Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2017 03:21:45 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 50-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

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				   *****

			       Chapter Fifty

   "There's a magical spell on those doors," Bloodbane whispered into
Kian's mind. "I don't know what kind, but any spell should be treated with
caution."
   He gazed up from where he crouched perfectly hidden within the shadow of
a gigantic spruce tree at the second-story balcony that led into the
Headmaster's office. Kian was so perfectly balanced on his toes that the
snow didn't even "crinkle," and the only footprints he made were just these
two as he'd teleported here from a few hundred feet away.
   No tracks means it's harder to piece together the crime, Kian thought.
   The doors were closed tightly against the night and the curtains
drawn. But Kian saw a bit of firelight playing along the seam where the
curtains met. Someone was home, and Kian bet that it was the head
necromancer himself.
   Can you cut through it? Kian asked.
   "Of course. But not silently," the sword responded to him. "Something
tells me that you'll want to be extra careful with this one. Never
underestimate a spellcaster. There's some kind of enchantment on the roof
too. I'd guess it's an alarm. The only place I don't detect it is through
the front gate."
   It wasn't over the ruined section...the place where Alexi and Paul had
made their home, Kian said.
   "No...but those were...how did you put it? Ruins? Honestly, Kian,
sometimes I wonder how you even dress yourself. But then again, having one
suit of armor makes things less complicated," Bloodbane said.
   Oh shut up, Kian responded.
   Kian sidestepped back to the street and vanished into the shadows.
Festival goers celebrating the birth of the lamia's third child wound their
way in front of the walls to the academy. Most of the men wore silly hats
called chimeras: they featured the head of a goat, a lion, and a snake,
symbolic because this was Kahket's third child sacrifice. Until the bell
tower that rose above the training grounds of the Cataclysm Slayers of
Zanda rang, the parades, the singing, and the drinking of a carbonated
alcoholic beverage called Goblin Piss (bottled by Wychwood Brewery) would
continue. Kian's skill to disappear in the slightest gloom made him
virtually invisible, and he crouched near a table of four fat men wearing
the festive chimeras and downing bottles of the orange fizzy stuff. They
all sat transfixed by a minstrel who sang "The Assassin's Gambit," which
told how an assassin bungled a job and ended up losing his beloved.
   What a terrible story, Kian thought. It's completely unrealistic.
   "How so?" Bloodbane asked.
   An assassin that bungles a job doesn't end up living. So it's not like
he's around to see his beloved and then lose her, Kian said.
   "A bungle is just a mistake, Kian. Are you saying you don't make
mistakes?"
   I'm perfect at my job, he replied.
   "Oh really? There was that time you trusted Angelaria and she turned on
you."
   That wasn't a mistake...it was an unfortunate life decision, Kian said.
   "What about becoming a Timeron knight? That's a huge mistake and you'll
regret it," Bloodbane said.
   Again...not a mistake. It was...necessary to get Ephram out, Kian said.
   "Which just resulted in him being killed while you were off getting
laid," Bloodbane replied. "That's doozy number two and we are still talking
about the last thirty-six hours."
   Fuck you, Kian thought, scowling (which of course Bloodbane couldn't
see). He reached up and grabbed the man's drink from off the table, popped
his visor, and drained it dry before setting the empty back on the
coaster. A moment later, the man reached for it, saw that nothing remained
but foam, and punched the man in the chair next to him.
   "You owe me another!" he accused. "This cost six pence."
   "What on earth are you talking about?" the man asked, beard
bristling. "I didn't drink your swill. You drank it all up yourself, an' I
ain't got money to waste on you."
   Kian tipped his head to the side, rolling his eyes at the drama. For
what it's worth, it tasted good.
   Kian teleported to a different area so he could get a better look at the
gate to the academy. It just happened to be in a bakery making custom
sandwiches for a line of about fifty people, and Kian (who was starving)
started salivating at the smell of all that fresh bread. He helped himself
to a fresh-made one and started eating as he watched. A customer
immediately to his left (who didn't see Kian because he was so cleverly
hidden) looked around at the floor and said, "Where'd my supper go?" The
woman looked quite upset. She almost bumped into him, but Kian did a nice
pirouette on one leg to avoid hitting her.
   "I can't imagine what that tastes like," Bloodbane said. "But I trust
your mouth opinion. I can see you're quite pleased."
   It's salty and fatty and sweet and sour and yeasty and chewy and crispy
and melty and crunchy all at the same time, Kian responded, gazing at it
sideways. I think this is sandwich perfection, in fact.
   "What's in it?" Bloodbane asked.
   Good question. Ham, cheddar, peanut butter and pickle in a panini. I
honestly think this is the sandwich dreams are made of. It's bloody
fantastic, Kian thought, taking another huge bite.
   By the time he'd finished wolfing the sandwich down, Kian had decided
what he was going to do with the guards at the gate, of which there were
four. Probably increased because of the crowd in the street, Kian thought.
   "Probably," Bloodbane responded.
   There's no spell on the path that leads into the school, is there? Kian
asked.
   "That would be pointless. All the guards would set it off all the time,"
Bloodbane responded.
   Okay, so that's where I go in, Kian thought, rather pleased with
himself.
   Once more he teleported, this time onto the path about fifty feet beyond
the gates. He ducked into the shadows as a patrol of two Blades Acuaruum
soldiers walked by in half-plate armor. He crouched in the overhang of a
large stone staircase. Up top, a balcony perched to overlook the courtyard,
and he imagined Alexi and Paul standing up there watching students rush to
and from class. It was times like these when Kian wished he'd gone to
school, if anything, just to make more friends.
   Granite columns held up a steep roof covered in ceramic tiles now dusted
with white and hung with icicles. Ghostly white flakes swirled around Kian
as he moved under the broad stair, choosing his steps carefully so as to
leave no footprints.
   Kian crept beyond the courtyard, the huge staircase, and into a hall of
flickering light. Torches in sconces and iron chandeliers overhead (that
brimmed with lit tallow candles) shed an amber glow all around him. It
looked warm but was in fact very cold as the corridor opened into the
courtyard, which itself was open to the stars. But there were so many doors
to choose from. Many of them had labels, but of course he couldn't read
them. The fine gold script might as well have been interpretive dance: Kian
had no clue.
   Kian carefully thought about the layout of the place, where he'd
crouched just outside the Headmaster's window, and then decided to take a
corridor to his left. Two more patrols walked right past him, one
underneath him as Kian leapt from a stand to a perch ten feet into the
rafters of a corridor with particularly high ceilings. He balanced on a
three-inch beam, making no sound at all, and listened to their
conversation.
   "I've always wanted to see what goes on beyond that leather door," one
guard snickered. "I swear...sometimes he takes girls in there and you hear
them screaming later."
   "Do they ever come out again?" the other guard asked.
   "Sometimes," the guard admitted, his voice fading down the hall. "But at
other times it's just a bag, but you know there's a body inside because of
the way it sags."
   "What an old pervert..."
   Then they turned the corner and were gone.
   Kian hopped down and landed with the grace of a cat. Leather door, eh?
   Kian moved down the hallway, turning to the right, going past wooden
door after wooden door until he reached the end which banked sharply to the
left. There he saw a door bound in leather and pinned in several places by
buttons. It stood between a pair of statues: one a demon and the other a
unicorn.
   This has to be it, Kian thought, glancing at the plaque to his
right. Office of the Headmaster of the Academy of Necromancy, he imagined
it saying. Who needs to learn to read anyway?
   He retrieved his lockpicks, checked the door, and sure enough found it
to be locked. It took Kian's dexterous fingers a moment to get it open, and
then he slipped inside closing the door behind him. There twenty feet in
front of his boots, stood a curious looking stair all made of bones pieced
together, and they ascended into the gloom and presumably an office up top,
alight with orange flame (probably from the hearth). Kian listened and
heard a voice (male) speaking.
   "This should have worked! Think, Think, Think," Headmaster Boritsi
said. "Go over everything! The Dreaded Irtemara will never accept
failure. You must solve this and tonight!"
   Kian approached the stairs silently, and stopped about ten feet from
them. Deciding to skip them altogether, he teleported to the top and ducked
into the shadow of a cedar armoire, slipping carefully behind a coat
rack. He was so quiet and dexterous, he didn't even disturb a sleeping
raven perched on a wire above the headmaster's desk.
   Still, the necromancer looked up from his seat behind that desk, black
skin reflecting the firelight, and eyes looking drawn and haggard. He
stared into the gloom and cast a spell. Kian felt something try to probe
his mind, but his protection from psionics (of all kinds) deflected it.
   "Your eyes are playing tricks on you, old fool," he muttered.
   Headmaster Boritsi stood up and refilled a tall mug with hot tea. He
added a little dried orange peel and some herb Kian didn't
recognize. Incredibly, the headmaster was probably twenty-five feet away
and Kian could smell the mint and chamomile, he could also sense the man's
heartbeat on his skin through his killsuit.
   Why are my fucking nerves so sensitive all the sudden? Kian asked
himself. No matter, I've a job to do.
   Kian looked up and saw rafters that supported the vaulted
ceiling. Probably not dusted in ages, Kian knew he'd have to land perfectly
or risk dust falling on the man's desk. But it was his best shot at getting
a clean assassination.
   He teleported and alighted on the narrow rafters holding himself up on
his toes. Not a sprinkle of dust fell, even though it was at least half an
inch thick. He also had landed in such a way as to disperse his one-hundred
forty pounds over two beams, and he got lucky that they didn't creak. Kian
took out a piece of folded paper, scooped clear enough dust onto it and
then set that on another rafter...all without making a sound. Below him,
the headmaster sipped at his steaming cup of tea and rubbed his eyes. The
raven continued to sleep, its head buried under one wing.
   Kian looped his legs over the beam and lowered himself over the edge so
that his torso dangled down. The headmaster got up and walked beyond the
curtain to something laying on a table there. Kian smelt
putrefaction. Necromancers and their obsession with rot, Kian thought. It's
the one thing I don't like about Alexi.
   Carefully, he unwound a string until it hovered over the Headmaster's
tea. Popping open a vial of caasak, he let a few drops spill onto the
string and they slowly descended to their destination, plopping one at a
time into his drink. Then he carefully closed the vial of the world's
deadliest poison and retrieved the string, being careful as he wound it to
not send any stray droplets scattering about.
   Odorless and colorless, caasak always caused instantaneous death.
   Kian perched there and watched.
   The headmaster returned, sat once more at his desk, and started rifling
through papers with all kinds of diagrams and drawings of organs and
anatomy. Then he reached for his tea, put it to his lips, and drank from
it. A moment later he gasped, and the raven awoke cawing loudly as the head
necromancer stood, and staggered a few feet, knocking over a case of
potions, and sending several dozen scrolls flying across the floor. Then
the old man fell to his knees, grasping at his neck, and died with white
foam spilling from between his lips.
   All at once, the blackness of his skin fled him, like the night sky
recoiling before the dawn. It formed into a puddle and disappeared into the
shadows of the room.
   "Caw! Caw! Caw!" the raven screeched, looking about the room. But it
couldn't see Kian.
   The assassin of the silver rose pulled himself back up onto the rafter
and teleported to the bottom of the bone stair. Then he slipped out of the
academy and into the night having completed the last mission given to
him. Then he ran as fast as he could back to the Silly Dryad, and the
family who needed him.

				   *****

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