…oh, this is an interesting tie in now with Percy - thanks!
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Thanks for reading!
I’ve been wanting to incorporate Percy as part of this story from the moment I thought of the idea. We’ll see how it goes! I’m only about a chapter ahead of my publishing, so I need to write him in still. There’s a couple of interaction points I have planned for him, but he’s tricky.
Most of Catastrophe Collector occurs before the events of this story. So, there’s a lot about him that we don’t know what he’s up to. To keep this up more like a deleted scenes story, I need to be careful not to write over what Azalea may have planned for him.
Also, I loved writing that bit about the spell. Siobhan’s perspective makes out that this magic is completely ordinary stuff anyone could do. Which, in a way, that’s fine for her.
Barely anyone mentions it except the chapter with Lacer, who basically is puzzled why she had a glowing spell array, and they barely mention the spell except to note the Raven Queen’s mercy.
Meanwhile, shooting little balls of exploding glass? That goes straight through the barrier? Terrifying. When she’s using it, everyone who gets hit goes down almost immediately. So, I thought that would be a fun thing to bandy about in rumor.
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Fun enough, but two things that bug me: it’s ‘affected’ not ‘effected’ both times you’re using it and ‘commensurate’ not ‘commiserate’. They’re both valid words but not the ones you want I’m sure. That’s for the first chapter.
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First, Thanks for reading!
Second, LOL, just the two? Yeah, those are typos. It’s a combination of being dyslexic and having the autocorrect fix the spelling. I do, indeed, know that I want the other word and am aware of the difference.
Seeing it, however, can be a struggle in the midst of my sentence. Autocorrect is much worse than spell check for me; with a spell check, I can pick the correct word. Autocorrect, however, picks the word it thinks I want, which adds additional mistakes that are more difficult for me to detect.
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Also, there will be many typos, in the end. I did not proof these to within an inch of their lives, because they are pretty much first drafts. I did fix those two though, in case you are looking for them later.
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This may be the last chapter I post here for awhile. I’m struggling to keep the writing ahead of the posts. Trying to post once a week with a full time job really makes it obvious how difficult it is to do a serialization. I’ve put the first chapter on Royal Road partly as an experiment, and partly to fit it into a more public forum. Those chapters are getting an edit, but I still wouldn’t call them much more than a first draft.
Chapter 8
Consulting Frigg
Month 12, Day 3, 7:30 AM
“Do you have a jacket or cardigan or something?” Poe asked.
“Why?” Marie generally was warm enough without much more than her dress. Yes, everyone else around her insisted that she should be cold. She just never felt that way.
“It’s cold on the roof, and we will have to wait. Frigg is a little temperamental around strangers.”
“I have a felted wool ruana cloak.”
“Is it black?”
“It’s, ugh. It’s black on one side and red on the other.”
“Really?”
“Red is ok. Ok?” Marie muttered. She didn’t like red, but her Mama insisted that she have something she could show the Morrows that she was, on whatever technicality, one of them, because she would be safer that way. In Morrows territory she could wear it red side out. It was cheap to make and own, because a ruana was not much more than a square blanket with a slit halfway to the middle so you could drop it over your shoulders and wrap one side of the front under or over the other.
“Ok. Let’s go up to the roof. I’ll show you what we need to do when we get there.”
They made their way to the roof, with a short stop for Marie to get her cloak and cloak pin. She wrapped it around her shoulders, and took the brass pin, which had been made from a broken skeleton key where the handle had broken off, to pin it from slipping off her shoulders. Encased in the waist-length thick wool (black side out), she ascended the stairs through the attic and climbed the hatch onto the roof.
Marie gawked at the city in the misty morning. The Agency’s building wasn’t the tallest one on this street, but it was slightly taller than those around it. From here Marie could see down on the people walking on the streets, over the roofs to the vast city of buildings, forest of chimneys, and had a clear view of the great white walls that surrounded them.
The top of the walls, where the University and the High Crown sat, were obscured by a fog that had rolled off the gulf that morning. But, the sun was just beginning to boil it away, so that you could see everything in the distance shadowed in blue and white. Everything had a dream-like quality, and even the sounds of city seemed muffled, like hearing voices while hiding under the blankets.
“Poe. Master. … This is kinda nice. Will we be doing much magic up here?”
“No. Well, maybe. It depends on how many lessons we do on animism and shamanry.” Poe sat on the roof next to a bowl, and gestured for her to join him.
Marie thought the bowl might be made of iron, because it showed some reddish rust spots on the side, but it appeared enameled with a black and shiny interior. Unfamiliar markings surrounded its rim.
“So. First lesson. I will start with a question: have you ever seen a bright dust addict?”
“Sure. Last year, Paleface Tom came in to the shop and he tried to stab Truthful Harry to try to get some money. It was so weird, because Paleface had been a Morrow for awhile, Truthful Harry was his friend, and Paleface never seemed like he was a fighter or anything. Really, he behaved himself most of the time. Better than some of the other Morrows. Paleface didn’t beat the employees, and he never even tried for a freebie before.” Marie sighed. “Anyway, Harry couldn’t keep get ahold of him, and Dinky had to come. They both grabbed him, and got the knife away from him, but Paleface bit Dinky. Dinky didn’t like that.”
Marie thought about the hot rage she’d seen in Dinky; and Paleface just seemed completely wild and screaming wordlessly. Marie had a lot of nightmares after, and Mama hadn’t even scolded her about it.
She continued, “Paleface wasn’t very big, but he kept trying to hurt Dinky and Harry. They couldn’t even grab him. He was super strong and Dinky had to hit him until he stopped moving. The coppers came and made us tell about what happened, and Dinky didn’t even get in trouble. Later, they said Paleface was on bright dust.”
Poe blanched.
“You saw …” Marie nodded. Poe continued, “That was much worse than …” He stopped himself from pointless commentary, and he worked back around to the topic. “So, bright dust makes the people that use it feel invincible. And, it’s not all a feeling; they become stronger, they move faster, they don’t feel pain. They also can’t feel right from wrong, can’t feel empathy, and become irrationally violent. And once the user has felt like that once, they want that feeling again, over and over, until they only want the drug and nothing else.”
“And? Mama has told me not get mixed up with stuff like that. You couldn’t … You wouldn’t want me to do that do you?”
“What? Myrddin no! I’m trying to explain.” Poe rubbed his face with a hand. “So, the minimum you need to cast magic is a conduit for the magic to flow. Almost anything can be a conduit. But, I want to start this lesson by explaining one the chief dangers of magic: Never. Use. Yourself. As. A. Conduit.” Poe looked at Marie meaningfully.
“What happens if you do?”
“It’s something like bright dust. You will never want to stop casting spells. You won’t stop until you are dead or are an aberrant. Bright dust addiction is actually better; you can treat someone addicted to bright dust. There’s nothing you can do for someone who cast magic using their body as a conduit. You would be better getting addicted to bright dust and having your friend bash your head in than ever cast magic through your body.”
“I think I understand.”
“I am not so sure. Let’s use an example. Have you ever been afraid?”
“I mean, sure, I guess. Scary things have happened at … home, you know, people got hurt? A spider jumped on my hand once and it scared me for a second.”
“Have you ever been afraid that you’d burn up in a fire?”
“I guess. Fire is pretty scary.”
“Would you ever jump in a fire?”
“No.”
“Not even to save your Mama?”
“Well, I might to save Mama.”
“What if you knew the fire would kill you if you jumped in, would you still do it?”
“Would it save my Mama?”
“No.”
Marie knew what the right answer was. She’d try anyway. That had to be the right answer, wasn’t it? It’s your mama. You do whatever it took to try to save your mama, wouldn’t you?
“I guess I’d try.”
“Marie, you are a credit to your Mama. But, this is the problem with channeling magic through your body: If you jump into that fire, you will die. The heat and flames will burn you until there is nothing left. Worse, casting magic without a conduit is also like Bright Dust: you wouldn’t even care about your Mama anymore. You could be standing right next to her in the fire, and you’d just rather burn than save her.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You need to know it.” Poe lowered his voice. “Horrible things happen to people that choose, even for an instant, to channel magic through their bodies. They poke out their own eyes to see better. They cast magic to fly and never come down. They’ll try to raise the dead, even if it’s futile, and sacrifice themselves to try to make it happen. They’ll open portals to the elemental planes, jump through, and never be seen again.”
Poe did not relent, and he moved his face quite close, eyes boring into her. Poe delivered this explanation softly, whispering it. “And, they become aberrants: creatures of magic that propagate a single magic effect. A creature that turned every living thing it touched into gold: animals, plants, insects, their friends, family, children, anything! Then, surrounded by the golden dead, it sought out other living things to turn into gold. One propagated a fog of toxin that killed only people, then those that died turned into more of the fog, killing endlessly. One man turned himself into a tree; those that saw it unprotected would dream of bliss living under its golden canopy, but they would never wake up.” Poe sighed. “The Red Guard protects us from these monsters. But don’t forget, they all start as people, and you never want to make the mistake of casting through your body or you can become one too.”
As each story grew more terrifying, Marie began to wonder how they managed to live in world with magic at all.
“Do you understand Marie?”
She nodded.
“So. If you are to perform magic, what do you need first, before all other things?”
“A conduit.”
“And if you have nothing to use as a conduit?”
“I … won’t cast magic.” Marie replied, a bit wide eyed.
“That’s right.” Poe leaned back and brought out from his coat a piece of cerelium the size of a cherry stone. It was utterly clear, like a perfect piece of glass. But it wasn’t cut or shaped in any way. “This is your first conduit, Marie. You need larger and larger conduits as you practice, but your first spells will be small, so you don’t need much.”
Marie opened her hand and he dropped the shiny stone onto her palm. She wrapped her fingers around it, and rubbed her thumb across the surface. It felt smooth, but not regular. It also felt heavy for its size, but she might have been imagining it.
“You have the first piece of modern sorcery: a conduit. Practical sorcery requires three additional things: Will, Word, and Sacrifice. Let’s do a very simple spell.” Poe dig through his pockets and found a silver coin, a black piece of a raven’s beak, and a berry that looked like it was a blueberry, but was yellow and shimmered whenever you squeezed it.
He then pulled out dividers with a pair of sharp ends, metal straight edge, and a piece of hard chalk.
“First we’ll mark out the spell array.”
Marie now understood why the geometry lessons were in the book.
Poe showed her how to lay out a circle using the tools, and showed her how to mark it with a perfect triangle. He used the chalk to outline and draw more circles and connected them with lines, and the showed her her first simple spell array. Then he put all the pieces at their proper places. While he did, he described the magical effect they were going to get.
“Centuries ago, hunters would call animals to them so that they could trap an eat them. So, they’d call the animals with birdsong or other tricks. We’re going to do that now. This doesn’t summon animals, or compel them, or anything so extreme. This just attracts their attention, and they come and look.”
Marie nodded. “So, this spell convinces animals to do what you want?”
“No. It makes sound. Playing with the minds of creatures is a different, difficult, and sometimes forbidden magic. It’s Blood magic more often than not. There is also the magic of Witches and Animism, Shamans, and other things to connect with animals, but those aren’t practical sorcery.” Poe shrugged. “Some sorcerers might talk about how modern magic is better. And, it can be. But. Do not discount the old magics; good sorcerers study modern magic and understand it’s aspects to the fullest. Great sorcerers understand the history of magical practices as well. Take Master Lacer for example …” Poe paused at Marie’s confused look.
“The Professor that came into the Agency? Is he good or something?”
Poe sputtered a bit. “You’ve never heard of Thaddeus Lacer?”
“Not really. Should I have?”
“How can you not … ” Poe muttered, but then seemed to think better of the question.
Marie wasn’t sure what the problem was. She’d never really cared about magic before. It wasn’t that odd to see a wand here and there, and the laundry at the parlor had some enchanted stuff, but who could keep track of specific sorcerers? Most of the ones she knew were on the wanted posters.
“Anyway,” Poe said, “my point is, someone doesn’t become an Archmage without knowing a lot of different magics. This particular spell will transfer heat into sound. I’ll try to teach you several spells that transfer minor amounts of different kinds of energy into other types of energy: heat, light, sound, force, magnetic attraction and so on. That way you can learn some basic exercises that will improve and strengthen your will.”
Marie could only nod. She wondered what “magnetic attraction” was, but it seemed like Poe was in his stride.
“Now, tell me what you know about sound.”
Marie thought for a moment.
“Uh, if I cover my ears, sound isn’t as loud? Musical instruments make sound by hitting or bowing a string, and people make sound by singing and that sort of thing …” She felt a little dumb. Was there more to know about sound than that?
“Excellent. You already know the most important part of sound. We hear with our ears. What we think of as sound is actually vibrating air. Examinations have shown that inside our ear is a tiny, tiny drum that vibrates sympathetically with the moving air, and a tiny little snail-shaped structure that transfers these sounds to our brain, which processes the sound into what we hear. If we cover our ears, or stuff them with out fingers, or cotton, then we don’t hear anything, because we’ve blocked the vibrations. Sound is just our mind’s interpretation of the vibrating air. Follow me so far?”
“But, how will magic make the sound?”
“In a way, the same way that we sing. Have you studied the chapters on music in the primer?”
“Yes. I’ve covered string instruments and singing.”
“So, when singing, the vocal chords in our throat vibrate as the air moves past them, and we change the shape of our airway, tighten and loosen the chords, and change the shape of our mouth to make the different pitches and sounds.” Poe grinned. “It sounds impossible to describe it, but we practice our whole lives to make these sounds, so it’s thoughtlessly easy.”
“But, what does sound have to do with magic?”
“If you want to make a sound like a raven, you need to understand that your spell is going to mimic the vibration of that you would make if you were a Raven, breathing in the air, and pushing it out through your craw to make the sound. Let me show you the parts of the spell array.”
Marie thought Poe had been pretty detailed so far, but as he explained the parts of the spell array, how the comments symbolized the Raven and the sound a raven makes, she realized that he had just barely begun. He talked about power requirements, will, and components, and the difference between glyphs and words (which this spell array used both). He also explained how it wouldn’t be safe to cross the boundary of the array and how heat from the air would power this magic. After a great deal of explaining, he finally imitated the “kraa’ sound with his voice.
Poe then guided Marie through the her very first spell. She took some time to finally capture the sense of demanding that the spell work: just willing it to happen. There was a sense of touching without using her fingers, or maybe tasting with eating, or seeing without opening her eyes. She was moving the magic through the spell array with the conduit and her thoughts alone.
“You have to want it Marie.” Poe whispered to her. “Like you want nothing else. Like all you ever wanted was to make the sound of a raven. That’s what using your will is like. It’s pure, refined intent.”
Activating the spell array, out of nothing, came a strange “kraa” that was deep and foreboding. It was real, like a raven, unseen, just a pace away. And, it was much louder than Marie expected, like the sound wasn’t just heard, but that it penetrated her chest and rumbled in her bones.
“Very good Marie! Very very good.” Poe exclaimed.
Marie felt a thrill at his praise. She did it!
“Oh.” She sighed. For as good as it felt to accomplish the spell, Marie felt very tired. She thought she’d slept ok, but she craved a nap.
“Now rest a bit. This is your first time casting magic, and it takes energy. Your Will gets used up, and right now, you don’t have much to start with. If you try to use more than you have, you’ll get more than tired. You’ll have headaches to start, then dizziness, irritability, irrationality, unconsciousness and death. You’ll be careful then, to not cast? To only cast at the start in my presence?”
Marie nodded her agreement.
“I’m going to take a moment to select an offering to Frigg.” Poe seemingly felt around inside his coat. Marie couldn’t tell how many pockets it had, but it seemed like a lot, given how much rummaging he seemed to be doing. Finally, he pulled a moth from his pocket.
It was alive and he nearly dropped it.
“What the … ?” Poe recoiled.
“Looks like you need to clean your coat more often.”
“I assure you, my coat is perfectly clean.” Frank held the moth between his fingers, and it beat its wings against them. “Now, where did you come from?” He asked it. It didn’t seem to have an answer for him.
“Do ravens eat moths?”
“Good question. I will answer with what I know: I have never seen a raven eat a moth, and I have never read or heard that ravens eat, specifically, moths.”
Marie considered this answer for a moment.
“But, that doesn’t tell me if Ravens eat moths. Why don’t you just say ‘I don’t know’?”
“Because it is fundamentally difficult for anyone to admit they don’t know something, and I don’t like it when I don’t have an answer.” Pow hummed a bit as the moth struggled in his hand. “Let’s do an experiment. Ravens eat many things; and, being a bird, many birds eat bugs. Using this general idea, I’m going to guess that Frigg will eat this bug if offered. I’ll put it in the bowl, and then we will test.”
“Won’t it just fly away?”
“No.” And the moth stilled in Poe’s hand. He gently placed it inside the bowl. Defying all of Marie’s experiences with moths, it stayed there, crawling around inside the bowl.
“By the way, if Frigg eats the moth, will we have proven that ravens eat moths?”
“Yes?”
“No. We will have proven that Frigg ate this moth. And if Frigg doesn’t eat the moth, what then?”
“Um. That Frigg didn’t eat this moth?”
“Yes. In that moment Frigg chose not to eat the moth, and we won’t know exactly why not. Whatever she chooses, we won’t generalize yet. After many experiments and observations, eventually we’ll know. But not with the first observation.”
Black wings streaked into view over their shoulders, and a huge black raven knocked over the bowl, then the moth fluttered away. It pranced back and forth, then stared straight at Poe, then gave a very definite “Kraa.”
Seemingly agitated at the bowl, it pecked at it, then twisted its head to get a good look at the bowl and then Marie, then flew onto Marie’s shoulder. Marie squeeked, and she tried to stay very very still.
Marie’s heart was pounding.
She’d never been this close to a raven before. Frigg seemed bigger than the ones flying over the city. But maybe it was the fact that the Raven’s sharp beak was inches from her face. It’s talons bit into her cloak, but didn’t seem to be gripping very hard. Marie turned her head slowly and tried to take in the bird.
Frigg’s feathers looked like a black rainbow in sunlight. She was beautiful
“Ah.” Poe said.
“Um. Master Poe?”
“Welcome Frigg. This is my apprentice, Marie.” Poe slightly bowed his head.
The Raven fluffed Marie’s hair with her sharp beak, then she hopped off Marie’s shoulder and strutted back and forth between Poe and her. Marie wasn’t sure how you were supposed to greet a Raven. If Poe was planning on explaining, he hadn’t gotten to that part yet. So, she settled on a compliment. After all, wasn’t that the best way to make a first impression?
“What clever hunter you are!” Then, Marie realized that the Raven had her brass cloak pin grasped in its talons. “And, you are also a cunning thief.” Marie concluded wryly.
Marie wasn’t sure if she should try to take the pin back or not. Poe interrupted her before she could do anything about it.
“Frigg. I had a question about a boy …”
“Kraa. Kraa!” Frigg replied.
Poe took this pronouncement gravely, frowning and furrowing his brow a bit.
“Calder says he’s cursed.”
Frigg nodded. Or, that’s what she seemed to have done. How could a bird understand him?
Frigg looked at Marie for a long moment.
“Kraa.” Frigg said quietly. She picked up the cloak pin in her beak, and she flapped he wings and landed, again, on Marie’s shoulder. She bumped her head against Marie, then she pushed heavily off Marie and flapped up and away, whirling and flying back off toward the mires with Marie’s cloak pin still in her possession.
“So.” Poe said after watching Frigg fly off. “That was interesting.”
“She didn’t eat the moth?”
“No.”
“She stole my cloak pin?”
“Yes.”
“I need another one.”
“Yes.”
“What was that about?”
“Magic. But a very specific kind. It’s called Augry, and most diviners use it with groups of animals, or clouds, or similar.” Poe replied. “We can read out hints of the future through augury, but what we really get is an image of the shape of the present. It’s like looking at the bottom of a canal and trying to see the fish through the murk. Frigg’s behavior gives us hints, if we can understand them, into the future. It’s part of the magic.” Poe smiled. “She likes you, for some reason. I didn’t think she wanted me to take you as an apprentice, but it seems like that’s because I’m not good enough for you.”
“She stole my cloak pin. What’s that mean?”
“She likes cloak pins.” Poe answered. Marie felt this did not explain anything. But, she wanted to be a good apprentice, so she didn’t challenge it.
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Finished drafting this today. It’s too long, but hey! It’s progress:
[edit] I had to fix some things. Its not a big deal, but this needed at least a check for typos. I’m publishing chapters over on Royal Road, but it lags behind this forum’s posts. Those chapters may be moderately more polished than these (but I still consider them drafts).
Aslo, do people like “reckoned” or “figured” better for stating conclusions? BTW - “concluded” is a latin root and boring, so that’s not my preference.
Chapter 9:
People like a good story.
Month 12, Day 3, 12:00PM
Frank reckoned that was a productive morning.
But. He regretted offering the moth.
Frigg correctly rejected it. As with many choices that would cause unintended effects, offering the moth had seemed good in the moment. Upon reflection, it was a poor choice to represent a young boy, even if he was cursed. Moreover, the moth may have seemed a little like an offering of food. Frigg was no pigeon, begging for scraps. She might consent to some offering of food outside the ritual … but to offer food during it? Frank felt lucky her reaction was not more violent.
And, Frigg’s reaction surprised Poe so much that he hadn’t even introduced Marie properly.
He was lucky that the introduction had gone as well as it had.
But, he wasn’t his most in tune with the world right now. There could be other reasons for Frigg’s reaction. He’d have to keep an open mind.
Stealing the cloak pin was another matter.
This shocked Frank. The Raven never stole from him before. Their meetings were exchanges; he offered, and Frigg either accepted (or not). But. Marie had not offered it. The theft suggested that the Raven had some specific use for the cloak pin.
‘Now what?’ Frank wondered. He wouldn’t see the boy for at least a day or two. He was cut off from magic, and he’d completely forgotten to ask Frigg about the Stags. They were, at least for now, the most likely source for information. And, he didn’t know nearly enough to know whether contacting the Stags would would be sailing too close to the wind.
They climbed down the roof, and Frank found his headache was still very much present. Healing potions could only go so far. His tea had also helped, but it’s slightly soporific effect has already worn off.
When they reached the office, Frank retrieved a small blank volume out of his component chest to give Marie to start as a student’s grimoire, and finally returned his heirloom conduit to the chest with the beast core. He had a thaumaturge-created diamond rated at just over a thousand thaums that he kept tucked in a pocket. If he needed to bring out the family heirloom for an ordinary investigative work, something would have gone so wrong that magic wouldn’t get him out of it. Besides, it was just unnecessary temptation.
Frank retrieved his glasses, and put them on. The world always looked a little better through the amber glass, but it never became any better.
Frank discarded that thought. Will strain made him melancholy and cynical.
Preparing to leave, and standing in the outer office next to Marie’s table, Poe found himself wondering if he should invite Marie, or leave her behind for safety sake. But, it was the middle of the day; hardly the time of day when hardened gang members prowled the streets. Bringing her ought to be safe enough.
The curse was an ever-present problem. He couldn’t count on Lord Stag to be immune.
“How do you feel about the Verdant Stag?” He asked.
Marie shrugged. “They are dangerous, and Mama doesn’t like them. They took some territory from the Morrows, and that didn’t go over well with some of the bosses.” Marie looked pensive for a moment; she showed reluctance to tell Frank too much about the Morrows. “The employees working at the massage tables don’t like it that the Stags seem to be running the Silk Door, which is a classy place, and a sort of competitor.”
“I am familiar with it.” Poe nodded. Marie cocked her head at him. Then Poe felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “From a job! not … I would never …”
“Yeah ok.” Marie rolled her eyes and gave a little tut of exasperation. “But, anyway, the pay is maybe a little better over there, and I know some of the fellas working there because they were independent and switched over. Some people thought we lost customers. Madam didn’t seem too worried though, and our books were fine.”
Poe tried to ignore that topic. Marie had learned to read and write from the proprietor of the parlor, and had even been taught enough to be a sort of greeter. Marie was, in a manner of speaking, more prepared for this sort of thing than he was. Frank Poe admitted to himself that he was thoroughly naive when it came to the non-magical underworld.
“Will there be an issue if we visit the Verdant Stag together?”
“No. I’ll just wear my cloak with the black side out. I don’t think I’ll be made for a member of the Morrows or anything. But, I’d like a cloak pin for it. I can twist and tie it and things, but its more comfortable with a pin. Do you have one I can borrow?”
“I can buy you one just around the corner. There’s second-hand shop.”
Frank strode out into the street with Marie following. A few years ago, Frank would have made the pin with a bit of transmutation. Now, even without will strain, he wouldn’t do that anymore. Building an untested spell array for such a frivolous task may have expanded his will, but he couldn’t justify the risk of untested arrays in his current condition.
This close to the mires, there wasn’t much in the way a jewelers. But, around the corner was a junk shop that should have at least a penannular cloak pin. The shop had a pair of green antlers carefully painted in the corner of a window, but otherwise seemed to be what one would expect: a run-down secondhand shop, buying low from whoever brought in a trinket to sell, and selling high to whatever member of the browsing public it could attract.
They ducked into it; literally, in Frank’s case, because the doorway was unusually short. They paused for a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the low light. Frank didn’t remove his glasses, even if they did make the room a bit more dim than it actually was.
The shop had racks of second-hand clothes, trays of junk, and dusty second-hand household goods. Marie wandered into the racks. Frank stepped to the counter to see if he could get service.
Frank frowned. The pair of shopkeepers at the counter seemed to resemble vultures. Their eyes were taking in those that were weaker, and perhaps more desperate to buy. When they saw Frank, he had the impression of circling a dead animal. He just knew that he was going to be overcharged.
“Feel free to browse, my Lord.” The greyer, and more senior of the two, said with an entirely too obsequious bow.
“Not a Lord. Show me to your cloak pins.”
“Yes of course, sir.”
And then Frank had the opportunity to see a tray of bejeweled cloak pins that were both ugly and fake. It was intolerable. Except, Frank had to admit he wasn’t the young member of a crown family any more. What offense should he take, really? No proper Lord ought to be caught anywhere near this establishment.
“Hmm.” Frank gazed over the selection. Marie had been browsing the clothes, and she came over to view the tray with him.
“Ah sir! Is this your … lady?” The salesman struggled to discern the relationship, and failed.
“No.” Frank and Marie responded simultaneously.
“Which one would you pick, if you wanted one?” Frank asked her. Marie looked at him quizically.
‘Right.’ He thought, ‘she’ll want something black.’
“Do you have anything in black?” Frank asked the shopkeeper. Marie nodded to him.
“Yes, sir. Of course.” And he returned with a tray of more normal cloak pins and broaches, with several black pieces mixed in with silver and brass. Frank could tell instantly which one Marie would pick: a jet black penannular cloak pin, but that had two black stones mounted at either end of the broken circle.
“Which one do you like?” Frank asked.
Marie pointed to the one he’d suspected.
“Now, what price for this?” Frank asked the vulturine salesman, lifting the pin from the tray.
“A very fine choice, sir. A very fine mounting in pure silver, with two black wizard-garnets set in it.” The fellow cooed. Frank very much doubted the pin was silver, or mounted with garnets. A garnet that dark practically was indistinguishable from a many lesser stones. The metal, moreover, was almost completely black. If it was silver, it seemed like it had been specially treated to make it black. “With such fine stones, only two gold.”
“One gold.”
“Oh sir, you wound me. Such a low price, it cuts me to the bone.”
“Really? Fine.” Frank dropped the pin, and gestured for Marie to join him as he strode out. Marie reluctantly followed. They stopped just out of view of the shop windows.
“Marie. Don’t sulk.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Give me your cloak for a moment. They’ll never give us a fair price if you’re wearing a cloak that needs a pin. Here’s a crown coin. Go back inside and negotiate a better price. You can keep the change.”
Marie gave Frank her cloak, and reentered with a determined look. Frank lurked by the shop door, hoping to catch snatches of the conversation.
“How can I help you?” This time, the same salesman gave no bow. Frank put that down to his flamboyant clothes. Only someone very rich or vain, or perhaps both, would dress as he did. Either way, Frank always looked like a payday for some retail salesman. The clothes never seemed to work to make him memorable, but he had bought them, so he reckoned that he should keep wearing them.
“Just browsing for a pin.” Marie made a show of looking at the trays the man had left on the counter.
“Of course.” The man paused, and looked at her. “Do you know, you look a little like the Raven Queen?” Frank couldn’t see her expression, but he imagined it was less friendly than when she met with clients at the Agency.
“If I was the Raven Queen, do you think I would be in a junk shop?”
The man stiffened. “My shop has only the finest second-hand goods.”
“Of course.” Marie said scathingly. “Look at these cloak pins.” Marie pointed at one in the tray. “Bent. Made of pot metal and gilded to look better.” She selected another one. “This one’s gems are just colored glass.” Then she picked up her target, the black cloak pin. “Ugh. With such poor selection, I’ll just make do with this one. It’s got to be the cheapest of the lot, with how ugly it is.”
“Can I say though, it matches your hair?”
“It’s black, duh. I’ll pay three pennies for it.”
“No, I couldn’t sell it for so little.”
“How much then?”
“It really is a fine piece; very sturdy. It will last you a lifetime. Worth at least 100 times that; those are garnets you know.”
“Black river-stones more like.”
“I assure you, they are quite genuine. Wizard-made. I couldn’t part with it for less than a half crown.”
Marie moved to put it down, giving the impression of reluctance. Frank was impressed that she’d give up the negotiation; she had enough money for it. Perhaps she’d shift to a different pin. He was wrong.
“These are all so terrible. I guess I’ll have to walk up to Knute’s and buy a proper cloak pin …” She weighed the black pin in her hand for a moment. “Quarter crown? Just so I don’t have to bother with the walk?”
The vulture smiled. He thought he had her. “Well, perhaps if you were to buy a cloak to go with it?”
“Hmm. Perhaps a shawl. Do you have anything in black?”
It turned out that he did.
Frank watched with astonishment as, for less than a third of the shop’s offer to him for a single pin, she returned with a paper wrapped package with both a dress, a shawl, and the dubious cloak pin. Marie, ever sharp to his expressions, cocked her head at him.
“What?” Marie asked.
“Didn’t think you’d do so well.” Frank replied.
“Hmm. Do you think they are actual black garnets?” She asked.
“Not likely. That fellow is no jeweler.” Poe replied. “I can check them later.”
“You know, he seemed to have no memory of me at all.”
“You didn’t say anything to him while in my presence. There was nothing concrete for him to remember.”
“But he saw me?”
“If I entirely understood how the curse worked, I’d have gotten rid of it by now.”
Frank had Marie return to the Agency to leave her new clothes behind. Frank moved back to the corner as Marie strolled back.
While he waited, Frank’s headache finally got the better of him. He filled his sky-kraken pipe with more of the soothing kinninnik, and lit it with one of his small enchanted fire-lighters. It was a clever little metal stick that, when withdrawn from it’s brass and nickel case, would be red hot for a few moments. Holding the pipe in his right hand, first finger extended to support it, he touched the hot end to the kinninnick, then he drew the smoke into his mouth, and blew it out in stream.
The smoke slowed the pounding in his head, eased the tension in his shoulders, and helped is arms relax. Taking another draw, he entertained himself by blowing a few grey smoke rings, and watched them slowly swirl and dissipate.
Marie returned, with her cloak pinned in place, the black pin glittering. Maybe they were gems after all.
If she objected to the smoke, she didn’t say anything.
WIth the new cloak pin sorted, they walked to the heart of the Stag’s territory, the Verdant Stag.
The Verdant Stag gathered folk from all over the city, at all times of the day. To call it an inn would be a disservice to its varied services: entertainments and music at night, a varied and liberal bar service, affordable public and private rooms for travelers, and reasonably priced food that attracted workers from both the low-income and the nicer parts of the city. Most of all, the common room was clean and the kitchen honest: no mystery pie or watered wine.
Frank Poe suspected that as the center of criminal organization, the Verdant Stag had a rare reputation: scrupulous honestly for its patrons. You knew what the bargain was, and they would enforce it.
On the other hand, if you took out a loan that was beyond your means and someone stopped by to collect with a certain amount of prejudice, well … that was hardly the Verdant’s Stag’s fault, was it? If they served lunch in a private room where a local business would buy the trinkets and baubles that came into the possession of disreputable characters, who could say that the seller wasn’t the true owner? If the Stag had to bribe an official, collect interest, procure special goods, or steal some information, wouldn’t that just be getting their fair due for running a business under the oppressive and unreasonable Crowns?
Frank knew the Verdant Stags. When Frank first opened the August Agency, a clean shaven, steely-eyed man, bearing the mark of the green antlers on his shirt, had stopped by. The man encouraged Frank to visit the Verdant Stag, seeing as how independent businesses such Frank’s would be able to make important contacts with local interests.
Frank declined. Later visits were less polite.
Eventually, after a few pointed conversations with the antler-festooned youth that hung about his door and discouraged the Agency’s potential customers, Frank made a deal. The Stags could either move along, or they could visit the healer regularly for the oozing foot sores that got worse every day that they stood within view of the August Agency. Frank’s curse made these conversations more difficult than it should have been, but the sores lasted, so the cause eventually stuck in the teenager’s minds.
This then, was Frank’s first visit to the Verdant Stag’s heart. But, he knew who to ask for: Lord Stag.
Frank and Marie stepped through the front doors of the sprawling inn, past the sign of the green stylized antlers, and sat at one of the communal tables.
Poe didn’t stop smoking; one of the interesting features of the Stag was that they paid for an air-clearing enchantment. It kept his smoke from settling around him. Thus, the air at the Verdant Stag was always sweet and clear.
Marie sat beside Frank at the long table, and near some other patrons who were tucking into a noon repast. A waiter stopped by and wrote down their food order. Frank made his request—communicated through Marie—to speak to Lord Stag, if he was available.
Frank sat and soaked in the rumor and gossip of the lunch goers. It was much the same as the Morrow’s. Would the Stags retaliate? No one was sure. Why did the Raven Queen make an appearance? Some sort of bargain. But the stories were also very interesting for other reasons.
The Raven Queen developed implausible powers: She was able to change shape into a raven and fly. If that was too slow, she could also step through the shadows and appear anywhere she was needed. She had access to the mythological plane of Darkness, and had summoned a familiar from there, which could invade the mind and cause madness. Or perhaps she was a creature from the plane of darkness herself; trapped away from her home. She was made of shadows, and the light hurt her.
She had been performing implausible feats: Her theft from the University vaults, traveling to and from her destination through shadows, was just the beginning. For example, Lord Stag joined her in a flight through the shadows to appear in the tower during the fight at the warehouse. When she reached the top of the tower, she cast powerful radiant magic and sent bolts of brittle light at their enemies. After defeating the villains who attacked the innocent workers, she treated and healed the wounded with blood magic and demanded their blood in recompense for saving them.
Then, when corrupt and evil Coppers arrived, she summoned the shadows to help the workers escape, and set summoned shadow ravens and a bird-like demon on the Coppers. Of course, the heroic figure of Lord Stag intervened and kept her from taking the souls of all that she saved, and all that attacked her, which spared the corrupt Coppers.
None of these stories were coherent. If she was a creature of darkness, why did she summon bolts of radiant energy? What was she doing with these souls? Maybe none of it mattered, or all of it. After listening for a long time, Marie finally seemed to have decided on a question for Frank.
“Who, or maybe what, is the Raven Queen, do you think?”
“She’s definitely receiving a great deal of interest, isn’t she? Rumors are rarely truth; people like a good story, and the facts tend to sap the life out of a really good story. But, a couple of aspects of the Raven Queen’s story do seem plausible.” Frank thought for a moment and then leaned close to Marie to speak in whisper. “There’s some truths that are hidden in these rumors: One, she’s likely either an employee or and independent contractor with Stags. Two, she has demonstrated flexibility and variety in her magic that is unpredictable to established sorcerers and investigators. Three, the Coppers can’t find her, even after putting a pretty substantial reward. So, what obvious conclusions might we draw?”
“She’s powerful and useful enough to work with the Stags, and she’s creative enough to surprise smart people, and … I’ve lived here my whole life, and while the city is big, someone must know her.” Marie answered. “She has help?”
“Right. Where, for example, does she buy food? Food stalls are anonymous, but not that anonymous; there is a poster of Siobhan Naught next to all the public gathering places. Where does she sleep? Even the homeless know each other. I can’t see a thaumaturge of any kind sleeping under bridges and wearing the tattered clothing of a beggar. Assuming, of course,” Frank said with a laugh, “she is not an eldritch being of darkness who subsists on the light of the moon, sleeps in the dreams of evil men, and bargains with the dead for succor!”
A waitress approached the table, and dropped off the two bowls of food. “Are you talking about the Raven Queen?” She asked them.
“Of course,” Frank replied, “what else is there to talk about?” He set his pipe aside and picked up a spoon for the food.
“I heard she cursed all the Morrows so that if they see green antlers they’ll be paralyzed in fear.”
“Oh?” Frank felt pulled away from his food, curious about what this waitress might have to say. She did work at the center of one of the possible protectors of the Raven Queen after all.
“And, Lord Stag had to promise to find more of her kind to get her help.”
“More of her kind?”
“Creatures of the Fey, obviously. She’s also a special kind of darkness creature, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Frank replied.
“You know that she summoned a monster that threw a squad of Coppers in a canal?”
“Really?” Marie asked.
“Oh yes, I heard all about it from a customer that saw it happen. She raised her hand and the monster jumped out and bowled the whole lot of them off a bridge and into the water.”
“What did the monster look like?”
“It was all red-eyed and black, like ink. And it was blowy-like, you know, like the wind?”
“You can’t see the wind.” Marie replied. Frank approved; that sort of clear thinking was one of the reasons he thought Marie would do well as a sorcerer. The waitress, however, was oblivious.
“But you can see a cloud. It was like a black cloud-thing.”
“So, if you wanted to meet her, how would you go about it?” Frank finally asked.
“Meet her? No no, I wouldn’t want to meet her …” In the midst of the woman’s reply, another customer called to her. “Oh, I need to go. Enjoy your food!” She swirled across the room to a table that had been trying to get her attention for awhile.
“Poe. Can magic do those things?”
“Magic can do almost anything, with enough imagination, time, power, and will. For example, esoteric magic to travel through the earth does exist. But, I doubt we are getting a clear picture … Do you know, the blond apprentice that stopped by the Agency might have been fighting for the Morrows?”
“What?” Marie asked. “Why do you think that?”
“She was injured. No student at the University would stay injured for long, unless they were trying to hide their injury from the school’s healers, or someone else.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Had you seen her in Morrow territory before?”
“No, I’d never seen her before.”
Frank considered. If Marie didn’t know her …
“Would you recognize all the sorcerers working for the Morrows?”
“Well, maybe not all of them. But, a lot of important Morrows stop by Hands, Hearts, and Palms; it’s a perk. Most of the higher ups visit for actual massage or a face cleansing or something; not everyone wants the sex stuff. The parlor doesn’t give out discounts to the street toughs or anything, but a sorcerer would be important enough to be invited to stop by. They’d want us to know who was important and who could get discounts.”
Frank nodded. That confirmed some of his suspicions.
While he and Marie ate, Frank realized that some pieces were coming together; the more he thought about it, the more certain he felt that the the blond apprentice had been in the fight at the warehouse, and probably cut by the Raven Queen’s glass-throwing spell. If so, there was only one reasonable conclusion: Lord Morrow had help from the University.
In contrast, Frank considered Lord Stag’s base of operations, the Verdant Stag: clean staff uniforms, enforcers at the door, expensive smoke clearing wards inside the building, foreign guests, reasonable food, entertainment every night. And, there were other signs that Lord Stag was behaving like a real Lord, with the emergency pulls on the street corners and running businesses to benefit his territories. Like the junk shop, or whatever Lord Stag hoped to start in the warehouse that the Morrows attacked.
Of course, crime may pay, but did it pay so well when the Verdant Stag started, not all that long ago? It occurred to Frank that this fine establishment was supported by a Crown family, a wealthy patron, or … a foreign government. No Crown family would have started a criminal enterprise in the Mires, and there were few wealthy patrons that would be outside the control of the Crowns.
Frank reckoned Osham would appreciate the information Gilbratha’s crime world could generate for them. ‘Best I keep those sorts of deductions to myself.’ Frank thought.
A scarred and dark complexioned man approached the table.
“Sir, if you would follow me, the manager is willing to meet with you.”
Frank picked up his pipe and gestured for Marie to join him.
5 Likes
As enjoyable as always:blush:
What really makes this stand out to me is that we get the perspective of “normal” characters not truly involved in the plot on the events in the books. Yes, we’re told that the Raven Queen’s reputation has reached insane levels, but for the most part, it’s only shown through people like Gera, who actually get to interact with Siobhan on a semi regular basis, and the occasional throw-away comment.
Having actual characters to follow chapter after chapter and see them react to the rumours is something Azalea’s books can’t really do without bloating the story, so your fic really adds to the story <3
It helps that both your MCs are very likable in their own right, too lmao
3 Likes
Thank You! Comments like this keep me going. I’m glad you like the characters! They are already acting like they have a life of their own, which shocked me a bit. I’d read authors say that characters sometimes pulled the story in different directions, but I didn’t believe it. But I get it now.
3 Likes
Haha, I know that feeling😂 I write fanfiction as well, and damn! Characters taking on a life of their own can become a serious problem if you don’t expect it. Well, either that or make the story more interesting—it’s a 50/50 thing, really.
Things become a lot more fun once you learn to plan for it, though😂
2 Likes
Thank you for continuing the story… it’s intriguing and enjoyable reading!
2 Likes
Thanks for reading! This is a little late for my schedule, but I am trying to edit a tiny bit more, and that slows things down. I keep making changes to earlier chapters that you don’t get to see here, because I’m revising for the Royal Road releases. The story is going through a slow patch, which I apologize for, I promise there will be an uptick soon. I hope.
Chapter 10: Blowing smoke rings.
Month 12, Day 3, 1:30 PM
Marie
As they followed the Stag’s enforcer upstairs, Marie wondered how the man would fair against Dinky. Dinky was big, of course, but this man was liquid smooth. He was very likely carrying a battle-wand, and he didn’t waste any motion. He was particularly careful to keep behind Poe and Marie. Instead of leading them, he guided them from behind.
Marie had a bad feeling about this meeting, but Poe seemed oblivious. Or, at lest he acted completely unconcerned, his loping stride unhindered and confident. Marie’s short strides required that she walk double time to keep up.
When they entered an office with a huge desk, Marie expected a man with antlers and a mask. Instead, a woman with red hair occupied the chair behind the desk. She stood and gestured to the two chairs for them to sit.
Poe sat. Marie sat. The red-haired woman sat. The Verdant Stag enforcer stood inside the office, just by the door.
The woman packed a pipe with something, and placed it on a little glass coaster, where she lit it. She took the pipe in her teeth, and took a few puffs.
“Smoke?” She offered an open box of some dried leaves, which looked like a dark blue crumble.
Marie wasn’t sure what to make of Poe’s seemingly new smoking habit; it could be something dangerous, or benign. Since she’d only seen Poe smoking since the Copper station, she assumed his pipe had some sort of medicinal properties. They certainly smelled that way.
“Thank you. Etherwood leaves?” Poe asked.
The woman nodded. Marie knew it from the parlor, some clients liked etherwood leaves to smoke. The parlor would sell a packet to a customer from time to time; there was a supply available that could be delivered to the private rooms. As far as she knew, the leaves just smelled nice to smoke, but her Mama didn’t approve. There were worse things.
“It’s very kind of you to refresh my pipe.” Poe popped the ash from his pipe into a tray, packed his long pipe with the leaves, and lit it with a strange metal stick he’d withdrawn from a coat pocket. “Will Lord Stag be joining us?” Poe asked.
“No, Mr. Poe. We’ll keep this civil, but this is going to be a short meeting.”
“Ah. You have the advantage of me, can I ask who you are?”
“No.” The woman replied. She paused to take a light puff from her pipe and blow a creamy blue smoke ring. “Mr. Poe, let’s be honest. Unless you are here to join our organization, I do not expect we can do any business today.”
“Why not?”
“Sitting next to you is an associate of the Morrows, who lives and works in one of their brothels. Moreover, only a few days ago, you were seen entering the local copper station either as a contractor, or an informant. I don’t know why you brought a Morrow into the heart of our territory, but I can only assume it is to spy.”
‘Spy!’ Marie thought. ‘There’s no way I would spy! And, what’s wrong with my home? It’s not a brothel, or at least, not only a brothel.’ Marie frowned in disagreement. ‘And, I’m not an associate of the Morrows. Not really. Only sometimes. Kinda.’
Marie leaned forward and took in a breath to defend herself, but Poe gently placed his off hand on her arm. Marie looked over at him. He slightly shook his head negatively toward her. She huffed out the breath, and sat up straight and practically vibrated with indignation.
Poe leaned back in his chair, giving all the impression in the world that he was entirely relaxed. Poe, thus seemingly unfazed, continued.
“Since you seem to know we are, you must also know that I am a legitimate investigator. I am here for unremarkable information. This is more of an errand than a real investigation. I have several clients interested nothing more than this: how may they contact Siobhan Naught? If your organization can arrange it, then that is all I need know. I’ll even put my clients in contact with you directly, and we need never speak again. You can judge those clients for yourself.”
“Mr. Poe. I have received reports on your August Agency. People report to me that you tend to poke your nose into places it does not belong, that is, when people can even recall meeting with you. This makes it even less likely that I’m going to talk with you.” The red-haired woman replied. She took the opportunity to blow another pure blue smoke ring.
As sharp as this response was, their verbal sparring didn’t seem to make them tense at all. ‘Was it something in the smoke?’ Marie wondered.
Poe drew smoke from his own pipe, and blew a larger and more perfect smoke ring than that woman’s.
“To facilitate a meeting, perhaps some tribute could be arranged for the Raven Queen? I’m sure my clients would be willing to pay for the opportunity to communicate to her. Isn’t it, after all, the sort of thing a raven might like?”
“You should be more concerned with tribute to the Verdant Stag.” The woman replied. She attempted another smoke ring; it was perhaps larger than Poe’s, but not as circular.
“Alright.” Poe replied. “What do you want? I’m warning you, I am not for hire as a thaumaturge.” Poe sucked on his pipe and blew another perfect smoke ring; this one was easily larger than a handspan. It took a surprisingly long time to fade. Marie wondered how much practice that must have required.
“No?” Despite her seemingly hostile stance, the woman seemed mildly disappointed. “Then … what about confidential information from the Coppers?”
“As you pointed out, I do have some contact with the Coppers. But, I’m sure you have your own informants. I’m not asking for this information on the Coppers’ behalf, and it would hurt my reputation if I did not keep my clients’ confidences. Anything I didn’t learn on my own I’d have to keep to myself.”
“Then this meeting is over.” The woman replied, her lips a flat line.
“Let’s not be too hasty. A one-time information exchange may be possible. You tell me what you want to know, and I’ll decide if its enough to exchange for information on how to contact the Raven Queen. I may know the answer without information from the Coppers anyway.”
The woman gave Poe a shrewd look. “What is Ennis Naught telling the Coppers in Harrow Hill?”
Poe pulled the pipe away from his mouth, then smiled bitterly.
“That is a good question. Sadly, I can neither admit nor deny that I possess that information.” He paused, sighing, “nor can say that I can obtain it for you. Is there some less difficult to obtain information you want?”
“We have no further business. Good day to you, Mr. Poe.”
“Well, I am disappointed.” Frank knocked the ash from his pipe into the tray, then tucked it into his pocket. “Perhaps, if I am able to share the information in the future, we can meet again. I expect to do some work for the Coppers, but I assure you, I am not your enemy.”
“Nor are you our friend, Mr. Poe. Good day.” The woman dismissed them with a bright white smile. Marie thought she looked a bit hungry.
“Thank you for the smoke. Good day.”
As they left the office, Marie began wondering what the members of the Verdant Stag knew about her. It seemed like it would be a weird thing for this woman to recognize her specifically. Something was going on, but Marie wasn’t sure what.
As the enforcer showed them down the stairs of the Verdant Stag, Poe turned to the enforcer for a question.
“Listen, I’m looking for some headache reducer; maybe a pain relieving salve? Would you know a good place to buy nearby?”
“Sure, we sell some here.”
“Good, mind if I take a look?”
The bodyguard took a little while to answer. Marie suspected he was considering whether he needed to ask permission.
“Fine. But don’t hang around.” He replied.
The bodyguard directed them back to the third floor, and took the first door to the left into a tidy room. Inside, colorful glass vials, bottles, and jars were neatly arranged on sturdy shelves. Everything was marked with prices and labels stating their contents. Marie noticed that many of them glowed: purple, red, orange and blue. She’d seen similar bottles at the parlor, although a much more narrow variety.
The shop impressed Marie; especially the prices. They were so low, she expected there was some sort of scam. Colored water with some optical trick, instead of the real potions. She’d seen the accounts at the parlor for buying the standard sorts of slaves and potions, plus a variety of aphrodisiacs. None were as cheap as these.
Marie freely wandered around, looking at the labels. She recognized “fever reducer,” “Abrim’s lung clearer,” and “vitamin booster.” Some she recognized as dangerous. “Beamshell tincture” was one. A masseuse had used it to keep themselves awake during the long night shifts, but had gotten addicted. The Morrows didn’t care so much, but Madam had been furious with the girl. Some labels were mysteries, like “Landrum’s nourishing draught” which she’d never heard of before.
Poe pointed at a jar of salve.
“Is this price right?” He asked the woman managing the little shop. She looked him over.
“For you, the price is double.”
“What? why?”
“This is a service for those that can’t afford it. You, on the other hand, can.” The woman glared at the bodyguard. Marie guessed he was not supposed to bring rich folks around to the shop.
“I am not so rich as that.” Poe protested. Poe tried to look affronted, but Marie could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
“Tell me that you can’t afford to pay.”
“I can pay.” He sighed. “Where do you get them so cheap, anyway? Your marked prices are practically the cost of the potion.”
“You are correct; excepting you, we source them at cost and sell them with only a small mark-up. People around here can’t afford a healer. Lord Stag doesn’t like seeing people suffer.”
Marie got a lump in her throat. She certainly knew that. She found herself unconsciously touching the tattoo on her chest that rested directly over her heart. She blinked. The Verdant Stag were criminals. So why were they so much kinder than the Morrows?
Marie fisted her dress with her right hand. She would not show these people her anger. She wouldn’t. ‘Life isn’t fair, that’s how things are, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Marie thought. ‘You do the best you can, and take whatever chance you can get.’ Poe looked over at her.
“Something wrong?”
Marie gestured to have Poe lean down, so she could talk in his ear.
“Poe, this can’t be right. This has to be a scam.” Marie couldn’t believe they would be so altruistic. Why? When everyone knew the gangs were horrible: never fair, and always looking for advantage.
Poe nodded seriously to her. “Ok, we’ll check it.” Poe straightened and addressed the woman managing the little potion shop. “I’ll take this pain reliever, and some of that ointment for scrapes, and you have some moonlight sizzle, so I’ll take one of those too. Give me a discount for buying a bit extra?”
“I can mark it up more if you like.”
Poe chuckled. He picked up the bottles and placed them in inner pockets of his coat.
‘How many pockets does he have?’ Marie wondered.
Before he put the moonlight sizzle away in a pocket, he shook it firmly, and it glowed nearly as clear and bright as a lamp. He nodded to himself and handed over the money.
Poe allowed the enforcer to direct them out of the Verdant Stag and onto the street.
On the way back to the office, Poe walked leisurely. Whether this was because he was absorbing the information from the meeting, or just tired from straining himself, Marie did not know.
“The moonlight sizzle worked, but these salves have to be fake, right?” Marie asked.
“No. I do not think they are. I will teach you the basis of potion-making, and we’ll make one soon, when I feel up to demonstrating.”
“But, why would they do it? Why sell these potions for so little?”
“Speculation does not suit a detective, or a sorcerer. We should reason from our observations. The moonlight sizzle activated, and works exactly as it should. I don’t know this ‘SS’ mark, but it’s seems fine. And, the fever reducer has the same mark. Thus, we have evidence that Lord Stag cares. What others say is sometimes unreliable, but the woman did say that he cares about people. This then is a possible reason for the cheap potions. There might be other reasons: there are also benefits from giving people a discount on necessities, like affordable healing. They’ll be loyal.”
Poe seemed to think for a bit, before he continued. “If you want to change the world, like ending suffering, you have to start doing it by any means you have. Not everything is a bargain.”
Marie turned over that thought for a moment and then realized what Poe was saying. That couldn’t be right.
“Wait. Suffering? You can’t change things like that. That’s just part of the way things are.”
Poe stepped in front of Marie, and blocked their progress, stopping Marie. He took off his glasses and tucked them into a pocket. He squat down so that he ended up looking up at her slightly. He was still much taller than her. His mismatched eyes were serious, but not angry, when he looked at her. He smelled like the etherleaf smoke and his Kinninnik; to Marie it smelled like smoked woodruff and mint.
“Marie.” He started quietly. “This is important. Know it. It is a Sorcerer’s Will to change the world. We draw a salt circle and change the mundane into magic. Sorcerers embody change in the world. Nothing need remain the same when a sorcerer works their Will. Do you understand that?”
“Yes Poe.” Marie nodded. Poe continued.
“Everything is capable of change. Even those things that seem beyond your personal control. The way this city is organized is the offspring of choices: you choices, my choices, Lord Stag’s choices, Lord Morrow’s choices, and the Crowns’ choices. These choices fit together.” Poe paused, and then glanced around to see if any passerby might overhear. “The Crowns would never admit it, but even the Raven Queen’s choices are changing the city. It’s a matter of making choices to make others’ lives better, or choices that make others’ lives worse. Influence and change people’s choices, and the world will change.”
“Are you saying sorcerers can turn poor into rich people, or make it so that there is no pain?”
“No. I am saying that who suffers, and why, and how much, is influenced by the resources they have, where they get their resources, and how the organizations—especially governments—organize to move those resources through civilization.” Poe’s voice became more measured, and he spoke with careful articulation. “The Blood Emperor sacrificed his people, and blood streamed from the gates of his palace. But, the ancestors of the Crown made a new government after he was assassinated. They did not accept that the Blood Emperor’s way was inevitable. They changed it. But just like sorcery, that kind of change comes only from having the will to change, the components to make a difference, and the expectation that some sacrifice—of energy, influence, secrets, or wealth—are necessary to make it happen.”
“It can’t be that easy!”
“Who said anything about easy?” Poe returned his glasses to his face and stood. “Changing things is always difficult and dangerous. Sorcerers are always changing the world around them. From now on, you are a sorcerer, now matter how new you are to the art. If you work hard, one day you may make the world around you into what you need it to be.”
Poe turned and started walking. Marie ran to catch up. ‘Is the August Agency what he wants to be?’ Marie thought.
“So,” Poe said conversationally. “Let’s have another lesson tonight, and then tomorrow we can report to the apprentice girl that the Stags can contact the Raven Queen.”
“Wait, when did the Stags’ woman say that?”
“The Coppers interrogated Ennis Naught because they want him to lead them to his daughter, and whatever she stole. But Lord Stag does not need this. So, why do the Stags want to know what he is saying?”
“So that they know what the coppers will know about the the Raven Queen?”
“Exactly. If they know what Ennis has told the coppers, then they can pass this information to the Raven Queen so that she may avoid capture. They must know how to contact her, otherwise, why would they care?”
“What about Lacer?”
“Master Lacer.” Poe corrected her absently. “I don’t have enough yet for him. He did want me to find out how to contact Naught, but he also might pay a bonus if I can arrange the meeting.”
‘A bonus!’ Marie thought. ‘Poe might buy some better food.’
————
Do I need to remind everyone that smoking is bad for you? This is another reminder.
Also, if you want to go over to Royal Road and read the couple of slightly updated chapters over there:
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Great ideas in an exciting story. Thanks!
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LOVE IT!!! You really hit your stride with this chapter, Jonathan.
Could I have the reminder every chapter, because the temptation to buy a pack is high. 
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Seriously ALL smoking is bad for you. How Do Herbal Cigarettes Compare To Tobacco? A Comprehensive Review of Their Sensory Characters, Phytochemicals, and Functional Properties - PMC
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Sigh. It’s true. Fascinating study, though.
And don’t worry, I’m not actually picking up a cigarette again. It’s too difficult of a habit to kick. As Poe knows, even smoking the herbal stuff is dangerous.
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Cigarettes are especially evil, and are designed to deliver addiction. This book explains it better than I ever could: A Question Of Intent: A Great American Battle With A Deadly Industry by David A. Kessler | Goodreads
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Hi! It’s another chapter. Some edits since the original post. It’s challenging to keep this story to a once every 5 days schedule. But, I kinda like it. I keeps me writing something.
Chapter 11: There is a Meeting
Month 12, Day 4, 6:00AM
Marie
Marie set out for Hands, Hearts, and Palms in near dark. It was another misty morning, and she couldn’t help but shiver a little bit, even with her ruana cloak held in place with her new cloak pin. Poe’s story of a human-eating mist disturbed her. She kept imagining that the mist around her had malicious intent. But, thankfully, the mist didn’t behave unnaturally. It was mostly just cold and wet.
She wore her new-to-her black dress, which was nearly ankle length. It didn’t show off her boots as well, she thought, but it did have several pockets in the seams. Probably the dress was meant for mourning or a funeral. The cloth and stitching was finer than usual stuff even at a used shop, and she’d gotten a deal on it in part because of its small size.
People underestimated Marie’s age; that was fine. But she definitely wished she was taller. She didn’t know many other girls her age, but she thought she should be at least 3/4 the height of a doorway, and she still was only 2/3 of it. She also thought she should be getting “womanly” as her Mama called it, and that wasn’t really happening either.
It was something to think about, when walking to the parlor. No particular reason to be anxious, growing up would happen eventually. Maybe in another year.
She was looking forward to talking to Mama and seeing everyone. Even if they would be tired. Living in a 24-hour business and sleeping in a single room with a dozen other women and her Mama was a lot different than sleeping alone. Marie’s new room possessed a stifling quiet that she still found unsettling; like the mist, it was an ordinary thing but was seeming unnatural without time to get used to it.
‘Do all rich girls sleep in a room by themselves?’ Marie thought. ‘What must it be like to grow up that way?’ Marie was used to people, and now she oddly craved the company.
Not that she expected to see much company. Early morning wasn’t a busy time for Hands, Hearts, and Palms. The regulars were, however, still usually around. Mama worked hardest for the couple of hours after the rush left: cleaning floors, servicing the padded tables, changing cloth, organizing the cleaning for the daytime, and getting the laundry sorted and stored. It might not be the luxury of the Silk Door closer to the nicer parts of the City, but not all the Morrows were running cheap whorehouses.
What little luxury Hands, Hearts, and Palms had, the parlor never closed. In part, this was because they had a few rooms for overnight stay for patrons to sleep off the effects of any intoxicants; these beds did come with, of course, by-the-hour charges. During daytime, wealthier customers also visited for standard massage, hot rock treatments, cosmetic tinctures, facial treatments, and the occasional not-entirely-legal glamour.
The parlor also did some business with ladies who wanted a discrete place to meet a paramour while the husband worked through the day. One wouldn’t want to accidentally meet a husband during a visit to the Silk Door for their own tryst. So, there were customers for all hours of the day, and its door never closed.
Or at least Marie thought the parlor never closed. She appeared mistaken, however, because when she arrived, the parlor was definitely closed. The front door wouldn’t budge when she tried to open it, and knocking did not seem attract anyone inside.
She anxiously headed for the back door. It smelled a little of iron and sour vomit in the alley, but it was dim and she couldn’t make out any detail. The back door was locked. When she knocked, Dinky opened the door.
“Miss Marie.” He rumbled. “There’s a meet’n.”
“What going on?”
“Your Mama will tell you.”
Marie was uneasy. She hoped Mama wasn’t hurt.
She pushed that feeling aside, and followed Dinky to the largest room in the parlor: the laundry. The big washtubs were emptied and stacked away; the portable artifact spell arrays for drying clothes were moved from the center of the floor to the walls; and the tables were folded up and put away,
The employees packed the room, all of them standing facing away from the door. Everyone was sombre and quiet with everyone listening to Madame.
Madame stood next to the wall farthest from the door, speaking in her most serious voice, just a bit louder than normal.
“… was badly injured. We’re not sure if she’ll be back to casting glamours, but she’s probably done with sex work. I’m sure everyone here is sympathetic, but Morrow policy is absolute. If you work off the books in their territory, you take your chances. Everyone clear on that?”
‘Who was badly injured?’ Marie wondered. ‘Was anyone else hurt?’ Marie wormed her way through the crowd so that she could see, and eventually made it to the front. To Marie’s relief, Mama was standing in the corner, apparently unharmed.
Madame continued.
“I don’t want to see any of the rest of you in this position. Don’t go home with clients, don’t work off the books, and don’t wander out alone at night. That’s both girls and boys, got it? There’s some sick f … people out there.” Nods all around. Even the Morrows themselves could be dangerous.
Madame noticed that Marie up front, and she noticeably left off the profanity when she looked in the girl’s direction.
“Ok? Everyone get some sleep. We’re closed for the day; I’ll pay the Morrows their tribute out of my own funds today. I want everyone to get some rest and we’ll open tonight.” Madame dismissed everyone with a nod.
The gathering broke up with everyone chattering about what they’d heard, but Mama and Madame stayed. Because Marie was here to see Mama, she hung around as well. Madame smiled and gestured Marie over to them.
“Marie, so good to see you.” Madame started. Marie figured that Madame wanted something, but she had a more pressing question.
“What happened?”
“It’s Millie.” Mama said. “She … had trouble with a client. Jealousy or just cruel, we don’t know. He broke her legs with a cudgel, and smashed the rest of her up something terrible. She almost died … Can you believe it, she crawled all the way here from her place down the street? But the client was off the books.” Mama hesitated.
“You know how it is, she always thought she could keep independent. Arrogant. I didn’t care, of course.” Madame shrugged. “But, the Morrows healer wouldn’t look after her, so she had to make do.”
“Mille does all the glamours though.” Marie protested. “Couldn’t they have made an exception?”
“She didn’t get beat within and inch of her life for doing glamours; she was … servicing men on the side. There’s policy.” Madame looked grim.
Mama, however, was pale and shaking a bit. How ever bad it was, not much could rattle Mama, so it must have been very bad.
Marie already knew that Millie had been dealt a bad hand of fate, what with the hairlip, a lisp, and coming from a poor family. Such cosmetic problems could be fixed as a child, but they were much more difficult as an adult. Millie hadn’t hidden her occupation, even from Marie as a child.
But Millie was also fascinating, and Marie had had followed her around when she did glamours on the others. Millie wasn’t really a friend, but they were friendly.
“She had to make do with some healing potions and pain reliever. The lender wouldn’t have nothing to do with her to pay for better healing, now that she can’t …” Madam sighed. “I’m probably going to be looking for someone else to apply glamours. Your investigator, what’s his name?”
“Frank Poe.” Marie was pretty sure she knew what was coming next.
“Your Mama told me that you’re learning some magic off him. Do you think he’d teach you how to do some glamour work for us? Or, did Mille teach you enough? It’s not so much about the clients; that was just a side job. What we really need is for some of our people to get a little boost to their natural charms. I’d hate to put them out if they don’t quite have the look that the clients expect.”
‘That explains the smiling.’ Marie thought. Madame knew how to persuade her: suggest that people she knew, some for her whole life, would end up on the street. But Marie was not eager to experiment with magic after learning about aberrants, and she definitely wouldn’t be doing magic without Poe present.
She could also suspected Madame’ next question. There was no way Poe would be persuaded to do glamours for Hands, Hearts, and Palms. He had turned down sorcery work at nearly every suggestion. Now that she’d seen him get hurt helping the Coppers, she could guess he wouldn’t be in any shape to help anyway.
“No. He doesn’t do glamours.” Marie lied a little bit. She knew very well that, as a journeyman sorcerer, he could probably do glamours of all kinds. But, since he wouldn’t, there was no reason to be totally truthful. Madame would just keep asking for something he’d never do.
“Hmm.” Madame replied. “Perhaps after you’ve thought about it. I know this must have been a shock, because Millie is a friend.” Madame patted Mama’s shoulder. “Stella, you might talk to your girl about how important this is for the business.”
Marie and Mama were alone in the empty laundry room. There was an awkward pause after Madame shut the door. Marie breathed in the scent of washing soap and tried to relax the tension in her gut.
“Are you ok?” Mama asked.
“Yes, of course I am.”
“Mr. Poe treats you well?”
“Yes, Mama. I learned my first spell yesterday.”
“What happened to Millie … I don’t want that to happen to you. You don’t have to stay with Mr. Poe.”
“It’s fine Mama. He’s ok.”
“You sure? He doesn’t try to control you? He’s not … doing anything that makes you uncomfortable?”
“I’m fine Mama. Really.” Marie desperately wanted to change this subject. “What about you though? Did you have to carry Millie?”
Mama, who Marie thought was as tough as boot leather, and who had seen some of the worst that working in a brothel could show, had trouble keeping her composure when she explained what happened. Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice quivered. She did not share too much detail, but it was still a horrible story.
Mama was the first to see Millie. Just as the evening rush started, Mama had gone to the back door, because there was some sort of hoarse crying out back. It sounded like an animal, maybe an injured cat, or an eidolon raccoon begging for scraps. Mama found Millie bloody, barely alive, struggling to breathe, just outside the parlor’s back door. Who could tell how far she’d crawled or stumbled to reach apparent safety. She’d been beaten.
Madame brought her in and called for a healer. But when the Morrows’ healer learned a client had beaten Millie, he refused to help. He was too afraid that it would get back to the boss; Lord Morrow was not gentle with those in the organization that betrayed his business policies. Prostitutes in Morrow territory had to pay him a cut, otherwise they would see no protection from him. The healer sold them a healing potion, gave them the name of a witch deep in the Mires outside of Morrow territory, and fled.
Madame, probably also against policy, but more certain in her position, gave the cleaning staff some gold to see Millie to the witch’s place. Mama led them there; they carried Millie on improvised a stretcher.
The man they met was barely trained, and he was reluctant to do anything at all. A side business in minor healing and curses was hardly enough to get Millie back on her feet.
But, after Mama explained what happened, he took their money and cast some healing rituals with his familiar. The shug monkey, which looked like a dog but had an eerie monkey-like face, and a big mane of hair, only possessed a minor healing aspect. It took a several hours before Millie recovered enough to limp, with help, back to her apartment.
Even so, Millie was exhausted, weak, in constant pain, and broken. She’d never walk right again.
Mama was also tired; she had been out all night and what she’s seen frightened her. Marie suspected it was because this could have been herself. Millie has seemed untouchable because of her magic, and how useful she’d been. But, she wasn’t.
They group of cleaners had just returned, and Madame called the meeting to quell rumors among the staff. Mama expected that the day shift would have to do the extra cleaning on restocking to make up for the short staffing that helping Millie caused.
Marie asked if she could go see Mille. But, Mama suggest that Marie give her some space to rest, and visit tomorrow. After hugs, and about an hour of quiet conversation about her day, Marie reluctantly returned to the August Agency.
As the sun rose, it burned off the mist. The shadow of raven wings flashed on the street when Marie crossed into the Stag’s territory. But, when she looked for the bird, there was no trace of it.
………….
Poor Millie. A similar thing happened to a student at my Dad’s trade school in Baltimore. He was alone in downtown Baltimore, coming back from a bar. He was jumped, beaten, and mugged. He crawled around four blocks to the steps of the school—an old hotel—and passed out within sight of the door. It took hours for him to be found. There really are terrible people in the world.
I had to guess a bit on the overlapping timeline for this chapter; this could have happened to Millie sooner, but I wanted some eyewitness accounts. Also, withholding healing seems like something the Morrows would do.
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Still reading, but a typo correction. visitef should be visited.
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Thanks! I found that one right after I posted. I’m going to fix it now.
…
In the course of fixing that error, I found so, so many more. And, I found plenty of awkward language (e.g. looked up to look for). And, I changed the title. Fixing those probably added more errors besides.
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