Chapter 1 Part 7

Tyson rode into the outskirts of Allentown late one cloudy afternoon. His trip to the metropolis had been uneasy at times. He had been treated with respect as he traveled through the lands governed by House Blackheart, but that quickly changed when he passed into lands held by other nobles. The respect had changed to suspicion in many places and even outright hatred in others.

He had actually had to kill a trio of off duty soldiers at one point. They were half drunk and eager to fight. The tensions between the Blackheart clan and the kingdom militia was so thick that anyone claiming allegiance to Serpent Blackheart was subject to being lynched.

Tyson had defended himself from their onslaught and then quickly vacated the village. Afterwards, he removed all signs of his loyalties and disguised himself as a pilgrim. His past as a monk enabled him to do this easily. The rest of the trip had been rather uneventful.

Allentown proper was an architectural stroke of symmetry. The University occupied the center of the city. Its towers were made of marble and were polished to a smooth glassy likeness. The great Archives was an expanse of buildings covering hundreds of acres of land. It was said that a copy of every manuscript that existed was kept within its walls.

Away from the University, like spokes on a wheel, cobblestone avenues radiated outward for several miles. Here were the shops and business that had made Allentown the commercial center of the world. The various alleys and circular concentric streets led to residential sections and parks of finely manicured flora. The houses were of high quality and maintained small gardens and servants quarters. These were the scholar's and city government's dwellings. The city was actually ruled by a noble, but the real power was in the hands of the Council of Commerce, a collection of economists and merchants.whose purpose was to maximize the city's marketability.

Beyond the upper class dwellings the city began to look more common. Taverns and a mixture of businesses of lower standings, smithies and stables along with the residences of the merchants and businessmen of the inner city, made up that part of the town.

An old wall separated this part of Allentown from the bazaar of booths and tents that made up the outer city. Rumor had it that if anything could be bought it would be in Allentown. The outer city was a carnival of peddlers selling anything from eternal life to true love. Naturally most of it was phony but from the unwary or gullible a fortune could be made.

Tyson actually liked Allentown. He had been there once before, when he and Armegon had passed through on the way to the Well of Time. He could still see the fury on Armegon's face when he had discovered Tyson had tricked him. Tyson had enjoyed that. Armegon had always been too arrogant anyway. But that act had committed him to this world. He could never go back now even if he wanted to.

Tyson stopped at a few displays on the way into town. Some of the items were interesting, but not useful to him. He did stop long enough to question one proprietor about a set of colored quartz crystals that vibrated without shattering making some pleasing sounds that had a soothing effect on the mind. Tyson haggled for a few moments until the proprietor came down drastically on the price. This suggested to Tyson that this too was some kind of scheme and that the crystals were probably powerless outside their display case.

Eventually Tyson found himself approaching the inner city. He checked into the first inn he came to, bathed and bought a large meal. By sunset he was refreshed and sitting at a table in the common room. He enjoyed a few tall mugs of ale and the company of a traveler from the far west who was journeying to the capital city of Keron. The traveler was from the city of Haganaw near the western sea beyond the Glass Desert and the Rift across thousands of leagues of grassland and rolling hills.

Tyson was interested in his companion's tale for it spoke of parts of the world he was unfamiliar with. Up until that moment Tyson had been to many parts of the northeastern territory where the major populations were centered. There were several large cities deep in the south near the great swamplands and the western coast was a principal of several cities ruled by the brother of King Rigel.

Tyson spent most of the early evening listening to his companion talk of prairie bandits and packs of wild dogs. The story ended with the traveler vowing to return to the west by the northern ice line regardless of the cost. It was at this point when Tyson decided to turn in for the night.

The next morning Tyson had a quick breakfast and then made his way to the University. His admission into the Archives was challenged by the Faculty Magistrate, but his affiliation with House Blackheart--though met with disgust--earned him passage into the hallowed halls. Apparently the University maintained a position of neutrality in the political arena and thereby assured its survival against whatever winds of change may blow over its towers.

Tyson spent an hour searching through the Archives until he found the material he was looking for. The book had not been opened it seemed for years and some of the pages had stuck together. He skimmed through the book and stopped at an article. "Ether divergence and dimensional gradients," he read aloud. Setting the book on a table, he drew up a stool and began reading the text.

After a moment he stopped and opened his pack. He withdrew parchment, ink and quills. Setting them aside he cast a quick spell and dipped one silver tipped quill into the ink. The quill jumped from his hand and landed on the parchment. Tyson turned back to the text and began to read aloud. As he read, the quill copied his words precisely.

Tyson spent the next two hours reading and dictating footnotes to his magic pen until he had extracted as much information as possible from that particular book. He then instructed the quill to stop and the pen immediately lay down flat on the counter top next to the paper.

"That’s a pretty handy spell there," a voice said.

Tyson turned around. A woman of perhaps forty years old wearing a black robe with light green trim was standing there holding several books across her chest. She had light brown hair with a rusty tint to it that fell across one shoulder in long strands. Though her robe covered her body, it was easily discernible that she was not overweight and about six feet tall. She had pale skin and large green eyes and thin lips on a triangular face. Not very beautiful, perhaps but she could probably change that with a little makeup.

"I’m sorry I startled you," she told Tyson, "but your voice was disturbing my reading and I was going to ask you to hold it down until I saw your little magic act. I didn't want to interrupt."

"That’s of no concern," Tyson said after a moment. "Would you like to join me?"

"I think I can spare a moment," she said. "My name’s Mestys. And you?"

"Tyson." Tyson rose and extended a hand. "Are you a mage?"

"No," she said accepting the gesture. "I’m a warlock." Tyson was caught off guard and frowned slightly before he could catch himself. Mestys did not miss the slip. "I take it you’ve dealt with warlocks before?"

"Only one," he informed her. "A fellow named Morteous."

"Blackheart," she finished. "Yes, I know him." She smiled. "Don't worry we’re not all that bad."

"Have you fought him," Tyson asked.

"You misunderstand," she informed him. "Warlocks do not fight other warlocks. We’re all of one body in our magic. I may not agree with Morteous' political views, but that has very little to do with magic."

She sat in a chair on the other side of the table. "Your magic, I must say has a very strange sensation about it."

"I haven't been practicing here very long," Tyson said warily. He was not certain how to take this person.

"I see," she said. "What’re you studying?"

"Ether divergence," he told her.

"That is pretty deep stuff for a beginner, isn't it?"

"I learn fast."

"Of that I have no doubt." Mestys paused. "Would you like to dine with me tonight? I know someone who has been studying the same subject recently and I think you two should meet." She smiled. "I know he’d like to meet you."

"I wouldn’t want to intrude into any relationship of yours," Tyson offered.

"Oh it’s purely a business acquaintance." She lowered her voice as if to keep others from hearing even though they were alone. "I’m helping him research a new magic flux form that could make him the most powerful mage in the world."

Tyson was genuinely interested. "Well I suppose I could take the time to meet this person," he said at last.

"Fine," she said. "We’ll be at the guild informal dining hall at sunset." She rose from her seat. "Don't be late."

Tyson watched the woman go. Totally puzzled, he tapped a finger on the closed book he had been working on. They were total strangers and he had told her that he was a novice at magic. Why then did she want to include him in some local mage's research project?

Tyson cleared his workspace and gathered his belongings. He returned the book to its place on the shelf and then exited the building. The weather was misty and cool as Tyson stepped out into the middle afternoon. He made his way back to his room stopping only long enough to pick up a new outfit. He chose a pair of gray hose and black soft leather boots. A white tunic and black doublet finished the look.

Back at the tavern, he ordered up a bath and was soon standing before a mirror checking his new attire. The House Blackheart medallion shimmered evilly as it lay against the black background and Tyson decided it would be better to wear the talisman beneath his tunic since it was so disliked in these parts.

As the first sun set through a cloud break on the distant horizon Tyson walked down the street to the Guild of the Arts. When he approached the door, a young man wearing an official uniform halted him and asked for his guild number. Tyson knew that he was not a member of the guild, and simply told the man that he had been asked to meet someone for dinner.

"May I have the name of your host then," the doorman asked.

"Her name is Mestys," Tyson replied.
The doorman referenced a book that Tyson assumed was a guest list of some kind. After a moment, the doorman smiled. "Your name, sir?"

"Tyson."

"Ah, yes, master. Please pass and be welcome. Your host is in the cafeteria."

Tyson entered the guild halls. The building was large with high ceilings and marble floors. Magic was a profitable profession and exclusive clubs like this could afford luxury. As Tyson took in the scenery, a butler offered to take his overcoat. Tyson relented the article and wandered aimlessly down the main gallery. There were portraits of great wizards, magicians, sorcerers, alchemists and many other magic using classes lining the corridors.

Tyson paused in front of a directory long enough to get his bearings and determine where the cafeteria was. Next to the directory was a set of double doors through which the sounds of applause drifted into the hall. The doors were closed, but Tyson could hear enough to learn that some kind of symposium on conjuration was taking place inside.

This place could be a veritable gold mine of knowledge and power. Tyson resolved that as soon as he was free of House Blackheart he would purchase a membership here and study some of the other forms of magic offered. Perhaps even he could become a warlock as well.

Tyson located the cafeteria quickly and immediately saw Mestys sitting alone at a corner table away from most of the occupants. He entered and casually made his way over to her table.

"Hello, Tyson," she said glancing up at his approach. "Please have a seat and join me."

"Thank you," Tyson saw no reason not to be polite.

"That’s a nice outfit," she commented. "Did you have any trouble finding the guild?"

"Not at all," he answered. "With the exception of the University and the duke's palace, this is one of the largest buildings in Allentown."

"I left your name at the door," she said. "I take it you had no difficulty in getting in?"

"None at all," he said, "thank you." Tyson sat at the table across from Mestys. "By the way," he said curiously, "how’d you know that I didn’t have a membership here?"

"Your name wasn’t on the roster," she informed him.

"I might’ve used an alias," he suggested.

Mestys smiled. "I was assured that you hadn't."

"Assured?" Tyson frowned. He casually thumbed one of the menus that lay on the tabletop. "Assured by whom?"

"By me," a voice said from over his shoulder. A voice he had known for decades. A voice he had thought was gone forever. A voice that meant he was in deep trouble.

"Keep your hands on the table and your mouth shut," the voice said coolly, "or you’ll be dead within a millisecond."

Mestys smiled at Tyson. "I take it you two know each other?"

"Indeed we do," Ultrecht said as he sat down next to Tyson. He held a thin wand with a bright red tip leveled at Tyson's chest. At that range there would be no missing and Tyson knew that a quick syllable from Ultrecht would unleash a blast of energy that would easily blow him apart.

"Well, Tyson," Ultrecht said. "I think you and I need to have a little talk. I’m most interested in hearing you explain your way out of this one."