Liavek 5 Read online

  Copyright

  Dedication

  "An Act of Mercy" by Megan Lindholm and Steven Brust

  "The World in the Rock" by Kara Dalkey

  "Baker's Dozen" by Bradley Denton

  "Green Is the Color" by John M. Ford

  Appendix: "A Liavekan Songbook"

  1. "City of Luck: The Liavekan National Anthem" by Jane Yolen

  2. "The Ballad of the Quick Levars" by Jane Yolen

  3. "Eel Island Shoals" by John M. Ford

  4. "Pot-boil Blues" by John M. Ford

  LIAVEK 5: Wizard's Row

  edited by Will Shetterly and Emma Bull

  Copyright

  Smashwords edition

  Ace edition/1987

  CatYelling edition/2016

  Copyeditors for the CatYelling Edition:

  Rebecca Stanich and Will Shetterly

  All rights reserved. Copyright © 1987 by Will Shetterly and Emma Bull.

  "An Act of Mercy" © 1987 by Megan Lindholm Ogden and Steven K. Z. Brust.

  ''The World in the Rock" © 1987 by Kara Dalkey.

  "Baker's Dozen" © 1987 by Bradley Denton.

  "Green Is the Color" © 1987 by John M. Ford.

  "City of Luck" © 1987 by Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple.

  "The Ballad of the Quick Levars" © 1987 by Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple.

  "Eel Island Shoals" © 1987 by John M. Ford.

  "Pot-boil Blues" © 1987 by John M. Ford.

  Dedication

  For Gene, Pat, Steve, Nancy, Jane, Kara, Pamela, Megan, Barry, Charles, Nate, Greg, Charles, Mike, Brad, Caroline, and Alan.

  "An Act of Mercy" by Megan Lindholm and Steven Brust

  KALOO RATTLED DOWN the stairs that led from her attic bedroom above the Mug and Anchor to the tavern's common room. The little silk fan she had pinned inside her robe rasped against her breast; her feet barely kissed each step in passing. This was her birthday; her luck time would begin this afternoon, and if she was going to invest her luck she hadn't a moment to waste. Those precious moments when one might take the luck created during one's birth time and place it in an object, to be called on at will for magic, came but once a year. She had waited long enough; by this evening she would be able to hold her luck in her hand. She rounded the corner at the base of the stairs and slammed her head into the shelf that held the extra lanterns. There was a warning rattle of crockery and Kaloo winced, expecting all of them to come tumbling down around her. But they didn't. "Lucky thing," she said to herself, rubbing her bruised forehead. She heard her own words and had to grin.

  "You're getting taller, girl. Grow any more, and I'll have to re-carpenter the inn to fit you."

  "I guess so," she replied cautiously. T'Nar, her foster father, sat at one of the scarred trestle tables before the low fire burning in the hearth. The usually noisy room was all but empty today. The sailor folk that made up their trade were all on the docks now, mending net, tarring seams, and generally preparing boats for another season of fishing. Kaloo was a little surprised to see T'Nar still here. A mug of beer was going flat on the table before him.

  Silence hung a moment in the room. T'Nar picked up his mug in his wide scarred hands, turning it slowly while watching the beer inside. From the tar on his fingers and the rigger's knife in his belt and the smell of oakum in the room, she knew that he had been working on one of the boats. He didn't seem to fish as much as he once had, but every spring when the fleet was busy with repairs, his skills were in demand.

  She hadn't seen much of him lately, but it wasn't the fault of his long working hours. She suspected he had been avoiding her as much as she had him. Lately they couldn't say ten words to one another without it turning into a quarrel. Better not to speak at all. She shrugged and headed toward the kitchen, where L'Fertti, her tutor in matters of luck and magic, was usually to be found these days.

  "Taller and older." T'Nar's voice stopped her again. "Going to be tall and slender."

  "I guess so," she said guardedly. He was speaking so slowly and carefully, as if each word were heavy with meaning. Was he drunk, this early in the day? Or could he possibly be as melancholy as he sounded? She looked at him carefully, and found herself staring. When had his beard become so grizzled, the lines in his face so deep? Hard to recognize the man who had caught and tossed the child Kaloo, or been able to carry the ten-year-old girl kicking and squirming under one of his thick arms.

  He sighed heavily. "Kaloo. You're getting to an age when you have to know things. About yourself. Things that may change the way others think of you, the way you think of yourself. Things maybe you should have known…"

  "Yes?" She took two quick steps forward. She sensed secrets hovering in his words, things she suspected he knew and had never admitted. Such as who her parents had been, and why they had abandoned her in a ditch for him to find.

  But her eagerness seemed to make him reconsider, for he fell silent, staring up at her. "Yes?" she repeated again.

  He only gazed at her, his dark eyes pained. She had a sudden, uneasy feeling that he wasn't seeing her at all. He spoke unwillingly. "You look almost…well, but…" He shook his head suddenly, forbidding himself something. With a visible effort he smiled. When he spoke, his voice was falsely gay. "It's time you had some clothes that fit you. That's what 1 was thinking. That robe you're wearing is too short and too wide. Doesn't suit you. That's all."

  He took a sip of his flat beer. Kaloo glared at him, then turned abruptly away. She was getting tired of the way he treated her. She wasn't a child anymore, as he and Daril seemed to think. She knew the robe didn't suit her. Angry words bubbled up in her, but she choked them down. She didn't have time to argue with T'Nar today. She had more important things to do. And if she succeeded, she'd soon change the semblance of this garment to something more flattering. Maybe some Zhir pants and a tunic, in pale blue.

  She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Voices spilled out to greet her. "… and then roll the vegetables in the freshly crushed herbs before adding them to the pot-boil, Daril, thus combining the essence of the flavors before cooking. That's all I'm suggesting."

  L'Fertti was leaning against the wall of the pleasantly cluttered kitchen. The pot-boil in its blackened kettle was simmering over the kitchen fire, sending out tendrils of savory steam. Daril was busy chopping vegetables on the heavy wooden kitchen table. Her back was to them both as she spoke. "And I'm suggesting that I've been making this pot-boil since I was old enough to stir a kettle, and it's not going to change now. You know a bit about herbs and spices, I'll grant you, but this is my family's recipe, more than one hundred and fifty years old. No street wizard is going to change it now!"

  "Street wizard!" L'Fertti bristled, but Kaloo interrupted.

  "L'Fertti. About my lesson today…"

  "Later, Kaloo. This afternoon, perhaps. Daril, how you can call me—"

  "Later won't work, L'Fertti. It has to be now." The asperity in Kaloo's voice drew both their attentions to her.

  The look of puzzlement faded suddenly from L'Fertti's face. He spoke in a warning voice. "On the contrary, Kaloo. I think we should skip any lesson for the day. I think you ought to consider taking a nap." He filched a wedge of spiny-heart tuber from Daril's cutting board and crunched into it as he gave Kaloo a warning stare.

  "She does look a bit peaked," Daril observed, whacking the vegetables into chunks. "But she always does right before her blood-time. And cantankerous, just as she is now. Didn't you tell me you had an herbal drink for that kind of peevishness, L'Fertti?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do. You take dandelion root and—"

  Kaloo exploded. "I am sick and tired of the way everyone around here treats me! Daril, how can you speak of my bloodtime before L'Fertti!
And you, you're supposed to be tutoring me in mastering my luck, but you spend all your days in the kitchen arguing with Daril over recipes and simpering at the eggs-and-milk girl! I shall never invest my luck at the rate you teach me!"

  Silence reigned for an instant in the kitchen. Then the two adults exchanged glances.

  "Simpering?" L'Fertti asked in an acid voice. "I?"

  Daril shot him a conspiratorial glance, then spoke soothingly.

  "Well, my little Kookaloo, why don't you let L'Fertti teach you to mix his herbal cure today, then? It's a useful thing for any woman to know, whether she aspires to be a wizard or not. Might get rid of that nasty bloaty feeling that can make a woman feel like ripping into the first person to cross her. And—"

  Kaloo ignored her, fixing her narrowed black eyes on the lounging wizard. Her voice was low and cold. "I want my lesson, L'Fertti. And not about herbal cures. You know what I'm talking about."

  "Correction, apprentice. I know what I'm talking about. You obviously have no notion of what you are asking. I strongly suggest you spend the day quietly."

  "No. I have other plans, and I intend to carry them out. With you or without you." Kaloo delivered the ultimatum quietly.

  L'Fertti snorted. "I don't know what you think you can do without me, but go ahead. Go right ahead and try. Maybe it will teach you a lesson you do need, very much: humility. And respect for one's teacher. Go ahead. Prove to yourself just how little you know."

  "I will." Kaloo turned, her whole body shaking with anger. She flung the swinging door open, and strode out through the common room, past T'Nar, who looked up suddenly.

  "Kaloo. I've decided it's time."

  "So have I," she answered bitterly, striding past him. From the corner of her eye, she saw him rise and come after her. Let him. He'd never keep up with her. She'd lose him in the alleys before she was three blocks from the inn. And serve him right. Serve them all right. They thought she was such a child, such a helpless infant. Wait until she returned this evening. Then they'd see. The Kookaloo nestling they'd raised was about to spread her wings. She could feel her luck inside her, rising like a summer squall. It swept her into the bright spring streets of Liavek.

  •

  The stump of Dashif's left leg still hurt a little where the wooden peg joined it, but not enough to wreck his mood. His master, the Regent, was keeping him busy, but not too busy, and today he was on his own.

  As he left the palace he concentrated on his walk, practicing to get rid of the limp. His spies had heard no rumors of his new weakness, so his enemies probably didn't know of it, which was good. The railroad business was working its way to a nice conclusion, and his dreams of Erina, whom he had murdered so long ago, had become less haunting since he had heard—or imagined?—her voice forgiving him from the land of the dead.

  The thoughts flitted through his mind as he found a footcab and commanded it to take him to the docks. He had time now to deal with his own business. A girl who had saved his life, though he had terrorized her. His spies had kept a watch on her until he was feeling himself again, for there was no urgency.

  He took in the air near the canal. The scent of broiling fish made him mildly hungry, and the sky was a deep blue that almost made him hurt from the beauty of it. He decided he was going to enjoy this. Today he would find who she was, and why she'd been following him. It was strictly a personal matter and there was no hurry. And, for a change, no particular danger.

  He checked the charges on his pistols and replaced them in his wide leather belt. The cab stopped outside the Mug and Anchor. Dashif paid the cabman with a full levar. He was feeling magnanimous.

  •

  Kaloo was out of breath and her hair stuck to the back of her neck. She jumped, caught the top of the rickety wooden fence, and hauled herself up to it. For an instant she had a view of the canal, the blue-brown water cluttered with traffic, and then she was over the fence, dropping into the untended jungle that L'Fertti referred to as his herb garden. She crunched through the standing dead stems of last year's growth to his back door. She hoped it wouldn't be warded.

  It wasn't. It swung stiffly open to her push, revealing L'Fertti's tiny kitchen and cooking hearth. Flies buzzed over something grayish in a dish on the table. Probably old porridge. Very old. The table was dusty, the hearth completely cold. It was getting so the wizard spent more time hanging about the kitchen of the Mug and Anchor than he did making his cures and potions. Well, and why wouldn't he? He had Daril's cooking, Daril's company, and Kaloo to order about. And the sailors were beginning to buy magic salves for gurry-infected hands and arthritic aches from him. Kaloo expected that when Daril found out about his trade with her customers, she'd put an end to it. But, for now, L'Fertti was gone and his home would supply Kaloo with everything she needed for her investiture. It gave her a sense of justice.

  She took out the fan and spread its colors on L'Fertti's dusty table. That would hold her luck, once she'd captured it. From her pocket she took the tattered guidebook. She tried to imagine how L'Fertti would look if he knew she had this. He wouldn't have been so high and mighty this morning.

  She unrolled the spindled pamphlet. YOU, TOO, CAN INVEST YOUR LUCK! proclaimed the ornate purple letters on the yellowing cover. A border of cabalistic signs and mysterious calligraphies framed the words. She had bought the pamphlet for three coppers from Dumps, Saffer's friend, who always had booklets like Zhir Love Secrets, and Potions for Lovers, and Ten Ways to Summon Rikiki.

  Kaloo wiped her sweaty hands down the front of her robe. She opened the pamphlet to the table of contents. She decided to use the Basic Investiture for Beginners this time, and found that page. Next year she'd try one of the fancier settings, when she could afford the crystal bowls and expensive perfumes they required. But for this time…she ran her finger down the list of required equipment. Black candles L'Fertti always had, and the herbs were no problem. A lock of hair…she'd use some of her own. The same for the spoonful of maiden's blood. Just as well she hadn't spent her virginity yet. She had no idea where else in Liavek she'd find that ingredient. The rest seemed to be standard wizard's equipment. With a bit of rummaging in L'Fertti's cupboards, she'd find what she needed. Humming to herself, she got up to kindle a fire and put the kettle on. She had an hour or so before she could begin. Calmness came over her as her purpose grew strong. By tonight, power would be hers.

  •

  Dashif was perfectly aware of the silence that settled over the Mug and Anchor when he stepped through the door. He relished the effect. He looked around, hoping to spot Kaloo at once. It was a rather tidy little place, a bit dark, permeated with the sharp aroma of pot-boil and waterfront folk. A small fire burned in a great hearth at one end of the room. Seven patrons stopped their conversations, but avoided looking at Dashif or each other. One plump middle-aged woman, the host to judge by her apron and the mugs in her hand, stared at him boldly.

  Dashif showed her his teeth and approached her. Before she could speak he said, "You must be Daril. I'm looking for Kaloo. Where is she?"

  Dashif noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the patrons gave a start. Daril noticed it, too, and spared him a glare, then met Dashif's eyes again, her jaws clamped tightly together. "Why do you want to know?" she countered after a moment.

  "Don't question me. Fetch the girl at once." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the patron, a lanky graybeard, stiffen. Daril said, "I don't know—" and stopped as Dashif removed a pistol. He took two steps over to the patron, cocked the weapon, and held it to the old man's head.

  "Does this fellow matter to you, mistress?"

  Daril paused, her eyes flickering between the two of them. Her eyes were very wide, her face pink, but she tried the bluff anyway. "Not especially. If you don't mind all these witnesses, you just go ahead and shoot him."

  "Daril!" cried the old man. Then he turned to Dashif. "Sir, I beg of you…"

  "Tell me where she is or shut up."

  "She's left," he s
aid quickly. Then, licking dry lips, he ventured, "But for a few coins—"

  "L'Fertti!" cried Daril.

  "Ah," said Dashif. "So that's who you are. All right, tell me where she is. If you don't, I'll kill you. Try any of your silly magic and I'll turn you into a three-legged stool and feed the fire with you."

  L'Fertti turned pale. "I don't know," he said. "She ran out."

  "Well, you're a wizard and she's your apprentice. Find her."

  "I can't."

  "Then you're dead."

  L'Fertti clawed at his beard, then closed his eyes in sudden concentration.

  "L'Fertti, no!" cried Daril.

  Dashif looked at her again. "Another outburst from you, mistress, and I'll kill you, and I'll still find out what I want. I happen to know that Kaloo cares for you. Be wise for her sake then, if you haven't the wit to do so for yourself."

  A long moment dragged before L'Fertti jerked upright in his chair. "That little minx! She's at my house, rifling through my supplies. What she thinks she's doing, I don't—" Then he sat back. "Oh, no."

  Dashif studied him for a moment, then said, 'This is her luck day?"

  L'Fertti nodded. Daril gasped. "You!" she cried, and started moving toward the wizard. Dashif transferred his pistol to his left hand, but still held it at L'Fertti's head. With his right hand he slapped Daril. She gave a cry and staggered back.

  L'Fertti stood up and said, "Sir—"

  "Where do you live, L'Fertti?" asked Dashif in his best soft, sinister voice. L'Fertti sat down again and buried his face in his hands.

  •

  Now that she was actually going to do it, the directions in the book seemed less than clear. She'd had to nick three of her fingers to get the spoonful of maiden's blood, and the closest thing to a silver vessel in L'Fertti's cupboard was a tarnished sugar bowl. She set the fan across the booklet to hold it open, and frowned at the crude illustration. It called for the lock of hair, but never mentioned where to put it or what to do with it. She shook her head irritably and set the lock aside. She wiped her damp palms down her robe. Time to start. No sense putting it off.