Wraithblood: The Elixir, Episode 6

You decide to disarm the traps first, and then pick the lock.

And the world shrinks, narrowing down until it is just you and the Strigosti trapbox. Numbers flash through your mind, equation after equation as you pry open a metal plate, probing the intricate mesh of gears and springs that powers the trap. Most people only look at the physical, but you understand the mathematical reality underlying the construction of the traps and locks.

Time passes. You couldn’t say how much. Sweat drips down your forehead.

Then, with a loud click, the Strigosti trapbox opens.

You stare at it, and feel a sudden overwhelming wave of emptiness. The puzzle is solved. The equation is balanced. The challenge is over.

All at once you badly want some wraithblood.

“That’s impossible,” says Azaces, voice thick. “This has to be a trick, Nasser. No one can open a Strigosti trapbox without the proper keys.”

“Except, it seems,” says Nasser, smiling, “for Nerina Strake.”

You help yourself to some of the tiny bottles of acid from the trap, along with a few of the finer gears. They might come in handy.

“My master will be furious,” says Tarquin. “He paid a handsome sum for that box.”

Nasser opens the lid. Inside is nothing but a corroded bronze bracelet, its side carved with intricate symbols. He takes the bracelet, considers it for a moment, and then tucks it away inside his coat.

“So you see, Azaces,” says Nasser, “that stealing from the Master Alchemist Callatas is not so suicidal as it might seem. We have Madame Strake, who can open Strigosti locks. And we have Tarquin, Callatas’s steward, who can give us much useful information.”

Riordan snorts. “Turning on your master, eh?”

Tarquin sneers, and for the first time you see something other than fear on his hairless face. “I hate the Master! He is cruel and brutal, and has made me suffer! My sister and I were bought together, and the Master put her to death for spilling his soup. I hate Master Callatas, and I will make him pay for what he has done!”

“Tarquin has also shared,” says Nasser, ignoring Tarquin’s outburst, “that Callatas will be attending the Padishah two nights hence, leaving his mansion. Since I have no wish to face a Master Alchemist in combat, we shall steal the Elixir Rejuvenata from his strong room then.”

“Aye?” says Riordan. “You’ve a plan, and it’s a good one, Captain – but how are we to get past Callatas’s guards and traps? The Alchemists have sorcerous allies, and creatures summoned up from the netherworld.”

Nasser smiles, and touches the pocket that holds the corroded bronze bracelet. “Leave that to me.”

“So what are the details?” says Azaces.

“We…”

A crash from the coffee house’s main room interrupts Nasser, followed by the shouts of angry men and the clang of steel on steel. Riordan leaps to his feet, broadsword in hand, while both Nasser and Azaces draw their scimitars.

“What?” says Azaces, glaring at Nasser. “Your enemies have found you, hmm?”

Nasser lifts an eyebrow. “Please. Everyone in this room has someone who wants him – or her – dead.”

He’s right about that.

The sounds of combat get louder from the main room.

“Scatter!” says Nasser. “We’ll meet at midnight, in the courtyard of the Temple of the Living Flame in the Old City.”

Azaces, and Riordan, and Tarquin flee. Azaces and Riordan vanish out the back, while Tarquin ducks through a trapdoor in the floor.

“Strake,” says Nasser, “come with me. I suspect those men are actually here for you – whether to kill you, kidnap you, or to force you to work for my competitors, I know not. The sooner we get you away from them, the better.”

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