'We're not healers,' Egil said. 'Talk to the priestesses of Orella.'
'Or maybe we can offer healing,' Nix said slyly. 'But only if you take off-'
'Spare me such nonsense,' the voice said, taking on a sharp edge before going dull once more on false sincerity. 'I know quite well what you are. You're mere thieves and robbers.'
Nix tried not to feel offended by the 'mere.'
'My sisters' sickness isn't of this world. They're cursed and it's the curse that caused me to seek you out.'
'We're not wizards, either,' Egil said.
'No doubt,' the man said. 'Further, the curse makes them… dangerous, to themselves and others.'
Mention of a curse and danger piqued Nix's natural curiosity about things magical. 'How'd they come to be cursed?'
Once more the sharp edge to the voice, and louder this time. Nix imagined the man standing directly over him, staring down daggers.
' How, you ask? You? Here is how: the actions of ignorant miscreants caused it. Their mess is now mine to clean.'
'I have a fondness for miscreants generally,' Nix said with a shrug. 'Not so much for messes.'
'Nix…' Egil cautioned.
'I told you, my lord,' Baras said. 'He never stops.'
The man continued: 'You may find that your fondness for low things one day puts you on the wrong end of blade or spell.'
'Aye, that,' Nix conceded with a tilt of his head. 'Happens oft enough already. This very moment, for example.'
'That's truth,' Egil said.
The man inhaled deeply, as if calming himself. 'The curse must be lifted before Minnear is full.'
'That's not long,' Nix said. 'Or?'
'Or… my sisters will die.'
'A sad, sad tale,' Nix said. 'Well, a sincere wish of good luck to you and them. There's nothing we can-'
A cuff to Nix's head from one of the guards quieted him. Probably came from Baras. Not hard enough to have been Jyme's hand.
'Even when your life hangs by a hair you jest and make light?' the man said.
'Habit,' Nix explained. 'One bad one of many, I admit.'
'Your purpose remains unclean,' Egil said. 'What help can we be to your sisters? And why would we offer any, given the lumps on my skull and the bag over my head?'
'I can only lift the curse if I possess a certain item, a magical horn.'
'A gewgaw,' Egil sniffed.
'What horn?' Nix asked. 'How can a horn lift a curse?'
The man ignored Nix's question. 'My research reveals that the horn can be found in the tomb of Abn Thuset.'
'Research?' Egil asked. 'What are you? A sage?'
'Oh, I see now,' Nix said. 'You need tomb robbers to procure this horn for you.' Nix shifted on his backside, feeling more in control of matters. 'Abn Thuset was, of course, one of the greatest wizard-kings of ancient Afirion. But his tomb is lost to history and sand. Many have sought it, but no one knows where it is. Unless…'
'I know where it is,' the man said.
'Unless that,' Nix said, though he was still skeptical. 'How do you know you've found it?'
'And if you have, then go get this horn for yourself,' Egil said. 'As I said to your man back at the Tunnel, we're not hirelings.'
'I'm not offering you employment,' the man said, his tone cool. 'I could, however, order you to do it.'
'Order us?' Egil said with a chuckle. 'And just who in the Pits are you to order us?'
A long pause, then a hand seized the burlap sack around Nix's head and tore it off, taking a few hairs with it. Nix blinked in the lantern light. Jyme held the bag and leered at him, all pockmarks, bad breath, and poorly groomed facial hair.
'Bottom rung on top now, eh?' Jyme said.
'Maybe for now,' Nix answered.
They were in a dirt-floored warehouse filled with barrels, amphorae, sacks, and crates. A block and tackle, and a net for loading transport carts hung from the ceiling. Nix looked for any trading coster marks, but saw none. It was probably a rented warehouse used to move illicit goods.
Egil was on the ground near Nix, and Baras pulled the bag from his head. Like Nix, the priest blinked in the lantern light. Nix eyed the man who'd been speaking, the man who purported to have authority to issue them orders.
He wore a tailored shirt of silk and trousers of velvet, with a high-collared fur-ruffed wool cape thrown over the whole. A thin sword — a nobleman's blade, not a warrior's — hung from a wide belt with a silver buckle. His narrow face, combined with his sharp nose and the widely spaced, deep-set eyes, gave him a reptilian cast. His short brown hair had a part in it as sharp and straight as a plumb line. Dark circles stained the skin under his bloodshot eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
'You're the Lord Mayor's sorcerer,' Nix said, recognizing the man's face. He searched his mind for a name, couldn't quite find it.
'I'm the Lord Mayor's Adjunct,' the man corrected, and then Nix had the name.
'Rakon Norristru.'
Rakon held the ivory and pearl wand Nix had taken from the tomb of Abn Thahl, the wand with which he'd accidentally shrunk himself and Egil.
Seeing it, Nix winced with embarrassment. Rakon pointed the wand at Nix.
'My men say you know a bit about sorcery. History, too, I gather, from your knowledge of Abn Thuset.'
'I had a year at the Conclave.'
Rakon's thin eyebrows went up. 'Really? And how might you have afforded such an education?'
Nix did not bother with the sordid story that ended with him stealing an education from a dead man. 'Well, that's a tale long in telling. I managed, let's say.'
'Hmm. And you dropped out after a year?'
'No!' Nix said, trying to stand and nearly toppling himself sidewise in his irritation. 'Dammit! Why does everyone assume I dropped out? I was expelled after a year. Expelled.'
Rakon nodded, not really listening. He tapped the wand on his palm. His hands were small, the fingers long.
'Well, in that year you seem to have learned only enough to endanger yourself. I looked through your satchel. It's filled with magical trinkets you're probably too stupid or undereducated to use properly.'
'Listen, if you're trying to charm me with kind words…' Nix said.
'A bag of gewgaws,' Egil breathed contemptuously.
'Unhelpful,' Nix snapped at him.
'Perhaps you should stick to plying the many blades my men removed from your person?' Rakon said.
'Perhaps,' Nix grumbled. 'I'd give much to have one in hand right now.'
'I'd wager you would,' Rakon said. He bent down and held the wand before Nix's eyes. He tapped the pearl tip on the end of Nix's nose. 'You see that?'
Nix went cross-eyed. 'Well, no, not really.'
'That's an inversion notation, written in the Mages' Tongue. You missed it, I assume, unless you intended to shrink and weaken yourself and the priest?'
The guards chuckled.
'Probably you thought it would make you stronger, larger?'
Nix felt himself color. Egil had the good grace not to mock him.
'Leave off, Adjunct,' Egil said.
' Lord Adjunct,' Baras corrected.
'Adjunct is what he gets from me,' Egil said again, and stuck out his jaw.
