A Weapon Too Free

Interlude

Wuqiong had made the attic room workspace his own. Recreating the Guild records from the remaining documents was laborious, where it was even possible, but it was work he could find enjoyment in. It exercised just enough of his intellect to prevent him getting either bored or tired. It had been a very long time since he had been able to get stuck into paperwork in peace. The Guild had also allowed him unfettered access to its archives, kept in storage in a small house nearby, to assist his efforts.

It was an ideal situation from which to pursue his own research. Or at least, it would have been, if the Vellanixhal records had contained any information about mysterious orichalcum weapons. He thought wistfully of his apprenticeship, in a majestic city he was pretty sure no-one in his current town of residence had heard of, transcribing and critiquing standard texts. If he hadn't been assigned works by the Sage of the Lake, Øydís Naess, his life would have taken an entirely different course.

He was in the process of copying from a ledger of disciplinary notices, one that included full name, species and Classes, that he could cross-reference with quest records which lacked the information. The original records had been lamentably organised, he could see. He might actually leave the Guild's books in better shape than they had been before the theft. He worked by candle-light. The window had been bricked up, the better to keep out any future miscreants.

He supposed it would also offer some protection against the next assassin, when they arrived.

"As regular as the turning of the seasons," he muttered under his breath as he turned a page.

"What is?"

He hadn't heard Guild Agent Mannosett come in. He coughed to cover his embarrassment.

"No matter," she said. "I've brought you what we could recover from the ruins of the inn."

She dropped cloth-wrapped package on the table. When she opened it up, he saw a ravaged stack of papers interspersed with scraps of leather covers.

Wuqiong regarded the heap owlishly.

"I'm not sure there's a word for the condition of these books. This is beyond 'foxed'. Or perhaps there is, but it is one unsuited to polite company."

He poked at them.

"Is that mould?"

"I'm afraid it is," Mannosett said, severely. "It appears to have grown very quickly in the damp conditions."

"Damp conditions?"

"From the water we used to put out the fires."

"The fires?"

"The lamps had just had their oil replenished when the incident happened. Not all of them were extinguished in the collapse."

Wuqiong sighed.

Mannosett waved a hand dismissively. "I don't expect there to be a single readable page but I felt I should at least give you the chance to examine it."

The pile sat there, leaking.

"I will take a look, at least. When you go downstairs, could you arrange for someone to bring me up a bucket of dry sand? It should help draw out the moisture."

He had been so distracted by his work, and by the damaged records, that something had nearly escaped his notice.

"There's a reason why you came in person, instead of sending a lackey. What is it?"

Mannosett smiled.

"I've given considerable thought to why Vasyl might have stolen the records. In the course of my investigation I learned he had had a number of regular visitors, both before and after the Suss. Naturally, that suggests that he may not have been working alone. I pursued a sneak thief through the town on more than one occasion. The thief was fast, agile and comfortable with mêlée combat, completely unlike how Vasyl fought in the inn."

Wuqiong stayed silent. He didn't want to say anything that might accidentally implicate Piktadarys.

"We can't rule out the possibility that the accomplice will strike again. I have taken steps to store the crucial records at a secret location, but you are owed a personal warning."

"I understand. And thank you."

"You may want to consider moving on. I can arrange some misdirection for you."

"I had been considering travelling to Skyhammer."

He believed that the ancient capital was the likeliest place to find information on orichalcum weapons.

"So had I. If you are prepared to wait here a little longer, you can travel with my convoy. Probably the best protection you could get."

"I believe I shall take you up on your offer."

Mannosett's guards would be an excellent deterrent to assassins, he knew.

She gave a curt nod and left him to his papers. The candle danced in the draft of the closing door and a dribble of wax ran down the side of the empty potion bottle it was standing in. The wax ran across Wuqiong's reflection. His mental picture of himself was the man he had been... before all the unpleasantness. The face that stared back at him from the dark glass was a very different person, and not just from the distortion of the bottle. He had been roughened by day after day on the road and night after night lying awake in anticipation of the next assassin. Youthful optimism had been stabbed out of him and the wound had scarred over as dogged fatalism.

He had almost no memory of being that younger self. He found grim amusement in the idea that someone who'd spent years dedicated to researching the differences between man and monster was now clearly neither.