Opening the Magic Safe
"Yes!"
Delighted, Chris drank down wood-attribute mana in greedy pulls. The mana drifting in the air, though, could not supply what he needed. Short of it, the weaving of the ring slowed, and he worried the shortage would leave the ring thin and poorly bound. He muttered, desperate.
"I need mana stones."
Absorbing them had never done him any good, so he had spent every stone he came by as if it were coin—and now he wanted them desperately. He turned the blame on himself.
I shouldn't have gone to the auction.
The branch manager of the Black Hand Guild had urged him to recover the highest-grade mana stones paid out as the purchase price, and Chris had been swept along in the man's design.
The mage Mahal—the foul-tempered fat man Chris remembered from the auction house—was aboard the same ship. He leaned his swollen belly against the rail and stared out at the sea, and beside him stood Franco, the one Chris had shaken down to the last coin.
"Getting yourself robbed like a fool. Stupid little bastard."
Ever since they had boarded, Mahal had torn into Franco twice a day.
"If you'd been at the auction, I'd have borrowed your mana stones and won."
Franco floundered.
"I'm sorry."
Cold sweat slid down his cheek.
"The defensive magic tools, the magic safe—I'd have taken the bid on every one of them."
"I'm sorry."
"There must have been an incredible treasure in that magic safe. I had a feeling!"
Wilmer, the skinny mage who had meant to ambush Chris alongside Mahal, was on the same ship. He stood at the gunwale, watching the horizon, then came over.
"Doesn't something feel off?"
Mahal's answer was curt.
"Nothing's off."
"Feel the flow of mana. It's churning. Not like usual."
Mahal reached for the mana and frowned.
"You're right. What is this?"
"Someone's working magic."
"In the middle of the open sea? Who? Why? For what?"
"That's why I said it's strange."
"Let's find out."
The two of them set off after the source of the suspicious mana. The current ran violent toward the first-class cabins on the upper deck.
"It's someone in first class."
"Know who's staying there?"
"No. Never even seen them."
"There."
They were closing on the suspect cabin when the door of the room beside it opened, and out came the old man who had briefly played doorkeeper when Chris visited the Header branch of the Black Hand Guild. He raked the two mages with a sour look.
"What is it?"
The tone was blunt. Mahal's temper was fire, and with the old man blocking the way he snapped.
"Out of the way, old man."
"Only first-class passengers come through here."
"I'm first class too."
The old man held out a hand.
"Let's see your ticket."
"You little shit, daring to talk to a mage!"
Mahal drew his staff and loomed, threatening. A cold voice came from behind him.
"Threatening a guild member aboard a Black Hand ship. What tremendous authority."
They turned. Doltan, manager of the Header branch, was standing there.
Mahal snorted.
"What's so great about the Black Hand?"
"In Britan, not much. But this ship is bound for the Empire, and over there our Black Hand Guild farts loud enough to matter."
"I'm a mage!"
"Climbing the realms costs a mage a great many resources... I take it you never want to set foot in our auction house again."
Mahal faltered.
"Who's staying in there?"
"I'm a passenger, not the captain. How would I know? And just so we're clear—even if you go to the captain, you won't find out. The Black Hand Guild keeps its clients' secrets thoroughly."
Mahal glared from the old man barring the way to the branch manager warning him from behind, then turned his back on the first-class cabin. Brushing past Doltan, he left a parting shot.
"I won't forget today."
Once Mahal was gone, Wilmer clicked his tongue and followed.
The old man folded his arms and studied the first-class cabin with a grave face. A sailor coming along with a meal saw the two of them and hesitated. The old man waved him off.
"Stay out of the first-class cabin for the time being."
The sailor looked troubled.
"He told us not to skip his meals, and to bring them..."
"Do as I say."
The sailor seemed to know who he was. Pressed that hard, he offered no further protest and bowed his head.
The old man and the branch manager watched the cabin a moment longer, then moved to a quiet room. The bald old man, Abas, spoke.
"I think it really is the one in the first-class cabin."
The day after the ship sailed, dangerous mages had come to the port city of Header. The vice-guildmaster and the branch manager had been aboard and had not seen them in person; a communication orb brought word that the visitors were searching for someone. After the report they had checked the passengers on the off chance, and found no one a mage of the Chukhwan realm would bother hunting. They had relaxed. The stir from the first-class cabin was anything but ordinary.
Branch Manager Doltan met Vice-Guildmaster Abas's view with skepticism.
"It's true the man in first class is interesting. But he isn't anyone great enough for a tower's Chukhwan mages to track."
"He cleaned out the Fourth Transport Corps of the Senpo Trading Company. That's right, isn't it?"
"Yes. So it appears."
"And if what he took then was an enormous treasure? If that's why he's slipping into the Empire?"
"Put that way, it does hang together..."
"I'm right. He stole a treasure grand enough to set Chukhwan mages drooling."
"If your guess is true, Vice-Guildmaster, and the Chukhwan mages come after us—what do we do?"
A deep crease settled between Abas's brows.
"Well... what can we do."
Noon on the day after the ship carrying Chris set sail, a party of mages entered Header, the greatest port city of the Britan Kingdom.
Chukhwan mages from four magic towers had joined their strength, and they showed in action what the word calamity meant. They ignored the city's administration and its courts entirely and did exactly as they pleased, and no one could stop them. Even the lord could only fret and watch which way their mood turned. Had the king himself stood there, he could not have barred their path.
They tore through place after place—ten buildings reduced to ash along the way—and set foot on the docks as the sun went down.
Perez stroked the black foot.
"He left by ship."
Julien snapped, irritated.
"Little rat's wearing a lot of people out."
Stan shot back.
"If you hadn't spouted nonsense, this never would have gotten so snarled."
Julien was not about to lose.
"Those idiots, the Children of the Mask or whatever they call themselves, had their mask taken by that bastard, and that's how this mess started. You're the ones who caused it."
Daryl muttered.
"Not a wrong point."
"This happened because you ran your mouth," Stan said. "Don't try to hang it on us."
Shay stepped in to agree.
"Daryl, that mouth of yours is far too loose."
Daryl did not concede.
"Shay, you blabbed every bit as much."
Tower Master Hal of Mick Magic Tower cleared his throat.
"Fighting among ourselves won't settle anything. We need to give chase, and quickly."
He flicked a glance at William and went on.
"Get a ship. As fast as you can."
A vessel that had finished making ready and was just about to sail met with sudden disaster. They seized it without a coin of compensation, and then, on the pretext that the ship had to be lightened, committed the further outrage of throwing the cargo into the sea.
Chris let out a long breath and rose. He had no prosthetic, yet he stood straight and even. With his realm risen to Chukhwan, the foot that had been cut away had grown anew. He bounced in place, delighted, then turned his attention to his Klpandi.
Three days and nights of unbroken labor, and he had succeeded in weaving the ring. The form, regrettably, was faint. Mana had been lacking in both quantity and quality, and he had not been able to make it solid.
I have to firm the ring's foundation again. Find a place rich in mana... or else...
His fingers worried the necklace at his throat.
Sell this, and buy mana stones.
He could sell the magic safe instead of the necklace. The thought reminded him, and he took the safe out.
Match the mana pattern, it said.
He formed power around a core of wood-attribute mana and tried to match it. Combination after combination failed. The safe would not open.
I never should have joined that auction.
Had he still been holding the highest-grade mana stones, the ring would have taken a complete shape. He might even have gone a step further and raised a second ring.
A moment's choice decides a hundred years.
He spent about an hour combining mana patterns, then got up because the hunger was too much. Mages who breathed mana—high-realm mages in particular—did not eat as ordinary people did. At Chukhwan, one could starve for a month and be none the worse.
Chris was Chukhwan now, so a few days without food would do his body no harm. He simply liked eating too much. He had kept strictly to three meals a day, two bowls apiece, and the habit had set in until the hunger gnawed.
Why isn't anyone bringing food?
He had been so fixed on weaving the ring that he had no idea what had happened outside the cabin.
Chris stepped out and headed for the dining hall, where the meal was laid out in the manner of a buffet. There he caught sight of the Header branch's doorkeeper and its branch manager, and his brow tightened.
The branch manager beckoned him over. Chris heaped a plate and went to his side. Sitting down, he asked,
"You're going to the Empire?"
"I have something to report. Come to think of it, we never introduced ourselves. I'm Doltan."
Chris took the offered hand and shook it.
"I'm Gary."
Doltan dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.
"That's the name on the papers I made for you."
"From now on, I'm going to live as Gary."
The old man cut into the conversation.
"Then you can tell us the old name."
"I'd rather not. Are you going to the Empire as well?"
"That's where my home is."
Doltan spoke even lower than before.
"Don't do that anymore."
Chris tore into the meat and answered as if it hardly mattered.
"Don't do what?"
"I don't know what you were doing in that cabin, but work like that is best done where the security is perfect. What if someone had come at you?"
Weaving a ring where others could come and go at will was exceedingly dangerous, but Chris had no master and no senior to give him such counsel, and so he had done it. Doltan's words made him see it. His face set, and he nodded.
"Thank you for the advice."
"Don't mention it."
Doltan dabbed his lips with a napkin and added,
"Watch yourself around Mahal and Wilmer."
Chris's eyes narrowed, and his upper lip drew up until the space beneath his nose went short.
"First I've heard those names."
"While you were doing something in your cabin that would draw a mage's interest, the two of them tried to search the place."
The old man added,
"We broke a sweat stopping them."
Chris offered his thanks again.
"Thank you."
"If you're thankful, answer my question."
Chris nodded.
"If it's an answer I can give, gladly."
"What kind of trouble did you cause?"
Chris was firm.
"I caused no trouble."
"Then why are Chukhwan mages chasing you?"
He had a guess, but he put on a start.
"What are you talking about?"
"Here's my guess. You're carrying an enormous treasure. That's why high-ranking mages are after you."
"Who's after me?"
Abas held out his palm.
"The fee for that information is ten gold coins."
"I don't have the money."
Mana stones and gold coins alike, he had spent every last one at the auction house. All that remained in Chris's pockets was dust.