The shadow scrambled to his feet and returned Jack's spell, blasting Jack off his feet with two hammer blows of magic that caught the rogue at hip and torso. For a moment Jack saw nothing but stars, twisting in agony on the burning floor. Blood ran between his fingers and his entire left leg felt numb. Across the room, the shadow also tried to recover and stand. He levered himself up by the table.
Near Jack, Zandria rose to all fours, hunched in pain. She should have been burned to a crisp, but the blue flames died out swiftly, leaving her scorched but not seriously injured-a spell of protection, Jack guessed. The sorceress straightened up, kneeling, and directed a brilliant bolt of lightning at the other Jack.
"No one steals my wand!" she howled. The thunderclap left Jack's ears ringing and blew a hole the size of a large man through the dining room wall and into the room beyond.
Unfortunately, it missed the shadow Jack, although the stroke of lightning contributed mightily to the impending demise of the Cracked Tankard. The shadow dodged with a quick roll that brought him close to the wizardess, at which point he kicked her in the jaw as hard as he could. Zandria spun in a half circle and dropped to the floor. The contents of her pouch scattered across the uneven planking, odds and ends of spellcasting, coins and gems, and-most significantly-the stone ring, which rolled almost to Jack's hand.
Jack snatched the ring and shoved it onto his finger, invoking its powers. The impervious toughness of stone hardened his skin; the cold, remorseless strength of rock flooded his limbs. He stood and recovered his rapier, advancing on his nemesis.
"Come on, you miserable copycat! Do you dare to face me with steel in your hand?"
The shadow Jack grinned and drew its own sword. "It's what I was made for," he hissed.
He lunged at Jack through the smoke and the flame, the dark steel of his rapier moving faster than a striking serpent. Jack parried the blow with unexpected strength and blocked a surprise attack of the shadow's poignard simply by batting it aside with his hardened hand. Then he returned a murderous thrust right at the center of the shadow's torso.
The shadow Jack attempted to parry, but Jack's rapier punched through the simulacrum's defenses, driven by the strength flooding into him from the ring. In utter astonishment the shadow looked down at Jack's blade, buried in its black heart. "Not… fair," the simulacrum gasped. Then the creature discorporated in one swift instant, melting into cold shadows that seemed to sink through crevices and divisions in the wooden floor as if returning to whatever cold hell had birthed it.
"Take that, you fiend," Jack snarled.
He stepped back, watching dark shadowstuff run from the blade of his rapier, then glanced around the room to gauge the damage. Zandria sprawled unconscious on the floor. Brunn had been fairly well incinerated by the full blast of the fire wand. There was no helping him. Of Embro Albrath, there was no sign at all; the stout merchant had fled the scene early and precipitously. And, of course, the room was now a blazing inferno, with roaring flames shooting up the walls and a blast-furnace heat beating on Jack from all sides. If they saved the tavern, it would be a miracle.
"Time to go," Jack decided.
He still wore the ring; that was a good place for it. The dagger was nearby, so he returned the dark dwarven blade to his boot. Then he picked up the unconscious Zandria and draped her over one shoulder (easier than he would have thought, with the magical strength of the ring to fortify his small stature). Flames blocked his exit from the room, so he simply used the shadow-transport spell to step from the fire-engulfed tavern to the cool, dark street outside.
After the roaring heat and searing flames, the streets were oddly dark and silent. Jack set down the Red Wizard, who groaned and stirred. The Cracked Tankard's roof was a mass of yellow flame, lighting up the entire block. From all directions citizens hurried toward the scene, hoping to extinguish or contain the blaze before half the city burned down. And with them came tramping squads of city watchmen, doubtless filled with questions and anxious for resolutions. Jack quickly examined himself-singed, battered, injured but not permanently. Zandria seemed to be in about the same condition, or perhaps a little bit worse for the wear.
"You'll forgive me, my dear Zandria, but I believe I will leave now," Jack said. "Since my share of the gold is now engulfed in an inferno, I'll just keep the ring instead. Farewell!''
If the Red Wizard protested, Jack did not notice. He had already darted away down the nearest dark alleyway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack made his way back to the hovel on the Ladyrock, slept, and then spent most of the following morning analyzing the events of the last few days and trying to make sense of them. He owed the summoner of the shadow Jack some measure of retribution, but he didn't even know against whom he should direct his vengeance. In any event, both Iphegor and Jelan had good reason to attempt his assassination or embarrassment, so striking at the responsible party (given the unlikely eventuality that he could determine whether the wizard or the warlord was at the root of the insult) would seem to be nothing more than perpetuating a costly and inconvenient vendetta. "And that," he told himself, "is not good business, nor is pouting like an angry child. I have great works ahead, and mighty labors to attain noble ends."
Toward sundown the weather grew clear and cold, a sharp wind picking up off the sea, and he returned to his cottage to prepare for the next Game session, the Blue Lord's theatre. He picked up Illyth at the accustomed time, noting with satisfaction the number of armed guards and scowling wizard soldiers who thronged the Fleetwood estate.
"A fierce defense," he observed professionally.
"What was that, Jack?" said Illyth as she climbed into the coach.
"Your father seems to have taken matters most seriously," Jack replied. He waited for the noblewoman to seat herself, and then climbed up beside her and rapped on the door panel to signal the driver. "I forgot to tell you, but you should know that I have dealt with my impostor. He will trouble you no more."
Illyth looked at him and sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. Do you have any idea of who sent him after me, or why?"
"No, I do not," Jack admitted. He nodded back at the estate. "You should probably retain your armsmen for a little longer, just in case. I have no evidence that would give me to believe that there was only one shadow simulacrum instead of two, or three, or a score."
"Oghma's word! Let's hope not-one was trouble enough!" Illyth shivered; the night was growing very clear and cold, as if winter had saved one last evening for the city despite the advance of spring. They rode on for a time quietly, watching the countryside roll by. "Listen, Jack," Illyth said, breaking the silence. "If you would prefer to abandon the Game, I will not hold it against you. It's clear to me that you have other things on your mind, and you are endangering yourself by participating."
Jack shifted in his seat to meet Illyth's gaze. "I refuse to be intimidated by Tiger and Mantis. Do not lose heart yet! We are close to puzzling out their plot, I can feel it."
"There must be something more that we can do."
"Play the Game," Jack said with a shrug. "We are close to a solution. Finishing the Game quickly may bring other plots to a head, too. Tell me, do you have Lady Carp's solution recorded?"
"I do, and I spent an hour yesterday examining it. We can confirm eight of the fourteen variables in the solution, and we suspect answers to four more variables." Illyth took out her notebook and worked a small cantrip to illuminate the interior of the coach with soft blue light. "See here? We saw a clue that stated that the Blue Lord does not dwell in Dues, but Carp's solution failed there. That is one of the four items she missed."