The City of Ravens (27 page)

“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.

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 imposter. 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.” “I see. And the others?”

“We have clues eliminating only three or fewer possibilities, or hearsay that leaves several answers open.”

“And how would you answer the riddle at this very moment?” Jack asked.

“We can confirm the identities of the Red, Orange, Yellow, and Black lords. We suspect the identity of the Purple and Blue lords, and we don’t know about the Green lord—”

“Just a moment,” Jack said. “If you suspect the identity of Purple and Blue and you know the others, you must suspect Green’s identity as well simply through the elimination of possibilities. If you’re right about Purple and Blue, then Green must follow.”

“But I don’t know that I’m right about them,” Illyth countered. “As for the kingdoms: we can confirm Red, Orange, Yellow, and Blue. We suspect Green and Black. And we’re not certain of Purple.”

“Good. Great!” Jack reached over and rifled back to Lady Carp’s answers. “Red, Orange, and Yellow we know for a fact, and we see that Lady Carp’s answers match ours. Therefore, the four errors she made must lie in these eight answers: the identities and kingdoms of the Green, Blue, Purple, and Black lords. We know the identity of the Black lord—which Lady Carp got wrong, by your notes—and the kingdom of the Blue Lord—another failure on her part.

“So, as far as our answer is concerned, Lady Carp

made only two mistakes that we cannot account for, and those mistakes must he in the identities of the Green, Blue, and Purple lords, and the kingdoms of the Green, Purple, and Black lords.”

Illyth frowned in concentration, examining her notes with brow furrowed. “I see. You may be right, Jack. We could be very close. Lady Carp stated that Alcantar was the Green king, Erizum the Blue king, and Geciras the Purple king. But we know that Alcantar is Black, and we don’t know who Carad is supposed to be… in fact, we have contradictory clues about Carad.”

“Contradictory?” Jack looked at her notebook again. “Oh, you can scratch out that one. I made that up.”

Illyth did a double take. “You did what?”

““Carad is not the Green Lord.’ I made up that clue, when I was trading clues by hearsay with somebody. Lord Ram, I believe.”

“Hmmph. I received that clue from Lady Nightingale, who is Ram’s date for the Game. What a mess you’ve made of this whole thing, Jack!”

The rogue smiled. “A good thing you discovered it, then. Look, we’re almost here.” The coach rolled up a short, steep street, halting in front of one of the city’s theatres, rented out for the night by the Game organizers. He hopped out and helped Illyth down; they joined the throng of Game-goers waiting to enter.

Lords and ladies chatted gaily, bundled up in furs and heavy cloaks against the chilly weather. Jack and Illyth passed through the atrium, donned their masks, and joined the revelers milling around in the main lobby of the theater. The entire chamber was decorated in shades of blue. Azure arrases covered the walls, the ceiling overhead was painted to resemble clear sky, and the footmen and attendants were dressed in dark navy blue waistcoats.

“I see no sign of Tiger or Mantis,” Illyth observed.

“Maybe they’ve given up their plotting. It would be a pleasant change simply to play the Game for once.”

“I suggest that we should do what we can to examine our last remaining possibilities,” Jack said. “Look for players you haven’t spoken to before now, and see if their clues help to settle things.”

Illyth nodded. The crowd began to shuffle toward the entrance to the theatre proper, filing out of the lobby and into the darkened auditorium. The chamber was small and intimate, filled with ornate boxes and stands that lined the walls. An usher greeted them and showed them to a small box low on the left-hand side. In a few minutes, the entire chamber was filled with masked Game players, continuing their conversations from outside, circling from box to box and leaning over the balustrades to gossip with each other. In the first box, high on the right wall, the Blue King sat enthroned, attended by guards in lacquered ceremonial armor.

“The play will interfere with the Game,” Jack observed. “It seems as though the entertainment is not well thought out.”

“Oh, no one really watches anyway,” Dlyth said. “When you go to the theater, it’s all about talking to anyone seated nearby and speculating about who’s been seated with whom and why.”

“I thought you were a fan of the theater!”

“I am, but most people aren’t.” The curtain rose, and a couple of actors in ridiculous costumes marched out onto the stage and began a comic scene of some kind. Scattered Game-goers watched and laughed, applauding the clever lines, but most turned to their neighbors and continued their conversations as if nothing else was taking place.

Jack and Illyth cast about for some additional clues but failed to find anything definitive. In the meantime,

the play—a short skit of only twenty minutes or so— came to an end, and the actors departed the stage. The Master Crafter Randall Morran took their place and raised his arms for attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Another contestant dares the Riddle of the Seven Faceless Lords!”

Illyth groaned. “Oh, no!”

Jack shook his head. “Wait and see,” he said. “It might be nothing more than a series of guesses. We aren’t finished yet.”

This time, Lord Hawk and Lady Hare took the stage. Hawk, a rather short and unassuming fellow whose grand title seemed at odds with his appearance, cleared his throat and pulled out a small journal.

“Our solution: the Red Lord is Buriz of Pentar; the Orange Lord is Fatim of Septun; the Yellow Lord is Dubhil of Trile; the Green Lord is Carad of Quarra; the Blue Lord is Erizum of Unen; the Purple Lord is Geciras of Dues; and the Black Lord is Alcantar of Hexan.” He finished with a confident smirk, evidently pleased with himself.

“Alas, my lord Hawk, your solution is erroneous in three respects,” Morran said. He turned to face up to the box where the Blue Lord sat. “My lord king? Your judgment in this matter?”

The Blue Lord extended one arm and turned his thumb down.

Randall Morran laughed and turned to Lord Hawk and Lady Hare. “Off with your heads, then! You may unmask and remain for the rest of the evening’s festivities, or you may leave now and protect your anonymity.”

Hawk shrugged. “I’ll stay,” he said. “I want to see if anyone gets it right.” He doffed his mask to a polite applause and helped Lady Hare down from the stage.

“You see? We are not done,” Jack said. “Optimism is a virtue, my lady—Illyth?”

Illyth ignored him, rifling through her journal and hurriedly making notes. “Lady Carp said that Alcantar was the Green Lord,” she muttered to herself, “but we know that he’s the Black Lord. So that means that Car ad, Geciras, and Erizum are in some combination the Green, Blue, and Purple Lords, since we have confirmed the identities of four others. Lord Hawk said that the Orange Lord ruled Septun, but we know that he rules Quarra. That means that Green, Purple, and Black must rule Hexan, Septun, and Dues…”

“Are you onto something?”

“Quiet! Lady Carp made four errors… we know that Alcantar is the Black Lord, which is one of her errors— but we also know that Alcantar can’t be the Green Lord as she said, so there is a second error! And we know the Blue Lord rules Unen, where Lady Carp said Dues. There are three mistakes. And thus when she said the Green Lord rules Unen, she made her fourth mistake.” Illyth looked up from her journal. “Jack, I know all four errors in Lady Carp’s solution.”

Jack leaned over to study her journal. “Then you should mark in everything except those four errors in her solution as tried and confirmed, and add it to the list of variables we have already confirmed. Now how does it look?”

“That confirms every lord except the Green Lord— who must be Carad since no other is left!” Illyth’s voice rose in excitement. “And every kingdom except the Green Lord’s, which must be Dues! Jack, I solved it!”