A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

a straight wall with towers behind, but everything was a jumble. Walls of different heights and widths made out of varying stone matched the crazy skyline of the enclave. There were wide towers with flat tops, skinny towers with conical tops, and more that didn’t lend well to the description. If the cabals were so independent, he couldn’t think of a more apt representation of chaos loosely bound.

He guessed cabals had been free to build their own headquarters. From what he had seen in the few hours he had spent inside, most of that cacophony of styles were interconnected by stairs, pavilions, and corridors mostly protected from the elements.

“That is a heavily warded field,” Custik said. “Almost as sophisticated as what I used to protect the Blue Tower. That might not seem to be a barrier to you, but it will be to the rest of us, or will until I think of a way in.”

“I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to get the forces positioned around the west side. The magicians at the manor had to have had a way out,” Trevor said. He was tempted to cross the field at night, but then what would he do? Trevor was so lost that last time he visited the enclave. He only knew what direction he had faced due to the window overlooking the ocean.

It was too soon, anyway. The other armies were a few days away from reaching their assigned destinations. Win volunteered to climb a tree, but his ascent only proved that they didn’t have a view of the bay. Then Trevor knew what to do. He would teleport onto the long wharf that ran along the bay shore with Brother Yvan and do a little reconnoitering inside Khartoo.

“You don’t mind?” Trevor asked Brother Yvan after he revealed his plan to the cleric. Potur Lott and the Brachian commander had joined them by a fire. Brother Yvan wasn’t the happiest to have been aroused from sleep.

“I’m here to do more than follow you, although I think Lissa might be better at such a thing. You can hardly tell a constable that you are out for a stroll with your sweetheart.”

“My uncle, then,” Trevor said.

“Am I that old?” Brother Yvan asked.

“Barely,” Trevor said. “I remember a suitable spot near Potur Lott’s sweet shop owner.”

Potur frowned. “I wouldn’t trust him. Someone told the enclave that you were going to try to scout the place.”

“Can’t you buy a map of the enclave?” Brother Yvan asked.

Potur laughed. “I doubt you’d get one that was very accurate or very detailed if it was. Everyone else in Khartoo expects the enclave to blow up with one big, massive magical war between the cabals.”

“It may come to that if we are lucky,” Trevor said, thinking of Custik installing wards of his own in the buildings. That strategy was too sloppy, at least for now.

Trevor put on his diving outfit, and Brother Yvan borrowed a black cloak from the Brachian commander. He nodded to Potur and the Brachian before grabbing Brother Yvan’s wrist and teleporting to the Khartoo wharf.

“Hey!” a man said as he caught himself from falling. Trevor and Brother Yvan had appeared amidst a loosely organized group of young men dressed much the same as Trevor.

“I’m so sorry,” Brother Yvan said drunkenly.

Trevor picked up the theme, and they turned to walk the other way, pretending to hold each other up. Trevor felt someone shove him in the back. “I’ll make sure you are sorry,” one of the young men said. Trevor turned around just in time to duck from an attempted punch. Trevor stomped on the man’s foot and heard a satisfying yelp.

“I’m more than sorry for stepping on your foot. We will be happy to leave you to your stroll.”

The others urged their companion along in the deepening twilight. Trevor was going to follow, but Brother Yvan held onto Trevor to keep him still.

Once the group walked out of earshot, Brother Yvan barked out a soft laugh. “I always wondered what happened when you teleported where there were other people.”

Trevor nodded in the light of a magic lamp. “I suspected there are magical mechanisms that keep you from sharing the same space as a person or a table or a chair.”

“Dryden certainly knows more about it than we do,” Brother Yvan said.

“I’m sure he does,” Trevor said. They turned back to follow the group of rowdy young men as they walked toward the enclave and the large cluster of lights that illuminated a night market. “It’s easier to go by boat, but we won’t be going inside tonight.”

They had appeared farther from the enclave than Trevor would have liked, but they didn’t want to risk another encounter with a second transfer. Finally, they reached an open-air entertainment zone at the ocean’s edge. Music of all kinds added to the excitement. He wished Lissa were with him, and Trevor suspected Brother Yvan would rather have Reena at his side.

They walked in the shadows toward the enclave and listened to the marketgoers. Brother Yvan stepped over to a booth selling cheap jewelry as Trevor looked over inexpensive books. No one seemed bothered by the fact that armies were moving through their country toward Khartoo. Trevor expected an underlying tension, but these citizens didn’t seem bothered.

“Do you sell maps?” Trevor asked, thumbing through a romance he had read when he resided in the Tarviston castle tower.

“What are you interested in?” the merchant asked, pulling out a bin of used maps.

“Khartoo,” Trevor said. “I’m writing a novel, like this one,” he held up the romance, “and I want to make sure the action takes place in real places.”

“You can’t walk the streets yourself?” the seller asked.

“Have you ever written anything?” Trevor asked.

“I sell books. I don’t write them.”

“Then you wouldn’t know that you don’t