White Plume Mountain

desolate land. North is also the direction of Iuz, so we’re probably looking for a spy from Iuz, someone who cansummon those abyssal bats. He therefore either is a sorcerer or has one readily at hand. Sorcerers have a need to purchase some pretty strange supplies. We’ll start asking at shops that cater to magic-users.”

Escalla made a face. “And if he brought his own stuff alongwith him?”

“We’ll cruise the taverns for a while and ask questions.” TheJusticar felt a glow of inner fire as he anticipated the hunt. This was what he did best, and at the end of it the world would be just a little better. “We seeif anyone new has set up in town-anyone with money. Do you know what this personlooked like?”

“Um, yeah.” Escalla blinked. “Tallish, kinda short; fattish,kinda thin; bald with long red hair; a big hatchet nose; robes with lots of charms hanging from it…” The girl creased her brows in thought. “Oh! And hehad his face painted black on one side, white on the other!”

Her partner stared at her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Forfuture reference, the face makeup is probably the most important point of reference.”

“You think so? Oh, sure!” The girl gave a shrug. “Whatever.”

Annoyed, the ranger shook his head and let the subject drop. “Face painting. It’s either a cult, a loony, or a damned good disguise.” Workingwith practiced efficiency, the man hung an old horse blanket about himself-oneof the few treasures he had bought along the road-and hid the hilt of his sword.“Nothing for it. We go dig for information. You keep invisible, and we’ll seewhat we both hear.”

“Sure. Sounds like a plan!” There was a brief pop, andEscalla winked out of view. “I can only keep it up for half an hour, though. Itgets tiring, and too much of it gives me dandruff!”

“So make a nest in the backpack for when you need to rest.”

“Hoopy!” Invisible wings whirred. “Hey, Cinders! You and meget to be cozy!”

Cozy…

The trio traveled down a muddy road. They were soon joined by farmers, traders, and weary militia men. Walking along beside a reeking wagon load of pickled cabbage, the Justicar felt pixie wings tickle at his ears.

“Hey, Jus!”

“Yes?”

“Can we get an inn room with a hot bath?”

The ranger rattled his purse. “Using just exactly what to payfor it?”

“I’m working on it!” The girl seemed immensely cheerful forsomeone on a deathlist. “No thieving! We just have to apply our talents to theproblem at hand.”

The concerns of money were a distraction from the work. Frowning, the Justicar thought about it and wearily shook his head. “We can liverough. The job is all that matters.” He gripped his black sword. “Justice mustbe done.”

Escalla’s voice became silkily sly. She gave sweet reason ahoneyed tongue.

“Hey, you’re a law enforcer. You need to be able to collectyour thoughts, yeah?” Invisible little wings purred. “How can you investigate ifthere’s nowhere to take a load off your feet after a hard days grind?”

“We’ll see.”

The road up ahead had become blocked with traffic outside the city gates. Trigol’s city guards flanked the gatehouse, and the Justicar lookedgrim as he heard the distant jingling of coin.

The gate guards were bored-looking men in mail armor carrying halberds or bows. Sure enough, the traffic jam was caused by these individuals extracting a fee from every person seeking to enter the city. The Justicar sighed, impatiently waited his turn, and then marched forward to hear the bad news.

A guard proffered his open palm in the time-honored sign. “Pass chip?”

The Justicar glowered. “What?”

“No pass chip? That’s one gold noble entry fee.” The boredguard snapped his fingers. “Keep it moving.”

One whole noble! The Justicar seemed to grow three inches in height as he crackled with outrage.

“You want how much?”

“Militia tax.” The guard wore a silk shirt beneath hisarmor-apparently levied as a tax from a traveller. “Unless you join the militiaor ship in supplies, you pay to pass the gates.”

About to argue, the Justicar suddenly found something prodding into his hand. He open his palm and found a gold piece gleaming in the sun.

The guard took it and threw the coin into a collection barrel beside the gate. “Have a nice stay.”

Looming over the guard, the Justicar seethed for a moment and then went on his way.

As he stalked away, Escalla’s voice lilted behind him throughthe air. “Bye guys!”

Bye.

Guards jerked about in suspicion, but saw nothing except the gleam of fangs and eyes inside the Justicar’s backpack. Frowning, the men turnedaway and went back to the daily business of extortion.

Walking down a wide, cobbled street hung with a hundred different wooden shop signs, the Justicar simmered with indignation.

“I was going to bring them to heel. They’re charging tentimes the rate they’ve been told to and are keeping the excess for themselves.”

“It’s no problem!” Escalla’s invisible bottom settled uponthe ranger’s head. “Why worry?”

“Exploitation of the weak must be punished.” TheJusticar’s voice boomed like the pronouncement of doom. “And we needed themoney.”

“Money? You still have twelve nobles. You’re no worse offthan before.”

Halting, the man touched his purse. He flicked his eyes to stare at the blank air behind him. “You stole!”

“I took it from the guard, so it wasn’t thieving. It was aredistribution of misdirected assets.”

The Justicar gave a bristling growl. “It’s still stealing.”

“No, no! It’s anti-stealing!” Escalla could twist logic withthe best of them. “Think of it as un-money.”

“What?”

The faerie hovered invisibly in midair. “Well, is there adifference between normal goods and stolen goods?”

“Of course there is!”

“And you yourself would never use stolen goods-so thatmeans there’s a taint, right?” The girl drove home her logic point by point.“So, if stolen goods are different from unstolen goods, then stolen-ness is aquality added to normal items to mark them as stolen. Am I right? In this case, the coin was already stolen, so I myself didn’t transfer any quality ofstolen-ness onto it.”

Breathing slow and hard, the Justicar sensed the distinct presence of a fallacy. “It’s still stolen property.”

“How about this one? A mathematical proof.” Escalla drummed alittle tattoo onto the Justicar’s skull. “Look, theft is a negative thing. Now aminus and a minus is a positive, right? Therefore, two wrongs must make a right. I just did a good thing, and you should therefore congratulate me.”

The Justicar drew a long, slow breath. “I’m letting it passjust this once because you only took one coin. Don’t do it again.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever!”

Clamped inside Cinders’ gleaming teeth were three morecoins. Escalla’s invisible fingers carefully closed the dog’s mouth to hide herill-gotten gain from view.

“You all right, pooch?”

All right.

6

The trio stood in a street thronged with crowds intent ongetting indoors before the autumn evening brought the cold. Here in the outer regions, refugees had made rough shelters leaning against the city wall. Their rags were