Roadblock

  There was a roadblock ahead. Negli sent Imke to investigate while he waited in front of the roadside tavern, holding the reins of their two horses. Nearby, a small group of drunks and locals discussed the roadblock. Some claimed the soldiers were hunting a dangerous vampire. Others insisted the goldsmiths' guild had been robbed.

  The border post between the Magistrate of Bizenki's holdings and Vemer territory was rarely busy. It served more as a rest stop for caravans than a military checkpoint. But today, guards were inspecting everyone who tried to pass. A full caravan was being searched wagon by wagon, each one let through only after thorough scrutiny. After speaking with the caravanners, Imke returned.

  "They're arresting every man with golden eyes," he whispered. "The merchant's aide has them — and they won't let him go."

  They stabled the horses and entered the tavern. Negli pulled his hood low. They found a table in the corner and ordered food and ale. The tavern had been almost full when they arrived; within half an hour, it was crowded and noisy.

  "What do we do?" Imke asked, scraping up the last of his food.

  "How much money do you have?"

  "Six silver."

  Too little. The bounty on Negli was probably thirty.

  "Is there a village nearby?"

  "Yes."

  "Go there. Ask for directions — maybe there's an unguarded crossing. Hint that you're looking to hire a guide."

  "And if they give me up?"

  "Play stupid. Besides, your eyes are gray, they'll let you go."

  Imke shrugged. "I'll try."

  Negli didn't like it himself, but his only other idea was to turn back. It was probably the smartest thing to do, yet the freedom was so close.

  "Hire us a room. I'll wait for you there."

  But there were no rooms left. Negli stayed in the corner while Imke left for the village. Why had the guards been alerted so quickly? The answer was obvious — his escape had been discovered early. Had the doll malfunctioned? He now saw how flawed his plan had been — too complex, with too many parts that could fail. And yet — he was so close. Just a hundred paces from freedom. He sat for over an hour, not touching his ale, listening to the chatter.

  "Would you mind if I join you, my lord? All the other seats are taken, you see."

  The voice came from just behind his ear. Negli didn't look up.

  "Forgive me, but the seat is taken. I'm waiting for a friend."

  "Then let me be your friend, for a little while. I'm sure that as fellow scholars, we have much in common."

  The words "fellow scholars" made Negli look up. Before him stood a man in an old-fashioned warlock's robe — well-worn and faded, borderline indecent for formal occasions. He was a little shorter than Negli, with lilac northern hair and gray eyes behind round eyeglasses. How does he know I'm a scholar? Negli's surprise must have shown, because the man smiled and tapped his empty ring finger. Negli glanced down. He was still wearing his warlock ring — a foolish, careless mistake.

  "Have a seat," Negli said, quickly removing the ring and slipping it into his pocket.

  "Thank you."

  The man placed his stew and ale on the table and sat.

  "Ah, rest at last! I see you're traveling incognito — something I can relate to. Alas, at present I have nothing to hide. Arcanist Igni, at your service. Well — ex-Arcanist, technically."

  He fanned his ringless fingers.

  "Orli," said Negli.

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  "A pleasure, Orli. So, you've had a falling out with your... superiors. A fascinating choice — so few dare to defy... the organisation."

  Negli looked at him, sipping his ale, trying to understand what the strange man wanted — and considering what to do in case of danger. Should he cast fireball and escape in the confusion?

  "You defied them too?" he asked.

  "Yes, though only half-heartedly. I'm sure your exit was much more... fiery than mine," Igni said. "You see, I gave up the ring but kept the robes. I still believe in the sanctity of knowledge. What I defied was the hierarchy — the bureaucracy, you might say."

  He chewed a mouthful, nodding as if he'd said something terribly profound.

  "What was wrong with the bureaucracy?" Negli asked.

  "Owh, fwe uwual," Igni said through a full mouth. "They wouldn't let me do my thing — only theirs. I research dreams, you see. A rare subject."

  "Never heard of it. Does it fall under divination? Prophetic dreams?"

  "No. I mean, all dreams are prophetic to an extent, but I study a specific kind — the dreams of other lives. Sometimes, a person dreams of another life, repeatedly, often living it in parallel. That's what I study. If you ever meet someone like that, write to me. Or perhaps you already have?"

  "Perhaps," Negli said. "But what good is studying dreams? Aren't they just phantoms of imagination?"

  Igni's smile faded. He shrugged.

  "What good is studying anything? Take history for instance. We study its mistakes, but repeat them all the same."

  He set his spoon in the empty bowl and downed his ale in two long gulps.

  "But I'm done now, dear Orli. I'll be on my way. If you're headed south, perhaps we could travel together?"

  "Sadly, I must stay."

  Igni studied him a moment longer, then snapped his fingers.

  "It's your eyes, isn't it?" he said in a low voice. "That's why they're rounding up those poor sods at the checkpoint. Golden-eyed, are you?"

  Negli glared at him. Clearly someone had to teach this man manners. Igni seemed to realize he'd said too much. He raised a placating hand, then removed his glasses. His eyes weren't gray at all — they were bright gold. Same, or even brighter than Negli's.

  "Take these, as a gift," Igni said, handing him the glasses. "Incidentally, these are proof that dreams aren't useless."

  Negli took the glasses and put them on. The world changed subtly. The colors shifted — not drastically, but as though some hues had been filtered out while others remained.

  It wasn't just yellow — the effect was more complex. The inanimate objects remained almost the same, but the eyes of other elves in the room faded. Blues, purples, and greens were all gone — replaced with grays and browns. Igni's eyes also looked grey through the lense. Negli stared at him in disbelief.

  "Master?" Imke's voice came from behind.

  He stood beside the table, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

  "I see your friend has arrived," Igni said. "I'll be off, then. If you ever meet a dreamer, please contact me."

  He rose and made his way toward the door, weaving through the crowd. Negli looked Imke in the eyes. He blinked, surprised, but didn't say anything.

  "Let's go outside," Negli said, rising.

  At the stables, they spoke in hushed voices. Imke's mission bore no fruit. Negli decided to risk the soldiers' inspection. Imke shrugged. They mounted up and rode toward the checkpoint. The guards were busy inspecting another caravan. A dozen travelers waited behind it. Negli paid the merchant to sit on his wagon, cutting the line. When their wagon was inspected, a soldier waved a bright lamp in their faces, then checked the boxes. He was visibly tired after hours of fruitless searches. Then, at last, they were ushered through the border. They reclaimed their horses from a merchant and rode on.

  Arisa's Chase

  Arisa and her team of three Blackguards galloped south. They changed horses twice, each time leaving the animals half-dead at a station. It was getting dark when they reached the border post. The guard captain met them with visible relief and led them to a group of four arrested men. All had golden eyes of varying intensity. A thrill shot through her when she saw a man wearing a warlock's uniform, but when he turned, she saw it wasn't Negli. She felt foolish for even thinking he might be wearing a uniform.

  "Hoping for someone else, Inquisitor?" the man asked with a wry smile.

  She glared at him but didn't answer.

  "These people can go," she said to the captain. "We brought a portrait of the suspect for your men to look at."

  The guards gathered around to examine Negli's portrait and agreed that no one like him had passed through.

  "Keep stopping yellow-eyed men. Captain, are there any other crossings nearby?"

  "Not that I know of," the captain replied. "But locals use skis and sleds to travel off-road."

  They discussed the possibility for a while, and although Arisa decided it was unlikely, she still sent a guard to inquire in the village.

  "Have you noticed anyone approaching the checkpoint and then turning back?" she asked.

  None of the guards could recall such a thing.

  "We've done hundreds of checks today. We didn't have time to watch the road," the captain added.

  Arisa stationed two guards at the tavern entrance to check everyone entering and exiting. Before rounding up those already inside, she decided to speak to the keeper. She showed him the portrait and asked if he'd seen anyone with yellow eyes that day. He examined it with interest.

  "A warlock?" he said, recognizing the uniform in the portrait. "I've got a bad memory for faces, but there were two men with bright golden eyes sitting right there, talking. One was dressed like a warlock, only in old, worn garb. The other wore a hood pulled low — I only saw his eyes once."

  "When did they leave?"

  "Half an hour ago, maybe."

  Arisa ran outside to find the captain.

  "There was a warlock among the detained. Did he leave already?"

  "He took his horse and crossed the border."

  She turned to her Blackguards.

  "We're riding after him. I suspect he helped the fugitive cross. You — stay here, report everything, and wait for our return. You two — with me."

  The three of them crossed the border and continued south.