Chapter 3

The smell of Altdorf hit them before the saw it. The smell thousands wood and coal fires, the smell of sweat, the smell of spices and timber, the smell of live stock, grain, old fruit, mud, horses, cooking meat, baking bread, the tang of hot metal, the reek of tanners yards, the fishy odor of the waterfront and docks, all underlaid with the smell of hundreds of thousands of humans and their waste gathered together. The smell of Altdorf. The smell of Home.

Emmaline reigned in her horse as the reached the top of Cemetery Hill, a small knoll on the east of the city where the road rose up to give a view of the great Imperial metropolis. The great ribbon of the Stir curved away in both directions, touching the city in an intricate series of docks, jetties and quays. Hundreds of ships were docked or underway, flying the flags of dozens of nations from the insolent ensign of Marienburg to the silken standard of far off Uluthan. Many were heading east, under sail or banks of oars, carrying troops or supplies towards the Siege at Nuln. Millitary aid between provinces was a matter of politics in the Empire, but a direct threat to Nuln and its vast gunpowder works and armament factories ensured a swift and savage response. Not all of the vessels would be millitary of course, many a merchant would seek to make a fortune supplying the troops that were already rushing west, or by being the first to bring food and material to a great city which was now starved of both.

Beyond the docks the city rose in levels of increasing opulence, from the waterfront tenement and firetraps up through the prosperous streets of Market Lane and the Crofter Square. Emmaline though she could make out a flash of color that marked the Street of a Thousand Taverns, her old haunt when she had lived here. Beyond that were the towers of the College of Magic and the mighty spire of the Grand Cathedral, glowering at each other in eternal unease. Beyond that lay the Imperial Palace, or more accurately palaces, where the great and good ruled the Empire of Man and Riekland with tenacity which always outweighed its effectiveness. These final vistas were hazy and indistinct, the smoke of cook fires and furnaces wafting from innumerable chimneys to stain the crisp fall air.

"Welcome to the greatest city in the world," Emmaline declared as she looked out over the vista.

"It stinks," Neil observed, wrinkling his nose.

"Doesn't it though?" Emmaline said happily and touched her heels to the flank of her horse to get it moving again. She neither knew nor liked horses, but from comments she had received during the journey it seemed that both of their steeds were of good quality. Emmaline suspected that several minor nobles had vanished on Hexenaucht, adding to the grim legends for the wrong reasons. The horses trotted down through the traffic, farm wives on their way to market, peddlers driving wagons of goods, even the occasional Imperial messenger dashing past on a fast horse. They might soon have to sell the beasts, as what little coin they had scrapped together was nearly exhausted, the only thing of value that remained to them was the Wyrdstones that had stolen in Nuln. Emmaline was confident they could sell them, but it would take time and subtly to do so safely. The needed money badly and in Altdorf, so close the Colleges, there was no hope of passing false coins shimmed up with a spell.

"We need to find somewhere to stay," she told Neil, "and I doubt there are any towers free."

Despite his snark, Neil felt almost as at home as Emmaline. He could survive on the road, but not thrive. He was a city boy, and he rarely stayed longer than a week or two outside of one of the great metropolises of the Old World. Cities had intrigue, women, money, and one could get lost, or better yet lose others, so easily in its jungle of stone and woodworks. He had to admit Altdorf was a sight, giving a low, appreciative whistle, which Emmaline misconstrued as him flirting with her. She gave a smile and Neil winked back, playing along regardless. He had been here once before, years ago when he had been traveling to Nuln. He had only set foot in the capital of the whole of the Empire for a few brief hours, sticking lose to the river barge he was traveling on. He mostly remembered the spires, and the distant colleges of magic, and streetlamps! They weren't actually uncommon in Nuln, but most were paid out of pocket. In Altdorf, almost the entirety of the city, at least all the main walkways, were lit with street lamps in the evening.

Neil thought back to his stay there, remembering when he watched the halfling juggle six potatoes and steal a wallet all while a dozen men and women watched. He remembered a man claiming to be a wizard threatening a grey-haired mercenary before the charlatan was run off. He recalled the portly vendor that sold him a slab of honeyed ham for his trip. It was strange to think Emmaline was here during then. Strange that he remembered watching the city gently go by as his barge traversed the waterways to send him to Nuln. He felt a moment of loss, for a second. He wished he could have spotted her in the winding streets, flirted with her then. Life was full of such things, he supposed.

"No towers? Well, guess we'll have to settle for a villa then. They make Tilean style mansions here right?"

"For the right price," Emmaline replied in good humor. But it ebbed out of her when they entered the shadow of the first gate. It looked like any other, perhaps more grandly designed and far larger than most. The layered stone was well carved, with a steel portcullis just waiting to fall and two great doors reinforced with iron ready to close at a moment's notice. "This is the Witches Gate," Emmaline explained as they passed under it. "This is the gate Templars would bring in apostates and dark magicians to be executed." She idly grabbed at her throat, as if imagining an axe blade slicing through it.

"If they don't have a thieves gate I'll feel left out," Neil replied, taking her hand on her throat into his own and squeezing it. As usual, the two bounced back immediately. The guards barely glanced their way, and soon the clamor of the streets filled their ears. "Don't suppose there are any abandoned apartments around here, right?"

"If there are, I don't think there would be a sign." She quipped. But Neil did see her place a hand to her chin, as if she were thinking of the most likely sections of the city to contain abandoned areas. But then she shook the thought away. "The Grandmarkt is this way, past the docks. Let's hope Shallya let's us find somewhere we could sleep at least..."

Hours later...

The Gilded Ox was once a grand stone building with intricate carvings and ornamentation upon its crenelated façade. Now it is falling down, with large cracks across its stone walls and a crumbled and abandoned annex. The sign, with the visage of an ox, half peeled away, upon a red and white striped field, is faded and looks less gilded and more rusted. The Rusted Bull, some now called the tavern. Though not within ear shot of the owner, a surely, one-eyed dwarf named Kagri who ran the place like a well-oiled handgun. Neil and Emmaline had gotten all this information from a rake named Siegfried who had picked them out for a couple of chumps before Neil saw through his little sleight of hand scheme, called the Brettonian Drop Neil had used a few times, and managed to wrangle some real information out of him.

Now Emmaline and Neil found themselves walking under the squeaking sign of the Gilded Ox, walking in to find it much like Siegfried described. It was moderately large, maintained but not well furnished. There was a mix match of round and rectangular tables, and the timber planks on the walls and wood were reddish brown, giving the room a warm feeling coupled with the lamplight. A few mercenaries enjoyed themselves, chatting and cursing and snickering. A halfling sat in the corner with three different mugs of drink, as if trying to decide between them. A young local drank, bleary eyed with his face in his mug. A hooded man sat in the back, keeping to himself. A small number of couples and well to-do customers were there, but they were few and far between compared to the rougher men in hard leathers and stern looks. A table in the back had a bunch of locals laughing, carousing, one louder one pinched a barmaid as she passed by, but they were an outlier to the more moderate demeanor.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Neil asked Emma.

"What? It was your idea!" She snapped.

"Yeah, but you didn't talk me out of it." He pointed out.

"Can I help you?" A tired man in an apron asked, seemingly the only male on staff. He had caught them in his eye and stepped our from behind the small bar area. He had a lot of wrinkles for someone who did not look over forty, and was balding to boot. His lips were cracked, and he tilted his head to listen.

"We were looking for work." Neil said, sharing a look from Emmaline. "My lady here is a good dancer, and I'm a pretty good flute play-"

He snorted, showing his teeth in a sardonic smile. "Well, I could talk to old Kagri, but let me tell you right now. If you want work, we don't need no entertainers. Even if you're good. Kagri will just say..." He pointed at Emmaline. "Barmaid," and then pointed at Neil. "Bouncer. Sorry, but that's all we need. One of our girls ran off a few weeks ago and likely wound up dead. And it gets rough around these parts at night, and our last bouncer got killed."

Neil quirked an eyebrow, but Emmaline was glowering at the prospect of working with her hands, whispering. "Barmaid..." as if it was an unholy curse.

The drunk crashed heavily into the street, kicking up a sheet of dirty water from the overfilled drain that softened his fall. Passersby cursed or laughed depending on how much water sprayed and upon whom. Emmaline watched with amused interest as she set down the tray of wooden tankards on the bar. Jessup, a good natured if somewhat dim witted lad who served as the bars dishhand took he tray and vanished into the back with much clattering of pottery. Kargi emerged from the kitchen and shot her a furious one eyed glare.

"You had better no let me catch you pocketing tips," the dwarf grumped with the ill temper that only a dwarf that thinks he is being cheated of gold can muster.

"I won't," Emmaline replied impudently, giving the dwarf an offensively innocent smile. Kargi glared for a moment longer and then stomped away muttering in his own language about how if she didn't bring in twice the custom he would have her thrown onto the street. Being thrown onto the street was not appealing, though the converted hayloft in which she and Neil were living was hardly the high life to which she hoped to become accustomed. Unfortunately room in Altdorf was at somewhat of a premium, especially since the city was packed with panicky refugees. Emmaline could have returned to the College of Magic of course, but her erstwhile master would certainly want an installment on her dues and probably involve her in another of his harebrained plots. Even more importantly, if she was going to move the stolen Wyrdstone it was best that no one from the College knew she was back in town.

"All set," Neil said, dusting his palms of theatrically after his ejection of the thief. Emmaline reached into her cleavage and produced three fat gold pieces which she deposited into one of Neil's pockets to her lovers evident amusement. Neil had spent the last several days setting up the buy for the Wyrdstone. The magical nature of the clientele meant there was a better than average chance of being swindled unless you took sufficient precautions.

"I'm done with my shift!" Emmaline called and stripped off her apron with a suspicious metallic jingle. Kargi's shouted reply was unintelligible but it was close enough to the end of the afternoon shift for her to finish. With any luck they would be considerably richer by morning.

"Not zo fest!"

Neil and Emmaline were suddenly obscured by an immense shadow, and Neil's heart skipped a beat when he suddenly remembered his boasting the other night, and all that implicated. Emmaline could see a myriad of emotions, ranging from regret to amusement to acceptance flash across her lover's face. However, that was only for a brief moment, for the sight past her was more attention-grabbing. She tried not to gape as the Ogre, for it was indeed an Ogre, approached, wondering what in Sigmar's balls Neil had done to gain its ire.

It was Folgtooth, the biggest patron in the Gilded Ox. He came every fortnight, to drink two barrels of mead and eat half the pies in the tavern. Fully nine feet in height, he used the common room's sofa as a throne. Every time he came around, he attracted would-be groupies, and though he broke more glasses and shattered more chairs than anyone, Kargi tolerated him because of the good business, and the fact the Ogre scared off the less scrupulous who thought they might could take whatever bouncer was on duty. Except this time, it seemed like the monster had something to prove with the bouncer.

"Li'l man sez tonight be the night!" He rumbled, speaking with what passed as an inside voice for the lumbering brute. He wore a sleeveless jacket that barely fit his shoulders, keeping his gut open. On each of his forearms, he bore three bronzed rings. Whoever had tailor pantaloons that fit him, bravo. "You fink Folgtooth fo'get, but he dunnit!"

"Hey c'mon, man. I was just talking out of my ass, why don't we call it even?" Neil asked him, raising his arms to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Folgtooth did not like that answer, leaning down and showing his massive teeth. Emmaline hid behind Neil, peeking past his shoulder as she clung to his shirt.

"What did you do!?" She whispered accusatorily.

"I said I could beat him at arm wrestling and uh, that he was a big baby far from home." Neil remarked. He heard Emmaline's intake of breath, and got a bit defensive. "He was insulting you, I had to say something!"

"No, you didn't!" She snapped back. As sweet as it was, the main goal was to survive until they could sell the warpstone token. Neil knew that was what she was thinking, leastwise.

"We were drinking!" He complained. She rolled her eyes, but was interrupted before she could chastise him.

Folgtooth bellowed a guttural roar, and this time he was not using his inside voice. So loud was his yell, Neil felt his hair pick up from the excess wind, and the Ogre stomped on the ground, splintering a wooden panel like stepping on a twig. The Gilded Ox had gone horrifically quiet in abject fear. "Table! Or I eat youz and yer girl!"

"Alright big gu-" Neil started, then noticed Emmaline's grip had slackened. He turned and saw the tail of her dress fluttering as she was out the door. Well, that was awkward. He sighed, and turned back to face the Ogre. A female mercenary in hard leather stumbled out of the way, as did a local gaoler and one of the dockside workers as Folgtooth stumbled forward and plopped down on his couch, placing his huge elbow on the table.

Neil lifted his left arm, and gave it a good long look. "Goodbye leftie, we had a lot of fun together. We committed a lot of crimes, but we also made some people super happy too. I bet Emma will miss you as much as me...if I live..."

Neil found his seat across the table, all eyes on him as he rolled his sleeve up. The silence was only broken by a few whispers of either disbelief or insulting his intelligence. The thief could not blame them in the slightest, if he was honest with himself. He placed his own elbow on the table, and Folgtooth chuckled malevolently. The massive humanoid turned his head, his eyes fixing on a merchant who sipped his wine. "'Ey, youz! Youz getz to count down!" He ordered.

The merchant nearly spilled his drink, surprised the Ogre had singled him out. But swallowing, he placed his cup down and shakily got to his feet. "Er, of course, herr Ogre." He remarked, fixing his feathered cap and approaching the table. Folgtooth grinned at Neil as the merchant took his position at the side of the table, his pig-like eyes boring into the thief with an unspoken threat. Neil could already tell he planned to rip Neil's arm off.

They closed hands, Neil's relatively big hand engulfed by the Ogre's massive fist. The merchant looked at Neil like he was gazing at a dog that was about to be shot, and he raised his hand to begin the count. "Yes, are we ready?" Neil was not, but that hardly mattered. Briefly he thought about spitting in the Ogre's eye or getting a knife, but none of the thoughts ended well. "On three!... One...Two...Three!"

Neil pushed with all of his might, gripping the table with his other hand to steady himself as his muscled bulged in exertion. Folgtooth's arm barely budged, and the Ogre gave a smile that showed his vast teeth, as if he were ready to devour Neil once he took his arm. The Ogre began to chuckle ominously, gripping Neil's hand a bit more firmly for the kill...

A loud whistle rang out from across the common room, and both Neil and Folgtooth turned their heads to see Emmaline sauntering up, a massive pie in her hands. It was freshly baked, and Neil could smell the pie even from there. Folgtooth looked at it like a fish staring at a worm. "'Ey, wots she doin, wit dat?" He asked, dumbfounded. Emmaline batted her eyelashes.

"Oh this? It's just for Neil to have, since I know he'll lose. Poor bouncer, he works so hard!" She said with a theatric pout, holding the pie under Folgtooth's nose. The Ogre inhaled the sweet scent of the cooked blueberries stuffed in it, and gulped. Neil renewed his assault, and unbeknowst to either him or Folgtooth, Emmaline concentrated as well, having already prepared a spell of manipulation to help move the bronze rings during her absense. As one, both Neil and Emmaline shoved with their combined physical and magical might while the Ogre sniffed the delicacy, and before Folgtooth even knew it, his arm had hit the table with a 'thud.'

"Oh, wow." Emmaline marveled, placing the hand she had held behind her back for the spell to her lips. "I did not think you'd lose, handsome! Here, have this pie! It's freeeeessshhh." She placed it in front of the Ogre, who had let go of Neil's hand and grabbed the large baked good, opening his mouth impossibly wide to devour it. By the time the food had tumbled down his throat, Neil had grabbed Emmaline's hand and the two of them were out of there, the door banging against the wall from their flight, laughter following them.

The Cloisters were as close to deserted as any place in Altdorf. Once they had been part of a Shallyan nunnery but they had been in a state of ruin since the time of Magnus the Pious. It's claim to fame in these fallen days was that it formed a borderland between the city and the Arcane Colleges. By day they were lively places where activities of questionable legallity, like duels or meetings of outre academics movements, took place. By night they were deserted, even the most desperate homeless unwilling to risk the proximity of so many wizards in the dark.

It had taken considerable time to arrange the buy. If she had been an accredited wizard it might have been easier but as an apprentice anyone who would deal with her could simply go over her head to her master. It had taken a series of decreasingly vauge letters to get the name of an Ameythst Wizard named Ethelbert and another series too arange a price and meeting place. The cloisters were a natrual enough place, and while Emmaline disliked doing it at night she could see that it made sense for everybody.

The appointed cloister was in better repair than most, its ancient fluted colums curled with green ivy and its floor swept almost clean. A statue of a man perhaps a priest or saint stood on a plinth in the middle, a hand up stretched to beesech the heavens. Emmaline opened a small bag and set to work. First she marked several flagstones with a stick of fine chalk, carefully sketching out strange sigils and designs. Once this was done she painstakingly removed all of the wildflowers within ten feet of the statue, plucking of each petal and casting it to a different cardinal point finally she took a bag of coarse salt from her satchel and tugged the drawstrings open, walking backwards and widdershins she spilled out a trail of salt in a circle which passed through each of the runes she had marked. She then drew a second smaller circle that interescted with the first, half on one side of the line and half on the other.

"How do you know it has worked?" Neil asked, looking a little nervous. Emmaline couldn't exactly blame him. Explaining to the Templars what he was doing watching her cast salt and flower petals around in the dead of night might be beyond even his silver tongue. As if in answer to his question the salt suddenly rustled like a snake, forming itself into a perfect inch thick circle which touched the glyphs without covering them.

"You know, I sometimes forget you are actually a wizard," he admitted candidly. Emmaline stuck her tongue out at him and made a beckoning guesture. Neil stepped over the circle rather gingerly and layed the case with the wyrdstone in it down at the base of the statue. Emmaline knelt and chanted for a few seconds in the arcane tongue, her last syllable seeming to hang in the air like the echo of a distant bell.

"And this will stop your death wizard friend from turning us to dust to save a few gelt?" Neil asked. Emmaline cleared her throat awkardly.

"Well, it will make it so noisy to try that he probably wont want to risk anyone from the College investigating," she hedged. Neil's eyebrows lifted but he didn't make any further comment. The hard truth was that Emmaline with her hodgepodge and often interrupted education simply wasn't a match for a full fledged wizard. The best she could hope for was to make the cost of ripping them off too high. Further discussion was interupted by the distinctive 'tap-tap-clack' of someone walking with a cane. Apparently the two thieves were not the only ones arriving early. At least Emmaline hoped it was their buyer, it was going to be pretty awkward if some random passerby found them in a magic circle with proscribed artifacts. That fear faded as a man in a long purple cloak and a pointed conical hat emerged from the gloom. He carried a long crooked staff in his right hand and his face was a mass of twisting shadows, a simple spell to conceal his idenity.

"Good evening," the figure intoned. The accent was Averlander rendering good as 'gutt' and seemed vaguely familiar.

"Good evening master wizard," Emmaline replied politely. The wizard nodded his head and looked to the case, though how Emmaline could tell he was looking there with his face disguised she wasn't quite sure.

"Ju did nickt troost me?" he asked, leaning forward to tap at the salt circle with the butt of his staff. The crystals stubbornly refused to move no matter how much he prodded.

"Zis ist gut vork, your meister must be proud ja?" the wizard continued. Again Emmaline had a sense that she had heard this voice somewhere before. If she could have thought of a way to call this off she would have but she was committed now and had to follow through, the circle trapped her inside as much as it kept the stranger out.

"Fascinating speculation aside, maybe you just hand over the coin and we can both be on our way? she suggested. The wizard cocked his head as though amused.

"And how vill ve do that vith you locked away in your little magik circle hmm?" he asked.

"Let me see the gold," Emmaline demanded, "then I will tell you how will will exchange it." The wizard reached into his robe and produced a heavy purse. He pulled the draw strings open and showed it to her, thick shining crowns rattled over each other, glittering in the moonlight. Emmaline felt her stomach sink.

"What is it?" Neil asked in concern.

"They are fake," she whispered. Emmaline might be a poor wizard, but gold was her element and even at this range she could tell that the gold in the bag was a clever illusion.

"Should I shoot him?" Neil asked. It was a serious question, he had a pistol on him and Emmaline suddenly regretted not having taken the time to ensorcell the ball.

"No, best not to break the circle," she told him.

"Ju are nicht fooled I see," the wizard said, sounding more impressed than irritated. He let the bag drop to the ground, and rather than clank with coins it simply deflated and was suddenly empty.

"Vell ju cannit blame a man for trying," he said philosopically. Shadows exploded from the cloister walls. Corpse light shadow figures that screamed silently with hyper extended jaws. They rushed forward in a wall, crashing against the invisible walls of the circle where they burst in showers of golden sparks. The whole thing was competely silent save for a soft keening which Emmaline eventual realised was her own scream, and the sound of Neil cocking his pistol and pointing it at the space he had last seen the wizard. Visions of leering sepulcral horror danced on the warding for perhaps half a minute and then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished. The wizard was gone. Emmaline's mouth worked in shock and spun to find that the case had vanished.

"It's gone!" she gasped, the fear of a moment ago being transmuted into anger she kicked the inner side of the warding circle and it collapsed.

"Hurry we have to catch him!" she called to Neil and set off at a run towards the Amythest college. It only took a few minutes before the realised that the cloisters were deserted and the wizard had slipped away by some means beyond their understanding. Emmaline slowed to a jog, then to a walk before coming to a dejected halt. She had carried those damn stones all the way from Nuln and now they were gone.

"What do we do now?" Neil asked, gently easing the cocked pistol to take the pressure off the spring. Emmaline glared at the distant college. The sane and sensible thing would have been to let it go. There were plenty of places to make gold in this city that didn't involve going up against a member of the College.

"Wan't to break into a Wizard's Tower?" she asked.