Oh wow. 4k words. No wonder this was taking so long to write!
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Chapter 32: Unexpected Fortune
Frank Poe
Month 12, Day 12, 8:00 PM
Frank waited at the a corner paved in mud-covered cobbles just outside the Night Market for Canelo to arrive. The grimy Mires flooded regularly, and winter only gave a mild reprieve from the worst of the smell. Frank’s eyes watered while trying acclimate to the acrid smell coming from the gutter. In retrospect, he wished that he’d agreed to meet Canelo on a different corner, one closer to the upper part of the city. He’d committed, however, so, he wasn’t going to renege due to discomfort.
Attending the meeting meant anonymity. Anonymity meant that Frank disguised himself with the practical method of wearing a dark grey, almost black suit, hooded matching grey cloak to cover his hair, leather boots with iron hobnailed soles, and a magical mask to cover his face completely. In other words, clothes that Marie finally approved of. The only color was Frank’s mask.
Lord Stag seemingly preferred an entirely featureless mask with eyeholes, but Poe preferred a mask that would hide his eyes and have some illusory features.
His mask stayed stuck to his face with a subtle magic, and no ties. It had eyeholes that allowed him to see out, but, a thin black fabric stretched over the entire stiff face-covering mask. From the wearer’s perspective, the mask obscured nothing; but, from those that gazed upon it, the fabric hid Frank’s eyes, including their unusual color.
Further confusing the observer, across the surface of his mask, an enchanted illusion showed a pair of deepwater shark’s slitted eyes with ochre sclera, green iris, and dark blue pupils. The illusory eyes rested farther apart than a human’s eyes, giving the mask—and therefore its wearer—an even more uncanny and slightly cock-eyed look.
Frank could deactivate the illusion, or select other images, to make it even more difficult to track the mask to his person. He’d had a crafter make the mask, but he had custom crafted the illusion enchantments.
Poe had carefully chosen all his clothing to be worn only to and from the meetings so only someone following him would know his purpose. In fact, he’d had to exit the August Agency via a rear window to avoid the watchers that either the Stags or the Morrows had placed outside the front entrance. He’d dodged them easily, but he also made sure to double back and check for anyone that might be following him. He was free of prying eyes.
Still, he couldn’t bring his koi coat, or his recognizable pipe, and therefore he did not have access to its built-in spell arrays, so he brought what other protection he was willing to use.
Frank wore a cloak with custom protective enchantments, and he carried his fighting cane. The cane’s maker fashioned the small staff a knuckle in diameter, half his height, and capped both ends in forged and machined iron. The straight-grained, rived, and drawknife carved stick of enchanted mime oak could take sword strike without denting, bending, warping, or breaking. Frank could use the heavy iron ends to break ribs, knock heads, or use the whole stick like a lever to trip or throw an attacker. He could use most of his pipe fighting techniques, and a few specialties of stick fighting as well.
Patrolling night market enforcers gave him some suspicious looks, but even they knew that coppers did not hide their faces. The seemingly unobtrusive enforcers were there to tip off businesses should there be a surprise.
There were plenty of raids on Night Market businesses. The street vendors often had plenty of opportunities to flee if a raid came, but the vendors with physical shops had magical and mundane means to hide the illegal portions of their operations.
While Frank waited, he saw an illegal potion dealer shake hands with dozens of strangers to pass along money and potions. Unless one knew better, you’d think he was just a popular man meeting friends in the street. Except the “friends” left, and the dealer stayed.
Frank grit his teeth under the mask. He hated the potion trade.
So, of course, people approached Frank to buy from his nonexistent stock.
Some of them were masked, so they could have been Canelo in disguise. Except, Poe provided her with a passphrase in advance, and those that hid their faces failed to give it.
Accordingly, he waved all these away. They may have thought he was a competitor, but that would have been the height of stupidity. The corner dealer had a red belt and wore red gloves. No one would doubt that he worked for the Morrows. Red gloves watched each of Frank’s interactions with barely disguised suspicion. The dealer didn’t approach, however, likely because Frank did not engage with any of the addicts that mistakenly tried to buy from Frank.
Frank and red gloves warily watched each other, until a masked woman, approached him around the bend in the narrow street.
“Are you … Po … Fate hides the face of friend and foe alike?”
“Only to those with eyes that can not see the thread.” Poe nodded toward Canelo, who had managed to get password correct. He examined whether she’d improved her clandestine work. She wore dark nondescript clothing and a mask, but she still had a few recognizable features, like her boots. It would do.
“Follow me.” Frank left red gloves behind and lead Canelo to an old warehouse building. He stopped them away from the light, drawing for a close conference in a shadow across the street.
“You brought restricted components to trade, as I suggested?”
“Yes.”
“My payment?” Frank asked. Canelo handed over a bag. Frank opened it and checked the pair of boxes both by looking at the contents and by smelling them. She’d brought the bark from the Fey Alder, Crimson Dogwood, and Silver Orb Weaver bush. No one harvested the Silver Orb Weaver bush’s bark, so he was abusing Canelo’s access to the University’s menagerie to finally get his hands on it. He found that these three in combination worked very well in smoke shaping magics.
“Very good.” Frank nodded and put away the bag on his belt under the cloak. “Let’s get a few reminders out of the way. It was all in my letter, in nice clear numbered list, but if you focus your will and pay attention you might actually remember this conversation. First, I’m introducing you to this meeting. This is your first time, so keep your mouth shut, except for offering those rare components. It’s important that you actually sell them. If you aren’t bringing value to the meeting, you won’t get any of your questions answered. I’ll tell you right now, do not ask about the Raven Queen in this meeting.”
“But that’s why I’m here!” Canelo whispered urgently.
“The Coppers desperately want the Raven Queen. You do not want to be seen as a Copper, understand? Be patient. For this meeting, you need to appear just as crooked as the rest of us, right?”
“Fine.”
“Second, do not ask stupid questions. Let’s review; what’s a stupid question?”
“Asking personal questions? …”
“Close. Do not ask for names or affiliations. Do not ask me any questions, because I will ignore you. Do not ask for any personal details from the guards or the interviewers.” Frank grimaced behind the Mask, and continued with his list.
“Third, you will be interviewed. Answer truthfully. If you lie they will ban you from the meeting. And fourth, Do Not embarrass me. I’ll be sponsoring you, so let’s be clear about this: I am not working for the Coppers, or the Crowns. I’ve my own business at this meeting as well, and I expect you to keep your nose out of it.”
“I can keep quiet.”
“They only allow the use of monikers - no names. You can give one, or not. I go by the Mariner, but only a few have moniker’s at all. I strongly suggest you skip it. They tolerate no violence, and by Myrdin, if you fuck that up, I’ll hide your dead body from the Coppers, the Morrows, and the University myself … if there’s anything left of it. I am not your bodyguard. Clear?”
Canelo swallowed hard. Frank couldn’t see her face under the mask, but he hoped she had her serious face on.
“As my letter said, there’s three parts to the meeting: offers to sell, offers to buy, and then completing the contracts. People gossip before and after, which may or may not be helpful to you. I assume you know how not to be an idiot?”
Finally, Canelo seemed to get some fire, and she balled her hands into fists.
“Listen here, I’m …”
“Going into a situation where you have little experience and thinking you know all the dangers. I assure you: you do not. Now, focus your will on remembering what I just told you. You should have already read it once, except my moniker. I’m not writing it down, and you’ll have to overcome my curse on your own. If you forget my moniker I’m not reminding you. Remember to look at this card if you find yourself confused.” Poe handed Canelo a card.
“It just says, ‘1. Listen carefully. 2. Think carefully. 3. Tell the truth. 4. Give no personal information. 5. Ask no personal questions. 6. Don’t be a stupid fool.’?”
“That’s right. Do that and you’ll be able to come back next time. If I have to, I’ll explain how to find the next meeting if you need me to, but I expect the interviewers will do that.”
Canelo sighed like the barely qualified young adult that she was. Frank ignored her and lead her to the doorway to the warehouse for the meeting. He shared the passphrase, and the guards allowed them in. A few of the members remembered his attendance from meeting to meeting, so he could introduce Canelo as a perspective member and hand her off to be interrogated. She was carefully studying the card as she walked away.
Frank stifled his own sigh. She must have had copious amounts of will, but she failed to have the kind of clarity Marie managed effortlessly. Marie would need training in regulating her will, but Frank still marveled at her outstanding talent. In contrast, Canelo had some talent, and clear ambition, but Frank wondered how she managed to get in this situation with her sponsors at the University.
Frank couldn’t rescue her from her recklessness, even if he wanted to.
While Frank waited for the meeting to begin, other thaumaturges wandered into the meeting space.
Then, the woman arrived. Liza. Everyone knew who she was. Even masked, she was too flashy to be anyone else. She sat and immediately expanded her portable desk, reminding Frank of Lord Stag’s own intimidating power play. She had no authority at the meeting, but she oozed general magical power and ability. In particular, Frank witnessed her deliver on both powerful enchanting and divination at the meetings.
Frank considered himself a qualified, if not a Master-level divination practitioner. But, in his early days away from Haven, he’d lost several divination warding contracts to Liza at these meetings. At first he felt offended, but then he learned the hard truth. She cast better and more sophisticated wards, crafted durable and long lasting enchantments, and she displayed skill far in advance of what an ordinary black market sorcerer could provide. Even though she commanded steep fees, everyone paid without complaint.
Frank knew she warded up her home in the Mires with the sort of magic that made her unassailable. Rumors suggested that she’d even work blood magic for the right price. Frank reckoned she had military-level experience in divination curses.
Frank quashed any jealousy he might have had, and reminded himself of point 6. on his card. ‘Don’t be an idiot.’ Frank thought.
If he had a thousand gold, and she had the inclination, he reckoned Liza could have found the Raven Queen for him, even using the trinkets from Ennis Naught. A bit of blood like the coppers had, and Liza could have tracked the Raven Queen into the mythical plane of darkness if she desired.
His pride and his pocketbook, however, kept him from recruiting Liza in the search for the Raven Queen. He wondered if Liza would take whatever bait Canelo would offer at the next meeting.
Eventually, the interrogation team brought Canelo into the meeting. They were still early, so it took a little time for the meeting to get started.
“Mariner.” A large, somewhat flabby, sorcerer approached him. “Any news to share?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
“I tell you the same thing every meeting.”
“Do you? I don’t recall.”
Frank snorted. The dealer in exotic ingredients was not a weak willed thaumaturge. He never forgot Frank’s moniker, and he never mistook Frank for anyone else. A few others in this crowd that managed to overcome Frank’s curse as well; Liza never spoke to Frank before or after the meeting, but she would use his moniker from time to time during it.
Besides those two, there was one other: an older diviner. She had spoken to Frank on several occasions, and she never forgot a word. If Liza was a tiny queen, this woman was everyone’s kindly old grandmother. ‘And, if I really believe that,’ Frank thought ‘I should find someone to sell me a nice palace on the Wall. Kindly grandmothers don’t attend these meetings.’
Frank noted that the meeting was unusually crowded. Perhaps something valuable had come in, and there were rumors about it. Frank wouldn’t have heard them, even if he wasn’t so busy. Frank wasn’t one thing or another: not a Master who could set up on his own as a thaumaturge, nor a true black market spell caster inside the circle of illegal casters.
This would be his first opportunity to hear magic rumor for some time, but rumors of Millie Parker dominated the conversations. Frank listened.
“Did you hear? Rumor is that Millie went abberrant.”
“I’m surprised. She was a nice girl, aside from being a whore, of course.”
“Don’t you dare judge.” One of the witches growled. “There but for grace go us all. We”re living on the bleeding edge everyday. The Morrows did it for her, what with them turning a blind eye and discouraging honest healers in their territory.”
“I don’t mean no offense to the profession. But, it weren’t the Morrows that cast the spell, was it?”
“She’s a warning to us all.” Another said.
“As if we don’t know well enough. If you turn to untested blood magic when you’re desperate, then you’re just asking for trouble.”
“Blood magic?” Someone scoffed. “What was the effect, some type of lust inducing magic? That’s a far cry from an aberrant made with real blood magic. She made glamours, and not even powerful ones. The Red Guard got it under control pretty quick.”
“A little bedroom magic doesn’t make aberrants.” Another woman said. “She was messing with something beyond her ken, that’s for sure.”
An argument broke out over the spell that Millie had cast. Whether it was one that had been traded before at the meeting, and whose fault it was that Millie had broken.
The conversation continued, making Frank increasingly uncomfortable. Frank considered that there was no point in adding voice to this conversation. He felt sick just thinking about those hours that he’d been under her compulsion. The meeting organizers eventually shut this argument down. Spells shared at the meeting weren’t guaranteed; the buyer took the responsibility casting and reviewing spell array.
Eventually, the meeting began.
The meeting began with offers. A particularly heavily covered, and veiled participant started.
“Music pipes; play them and one becomes supernaturally attractive to the listener, or listeners. Useful in seduction.” The androgynous voice of the offer said.
Frank shivered. He’d have enough of magical attraction for lifetime.
“I note there’s no promise of success here.” Frank said flatly.
“Attraction is just enough to get the attention, the rest you’ll need handle on your own.”
Frank wasn’t interested. And, neither were the other members, with only one bidder, and the robed person rejected it. Perhaps meeting participants still had Millie Parker in mind.
Next, a person offered a Celestial Lycogala, a living sample; restricted because of its flexibility in elemental transmutation and its rarity from over-harvesting, but not impossible to obtain. There was a brief bidding war, but eventually the exotic parts dealer bought it in exchange for a plant part from the plane of air.
Then Canelo. On Frank’s advice, she’d obtained one of the more desirable restricted ingredients.
“Fairy Wings. Harvested within the last two days, and kept in a stasis box. I’m interested in artifacts, information, or interesting magic.”
Frank didn’t want to know how Canelo managed to smuggle those out of the University, but they were well known contraband when he attended.
The diviners and shamans in the room all sat a little straighter. This was the sort of component that let them see into the beyond. Or, at least, conventional theory had shamans use hallucinogenics to separate the mind from the body and grant sight beyond sight.
Not everyone had an interest. Liza just stuck and elbow on her table and rested her chin on her hand. She needed no hallucinogenic crutch for her magic.
“I can offer potions. High grade anti-aging or healing with ingredients from the plane of radiance. Or, if you specify, I can offer a variety of useful potions.” The ingredients dealer offered.
“I’m willing to provide protection artifacts, useful against hostile spirits.” Another offer came.
“I have copies of an unexpurgated Geller’s Compendium of Sympathetic Ingredients. I’m willing to allow you to peruse the volume and make notes. If you prefer, I am willing to part with an unexpurgated history of the Blood Empire, which includes descriptions of their experiments.” Another offered. Frank suspected that one was actually a shaman. In the past, they’d bartered for hallucinogenic items, and they had offered to treat curses using shamanistic magic before.
Canelo seemed unimpressed with the books. Frank reckoned that with access to the library, she had no real understanding of how valuable information could be to this group.
“What sort of artifacts?” Grandmother asked. “I have a prewar battle wand, capable of holding a dozen charges. It’s untraceable. A useful item in these dangerous times.” Frank was a bit surprised that grandmother would offer anything like that. She’d never offered anything like that before.
“Anyone else?” The leader of the meeting asked.
Canelo paused for a moment, perhaps unsure of what she wanted to say. “I am interested in the battle wand.”
Frank frowned under his mask. It’s not the choice he would have picked.
Frank didn’t like battle wands. They could be stolen, or ran out of charges, and they had no grace or art. Magic should be beautiful, not just useful.
Frank had no use for pacifism. He’d studied several of the sailor’s fighting techniques with capable instructors. Learning a marital art taught more than fighting; the martial artist discovered limits, their physical body, reading others, preparation, tenacity, and loss. A wand didn’t teach anything, except how to point, hurt others, and, if you were very unlucky, how to kill.
“I am offering a Shen Dragon Pearl.”
Frank took a deep measured breath. A deep water pearl from the Charybdis Gulf. A dangerous, and valuable, acquisition from the Shen clam. Diving itself was something only the desperate would do. The clam was a magical creature, and even extracting a pearl required complex magic, or a practical impossibility: killing the clam. Frank knew that the secret to harvesting these pearls should have died out long ago.
“Is it rated?” Someone asked. The University taught that cerelium made the best conduit, followed by natural gemstones. But, as with most things, reality was complex. Some magic components also made for powerful, if not quite as reliable conduits.
“At least one thousand thaums. For that reason alone it would be worth a substantial amount, but this pearl is also useful as a spell component. During the Blood empire, these pearls were used to lengthen life, manipulate time, and preserve memory.”
Franks emotions leaped, and it was difficult for him to even contemplate. Preserve memory. The doctors at Haven had tried with a potion. Giving everyone he met an expensive memory potion was not feasible. But, this? This could be just the sort of magic he needed. He needed a powerful artifact, not a mere potion.
His mind raced to what he could offer. He had money enough, but could he win this auction? This could be something for himself, a chance to be normal.
Then bidding began. Wealth at this meeting here wasn’t in gold, although the Pearl seller received plenty of monetary offers. Some offered less valuable spell ingredients but in greater quantity, while some offered a combination of gold and beast cores.
But true wealth at the meeting resided in skill and knowledge.
A potion maker offered to provide a variety of potions, both rare and expensive, legal and illegal.
Liza made an offer of one of her portable offices, assistance with a divination, and a custom warded chest to be delivered within a year.
Then Frank spoke.
“A complete copy of the five volume set of the Handbook of Components, Physical Laws, Spell Arrays, and Glyphs of the Modern Sorcerer by Grandmaster Aquina Erasmus. I am offering a black-market imported second edition, not the later four volume third edition published here in the city and edited to remove the spells on mind magic, defenses to compulsion magic, and her speculation on modern shamanry and esoteric magic. While the recent edition is restricted, the version I am offering was banned. The glyph reference from the third edition alone has been traded here at this meeting for over a hundred gold.”
What Frank didn’t say was that he had two copies.
One copy was a censor’s stamped copy that he saved from destruction through his contact with the publisher, and the second was an imported pre-ban copy that would look legal at a cursory glance. Either way, what he was offering was, in book form, the first four classes in the Universities’ Modern Magics course, and enough reference material to reach the level of a Master in fact, if not in name.
He heard a gasp, and even Liza turned her head toward him.
“A bird in hand is better than two in the bush.” The Pearl Seller said. “I appreciate many of these offers, but this is the first I know will be delivered soon and with certainty. Is there any counter offer?”
Liza seemed to consider it. “I may be able to make a further counteroffer, but I’d need time to consider it.”
“Do you have them with you?” The seller asked Frank.
“No, but I’ll bring them next meeting, I will take a blood vow to that effect if you are willing to deliver the Pearl at this meeting.”
“Hmm. Bring the books to the meeting after next, I want to bring someone knowledgable on their contents to check them. I’ll also consider the other one’s counteroffer at that time, you may inspect the pearl tonight, but not keep it. I’ll agree that I will have the Pearl ready at that meeting for exchange.”
Frank stifled his jumpy nerves. He wanted this pearl.
“This is acceptable.” Frank tried to sound nonchalant.
But inside, he shivered inside with anticipation. This could be it; the way he could overcome the curse; everyone he met could remember him again.
No more notes. Maybe he could create a zone around him where people’s memories would hold true. He might make the pearl into an artifact, or have a static spell array? A concrete solution might be in his grasp.
When the meeting moved to the requests stage, Frank’s mind still ran possibilities. Could he make a bargain with Liza? Perhaps they could find a way to use the pearl for both of their benefit. She was the only sorcerer he knew who would have the necessary specializations. Who else could he consult? Owning a Shen Dragon Pearl was illegal. Could he even consult someone at the University?
He almost forgot the other reason why he’s come to the meeting. The leader was asking if there were any last requests before moving on when Frank finally remembered.
“I have been asked to broker an agreement between … a local interest and a skillful glamourist. As far as I know, the glamourist can remain anonymous.”
“What’s the compensation?” One curious attendee asked.
“It’s not my call. I would put the glamourist in contact with a private detective who will work with the both sides to set up a meeting.”
“A local interest. This wouldn’t be a replacement of Millie Parker’s old deal with the Morrows, would it?”
“It is.”
The room seemed to grow a little colder. No one spoke for a moment.
“Not on your life.” Someone muttered.
“Is there no interest in this request?” The meeting leader eventually asked. When no one responded, the leader ended that part of the meeting and they began the individual meetings. Frank eventually met with the entirely veilled seller.
They gathered in one of the rooms. The figure brought out a coarse wooden box the size of a fist and opened it, by lifting away a close fitting lid. The interior had been lined with bleached wool to protect the pearl, so the seller shifted it aside.
Frank knew what to expect. Dragon pearls achieved a robust reputation among mind healers. When researching a cure to his curse on his own, Frank found at least three treatises, and several monographs alluded to them.
To the uneducated eye, one might have thought it was cheap fake; an iridescent orange and yellow, and pale white and night black spots mottled over its smooth perfectly spherical surface.
“May I?” Frank asked, reaching toward the pearl.
The seller nodded.
Frank shifted the fluffy wool lifted it from the box. The pearl weighted less than he expected, and was roughly the size of sea turtle egg.
He carefully lifted it to his mouth, and gingerly rubbed it against a tooth. It had a lightly rough feeling. It was, of course, possible that the pearl was mage created, but the pearl felt as genuine as he could detect without attempting to cast using it as a conduit.
Frank wish he had a stronger light spell, to examine its irregularities; natural irregularity followed a different pattern than thaumaturge-created work. He’d need to bring the components for that sort of array at the next meeting.
“I will check it again at the exchange.” Frank said. The seller agreed, and Frank put the agreement it writing, witnessed by the meeting’s agent.
When he left the room, the meeting had already seen many people leave. Canelo remained, but she left before he did.
When Frank stepped out into the cool darkness, he tapped his stick lightly on the road home. He’d have to sneak back into his own offices, but her remained cheerful; he had a pocket full of materials for his kinninnick and the potential for a genuine solution to his curse.
———————
So, yeah. Sorry for the slow writing. That meeting probably went too well for Poe, but the guy deserves a chance, eh? If this was one of Azalea’s stories, something must now go seriously wrong for him …
Yes. That’s the idea. Glad you are having good time.