The Finest Backstab
He had already left the city behind and gone up into the mountains. The peaks rose higher, the ravines cut deeper, and at last the sun went down.
A Grand Master's body was not so frail that a full day of walking could make it plead fatigue, so the strain was not in his flesh. What grated on him was not knowing how much farther he still had to go. He wanted to smash the arrow floating over the gem.
In the end Chris stopped and made camp. There was little to prepare. His body endured cold and heat alike, and his hide was tough enough that a wild beast's teeth would not sink in. He could lie down and sleep anywhere he pleased.
A bed in a house with walls and a roof to break the wind, a blanket drawn up to his chin, would have been far more comfortable. Even so, sleeping on the ground in winter was not going to freeze him to death, and it was not going to ruin his face.
He stretched out on a fairly level patch with a stone for a pillow. The stars were thick overhead, and the wind was cold. Lying there, Chris turned the same questions over until sleep took him.
Is this really the wise thing to do? Is it sensible to entangle myself with a spy from some hidden power? Wouldn't it be better to throw the mask away even now and simply leave?
The lure of Ring Binding was too strong for that.
Back when he had stayed at Calmer Manor, his flesh had already reached a Grand Master's realm, and so his expectations for Thought Formulation and Seed Cultivation sat lower than those of other mages.
Even if I reach Thought Formulation, my magic won't change in any dramatic way.
That was what he had thought. The guess went astray, and it went astray in a welcome direction. After he entered Seed Cultivation, the change far outstripped anything he had expected.
Mana could be stored in the Thought Space. Set against the old method of tucking mana away in some corner of the body, everything had changed beyond comparison. Skipping Thought Formulation altogether seemed to have made the difference feel even sharper.
The greatest surprise was the Klpandi. Mana could be stored in the Klpandi as well, and it even helped him when he cast. Chris worked magic faster than before. The spells struck harder, he could sustain them far longer, and manifesting several at once had become possible.
He tried his magic and was moved. At last it seemed fit for a real fight.
I'm a true mage now.
Yet no matter how he strained, he could not produce power on Cyril's level.
Magic pieced together by solitary research, set beside magic honed into a system over long years by countless mages, was bound to come up short. The former was simply of poorer quality.
Even so, measured against what he had been, the progress was enormous.
And if he rose into the realm of Ring Binding, how much further would he go?
Having tasted magic, he wanted to climb higher.
Ring Binding. Ring Binding. Ring Binding. Ring Binding...
Chris turned the same word over in his mind until he fell asleep.
His eyes opened before the sun was up.
"Nngh."
He stretched, then loosened his body with the physical training he had learned at Calmer Manor. After that he ate the jerky and nuts he carried for the road, drew moisture from the air, and drank.
The arrow on the ring pointed north. Today he did not walk as he had yesterday. He ran. Rock, timber, and wiry grass barred the way; he vaulted them and went on.
Two days later, around the time the sun stood at its height, he finally reached his destination. The arrow on the ring changed into an exclamation mark.
Chris looked down at a camp pitched deep in the Landrik Mountain Range. It was larger than he had expected. About a hundred people had gathered and were eating, and one of them sensed a presence, lifted his head, and looked straight at him.
The face staring back made Chris start so hard he nearly jumped.
Scott!
The man was so far from anyone he had expected that for a while Chris stood frozen solid.
What is Scott doing here? He ought to be at Stan General Store.
He rolled his neck a couple of times to work the stiffness out, then went down toward the camp.
"Hoo."
He had the feeling something enormous was about to step into his path.
"Who the hell is that?"
A few with sharp senses spotted Chris and stood. As if they had agreed on it beforehand, they fixed him with hard stares.
One gripped a staff. Another gripped a sword. Someone held a crossbow.
Mages and ordinary men, mixed in even measure.
Chris raised both hands to show he meant no harm.
"Who are you?"
A mage in a gray robe spoke with an edge in his voice. Chris stopped and answered.
"A mercenary."
"How did you find this place?"
The mood was turning ugly when Scott stepped forward.
"I told you before. One more person was coming."
At that, the tension eased.
From the way Scott spoke and carried himself, Chris understood that the man Number One had called the one in charge was Scott himself.
Scott went on.
"This is Sid. He's skilled, so don't pick a fight with him lightly."
The hulking man with the crossbow snorted.
"Skilled is something we'll have to see."
Chris lowered his hands.
"I'm Sid."
He used the name Scott had just given him.
"And you?"
A few offered their names. A few ignored him and went back to their trays. Scott beckoned, and Chris sat down beside him.
"Sid. It's been a while."
With that, he gave a covert flick of the eyes.
Chris nodded the way one nods to a friend, and thought as he did.
Yes. It really has been a while.
But Scott did not recognize him. He was speaking to the spy he believed to be Cyril.
Chris recited inwardly the words he could not say aloud.
I never dreamed I would meet you here. Is Stan well?
Scott set soup and bread on a tray and held it out.
"You haven't eaten, have you?"
"No."
Chris took the tray and dipped the bread in the soup.
"It's good."
He tore the bread and ate, and his mind turned.
Does Stan know Scott is out doing this? What excuse did Scott give for leaving the store? How did he get tangled up with Number One?
A thought struck him then, and Chris went blank.
What if Stan knows what Scott is doing? What if the two of them are on the same side?
It hit him like a hammer to the skull.
Fuck. Number One is Stan!
Since Tom and Donna had driven a knife into his back, this was the finest backstab of them all.
Stan was a spy.
Now that he thought of it, the way Donna and Stan had cursed each other came back heavy with meaning. Each had guessed the other's identity. Each had sensed that the other was a spy planted in Mickclonia Magic Tower by a rival tower. He had wondered why they tore into each other so viciously. There had been a reason after all.
Chris's thoughts sank deeper.
What had Stan and Scott been trying to learn, hiding behind false identities?
The answer came at once.
Tom.
It had to be Tom.
Tom had learned something at Mickclonia Magic Tower. Or he had stolen something. To get it back, Mickclonia had locked him away. And Stan, hunting that same something, had opened a general store in Stratton Village.
Chris thought he knew what it was.
The ruins. Tom held the clue to the ruins said to contain the secret art of Ring Binding.
After Tom broke out of prison, Stan would have felt the change. Donna had vanished, and the elders of Mick Magic Tower had been thrashing about like madmen. There was no way he could have missed it. He would have tracked them after that, and at last the trail had brought him here.
Chris tried to reason out where Stan belonged.
Not Mickclonia Magic Tower, the one that had kept Tom in a cell. A man did not spy on himself. Not Laphunian Magic Tower either, where Tom and Donna belonged. Donna was already playing the spy well enough; there was no reason to send another. That left two powers.
The Grant Kingdom, and Hermann Magic Tower.
While he had been at Mick Magic Tower, Chris had met the prince and princess of the Grant Kingdom and the commander of its knights, and he had spoken with them. From that contact he had learned that the royal house kept a low posture toward the magic towers. Given the relationship between crown and tower, he did not think the royal house would take the reckless step of dispatching spies. Nor did he think mages of the Ring Binding realm and the Seed Cultivation realm would play spy on a royal command. Only a magic tower could employ mages of that caliber as agents.
So it's Hermann Magic Tower.
But when he tried to settle the matter—to decide the spy network belonged to Hermann—something snagged. Cyril had done his spying in the Albar Kingdom, and Number Three and Number Four could meet without arousing suspicion.
A Seed Cultivation mage who could openly seek out a royal court mage, Number Four, on a battlefield and not be doubted would have to belong to Tuleno Magic Tower. In the Grant Kingdom the three great towers competed, but in the Albar Kingdom there was only Tuleno. So Number Three belonged to Tuleno Magic Tower.
Tuleno Magic Tower had nothing to yield to Hermann. It was more than capable of building and running a spy network of this scale.
Hermann and Tuleno. One of the two.
Chris thought harder and concluded it was Hermann's side. If Tuleno Magic Tower owned the network, it would never have sent Number Three to him.
That Number One, the head of the spies, had been dispatched to Mick Magic Tower was only natural. The mission's purpose was to find the clue to the ruins. Number Four, Cyril, had been sent to the Albar Kingdom, and Number Three to Tuleno Magic Tower. Then where were Number Two and Number Five working in the dark?
The first possibility that rose to mind was Laphunian Magic Tower.
They would have sent one to Laphunian. Tom, the man holding the clue, is a mage of Laphunian Tower. They would have expected a reaction out of Laphunian once he came out of prison.
Even without that reason, a rival was cause enough to watch. Reasons to spare were piled high.
And the other one—under whose banner was he disguised? The Grant Kingdom?
That could be.
And if not?
Right. They might have sent one more into Mickclonia. Mickclonia Magic Tower is what matters. Slipping one person inside is the rational move. Stan directing the whole operation from the outside, one man working in secret within Mick Magic Tower, and Scott running the errands.
Chris wiped the last of the soup from the tray with his bread, ate, and looked at Scott.
Could Scott be Number Two, or Number Five?
No. When they had spoken through the masks before, Number Two and Number Five had wanted to come here. Scott, already present, would have had no reason to wish to come.
Is Scott Stan's disciple? Then is Scott a mage as well?
He wore no mage's robe and carried no staff. He had only set two axes beside him, the sort a woodcutter might use. Even so, he seemed like a mage.
Chris wanted to try the realm-sensing Number One had used on him, but he did not know the method, so he could not.
I need to learn magic properly. Isn't there a way into a magic tower?
It doesn't have to be Mick Magic Tower.
Chris let out a sigh.
It won't work, will it.
When the meal was done, a hunched, shrunken old man gathered the trays and set to washing them.
Scott spoke.
"Sid. Come with me a moment."
At first Chris did not know who was being called. He had changed aliases too often. Timothy, then Cyril, and now Sid—he caught on half a beat late and stood.
The two of them strolled with their hands clasped behind their backs, as if they were merely walking off a meal. Drawing on the way he had conversed through the mask, Chris addressed him in secret.
What are you doing here?
Scott did not answer. He simply walked on in silence.
At Stan General Store he had been talkative, easy, and full of fellow feeling. Here he was stiff, severe, and sparing with words, and a dangerous air clung to him as well. He seemed to be doing it on purpose, to keep the camp's mages and mercenaries firmly in line.
He looks far more like a spy than I do. Stan trained him well.
Once they were well away from the camp, Scott spoke.
"We'll talk here."
What do you need me to do?
"I can't use Thought Language."
Chris muttered inwardly.
Ah. So this is what they call Thought Language.
He was glad to have learned something new.
Number One didn't teach you?
"My level still isn't..."
From the exchange, Chris understood.
Right. He is Stan's disciple. Thought Formulation realm.
So a Thought Formulation mage can't use Thought Language.