Mira shifted in her armchair with Bandit in her lap in Whizzbang’s study, frustrated. Whizzbang, in contrast, calmly sipped his tea.

  “It’s been a week!” Mira exclaimed. “Dortham told the constables a week ago about the murder of Elle’s parents, and they’ve done nothing!”

  “Patience, Mira. I haven’t lived two hundred and eighty-seven years by blindly rushing into something or by making uninformed decisions. If you want to know what the results of that look like, visit Goldsprocket,” Whizzbang gently said. “What do you know about the incident?”

  “All Elle told us was that there were three of them, that they sold drugs, and that one got stabbed in the eye by Elle’s mom,” Mira recounted.

  “Not much to go on, is it?” Whizzbang said matter-of-factly.

  “I can find them, I know it. I know every street in this city.”

  “Your only clue belongs to a man who’s in hiding somewhere until his eye heals up, if he’s even still in the city. The constables know about his wound, and they’re looking for him. At least until their attention is turned to something else, that is,” Whizzbang said.

  “How long will that be?” Mira asked.

  “About two weeks, in my experience. If they haven’t found your man by then, they never will. The problem is that if the thug is smart, he won’t show his face for a month,” said Whizzbang with a thoughtful expression. “How is your progress with the spells I’ve been teaching you?” asked Whizzbang.

  “I mastered the spell for creating stationary illusions and making sounds a long time ago. I can create smells, clean things, change an item’s color briefly, and light candles. I’ve gotten pretty good at using that disguising spell, too. It’s already helped me a few times when following someone,” Mira said.

  “Very good, Mira. I think the next thing to teach you is what I call a Shadowmeld spell. It’ll give you the ability to blend into a shadow. It’s less than useful in full sunlight and in total darkness, but it’ll be very helpful in the future, I think.”

  “When’re you gonna teach me that fire spell you used to blow up the necromancer?” Mira asked. She tried not to let her evil grin show but was only partially successful.

  “You haven’t learned enough to even try that spell yet, young one. You’d blow yourself up for sure. Learning magic isn’t about memorizing a recipe. It’s about sensing and harnessing the magical forces around you, and very few people even have the ability to sense something magical. You’ve accomplished more than most young wizards five or ten years older than you. You’ve done well, and you can take solace in that.” Whizzbang paused to gather his thoughts. “There will come situations when you can’t use magic, and you’ll need to have more mundane skills. As an artificer I can provide a living for myself with a measure of peace, which I cannot do as a wizard. Also, as an artificer I know how to make things like locks, which brings me to my next set of lessons. Come.”

  Whizzbang led Mira to a cabinet that was full of locks. There were door locks, padlocks, and even a numeric combination lock in the shape of a cylinder. He chose a door lock and placed it on his workbench. He selected a little screwdriver from his vest and took out a few screws from the interior part of the handle. He then exposed the inner workings of the lock.

  “I have the feeling that we will be investigating Corinne’s murder ourselves. To prepare you for this, I have some things to teach you, and the sooner you learn things, the sooner we can investigate. What you see before you is an expensive lock that only the richest people in this town can buy. Most people bar their doors, and you can sometimes open them with a slim knife if all goes well. If you run into one of these locks, though, you need to know how to defeat it. To do that, you have to know what’s inside and how it works. Take this one for example…”

  -----

  Kromwell could hear the muffled sounds of his father conducting business in the study from where he lounged in the sitting room. The chaise lounge chair he reclined in was luxuriously made with velvet cloth and soft cushions. He idly traced the curves of the hand-carved, polished wooden frame as his thoughts went to dark places. The open book in his lap held no interest for him. In the armchair across from him, however, Raynold sat hunched over the Codex in his lap, single-mindedly absorbing its contents. Raynold often forgot to eat, he was so focused. Kromwell smiled. That just meant more of the sweets for him. He lazily reached over to the table between them and picked up the biggest candy from the platter there and plopped it into his plump mouth.

  His father’s guest exited the study and walked past the sitting room. The man dressed in dirty clothes, wore dirty boots, and even smelled like dirt as the air stirred in his passing. His father’s manservant seemed to take no notice of these things as he escorted the man out. Kromwell took another moment to evaluate Raynold, and he didn’t like what he saw. In the past year Raynold had only been able to read a small portion of the Codex, but it was a significant body of knowledge. Raynold was learning something of value, unlike the worthless observations of the philosopher who wrote ‘The History of Warcraft in Aldon’ which Kromwell had been tasked with reading.

  Kromwell snapped the book shut and took it with him as he walked out of the room to his father’s study. Raynold didn’t even notice him leave. Kromwell waited at the open door to the study for permission to enter. Sivash knew his son was standing there, of course. There was very little that happened around him that Sivash didn’t notice. He made his son wait anyway as he made a few notes on a piece of paper before him on the desk. He finally looked up.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Kromwell entered the study with a scowl on his face. “Why am I to read this collection of scribbles? This is a waste of time!” Kromwell threw the book to the ground. It lay in disarray near a wall of bookshelves. Realizing he may have overstepped, Kromwell immediately dropped his eyes. To his surprise, Sivash made no mention of the temper tantrum.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “What have you learned from that book?” he asked as he put his elbows on the desk and fingers in the shape of an “A” before him.

  “I learned the value of crushing your enemies and completely dominating them to keep them from future resistance, the value of public executions and even more painful deaths to keep the populace compliant, and the need to know one’s enemy before a conflict starts,” Kromwell summarized.

  “Very good. How do you wage war on a superior force?” Sivash asked.

  “By not attacking the superior force. You must attack the supply chain, your enemy’s assets or his settlements at times when his army’s not present. Create deception whenever possible, even pretending to be a trusted friend before you’re ready to strike.”

  “Good. Then you have learned what I wanted you to learn from that book.” Sivash stared at his son, patiently waiting.

  The frustration he had been feeling welled up inside him, and Kromwell could endure the silence for only a few moments before the words burst out of his mouth. “I don’t need this hogwash! I want to learn something that matters!” Kromwell was breathing heavily, his face red and his fists clenched.

  “Well, well,” Sivash said silkily. “It’s about time, son.” He actually wore a small but genuine smile.

  Kromwell was confused for a moment. He expected to be beaten for his insubordination, not praised. He was especially perplexed at being called “son.” His father didn’t call him that unless he was very pleased about something, and he had just damaged a rare book. Sivash took a key out of his vest pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. It was a drawer that Kromwell had never seen open before. Within the large drawer lay contents that Kromwell could not see, but Sivash reached below what sounded like books and withdrew a rather nondescript, leather-bound book that was the color of dried blood. He locked the drawer shut again, then got up from his chair.

  “Raynold!” Sivash shouted in a voice that could wake the dead. “Get in here at once!”

  Raynold scurried into the room within seconds and stood next to Kromwell. His eyes were red rimmed from the strain of deciphering the squirming script. Sivash walked out of the study with a negligent wave beckoning the boys to follow him. He walked to the stairway that led to the basement and walked down without bringing a lantern or lamp. Halfway down the steps he said something in a language that made Kromwell’s skin crawl and suddenly a red light dimly lit the area immediately around him. Kromwell’s mouth hung open in amazement. He had no idea his father could do something like that. Sivash led them into the small room, which happened to be a wine cellar. Casks and jars of foodstuffs lined the walls as well as the bottles of wine Sivash collected. The place smelled like death, attributable to the two dead rats that lay curled up on the stone floor next to a couple pieces of poisoned beef jerky.

  “I am going to trust you with something today,” Sivash said darkly, making an uncomfortable eye contact with both boys before proceeding. “You should be aware of how deadly serious I am when I say that not a word of this will leave this room. Should either of you fail me in this… Well, the consequences will be most severe.” He paused a long moment to let that settle deeply into their minds before continuing. “The man you saw leaving earlier is going to be doing some remodeling in our basement here. The entire place will be expanded to make room for a very special place. When completed, the three of us will be making something special, something that will give me the power I need to make this city my own.”

  “But you already rule the Council of Elders, father,” Kromwell said. Then he knew. His father wanted all of it. He would supplant the prince, probably even the king himself in time.

  Sivash nodded slowly and grimly as he watched the comprehension dawn on the two boys.

  “My hold on the Council has strengthened ever more over the years, particularly after Councilman Cooper understood who was really responsible for the death of his daughter in law and granddaughter. I am the true power in Stonekeep now. The prince has more men at arms, but I will build a force that will sweep away his pathetic militia and even his veteran troops, and you two will be a big part of that. Raynold, your mastery of the Codex of Death will be a cornerstone of my plan. Have you mastered enough of the Codex to grant unlife to a human body?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Raynold said in a high-pitched and slightly raspy voice. He saw Sivash’s face darken and hurried to add, “But that’s only because the Codex teaches things that I cannot practice in your home.”

  All three knew very well that the practice of necromancy was forbidden exactly the same way that Mordonian sorcery was. To practice such malevolent magic carried a death sentence when discovered.

  “As soon as this cellar is remodeled, you can practice as much as you want without fear of discovery. It will be thoroughly soundproofed and will have the proper ventilation. You will tell me everything you need to practice the craft, and I will provide it to you. This is a safe haven, understand?” Sivash said as he laid a gentle hand on Raynold’s bony shoulder.

  “Yes, sir. Safe. I’m learning quickly, Lord Surekeel. Watch this.”

  Raynold turned to the two dead rats and began to chant in a whispery language different from the guttural language Sivash used earlier. Both languages seemed to Kromwell to evoke power despite their different origins. Raynold gestured with his hands as he chanted, and a greenish light gathered very dimly around his right hand. At the finale, Raynold pointed at the rats, and the greenish light leapt from his hand to the closest rat. The green light moved into its body and settled in the rat’s eyes. Tiny snapping sounds were heard as the corpse uncurled itself and rolled to its feet.

  “I meant to animate both of them,” Raynold admitted glumly.

  Sivash smiled, however. “That was a great first attempt, my son. I think, with my help, you are destined for great things.”

  Raynold smiled thinly and thrust out his chest in pride. Kromwell tensed, however, his fists clenched. Sivash noted his son’s posture and raised the red book he’d been holding higher, getting Kromwell’s attention.

  “This is the true family business, son, and today you have shown me you are ready to raise yourself above the rest. In the time I have available, I will be teaching you the language of the ancient ones and how to harness their power.”

  Kromwell’s eyes lit up at hearing this, and he adopted a calculating smile.

  Sivash spoke very precisely and forcefully normally, but now even more so. “We will be the inner circle of what is built here in the years to come. The changes we make in this city will be slow in coming at first, but they will be permanent changes nonetheless. For the time being, you will master the teaching before each of you, and we will speak of this to no one else. Not even your parents or the other boys you run with. You especially will not speak of any of our plans or what you learn to any weak-willed woman to impress her with your prowess, no matter how much you want to, or you will feel my wrath. Do you both understand this?”

  “Yes, sir,” both boys dutifully replied.

  “I say this because I was your age once, and I remember the temptation to either impress the ladies or make my rivals fear me, and that would be a monumental mistake that would reveal that which I plan to accomplish. The prince has spies, and he would not tolerate our activities.” After letting that settle into their minds firmly, Sivash handed the bloody book to Kromwell. “This book is never to be carried outside of this house. It will also be hidden at all times from the servants, even your mother. Understand?”

  “Yes, father,” Kromwell said. This was the happiest day Kromwell could remember, and his thoughts were plain on his face. He couldn’t wait to begin this new phase of his life. Finally, he would gain the strength to take what he wanted.