As Jann and Borodred rode farther away from the palace they also began to go downhill, for the palace and its surrounding district rested upon the top of a gently sloping hill. Once outside the main city walls, they entered into the lifeblood of Medikyr, the clustered clutter of shops and homes that stretched far into the countryside and provided the city with its labor and commerce. The main business district consisted mainly of guild houses and prosperous business establishments that, while clearly well financed, were not as showy as the buildings near the palace. Most of the architecture here represented the period--about 150 years past--called the Mundane Period. The reigning emperor of that time, Favonius XXII had been notoriously wary of how magic was dispensed in the land and prohibited its use in the construction of new buildings. The result was not altogether displeasing, for what the business district lacked in fancy spells it more than made up for in its artisanship. The works of the finest woodcarvers, sculptors, and ironsmiths could be found on these streets, proudly displayed for the general public to admire.
But the young apprentices' destination lay a bit farther on--in a more modest place designated on city maps as the Old Marketplace. Here, beyond the business district and the more modest homes that encircled it, the streets became markedly seedier, with the exception of the main thoroughfares that the Quirinabi maintained for the benefit of visitors. Anyone who knew anything about Medikyr, however, also knew that one had only to stray off course to the next street or alley off one of the main avenues to encounter some of the most rundown, decrepit, and unwholesome people and homes found anywhere in Kyrland.
Jann found the residents of the more well-to-do districts splendid to look upon, with their silk finery and glittering jewels, their noble and staid demeanor. How beautiful they were compared to the people he had grown up with, the refuse of Market Street and Woolery Lane whose faces were lined by the claws of life; their mundane existence had sunken their eyes and tanned their skins. As Borodred steered the wagon down streets Jann had managed to escape, the thick stink of unwashed people buried them like a malodorous avalanche.
The narrow streets were swarming with people, and the air was positively vibrating with the babble of barter and the more pleasing, heavy aroma of sausage, bread, fish, and dried fruit warming in the morning sunshine. Among these crowds of shoppers and merchants whose lowly status made them unacceptable to palace society walked unusual creatures who were, ironically, common to both communities. Among the Quirinabi wizards, they were called "constructs," but in this less formalized place people called them "beasties" instead.
Beasties were the end products of experiments performed by Quirinabi wizards specializing in the manipulation of life forms: biomancers. Jann wasn't certain as to what the original goal of such experimentation had been, but the results were often incredible. Now extensively used as servants to the wizards in the palace, constructs were nevertheless not often seen wandering about the halls. Such liberties, though not forbidden, were frowned upon. But Jann had seen them in the labs of some of the wizards he had studied or visited with. A construct was just what the name implied: a combination of two or more different animals, or sometimes even plants and animals. Some constructs were fairly straightforward: horses combined with deer, hawks with wolves' heads, and so on. A master biomancer, however, could combine several different life forms so well that it was nearly impossible to tell what the original animals had been, the various anatomical parts being blended too adeptly to distinguish one from another. If done well enough, some of these constructs might be considered genuinely original life forms.
Biomancers, however, were forbidden to use humans in their experiments, not only because it was considered immoral, but also because the last such experiments, which were performed by the Gaudeyn wizards, had resulted in the creation of elves, dwarves, and fairies, all of which had rebelled against their former human masters. Officially, these races had been exterminated during the days of the Construct Wars, but it was rumored that these human offshoots still lived in remote areas of Kyrland. That they yet existed was no accident, according to some. Biomancers regularly paid for woodsmen to hunt them down and bring them to the labs, where they could be used to create new constructs with higher intelligence than was otherwise possible. Since fairies, dwarves and such other humanoid constructs were not considered human, this practice remained--if not outrightly supported--at least not overtly condemned by the Council.
Most constructs were kept within the confines of the wizards' labs, where their masters had designed them to perform specific duties. But occasionally some of the beasties escaped from their masters, or were abandoned by wizards, either because they no longer had a use for them and didn't have the heart to kill them or because--as Jann had heard happened on occasion--the results of the spell weren't desirable. These constructs eventually found their way into the alleys at the bottom of Palace Hill, where they were tolerated, if not always fully accepted, by the human residents. During his younger years, Jann had come to know a few constructs and considered some of them to be his friends.
It was one of these that Jann noticed walking toward the cart as Borodred turned onto Market Street. Callo was a bit frightening to anyone who first met her, but she had a way of winning people over if they stayed in her company long enough.
Trying to be inconspicuous, Jann hunched his shoulders and stared in the other direction. But Callo had--quite literally--the eyes of a hawk, and she spotted Jann immediately.
"Is that a thief in wizard's raiment I see?" she cried out.
Jann resignedly motioned for Borodred to stop the cart.
"Callo, is that you?"
In two strong strides, the beastie hopped up to the two apprentices, her large rabbit's feet visible from beneath tattered robes as she jumped. Jann could tell that Borodred was not unaffected by Callo's face, which was more inventive than most. She had a hawk's eyes set into a distinctively serpentine head topped by a gaudy horse's mane.
Callo said, "Oh, like it's difficult to tell who it is, one might be asking?"
"Callo, this is my friend Borodred."
A fur-backed hand reached out to shake Borodred's, and as the Ambrian extended his, Jann could see the beastie's scaly palm. "A pleasure, young sir," Callo said politely, then her attention returned to Jann. "Haven't seen you here in ages. Too good for us now, are you?"
"No, I still remember where my home is, Callo. Lessons are getting tougher, that's all."
"We're up for journeymanships," Borodred explained.
"Is that so?" If she had had any eyebrows, Callo might have looked impressed; as it was, her face seemed eerily frozen in an avian stare. "Well then, are you here for a little celebrating, one might be asking?"
"No, it's--" Jann began.
But Borodred interrupted, "Just taking a break before our brains melt and our eyes burst from too much reading."
"That can happen," Callo said, "and I know of just the preventative medicine for it. It's right in this tent over here." She gestured toward a red-and-white-striped shelter a short way down the lane.
"Callo, really," Jann said, "we both have fair ladies in the palace waiting for us."
"Aaaah. Of course, of course. But how could they possibly be as exotic as the females of Market Street?"
"They couldn't possibly, but that's fine with us, believe me."
A thin tongue flicked out from between Callo's lips. "Be wary, Jann, that palace life doesn't make you boring. Come, come, who will care whether you have a little fun, one might be asking?"
"Things like that," said Borodred, catching on, "easily come to the ears of the unintended."
"We do actually have somewhere we have to go, Callo," said Jann, "but it was good seeing you again."
"Yes," Callo agreed, "always good to see old friends. Remember, when you are done with your errand, you can always change your mind about my offer. Farewell." And she disappeared into the swelling morning crowd.
"You have some colorful friends," Borodred observed after the construct was out of sight.
Jann shrugged, "Callo's always been a character."
"Was he in earnest?"
"She," Jann corrected. "Of course. I'm not too familiar with life in the frozen North, Borodred, but in the lower streets of Medikyr you do whatever is necessary to keep your spirits up."
Snapping the reins, Borodred said no more, but drove the cart passed stalls filled with people bargaining and bickering over vegetables and spices, rugs and bolts of cloth, pots and baskets. Jann was gratified to see that some of the merchants actually looked up and recognized him; one of them took the trouble to throw an old potato at him, though most just stood in front of their goods and looked nervous.
Borodred remarked, "I've never ridden into this part of the city with you before, Jann, but now I wish I had. This is proving very educational."
"I
guess I do have a reputation of sorts," Jann admitted. "Here, watch
this." A heady sensation filled Jann as it hadn't for years. Jumping out
of the moving wagon, he took a leisurely stroll by the fruit stalls and waved
cheerfully at Borodred as if he were bidding him farewell. He was not even watching
the merchants but could guess that they were keeping an eye on him. That wouldn't
make much of a difference to a skilled thief, though.
The streets were by now beginning to team with shoppers and sellers. Jann waited
until he spotted a sizeable crowd by one of the stands before making his move.
Still pretending to watch Borodred as he drove off slowly, he bumped into a
corpulent shopper he'd never seen before who was checking bread rolls for mold.
The force of the collision pushed the man into a cart of neatly stacked loaves
of bread, spilling several of the fluffy baked goods onto the ground.
"Watch it, you lout!" the man threatened, taking a half-hearted swing at Jann.
Jann ducked down to avoid the blow, snatching up the rolls at the same time. "Beg pardon, sir. Beg pardon."
Then the man noticed Jann's dress; his eyes grew wide and he backed off a step. Jann guessed that his victim didn't recognize the difference between a Plebeian and a Royal apprentice's robes. "'S all right, young master. Just an accident, I understand. Nothing need be done about it. Nothing at all."
"Very kind of you not to take offense, sir," said Jann.
But the merchant--a broad-shouldered man who looked like he could easily flatten the apprentice with his index finger--was not so easily deceived. He came around to the scene and grabbed Jann by the wrist. "Hold it there, lad. I recognize who you are. Put those rolls back where they belong or I'll have the Guard here in two whiffs--and that won't look good for you back at the Academy, will it, eh?"
Jann looked chagrined. "You're right, sir. I'm ashamed that I should so easily regress into my old habits after only leaving the palace this morning. Here are your buns, but I beg of you, please don't report this to anyone."
The merchant scowled. "Just put 'em back right now and I won't bother. I don't like dealing with the Gold Shirts any more than you'd like answering to them."
Placing the golden-brown bread neatly back on top of the pile where they belonged, Jann bowed graciously and departed.
He rejoined Borodred a few tents down the street.
"Bad luck, ol' fellow," said the Ambrian, "but don't blame yourself. Everyone gets rusty without practice."
"You think so?" said Jann, handing his companion one of the crusty rolls and taking a bite into the soft whiteness within.
Borodred's jaw dropped open. "How did you manage that? I saw the owner catch you and make you put the bread back."
Jann explained, "A trick I learned when I was growing up. While I was putting rolls back on the top of the pile with one hand, I dropped a few from the bottom of the pile into my pockets with the other. Quick hands and distraction are a good thief's best tools."
"Huh. Well, I suppose if you can steal the underwear off an apprentice, you can swipe a bite of bread or two, though I can't fathom why you would bother. Soon you'll be able to do anything you want with a real oyil around your neck. What do you need with slight of hand?"
"A
bit of advice, Borodred: never count on magic to solve all your problems. Master
Speritus taught me that."
"I don't remember that lesson."
"You must have been sick that day. Besides, magic can be detected by another adept. If I tried my little prank on Pinkus with the help of an oyil, he could have caught me at it. And there's no fun in being caught. That I can tell you from personal experience."
Borodred shrugged. "Just don't try to steal anything from me."
"Oh." Jann looked chagrined. "Perhaps I should return this, then." He held up the Ambrian's purse in one hand. "Fastest hands in all Medikyr," he boasted.
