As instructed, Knoxx set out at dawn the next day. Acknowledging the fact that he felt somewhat rotten for using Tishan’s guilt as his excuse for leaving Corbit’s Canyon, for the most part he was simply relieved. Confined to the canyon for the entire duration of the summer at Flynn’s order, he knew this would be his only chance to see out the task his brother Devlin had charged him with two weeks before in Tyrell.
Getting past Flynn had not be easy, and Knoxx was almost certain the Thieves’ commander suspected he was up to something. But Devlin had warned that speaking of this matter to anyone else would only endanger them, and so he’d kept his tongue, even while longing to confide the entirety of the situation to both Flynn and Tishan. An unfortunate circumstance, since it had now become a hideously complicated matter.
First and foremost, he’d now had time to try and piece together all the bizarre connections he’d stumbled across the night of the Tulan ball. The most glaring of these was the fact that he’d actually spoken to Oliveah Oslund outside The Rejoicing Rooster the morning he’d arrived in Tyrell, and that she’d blatantly noted his Secondary Thieves medallion. This, in turn, meant she would in all likelihood recognize him if he happened to suddenly appear at her family’s vineyard, and, even if he kept his Secondary hidden, she would know him for what he was. Consequently, there was absolutely no chance he would be granted admittance onto the property, no matter how creative a story he attempted to weave.
To complicate matters even further, the Oslund vineyard sat upon Tyrell’s outskirts, but was still considered to be within the city limits. This meant, due to the newly-instituted decree made by the Justice officers of Tyrell, that Knoxx could now lawfully be hanged for even approaching it. Or at least, be seen approaching it. He spent the entire first day of his journey sending his thanks to Eris, the Patron of Magic, for having gifted him with the power of invisibility.
The distance between Corbit’s Canyon and Tyrell was approximately four days on horseback. Knoxx rode hard and made it in just over three, arriving on Fifth-day, the day ruled by Harmony. It was his plan to enter the city of the Arts first, hopefully find some information regarding the Jennite quickly, and then have the remainder of the week left to spy upon the Oslunds. Unfortunately, he would waste a lot of time going back and forth from Tyrell so that he could reappear, rest, and sleep where it was safe, but unless he wanted to risk being hanged this couldn’t be helped. Barely recovered from the taxing events of the Tulan ball, he knew he was in for a dreadfully exhausting week.
Ensuring his Choice medallion was flipped to conceal its now deadly truth, Knoxx paid a farmer just beyond Tyrell’s limits to care for his horse for the next several days, and then carried on by foot.
He made certain to fade into invisibility well before reaching Tyrell, a wise decision considering the condition of the official signpost hung next to the road, welcoming all to the home city of the Arts. The Justice officers’ decree, written elegantly upon a long scroll, was nailed to the signpost, warning any Thieves that to enter here meant death. In addition, a citizen had added, in thick black paint beneath the scroll, “May all Thieves Burn in the Deepest Chasms of Fire”.
Taking this in, Knoxx proceeded to stare at those words written in black somewhat dumbfounded. Given the death and destruction which had occurred here the final night of the festival, the mage could understand the populace’s fury. What he could not understand was how it had all grown so completely out of control. In this, he believed as Tishan did; undoubtedly, there were factors here they had not yet discovered, and, with luck, he’d at least pick up a couple of clues here in Tyrell to give hint as to where they could start seeking this deeper truth. He thought the Jennite theory held possibility, but planned on keeping an open mind. It was entirely possible the answer they sought had nothing whatsoever to do with the man wearing the Chaos Birth medallion.
In the interest of keeping as silent as possible, Knoxx removed his boots and stashed them behind a tree before pushing on into the city. He quickly determined that his feet were going to be in rough shape by the conclusion of the week.
Because he and Tishan had not returned to Tyrell after successfully escaping from the Tulan ranch, instead heading straight back to Corbit’s Canyon as planned, this was to be his first sight of the city since the riot had ravaged it. Wandering silently through its streets, he observed that the once beautiful, glorious city of the Arts was now a ruin.
The southern district had burned almost entirely to the ground. The city’s center streets as well as its west end appeared to have taken the brunt of the looting and vandalism, littered with broken glass he had to be very mindful not to step on. The residential area to the north was mostly untouched, but the eastern streets were an utter disaster. Evidently, someone had manipulated the underground system of wells that fed water into the city, and had flooded the streets. Much of the east side remained a swamp, covered in water as well as the debris floating upon its surface.
As for the citizens, it appeared they’d been split over how to deal with what remained of their city. Many had decided to stay, rebuild, and continue their lives here. These could now be seen salvaging through their shops and homes, or working at repairing any inflicted damage. Others, however, or so Knoxx overheard, had simply packed up their families and left, hoping to find better fortune in one of Dhanen’Mar’s other cities. And as far as those souls were concerned, Knoxx couldn’t find any reason to fault their choice. Tyrell was an eyesore.
He wandered through the streets for roughly two hours, until twilight began to taint the western sky purple. Then, he turned and headed back to the city limits, not reappearing to sight until he’d made his way a safe distance into the countryside. Lacking any semblance of an appetite, and determined to find some answers to explain this disaster the following day, he lay down to sleep.
But sixth-day, ruled by Revenge, brought to him no better luck. He spent the morning again walking the streets of Tyrell, listening to the conversations going on amongst the city-folk as they worked to restore their home. He did glean that there was much murderous hatred now harbored here for all Thieves, but heard no mention of any other theories which might explain the disaster.
With exhaustion setting in, he headed back to his make-shift campsite just outside Tyrell, ate some bread and cheese for lunch, and then napped for two hours to regain his strength.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon as well as the early evening shadowing the city’s Justice officers. He was extremely disturbed to discover that, like Tyrell’s citizens, they appeared to be entertaining no conclusions but that the Thieves were entirely responsible for what had occurred here. In fact, many were actually hoping one would prove bold enough to enter, thus giving them the excuse they needed to hang him or her.
Tomorrow, he decided as he lay down to rest that evening, he would investigate the Tulan ranch. Perhaps his luck would be more favorable there.
Seventh-day was governed by Ehle, the Patron of Destiny, and Knoxx awoke at dawn with a near-desperate hope that she would be on his side this day. Aside from alleviating Tishan’s guilt over Myron’s death, the reputation of all Dhan’Marian Thieves now depended on him finding some sort of answer. Plus, he was quickly running out of time. He had wanted to give himself several days to spy upon the Oslunds, gathering as much information regarding the slaves Taleb and Nathon as he possibly could, but for that to happen he would need to start for the vineyard very soon.
Grinding his teeth together in frustration, he prepared a hurried breakfast for himself before vanishing from sight and starting off in the direction of the Tulan ranch.
Uncertain of what he expected to find there, he was surprised to discover a fair amount of activity going on all about the estate. Passing silently through the gates, which lay open, he immediately caught sight of several Justice officers. They were standing before the doors leading into the estate house, speaking with an animated Risane Tulan. Knoxx hurried nearer, listening c
losely to their words.
“Of course I mourn for my brother,” the lady was saying furiously to the three officers paused around her, “but you can’t possibly intend to hold to the charge that places my father responsible!”
“My lady, there were countless witnesses to the act,” one of the officers responded haltingly. “I’m afraid there is no question of your lord father’s guilt.”
Knoxx had now reached their party, and he paused just behind one of the officers, watching Risane Tulan’s enraged face.
“He may have struck the blows, but he is not responsible for Myron’s death!” she insisted, her voice growing more and more shrill with every word. “You must release him!”
The officers glanced at each other, all looking as though they wished to run from this conversation as quickly as they could.
“My lady,” one of them finally began carefully, “we’ve already been through this with you countless times. And I’m afraid there is simply no proof to this alternative . . . theory you’ve put before us.”
“It is not a theory!” she screamed back, fists clenched into balls at her sides. “True, my father has always been known to have a temper, but he loved Myron—never would he have deliberately caused him harm. Not to his only son! I’m telling you, there was Magic at work here!”
The officers all sighed, glancing away, but Risane Tulan now had Knoxx’s strict attention.
She went on.
“Two mages were in attendance that night, need I remind you again?” she raged. “Villian and Synna were their names. This disaster is somehow all their doing, I am certain!”
One of the officers shook his head. “And what could they possibly have had to gain from this, if what you claim is true?” he asked.
Here, the Lady Risane fell silent. Knoxx immediately understood why.
It was the missing pegasi, of course. No doubt concluding that these creatures were the true reason Villian and Synna had come to the ranch to perform the fire-show, Risane was apparently now presuming their revenge for this act had been some sort of spell that drove the ball’s attendees near to madness. This part of her reasoning, however, she could not speak to the Justice officers, for she’d then have to explain how the Tulans had come to have the pegasi in the first place. And revealing this information would place her family in an extremely large amount of trouble.
All in all, Knoxx reasoned, it wasn’t a terrible theory. It was wrong, of course, but Risane would not know enough regarding Magic to realize why. Indeed, had Villian and Synna been looking for revenge, they would simply have killed Beran Tulan and been on their way—an act Synna had actually expressed interest in, only to be thwarted by Villian’s authority. But to create a spell that would have induced the sort of ruckus that had occurred here . . . none but a rogue would have dared it. For the mages of Venaris Sheea had their own rules and laws, as well as their own persons to uphold them. These men and women were born to Magic but had chosen Justice, and they were not a party any mage wanted to tangle with.
But Risane’s conclusion did lead him somewhere fairly interesting.
Evidently, the Thieves were not the only ones who suspected Magic had been at play here. And while Lady Risane was suspecting it for the wrong reasons, she did appear entirely convinced of the fact that her father would only have committed this crime by its influence.
A rogue mage, or one who wore Magic as their Secondary. Knoxx had no choice but to conclude that this reasoning was looking more and more likely. He turned his attention back to the conversation still unfolding before him.
“Well, if you refuse to send an inquiry to Venaris Sheea, then I will just have to do so myself,” Risane Tulan was now haughtily telling the Justice officers.
It was a bluff. Knoxx knew there was absolutely no chance any Tulan would be so bold after stealing those pegasi. But the officers appeared to be taking the bait.
“All right, Lady Tulan, there is no reason for that,” one of them said, holding up his hands. “As you know, there are several officers in Aralexia with a Secondary of Magic, those fully capable of investigating these sorts of situations. We will send to the city and request that one be deployed immediately.” He then paused briefly as Risane began nodding in victory. “But if the found conclusions do not adhere to your way of thinking, you will have to accept them. The death of your brother will not remain unpunished, even if your father is determined to be the true culprit.”
“He won’t be,” she told them with complete confidence. “It is the mages Villian and Synna who need to be punished, I assure you.”
None of the officers looked convinced, and neither did they seem anxious for this to be true. Dealing with the mages of Venaris Sheea was always a tricky business, and one they tried to avoid at all costs.
After stating firmly that she would be anxiously awaiting the presence of the officer sent from Aralexia to investigate, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the estate house, slamming the door behind her.
For the next several minutes, Knoxx amused himself by listening to the continued conversation of the Justice officers, which consisted of referring to Lady Risane in all manner of vile and unflattering ways. Needless to say, the impression she’d left them with had not been an endearing one.
Stifling his mirth, Knoxx left the foul-mouthed officers behind and started out over the grounds. He found nothing of further interest, besides the fact that the Tulan warhorses, the family’s only remaining prize now that their diamond, racehorses, and pegasi had all been stolen, were now guarded by at least a hundred men, all of them carrying swords.
Knoxx left the ranch in the late morning, figuring he’d found all he was going to in the way of clues. But it was enough—the Thieves would now at least have a starting point if Flynn decided to pursue the matter further. Given the circumstances, Knoxx thought it very possible that he would, although discerning exactly where their next steps lay bore some thinking about.
He returned to his campsite outside Tyrell’s city limits, reappeared, and took a long nap. So far, these rests between forays appeared to be keeping much of his exhaustion at bay, but whether this would continue to hold true he wasn’t certain. He still had several longs days ahead of him.
He awoke at mid-afternoon, packed up his few belongings, and started circling about the city to the north. Having only the vaguest idea of where the Oslund vineyard lay, he would be forced to ask for directions, and do so before entering Tyrell proper.
Luck was with him. Once emerged from the woods, he stepped out onto the road and spied a covered wagon trundling slowly down the laneway, heading in the direction of Tyrell. He ran after it, hailing the driver as he drew close.
The wagon eased to a stop and a gnarled face peered back from the driver’s seat cautiously. Knoxx donned a smile and raised a hand in greeting, quickly taking in the man’s medallions of Travelers and Commerce. Mostly likely, he was a simple merchant now bringing much-needed supplies to the city of the Arts to aid in their reconstruction, but because the wagon’s contents were covered over in a white tarp, Knoxx could not tell exactly what lay within.
The man was still peering at him, blatantly taking in his Birth medallion of Magic, and looking wary at finding his Secondary concealed.
“What is it you want, mage?” he asked, his voice hoarse and brisk.
“Just directions, friend,” Knoxx replied smoothly, pausing now below the driver’s seat and looking up. “I am due at the Oslund vineyard in a very short time, but fear I must have misplaced the directions given me.”
Knoxx was not worried about revealing his true destination. Because his face would never be seen at the vineyard, there would be no reason for anyone to ever inquire as to his purpose there.
The merchant was now nodding, his suspicious look gone. “I know the Oslund lands well, for Lord Ean has, from time to time, contracted my services to make local shipments. You’ll want to keep on this road, then turn east at the c
ross. Once there, only a blind man could miss it.”
Since he would be invisible rather than blind, Knoxx felt the instructions were sound.
“Many thanks,” he said, nodding and stepping back. “May fortune repay you for your kindness.”
The merchant nodded in return, tightened the loose grip he held on the reins, and slapped his team into movement. Knoxx hung back, giving the man a generous lead, before resuming his own steps.
He was soon dangerously near to the city limits. Glancing about and seeing no one, he promptly faded from sight, carrying on until he came to the crossroads the merchant had spoken of. He turned east and immediately observed how only a blind man could now lose his way.
Situated upon a nest of low, rolling hills, common in this part of the country, lay row upon row of the squat, bushy grape vines, green in the vibrancy of summer, stretching out farther than his eye could see. High, wire fencing surrounded the perimeter, this security most likely reinforced by guards from within, and leaving Knoxx to ponder on how he was going to manage slipping onto the property.
With the vineyard to his right side, he continued on until he finally came to a thin laneway branching off from the main road. Pausing, he followed it with his eyes, seeing that it was barred by a set of high wooden gates at the crest of a low hill. He removed his boots, stowed them into his rucksack, and approached the gates cautiously.
A large brass bell hung low for the convenience of those arriving and looking to announce their presence. Putting his eye to a crack in wooden slats, he peered through, looking for any sign of movement. He saw none, and heard nothing, therefore concluding no guards were presently loitering in the immediate area.
Knoxx stepped back and rang the bell.
In only moments he heard the sound of quickly approaching footsteps, and then a small window appeared in the wall as a wooden slat retracted back. A face looked out. “State your business!” it barked.
Knoxx remained still, smiling slightly.
The guard’s face bulged into the opening the small window provided, his eyes moving back and forth to take in the empty laneway. “Strange,” he finally muttered, turning away. The window closed with a snap as he moved the wooden slat back into place.
Knoxx waited until the sounds of his steps had retreated, and then rang the bell again.
Hurried footsteps, and then the same guard’s face appeared as he yanked opened the window. “Who’s there?” he bellowed, eyes searching.
Knoxx again held perfectly still, although he was now struggling quite hard to contain the laughter bubbling up in his throat.
Receiving no response to his question, the guard slammed the window closed and retreated again, the sound of his steps furious as he stomped away.
Knoxx quickly checked to make sure his feet had left no impressions in the laneway, and then rang the bell again.
He heard a bellow of frustration reply to it.
Several minutes passed before the sounds of nearing footsteps came to him again, no longer a single set, and the mage quickly worked to numb all amusement.
“Three times the bell has rung, and yet no one is there!” the guard was now insisting.
“Well, there is little wind today, so I’m thinking pranksters the likely culprit,” another voice responded as the gates began rolling open.
“I would most certainly favor pranksters over ghosts,” the guard responded, with much trepidation.
Two men now stood in the slight opening the gates provided. Both were carrying swords, and the taller of the two was stepping forward to scan the ground. He wore a turquoise slave-band about his upper left arm.
“Ghosts?” he scoffed, his eyes moving over the ground at Knoxx’s feet. “Do you truly believe in such nonsense?”
“It’s not nonsense, Nathon,” the guard insisted, following. “Even diviners believe in the presence of those who’ve passed on from the living realm.”
Knoxx shot a brief but appraising look to the taller man, the one who’d just been identified as one of his targets.
“Well,” Nathon said now, apparently finding nothing suspicious about the ground near to Knoxx’s feet and turning to inspect a wider area, “even if they do exist, I’d like to think they have more important business to attend to than hovering about here, ringing our bell. That said, I’m still leaning toward pranksters.”
Knoxx waited, breath held, for the two men to take a few more steps outward, now inspecting the edges of the laneway. Completely silent, the mage then glided forward and smoothly slipped through the opening in the gates.
Abruptly he found himself upon the sprawling Oslund grounds. Directly before him, although hundreds of paces distant, was the family home, a three-story structure of brick that appeared as a small, elegant castle. It held a lone tower, where, one assumed, a view of the entire estate could be seen.
To both the east and west lay fields upon fields of grape vines. Workers appeared everywhere about the crops, some watering, some inspecting, and some doing the Patrons only knew what. Knoxx knew little regarding crop-growing, and cared even less.
He moved forward, toward the castle. He’d already come to the conclusion that coming and going from the grounds every time he needed to reappear and rest was not going to be an option, and so what he sought now was a safe place where he could lie low.
A dwelling this size must have at least a few unused rooms, he mused to himself, eyeing the castle as he drew near. If he could manage to sneak in and find one, his accommodations for the next several days should be taken care of. Admittedly, a part of his mind was now warning him of the brashness as well as the danger of this idea, but his confidence ultimately won out; for unless he drained himself to the very brink of exhaustion, no matter what the circumstance his invisibility would save him from discovery. Plus, by actually lurking about the Oslund’s home, he was likely to stumble across a lot more information than he would by bunking down somewhere outside. Such would hardly be safe, besides—not with all those workers crawling all over the grounds.
Knoxx then spotted a young slave girl of about ten closing in upon the house with a bucket full of berries clutched in her hand. Smiling to himself, he followed her inside.
Chapter 17