capabilities of the Shaman, for the Shaman kept their powers a secret. The Loremasters knew that Shaman could drain crystals and use them to power their magic, but what they did not know was that Shaman did not have to touch the crystal itself to do so. They only had to touch something built to channel magic that contained the crystal, giving them access to it, and that was the definition of an alchemical device.
And now he realized how they did it. A Shaman being held by an alchemical cage could simply disable it without totally draining the crystal, leaving it fully operational after they got out of it, making it look like the Shaman simply vanished like smoke from inside. Even a device designed to disrupt a Shaman's magical powers would be vulnerable if the Shaman could touch it. Magic was magic, whether it was granted by the spirits or drained from a crystal. The Shaman could use it either way, using the crystal of his constraining device to power a spell to get out of it.
"So, what do you think the Circle will decide?" Evira asked.
"I'm not sure, but for now, there's really nothing they can do," he answered. "There's nothing illegal going on, at least nothing we've found yet. We need to find out who's doing this and why before we can make any decisions. It may be something illegal, or it may simply be some rich eccentric trying to corner the market on Arcans by buying them to drive up the prices, then sell at a profit."
Kyven followed them to a large, ornate door, and it opened by magic at the touch of the mature, formidable man. "Page, I want you to take a message down to the Loreguard barracks," the man told him, moving quickly to his desk, going around it, then seating himself and picking up a writing quill. "You will bring the acknowledgement of the orders up to the guards at the stairs and give it to them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Councilor," Kyven said in a suitably impressed, awed voice at being in the office of such a high-ranking Loremaster.
The woman kept looking at him with heavy, smoldering eyes as he waited by the door for the man to stop writing, taking in the office with a steady eye. It was well appointed with functional furniture that was also aesthetic, but Kyven's eyes were drawn to the large shelf behind the man's desk, filled with books and papers. Given that this man seemed to be in charge of the attempt to find out what was going on, Kyven thought that a little rifle through that desk and those shelves would be very educational in the very near future. He'd be coming back to this office soon.
Kyven felt almost wildly lucky. This trip had been about finding things in the building and learning which offices he might need to investigate later, and he'd all but been handed this one. He still needed to investigate the rest of the building, but he could leave right now and feel that he had successfully accomplished his goal. On his very first infiltration, he not only found a very promising target, but he also overhears that the Loremasters did not know about Haven, but did know that the Shaman and the Masked were very organized. This Councilor seemed to suspect that the Shaman and the Masked were behind the strange Arcan movements, from the sound of his voice, but he had no proof, and seemed to want that proof before making any decisions. This was a methodical, organized, intelligent man, judging from what he'd heard and the condition of his office, and he would be a dangerous adversary.
The man held up a note, sealed with wax, and Kyven quickly advanced and took it. He then bowed and rushed from the room, but when he reached the door, a door with no handle, he was honestly puzzled. He heard the man chuckle. "Just touch the door and it will open," he said.
With a little sincere trepidation, which would look to them like a young man afraid of a magic door but in reality a Shaman's uncertainty that the door was trapped in some way. But, he had no choice. He had to play the part. Gritting his teeth under his illusion, he put his hand on the door.
It attacked him.
A powerful jolt erupted from the door, but Kyven was halfway ready for it. Still maintaining his illusion, he attacked the door the same way he attacked the device near the stairs. He opened a path for the magic that bypassed the alchemical device, which caused it to deactivate, caused that initial jolt to fade quickly. The door gave a visible shimmer of light as Kyven opened the door, but thank the Trinity, the man was deeply in discussion with the woman, and neither of them noticed it. He quickly rushed out, closed the door, and then let go of it. The door gave another visible shimmer of light, and he waited tensely to see if anyone charged out of the office shouting in alarm.
Nothing. He had made a lucky escape. Looking through the wall, he saw why. The man had gotten up from his desk and was standing right in front of the woman, and his hands were all over her bodice. He was much more interested in the woman's tits than he had been in the shimmering door.
He hurried out of the office before the man noticed anything awry, his mind already whirling, but not whirling so much that he didn't make a special note to memorize the name on the outside of the door. The office belonged to Councilor Jamus Abberdon. Perhaps this was a good place to count his blessings and get the hell out of there before something happened. He'd learned a great deal, and three near-misses in a matter of minutes had soured his desire to continue exploring. It was time to take his little victory while he could and run with it. He only had one thing left to do, and that was carry out the task the man had set before him. He again drained the device at the landing to get past it, doing so again without arousing the notice of the two guards, then all but ran down the stairs two by two, hurrying to the Loreguard barracks. He was spooked now, and he wanted to get this done and get his ass out of there, get back home with this information and pass it on, as well as think about this, about how they might disrupt the Loremasters' attempts to figure out what was going on. He was coming out of the building with much more than he expected to have, and now that he had it, he was suffering from the thief's complex; get out with the booty.
Going to the barracks was a simple affair. The barracks were guarded at all times, and all he had to do was approach a guard and tell them he had a message. The guard sent him to the officer on duty, and Kyven handed him the note. "I'm supposed to take back–"
"Yes, an acknowledgement the order was received," the young lieutenant said absently, breaking the seal and reading the orders. His eyes widened slightly, and then he blew out his breath. He sat down behind the small desk and scribbled out a note, then folded and sealed it. "Here you go, youngster. Take that right back up." He turned to the side. "Sergeant!" he boomed.
Kyven was curious to know what was in that order, but he couldn't hang around to find out with the officer giving him an expectant and slightly annoyed look. That was his signal to hurry to complete his task, and besides, he had to get out of the building with his information. What he had, the Shaman and Haven needed to know. He hurried back up the stairs, over the first magical floor, across the sixth floor, and up the tower stairs, until he was again before the two guards and magical device. He offered up the note with a short bow. "The Councilor told me to bring this to you, it's the note from the barracks," he announced to the guards.
"Very good, page," the taller of the two said, advancing up and taking the note with a nod. "I'll take it straight to him."
Kyven bowed again, and then hurried back down the stairs. Now was the time to get the hell out of there.
It was as easy as it had been getting in. He went back downstairs, passing another page, a maid, and a pair of Loreguard on the stairs, and after reaching the servant's entrance, he used spirit sight to make sure he was alone and unseen, then shifted his illusion. He couldn't use the illusion of a page to get out, since he'd have no business leaving the building, but a Loreguard could leave the building at that time of night without arousing any suspicion. Kyven created an illusion of not just a Loreguard, but a Loreguard on a horse. He made sure to include every detail, including the sound of its hooves on the ground or flagstones, the creaking of the saddle, the swaying of its mane when it shook its head, even the smell of it. Once the illusion was fully fleshed out, with him invisible in the center of it, he bounded into a loping run, which was matched by the horse. He made sure to focus on the clattering of the hooves on the flagstones as he rushed from the building, the illusory horse cantering as Kyven ran on all fours. Kyven ran across the bridge, then past the four guards at the foot of it without the illusory man on the horse so much as waving or taking any note of them at all. He charged into the city, turned a corner, then slowed to a stop while being very careful to create an auditory illusion of the horse's hooves clattering off into the distance before falling silent. He dismissed the illusion and vanished into the shadows, then crept back to the place where Lightfoot was waiting for him. She was sitting on her haunches in the alley, her tail twitching slightly as she stared at the island in the river intently. He couldn't resist slinking right up to her back and leaning over her, putting his muzzle right by her ear. "I'm back," he whispered.
She didn't jump or flinch, which was slightly disappointing. "Let's go home," she answered.
They ghosted through the city silently and without a single eye drawing attention to them, until they were back at his back door. Lightfoot was totally silent during the trip home, seeming content to hear about it when they were safely back in the shop, and he obliged her. The door was locked, but a look up showed him that the attic window was left open on purpose. Kyven and Lightfoot had no trouble climbing up to the window, doing so with grace and agility, not making a whisper of sound, then they climbed in through the attic. After Kyven closed and locked the window, Lightfoot unexpectedly grabbed him in a strong embrace. "I'm glad you're alright," she told him.
"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but there were a couple of nervous moments," he said. "Let's go get Clover, I have a lot to tell you."
Clover, Tweak, and Patches were, naturally, still awake, down in the apartment. Kyven got more hugs, even one from Tweak, then he sat them down and told them about his adventure and what he had learned. Clover listened intently to his ever word, her eyes serious and calculating. They laughed when he told them about nearly getting caught by an overly amorous Loremaster, but Clover turned quite serious when he told them about what he'd overheard. "They know something's going on, but we knew that was going to happen. They're not sure what's going on yet, but they're going to try to find out."
"That is good to know," Clover said. "We can send a warning out to our agents to be very careful, for the Loremasters are starting to snoop."
"Isn't it a bad thing they know?" Tweak asked.
"What we're doing is impossible to hide, young one," Clover told him. "What we're trying to do is hide who is doing it, for as long as possible. What matters now is how our agents get the Arcans out of the villages and Alamar. Now, the agents of the Loremasters will try to follow them to see where they go. The council may decide that it's time to bring in the Shaman, to eliminate those scouts and cover our operation."
"Won't that tip them off?" Tweak asked.
"Eventually, but killing them off will buy us a couple of weeks, and remember, my young ones, we undertook this fully knowing that it would eventually reveal Haven to the Loremasters. What we are trying to do is delay them discovering the truth for as long as possible, so we can get as many of our brothers and sisters as we can out of human lands," Clover said. "Either way, it's not really our decision. All we can do is pass on this information to the council and allow them to decide what to do."
"We can send it off right now," he said.
Clover shook her head. "Let's finish here first. Now, what kind of defenses did you encounter?"
"Not as many as I thought I would," he answered. "But then again, I only really penetrated the sixth floor, and was taken to one floor in the west tower. There was a device set in the floor at the stairs on the sixth floor, and some kind of large device on that floor of the west tower that I had to disable to get past. I'm sure that there are plenty more, since every door from the sixth floor up was alchemical. I think they do different things," he said, telling them about touching the door of Councilor Abberdon's office, and the door of the woman's office that did nothing to him when he opened it. "The Councilor's door shocked me, but thank the Trinity that the man and woman didn't notice when the door shimmered. That door is proof that rifling the desks of the important people is going to be tricky. There's bound to be even more defenses that I didn't see because I was acting like a page and not ransacking the office."
"Still, you learned much more than you expected on this first attempt," Clover said.
Kyven nodded. "I learned so much I decided to get out and bring it home without finishing," he agreed. "But I'll finish that next time I go in."
"When will that be?" Patches asked.
"Probably a few days," he answered. "I want to see what Shario digs up, I want to do the rounds of inns and taverns to gather up what the workers know, and I need to learn more identities to use to infiltrate the building. I can't use the same page again or people will get suspicious. I have to find another mark and use his identity."
"All in all, though, it was a successful mission," Clover smiled. "I'm glad of that, but I'm more glad that you are home safely."
"You and me both, Clover," he agreed. "Now I'm going to go write down everything I saw and remember before it fades from my mind, so I'll be down in the vault," he said, standing up.
"I'll bring you something to eat," Patches told him.
"I'd like that, little one," he said. "And maybe something with a little kick. I could use a stiff drink right now," he said, which made the others laugh. "That was a very nervous business."
"I'll bring you a glass of wine," Patches promised.
"I could use it," he said, standing up. "Now go to sleep, you worriers. Let me get everything on paper before I forget, then I'm going to get some rest myself."