But Mizraith was rarely seen on the streets, and certainly never near the noise and smell of the Maze. He normally kept to his opulent apartments in the easternmost part of town, flanked by the inns of Wideway, overlooking the sea.
One-Thumb warned the pirate cook that he might have to take a double shift, and took a bottle of finest brandy to give to Mizraith, and a skin of the ordinary kind to keep up their courage as they went to face the man who guarded his life. The emptied skin joined the harbour's flotsam before they'd gone half of Wideway, and they continued in grim silence.
Mizraith's eldest son let them in, not seeming surprised at their visit. 'The bodyguards stay here,' he said, and made a pass with one hand. 'You'll want to leave all your iron here, as well.'
One-Thumb felt the dagger next to his ankle grow warm; he tossed it away and also dropped his rapier and the dagger sheathed to his forearm. There was a similar scattering of weapons from the other three. Amoli turned to the wall and reached inside her skirts, inside herself, to retrieve the ultimate birth control device, a sort of diaphragm with a spring-loaded razor attached (no one would have her without paying in some coin). The hardware glowed dull red briefly, then cooled.
'Is Marype at home?' One-Thumb asked.
'He was, briefly,' the older brother said. 'You came to see Father, though.' He turned to lead them up a winding flight of stairs.
Velvet and silk embroidered in arcane patterns. A golden samovar bubbling softly in the corner; flower-scented tea. A naked girl, barely ofchildbearing age, sitting cross-legged by the samovar, staring. A bodyguard much larger than the ones downstairs, but slightly transparent. In the middle of this sat Mizraith, on a pile of pillows, or maybe of gold, bright eyes in dark hollows, smiling open-mouthed at something unseeable.
The brother left them there. Magician, guardian, and girl all ignored them. 'Mizraith?' One-Thumb said.
The sorcerer slowly brought his eyes to bear on him and Amoli.
'I've been waiting for you, Lastel, or what is your name in the Maze, One-Thumb ... I could grow that back for you, you know.'
'I get along well enough -'
'And you brought me presents! A bottle and a bauble - more my age than this sweetmeat.' He made a grotesque face at the naked girl and winked.
'No, Mizraith, this woman and I, we both believe we've been wronged by you. Cheated and stolen from,' he said boldly, but his voice shook. 'The bottle is a gift.'
The bodyguard moved towards them, its steps making no noise. 'Hold, spirit.' It stopped, glaring. 'Bring that bottle here.'
As One-Thumb and Amoli walked towards Mizraith, a low table materialized in front of him, then three glasses. 'You may serve, Lastel.' Nothing had moved but his head.
One-Thumb poured each glass full; one of them rose a handspan above the table and drained itself, then disappeared. 'Very good. Thank you. Cheated, now? My, oh my. Stolen? Hee. What could you have that I need?'
'It's only we who need it, Mizraith, and I don't know why you would want to cheat us out of it - especially me. You can't have many commissions more lucrative than mine.'
'You might be surprised, Lastel. You might be surprised. TeaY The girl decanted a cup of tea and brought it over, as if in a trance. Mizraith took it and the girl sat at his side, playing with her hair. 'Stolen, eh? What? You haven't told me. What?'
'Krrf,' he said.
Mizraith gestured negligently with his free hand and a small snowstorm of grey powder drifted to the rug, and disappeared.
'No.' One-Thumb rubbed his eyes. When he looked at the pillows, they were pillows; when he looked away, they turned to blocks of gold. 'Not conjured krrf.' It had the same gross effect but no depth, no nuance.
'Twenty grimales of black krrf from Caronne,' Amoli said.
'Stolen from both of us,' One-Thumb said. 'It was sent to me by a man in Ranke, payment for services rendered. Your son Marype picked it up at the caravan depot, hidden inside a cheese. He extracted it somehow and sold it to this woman, Amoli -'
'Amoli? You're the mistress of a ... of the Slippery Lily?'
'No, the Lily Garden. The other place is in the Maze, a good place for pox and slatterns.'
One-Thumb continued. 'After he sold it to her, it disappeared. He brought it to me last night. This evening, it disappeared from my own strongbox.'
'Marype couldn't do that,' Mizraith said.
The conjuring part, I know he couldn't - which is why I say that you must have been behind it. Why? A joke?'
Mizraith sipped. 'Would you like tea?'
'No. Why?'
He handed the half-empty cup to the girl. 'More tea.' He watched her go to the samovar. 'I bought her for the walk. Isn't that fine? From behind, she could be a boy.'
'Please, Mizraith. This is financial ruin for Amoli and a gross insult to me.'
'A joke, eh? You think I make stupid jokes?'
'I know that you do things for reasons I cannot comprehend,' he said tactfully. 'But this is serious -'
'I know that!' He took the tea and fished a flower petal from it; rubbed it away. 'More serious than you think, if my son is involved. Did it all disappear? Is there any tiny bit of it left?'
'The pinch you gave to my eunuch,' Amoli said. 'He may still have it.'
'Fetch it,' Mizraith said. He stared slack-jawed into his tea for a minute. 'I didn't do it, Lastel. Some other did.'
'With Marype's help.'
'Perhaps unwilling. We shall see ... Marype is adept enough to have sensed the worth of the cheese, and I think he is worldly enough to recognize a block of rare krrf, and know where to sell it. By himself, he would not be able to charm it away.'
'You fear he's betrayed you?'
Mizraith caressed the girl's long hair. 'We have had some argument lately. About his progress... he thinks I am teaching him too slowly, withholding ... mysteries. The truth is, spells are complicated. Being able to generate one is not the same as being able to control it; that takes practice, and maturity. He sees what his brothers can do and is jealous, I think.'
'You can't know his mind directly?'
'No. That's a powerful spell against strangers, but the closer you are to a person, the harder it is. Against your own blood ... no. His mind is closed to me.'
Amoli returned with the square of parchment. She held it out apologetically. 'He shared it with the other bodyguard and your son. Is this enough?' There was a dark patch in the centre of the square.
He took it between thumb and forefinger and grimaced. 'Mark-mor!' The second most powerful magician in Sanctuary - an upstart not even a century old.
'He's in league with your strongest competitor?' One-Thumb said.
'In league or in thrall.' Mizraith stood up and crossed his arms. The bodyguard disappeared; the cushions became a stack of gold bricks. He mumbled some gibberish and opened his arms wide.
Marype appeared in front of him. He was a handsome lad: flowing silver hair, striking features. He was also furious, naked, and rampant.
'Father\I am busy\' He made a flinging gesture and disappeared.
Mizraith made the same gesture and the boy came back. 'We can do this all night. Or you can talk to me.'
Noticeably less rampant. 'This is unforgiveable.' He raised his arm to make the pass again; then checked it as Mizraith did the same. 'Clothe me.' A brick disappeared, and Marype was wearing a tunic of woven gold.
'Tell me you are not in the thrall of Markmor.'
The boy's fists were clenched. 'I am not.'
'Are you quite certain?'
'We are friends, partners. He is teaching me things.'
'You know I will teach you everything, eventually. But -'