"A wanted criminal!" Sala ("Sal" to her friends) exclaimed in surprise when she finally received an answer to her increasingly strident questions concerning what the ruckus involving her home and her paying guest was all about.
"A suspect," Galf said, trying to be fair, "one who's looking more and more suspicious all the time. There's questions about a break-in and theft in Zema that need to be answered."
"Well, never let it be said that Sala Holcomb doesn't cooperate in bringing criminals to justice."
"We appreciate it, ma'am, and I apologize for brushing past you before, when I first went charging in. Do you mind if we have a look through this fellow's stuff?"
Sal snorted and planted her fists on her broad hips.
"For all I care, you can throw it into the sea. I'll not be having it in my house!" She shot the now-trussed prisoner a look of utter contempt.
"Why don't you go and bring it out, Alys, so this good woman can be rid of his memory?"
Such was an apprentice's job, to handle the fetch-and-carry.
"What did he call himself?" Alys asked Sal as the villager showed her to the guest room.
"Derek Keith."
"Probably made-up, but it's at least better than calling him 'hey, you' all the way back to Zema."
The guest room was plain and simple. Alys picked up one travel pack, loaded and ready to go, as well as a black cloak, then made a quick search of the room in case Derek had cached anything. She doubted he had, since the ability to make a quick exit would be his highest priority, but she made the check anyway, figuring it was better to be thorough than wrong. As expected, nothing turned up, so she rejoined Galf. He'd bound the prisoner's wrists and kept Derek seated on the hard-packed earth.
"Is that it?"
"Our boy travels light."
"So I see. Let's have a look."
Alys set down the pack and opened it up.
"Water flask, dried meat, dried fruit--Galf, he must be guilty; a man who likes cactus rind is twisted enough to do anything."
"Don't try to be funny," replied Galf, who was quite fond of them as a snack. "What else is in there?"
"A compass, a change of clothes, a dose of poison antidote, a dose of monomate. Nothing exciting there. A couple of freaky metal-banded gloves." She tossed them on the stack. "That's it--except, of course, for whatever we find in the false bottom."
Thieves' tools could be expensive, so those that were reusable wouldn't be just thrown away after a job. It wasn't cost-effective, and men like Derek were past masters of the meseta value. Still, he couldn't carry his apparatus on his person, in case he was stopped and questioned by the occasionally draconian representatives of the local law, who took a dim view of a person carrying lockpicks and other devices of that ilk even if they didn't have any specific crime to suspect him of committing.
Not having any reason to figure out which ties and flaps went where, Alys sidestepped the whole process by simply cutting the hidden compartment open. Inside she found a small leather packet of lockpicks, an unusual device which had a titanium-tipped cutting chisel attached to a suction cup by a ball joint, a ceramic vial containing some kind of liquid, a four-inch blowpipe with a folded cloth packet containing wooden darts, and a pouch that like the gloves was covered in metal strips. This last item contained some round, hard object. Alys looked back and forth from the stack to the weapons Galf had found on the prisoner--a collapsible climbing pole, the two knives he'd fought with, another boot dagger, and a small blade concealed in his belt--and commented dryly, "Nice toys."
"You have to respect a man who comes prepared."
"I don't." Sometimes she found Galf's ironic sense of humor a bit trying. "Any idea what these are for?" she asked, holding up the gauntlets. "Clunky armored gloves really don't go with the whole stealth-and-subtlety routine."
"Care to make yourself useful and fill us in?" Galf asked Derek. The only answer he received was a glower. "Didn't think so. Toss one here, will you, Alys?"
He caught the glove neatly and began to glance it over, while Alys did the same to the other one. There was an odd greenish sheen to the metal, noticeable even in twilight, but she didn't know what, if anything, that meant.
Luckily, she wasn't the only Hunter on the case.
"Got it. The plating is zirconium."
"I don't recognize the reference."
"It's an anti-heat metal that was used in the old days, as in the pre-Great Collapse old days. I think its principal source was Parma, so we don't see it so much any more. Kinda hard to carry on full-scale mining operations once the planet blows up."
"Anti-heat metal? Isn't that kind of a contradiction in terms? I thought metal conducted heat very well." A little scientific knowledge could be a dangerous thing.
"Not this stuff. It's supposed to take forever to heat up. Just the thing for a shield when taking on a fire-breathing dragon, not that there are any left. Now, if you're asking me why that is, you'll be waiting a long time for an answer. Chemistry ain't precisely my strong suit."
"I don't think it really matters."
"Probably not. What's more important is that a pair of anti-heat gloves could be quite useful to a guy going around setting off fireblasts."
"Yeah, it could. And hey, this pouch, is it covered with the same stuff?" She picked it up and tossed it over.
"Looks like it, and that would be what we in the hunter business refer to as a clue."
He slipped his hand into one of the zirc-gaunts, then scowled as it got stuck.
"Blast it; my hand's too big, and metal gloves don't have a lot of give to them. You'll have to do it, Alys."
He gave her back the gauntlets and pouch. Putting on the heat resistant gear, she opened the pouch and drew out a single glowing jewel between her first two fingers and thumb. The gem was the right size to match up with the one missing from Cross's weapons-case, although Alys was fairly sure it hadn't glowed a radiant orange or cast off heat in palpable waves when it had been a part of their client's collection. If she'd tried to hold it without the gloves, she'd have burnt her fingers. How long, she thought, did it take to heat up the pouch, despite its zirconium lining inside and out? Did Derek have to remove the gem every so often to let the container cool? She put it back away and stripped off the gauntlets.
"Well, that clinches the theft case, at least." Galf turned to Derek. "Now, I think, it's time for you to fill in some answers. I want to know what your game is and who you're playing it for."
"I bet you would," chuckled the thief. "I'd like a few hundred thousand meseta and a retirement home in Termi, but I'm not likely to get those, either."
"If I was in your place, friend, I wouldn't take that tone."
"Oh, please. I'd think that someone skilled enough to catch me would be able to deduce that as a professional I would hardly reveal the name of my client."
Galf managed to pack more derision into his snort than Alys would have believed possible.
"Spare me. Just spare me the code of honor drek, would you? I can barely stomach it from priests and healers and people who actually have holy and noble callings. You, on the other hand, are a criminal who makes a living taking that do not belong to you and selling them to other people. Maybe you're good at it and maybe you take some pride in that, but honor? Professional standards? The ethics of a master craftsman towards his art? That's a load of crawler dung and you know it, you greedy pustule on society's rump."
Alys had never known Galf could be so...expressive.
"Besides," she contributed, "it's not like we don't already know what happened. We're really more interested in the who."
"Y-you can't," Derek blustered. "You couldn't possibly know. No one could."
Alys and Galf shared a look of pity for the ignorant.
"Do you want to tell him?"
"Nah, you go ahead, Alys. Maybe it'll loosen him up if it comes from you."
It looked like it was time for another round of test-the-apprentice. Still, Alys was ready for this one.
Unfortunately, she never got the chance.
The newcomer arrived as if out of nowhere, which was a nice trick for someone wearing a bright white mantle even in the gathering twilight.
"So, I've finally caught up with you," the man snapped, instantly commanding everyone's attention. His voice had the ring of authority to it, not the faintly blustering kind of someone trying to demand respect or of an actor playing a king on the stage but the assurance of someone whose orders had been obeyed in the past and who expected them to be obeyed in the future. Three heads swiveled in the voice's direction.
"What the--?" was Alys's brilliant comment.
"Surrender now, and I'll be lenient with you."
The stranger, Alys decided, was one of those people who looked like they'd have an attitude. He was easily as tall as Galf, perhaps even taller, but very slender; his hair was light blue, pulled back into a ponytail that he wore forward across one shoulder, and he had a handsome face of the almost-pretty kind that probably got him beat up a lot when he was a little kid. In about three years or so he'd have the kind of pristine, ageless beauty that a fair number of women would kill for, but he looked to now be around nineteen or so, and the arrogance of youth was still in his face. Kind of like Bain, Alys thought, only prettier.
"I don't know who you think you are," she shot back, "but if you think we're just going to whatever the heck you say for no good reason then you're as dumb as your dialogue."
"Easy does it, Alys," Galf cautioned her. To the stranger he called out, "Hey, how about we--"
The stranger, though, wasn't any more interested in talk than Alys was. He thrust his right hand out in a commanding, if slightly theatrical gesture.
"Hewn!" he cried, interrupting Galf.
Two swirling microbursts of wind spun themselves out of the air, striking the torsos of the two hunters with enough impact to knock them sprawling. The pouch with the stolen jewel slipped from between Alys's fingers as she hit the ground.
The stranger pointed and again employed a technique that Alys had neither seen nor heard of before then.
"Flaeli!"
A stream of flame arced out from his finger and sliced through the cord around Derek's wrists with a minute precision that Alys knew from practice was a lot harder to achieve than it looked. The stranger not only knew fancy techniques that had unusual or varying effects, but he was actually good at using them, an entirely different matter.
She'd never fought a tech-user before; although her training had anticipated the possibility there was a world of difference between the practice ground and actual combat. Still, she remembered the first lesson right away, which was to keep moving. Against an enemy with ranged attacks, a stationary fighter was a dead fighter. Alys rolled to her feet, yanked out her slashers, and snapped the blades open. To her left, Galf had also regained his feet and drawn his sword. Alys hurled both slashers at once and followed them in, charging the stranger.
The tech-user displayed better combat reflexes than his demeanor and appearance had suggested by jumping back out of the way of one slasher and quickly snapping up a sturdy wood cane to deflect the second. Alys caught the first slasher in mid-charge but let the other go because the parry had knocked its trajectory too far off to recover.
She was almost on top of the blue-haired man by then; dealing with the slashers had occupied her opponent for long enough that he couldn't gather his energies for a powerful technique. Quick and simple, though, appeared to be part of his repertoire because he brought his hand up to guide another tech. Alys caught the word on his lips and threw herself flat immediately.
"WAT!"
It was lucky she had dived, for the chilling blast the tech-user had called up sang just over her head to dissipate harmlessly in the evening air. Prone at the man's feet like a groveling supplicant, Alys spun on her belly in the dust, using her feet like a whip to hook the stranger's ankle and pull his legs out from under him.
As the blue-haired man fell, Galf dropped his sword (no doubt working on the dead-men-tell-no-tales principle) and sprang. One big hand closed over the stranger's mouth to stifle any more techniques while the other locked on his wrist in a crushing grip. The tech-user, though, displayed a quick reaction time and ruthless perception that was surprising in someone who did his principal fighting with mystic power. He kneed Galf in the groin and jerked free.
Ignoring the pain, the hunter crashed his forearm into the tech-user's face, knocking him back to the ground.
The fight was interrupted by a roaring crackle in the air, a sound like rolling thunder, only softer, closer at hand, and more enduring. Alys, Galf, and the blue-haired stranger all put their immediate concerns aside and turned to look.
As might be expected, once freed Derek had taken action, but surprisingly that action had not been to run away. Instead he had donned the gauntlets and, from the orange glow that made a nimbus around his right fist, had recovered the gem. His attitude was almost prayerful: head bowed, eyes closed, glowing hand pressed to his heart. Tiny surges of energy, sparkling bolts of azure and crimson fire, cracked and discharged in the area around the thief, creating the strange noise.
"Damn," muttered the stranger. "I had it all backward."
Before any of the others could react, Derek's eyes snapped open, revealing pools of glowing orange light. He thrust his fist skyward and screamed defiantly.
"NEIRYUKA!"
The outline of Derek's body shimmered and vanished, and in his wake a thunderous explosion ripped through the area, once more sending Alys, Galf, and the tech-user sprawling.
Groggily, Alys got to her feet, holding her aching head.
"What in the name of all that's sacred was that?" Galf groaned, pulling himself back together.
"That," snapped the blue-haired man, "was why you should stay out of things that don't concern you." He seemed less affected by the blast than the hunters, no surprise given its mystic origin and his evident affinity with techniques.
"Which reminds me," Alys growled. "We have some unfinished business."
The stranger quickly held up his hand, palm out in what looked like a pacifying gesture--though of course it could also be the precursor to fiery death.
"I admit that I jumped in too quickly. I saw you holding the crystal and assumed that you were the ones who had used it."
"So you attacked us and freed the real villain of the piece because you got the sides reversed?" Galf verified.
"That's right," the stranger admitted, brushing some of the dust off before recovering his cane. "That's what happens, though, when you meddle in affairs that are not your concern."
"We're being paid for this particular meddling; we're hunters from the Guild."
"Hunters?" the tech-user snorted. "Go fight mini worms then; that's more your kind of work."
"The way I see it," Alys snapped back, her temper flaring, "we were the ones who'd captured Derek, until you showed up, set him free, and gave him back that crystal of his."
He snarled right back at her.
"Keep your noses out of this," he repeated. "This is far beyond your petty Hunter's Guild problems. Dangerous forces are at work here, and I can't do what I need to do with unexpected obstacles interrupting me." He spun on his heel, his mantle swirling around him, and stalked off down the beach into the gathering darkness.
"He called us," Alys noted, "unexpected obstacles."
"Nice exit, though."
"Why don't we go after him? He obviously knows much more about this than we do."
"Picking fights with powerful tech-users is a good way to get your family squabbling over the terms of your will."
Alys expressed her opinion in terms appropriate to their sailors' village location, but of course Galf was right, especially if he felt as sore and battered as she did after the explosion.
"That doesn't mean we're quitting, does it?"
"Of course not. Just that we're not going to bother making that clear to our hotheaded friend. Yet."
Despite everything that happened, Alys couldn't help but grin.
"Yet," she agreed.