“You’ll have to stay close to me,” Rattar said. They stood at the corner of a bakery, watching the guards across the street with their faces hidden in cowls and Aralim’s lantern staff left at home. Brallo Ma’kreo, the merchant who had almost met his end at the hands of Yakalaka and the ‘stolen’ knife, was holed up in the old miner’s shaft beneath the abandoned warehouse across the street. The guards there wore leather lamellar—leather layered like chainmail—and held short spears.
Aralim regarded Rattar skeptically at first, but then reminded himself of all the magic he had seen Miresh do. Certainly her master could handle a few guards easily enough. “I won’t leave you side.”
Rattar nodded, though Aralim could only see the corners of his mouth raise. Then he started walking down the street, like a normal pedestrian. This region of Rema was soaked with jungle trees; only a handful of passersby littered the street with splotches of beige wool and cheap red-dyed linen.
As they crossed the cobblestones in front of the guards, Rattar held out one hand, blocked from their line of sight, and Aralim tensed. Without anymore warning than that, he briskly strode between the first two guards and into the entry corridor of the rickety old storehouse. No sooner were they through than the two guards they had just walked in front of gasped. One cursed, while the other only said, “What!”
Then, an awkward silence. Rattar scanned their surroundings—tapestries hung on the walls, and a broken old door leaned on its bottom hinge. He opened it slowly, without squeaking the hinge, to reveal a closet. “In,” he said, and Aralim hid as instructed.
“Yoll, get out here,” called one of those guards.
“What, dammit?” a voice shouted, very close to their closet. Heavy boots scuffed the wooden floor outside as another guard marched past. “Well, what is it? The street is empty.”
The first voice replied, “Sir, we saw two pedestrians. Then they disappeared!”
Rattar was already opening the closet door again. Aralim kept at his side in silence as they passed the open doors of the warehouse proper. A table had been set up, where three more guards played a game of cards. Their spears leaned against a small wooden crate not far from them, while one hand of cards had been laid facedown—likely Yoll, their leader.
When they reached an open, unguarded door at the end of the corridor, Aralim asked, “How’d we get past those first two?”
Rattar smiled. “I blocked their vision with darkness for the time it took us to walk past. Like a long blink. It’s effective, but alarming. One moment we were right in front of them, the next we weren’t.”
The door led to a stairway. They descended quickly to a closed door with a curtained window in it. An office of some kind was lit by a lantern which also shone through the brown and red material. “This is it,” Rattar said. “There’s a guard inside—I can hear him talking to Brallo. When the guard comes to the door, be ready. I’ll handle them both, you block the door. Grab a chair or something else.”
“I’m ready,” Aralim said. He wasn’t sure why Rattar had decided to conduct this investigation in secret, but he had asked Aralim if the Walker would like to join him. Rattar had assured him that no harm would befall him.
A moment later, Rattar opened the door. A guard stood there, with his hand out for the door’s latch. Before he could react, Rattar’s index finger touched his forehead and the man went limp. Rattar deposited him gently to the floor boards, while Aralim stepped through the frame in surprise. The merchant himself was at a shelf nearby, his back to them. Rattar stepped over the unconscious body, but must have made some sound for Brallo stirred and said, “Well, close the door after yourself.” He started to turn.
Rattar drew a knife, and the man spun. “Call out, and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” the Grand Mage said.
Aralim looked around the room; at the empty desk, he found a chair. He forced it beneath the door latch, and turned back to face the others.
“What does the Emperor’s mage want with me?” Brallo asked, quietly.
Rattar smiled. “Answers to a few questions, that’s all.”
Brallo spat on the floor nearby. He had a small, pointy beard and the copper skin of a Raderan from the continent east of them. “I’m tired of facing knives, sir. Been stabbed once this year.”
“You look well,” Aralim said.
Rattar shoved Brallo down into the second chair near the desk and did not remove the knife he held near the merchant’s face. “We know of the first attack on your life, Master Ma’kreo, but you’ll be answering our questions one way or another before we leave.”
“Can you answer one of mine?” the man asked, eyes fixed on Rattar’s and face flushed. “How’d I survive that? That crazy missus stabbed me in the heart.”
Aralim opened his mouth to say it was because of him the man still lived, but Rattar spoke first. “Trust me when I say, circumstances have changed. First question: why did she want to kill you?”
“How should I know?” Brallo asked. “I’d never seen her before in my life! Do you know who she is?”
“What?” Rattar asked.
“The woman: what was her name? I’m stuck here until I figure that out, but she attacked me as a nondescript woman. Perhaps from the Elder Coast, by her skin tone, but there’s a small army of such people in this stinking city.” The merchant’s rant filled his moustache with flecks of spit, and the blood began to drain from his face.
“You honestly don’t know why the woman tried to kill you?” Rattar asked, careful to leave Yakalaka unnamed.
“Why are you questioning me about it? Ask the Emperor if it has anything to do with the Tralanar Street warehouse!”
“The what?” Rattar asked. The merchant threw up his hands, but Rattar jabbed his knife closer. “Answer me.”
All their voices fell silent when someone knocked on the door with a heavy fist. “You alright in their, Brallo?”
Rattar walked around to face Brallo. “Tell them it’s all clear.”
“I won’t.”
“Do it!” Rattar barked, his face only two feet from the merchant’s.
Brallo trembled. “I won’t!” This time his voice was heard by the man outside, and a shout went up to the other guards. Brallo smiled, though Aralim crossed to the chair in the doorway. He put his foot at its base and grabbed a spear from the rack adjacent to it.
“What is this warehouse then?” Rattar demanded. “Tell us and we’ll withdraw.”
“Ask the Emperor, you old fool. For the favour my grandfather owed him, he sent a letter demanding the use of my warehouse on Tralanar Street. For the training of the Emperor’s Blade.” Brallo set his jaw with attitude, to say ‘so there!’
“Where’s this letter? Proof, man!”
Master Ma’kreo raised his nose. “Not here, of course. In my house, across town. Should have just stayed there. I’m not safer here than there.”
“Peace, sir,” Aralim said, breaking his silence at last. “It was we who replaced the knife with a blade that would heal you after its damage was done.”
“It was in the blade? And you two?” Brallo asked.
“Yes sir, we saved your life,” Rattar admitted, quietly. The knife only moved an inch further from the pitiable merchant.
“But not my nerves,” Brallo said. “You have any clue what it feels to be stabbed in the heart?”
“We saved your life, sir,” Aralim said. “And we seek to understand the attack upon it. Tell us more, anything to help you!”
“I’ve told you all I know,” Brallo said. With a miserable groan, he drawled, “’tis not much.”
“Time to go,” Rattar said, and lifted Brallo up. He spun the poor man around, blade at his throat.
“You think I’ll call off my guards?” the merchant exclaimed. “You just admitted to trying to save my life!”
Rattar sighed, and gave Aralim a frustrated look. “Very well,” he sighed. He lifted his hand, his fingers reaching through Brallo’s balding black hair—the man fought against the strange action, and then collapsed, as silent and asleep as the guard Rattar had touched. The Grand Mage set the man down in his desk chair, gently.
Aralim wondered at the strange words spoken by General Ro to Grandfather Athanu. Supposedly, Rattar wielded a ‘flawed Crux,’ but none of his power seemed flawed or held back now. Aralim hoped that remained the case, for the pounding on the door had quickly become a battering, shaking the hinges and beams too.
“Let’s go,” Rattar said, grabbing hold of the chair in the doorway. “Stay behind me.”
Aralim gripped the spear with white knuckles. The chair that blocked the door was yanked aside and the door blasted inward, slamming against the wall as it swung its full trajectory. Three guards stood on the stairs, with a broken table in their hands, to use as a ram. Rattar raised his hand and lowered his head.
A high pitched wail tore through the air, and the guards flailed. Their makeshift battering ram landed on the stairs, making no noise, while they clutched their ears, contorted, and fell against the walls. Rattar walked between them quickly, and Aralim followed on his heels.
Another guard rushed them in front of the broken closet, shouting as he jabbed a spear at Ratter. The Grand Mage pulled his hand downward, and the rotten wood of the ceiling cracked and gave way, depositing rock and dirt, and an overturned chair onto the man’s shoulders. Aralim had to shuffle through the debris to continue after the sorcerer.
“Be gone,” Rattar cried, as they left the warehouse’s outer door. The two guards on duty dropped their spears, and fell to their knees. Rattar gave them not another glance; he led the way down the street briskly, with his head held high. It was not until they rounded an alleyway and crossed a dusty shack that he paused, put his hands to his temples, and let out a long sigh.
“Are you well?” Aralim asked. It had been quite a display of magic.
Rattar nodded. “I will be. The focus required is… draining.”
They continued on their way after a moment of recovery.
Back home, at the Corid estate, Aralim found himself facing Narr and Ko’nagar inside the door. Miresh slid down a few steps to look into the foyer from the rounded case across the room. She smiled when she saw Aralim and said, “Evening Aralim! How’d it go?”
“Good,” Aralim said. “We learned a bit, I suppose.” He had told her what he was up to on his way out of the door earlier that day. They walked to the kitchen together for a mid-afternoon snack.