Return of the Runebound Professor

Janice stepped out of a swirling purple portal and into a graveyard. The portal snapped shut behind her. She shot a glance over her shoulder, a flicker of irritation through her mind. It never reached her features, which remained perfectly restrained.

Couldn’t he have left the portal open so I could go back through it instead of having to spend a bunch of gold convincing one of Dawnforge’s mages to send me back to the Linwick Estate?

Of course, Janice didn’t voice her annoyance out loud. Even though Father probably would have actually done something about it, bringing any issues to him was generally a poor idea. It was much safer to just handle things herself.

The smell of moss and faint flowers greeted Janice as she turned, taking in the quaint cemetery around her. Many of the marble headstones were overrun, but the plot directly before her was clean and untouched by foliage. There was only a single thing written on its face.

Gentil. Taken from this world far too late.

Janice reached into her pocket and pulled out the wooden box that Father had given her. The plot had already been filled in – Father evidently didn’t expect there to be enough of Gentil’s body left over to actually bury.

She knelt, placing the box on the dirt and opening it to reveal the delicate black flower within. It glistened in the dim light, sending a shiver down Janice’s spine. This wasn’t the first time she’d delivered this particular flower, and it never ended well.

It wasn’t a gesture meant for the deceased. It was one meant for the living, and the living rarely took kindly to threats.

“Father moves fast. I see old age has done little to warm his frozen heart.”

Janice stiffened, rising back to her feet and turning around. A middle-aged woman stood behind Janice, her hands behind her back and a small, amused smile on her lips. The woman’s hair hung around her face in a bob, and was slightly rotund. A flour-covered apron covered her front.

Standing nearly a head shorter than Janice, the woman couldn’t have possibly looked less intimidating if she’d wanted to. But, despite that, the back of Janice’s neck prickled violently. There were many things she did for Father, but one of the foremost ones was sensing magic – and the woman was brimming with it.

“Father changes when he sees fit to,” Janice said. She looked down at the grave. “Do you happen to be an acquaintance of Magus Gentil?”

“I met him once or twice, but no more. We simply had a mutual contact.” The woman shook her head, then sent a pointed glance down at the black flower. “One that’s going to be rather displeased with this gesture.”

“It is not my concern with how others view Father’s actions. I am simply the messenger.”

“Yes, yes,” the woman said. “Don’t worry your little backside. I’m not going to kill the messenger. Can’t say Father wouldn’t do the same, though.”

Janice didn’t respond.

“Not much of a talkative one, eh?” the woman shrugged. “Up to you. Don’t you think you’re acting a little preemptively, though? Gentil isn’t dead. His targets are a group of Rank 3s. He’s more than strong enough – even if he does have more than a dozen screw loose – to handle them. Perhaps Father is starting to overplay his hand, eh?”

“If Father has decided that Gentil is dead, then he is dead.” Janice looked back to the flower. “You’re one of Wizen’s men, then?”

“One of Wizen’s women, thank you very much.” The woman laughed, but Janice wasn’t certain what the joke was meant to be. “I’d tell you to keep the dirty thoughts from your mind, but I suspect there’s no point. You don’t seem like much fun.”

“I’m not.”

“Gathered that already, dearest. Consider your message passed, though. I’ll be sure to deliver this to Wizen – just be prepared to deal with comes after it.”

“That isn’t the entire message, actually.” Janice reached into her back pocket and pulled out a letter. Father had passed it to her right before sending her off through the portal, saying she’d need it when she ran into Wizen’s servants on the way out. As usual, he was right.

“Oh? How quaint. Did Father decide against using normal methods of communication?”

“It isn’t my place to figure out his decisions. This is for Wizen’s eyes only,” Janice said, handing the letter to the woman.

She took it, a bemused expression on her lips. “Oh? And if I were to examine it before handing to Wizen, out of fear of poison? It wouldn’t be the first time Father has removed a potential enemy with it.”

“Then you would likely regret the decision.”

The woman looked at the letter. Then she tucked it into her back pocket and brushed her hands off on her apron. “Right. No need to get threatening. I’ll make sure Wizen gets the letter. Want some food for the road?”

Janice blinked, then squinted at the woman. She didn’t seem to be joking. Noticing Janice’s look, the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a wax-paper wrapped pastry. She held it out.

“Not poisoned. I promise. Unlike Father, I prefer to kill my enemies face to face – not that I have many.”

“If you work for Wizen, at least one of those two statements is a lie.”

The woman covered her mouth and laughed. “Just because someone considers me an enemy doesn’t mean I return the sentiment. In the end, we all go to the same place. No point wasting emotions on hatred, is there?”

Janice considered the pastry, then reached out and took it. The bread glittered with the telltale signs of magic, but it wasn’t offensive to Janice’s senses. That was rare. Most things were.

“You know, you’re the first one to take that in a while. Generally, people act rude and refuse my gifts. What was your name?”

“Janice.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Janice. I’m sorry it was under these circumstances,” the woman said. “My name is Barb.”

If someone had a knife to my throat and gave me three tries to guess your name, I’m pretty sure I would have figured it out.

“Thank you for the food. Is there any message you would like me to pass back to Father?”

“Oh, no. I’d rather avoid this whole debacle. I–”

A rumble shook the ground beneath them, so faint that Janice would have passed it off as a minor earthquake if she hadn’t been actively listening. It was incredibly faint, but she could feel magic twisting through the ground far beneath their feet.

Father chose a gravesite so close to Gentil’s actual living quarters. If it were anyone else, I’d say it was a coincidence. With him, it obviously wasn’t. He wanted Wizen’s people to know he was responsible for this – even though he wasn’t. At least, I don’t think he was. It’s hard to tell with him.

Barb tilted her head to the side. She reached up to her neck and pulled out a small necklace studded with six emeralds. Five of them glittered with dark, nearly black energy. The sixth was dull and empty. “Ah. Well. I suppose I should retract my earlier statement, shouldn’t I? Gentil appears to have died.”

It sounded like Barb was discussing the weather rather than someone’s death.

Given what I know of Gentil, I’m not really all that surprised. He was a terrible bastard. The world is better without him in it. Does Wizen truly care this little, though? Gentil was one of his pawns.

“What are you thinking, Janice? I can’t read that expression of yours at all.”

“I was wondering how Wizen would take Gentil’s death.”

“In stride, I suppose. Men die in war. It happens. There’s no reason to feel anything at all. He’ll simply move on. Typically, that would involve handling the people that struck out against him – but I cannot predict how he will move forward when the killers are from Father.”

“I trust the letter that Father wrote will solve any confusion that may arise.”

“I suppose we shall have to see. Is there anything else?” Barb asked. “I imagine Wizen is going to be looking forward to hearing from me quite soon. He’ll have a right fun time figuring out what to do after Gentil went and got himself killed. What do you think – should I go back now, or should I wait a bit and make him squirm?”

“I would not suggest a course of action to you. It could end poorly if you displease Wizen, though.”

“Oh, posh. Wizen isn’t like your Father, dear. He’s quite a reasonable fellow. And, speaking of which – I hope Father doesn’t have any deigns on Dawnforge. Wizen will not be giving his hold up on it so easily.”

Janice just looked back to the flower at their feet. “Father did not tell me what his plans for Dawnforge were, but I would not dally in delivering the information that Father sent. Though I don’t believe it will matter one way or another.”

Barb knelt and picked the box with the flower in it up gently, closing the lid and sliding it into a pocket before glancing back at Janice. “And why is that?”

“Because, whatever you do, Father has already likely predicted it. There’s only one person that has taken him by surprise in over seventy years.”

“A new one?” Barb blinked. “Who?”

“The same one that just killed Gentil.” Janice inclined her head. “Thank you for the meal. I will be on my way.”

With that, she turned and strode out of the graveyard. Barb watched her depart, a pensive expression on her face. Then the older woman headed out in the opposite direction. Gentil’s grave was left barren and in the shadows, already forgotten.

It would remain that way, untouched and forgotten, until the elements wore the name from its face and crumbled the polished marble away.

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