"I do," the duke replied. "The lord constable didn't get a clear look at the thing but he managed to slice a chunk out of it. Looks like armorer's steel to me, but we need to know more. I'm told there's a spell…?"
"Legend lore," the wizard said.
"That's the one," replied the duke. "Can you do it?"
"Indeed I can, Your Highness. Indeed I can."
"The duchy will, of course, reimburse you for your trouble," the duke said.
Vargussel smiled and let the piece of his own construct roll around in his palm.
"Please, Your Highness," he said. "I am a loyal subject of the duchy and her duke. It would only be my pleasure and honor to cast a spell for you, that we might bring these heinous acts of senseless murder to a close."
"Very well," said the duke. "The duchy thanks you. Now…"
"Ah, yes," Vargussel said, "with all due haste. I can cast the spell at once if that meets with your approval. There isn't much to it but some muttering and waving about of hands. A picture will form in my mind, and I will know the origin of this steel."
The duke nodded, and Vargussel held the piece of metal out in front of him.
Legend lore, indeed, the wizard thought.
He began to speak a string of nonsense that he made up as he went along but which he was sure the duke would mistake for the language of magic. The spell he actually intended to cast could be done in seconds, but when one is performing for royalty, best make a show of it. After a suitable period of time mumbling nonsense and wiggling his fingers over the steel, Vargussel uttered the real words of power and twisted his fingers just so.
A faint, blue glow sprang from his palm, lighting the steel from below.
The duke sat forward, peering at the effect with undisguised awe. It was all Vargussel could do not to laugh at him. The glow was a meaningless prestidigitation, a parlor trick for the amusement of children. It told Vargussel nothing and would tell the duke no more.
He let the glow persist until the duke was solidly at the edge of his seat, then he pretended to see something in the air between them. The duke followed his eyes, of course seeing nothing, but seemed to fully believe that Vargussel was reading something written in eldritch script in the very air itself.
When he thought he'd laid it on thick enough, Vargussel let the glow fade away, and he curled his fingers around the piece of his shield guardian.
"Alas," he said, taking care to add a tone of dire seriousness to his voice, "our opponent is powerful indeed."
"What did you see?" asked the duke.
Vargussel shook his head and narrowed his eyes.
"Vargussel," the duke prodded. "Speak, for the love of-"
"It is warded," the wizard said.
"Warded?" asked the duke.
"Protected," Vargussel said. "This comes from a most capable spellcaster, I can assure you, Your Highness. It has been made proof against spells such as the one I cast upon it. It is as if a wall of shadow has descended over its history and its maker."
The duke sighed and all but sagged back into his chair.
"But all is not lost, Your Highness," Vargussel said.
"There's another spell?"
"There is always another spell, sire," said the wizard. "I will need time, though, and resources from my laboratory."
"How long?"
"A day," Vargussel lied, "perhaps longer. The magic is powerful and carefully masked."
The duke nodded, looking down at nothing, thinking.
"May I take it with me?" the wizard prompted.
"You had best," answered the duke. "Keep it in your sight at all times, though."
"I will," Vargussel agreed.
"A day, you said?" asked the duke.
"Perhaps more," the wizard answered.
The duke frowned and said, "Do your best to tell me something sooner. The lives of a score of city watchmen and Lord Constable Regdar may depend on it."
"Indeed?" Vargussel asked, feigning surprise.
"They pursue the creature from which this steel was severed even now," the duke said, his face lined and gray.
"Do they?" Vargussel murmured. "Do they indeed…"
22
Naull didn't know how long they'd been in the sewers before she finally figured out a way to breathe through her mouth that actually cut the force of the stench. The air had a thickness to it that made it coat everything it touched with the smell of waste and decay.
The tunnel was the same size all the way in, but it still seemed to be closing in on her a little tighter with every step she took. They kept a steady pace and turned only a few times as they delved deeper into the city's eastern reaches: the sprawling and crowded Trade Quarter. To Naull it felt like they'd been wading through sewage for miles but the city wasn't that big. She thought she might be able to clear her head and start thinking straight if only she could take a deep breath. Instead, she tensed her whole body, riding waves of trembling panic while remaining stoic and silent on the outside.
"Here," Jandik said from the head of the single-file line. He pointed to the low ceiling, and Regdar stepped up to follow the tracker's finger as it drew a line from just over his head, down the tunnel into the impenetrable darkness. "This is where the scratches stop. We kept going about another hundred yards without seeing another sign. It's as if the thing just disappeared."
Regdar looked around, and so did everyone else. The walls and ceiling of the tunnel were made of old but solid brickwork. There was no sign of a door and certainly no visible magical effects.
"It could be under our feet," Watch Sergeant Lorec suggested.
Regdar seemed to consider the idea, even scuffled his toes around under the opaque, brown liquid, feeling for a door or hinge. If there was a trapdoor in the floor of the tunnel, opening it would have sent thousands of gallons of water emptying into the space below.
"I don't think so," he said. "The thing that attacked us was made of steel or encased in steel armor. If it had been submerged, the piece I cut off would have been wet, or at least stained with this horrid soup. It was clean and dry."
"There's another secret door," Naull suggested. "There has to be."
"Can you cast that spell again?" asked Regdar.
Naull smiled and said, "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"
Regdar looked at her strangely and shrugged.
She closed her eyes and did her best to ignore him, the walls and the stench still closing in on her, along with the feeling of impending doom that she couldn't for the life of her shake. Naull cast her spell. She heard Watchman Samoth slosh a few steps away from her as she intoned the incantation, but ignored that too.
When the spell was done, she opened her eyes and was greeted by a dazzling, green glow from the wall to the party's left. She stepped to the wall and traced the outline of the door with her fingertip. Regdar leaned in close.
"I see it," he whispered.
"Can she open it?" the sergeant asked.
Naull kept her focus on the spell, digging deep into her magic-enhanced awareness for the door's hidden latch.
"Can she?" the sergeant pressed.
Regdar shushed him, and Naull silently applauded his patience. It took a minute more than she thought it would, but eventually her eyes locked on a chip of mortar at the edge of the door. She clearly saw her hand extend toward it and tip the mortar chip down as if picking it out of the wall. The door swung wide, revealing Naull shook her head, wiping the spell away, with her hand still poised an inch from the trigger. With the magic gone, she couldn't see the door.
"Is that the latch?" Regdar asked.
She thought about opening it to show off her cleverness but quickly reminded herself what might be behind the door. She swallowed and found her throat dry and painful.