Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [7]
In the quarter of Haven where Revrius Frank maintained his smithy, Paulus was already developing a reputation as a man who could be trusted to perform skilled work. Indeed, for the last week he had been working on his most elaborate project to date: a silver mirror of perfect reflectivity, a sheet of metal hammered thin so as to be easily transportable, in a frame that would be highly pleasing to the eye. Tomorrow he would put the final polish on the piece, which had been commissioned by the most successful garment maker in Haven.
It is safe to presume that, as he walked home this pleasant spring evening, Paulus Thwait had no inkling of the role he would play as a small but influential mote in the current that makes up the River of Time.
He moved easily up the lane, stepping over the refuse that was scattered in the gutters, skirting the elder hermit who snored noisily, as he did every afternoon, on a small patch of greening grass. Close now, Paulus caught the scents of garlic and pepper, and knew his young wife had found the ingredients for a marvelous stew. The silversmith’s stomach growled loudly as he clumped up the steps that led to the narrow balcony outside of their humble lodgings.
“That fat horse merchant tipped me two steel pieces for my work on his bridle,” he announced as he burst through the door. Belinda, the babe in her arms, rushed across the room to him, startling Paulus with a gasp of relief as she threw herself against his chest.
Only then did he notice the mysterious figure across the room, in the corner farthest from the fire. It resembled a man cloaked completely in rags of dark cloth, but as he looked closer, Paulus felt a shiver of disquiet.
Though the stranger seemed to stand upright, its lower reaches vanished into tendrils of mist! It had no legs, nor did it seem to be supported in any way on the floor.
“It came here a moment ago!” Belinda declared in a rush of fright. “Just appeared-in the corner, where it is now.”
“Did it harm you? Threaten you?” His voice choked as Paulus looked at the thing, fear and fury mingling in his emotions.
“No, nor young Dany. It just stayed there, as if it’s waiting for something.”
Paulus was a brave man, but he knew that it was only sensible to fear magic and the supernatural, both of which seemed well represented by the disembodied figure that now swirled threateningly toward the middle of the tiny room. But this was his home, and that knowledge brought courage and determination to the fore.
“What do you want?” the silversmith demanded in a voice thick with anger. All his brawler’s past came flooding back, and he crouched, fists clenching at his side.
“Two steel pieces will be an adequate start,” hissed the stranger in a voice that reminded the silversmith of water rolling at a steady boil.
“Why should I pay you?”
“Because you wish to live, to see your family survive, and to ply your trade in my city.”
“I am doing all that now.” With great effort, the smith restrained himself from striking the apparition.
“Ah, but for how long? That is the question every mortal dreads to answer, is it not?”
“Go away. Leave my home.’”
“I will take the steel for now,” insisted the ghostly interloper.
“You will take nothing!”
“Hah! You will pay, as do they all. You will be in my master’s thrall from this day forward! And if you do not give steel, then I claim by fee in dearer coin!”
Infuriated, the young man attacked the figure, only to find that his fist punched through a cowl of black, cold air. He felt a chill of fear, but in his anger, he flailed wildly, both hands swinging through the intangible form.
The vaporous messenger slipped past him in a hissing spoor of gas, a sound punctuated by a manic, cackling laugh.
Belinda screamed as the insidious vapor swirled around her and the squalling baby. With a whoosh of wind, the gaseous