Hamilton Swoop, Wizard of Green Ridge (24 page)

"It's text in one of the old languages from before the Dark Times. Pieces as such resurface from time to time, usually from archeological digs."

"What's it say?” Thalia asked.

Smythe looked up at her and smiled. “Where are my manners? Please, my dear. Sit down. Both of you. Sit. Would you care for some tea? I have some excellent Cantleberry."

"Yes, please.” Thalia smiled with her usual charm.

"And you, sir, Master Citrine, a cup?"

Hamilton, realizing that this man would not be rushed, replied, “Yes, thank you."

Smythe busied himself putting on a pot of tea. When it was made and distributed, he sat back down at his desk and looked again at Hamilton's “runes.” “I'm afraid that this is a bit difficult to read. Whoever wrote this has a problem with penmanship. What I can tell you is that this is part of a geological survey summary."

"A mining survey?” asked Hamilton.

"Perhaps. As I said, this is only part of a larger document. It doesn't say what the subject of the survey was."

Hamilton exhaled in frustration. Another unanswered question. “Does it say anything else?” he asked, resigned to another blind alley.

"It does give some coordinates. Hmmm. Latitude, longitude. I'm afraid that I don't have a map here, but I'm sure you can find one somewhere.” He translated the coordinates, wrote them on a scrap of paper, and handed it to Hamilton.

"Thank you.” Hamilton looked at the numbers that meant nothing to him. “Does it say anything else?"

"Well, at the end it mentions something, but it may be a fault in the copying."

"What's that?” asked Thalia.

"It looks like “sweet crud,” but that doesn't make any sense to me.” Smythe hunched his shoulders. “I'm afraid that's about all I can get from this."

Hamilton rose as did Thalia. “Thank you for your time, sir.” Hamilton retrieved his ‘runes’ from the professor.

The professor stood as well. “You're quite welcome, Master Citrine. Always happy to assist the Guild. A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well,” he added, nodding to Thalia. Then he sighed. “Pretty faces are such a rarity in the ancient languages department."

It was mid-afternoon when they arrived at the Drayene Guild of Wizards and Magic Users. Unlike the Guild building in Central City, this was well kept and impressive. The single story edifice covered an entire city block and a large guilded golden dome glowed in the sunshine. “Now this is impressive,” said Hamilton. Then he turned to Thalia and asked, “When you were researching Topaz and Diamond, who did you speak with?"

"The Master Archivist, Master Opal. He was most helpful."

"Let's hope that he is in then.” They ascended the thirteen steps to the main entrance. Before them were two large golden doors. There were no handles on them. Hamilton knocked.

A few moments later, one of them opened and a short, bald man holding a large leather bound book in his hand asked, “May I help you?” He did not look like he meant it. A scowl flickered across his face.

"I am Master Citrine from the Central City Guild. This is Thalia Sprite, a Junior Wizard. We're here to see your Master Archivist."

"Master Citrine, huh? I suppose you can prove that? We're very selective about who we admit."

"This wasn't the man who let me in,” Thalia whispered to Hamilton's ear.

"Well, I don't have a membership card if that's what you mean. However, it you would like me to demonstrate my abilities by, say, um, turning you into a toad? I would be happy to oblige.” What kind of toad do you fancy yourself as?"

"Er, what did you say your name was again?"

"Citrine. Master Citrine. Look it up."

The bald man opened his book and started flipping through the pages. He paused at a page that included an unbound insert. As he read the insert, he started to sweat.

"So what'll it be? Brown belly or perhaps a horned stinger?"

The little man squirmed. “Neither, sir. I'm sure that a demonstration of your abilities won't be necessary. How may I help you?” This time he sounded
very
sincere.

"As I said. I'm here to see your Master Archivist.” When he did not get an immediate response, Hamilton added. “Now would be a good time."

"Right away. Please, follow me."

Hamilton looked around as he and Thalia trailed the bald man. This Guild looked just as impressive from the inside as from without. “Looks like they take their magic very seriously around here,” he whispered to Thalia.

"It makes Central City's Guild look like a children's clubhouse,” she whispered. “Why were you mean to him?"

"Who?"

"Him. The little bald wizard.” She pointed at the man who was now several paces ahead of them.

"He's not a wizard. He's a bureaucrat, a rules copper. That toad thing was an idle threat. It's impossible to turn someone into a toad. Any wizard would know that. He's just a little lizard that wants people to think he's a dinosaur."

They continued following the man down several corridors and down a final staircase. After another few minutes, they arrived at an office door. The bald man knocked and then opened it. “Master Opal, you have visitors,” he said to the person within.

"Well, don't leave them standing in the hall, Prickly. Bring them in!” the large booming voice of the Archivist replied.

Hamilton and Thalia entered as Prickly withdrew. Master Opal was a big man with big smile. When he saw Thalia, the smile expanded from ear to ear. “Miss Sprite. Thalia Sprite. So good to see you again! Sit. Sit. And who's this you brought with you?"

"Master Citrine.” Hamilton offered his hand. “But you can call me Hamilton."

The big man grasped Hamilton's hand and pumped it. “Hamilton, huh? Call me Ben. But, hmmm, Master Citrine? I've got a message for you from Central City's Guild. Wait a minute. I've got it here somewhere.” He shuffled through papers, folders, the remains of a several meals and other things covering his desk until he located an envelope. “Ah, here's the little bugger.” He offered the brown envelope bearing a Guild seal on it to Hamilton. “Just came this morning, but you weren't expected for a few days. So, did you drop by to pick it up?"

"It's too long a story to tell,” Hamilton said as he accepted the envelope. “I didn't expect this. The reason we came was because Miss Sprite here was kidnapped recently. There was magic involved."

"That's terrible. Are you all right?” he asked Thalia.

She smiled. “Quite all right. Hamilton rescued me."

"Well, that's a relief. Still, Hamilton, you say that magic was used to kidnap Miss Sprite?"

"I think they were using Thalia as bait to catch me. The kidnappers mentioned a name when they thought I couldn't hear them. The name I heard was Tummin. Ring any bells?"

"Tummin? Tummin. I don't recognize the name, but I can look it up if you wish. He's a magic user, perhaps a wizard?"

"I doubt that he's a wizard, but it's obvious that he has the talent. Right now all I have is the name."

"Tummin. Hmm?” The Master Archivist hauled down a large book from a shelf behind him and flipped through dog-eared pages. “Tumalt, Tumble, Tume, Tuney. Nope, not in this book anyway. I can have my assistants do a search of the archives, but it will take a while. Will you be in town long?"

"No. We'll be heading for Central City when we leave here. Perhaps you could send me the results."

"Of course. Shall I send it to you via the Guild?"

"Ah, no. Just send it to me in care of the King's Arms Inn in Central City.” Hamilton rose and assisted Thalia to her feet. The Master Archivist rose as well.

"It's been a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Sprite."

"You, too, Ben."

As Hamilton and Thalia headed for the door, the archivist asked, “Hamilton. Were you Obsidian's student?"

"Yes, but that was quite a while ago."

"Good to see that you've returned to the Guild. I thought what that bunch at Central Guild did to you back then was shameful."

"Water under the bridge, Ben, but thanks for the kind words. I'll be looking forward to hearing from you.” Hamilton and Thalia left the office. Outside Prickly waited for them.

"Is there anything else I can do to assist you, Master Citrine?” he asked.

"You could steer us back to the main entrance."

Outside the Guild building, Hamilton stopped Thalia as they were descending the steps. He sat down on one of them and Thalia sat beside him. “What is it?"

"I want to take a look at my mail.” He broke the Guild seal and withdrew a single sheet of parchment paper with the text in a brownish ink. He looked it over and then read what was written on it aloud:

"Master Citrine,

I have received information that there is a plot against your life that goes beyond the assassination attempt that occurred earlier. Be wary of your assistant as what I have seen implicates her in this plot.

Signed,

Argus, Runemaster"

"But I...” began Thalia.

"I know, this isn't true."

"But why would the Runemaster say such a thing?"

Hamilton folded the paper and returned it to the envelope. “He didn't. I've seen his barely legible scrawl before. He didn't write this."

"But then who did ... and why?"

"Who? That I can't answer. Why? Maybe to sow a bit of dissention within the ranks. Maybe to cover their own tracks if they thought I would be dead by now, but I can tell you this. We're going to find out!"

Thalia hung on to Hamilton's waist with a death grip as Bethesda, with Hamilton's assistance, rocketed back to Central City. During the trip, Hamilton tried to map out a strategy. All he could come up with was a list. First, meet with the baker and test his weapon. Next, meet with the Guild. Then set up the dragon trap and kill Thermite. Finally, deal with Topaz or Tummin or whatever his name is. “So very simple,” he thought to himself, but then the more critical side of his mind chimed in, “Too simple. Way too simple."

It was late in the evening when they arrived back at the King's Arms Inn. Thalia was stiff from the ride and Hamilton was exhausted. Using so much magic always came with a price tag. Hamilton felt drained.

After placing a breakfast order with Roscoe, Hamilton and Thalia went to their suite. A magic pass showed that the wards had not been tampered with. “Hey, cat. We're back,” called Hamilton as they entered. No response.

Hamilton went into the bedroom and turned on the lights. “Cat?” he called. “Cat!” Still nothing. He looked under the bed. Nothing.

Thalia, who had followed him, went into the bathroom and turned on the light. “Hamilton, in here."

He followed her into the bathroom. Whiskers was lying on the floor and panting weakly. Her pupils were huge and did not react to the light.
Whiskers!
he called out in his mind. The cat did not respond.

Hamilton stooped down and gently picked up the cat. Her body was limp. He carried her to the bed and placed her on a pillow. Thalia followed. “Poor kitty. What's the matter with her?"

The wizard ran his hand over the cat from nose to tail. He frowned. “I think she's been poisoned. Bring me her bowl."

Thalia retrieved Whiskers’ bowl which still contained a mostly uneaten fish. Hamilton sniffed the fish and, shaking his head, frowned again. “Smells fine."

"Can you help her?” asked the girl.

"I don't know.” He disposed of the fish in the trash. “If the fish was the source of the poison ... maybe. She doesn't look like she's eaten much of it.” Hamilton went through an index of spells in his mind. The list of curatives was not a long one. Wizards usually protected themselves with various wards. Fixing a problem, after the fact, was not as easy. None seemed too promising, but he chose one.

Sitting down beside Whiskers, he intoned a trigger for the spell and then clapped his hands together three times. He then rubbed his palms together vigorously generating heat. “It's a question of energy.” He placed one palm on the cat's head and the other on her hind quarters below the tail. Hamilton closed his eyes in concentration and willed the poisons from the cat.

Thalia watched with concern in her eyes. Whiskers’ panting slowed to a more normal breathing pattern. Her pupils narrowed in reaction to the overhead light. Then her eyes closed, but her breathing remained normal.

"You've done it!” Thalia clapped her hands together like a schoolgirl. “Poor little kitty! You're going to be all right now.” She soothed Whiskers then patted Hamilton on the shoulder in congratulations. He slumped over onto the bed and then rolled over and toppled to the floor, barely conscious.

Thalia glanced about the room for someone or something to help her. She dropped to her knees beside Hamilton and then cradled his head in her lap. “Hamilton.” No response. “Hamilton!"

She ran her hand over his face. His forehead was warm to her touch. Fear grabbed hold and her hands shook. She lowered his head to the floor and then rushed to the bathroom and soaked a towel in cold water. She returned, cradled Hamilton's head in her lap and swabbed his forehead with the towel. While she contemplated calling a physician, she heard the tiniest of sounds. “Do nothing. Just let me sleep."

"Will you be all right?” Thalia whispered. No response. She placed a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. Then she cried herself to sleep.

Early the next morning Thalia awakened with a weight on her chest.
What did you do with my fish?

Thalia shook her head to clear the cobwebs and the world dropped into immediate focus. “Get off me!” She sat straight up in bed and then looked over the edge. Hamilton remained where she had left him on the floor.

Lovers’ spat? What'd he do? Look at some other woman?
The cat jumped down and headed for the bathroom.

"He saved your life you ungrateful fur ball!” Thalia called after Whiskers. Then she got out of bed and kneeled beside Hamilton. She reached out and stroked his forehead. The heat was gone and it felt normal. “Hamilton?” she whispered. “Hamilton?"

Hamilton's eyes flickered open. “Thalia.” He blinked his eyes. “What happened to you? You look awful."