The Orb of Wrath (The Merchant's Destiny Book 1) (13 page)

“There they serve the best roast the city,” said Ithelas, pointing to a tavern as they passed a square. “Also, they have pretty good wine for a reasonable price.”

“Maybe we could go another day; or later if we have time,” Mithir nodded.

The cleric wasn't sure, but in any case, it was clear that now was not the time to stop.

Not much later they were in front of Beromort's house. They left the horses at the door where a boy, who worked for the wise man, would care for them for a silver coin. It was a steal for such a simple service, but the famous wise men had these services. Somehow, it helped to select the people who came to their door, and prevent some chutzpah with no money making them waste their time.

They entered the building and went up the stairs to the first floor. There was a small and comfortable room where they would wait to be called. As they had arrived quite early, there was no one waiting. They did not know, either, if there was someone in the next room with the wise man; but they knew that if they dared to interrupt to check they could be thrown rudely, without getting any response. So they patiently waited. The wise men were like this. Although some were friendlier than others.

After a short wait, Beromort appeared at the doorway. He wore a long green robe that covered his ankles. The marked circles under his eyelids denoted fatigue. A long goatee hanged strangely from his chin. The rest of his face and head were perfectly shaved. His black, searching, bright eyes carefully watched the two young customers, assessing the situation.

“Follow me,” said the wise man to the two of them, as he turned toward the next room.

They entered a huge room that must occupy the rest of the upper floor. The room was a chaotic mix of a lab, a library, office and warehouse, all in one area without defined divisions. It was very bright because of the big windows it had. All of them overlooked the courtyard that was behind the building. The wall, which was facing the street, had no more than a tiny skylight at the top. It was obvious that Beromort liked his privacy.

The area of the room that corresponded to a library, occupied the entire bottom. Huge shelves stretched from wall to wall and from the floor to the ceiling, with multiple shelves full to the brim with books of all colors and sizes. It was amazing to think how he had managed to store so many books in such a relatively small space. The area on the right, after crossing the door, had several tables with stills, funnels, test tubes and glass containers. One of the tables had what looked like sand or powders of various types stored in many jars. Most of the containers were covered in dust, and Mithir realized that the laboratory wasn't used frequently.

In the central area of the room, there were a couple of desks full of papers with a big chair behind them in which Beromort sat. He instructed them to take a seat on a bench opposite him.

“So? Tell me,” he said, after watching his two visitors carefully for a few seconds.

“Beromort, we are delighted that you met with us,” Ithelas began.

The wise man indicated for them to continue.

“This is Mithir, a friend. I think he visited you in the past, and has told me many times how impressed he was with your wisdom, which does not surprise me,” continued the cleric.

Appealing to the vanity of a wise man was a pretty old trick. But in practice it worked many more times than it was a mistake.

“What we want to ask you is... a little unusual. It is also urgent; we need the information you can provide us today, preferably this morning. We want you to tell us everything you know about vampires,” Ithelas unceremoniously said.

Beromort raised an eyebrow, indicating some surprise. It was obvious he didn't receive many inquiries like this.

“Indeed, it is not a usual request. Why the urgency, if I may ask?” asked the wise man.

“We must start a mission shortly, and there is a chance that we might have to meet this danger, although we'll avoid it if possible. I think we don't need to go into more details,” said the cleric.

“I see,” Beromort said thoughtfully.

The wise man got up and asked them not to touch anything. He walked to the back of the room, and he reviewed and consulted several books. He returned a little later with a book bound in leather; it was obvious that it had been used a lot, and then he sat back in his chair. Mithir and Ithelas waited impatiently.

“The first thing I must clarify, though you probably already know, is that this is not my area of interest and, therefore, I don't have all the answers you seek,” said the wise man as he looked at them seriously.

“We know. But we were hoping you could help us anyways,” said the cleric, pleadingly.

“You're looking for, among other things, detailed information on how to recognize, how to protect yourself from a vampire and, maybe even, how to kill them. You can't get these answers from me, if you have got so little time,” Beromort said with great shrewdness. “Another thing is if you had made this request with a little more foresight,” added the wise man with a disapproving tone.

The two young men decided to say nothing and wait for the wise man to tell them what he knew.

“Vampires are extremely dangerous. And surely the best thing you can do for your own good is to avoid them at all costs. In the past they had become real pests. Some say that a vampire plague almost collapsed, centuries ago, the empire of the Duchies Carition, despite all its resources.”

The wise man paused and began looking for something in the leather notebook. While leafing through the pages, he continued with the lecture.

“They form a part of the family of the undead. That is, they were once some kind of humanoid (dwarf, medium, gnome, human, elf, etc.). The subject in question never died, but became a vampire. This has to happen by a process that another vampire starts. Vampires aren't created by spontaneous generation. They also say that the undead retain the memories of their previous lives.”

Beromort stopped at one of the pages of the notebook and turned to look at them.

“There are no kind vampires. They are all the servants of evil. Therefore, most religions consider them enemies, but only a few have had the opportunity or need to combat them. For example, we haven't had any news of vampires in the kingdom of Bor for many years, even centuries. Moreover, the religions that pursue evil, the Darken worshipers, consider the vampires their allies. I heard that some religion worships vampires as minor gods, but I haven't verified this.”

Mithir and Ithelas looked at each other. All this information was useful, but they didn't believe that it would be good enough to solve their basic problem.

“There's a man in Ekunon. He's called Aspulax. He is one of the librarians at the General Library of the city. I remember that I spoke to him once. In any case, you must go to him. I don't know where he lives, so ask for him in the library. Someone told me that Aspulax came years ago from a remote country and he used to be a cleric of an Order from which we have no news of. Aspulax's Order has faced vampires at various times in its history. Unfortunately, I can't remember the name of that order. Surely this man can give you more answers,” Beromort said as he stood up.

The two young men understood that they must stand up too, and they did. The wise man led them the door with a nod and then sat down to return to his papers. They went out the door of the room and down to the lower floor.

“Come in here,” said a voice from the next room the instant they finished descending the stairs.

The small room had a table with an elderly official who moved multiple papers back and forth. After a while he stopped and looked at them.

“The fees for the wise man today will be fifty gold coins,” he told them, pointing to a box that was in the corner of the table.

Mithir pulled a bag from his pocket, counted the coins and placed them where he had indicated. Then the two young men left the building. The rate was the standard appropriate for a simple and brief consultation. They actually paid much less than they had thought would be necessary; but, on the other hand, the information obtained was also very limited. Normally a wise man established a priori how much the service would cost and how long it would take. Furthermore, it was common they would ask for half in advance before beginning the investigation. When Ithelas saw that Beromort was beginning to give some details about vampires, without a pre-established fee, immediately he thought that they would probably not get much information. Either that or the wise man was very generous, which hadn't been the case in all the time he had known him.

It was mid-morning, and the sun seemed not to warm up at all. They took back their horses and, after greeting the young man who watched them, they departed. Ekunon was known for its library and Engineering School. These constituted not only two major poles of knowledge but also the economic activity in the city. Most of the cities of the Kingdom did not have a library. This was a privilege usually reserved for large cities like this. Still, only a few had such facilities. In both places you could find and buy rare books. In fact, this was one of the products that the city exported to other places.

The magician and the cleric, full of expectation, rode the gentle jog through the streets of the city. It was the maximum speed allowed without being reprimanded, or even fined, by the militia. Soon they reached their destination. The General Library was in the Ekunon Central Square, opposite the residence of the Mayor, and was one of the notable buildings in the city. Some people visited it just to admire the architecture. The main facade was completely carved in stone, mounted on richly carved huge blocks. Front pillars divided the facade into sections, and they were topped by enormous gargoyles, which appeared to support the roof of the building with its claws. They entered.

“... I ... speak here,” Ithelas thought he understood the magician say.

The young cleric was surprised but said nothing. How could Mithir take the lead there being dumb?

After passing the main lobby, Mithir motioned for him to follow. Rather than going straight to enter the main room of the library, the young magician turned to the right by one of the service corridors and began to walk quickly through a labyrinthine building area that Ithelas had never visited. After three turns, Ithelas already felt lost and didn't feel capable of getting out of there easily on his own. Mithir opened a door and started down the stairs leading to the basement. The cleric, who had been often in the library of the city where he lived, didn't even know that the building had a basement. On reaching the lower level, Ithelas followed the magician through another corridor and then, after two more turns, came to a door that the magician knocked on.

“Come in,” said a voice from inside.

They entered the small room. It was the office of a copyist, whose mission was to create new copies of already written books. It was a craft, slow and laborious; and the main reason why the books, even the most basic ones, were relatively expensive.

“Mithir, I'm so happy to see you!” said the man, who immediately began to make multiple gestures.

Ithelas realized that he asked the magician how he was doing, and then told him some things about the library, which he could not understand. Mithir responded with gestures and then introduced Ithelas. The man got up to shake his hand.

“Mithir's friends are my friends. What's your name, young cleric of the Order of Light?” said the copyist suddenly.

It was obvious that Mithir could say a lot of things with just a few gestures.

“Ithelas. Nice to meet you. And yours?” asked the cleric.

“Ingucius. I am one of the permanent copyists of this library,” said the man.

“Yes, I can see you working. We regret the disruption,” Ithelas apologized.

“Not at all! I am always happy to talk to Mithir.”

Ingucius told them to sit down. After a few gestures from Mithir, the copyist began to verbalize everything the young magician said, facilitating the dialogue among the three of them. Mithir explained in very general terms the risks of the mission that they faced and then their meeting this morning with the wise man Beromort. When he finished the story, Ingucius was thoughtful for a moment and then asked them to wait there. A while later, the man returned with a heavy volume and placed it on the table.

“Well, the bad news is that Aspulax hasn’t worked here for several months now. He said goodbye and returned to his country. I knew him, though I did not talk to him much. The truth is that I don't even remember what country he was from. Here, in the library, many people work, as you can imagine,” explained the copyist with a tone of concern.

“Oh, what luck!” Ithelas cried, while Mithir made a gesture a put his hands on his head.

After briefly glancing and looking at the huge tome, Ingucius continued.

“The good news is that, as we are a disciplined library, we document everything. Everything! Also, our employees' records. Here it is! Aspulax's file. Before continuing let's see... I must tell you that the information of the people working here is confidential. So, I will just tell you only that which may be relevant to what you seek, and only in deference to Mithir. In addition, you must promise not to repeat to anyone what I'm going to tell you,” warned the copyist.

“Of course!” answered the two young men at the same time.

After perusing the file, Ingucius got up and told them: