CHAPTER NINETEEN: LEAVING THRUNDANK

"Get your Grandfather's book?" Bristol asked once he had poled out from under the leaning tree. Fawkes and JuJu climbed aboard Boatessa.

"No," Fawkes snapped. "Some wizard poofed away with it."

"A wizard?!"

Fawkes picked up his pole.

"Yes. I think he hired them. I got there in time to watch the exchange and then he poofed off with it."

He started poling at a fast pace fueled by his frustration.

"So all this was a waste?" Bristol set his pole in the water and steered Boatessa before Fawkes poled them in the wrong direction.

"JuJu got his scent. I think there's a second wizard. This one was not of The Hand."

"You sure of that, boyyo?"

"He was all in black and masked, but there was no mark of The Hand."

"Hmmmph. If I were hirin' nisslin's to raid the Hand, I sure as hell wouldn't be wearin' their mark!"

Fawkes winced. Damnation, of course he wouldn't wear the mark! Grandfather always warned me that anger dulled the mind but did it have to be this much? He took a deep breath and slowed his poling.

"Bet it's our murderin' wizard."

"How do you figure that, Bristol?"

"Just how many wizards're in little old Blackstone? Bet he decided to take it for himself."

"I don't know. I still think it's another wizard."

"Think, boyyo! How many wizards could there be knowin' when the book's to be moved?"

"The buyer would —"

Bristol laughed, shaking his head. "Boyyo, lotta learnin' on thieves ahead of you yet. There's no other wizard hereabouts. Whoever paid the Hand to get it is sittin' in some fancy city waitin' fer a delivery."

Fawkes turned to stare at Bristol. The Hand did reach all over the kingdom and he had heard of them hiring rogue wizards now and again. "More like a rival, I think."

"And how'd he be hanging about Blackstone not getting found out by the Hand?" The old fisherman spat into the water. "That murderin' wizard wants it for himself and he can't just take it, not with the Hand havin' so many wizards."

Fawkes narrowed his eyes. "Why would they hire more for this job?"

Bristol heaved a weary sigh, rolling his eyes. "More thievin' and rogue ways you'd best be learning quick, boyyo. Rogue wizardin's as much a thing as thievin'."

"I know that, Bristol."

"Didn't know the two'd get hitched, did you?"

"Well, no." Rogue wizards forming a consortium within the Hand? Of course they would! After the destruction of the Gateways brought the end of the High Guild of Magic, consortiums were cropping up all over. And if there was one in The Hand, it certainly explained why this murdering wizard got greedy for the book. "And he tricked them into moving it."

"Naaa," Bristol spat. "No Hand would fall for that. They were probably movin' it for a meet."

"Why would they meet here? They were just keeping it hid until things settled down before making their delivery."

"Dear gods, boyyo," Bristol groaned. "They may be all over the kingdom but these Hands won't be leaving their domain. The rankin' Hands will be taking it to the buyer and Balsckstone Hands'll just get their pay for doing their part. They moved it to get ready for that meet which must be happening soon."

"And you think these, ah, ranking Hands will be coming with their own wizard."

"Got to when it's magic thievin'."

Fawkes nodded. And this other rogue wizard of the Hand who could verify the sack held the book.

"He can't use it yet!" Fawkes blurted out. He took a deeper, more calming breath. "He can't use it yet."

"What?"

"He doesn't dare use it or even keep it close to him. It'll take days for him to do a binding ritual just to use it. And if you're right about this meet being soon—"

"I am."

"There's no time for him to do that. Not with the threat of another wizard scrying for it. His ritual would shine like a beacon to another wizard. He has to hide it! Which means I can find it again. Steal it back while he is busy pretending to be a loyal Hand wizard."

"Well, now," Bristol said cheerfully. "We have a plan."

CHAPTER TWENTY: BACK IN BLACKSTONE

It was late evening when Fawkes rowed Boatessa up to the docks. Bristol moored the boat at her usual place next to Fawkes' keelboat. The old fisherman headed into town while Fawkes returned to the Gosling and took PeyPey for a walk. Keeping up appearances was exhausting, but so useful he had to do it no matter how tired he was. He needed the town watch and the Hand to be so used to seeing wandering about town at all hours that were to actually decide to do something suspicious, they would not suspect that was what he was doing.

As walks went, it was not as long as most but the two did wander a fair bit about the town. The two town watchmen he passed never slowed their eyes roving for trouble to look at him and PeyPey. They no longer see me. I'm no more remarkable that a tree or a hitching post to them no matter where in town they see me.

That was the only thought he spared away from what to do about Garzio. He had been so close! What could he do now? The thought and emotions rose and fell like waves crashing on a beach until he and PeyPey returned to the Gosling. There was only one thing he could do. Map scry for Garzio. Again.

But not tonight. He scooped Crumps and Jerky into bowls for himself and the dogs.. He smeared some apple butter on a biscuit then filled a mug with ale. Finally, he sat at his table in the cabin for a much-needed repast.

PeyPey and JuJu both let out low warning barks before Fawkes could take a bite or a swig.

Damn it! I just sat down.

Fawkes stepped out of the cabin, a hand to his dagger, to see what had bothered the dogs. A group of men, wearing black hoods and armbands with red hands stitched on them, were marching down the dock.

Wearing the mark of the Hand in broad daylight? What is going on?

The men were intently looking at Boatessa. It was the nearest fishing boat as most of those usually around the Gosling were still out fishing.

Was Bristol in trouble?

"JuJu to Boatessa!" Fawkes ordered and the dog bounded away. The fishing boat rocked at the sudden arrival of Juju but managed not to tip over.

"Git yer dog of'n that boat, less you want 'im dead," one of the Hand snapped at Fawkes.

"What, and let you steal an old man's fishing boat after killing his nephew in your murdering fire?" Fawkes snapped back then winced inside himself. I should not bait them but, damn it, I'm so tired of being careful.

PeyPey jumped onto the dock. His entire spine fur bristled as he let out a long snarl, revealing just how long and white his teeth were. JuJu joined him, bristling and snarling, too. Together, they blocked the way to the Gosling and Boatessa.

That's the better move, JuJu. Fawkes noted to himself. He would have to remember that.

The men stopped. Most of them had daggers. Two of them, including the one who had spoken, had swords.

"Yer about to lose yer curs." The same Hand warned again.

Fawkes snorted. I doubt those blades will do more than infuriate PeyPey and JuJu. They may bleed but the stone flesh beneath their tough hides was not like other flesh. It would take more than what these men could do to do serious harm.

"Not before they tear most of you to pieces. And for what? One well-used fishing boat?" He waved at Boatessa. "You all planning to take up fishing cause you're so bad at thieving?"

Someone laughed farther down past Boatessa. Three other fishermen, having just returned, stood on the dock. All three were holding turtling spears, heavy spears made for slamming through the shells of snapjaw turtles.

"Watch yer mouth, boy," the talkative Hand spat. He then looked over at the other low dock. A half-dozen hooded men headed down there where several fishing boats were moored. No one was at those boats. The bossy Hand grunted. Those with him put away their weapons and hurried over to join the others.

"Can't keep yer fancy keelboat forever, boy," the Hand warned. "Not in this town."

He, too, went to the other low dock.

Peypey and JuJu shook themselves, settling their spine fur back into place then jumped onto the Gosling. Fawkes looked at the three fishermen. One of them raised his spear in a salute and Fawkes nodded. They were brothers who worked the two boats they owned together. Gripping their spears, they turned to watch the Hand.

Fawkes kept on watching the thirteen Hands take all ten fishing boats tied up at that dock. It was not uncommon to take out someone's fishing boat as long as it was brought back before sunrise when most fishermen began their day.

"They ain't leaving a thing!" Putur, the youngest brother, all but yelped. When a boat was borrowed, it was tradition to leave something behind as a promise it would be returned. The Hand had left nothing. The boats went down the channel and around the first bend.

"That's thievin' not borrowing." Grugir, the older brother, snarled. "Putur, git to town and rowse the fellars. If'n them boats ain't back by mornin', it's war."