Arcanum Part 47

Felix felt his whole body flood with the gentle heat of relief. "Can I see her?"

"Perhaps afterwards. She accepted your apology, barely, and her moods are mercurial." Buber smile hardened. "If we don't take Eckhardt by surprise, none of us are going to get a second chance."

"Master Thaler is going to ask one of his men to act as a spy," said Felix, and the smile flickered back.

"Master Thaler now, is it? But a spy's a good idea, if we can get away with it. Who's he chosen?"

"That man there. Mr Ullmann."

Thaler and Ullmann stood momentarily at the front desk before being directed further towards the prince, Thaler steering the young usher like a barge, with a hand on his shoulder all the way. Perhaps he thought Ullmann would bolt.

"Peter," said Thaler. "I thought you'd..."

"And good afternoon to you, Master Librarian."

Thaler stepped forward, and before Buber could skip away, he was encircled by stout arms and thick-fingered hands. "Thank you for saving my library."

Buber, flailing, eventually patted Thaler's round back. "It wouldn't have been right to let it burn. It's an important place, Frederik. It's all we have now."

"Yes it is, and it shames me that I wasn't here to help." He showed no sign of letting go.

"We did what we did, and that's the end of it." Buber peeled the librarian off. "Introduce me to your colleague."

"This is Mr Ullmann." Ullmann found himself propelled forward. "Huntmaster Buber."

"Max Ullmann, at your service, sir. My lord," he added for Felix's benefit.

"Do you understand what we want you to do?" asked Felix.

Ullmann screwed his face up, trying to remember. "You want me to cross the river, make my way to where Master Eckhardt is, find out who else is there and how he's protected, then come back and report to you."

Buber leant on a bookshelf. "You missed the part where you don't get caught."

Ullmann cleared his throat and looked at his boots. "And don't get caught."

"I'd go," said Buber. "But most people know my face." He rubbed ruefully at the latest scar on his cheek.

"I'd go myself," said Thaler. "I am, however, sadly aware of my limitations."

"While any one of us would go," said Felix, "Fate seems to have cast you in this role, Mr Ullmann. Are you up to the task?"

"Yes, my lord. I'll do my very best for you." He reached up and tugged at his hair. "I'll come back with what you need to know."

"Talk to Master Buber about the best way to get close, and the best way to get back." Felix saw the boy in the man. Ullmann was only a few years older than him. G.o.ds only knew if he'd make it to the end of the day, let alone to his next birthday. He pulled out his dagger and presented it, grip-first, to the usher.

Ullmann slowly took the grip, and stared at the mirrored surface of the blade. "My lord, I'm ... honoured."

"Not as honoured as I am, Mr Ullmann. Take it, and use it as you need."

47.

Buber took Ullmann to meet Nikoleta in the boathouse. And why not? The main house seemed deserted, and perhaps it was: the family who lived there would have been at Gerhard's funeral, and probably their servants too. Anyone left behind would be eating their way through the larder and drinking the master's wine cellar rather than daring to find out why no one had come home.

It was as safe as anywhere, and out of sight. Sophia's warning about the Jews' reaction to Nikoleta's existence held true, and they had enough problems to cope with already without adding the prospect of driving the only militia they had into revolt.

Ullmann reminded him of a baby deer, all arms, legs and curiosity, and magnificently innocent.

Nikoleta sat cross-legged on the edge of the walkway, having positioned herself so that she could see the base of Goat Mountain through the boathouse's river entrance. Only when he sat down next to her did he realise she could also see up as far as the White Tower.

"Who's the boy?" she asked, glancing up.

"This is Max Ullmann, one of the library ushers."

Ullmann abruptly grasped that he wasn't being introduced to just anyone. She might not be wearing a long white robe, but the tattoos on her arms, neck and legs gave her away.

"Master Buber? I thought..."

"Yes. Not a word to anyone else. This is Mistress Nikoleta Agana, the last surviving hexmaster who can still do magic."

Nikoleta got her feet underneath her and stood, holding on to Buber for support. Her hand stayed on his shoulder as she examined the usher.

"And what role do you have to play, Ullmann?"

"I'm ... I'm a spy. I think. Master Buber, does the prince know about this?"

Buber looked up. "He wants the mistress to kill Eckhardt, having judged that we mundanes aren't up to the task. He's probably right. There aren't enough of us, and one hexmaster's plenty."

"I have to get close to him first, Ullmann. Do you understand why?"

Ullmann met Nikoleta's gaze. "Because you might only get one chance, and you need to make it count."

"He's not stupid, Peter. We could do a lot worse." Nikoleta nodded. "You're not invisible to magic like a hunter is, yet your aura doesn't radiate like a Jew. An ordinary, decent pagan, am I right?"

"Very ordinary, Mistress."

"It's not an insult, Ullmann. Ordinary means you won't stand out. Ordinary means you might make it back. I need specific information regarding Eckhardt not just how he's guarded, or who's guarding him, especially if there's an Italian sword-master hanging around him but what he does and how he acts. That means you have to get yourself into a position where you can observe these things without anyone suspecting you." She pushed her hand back through her curls. "Do you know what'll happen to you if anyone guesses what you're there for?"

"They'll kill me?"

"Only if you're lucky. I don't know much about necromancy and precisely how Eckhardt takes a life and turns it into raw magic, but the little I do know tells me that it's very likely to hurt. A lot." She flashed him a smile. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

Ullmann swallowed hard. "Yes, Mistress."

"Right. Now listen. He doesn't know I'm coming for him. He doesn't even know I exist. When I do come for him, what he'll feel is a big knot of untamed fire getting closer. I need him alone, if possible, not because my power is weak, or that I have scruples about killing any number of mundanes, but because ... why don't you finish that thought, Mr Ullmann?"

"Because while you're dealing with others apart from Master Eckhardt, what will he be doing?"

"I'm genuinely impressed. All my concentration needs to be on Eckhardt: he's been a hexmaster for longer than I've been alive, and he'll know all kinds of nuances that I don't. The first contact between us is the most important. If I'm still alive after that, I can grind him down: his magic will eventually fail, whereas mine won't." She walked around Ullmann. "Get me my chance, and I'll do the rest."

"I'll row you across the river and come with you as far as I can." Buber stood up to untie the waiting boat. "I'll bring you back, too."

Ullmann nodded. His mouth had gone dry and rendered him speechless.

Buber scratched at his chin.

"No one is forcing you to do this, and no one's going to think any less of you if you decide that it isn't for you. Even after I've rowed you over and you've got out, you can still run in the opposite direction."

Despite being drained of colour, Ullmann clambered unsteadily into the rowing boat, and waited.

"You're a brave man, Max." Buber turned to Nikoleta. "I don't know when we'll be back. Go up to the house and see if there's any food left, but try not to be seen."

She grabbed him by the collar and dragged his head down to meet hers. "I'm not an idiot, Peter."

"There are too many things that can go wrong. I should see if I can pick Eckhardt off with my bow, or slip a knife between his ribs."

"No you don't." Her breath was hot in his face.

"He won't hear or see me coming."

"Peter, no. He can do things you can't imagine possible. I won't take that risk."

He tried to take a step back, but she had him off-balance. "You can't tell me what to do," he said.

"But I can beg you not to do it, and know that you'll listen to me." She finished with a hard kiss, savage and tearing.

He came away with blood on his lips and pressed what were left of his fingertips against them to ease the soreness and sourness away. She walked out of the boathouse, and Buber climbed down into the boat opposite Ullmann.

He reached forward and closed the usher's mouth for him. "It's her way of telling me not to get involved in a magicians' duel." He slipped the rope off its iron ring and pushed at one of the jetty's piles.

The boat drifted out and into the river. Ullmann was still staring at Buber.

"Look, lad. She's ... she's not from round here." He tried to think of the best way of explaining it to Ullmann. Her foreignness would excuse much. "They do things differently in the empire. And then she was closeted away with the Order for years. They did things differently there, too."

He turned the boat and pointed the prow upstream, where he could keep an eye on the town. Ullmann twisted in his seat so that he could see as well.

"Where do you think Master Eckhardt will be?" he asked, finally recovering his voice.

"Difficult to say. He could be up at the White Tower. That's what he's used to, and Nikoleta tells me that hexmasters stick to their routines. On the other hand, that's not where he showed himself last night: he came all the way down to the novices' house, so he may be there. That would make more sense than having folk traipse up and down the mountain."

"So I should start at the novices' house?"

"If you think like that, you're going to get yourself killed. You start as soon as we land." Buber pulled hard on the oars. The boat was midstream, and exposed to anyone who might look their way. "Remember that. One slip-up and it might be over."

Ullmann was suddenly apologetic, which annoyed Buber.

"I'm serious. I can't say I've had much experience with sneaking around people, but I've had plenty crawling on my belly like a worm as I come up the windward side of some beast or other. I'll get you as close as I can without us having to break cover, and we'll decide what's best then. Unnecessary risks in any job are stupid. And you're not stupid, are you Mr Ullmann?"

The usher pursed his lips, then agreed. "No, Master Buber. I know I'm not."

A few feet later, they were covered by the overhanging branches of some riverside willows. "So tell me, Mr Ullmann: why didn't you become a librarian?"

"Because I ran away from my father's farm and my earl, Master."

The boat b.u.mped against the soft earth, and Buber reached out to hold the bank. "I see. I don't think that'll be a problem now, though."

Ullmann grabbed at a thick root, and held it tight while Buber levered himself up onto the bank using the painter. In turn, he held the boat still while Ullmann pushed himself on his elbows into the long gra.s.s. When he was out of the way, Buber continued to heave, and manhandled the boat in between two trees, where he rolled it over.

"You think serfs should be free to leave their land?" said Ullmann.

"I think people should be free to go wherever they want." He kicked the bottom of the boat, which gave a hollow boom. "Life, Mr Ullmann, is short, and I can't honestly say whether anything we do here makes a difference one way or another."

"Saving the library like you did, though. That has to count."

"And tomorrow, some mad f.u.c.ker could break in and burn it down. And now that the only lights in the library are lanterns, it could happen by accident. Then, all those men I killed, all the skulls the librarians cracked: what would it have been for? So yes, roam where you want and take opportunity where you can." Buber reached over his back for his crossbow. "There'll always be plenty of other things to worry about."

He led the way towards the road that ran along the north bank, and crouched in the undergrowth at its side. It seemed strange to have someone with him: uncomfortable, even. He was so used to working alone, but that was going to have to change, considering the promises he'd made to Nikoleta.

"From now on, don't talk unless I say so. Don't move unless I say so." He glanced around. "And lose the robe. Just bundle it up and throw it behind you. Should have thought of that before."

Ullmann shrugged off his loose-fitting usher's robe and disposed of it as Buber had said.

"Ready?" asked the huntmaster.

"Yes."

"Did I say you could talk?" Buber gave a sly smile. "Did I?"

"No, Master."

"Then don't." He checked the road again, and darted across its rutted stone surface to the far side. He ducked down once more and listened carefully. All he could hear to start with was Ullmann's over-excited breathing, but, after a moment, he managed to blank it out and pick out sounds from beyond.

He could hear the river. He could hear the wind in the trees. He could hear something else, too: a murmur, soft and distant. He frowned. He didn't like it because he didn't know what it meant.

Between them and the novices' house was the flank of Goat Mountain. He knew that, halfway up, was the adepts' house, and knew also, from Thaler's report, that it was full of bodies and detritus. Perhaps the best way to proceed would be to climb up, and then descend on the novices' house from above. People naturally avoided heights if there was an easier option, and he'd expect most of those who'd gone over to Eckhardt to be down on the lower slopes.

They moved off, uphill. To Buber's trained senses, it felt like Ullmann was deliberately trying to attract attention by snagging his clothing on every briar, stamping on every dry twig and clattering against every low-hanging branch. It was almost exactly like torture. No matter how fast or how slow he went, the usher banged from trunk to trunk like a drunkard.

But then, gradually, the noises diminished. By the time they'd found the path up to the White Tower, there was a noticeable difference, and as they descended, the effect wasn't perfect, but it was certainly pa.s.sable. He raised his hand and crouched down. There was barely a whisper as Ullmann squatted beside him, looking impossibly young and smooth-skinned.

Buber listened again. The murmuring was still audible, louder but remaining indistinct. Then, as he was about to indicate they should move on, the tone of the sound changed. It grew angrier, more urgent. There were distinct shouts and cries, before it settled down again.