A fan work - the August Agency

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 49: Kidnapping

Month 1, Day 17, 8:30PM

Cory

Cory, slinking through the edges of the streets in the city’s gloom — while wrapped in a dark green dress and wearing green-antlers pin — patrolled the streets between the Stag territory, and the Morrows.

She possessed neither the strength, nor the magic, to fight. But, everyone in the Verdant Stags had a role to play. While regular enforcers had teamed up with Pack members to prepare to attack the Morrows deep within their own territory. Cory did not have any experience with battle wands or fighting. But that wasn’t the point. The Stags had spread every available associate along the borders of their territory to signal if any Morrows crossed the line.

Her patrol had been picked for her to place her near Poe’s detective agency. It sat close to the edge of the Stag territory, so she could keep an eye out for Morrows and her unique surveillance of Poe and Marie, if nothing else, made her familiar with the locals. So, if the Morrows disguised themselves—or didn’t wear their typical armbands—she would still probably spot them.

At the appointed time, Cory saw the green and gold sparks flash over the city. The assault had begun. Cory knew, that the Stags had already been out covertly for hours, but now the bid attack was coming. Cory felt relief, excitement, and dread all at once. Lord Morrow would finally get what was coming to them.

Since she wasn’t fighting, she tried to remain unnoticed on her patrol. There weren’t enough people to work in pairs this far away from the main fight, but a quick pull at the flags on the corner, and a specialized team would be dispatched to handle any Morrow’s incursion.

So far, it was working.

Until, striding down the street, a group of four Morrows, three of them with wands out, had crossed that invisible line between the two territories. Cory recognized the smallest of the group, Jemnie, who lead the way. But the other three had the look of very dangerous men.

Aside from the aura of intimidation and grim look, and all but Cory looked like they’d survived a fight. Their clothes were bloodied and torn, and one had a scorch mark on his sleeve. As they strode down the sidewalk, the best dressed of the squad furiously shouted at Jemnie.

Since they were coming straight at Cory, she darted into a deep doorway. She was plenty close to hear the man’s rant.

“Boy, you’d better be right about this. We have to salvage something from this mess; we need to secure his heirs. Lord Morrow will have our heads for what just happened at the Manor. If we can secure the last one, then we’ll at least have a chance to survive the night.”

“Kett, go easy,” a calm voiced man said, “we don’t know who might be listening.”

“Let’s keep our …” A rough voice in the group started to interject.

At that moment the group walked past Cory’s hiding place. ‘Don’t see me. Don’t see me.’ She thought furiously. It seemed like it would work, Jemnie and the irate man striding past without a glance. The speaking man, however, was on Cory in a flash, dragging her out of the doorway.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Were you listening?”

“No. No one.” Cory stuttered. Her arm felt like the grabbing man was going to pull out of its socket, and his grip was deeply painful. She thrashed against the grip.

“Nevermind, be still.” He pointed his wand inches from Cory’s eyes. She stopped struggling — heart hammering and lungs struggling to find breath.

“What now?” Kett demanded.

“This one is a Stag.” Her captor tapped his wand on Cory’s pin. “We can’t let her alert any of the others. I can do her right now.” He put his wand under Cory’s chin.

“On the street?” The calm one asked skeptically. “Where anyone could see us?”

“Why don’t we take her with us?” Jemnie squeaked. “Uh, a hostage? Could be useful.”

Cory didn’t feel relief, but Jemnie might be buying her some time to escape, or alert the Stags. She was about to speak, but her captor pushed the tip of the wand into the tender flesh under her jaw.

Cory whimpered. She hated that she did, but she couldn’t help it.

“You’re soft.” Kett replied to Jemnie. “You haven’t had a proper induction, have you? Now’s your chance.” Kett switched hands with the wand, and pulled a serrated dagger from his waistband. He handed the wicked-looking thing to Jemnie. “Stick her quick. We don’t want to waste a wand’s charge on a scout.”

Jemnie looked down at the knife, pale and shaking.

“Jemnie” Cory pleaded. “It’s me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Kett flashed forward, grabbed Cory’s hair, and shoved a red pocket kerchief into her mouth. The gag had been perfumed with something, so her mouth and nose filled the scent of sweet flowers mixed with the acrid bitterness of the soap or oil that carried the perfume. He let her hair go, and waved Cory forward.

“So, you’ve made friends with a Stag whore.” Kett said. It wasn’t a question; Kett didn’t care. “Better prove yourself boy, or I’ll take that knife back and there’ll be two bodies bleeding out.”

“Like he said, though,” Jemnie quivered, waving to the calm Morrow, and taking the time to look pointedly around at buildings on the street, “We should get her into a less public spot.” Still, Jemnie shook so hard with fear and adrenaline, blinking through tears, Cory thought he looked like he would pass out from the stress.

“Quiet or in the open, doesn’t matter to a true Morrow.” Kett replied coldly. His blue eyes were as dead as a fish.

“Boss, the kid’s got a point.” Cory’s captor said. “Don’t want to alert a patrol.”

“It was your suggestion in the first place,” Kett muttered. “Fine. We’ll go a few blocks and look for a likely spot.” Kett smiled, then whipped around and punched Cory in the nose.

Everything had been happening so fast, but the punch felt like honey pouring from a jug. She’d seen it all, her body’s adrenaline pushing her to move out of the way, but her captor’s grip tightening like a screw vise on too soft wood and crushing it. She’d not moved at all when Kett’s fist hit her between the eyes. At first, it was just the impact that surprised her, then she felt dizzy. Her nose blossomed with incredible pain. She couldn’t suck air through the gag, so her mouth filled with blood from her bleeding nose. As she struggled to breathe, the man gripping her began dragging her down the street; wand still firmly placed under her chin.

‘I’m going to die.’ She realized, terrified. The Morrows drug her past the flag on the corner, and although she thrashed to try to reach the fluttering green ribbon, all she got was another strong punch in the face, this time from the grabbing man who was dragging her by the arm.

“Be quiet. It will all be over soon.” The calm one murmured to Cory.

The group dragged her around another corner and came upon a lightless street. The lamps had gone out; either from lack of maintenance or just bad luck.

“This street’s nice and dark.” Kett said.

“Uh, we’re not far from the August Agency here.” Jemnie said. “Maybe we should …”

“Don’t care what you think kid. We don’t want to waste too much time on this whore anyway. We got to get going.” Kett pushed Jemnie toward Cory. “Kill her quick, and we’ll go secure Lord Morrow’s bastard.”

“But …” Jemnie began to protest, but Kett punched him in the gut, which sent him sprawling. On the ground, he mixed crying with coughing, as he writhed in pain.

“You want to be a Morrow? Be one. I don’t have time for weaklings.” Kett pointed his wand at Jemnie. “Kill or be killed. Pick one.”

“I’ll do it. Don’t … I’ll do it.” The terrified boy rasped. He forced himself up, and picked the knife up from where he’d dropped it. Even in the shadowed alley, it seemed to gleam. Jemnie limped over to Cory. The man holding Cory twisted her arm behind her and gripped her hair, making her face her friend. Her probable killer.

“You want to stab her hard in the throat.” The quiet one advised Cory. “That’ll be quickest.”

“Sorry.” Jemnie whispered toward Cory, looking away from her pleading eyes and bloody face. He stared down at the knife and gripped it tight.

“Lady Raven Queen,’ Cory prayed as she blinked tears from her eyes. ‘Save me now, and I will be your servant. Save me and I’ll never waiver in my love for you.’

In her terror, she must have been hallucinating, because she smelt something like burn cinnamon and coriander.

Perhaps it wasn’t all just thoughts, because Cory had apparently made noises through the gag.

“What’s she saying?” The calm Morrow said. “Sounds like …” He reached and loosened the gag. Cory tried to shove it from her mouth with her tongue.

A figure appeared on the far end of the street, like a shadow that rose from out of the darkness. Kett noticed her first.

“Little Marie?” Kett asked. Four wands raised toward the newcomer. Cory wanted to scream, to warn Marie to run.

The black-clothed figure carried a black staff and she seemed to swirl with eldritch power. Her black cloak rippled. Her raven-black hair floated in loose halo around her head. A conduit flashed in her hand. She pounded the end of the midnight black stick into the street, and the harsh sound of a raven’s call answered Kett’s question.

“The Raven Queen?” Cory heard the calm one exclaim, but now he sounded considerably less calm.

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 50: Free from Fate

Frank Poe

By the time Poe found his usual conduit stuffed in his “nondescript” coat for attending the illicit meetings, Marie was long gone. She’d stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

His office rang with every shuffled paper and scrape of his boots. Poe stopped and the stillness of an empty building surrounded him. Even the sounds of the city had become muted and distant. His office possessed that same empty feel that he’d endured when he first opened it. Like a place the world near abandoned.

He scooped up his divination supplies, but before stuffing them in the pockets of his koi coat, he looked at them disconnectedly, as if realizing what he was really doing for the first time. In his hand, he’d already picked up the charm that he’d secretly connected to Marie’s new cloak.

He could follow Maire, or he could find Silverling. Not both. He clenched his jaw. This situation was exactly the sort of thing he could consult with Frigg, in fact should consult with Frigg.

Staring dumbly at those components that could either find the Raven Queen, or Marie, Frank found himself finally accepting the truth of his curse.

The curse, in the end, all boiled down to the problem of oracles: if the sorcerer asks for an oracle’s advice, and the oracle predicts a calamity that actually occurs, did asking cause the calamity? In other words, if sorcerers never asked, would there never be a calamity at all? Yet, there was the other side of that coin, rarely considered but of equal value. Can someone cause worse calamities because they do not ask?

A simple test case was needed. The research had University approval, and Crown sponsorship. If successful, a spell array would temporarily protect a sorcerer from the manipulation of their fate. The research hypothesized that this would keep the observer for affecting the observation.

In short, the researchers hoped to find a way to safely use the Red Sage. It’s prophesy always lead to calamity; but it was assumed this was because asking the question pushed the sorcerer’s fate; perhaps even the fate of everyone who heard the prophesy. But if the question did not manipulate the sorcerer’s fate, the Red Sage’s predictions could be thwarted, and more importantly, real danger could be prevented.

From there, the experimental magic lead to most of the research team dead, a brand new aberrant for the Red Guard to kill, and Frank’s curse.

He was a thaumaturge, perhaps the only thaumaturge, who could ask an oracle for the fate of things without participating in the question or the answer.

But, while Frank could divine more clearly than anyone, he could never divine an answer clearly enough to deal with his own influence on it. Because, once he revealed the prediction, it would be same as if he’d been the oracle himself.

After some weeks of testing, the Red Guard had allowed him treatment at Haven. After, of course, they extracted oaths to prevent him from ever standing in the presence of the Red Sage.

So, if Frigg predicted a good outcome, Frank could trust it was more likely than not to be true. Or, if the outcome was bad, he needn’t worry if he chose not to proceed; it really was more likely that his inaction would be preferable to trying to fix the calamity; the curse made his observation negligible.

But, if he asked Frigg for the future, the most important thing was that he needed to care. ‘Even if I am free of fate, if I am not willing to listen, then there’s no point in asking.’ Poe reckoned. And, to his shock, standing in his office, holding a fabric array in his hands—which the cloak-maker embroidered with black raven feather—he realized didn’t care.

Frank cast his divination and strode into the night to find his apprentice and bring her home safe.

He had a good directional beacon spell incorporated into his glasses. With a thought it pointed the way to Marie with a glowing arrow drifting before his eyes. As he walked, Frank drew his pipe from his pocket, packed the little metal bowl with an illusion blend of kinnikinnick, and he lit it with an enchantment.

Striding with his pipe in his right hand, and conduit in left, he hoped to catch up to Marie in short order. Marie seemed to be taking streets that lead relatively directly to the Hands Hearts and Palms. So, she couldn’t have gotten far.

The smoke of his pipe swirled trailed behind him as he ducked down streets and took shortcuts through alleys. Or, what he thought we shortcuts. When the arrow veered off to the side—Frank apparently having walked past Marie, or maybe down a different street—Frank found himself baffled. He knew she must be nearby, but he’d gone a different way. Staring at the arrow that stubbornly pointed toward a large building, Frank realized that she must have been in the alley behind it.

Frank reckoned he could walk the street and look for an alley or a street to cross in front of Marie and wait for her.

Eventually he found a gap in the buildings roughly wide enough for him to traverse. Sound bounced erratically in the long narrow tunnel between the buildings. He heard several familiar voices. Then it sounded a bit like some sort of fight; by the slap on the street, Frank guessed someone had been hit and then fell. A boy’s voice spoke, then a man.

As Frank grew closer though, he heard the words more clearly. An older voice said, “You want to stab her hard in the throat.”

After that, Frank wasn’t sure of the rest, but he was sure he needed to get to the end of the alley quickly. He let his divination spell go, and he formed a new spell in his mind to use with his fighting-kiseru pipe. He found talking to himself helped this, so he muttered the meaning of the words he wanted to form as the basis of the illusion spell he’d use. Anything to give him a chance to interrupt the potential murder of his apprentice.

As Frank neared the other end of the alley, he could hear Kett. “Little Marie?” And then a the alley rung with the Raven’s call.

A voice he did not recognize asked, “The Raven Queen?”

‘The Raven Queen?’ Frank thought that sounded unlikely to the extreme.

He needed to peek at the street before he burst onto it; so, he cautiously peered through the shadows at the mouth of the alley. On one end of the street, Marie stood like a tiny queen, covered in her black cloak and holding his staff like a scepter. On the other end of the street, the two spies, Cory and Jemnie stood close together, although it seemed Cory was being held by a burly Morrow, and two other Morrows next to them, including Kett. All the Morrows except Cory had a wand out and pointed toward Marie, but they seemed to be lowering them.

The Cory spit some sort of cloth gag out of her mouth, and shouted: “My Lady Raven Queen, save me!”

The Morrow’s wands all lifted again.

Meanwhile, Frank felt simultaneously baffled and terrified. ‘If those idiots think that Marie is the Raven Queen, this could go very badly … or maybe …’

“She’s no Raven Queen.” Kett said to the others near him. He called down the street. “Little Marie! We were just looking for you. These murderous Stags are every where. We’ll take you to your daddy, and you’ll be safe.”

“Let her go.” Marie’s voice rang out.

“Hey, uh, maybe we should …” Jemnie began saying as he stepped back from Cory. Frank could see the knife glinting in his hand. He looked more like he wanted to run than deal with whatever confusion had been thrown at them.

“Was he going to stab her?’ Frank wondered.

There were too many variables. Frank had never met anyone who claimed to be Marie’s father, and questions tumbled over and over in his mind. What was Kett after? Would Kett resort to violence? Did the Morrows carry stunner wands, or something more vicious? Why was Cory holding the knife? Did they expect the boy to kill someone?

Strategically, Frank didn’t have time to prepare a big spell array to deflect any attacks, and the group of gang members stood at least three or four strides away. They hadn’t noticed him yet, but he wasn’t going to be able cross the street right in front of them.

This was a disaster. Frank wasn’t prepared enough. He just had his pipe and some simple arrays. It would be a hard thing to beat three grown men with a hostage. Maybe a fully trained member of the red guard could manage it, but martial magic was, for Frank, not his chief area of study.

Frank rubbed his fingers over the pipe, and gripped his conduit with the pinky of his left hand; he knew he had to try to stop them. He might have resented Cory and Jemnie, but they didn’t deserve this.

As Poe raised his pipe to his lips to form his spell, the first raven arrived. Flapping over the rooftop and landing in the middle of the street, it seemed curious to discover what all the fuss was about. The group of Morrows lost it, trying to blast away with their wands at the bird. Miraculously, the three with wands all missed.

Jemnie just ran. As the raven flew upward to a windowsill to scream its avian profanities at the Morrows, Kett shouted at the fleeing boy. He didn’t have long to focus on Jemnie, because two more ravens arrived. Poe, peering through the dark, knew the expression of ravens well enough, and these did not look happy. By whatever coordination the first raven had triggered with its croaking, the two newcomer ravens flew at the little troupe of Morrows.

Frank recognized an opening when he saw one.

He breathed in the dark smoke of his blend of illusion kinninnick, which included the components that Canello had acquired, and activated the control and smoke glyphs on his pipe. On his exhale, smoke poured from his nose and the bowl of the pipe, flooding the street between the Morrows and Marie with inky black smoke, swirling with red embers and gold sparks. The Morrows, already disoriented from the ravens’ attacks and harsh calls, stumbled back in fear. The smoke twisted and formed into the shape of a tall figure. A raven’s head peered out under broad brimmed hat. Then, a second dark form, tall, in a black dress, seemingly formed next to it.

Frank shifted position to visually assess the Morrow’s reactions to the illusion; he peeked around the corner of the building, but tried to remain in shadow. He felt some satisfaction as the remaining Morrows involuntarily gasped in horror and fear.

The criminals forgot all about Marie, Jemnie, and Cory. Cory was thrown to the ground, her captor backing up and focusing on the appearance of the Raven Queen and her servant. They turned their wands on Frank’s smoke illusions and began blasting. Frank coordinated his illusion and the dark familiar flying up above their heads, with the female figure rushing straight at the them. As they sprayed stunning magic over the illusion, the smoke broke slightly. Rather than reform it, Frank smoothly morphed the female figure into a treachery of smoky ravens swirling toward the gang member’s heads.

He could keep this illusion up for a long while, but smoke without substance would only be a momentary distraction. In his mind, Frank urged Marie to escape.

Marie seemed to recognize that Frank controlled the illusion. She brandished her staff and appeared unafraid. Unlike the thugs who had ravens and monsters right in front of them, she could, after all, see him perfectly clearly. His illusions did nothing to block her view.

Frank manipulated the larger raven-headed figure and let it fall among the three, where he hoped they would reckless blast one another and give Marie extra time to run away.

And then, she did the exactly the opposite.

Marie ran toward the massive men, much to Frank’s bafflement. She held the stick with both hands in the tail-guard position, and streaked like a dark shadow herself toward the disoriented men.

The real ravens present decided to be vindictive; perhaps emboldened by their large raven-headed brother, the three ravens that responded to Marie’s call themselves flew down at the now-terrified Morrows. They sounded like a dozen of their fellows as their calls bounced off crowded buildings. They were adding a physical component, and sharp beaks and talons scraped at faces and exposed flesh.

Frank credited them with a distraction such that one Morrow hit another with a stunning spell, and the stunned man went down in a crumpled heap.

His inadvertent attacker swung his wand around erratically; apparently out of charges, he was trying to come to grips with a the huge raven-man Frank had conjured. It was, however, exactly like trying to catch smoke. He seemed to decide he’d had enough. “I ain’t fighting no Raven Queen!” He turned and ran.

Kett, however, still stood his ground. He had one hand trying to fend off both real and illusory ravens, when he seemingly realized Marie approached. He raised his wand. Frank reformed his illusory smoke woman and wrapped that illusion around Marie, then broke it into four figures, hopefully confusing Kett’s aim. Kett did manage to miss, and then Marie was within striking distance.

Frank kept his emotions in check; he couldn’t allow the spell to break. But, he felt stirrings of terror for her safety. Kett was huge, and Marie … was not. Frank yanked hard on the spell and practically wrapped Kett’s head in blinding smoke. Marie had a nice clear shot at his hand and wrist, which she did not waste.

Marie settled into the stance Poe taught her, and the stick whistled though the air and struck Kett. Frank could have sworn her heard the man’s fingers crunch.

Kett lashed out blindly at Marie and unfortunately lunged farther than Marie expected. When Marie tried to avoid him, she lost her balance and stumbled, while her cane rattled across the cobbles and came to a rest near Cory, who was still on her hands and knees. Marie scrambled to retrieve it.

Frank used his smoke illusions to obscure them, and poured more smoke and embers into their forms. The smoke ravens he sent to hide Cory and Marie from the Morrow’s view. For himself, He used the illusion of the raven-man, smoke curling around his body, to hide behind. Kett and his remaining compatriot hesitated between the cacophony of the growing treachery of real ravens as they continued to dive at the Morrow’s heads in furious defense of each other, to the smoke ravens protecting Cory and Marie, and Frank’s looming monster.

Meanwhile, Marie stumbled over to Cory, and helped Cory gain her feet.

Cory appeared somewhat awed by Frank’s illusionary raven servant, not taking her eyes from it.

“Oh thank you, thank you Queen of Ravens!” Cory interjected. Marie said something to Cory, and they turned and ran down the street away from the Morrows.

Frank made the raven servant loom in the street, intimidating the remaining Morrows. But, he’d exhausted the kinninnick, even as he’d used it to create the illusion of more smoke than would have been possible in a bonfire. The raven-man began to break up, and Frank let the shape and most of his control go.

The tatters of the illusion of inky darkness kept the Morrows at bay while Poe ran after the girls, coat flowing behind, the Koi swirling on the fabric.

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 51: Retrograde

Marie

Marie and Cory slowed their flight after just a block. Marie’s heart pounded, so she couldn’t run for long. Soon, Poe caught up to them, his coat still stirring with koi.

Poe moved them under a darkened street lamp. He positioned them so he could keep an eye out Morrows, but he gestured Marie to stand close. He smelled of the burnt kinninnick, cinnamon, and other vaguely spicy and oaky undertones, like charcoal and something acrid. Poe strained to smile at Marie, but she wasn’t fooled.

“Kett and company will take a bit to regroup and get through the smoke.” Poe said.

“Kett said he was looking for you because of your father? Do you know what he was talking about?” Cory asked Marie.

“No. My … Papa is supposed to be an important Morrow. But, I’m a bastard. I know that.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” Poe said.

“Mama wasn’t married to my Papa. I know how these things work. Anyway, I don’t know who my Papa is; he’s never shown an interest before.” Marie shrugged.

“What were you doing with them anyway?” Poe asked Cory.

“They caught me, and they seemed … they seemed … to think Jemnie should … kill me.” Cory spoke slowly, and she seemed to rock in place.

“Initiation.” Marie nodded. “The enforcers are sometimes asked to prove their loyalty. But, Cory wouldn’t. Would he?”

“I don’t think he wanted to … but he didn’t have a choice.” Cory shivered. “I’m glad the Raven Queen came … and saved us. I thought I was dead. She used her shadows to help us escape!”

Marie reached out to Cory and grasped her elbow to steady her.

Poe rolled smiled in mild amusement, but didn’t bother correcting Cory.

“That was risky, drawing their attention like that.” He said to Marie.

“I knew you were close by.” Marie tilted her head and touched the earring. “I thought the raven’s call would intimidate them and you’d hear it.”

Poe nodded. “By the way, how did you conjure the raven call?” Poe asked her.

“I drew it out with a brush and ink around the corner, then drew a line to the middle of the street, so I could activate it.” Marie grinned in satisfaction. She explained that between the esoteric spell and the Boots, it made the entire set up easy; since they were whisper quiet, the Morrows hadn’t noticed her at all, until she’d drawn attention to herself. She just dropped the esoteric spell and cast the raven call.

“Huh.” Poe looked thoughtful. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“I watched you set up your divinations; you often link your spell arrays with lines, so I thought I could do the same.” Marie titled her head. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” Poe replied. “I just never tried that before. Your will isn’t strained, is it? no headaches or dizziness?”

“I’m fine.” Marie replied. She did feel tired, like she’d been studying for a long time without a break.

“Let’s go. We need to get under cover, and I think Cory is concussed.”

Marie, surprised, looked at Cory, and realized Cory had a big bruise between her eyes where she looked like she’d been punched.

They resumed walking briskly back toward the August Agency, with Cory supported by Marie and Poe ready to cast a spell using his kiseru-pipe. When they reached a corner, Cory yanked on one of the Stag’s call ribbons.

“This will call some Stags, and they’ll deal with Kett and his cronies.” Cory explained.

“We should keep moving.” Poe insisted. They continued toward the Agency.

After walking for only a few more minutes, they turned a corner and found themselves on the far side of confrontation between an entirely different group of Stags and Morrows. While the fight was perhaps two blocks away, it was still between them and the Agency. When he saw the spells flying, Poe dragged them back out of the fighters’ line of sight behind a building.

“Now what?” Cory said. She’d began drooping even more, and Marie found it increasingly hard to keep the girl upright.

Marie peered around the edge of the building. It was far, but Marie could see the fighter’s clearly. “Hey, I know some of those Morrows.”

“We’ll have to go around.” Poe said. And just as he made this observation, Marie saw a Morrow flourish a battle wand and point it at the Stags. Some sort of fireball spell seemed to fly from the Stags, then there was a concussive whomp of an explosion and flash the burned her eyes, and Marie saw both sides blown violently apart. The combatants cried out in pain. One of the awnings on a shop caught fire.

“Master, we have to go help them!”

“Kett could be right behind us.” Poe said grimly.

“Without Jemnie guiding them, I’m not sure they know where to go.” Cory replied.

Poe hesitated, but not for long.

“Let’s go help. But, we’ll have to be quick.”

They walked toward the scene just as another group of Stags arrived. The Stags began arriving and checking on their injured, while Marie ran to the downed Morrows. There was more blood that she thought possible. She’d stepped over someone’s boot, and realized the calf was still attached. She grit her teeth at the horror of it and found the nearest victim. Poe followed close behind, but Cory headed on and started helping the newly arrived Stags.

“Jakie!” Marie found a young Morrow who was rolling on the ground groaning. His face had burns and bleeding cuts. But his shirt also was covered in blood.

“Help me check him for bleeding.” Poe said. “We need to stop or slow any of the worst of it.” Poe drew out from his coat a long bandage gauze.

“It’s me, Jakie.” Marie said to the man. “You need to stop struggling, so we can see where you’re hurt.” Eventually, he opened his eyes and calmed. Poe applied bandages, but he didn’t offer any magic.

“Poe, do you have a healing potion?”

“He needs to have his wounds cleaned first.” Poe explained, “and we should get him out of the street.”

“Help me drag him to the walk.” Marie asked. “There’s others we need to check.”

They moved Jakie and began working on the other Morrows. Most of them Marie recognized as relatively poor low-level members. Not the sort that were usually in fights at all: pickpockets, burglars, and potion dealers. Marie took more of the bandage material and tried to help some of the other Morrows in the street.

Some of them were dead, including the one that lost his leg.

The fire began to spread on the building, but Poe seemed to recognize the danger.

“Fireball wand; useless amateurs.” Poe muttered, and he left Marie to take care of the Morrows. He drew a large circle on the smoldering building, and began filling it with glyphs and written instructions. “Turner’s fire control should work …” Marie heard him say to himself. He gazed at his conduit for a few moments, then cast a spell. The flames reduced, but did not go out. A ball of reddish glowing light appeared over the spell array.

Poe carefully approached the Stags, who were putting together portable stretchers. Marie noticed they had more man-carrying equipment than injured Stags.

“I’ve shunted the fire somewhat into that light,” Poe told the group of Stags, pointing at his array, “but someone needs to quench the fire.”

“Are you with them Morrows?” Marie heard one of the Stags challenge Poe.

“No. Just a passerby.”

“We’re to give aide to anyone who is hurt, and we’ve got a fire brigade on hand. When we get back to the healing station we’ll let the right people know.” Another pair of Stags — a man and woman — came with Poe back to Marie. They began by confiscating battle wands and tying the Morrow’s thumbs together, but they also seemed to be helping the Morrows that promised to surrender.

When the Stag members began moving the first injured Morrows, Marie clenched up.

“What are you doing to them?” Marie confronted the Stags. “Leave them alone!”

Cory intervened, holding Marie back from jumping at the Stags. “They are trying to help. They’ll take them to healers.”

‘That has to be a lie.’ Marie thought. ‘A Morrow would never help an enemy.’ She tried to say so to Cory, but Cory just shook her head. A woman Stag among their rescue team tried to reassure at Marie.

“I promise on the green antlers little girl, we won’t hurt them.” The Stag woman said.

Marie felt this was not a real promise. And she hated being called little, even if it was true.

“Marie,” Poe told her quietly, “we can’t take care of them ourselves.”

Marie growled at him in frustration. He was right, but she didn’t like it.

“Come on, we’re not far from the Agency.” Poe said. “If these fools keep using military fireball wands, I’ll want my bigger conduit to do a proper dousing. Cory, do you want to come back with us as well?”

“I can go with them.” Cory said.

“You’re eyes are unfocused, and you’re obviously dizzy. You have concussion.” Poe replied. “These fighters are far worse off than you. Are you sure?”

Cory waffled a bit, but Marie convinced her to come with them. It wasn’t hard. Cory seemed not entirely prepared to walk the long way to the Stag’s healing station. Poe had her lean on him on the trip back to the August Agency.

After unlocking the door, Poe lead them into his apartment, where he set Cory on a divan and gave her a healing draught and some warm tea. She seemed to improve. Marie ran to her rooms and brought down a blanket. But, Just as Marie gave it to Cory, the fire bells started up outside.

“I should … go, I need to help.” Cory said, and she tried to stand.

“No, don’t get up yet …” Poe started, but he didn’t finish his thought before Cory’s eyes rolled back in her head and she sat down hard onto the divan. Poe jumped forward and grabbed at her, to keep her from flopping backward. She almost fell off the other side, except that Poe succeeded in catching her.

Together, Marie and Poe managed to shift her legs and carefully lay her down.

‘She was more badly hurt than I thought.’

“Take note of this, Marie. She needed to rest first and allow the healing to take hold. I think she was hit pretty hard at some point.” Poe lectured. “Notice the blood on her lip and the bruising around her eyes? She was hit square between the eyes. She passed out because the potion still takes from the body to heal. This might be for the best; resting here will be safer for her anyway.”

“So, we’ll go?” Marie hoped Poe would be ok to leave Cory here. But, if even if he didn’t, Marie would go back out anyway. She had to help Mama.

Poe gently put the blanket over the young woman. He turned to answer Marie, and suddenly looked toward the door. “Someone is at the front door. I need to check it. Stay here.”

Poe made his way to his apartment’s door, and Marie followed close behind him.

“I’m coming with you! What if it’s Mama?”

“Fine.” Poe muttered.

The were hardly out the door from Poe’s room, when pounding began on the Agency’s door. As Poe and Marie climbed down the stairs, Poe re-lit his pipe and palmed his conduit. Thus ready for a fight, he carefully opened the door.

Dinky pushed heavily on the door, and stumbled through. Bloody and breathing in painful gasps, he staggered against the wall.

“Lil’ Marie. T’ank the Maiden you’re safe.”

[JKlarinet]

“Wow,” I said, “it turns out that I’ve been punctuating dialog incorrectly!”
“What do you mean?” Marie asked.
“So, if I write some dialog, I’m supposed to just place a comma at the end of the dialog sentence,” I replied. “Unless I’m not specifying who is speaking.” I pulled on my hair in frustration. “And, I should not capitalize after the quote that ends in a comma when I am specifying with a pronoun, like when ‘he said,’ ‘she said,’ or ‘they said’ (or ‘asked’) something.”
Poe rolled his eyes at me.
“You didn’t bother to look that up until now?” he asked.
“Well, no, because … I’m not sure actually,” I answered. “I guess I just assumed that because the dialog ended the sentence, the attribution behaved like a new sentence.”
“It’s a good thing you looked that up, after you wrote over 100k words on this fanfiction,” Poe replied.
I buried my face in my hands.
“Are … are you going to go back and fix it?” Marie asked.
I slumped onto my keyboard, and filled a page with random keystrokes.
“No,” I muttered, “it’s too much.”

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 52: Sanguine Apologies

Frank Poe

After helping Dinky onto a massive red leather chesterfield in Frank’s room, Frank assessed the bouncer’s injuries. He had a blunt injury to his head and deep cuts on his chest, yet the man had somehow kept from bleeding to death. Frank found himself impressed that Dinky managed to remain conscious. After a quick cleaning of the wounds with sterilizing solution, Frank administered another one of his healing potions.

Marie didn’t leave Dinky’s side.

For the most part, they didn’t talk much about the events that got Dinky in this state. They were too busy removing his blood-soaked clothes, makeshift bandages, applying the cleanser, and finally giving him the potion for his injuries. Marie and Frank treated Dinky, but then, because all the injuries were treated, found themselves sitting on a couch across from the chesterfield where Dinky reclined.

Cory, just a few feet away, remained in a deep slumber, and didn’t stir.

Eventually, Dinky righted himself, and covered with a blanket, he began to explain what happened.

Dinky had an attic room at the Parlor. When the Stags attacked, he had been sleeping. He and several the others on the late shifts woke up to Madam’s general alarm spell triggering in their room. Dinky and the others rushed to the Parlor’s front to see what was going on.

The Stags came prepared to take the entire row of Morrow’s businesses. Some number of Nightmare Pack and Stag enforcers had shown up with stunning wands, barreled into the parlor, and stunned everyone in sight. By the time Dinky heard the alarm, they had already begun the assault on Madame’s office door.

In the twisting corridors of the dimly lit building, Dinky had confronted and stunned several of the attackers, but a troupe of Stags with wands cut him off from Madame’s office. They barricaded themselves in front of her office, and were attacking its enchantments. When he got close enough to fight, a Pack member welding a heavy fighting knife attacked him from a hallway. Frank reckoned that the Pack member must have been huge, because Dinky described him as “a little bit o’ trouble to deal with” and Dinky got away with some cuts and his enemy “had his head loosened.”

Apparently, Mama Stella intervened and pulled Dinky away from the fight. Jemnie had arrived, breathless, and told Mama about meeting the Raven Queen in an alley, and that Kett had plans for Marie and Frank.

“And, what plans are those?” Poe asked Dinky.

“Ah, ‘e wants to take Marie to ‘er Da’, because it’s all gone wrong for ‘im. See, Kett got this job protecting Lord Morrow’s wife and kids at Lord Morrow’s Manor because rumors were that the Stags would be attacking soon, and they doubled up the guards.”

“We knew, but Master Poe didn’t want to get involved.” Marie grumbled. Dinky gave a weak shrug.

“It don’t matter. We’d seen them Stags around and the Pack was messing around too. But tonight, ole Kett and the other guards got hit hard; an air witch, magicians, and bunches of darkness potions the blacked out everything. It was like the work of the Raven Queen. Some stayed to fight, but Lord Morrow’s wife made run for it based on Kett’s advice. Kett and a couple of others went with the family to run to Lord Morrow’s ‘idey hole.” Dinky frowned. “Seems like Stags knew about it and even more was waiting. So, the first thing that happened all night was that they caught Lord Morrow’s family. Probably afore they even attacked the rest of the Morrow businesses. Anyway, Kett decided to cut and run in the face of them odds at the safe ‘ouse.”

“Well, that explains part of it, but why was he looking for Marie?” Frank asked.

“Working for Lord Morrow direct, Kett found out somet’ing ‘e didn’t know afore.” Dinky gave wry smile. “Marie is t’ Lord Morrow’s daughter.”

Marie gasped.

“What?” Marie and Poe said simultaneously.

“That can’t be right!” Marie continued. “What about Mama’s debts? That’s why we’re stuck at the Hands, isn’t it?”

Dinky deflated a bit when the tiny girl accused him. Frank, however, felt embarrassed he hadn’t figured it out before.

“A spell like that,” Frank gestured toward Marie’s heart, “isn’t something you can buy. Cleaning at a brothel would never pay for it; in fact, selling yourself to a brothel would never pay for it. And this explains why they educated you, and taught you so much about the business and accounting.” Frank hummed to himself. “Madame has been trying to get me under their thumb because it’d be safer that way too. I’m assuming she knew?”

“Yeah, she knew.” Dinky replied. “We all have trouble remembering you; but having Marie trained up by a friendly sorcerer isn’t something we could buy. We were a little worried when you volunteered.” Dinky sighed. “Lord Morrow made me Marie and ‘er Mama’s bodyguard years ago.”

“That’s why you’re always working when we visit.”

“Yeah.” Dinky replied.

“Lord Morrow is my Papa?”

“Yeah.” The big man cringed. “He’s not got too many … uh, children like you.”

“Bastards, you mean.” Marie replied bitingly.

“Yeah, that. Your Mom was cleaner for him at his estate and they uh … well, they got together and you came after. He set her up cleaning at the parlor to keep you away from his family but close enough to keep you safe. You needed that magic as a baby to keep you alive, so they came up with an excuse for why he’d spend all that money on a maid’s baby. Only some of his bodyguards, Mama, and Madame know. Or more now, I guess, because Kett’s been running around looking for you.”

“Why is he looking?” Frank reckoned Marie would have been safer anonymous.

“Kett got this idea in ‘is ‘ead that if he makes sure you’re safe, ‘e can tell Lord Morrow that ‘e didn’t really fail after all. One of the Lord’s kids, even if they’re not one of ‘is wife’s, is safe.”

“He’s a monster! I’d never be safe with him.” Marie said incredulously.

“He wants leverage. Kett thinks if he’s got Marie, he’ll survive when Lord Morrow discovers the Stags have the rest of his family.” Frank said.

“Yeah.” Dinky nodded. “That’d be like Kett. So, anyway, we found out what Kett was after and Marie’s Mama, Stella, sent me out to make sure she was safe. I had to do some fighting. Sorry about the blood. And, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

Marie jumped off her couch and hugged the big man. “It’s ok Dinky. Thank you for coming. Where’s Mama? She’s ok, right?”

“She stayed at the parlor. She wanted to stay and keep the Stags from ‘urting the cleaning staff.”

“What about Jemnie?”

“He, uh, came with me. But, Kett found us. I told Kett I was ‘eaded to the docks. Kett wanted to come ‘ere, so … Jemnie promised to show Kett the way, but he led ‘im off so I could warn you.

“Oh no. Kett will kill Jemnie, didn’t he tell you?” Marie asked.

“Tell me w’at?”

“Kett promised to kill Jemnie when Jemnie ran off when … the Raven Queen attacked them earlier. Master Poe, we have to save him!” Frank smiled to himself at Marie’s lie about the Raven queen, but he wearily agreed that Jemnie would be in grave danger.

Frank glanced over at the Cory, who was still sleeping, and Dinky, who was clearly exhausted.

Frank felt the ache of exhaustion in his core. He was undoubtedly going to miss finding Silvering in this mess, and the boy could even get caught up with the fighting. A gang war was useless trouble just to for someone else to be in charge of crime.

‘Why does anyone need to be in charge of crime anyway?’ Frank mused. ‘What was the point of crime if you had to go to a boss to get permission to crime? It was like having laws on top of laws. It’s stupid. Real criminals ought to just do what they want.’ Frank reckoned the entire thing has something to do with money. It always did.

The shutters for his room were closed, but if he opened them he was sure the Mires would show the glow of burning buildings and the night would carry the sounds of fighting.

But, he knew what would happen if he refused to save the Morrow pickpocket. Marie would go after her friend alone. Again.

Of course that still didn’t solve the problem of Jemnie’s location. Where would he have even lead Kett?

Frank didn’t have the best mental image of Jemnie, so he would find it difficult to scry for the boy. Finding Jemnie in the chaos wouldn’t be impossible, but it seemed unlikely he’d be able find Jemnie by just walking around the city. Still. What kind of divination expert would he be if he couldn’t manage to find someone he’d actually met before.

“Marie, how long have you known Jemnie?”

“Since I was little.”

“There’s a scrying method I can use to find him, but it needs a really good image. I’ll have to borrow your idea of him to do it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Marie’s eyes shown with determination.

“I’ll help too.” Cory said from her divan, where she’d apparently come awake without the other noticing. “I don’t think he wanted to kill me.”

“No,” Frank replied. “You and Dinky should stay here and rest. I trust you won’t attack each other?”

“The Stags are honorable, even if the Morrows aren’t!” Cory replied.

“She can’t ‘urt me, even if she tries.” Dinky replied mildly.

Marie rolled her eyes. “Both of you promise! We healed you, so you owe us.”

The two ostensible enemies agreed to stay on their couches and not fight. Marie deftly extracted their solemn oaths not to make trouble while they were inside the August Agency, and they were not let either Stags, or Morrows, or even Pack into the Agency.

Frank added that—if they did not abide the truce—he’d curse them to have biting insects follow them around for the rest of their days. Frank had no idea how he might go about making a curse like that, but they didn’t know that.

He brought Marie down to the office, then drew out a new scrying array, and with Marie’s help, pinpointed Jemnie.

Even as they had prepared the scrying array, Frank worried that Marie herself was hurt. She was, however, not showing any signs of injury. Kett had managed to knock her fighting stick from her grip; he probably struck her hand, if even through luck more than skill. Frank surreptitiously tried to see if she showed any sign of the injury. Professor Lacer had a whole suite of diagnostic divination spells he could use; Frank had some of them that he’d studied. Lacer could put together his divinations with barely anything. Frank, however, would need at least a full spell array.

“Marie. Are your hurt at all from the fight with Kett?”

“I think I’m ok.”

“If you are hurt, perhaps you should stay here too; I promise I’ll bring Jemnie back.”

“Don’t you dare leave me behind.” Marie said, as she adjusted her cloak. “I’m going with you.”

“Of course you are.” Frank shrugged. “I could hardly stop you. Shall we fight all of the Stags in the city while we’re at it?”

Marie grinned. “If we must!”

Frank sighed. This time, he took along his heirloom conduit, the pearl, a pair of beast cores, and some components that would make for useful defense and barrier spells, including a fire quenching spell, a flexible distanced output kinetic spell, and a few other battle spells he knew off by heart. Sorcerers weren’t worth much if they didn’t prepare in advance.

Frank wished that he had more defensive artifacts on hand, but then he remembered that he had something else that could come in useful. He rummaged through his desk, found the the box with the jade wolf, and tucked it into his pocket.

Marie didn’t have much in the way of defensive or fighting implements, but she still brought the fighting cane.

“Let’s go then.” Frank packed his pipe with kinninnick, and held it in his left hand with his smaller conduit. He reckoned that he ought to have some enchanted defensive equipment, but he was a detective, not a thug. What he had would have to do.

“Master Poe, let’s save Jemnie, ok?”

“Of course we will.” Poe answered.

[JKlarinet]

I just finished drafting chapter 55 … so I realized I better release this one!

Chapter 53: Disremembering

Marie Morrow

Marie felt a flutter of anxiety when they returned to the street. But, she also felt determined. ‘I will save Jemnie.’ As they walked along the streets in the direction of Master Poe’s scrying, Marie tried to keep her eyes open of ambushes from either Morrows, Stags, or the Pack.

It felt strange that she knew her Papa. Well, “father” was probably a better title. She now realized she was more Morrow than any of the workers and gang members in the Morrows, but instead of making her feel connected, she felt even more separate from them, like a broken streetlamp on a well-lit avenue. She was just like all the rest, but not working anymore.

Toward the warehouses and docks in the East, they could hear shouts and the popping noises from battle wands.

Master Poe seemed engrossed in his divination, and remained quiet.

This gave Marie plenty of time to think and worry. They weren’t exactly headed toward the noises of a fight, but they weren’t headed away from it either. Marie felt like she needed eyes to watch in every direction for ambushing gang members. She wasn’t sure what was worse; that they didn’t encounter any Stags when they left Stag territory, or that they didn’t encounter any Morrows when they entered Morrow territory. The streets themselves seemed empty, but the night held the disturbing sounds of war. Occasional popping noises from battle wands and angry shouts.

“How far?” Marie asked.

“Four blocks, and Jemnie seems to be moving away from us.”

“Kett can’t be that stupid, can he?”

“You mean that he’d allow Jemnie to lead him to the wrong place? No, I don’t think so. It seems something has distracted them.”

They rounded a corner into the Green Field neighborhood, and the vague shouts and sound of fighting became much less vague. Instead they found two sides fighting across two bridges over the canal and across from in an odd triangular snarl of roads.

Marie pulled Poe back behind a tight corner of a grain exchequer’s building that had nothing more than a narrow strip of street along the canal so that bags of wheat could be lifted up and into it from barges that floated below.

“That’s not good.” Poe observed. “Jemnie is south of us. Straight through that fight.”

“Can we go around?”

“We’ll have to go north four blocks and cross the bridge there or … East toward the docks. There’s probably going to be a fight there too.”

“Can we … scare them?” Mare wasn’t sure how many times you could play pretend and scare the Morrows. And, their guard was up. They were fighting with wands and magic and knives; there were Morrows, and Stags and—judging by the roar—the Pack.

“In a fight like that?” Poe said mildly. “Illusions aren’t going to be enough; I don’t care how superstitious they are.”

A fireball spell struck the side of the building they were hiding behind. Poe glanced back at the fight, and saw the building catch fire.

Marie thought she’d seen Master Poe afraid before, but the look in his eyes was closer to terror. He’d been holding his pipe, but he just dropped it. From a pocket his drew his fist-sized conduit, and a long black marking stick. He leaned down and drew a perfect circle with a wave of his arm. Then he marked five glyphs just inside the circle, dropped a beast core in the middle, and he placed something that looked like the scale of reptile of some kind.

Marie barely formed a question about the spell array, when Poe jumped between her and the building. “Stay close.” He said. They stood for a few moments. Over the shouts and taunts of gangsters injured on the other side of the building, Marie heard her heart pounding in her ears. Why was she so afraid? They weren’t in danger from the fighting …

Then, the world filled with sound and light. The building exploded. Marie screamed in terror. The blast should have laid them flat on the ground; a wave of force and heat and broken glass and bricks. ‘No,’ Marie thought, ‘we should be dead.’

But, none of the destruction touched them; a shimmering dome of magic glowed with a orange fire. Pieces of brick and masonry smashed into the barrier, making a hollow drum-like sound. Marie stumbled back in shock, but before she fell, Master Poe reached with his free hand and grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward him. His eyes burned with determination.

The explosion complete, Marie wanted to run from the destruction. She just wanted to get away, but Poe’s grip held her fast.

“Can’t run yet. Wait.” Poe looked up. Marie could not see anything; the explosion had filled her vision with spots. Marie figured that Poe had been looking away from the explosion, or his odd glasses protected his eyes. His vision was unimpaired. He seemed to be tracking something in the sky. Something was falling: the building’s tile roof.

Clay tiles showered the shield in a deadly rain, and they piled in a perfect circle around the glossy dome of force that protected the pair. Frank kept his eyes on the sky, however, even as the tiles seemed to slow. Then a square wooden beam least as thick as two handspans, and nearly as long as the building was tall, slammed into the canal, and fell flat across Poe’s shield. It bounced, slid off the side of the dome, then smashed the pile of tiles and scattered them everywhere.

The rippling sound of the falling pieces of building tapered off. Master Poe sighed, and Marie saw the barrier spell cease glowing. She guessed that he’d ended the spell. She glanced down, and saw that beast core had lost its light entirely. Whatever that reptilian scale had been, it crumbled into a fine dust.

Marie ears rang with a tinny note. Looking around, Marie realized, they would never have survived that explosion at such close range if Mater Poe hadn’t put up the barrier. The building had cracked half, and even buildings all around them had their high windows shattered and hd caught fire. The massive beam, probably a roof support, had destroyed the railings at the canal, and the building’s loading crane was bent and twisted over the street.

Marie’s heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest.

Her tattoo kicked in, and her emotions went flat and unnatural. Her heart steadied to the fixed amount of pumping, as calm as a bowl of washbasin water. With complete detachment, Marie wondered if the fires burning in the other buildings would set off similar explosions and kill them both. She didn’t particularly want to die, but she felt indifferent to it. Those fires were close. She’d hate it if her clothes caught fire and got ruined.

“Well. I hope you found that instructional.” Poe pocketed the heirloom conduit and drawing stick, picked up his pipe from the ground, and pulled Marie away from the still burning building toward the canal. All the buildings around them seemed to have at least some small fires going.

“What happened?” Under the influence of the tattoo, Marie only felt mildly curious. Master Poe always liked explaining things to her. He seemed to know what was going on.

A part of the wall collapsed outward and blocked the alley to the east. It was very noisy. If, Poe hadn’t pulled them away, they might have gotten smushed. But, that didn’t happen, so it was ok.

Poe seemed pretty concerned though, and began guiding Marie to the North along the canal and away from the fires.

“Grain dust explosion. Once the fire wards in the building were damaged by that foolish fireball spell, a little spark inside the grain store set the whole thing up. We’re lucky to have had time to even put up a barrier.”

Marie nodded. That seemed about right. The streets were chaos.

There was someone screaming, maybe they’d been hurt? And some sort of rhythmic noisy bell had started up. Marie thought for a moment. Might be a fire call.

They walked briskly up the canals to North, moving away from the disastrous fight. Marie didn’t really have much motivation to walk quickly, but it wouldn’t do to get left behind. Master Poe seemed somewhat insistent after all.

Marie felt reassured that her tattoo didn’t cause her to fall unconscious. Then Master Poe would have to carry her, and she didn’t want him to be inconvenienced.

People from the surrounding buildings — civilians and workers — rushed out of their homes with buckets and pots. Marie figured they were probably to try to set up some sort of bucket brigade to throw water on the burning buildings. The canal was convenient for that.

Poe stopped them at the next bridge.

“Marie, are you alright?”

“Master Poe, my tattoo triggered. Other than that, I seem fine. Thank you for asking.” It was always important to be polite in these situations.

“Uh, maybe would rest here for a bit? Allow the effects to wear off?”

“If you like.” Marie replied.

As they rested, watching the community react to the blaze, Marie’s emotions slowly came back.

They’d nearly died. All those people were hurt, or worse. ‘What if someone had been in that building?’ Marie never felt afraid of darkness, but the shadows created by the fires menaced and played across the canal’s water. There were bodies there, weren’t there? She’d seen them when they’d turned to walk away from the fire.

Already tonight, she’d seen some dead people, hadn’t she? People who would never get up and move around again. Ended. Like she could be. With this thought, Marie had an uncontrollable shiver of fear. Her heart did not want to stay under control.

The tattoo flared with magic again. Marie’s emotions went flat.

“Master Poe. I seem to be, ah, afraid of death.” Marie observed.

“What?” Poe said. Marie frowned at him. Poe managed to sense this was not the correct response. “I mean, that seems normal for a building exploding next to you.”

“The tattoo spell keeps trigging when I think about how I almost died. It’s a bit awful.” Marie nodded slowly; that was definitely the correct word. “This whole thing is pretty awful. Master Poe, I don’t want my friend to die. I don’t want to die. I’m … not sure how to … deal with this?” Marie felt tears on her cheeks. She wiped at them; her face felt itchy.

She wondered where her emotions went when the tattoo triggered. She still seemed to have them, somewhere. She was starting to feel them again, and she began shivering. The spell array, however, triggered a third time, and the shivers stopped again.

“Marie, would … would it be ok if I hugged you?” Poe said tentatively.

“Would that make the terror stop?”

“Maybe.” Poe paused. “I’ve been told that hugging can help people in emotional distress.”

“Ok.”

Master Poe leaned down and gently hugged Marie, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her face rested on his chest and she tucked her arms into his body under the warm koi coat. He smelled like smoke, but it wasn’t the smell of burning building. More like spices and the forest. And then, under that, a little like saltwater and the sea after a big storm. It felt … like home.

“Focus on a memory of being safe.” Poe whispered. “Like a warm bath or …”

“Washing laundry with Mama.”

“Or, that, I suppose.”

Marie tried, she really did.

“Are you scared Master?”

“Yes. A strong will helps.”

“Were you afraid of the exploding building?”

“No. I was afraid you would get hurt.”

“I am not much help, am I?” Marie asked.

“You help.”

“I do? How?”

Marie could feel Poe breathe deep and steady.

“You help me forget.”

“Forget what?”

“I forget to be selfish. I forget to hate myself. I forget what I lost.”

Marie did not know what to make of Poe’s words. She thought forgetting was bad, but Poe had a smile in his voice. A carriage full of Stags rolled down the street toward the fire. They began spraying water at the burning buildings, trying to put them out. Other Stags began hauling the injured away from the destruction.

“We’re still going to save Jemnie?” Marie asked.

“Yes. We are.”

The tattoo’s effects wore off, but Marie didn’t feel as dreadfully afraid. Her heart felt steadier. She felt warm—not necessarily happy—but no longer terrified. Relieved, she guessed. She wasn’t dead. She lived.

“Ok. You can stop now.” Marie muttered into Poe’s shirt. He let go of her and backed away. Poe seemed like he didn’t actually like hugs, so even though she could have stayed that way longer, it was better to let it go.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we continue?”

“We shall!” Marie replied. Maybe she could let Poe help her forget how to be afraid.

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 54: Try to Make Better Decisions

Jemnie

Like most of his worst decisions, Jemnie had thought trying to distract Kett was a good idea at the time. Leading Kett through the city, Jemnie had considered how some of his “good ideas” that had gone wrong in one way or another. Now, as he fled Kett for a second time in the same night, his mind raced through the events of the past few months.

For instance, there was the time he’d thought it was a good idea to pickpocketing some dandy hanging around Marie. He didn’t remember much about the experience, but what he did remember stuck in his mind as bad. Particularly the being dragged off and then sort of “waking up” from the experience nearly two blocks away, unable to remember what he’d been doing.

Jennie had noticed that being around Marie lately seemed to have that confusing memory loss effect fairly often.

And, the entire business of spying on Frank Poe to discover his illusionist contact failed. Jemnie frequently found himself wandering around only vaguely aware that he was supposed to be following the private detective, but not really knowing why he was blocks away from the August Agency. In fact, not only did Jenmie barely recall Frank Poe at all—except what he’d been told of the man—the one time he did remember the private detective, Poe’s anger had terrified him.

He knew very well that Marie lived with Poe at the August Agency, and he knew where the office was. So, at least there was that. He’d remembered eating a pretty good meal there with Marie, Cory, Dinky, Mama Stella, and … was there someone else? Jemnie couldn’t recall exactly. It must have been Frank Poe, surely? He did remember the magic, and that was beautiful.

But he was very relieved when Kett and the other Morrows had stopped asking him to spy on the August Agency. Later, when they’d caught Cory, and Kett nearly had Jemnie kill her, he realized that perhaps Mama Stella was right. Kett Blue Eyes had no lines at all.

Only one thing that had gone right tonight: the Raven Queen and her monster companion showed up and fought Kett and the other Morrows. He’d managed to get away. He felt particularly relieved that hadn’t been forced to kill Cory. Jemnie knew she qualified as an “enemy” but the long stakeouts watching the August Agency had made him think of her more like a friend. They’d even had a few fairly nice conversations on the street. ‘To be fair, more than a few.’ Jemnie thought.

In the end though, nothing was working out the way he hoped. Like now, when he was running from yet another terrifying fight. He skidded around another corner, cheap leather soles scrabbling on rough cobble street.

“Come back here you rat!” Kett shouted. “Liar! Coward! You’re no true Morrow!”

Jemnie had once thought getting close to Kett Blue Eyes would give him some protection from the other Morrows; after all Kett was obviously moving up in the organization. Jemnie hadn’t considered that Kett had a rock for a heart, and his mind was a nest of snakes. Lord Morrow called on Kett when he wanted a killer, not just muscle.

Kett killed with ease and a smile. Jemnie now wished he’d never even had heard of him.

As Jemnie fled, Jemnie wove back and forth across the street, trying to avoid getting hit. Kett sent some sort of stunning spell from his wand. Kett’s spell went wide and threw up gravel and stones from the pavement, painfully striking Jemnie’s shins. Jemnie tried to run faster, even as his legs were betraying him. Jemnie limped into an alley.

Earlier, things had finally seemed to go his way. He had found the Stags taking over the Hands, Hearts, and Palms, but he’s found Dinky and Stella, and he could have escape. After delivering his warnings, he probably should have.

So, in hindsight, walking with the injured Dinky back toward the August Agency, was an avoidable mistake. That made it easy for Kett—the last person he wanted to meet tonight—to intercept him.

Jemnie had no excuse, however, for his “good idea” to lead Kett away from the August Agency so that Dinky could warn his friend.

‘Why didn’t I just let Dinky take care of it?’ Jemnie thought about that as he tried to blink the sweat from his eyes.

Partly, he guessed that he’d always liked Marie, and a little protective of the frail girl. Even though he was younger than her, and not particularly tougher.

And, in the second part, Dinky seemed hurt. Dinky put on a good show, but Jemnie felt pretty sure Dinky had severe injuries, especially with the way he had been bleeding though his bandages. So, in the end, Jemnie was not willing to let Dinky fight in that condition, especially since Kett had been relatively fresh.

‘I hope Dinky made it ok.’ Jemnie thought. He turned another corner. Now, he was at least as lost as Kett. ‘I hope I make it ok.’

Jemnie’s left eye seemed to be swelling shut. His side hurt. His legs hurt. He stumbled. Kett’s feet pounding on the pavement behind him were a reminder that he must not fall. Jemnie kept running, now running out of the alley onto a street, hoping to find a place to hide. Kett followed close.

Thinking back, at first, Jemnie’s plan had seemed to work, because Kett had not seemed that suspicious. But, when they had crossed back into Morrow territory, and Kett decided that maybe Jemnie wasn’t leading them to the August Agency as he promised. After hitting Jemnie hard in the back of the head, Kett had forced Jemnie to admit that they were not going the right way. Under an ultimatum of a stabbing—whereupon Kett brandished a very large knife—Kett had gripped Jemnie’s arm and had turned them around toward the August Agency.

They hadn’t gone far, when they had arrived at the triangular square where a magicians and enforcers from both sides of the gang war faced off in a deadly spray of spells and thrown projectiles.

Kett had flipped the switch on his wand and had begun shooting fireball spells across the battle at the green-clad Stags. Not that he had released Jemnie. Kett had dragged them behind some crates, and Jemnie had found himself unwittingly in a battle for his life without so much as pocket knife to protect himself. Spells whistled around them, chipping away at their dubious cover. Jemnie had huddled behind the crates and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Then, while trying to dodge and use his battle wand at the same time, Kett had shot a fireball that missed the Stags and Pack combatants entirely, and smashed into a grain factor’s warehouse across the triangular plaza.

Jemnie’s next memory started with him lying facedown a dozen paces from the spot where he’d been crouching. His face had hurt where he’d struck the stones. Jemnie had enough. He had staggered to his feet and had run away from the shouts and screams of injured fighters.

Kett, seemingly uninjured—probably a shielding artifact—had started to chase Jemnie.

This was why Jemnie found himself barely able to see and running away from a maddened killer.

“You little bastard! I’m going to carve you into chunks!”

Jemnie sped up a little. He felt like he could barely breathe. His thoughts felt like he swam through thick mud.

Kett’s heavy breath sounded directly behind him, then Jemnie felt a sudden pain in his back, and he stumbled and fell.

Jemnie tried to get up, but something wasn’t working properly.

Kett grabbed his ankle, and began to drag him. Jemnie struggled, but his body wasn’t up for it anymore. Kett walked to a boarded up building with trespassing notices plastered across the door and kicked though a door and made his way inside.

“Come on rat. It’s time someone taught you a lesson about respect.” Kett hauled Jemnie inside. In the dark, it was difficult to tell what the room was, apart from empty and spacious. Kett let go of Jemnie’s ankle, and kicked him in the ribs. While Jemnie cried in pain, Kett slammed the door, and wedged it shut with a board. The room was gloomy and dark.

Kett kicked Jemnie again. Jemnie’s stomach roiled, and he felt like he was going to vomit from the pain.

“If you weren’t friends with little Marie, you’d be dead already, you know that don’t you?” Kett said. Emphasizing his point, Kett stomped on Jemnie’s stomach. Jemnie lost consciousness again.

Jemnie came blearily awake from unconsciousness for the second time that night. He found himself tied to a chair. Kett was ranting in the light of a glowing bottle of moonlight sizzle.

“… could have just done what you were told. But, no. You made everything hard. Well, I’m sure little Marie would be happy to come with me in exchange for your life, don’t you think?” Kett didn’t seem to expect Jemnie to answer.

Jemnie’s whole body ached, and his mouth filled with a sour taste. His nose was swollen, so all he could smell was the metallic coppery scent of his own bloody nose. The chord cut painfully into his wrists, but that pain barely counted because every breath felt like inhaling fire. His toes were numb. Jemnie had the sick feeling that Kett had broken bones over his entire body. The only good news seemed to be that he could feel the blood trickling over his shin and pooling on the floor under his foot. His spine was probably still intact.

Kett peered out the crack between the boards of a boarded up window. Kett ranted. “That’s right. Little traitors, all of you. Well, the boss will reward me when I bring his bastard girl to him safe and sound. Frank Poe is supposed to be some sort of sorcerer, right? I bet he’s got some way to track you.” Kett glanced over at Jemnie, and then he returned to looking out the crack. “I can’t wait to stick this knife in his gut. Maybe I’ll get to kill Dinky too. Won’t that be nice?”

Given the warning the Dinky was supposed to deliver, Jemnie hoped that Marie and Frank would stay away. ‘I should really try to make better decisions,’ Jemnie thought.

Jemnie closed his eyes and accepted his fate. Kett seemed likely to kill him; or, maybe he already had. Just internal bleeding might finish him off. He certainly hurt enough.

‘Maybe I’ll come back in the next life as the child of someone rich and powerful,’ Jemnie thought. ‘Or, I could be reincarnated in different world. That would be nice.’

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 55: Smoke and Illusions

Frank Poe

‘Parts of Gilbratha are practically another world,’ thought Frank.

After their rest on the bridge, Frank renewed the scrying spell, pulling a map from his pocket. Luckily, Jemnie appeared to stay in one place. But, the streets, instead of the well lit and elegant parts of the city to the north, were half lit by failing street lamps and wound through oversized buildings separated by narrow alleys.

Unfortunately, the block Jemnie had stopped on was persistently on the far side of the fighters for the Stags and Pack. They were still on the borders of the two gang’s territories, and despite what he’d promised Marie, Frank wasn’t sure how he would manage to reach the boy.

He and Marie tried to unobtrusively cross the area directly, but every time they got close to crossing the invisible line between the two territories, a member of the Pack would be there to glare in their direction, and Frank was forced to turn them around to look for a more unobtrusive crossing.

Finally, after a long detour, Frank found a way through to the other side of the fighting. Then, sneaking back they managed to get closer to Jemnie’s location. Slipping down a narrow alley, the sounds of fighting faded.

The map showed Jemnie close. As they approached an apparently abandoned workshop, Frank slowed and kept them out of sight of its boarded up windows and doors. He peered carefully around the corner of another building with Marie.

“Do you recognize this place?” Frank asked Marie.

“No.”

“It seems like Jemnie may be inside that building.”

Marie nodded.

“I’m going scry this first,” Frank told her. He dropped the mapping spell he used to find Jemnie, put the map away in a pocket, and then activated one of the glyphs and spell arrays etched in his glasses.

The spell merely adjusted the visible spectrum through one of the glasses’ lenses. Heat was a particularly useful range, because it allowed him to see through the walls of building. Inside, two lights shone through the spell. The bigger one stood near a window, and the other seemed slumped on a chair or stool away from the windows.

Frank had a guess, based on size, who was who. Jemnie probably was not in good shape. Frank also surveyed the rest of the building. It seemed empty, but there were several other entrances, including a pair of large doors for allowing wagons to enter opposite the window Kett peered from. There seemed to be crates and debris in the space as well, although the spell did not distinguish those sorts of cold features very well.

Frank lowered his voice to a whisper, even though they were probably far enough away that no one in the building could have heard them.

“Jemnie appears to be there, or at least some other small boy sitting on a chair, and he looks alive. But, Kett is also in there, unless some other rather large man just happens to be guarding him.”

“Do you think Jemnie is ok?” Marie whispered back.

“Hard to tell.” Jemnie showed fairly hot through the spell, so Poe reckoned the boy was alive. “He is moving some, but not much, like he’s tied up. He’s likely still alive.”

Marie took a deep breath. “Master Poe, what do you want me to do?”

Poe smiled a little. At least she didn’t want to rush straight in.

“Is Kett likely to know we are coming?” he asked.

“Yes,” Marie answered, “because he has had diviners help him track down people who owe the Morrows, and even without a blood-print vow. He might even be expecting us to try to save Jemnie.”

‘I suppose I’m not the only illegal diviner in Gibratha,’ Frank reckoned.

“So, do you think Kett is likely have Jemnie as a hostage?” Frank asked.

“Yup,” Marie replied immediately. “He would take any advantage.”

“I thought so too. From that window, he would see any normal approach to the main entrance.” Frank pointed. “But, he’s looking out the front, and we can go in from the back. Or, you can come in the back; I have an idea.”

Frank explained what he planned. Marie agreed.

Poe lit his his pipe, the palmed his conduit and beast core, and snuck Marie around to the doors in the back.

Marie activated the esoteric spell with her earring. The sound all around them deadened. Of course, it made a cacophony of chiming in her ear with Poe’s coat so near, the side benefit of quieting her footfalls were worth it.

Frank tested the door, and, as expected, they were locked and wedged to keep them from sliding open. Frank used a drawn spell array to unlock the doors, and shift the wedge that held the doors in place.

He used a second spell array to open them, rather than using his hands. This kept the noise to a minimum, because the spell could slide the doors along without relying on the rusty wheels. They would have made an enormous racket, except that between Marie’s spell and Frank’s, the rolling door opened whisper quiet.

As Frank hoped, the abandoned workshop had partitions as well as abandoned crates to give Marie cover to reach Jemnie.

“Here’s my last healing potion.” Frank whispered to Marie as he handed her the potion bottle. “Use it on Jemnie if you need to get him moving. Wait till I have Kett’s unwavering attention first.”

Frank watched for a moment as Marie crept into the shadows toward Jemnie’s position.

Frank carefully walked along the side of the building, mentally preparing his spell.

He tried to put any worries he had about Marie getting caught to the back of his mind. He lit his kinninnick and prepared to exert his will using the little circle of the pipe bowl. He wasn’t limiting himself to the tiny embers from the pipe to fuel this spell; he had his beast core in hand with the pipe and conduit.

As he began to form the spell, he began to feel that vertigo from the feeling of spell failure. Even before he’d activate it, he could feel that moment when it all goes wrong, and a spell fails.

He stopped.

‘Not now,’ Frank thought desperately. ‘It’s been over a year. My will has been stable. I’m fine.’

Frank started to build his illusion spell again, but now the only image he could conjure in his mind was Marie, laying on a dirty floor in a pool of blood.

He stopped again. He took a deep breath. ‘I have the will. I have the discipline. I was destined …’ And that was the problem. Frank knew that doubt had wriggled its way into that thought. There was no destiny for Frank Poe.

Frank knew he could cast this magic. Just earlier in the evening, he’s cast similar magic without any particular concern.

But now he found himself thinking about it. How had he even managed it? The pipe had some glyphs that he’d used, but … had he used some words held in his mind as well? How had he delivered those shadow shapes with such clarity?

Doubt.

Frank shuddered, paralyzed. This wasn’t his normal magic, and if he couldn’t have confidence in his will, he’d never be able to cast it. And, suddenly his confidence was shaken. Frank cursed himself. Like he’d practiced at Haven, he needed to meditate and clear his mind. He did not have time for it. He needed to produce a distraction.

Frank began to feel the shape of the magic he wanted to cast, but his body began to shiver. He was afraid. Afraid of failing. Afraid that Marie would die. Afraid of becoming an aberrant.

‘What form would I take?’ he wondered. ‘No. These thoughts are useless. I am master sorcerer. Well, nearly a master sorcerer. Close enough.’

This wasn’t the sort of certainty he needed. Frank tried to remind himself of his success. He’d cast the lifting spell on the doors. He’d activated the divination spell in his glasses without issue. He’d cast the shield spell shield spell and protected them from the exploding warehouse. That had been a powerful, master-level spell. But, rolling these successes through his mind failed to help. He’d practiced variations of those spells for years. As he tried, again, to imagine the spell he wanted to cast, his imagination failed.

In the years before the accident, Frank never had any trouble imagining the magic. He wasn’t a prodigy, but he’d found magic a joy to practice. Trained and flexible, it always came. With practice, he’d became an improvisor of spells.

But, now, he couldn’t. He didn’t see it. He couldn’t imagine the sort of illusion of figures he’d planned. It was too complex, and he had to admit he was tired. He needed to resort to the basics, because that was all he had.

Frank took a few more silent steps toward the edge of the window where Kett waited. He could just fight the Morrow. If the man still had a wand, however, that might be tricky.

Frank stared down at his conduit. Frank inhaled some of the kinninnick and blew it out. Kett would be able to smell it, he was sure. But, maybe that was the point.

“Who is there?” Kett called from the window.

“Me.” Frank replied. Instead of using the control rune and creating an intangible distraction, he used the pipe’s force and control runes right at the maximum output of his conduit. Tapping the circle of the pipe’s bowl gently on the wall, his magic flared to blow a man-sized hole through the wall.

Kett wailed with fury as the shattered timbers battered him on the other side.

Entering the side side of the building, Frank found Kett shifting sideways, making himself a more difficult target, but getting ready to fight back. This close, Kett seemed bigger the Frank remembered. He was all muscle and fury.

Frank decided it wasn’t a matter of asking himself whether he could do magic; instead he simply would.

A thug like Kett wouldn’t be easily beat. Kett brandished a wand and knife and pointed them both toward Frank.

Frank sucked on the pipe, feeling out the conduit and the beast core. The smoke came out his nose in a black stream. Using the control and fire runes engraved in the pipe, the wisp of kinninnick smoke swelled and filled the space between them with void-black liquid darkness.

“Who are you?” Kett challenged from the darkness. Frank shifted through the smoke and used it conceal his approach. The smoke blocked all vision, including Frank’s view. Frank, however, had been ready for it, and Kett was not.

Perhaps Kett might have had some plan, but whatever it was, he was blinded. He fired his wand recklessly and a stunning spell flashed harmlessly by Frank’s shoulder. It ironically made it even easier for Frank to orient himself in the smoky darkness.

Frank relaxed his grip on the spell. As the magic smoke began to fade, Frank was ready. Kett’s silhouette emerged, then Frank took one long step into Kett’s right side, and Frank grappled with Kett’s arm using snake-bites-elbow.

The attack had Frank snap a strike with his pipe, then Frank used his left hand and the pipe bowl to push Kett’s arm out of line at his elbow joint. Sliding his hands smoothly down Kett’s arm, Frank used the leverage with his pipe on the Kett’s wrist. In one move, he had complete control of Kett’s right side. In less than a blink, the wand in Kett’s right hand clattered on the ground.

Kett howled and tried to pull away from the pain and the grapple; he swiped wildly with the knife in his left hand.

Like swift water, Frank just lowered his own center of gravity and let Kett go. The man staggered back, off balance, and his slash missed.

Frank hooked his foot and gave Kett a firm kick in the shin with his heel.

By that point, Kett’s body mechanics were a mess; his right foot had no real placement, and Kett’s left foot was practically weightless because he was falling backwards. He flailed out with his knife-wielding left hand to keep his balance.

Shame to miss the opportunity to take Kett’s knife.

Frank used gull-snatching-the-catch to grab Kett’s left hand from the air, twist, and break Kett’s grip on his knife. The force Frank’s pipe applied to Kett’s hand crushed it and tore at Kett’s skin, opening a wound where a bone poked through.

The knife clattered onto the floor.

Trained martial arts, like well trained magic, were practically thoughtless. Kett, who brawled his whole life, had all the habits of an aggressive fighter, but none of the training. Kett screamed in pain and blindly lunged into a head butt.

Frank, however, had all the habits of training.

Instead of letting go, Frank twisted using pulling-in-the-jib, using his whole body to yank hard on Kett’s left hand and arm. Kett’s attack missed entirely. Frank used swinging-the-boom with his leg to turn Kett’s momentum into throw onto the dusty floor. Kett landed hard. On his face.

Kett rolled on the ground, seemingly trying to fight, raging and cursing. Frank just stepped back. He watched the Morrow enforcer carefully. Kett might be down, but he wasn’t incapacitated.

Frank’s heart pounded, but he felt a sort of satisfaction. Frank had sprung Kett’s trap and prevailed.

Frank repacked his pipe with kinninnick, and lit it with the fire rune and slight expression of will.

Marie rushed in and began to untie Jemnie.

“I thought you were going to distract him!” Marie said.

“Consider him distracted,” Frank replied.

Marie scrabbled with nervous fingers at the rotten rope tying Jemnie’s feet and hands.

Frank kept his eyes on Kett. Frank took a bit of smoke into his mouth and blew a smoke ring that hung unnaturally in the air.

The man had not been entirely beaten. Despite his injuries, Kett was still lucid.

Perhaps hoping to stop his prisoner from escaping, or maybe hoping to catch Marie, Kett lunged toward Marie and Jemnie.

“Look out!” Frank warned Marie.

Frank stepped between them using heron-steps, and as Kett paused, Frank gestured and the smoke ring became his circle. Frank cast as simple spell, holding the words for force and control clearly in his mind, and drawing all the power of the beast core in one violent release.

The smoke ring dripped a slab of force crushing down on Kett and cracking the floorboards. Kett cried out painfully and collapsed.

Frank cursed to himself. The spell was short but too powerful. He’d misjudged the thaums. He could feel the broken edges where his conduit had cracked in the spell, and the beast core didn’t even have a glimmer of power left.

Behind him, Frank heard something hard fall on the floor and roll, but he didn’t take his eyes off Kett.

“You bastard. I’ll kill you.” Kett’s voice was filled with fear and anger. Kett crawled onto his knees, and his right hand found the discarded knife.

Frank took another draw from his pipe. He blew out tar-black smoke through his gritted teeth, trying to calm his nerves. Frank wanted to give the impression he was still in control, but internally he struggled to push down his panic. So far, Frank was lucky, but a big man like Kett could turn this fight around in a hurry. Especially without magic at Frank’ disposal.

The smoke swirled like it had a mind of its own.

Frank couldn’t hope that his reputation would be enough to keep Kett from fighting.

‘But, there’s another reputation I could use, isn’t there?’ Frank dropped his broken fighting conduit and dead beast core into a pocket, and fished out the Pearl. With the heat from the pipe and the engraved words, Frank restored his smoke conjuration.

This time he remade it into the illusion of a woman in black. The magic flowed with ease, and his earlier panic replaced with smooth visual transition

Frank had the figure lean over Kett’s prone form.

“You harmed the adherents of the Raven Queen, and now you have drawn her curse,” Frank said. Kett squeaked, and all the anger drained out of him. Kett stopped trying to get to his feet, and instead scuttled painfully back away from the illusion of the hooded shadow figure, leaving behind a smear of blood from a cut on this hand.

“The Raven Queen?” Kett rasped. “She’s nothing.” He sounded less than convinced.

Marie meanwhile had hauled Jemnie up off the chair. Instead of trying to leave via Frank’s new hole in the building, Frank heard them stumble out the back in the direction Marie had come.

Frank wanted to keep the distraction going as long as possible. So, Frank had the smoky figure reach down and “touch” the smear of blood. Straightening, the figure gave the impression of tasting her fingers.

“No!” Kett snatched at his bleeding wrist.

“She has your blood,” Frank said. “Your dreams, no … your nightmares, are hers.” Frank ran out of heat in the pipe, it had gone icy cold, so he broke the the illusion up into a treachery of ravens and sent them flying through the door where he came. The smoke drifted lazily in the air, keeping the shadows unnaturally dark in the light of a vial of moonlight sizzle.

Sitting on the floor, Kett seemed frozen in terror for a long moment, and then narrowed his eyes, gripping his knife. “It’s a trick! That’s not the Raven Queen. You aren’t her shadow servant.”

“It doesn’t matter if I am, does it?” Frank casually refilled and lit pipe again. He filled his mouth with more of the magical black smoke, letting it warm him and the pipe, and blew it out. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I can’t go back to Lord Morrow empty-handed! He’ll kill me!” Kett tried to stand, but he he was too crippled by the fight, and his left hand wouldn’t support him. Frank had a nervous moment where he worried that Kett might stand and attack. But, Frank guessed that Kett underestimated his injuries. Kett was done.

As Kett spat and cursed at Frank, Frank formed his remaining smoke into an illusory darkness that swept over Frank’s silhouette. Frank backed out of the illusion, leaving a tall shadowy figure behind, and Frank snuck out through the broken wall.

A few moments later, a blast from Kett’s wand shot through the doorway. “No!” Frank heard Kett shout, but Frank was already halfway down the block. He let the magic shadow illusion fade, leaving Kett nothing to fight.

[JKlarinet]

I think I will only have a few chapters left, believe it or not.

Chapter 56: The Healing Station

Marie Morrow

Marie found that Jemnie weighed more than he appeared. Because Marie had dropped the healing potion after Frank’s violent force spell, Jemnie still had too many injuries to walk on his own. They had struggled out the back while Frank fought Kett.

Like a three legged creature with only two legs working, Marie practically started hauling Jemnie in the direction of “away from Kett.”

When planning, Poe had promised to catch up, presumably after Kett was unable to chase them. Seeing how badly Kett injured Jemnie, Marie hoped Poe made it so that Kett wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

With Jemnie in pain, their escape dragged. They barely made it any distance at all when Poe arrived. Marie gave up, and helped Jemnie sit and lean against a building.

“Why is he still hurt so badly? What about the healing potion?” Poe asked.

“I dropped it. The fight.” Marie shrugged helplessly.

“Ah. Well.” Poe tapped the ash out of his pipe. He filled it, lit it with an alchemical match, and the pipe began wafting a glowing white smoke.

“Jemnie? Jemnie, are you awake?” Poe gently touched the boy’s shoulder. Jemnie moaned in reply. “Alright, inhale this.” Poe slipped the pipe between his lips. “It’s got a mild healing effect enchanted into it.”

Jemnie painfully inhaled the smoke. Immediately color came to his cheeks, and his breath came easier.

“We need to get him to a healer. He’s been beaten too badly. Get under his arms.” Poe gestured to Marie, and they lifted Jemnie, and began carrying him away from the fighting.

“Where are we going?” Marie asked.

“Which side is winning, do you think?” Poe replied.

“The Stags and the Pack.”

“An unbiased evaluation. Good. The Pack has spare members for patrol at the borders, and the fighting is all in Morrow territory. We’re going to get back toward Stab territory and see about the healing stations those Stags mentioned, they’ll be less likely to have fighting.”

“No,” Cory gasped, “they’ll take me.”

“Better captive than dead.” Marie snapped.

“I have friends in the Pack. I may be able to keep you from being ransomed.” Poe tried to reassure Jemnie.

The trio continued to carry Cory to a not-so-safe safety in Stag territory. This time, when they crossed the invisible border, Poe did not guide them away from the patrolling Pack member; he walked them straight through.

In one moment they walked in and empty street, and in the next they were surrounded. A team of four had caught them, one in green, and three decorated with Pack markings. All of them armed.

And, the whole group seemed to have questions.

“Morrows? Since when do you where orange and blue?” the green clad enforcer said. But, barely before he finished talking, a pack member did a double-take before Marie.

“Is that you, Queen of Ravens?”

And then, on then other side, “Frank Poe? You are Frank Poe, aren’t you?”

Somehow, the fourth member of the troupe managed to stay quiet.

“I’m not the Raven Queen!” Marie shouted angrily. “I look nothing like the Raven Queen! I just like black!” Marie glared at the enforcers, and to her satisfaction, they seemed to flinch.

“But, your cloak .. my lady … it has raven feathers.”

“I like ravens, that has nothing to do with …”

“Excuse me, but are you a follower of Her, then?” The fourth enforcer finally spoke up.

“No.”

“You do not need to hide yourself from us, my Queen, we are friends.” The earnest pack enforcer pressed.

Marie felt so tired. She’d spent hours out, trying to get to Mama, confronting Kett, saving Cory, chasing after Jemnie, explosion, confronting Kett (again!), and she’d just, it was infuriating! “I. Am. Not. The. Raven. Queen.” She gritted her teeth.

“That’s enough,” Poe said. “I am Frank Poe, an investigator, and friend of the Pack. She is Marie, an apprentice of mine, and most definitely not the Raven Queen. Our … friend here is injured. Is there a healing station nearby?”

“Why should we trust you?” The Stag enforcer asked.

“I’ve got a …” And, as Poe reached into a pocket, knives and wands all pointed his way. Poe stopped moving. “Uh, in my pocket is a token?”

“Slowly,” the enforcer who seemed to recognize Poe said, “take it out and show us.”

Poe moved with exaggerated slowness, but Marie noticed that he hadn’t dropped his lit pipe or the pearl. The enforcers probably had no idea the power Poe had. After seeing Poe defend the explosion, Poe’s magic went up in Marie’s estimation. He could defeat these four easily, she was sure.

Poe withdrew a familiar box. It was taken, examined, and after a brief whispered conversation, the enforcers put away their weapons, and passed the box back to Poe.

“Yeah, I’ve had you described to me before. We’ve been told to be polite,” the pack member said. “What are you even doing out here?”

“This … idiot,” Poe said, gesturing to Jemnie, “is a family friend, and he picked a bad night to cut himself loose from the Morrows.”

“We got a list.” The Stag enforcer said. “If he’s on the list, we’re gonna keep him.”

Marie squeaked indignantly. Poe ignored her.

“He’s not a big fish. Not even a little fish. Tiny fish. Minnow really. He’s just a dumb kid. Trust me, you people won’t want him.” Poe suddenly glared at Jemnie. “Get your hand out of my pocket.” Poe whispered to him.

‘At least the Jemnie isn’t trying to pick my pockets,’ Marie mused.

“Sorry. Habit.” Jemnie muttered.

“You sure he’s your friend?”

“Family friend.” Poe deadpanned.

“Fine.” The Stag enforcer shrugged. He gave directions. “You’re respectable enough to make your own way, since its close enough. They’re already treating a lot of people from fire, civilians and our people. And, there was a fight that got cleaned up. Morrows tried to take some of their people back.”

“You’ll get no trouble from us.” Poe replied.

Marie and Poe hauled Jemnie a few blocks the rest of the way to a nondescript building that looked a little worse for wear. Marie smelled a vile odor lingering in the street outside, and a half-destroyed table was turned over at the entrance. ‘Did someone die of some sort of rotting curse?’ she wondered.

Inside, the space filled with injured folk waiting for treatment, and no small number were tied-up Morrows. The shelves were stocked with potions, bandages, and a few basic medical artifacts, and a large operating table dominated the room.

Healer Nidson worked on a patient at the table. Marie felt relieved when she saw him.

His assistant, Silvia, was an exhausted looking dark-haired woman who had streaks of white in her severe bun, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, and a full body apron. She examined Jemnie for a moment and asked several pointed questions about his injuries. She seemed to put him on an mental list of priorities and informed Nidson of their arrival.

“And you two, are you injured?” She asked.

“No, we are fine.” Marie replied.

“If you aren’t helping, get out of the way.” She bustled off to get potions that Nidson requested.

Marie and Poe pulled Jemnie to the side.

The large number of tied and stunned Morrows on the floor didn’t seem to be injured.

“What happened?” Marie wondered aloud.

A familiar female Stag enforcer—one of the enforcers Marie had met earlier in the evening after their first encounter with Kett—gestured vaguely toward Silvia, who was busy with patients. She told Marie in a low voice. “All these Morrows came and Silvia cast some magic and threw a philitre. I never seen anything like it. But there was something more too, we must have had the help of the Raven Queen sure enough, because the Morrows were all down with hardly a fight at all.”

“You saw Siobhan Naught?” Poe asked.

“Not as such, but she was here. An invisible black mist against the night sky.”

Poe seemed like he might scoff, but then, his attention seemed to be drawn to Silvia, and he had a thoughtful expression.

Poe leaned down to Marie and whispered to her: “Keep an eye on the assistant, I suspect I know who she is.”

Marie did a double take.

“The Raven Queen?” She mouthed to Poe.

He shook his head no, and mouthed “later” to her.

They did not wait long for Jemnie’s turn.

Poe manhandled Jemnie onto the table with Silvia’s help. Healer Nidson examined and cared for his injuries with a brusque bedside manner. After setting some bones and administering a potion, Nidson gave told Jemnie to sleep and avoid strenuous activity for a few days. Then, he headed to the next patient while Poe helped Jemnie off the table.

The female enforcer paroled Jemnie, although she warned the group that he had best cover his red, otherwise he’d be challenged. To Maries surprise, she realized that they were not Stag territory after all. This little healing operation was in Morrow territory.

When they reached the street Poe stopped briefly to cast a divination using a map, chalk, and a bit of sidewalk. After he read it, his face grew quizzical, and he looked back at the healing station. For a moment, it looked like he might go back, but then he seemed to think better of it.

Marie felt tense on the walk back to the August Agency. She draped he cloak over Jemnie, so that he could hide his affiliation, but they were still accosted several times by roaming bands of Pack and Stag enforcers. But, Poe talked his way through it, and they returned to the familiar office to find Dinky and Cory awake and anxious.

Jemnie arrived to a nod from Dinky, and a surprising hug form Cory, which he promptly ruined by trying to pick her pocket.

“You all had better stay here.” Poe told them. “Do not trouble my possessions, and the curses and enchantments I use to protect them will not trouble you.”

The three guests, sitting in Poe’s room on a couch together, shifted uneasily at his pronouncement.

Marie hid a smile behind her hand. She’d worked with Poe for months. He didn’t have any enchantments or curses. He continued to explain sleeping arrangements. Cory would sleep with Marie, Dinky and Jemnie in his couch room. The he remembered that they wouldn’t remember what he said, so he had Marie write it all down. Then Marie reminded him that Jemnie couldn’t read well, so he stormed out to his office to give Marie a chance to explain the sleeping arrangements and repeat his warning about magic protections.

After Marie sent Cory up to the third floor room, Marie walked down the stairs to Poe’s office. He had his scrying arrays running, and he was looking at a street atlas.

“I’m sorry, Master. Sebastien got away, didn’t he?”

“On the contrary. His token was right next to us at the healing station. He was there.”

Marie’s mind raced. Sebastien Silverling was not subtle. He couldn’t blend into a crowd if he tried; had she seen him? Was the boy one of the injured?

“In fact,” Poe tapped the street atlas he used for scrying, “he still is.”

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 57: Deductive and Inductive Reasoning

Marie Morrow

Month 1, Day 18, 2:00 PM

Marie woke late in the same day she’d fallen asleep. The fighting had stopped, or at least lulled, to the point they couldn’t hear the sound of the fighting anymore by the time Marie and Poe had left the ground floor office.

During the last … early morning, when Poe and Marie had returned to his couch room, Poe dug out some nourishing draught and shared it around, and then they’d sent their guests to bed before them. As a practical matter, Jemnie and Dinky could hardly keep from sleeping. Healing their wounds exhausted them. Cory was surprisingly better off, but she gratefully collapsed into a cot without complaint in Marie’s room.

But, Poe and Marie returned to the office to watch Silverling’s token move back across the map from the healing station, visit the Silk Door, and then back up the elevators to the University.

“This is amazing; how can the Coppers lose track of anyone?” Marie asked, as the little silver dot climbed its way back to the University.

“They have to have a warrant.”

Marie had some vague idea that a warrant was some kind of paper that Coppers would show you before they did what they wanted to anyway. She’d heard one of the Morrows use the word when the Coppers “got a warrant” to search the parlor. They’d disturbed a great many customers, and had not found anything. She’d never heard of a time the coppers couldn’t get a warrant, so it didn’t seem to stop them very much.

“So, why can you do it?”

“I can’t, and if anyone asks, I never did.”

“Ok?”

“Besides I’m not tracking Silverling at all, am I? Just his token.”

“But, we think he’s carrying his token.”

“That’s gross speculation. Deductive reasoning at best, because we generally think Silverling would carry his token with him.”

“But, he has carried it with him?”

“Just most of the time.” Poe shrugged.

They didn’t stay awake for long after.

Marie stumbled to bed, and Cory barely stirred in the cot.

So, now, waking with the sense that she’d missed a great portion of the day, Marie stared up at her ceiling and tried to puzzle out the events of the night before. At some point she’d lost track of time, and everything in the few hours since they had saved Jemnie had a glossy haze over her memory. She realized that she had been more tired than she thought. Master Poe’s incredible feats of magic and illusion impressed her in ways that she realized she shouldn’t take for granted. If Marie had doubts about his ability to teach her before, she did not have any doubt now.

Cory, sleeping in a cot near her, breathed in and out with a slow steady rthymn. She seemed peaceful and relaxed. Marie wondered when the Stag girl had last had a good night’s sleep. So many people had been hurt in the gang war. Marie hoped Mama was ok.

She also idly wondered about her father. Everyone knew Lord Morrow as an incurable paranoid. He had plans within plans to escape capture or assassination. ‘Although …’ Marie looked at Cory ‘Cory is here because Kett failed his mission to protect Lord Morrow’s wife and children. Father’s other plans could have failed.’

Marie tried hard to place her father’s face, and she just had vague recollections of the red clad boss walking the street and surveying his lackeys and businesses. ‘Do I look like him, just a little?’ She didn’t think so; she recalled a physical and imposing man. Lord Morrow was built like a bear, broad and heavy.

No point in wondering about her father’s fate.

Marie climbed out of bed and prepared the remains of her day. Cory still slept, and Marie did not care to wake her. If she hadn’t been captured by the Morrows, maybe none of the previous nights events would have happened at all.

Marie wasn’t bitter.

But. Her Mama wasn’t safe, and she didn’t know what she could do about it. If Lord Morrow had been her Mama’s protection all these years, what would happen if Mama didn’t have protection?

Climbing down the stair to the office, Marie smelled the sweet and spicy scent of a fishball sandwich from a street vendor. The paper wrapped food waited on her table in this foyer. Poe leaned back in his chair at his desk in a bright blue and teal suit with a carnation colored cravat.

“Master?”

“Bring your food in here, and have seat.” Poe brushed a pile of papers aside to clear space. The remains of his own sandwich was laid on the desk.

In the afternoon light, Marie realized the entire office had been covered in chalk scrawl and spell arrays. The desk had several grimoires open on it, although they appeared entirely indecipherable. She sat and opened the sandwich, she took a bite and the sweet, spicy, and oily flavors assaulted her tongue.

“Did you sleep?”

“It’s time we did some thinking.” Marie noticed that Poe hadn’t answered. “We’ve been collecting all this information, and getting a picture of the whole. On the one hand, we have Sebastien Silvering, a student at the University, who sold Ennis Naught’s possessions, associated with Lord Dryden, the Silk Door, and Pixies. On the other hand, we have the mysterious Raven Queen, the Verdant Stag, Lord Stag, and Silvia.”

“Is Silvia involved?”

“I am reasonably sure she’s the one coming to the meetings. Distinctive boots. I am also thinking she’s an out-of-town illegal healer. She might have even been brought in special from outside Lenore to help with this gang war. I certainly only have seen her lately at the meetings.”

“Did you see Sebastien at the healing station?” After knowing his token had been at the healing station, Marie tried to recall him, but she didn’t think she’d seen him assisting or injured.

“No, but a kind-hearted boy like him would easily be tricked into helping the Stags. In fact, his connection has uncovered the real secret!”

“Silvia and Sebastien are the same person?”

“What? Of course not! Who would masquerade as a girl?” Poe scoffed.

‘Someone who didn’t want to be recognized doing illegal things.’ Marie thought. But she didn’t interrupt. Poe continued:

“Sebastien being there shows us that Lord Stag and Lord Dryden are connected. Since Lord Stag wears a mask, they may even be the same person. Even if not, Sebastien must have been loaned out to help at that healing station too.”

“Couldn’t he be a Morrow?”

“Could he?”

“No. I’d know Sebastien if he joined earlier than a few months ago, before I started working here.” Marie might not know all the members of the Morrows, but a flashy student like Silverling was memorable. At least, unless he’d joined very recently.

“Exactly. He is either a member of the Verdant Stag, or fighting for them. Some young aristocrat. Dyrden would never let that boy help the Stags, unless Dryden was helping them too.”

Marie thought about this for a moment.

“What does that really tell us?”

“If Lord Dryden and Lord Stag are in cahoots, this may be a sign that Lord Dryden is the real money behind the Stags, even if he’s not swapping identities. He’d have the influence and money to pull off this gang war. I know the Pack well enough, and they are probably the most peaceful of all the gangs in the city. They wouldn’t have gotten involved unless they felt reassured. Someone like Lord Dryden would be key to getting their participation.”

“What about the Raven Queen?” Marie wondered.

“The presence of Silvia shows that the Stags have reach. It feels like someone from the Stags recruited her from outside the city. Lenore has many sorcerers, but a well-travelled trader like Dryden could have brought her into the city to support the Stags. And if he found Silvia, he could find a thief like Siobhan Naught. In fact, they might have been a father-daughter team.”

“But, thieves hate being well known.” Marie replied, drawing on what she knew about the thieves and pickpockets in the Morrows. “A well-known thief is a caught thief.”

“If there can be sorcerers in other professions, why not a magical thief?”

“Because, burglars don’t make much money.” Marie replied. Poe didn’t seem to understand how burglars often just picked their targets opportunistically. They never had access to true valuables. “Any half-qualified sorcerer would make more money in month than most house breakers make in a year.”

“But, if the thief had stolen a magical manuscript from the University, a priceless book? I’d think that anyone who specializes in ward cracking ought to have access to artifacts that could be sold outside the country, or even inside if its the right sort of magic.”

“They need a fence.” Marie replied. “The more valuable a thing, the harder it is to sell without getting caught.”

“Well then, the Stags would be perfect. Discrete travelers and traders from all over the world visiting the Verdant Stag.” Poe paused rubbed his eyes. “If Lord Stag isn’t Lord Dryden, Dryden could still be that fence; he sells those exotic horses all over. If the Raven Queen is hidden inside the Stag organization, its been done so well that the Coppers do not have a whiff of her. But, she might be hidden as an associate of Dryden.”

“Who is hidden?” Lieutenant Robards asked from the doorway. Marie was startled, and nearly dropped her sandwich. “Oh, I’m sorry, the door was open. I came by to consult.”

“The person we’re looking for, obviously.” Poe said.

“You mean the Raven Queen, don’t you?”

“Do I?” Poe smirked. “What can the August Agency do for you Lieutenant?”

“I’m investigating an explosion, one of several. I wondered if you might be able to … divine something of the attack.”

“Where was it?”

“It was a grain factor down by a canal to the south.”

“Ah.”

“There’s a spell circle there, and that could be the culprit. But the copper diviners can’t get any sort of read on it. Or rather, they think they’ve got something, then forget it by the time they try to tell us.”

Marie glanced over at Poe. His expression remained relaxed.

“How sure are you that this sorcerer started the explosion?”

“They put a warding circle down before it happened.”

“Marie, go get Jemnie.” Poe told Marie. Turning back to Robards, he said: “I have a witness that can tell you what happened.”

Marie dashed upstairs, woke Jemnie, and brought him down.

Robards looked at the boy with some skepticism. But with some prompting, Poe convinced Jemnie to tell Robards what he’d seen when Kett had dragged him through the city.

“So,” Robards concluded, “It was a fireball wand that set the warehouse on fire, and the explosion happened after?”

Jemnie nodded. “I think so. Right after everything was on fire, there was this huge explosion.”

“Grain dust explosion,” Poe said. “Also, the circle was mine, so I promise I didn’t trigger it.”

“What?” Robards turned in surprise.

“I was trying to cross to reach Jemnie, when I saw the fire, I knew what was going to happen.”

“Divination?” Robards asked.

“Experience. I’d studied a sugar dust explosion at University. The sugarcane processor let dust build up and an anti-fire ward degrade, so some spark or other blew everything up. Killed a dozen workers, and left a crater.”

“Where do I find Kett?”

“He’s one of the Morrows.”

“My captain is furious, you understand? People were hurt, and not just gang members. Property destroyed. Homeless families. He wants the perpetrators.”

“None of the people I have here fought on the streets last night. Or rather, I did, but it wasn’t me.”

“Frank. I’ve had a good feeling about you before. You even got a bonus on the Siobhan Naught case. If you can tell me, where is Kett?”

Marie noticed that Frank hesitated. She could see the tension in him.

“Lieutenant, Master Poe could tell you everything, and you would forget it all ten minutes after you left.”

“It’s fine, Marie. There’s a way for him to recall it.” Poe walked to his coat, where he’d hung it on the peg the night before, and rummaged through the pockets. He started removing components, his large conduit, the strange pearl, and circle making tools. “Please bear with me Lieutenant.” Poe laid out the spell array on his desk. rubbing away the chalk from his scrying, and replacing it with a pattern he checked from a grimoire. “Here we are.” Poe sat in his chair, and began a spell.

Marie hadn’t really noticed, but Master Poe always seemed … she wasn’t sure the right word. Temporary, maybe? Suddenly, he felt like more of himself. Permanent.

“Ask your questions Lieutenant. Marie take notes.”

What followed would have made a lawyer envious. Poe explained what happened, without revealing why.

The fighting started. Marie left. Poe found her confronting some Morrows. Poe convinced them to leave. They travelled back to the agency, because Cory needed healing. They helped the victims of a fight. They met a friend from Marie’s old work. They left again to find Jemnie. Poe protected them from the explosion. They found and confronted Kett. After a heated exchange, they left with Jemnie. They found a doctor to treat him, and they came home. Poe didn’t mention any spells except the protection spell.

His story could almost be called boring. Dull. Marie had lived it, and she’d been terrified for more than half of it. Poe made the adventure seem like they’d had a stroll through the city, met some friends, told someone off, and visited a doctor.

Robards asked extensive questions about the locations of the events, putting it all on a little pad, but surprisingly didn’t press on any of the magic Poe might have used. Robards listened to the whole thing and finished with, “You are a menace, but given everything, the Coppers have better things to do. Are all these ‘friends’ staying with you?”

“For now.”

“Don’t leave the city, we may need some witnesses for the explosion, although there are plenty others. And, we still need to find and arrest this Kett. It might take some time, because we spent most the the morning stopping looters.”

Frank nodded. His expression changed slightly. Marie felt like Poe became less real again.

“Marie, pass me your notes.”

She did and Poe glance at them.

“Anything else?” Poe asked.

“No. If you find out where Kett is, let me know. The Stag took prisoners. He could be with them.”

“Lieutenant, did,” Marie’s voice got caught in her throat, “Lord Morrow … survive?”

“Did you know him?” Robards sounded surprised.

“No.”

“Oh, I heard rumors, and its hard to tell, but the Stags are claiming he died in the fighting. His family seems to have disappeared.”

Marie felt a pit in her chest. Was she the last surviving member of the Morrow family? Would Lord Stag be looking for her next?

Robards excused himself and left. Poe, Marie, and Jemnie all looked at each other meaningfully.

“What am I going to do with everyone? I don’t even have a proper kitchen.” Poe wondered aloud. “Marie, see if you can get Dinky and Cory down here.” He put a paper bag on the desk. “Sandwiches.” Marie and Jemnie went to wake the other guests.

The group eventually came together around Poe’s messy desk. Although, Marie noted that Poe put all his spell components away, hiding them from the motley group of visiting criminals. They ate the sandwiches.

“Alright. Let’s be honest, which of you three has a place to go home to tonight?”

Dinky and Jemnie looked uncomfortable.

“I lived at the Hands, Hearts, and Palms,” Dinky said. “So, I don’t have a place right now.”

“Me either,” Jemnie added. “I don’t know if my, um, spot is still available.”

Marie suspected he meant the building where some of the young pickpockets lived together in the basement of a Morrow-run alchemy operation. Even when he wasn’t sleeping there, he’d sleep at the parlor behind a tub in the laundry.

“I can go back to the Stags. I’ve got a place in their common room.”

Poe nodded at the group.

“My space on the second floor is fine for a few days.” Poe told the two Morrows.

Former Morrows? Marie wondered what they would call themselves now. Just, people, she guessed. Except her. She’d always be a Morrow. Wasn’t that strange?

“I’ve had worse.” Dinky rumbled. Jemnie seemed to agree.

“We’ll figure something out, I suppose.” Poe observed. With that somewhat settled, Cory left to return to the Verdant Stag, and the rest stayed.

They spent the rest of the day cleaning the August Agency from top to bottom, removing the blood stains, destroying soiled bandages, washing old circles and spell marks off the office floor and desk, and generally neatening and scrubbed everything.

When night came, they gathered in Poe’s room.

Four of couches in arranged themselves into a square with a low table in the middle. Marie wondered when the couches had been placed this way, because she couldn’t recall doing it. They each had a couch to themselves.

The table was covered in designs, with shimmering inlay. Poe lit several enchanted lights, and the whole space was shone with a cheerful glow. He was using the Pearl as a conduit now. Marie wondered if there was some advantage to using something other than cerelium.

Poe had made tea, and he had placed dark brown pot on the table. He had offered the run of his cabinet for them to pick a cups they liked. Marie picked a fine white cup with a rose pattern and delicate handle with a matching saucer. Jemnie chose a cup made from a carved white stone and a silver handle attached. Dinky chose a cracked stoneware mug. And, Poe had a handless cup white cup decorated with black koi.

“Marie, please pour,” Poe directed.

Marie blinked in surprise, Poe usually wasn’t this formal. He was up to something.

Marie poured a measure of the fragrant pale green tea to everyone. She didn’t have a strainer, so pieces of the tea leaves drifted in the cups. The tea smelled of flowers and far off places.

“Drink freely everyone.” Poe encouraged. “This is one of the best blends I have.” Uncharacteristically, he launched into a story about why he started a detective agency.

When he’d left Haven, his will nearly faded to nothing. He had a bare pittance of his magical power. And, without magic, who was he?

He’d been sitting on a park bench tossing scraps of an uneaten sandwich to pigeons, when a raven landed and gave him a long stare. She preened and raised her beak haughtily at the other birds, like a tiny queen. She seemed ready to tell him something, but Poe did not know what it could have been. He had been taught a trick to understanding animals but he worried that he couldn’t do it with his will hurt.

At that moment, a boy, probably not more than six approached. This innocent child came and asked him if he could find his mother. Poe knew dozens of scrying spells to find his mother in an instant, but he could not cast any of them.

He almost refused.

But the regal raven seemed, somehow, to be judging him. And under its stare, Poe agreed. If magic failed him, that didn’t mean he’d lost his reason. He just needed to find a woman in distress, because her child was missing. He though about the shape of the park, and reasoned out her probable location at one of the entrances. He looked back at the Raven.

That didn’t seem quite right, and even though he’d said nothing, the Raven seemingly disapproved.

What he really needed to find was not the mother’s location, but the spot in the world where the little boy belonged. And, suddenly, he knew where that spot would be.

So Poe stood up, and offered his hand to the little boy, and they wandered toward a spot across the park where a little boy would belong.

Just down the path, huge bog oak trees attracted children like a lodestone attracted metal filings. These children played under the boughs in the hot summer, and you could hear their squeals of delight in every corner of the park. A little boy would belong there, with other children, playing and chatting. And, a mother would ask herself where he was, and there seems like no better place to search.

And, so, Poe found the boy’s mother, looking harried and upset. She’d been very grateful that Poe returned her child. She said that she had turned her head for a moment, and the little boy had disappeared like magic.

The raven had flown along with them, and Poe had watched it from the corner of his eye. After the mother thanked him, the raven followed him back to his park bench. He sat thinking about the incident for a long time. Darkness fell, and the lamps lit. The raven stayed near for hours.

Poe’s curse made it so that neither mother or child would probably remember him, but it felt good to help. He’d been wandering adrift, and now he had sign. After all, what diviner ignores signs and portents?

So, he’d decided to start the August Agency. He”d find lost people and things. He’d named the raven Frig, after an ancient queen, and somehow she would come visit him, almost anywhere he stayed.

As he finished his story, the tea had been drunk. Marie had enjoyed it.

“Everyone, place your cups on the table. There are some circles there, you might notice them. Please place your cups in the circle.”

“Is this a spell array?” Marie asked suspiciously. “What are your going to do?”

“There’s a divination spell. It’s very old, and this is my version of it. I am going to read your tea leaves.”

“That’s not real, is it? Reading tea leaves?” Jemnie said.

“Don’t mistake me for some huckster. This magic may be unreliable, like all divination can be, but the precedents trace to the ancient thaumaturges.”

They all placed their cups on the table, the wet tea leaves scattered in the bottom. Master Poe closed his eyes, but there was no glowing. Nothing, in fact, to show that Poe was doing anything than closing his eyes and holding the pearl in a contemplative pose.

This continued for some tense minutes, as the former Morrows, including Marie, felt too awkward to speak.

Poe came out of this trance and took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you what I saw. It starts with this: we could sail away with something special here. All of us, and potentially one more.” Poe looked them each in the eye. “Dinky, you’re strong and you think of yourself as Marie’s real father. The paths where you leave this group aren’t clear. I see green antlers if you do. You might become one of them, or you might be held captive. If you stay, at least for a time, Marie will be safer.”

Dinky nodded.

“Jemnie. If you stay, I see needle and thread, hammer and engraver. If you leave, all I saw was a cold hand. I suspect I know the symbol well enough to guess.”

“The Coppers would catch me with my hand in the wrong pocket, and without the Morrows’s protection, I wouldn’t last long.”

“Marie, I … yours is the hardest future.”

“Why?” Marie asked.

“Because there isn’t a future where you leave. But there’s a moment when you’ll be at risk, bad risk, and soon. You’ll have to embrace a part of yourself you don’t trust to survive it.”

“What’s that mean wizard?” Dinky asked. “Is she going to die?”

“It’s up to her, I think.”

“Well I’ll stay and bodyguard her then. She’ll be safe with me.”

“I don’t think you will have anything to do with it, Dinky. But I don’t know.”

“Wait, your cup is on the table too,” Jemnie pointed out. “What’s your future?”

“Just the same as every time I check. I have no future. This spell won’t tell me anything, because it’s not for someone with a curse like mine. And besides, I’m inside my own fate. Its never easy, discovering your own fate.”

“What now?” Marie wondered aloud. “What about Mama?”

“The spell only connects to your futures, not hers.”

“What about our cases?” Marie asked. “Are we going to find the Raven Queen? What about Kett?”

“I scried ages ago, and the message I got was a series of clues: Luna, Shadow, Cast, Wizard, Knowing, Stolen, Stillness. This scry showed me the coming moon and a shadow too. Somethings looms over all of us. Something will happen soon, because this spell hardly ever sees farther than a few days. Marie and I have almost all the pieces. Just a few more and I feel certain we’ll find the Raven Queen. As for Kett, he’s the Copper’s problem.”

“I’m stay’n, its too late for me to start new with the Stags, even if they’d ‘ave me.” Dinky said. “But, I’d like to see if Stella can come live ‘ere away from … you know.”

“I’ll visit tomorrow, I think. I’ll bring Marie along, and we’ll see if we can see her.”

And, as he said, Marie and Poe visited the parlor the next day. To Marie’s surprise, it wasn’t closed. But, there was a new bouncer beside the doorway, tarp over the windows, and the door had been obviously broken.

The bouncer was barely dressed well enough to be an employee. Instead of sharp black, he wore a carefully mended suit that was frayed at the cuffs and had brass buttons.

“Ah customer, we are undergoing some change in management.” Despite the cheerful tone, the thin and slightly disheveled pack member looked a little disapproving of Poe.

Marie frowned disapprovingly back. He wasn’t presenting the neat and orderly appearance a proper employee ought to have. If Madam were here, she’d scold him for his less than professional appearance. His buttons should have at least been silver.

The man lowered his voice and tried to sound gentle. “Of course, young lady, if you need any help, we can assist you.”

‘Help? Oh, I guess that explains it. He thinks Master Poe might be one of those,’ Marie thought. Marie would have flushed with embarrassment, except she knew the entire idea was ridiculous. It was a nice offer though. Madame have never allowed that in the Parlor either, but Morrows in general didn’t stop it. The pack member might be shabby, but still an improvement.

Poe, oblivious as always, didn’t even seem to notice.

“I’m not here for a massage.” Poe replied. The enforcer glared harder. But, Poe continued, “we’re here to see your cleaning lady. This is her daughter.”

The pack enforcer relaxed and smiled with relief, then he furrowed his brows.

They needed to get past him, and into the servant passages. If she looked the part of worried daughter, it would be easier for them to get by. Marie tried to look vulnerable and sad. It wasn’t hard.

“Tough couple of days.” The enforcer said. “I dunno who stayed. There aren’t many customers, a bunch of employees ran out, and the … former bouncers aren’t exactly working here any more. But, we’re trying to do right by the employees. I can ask the proprietress.”

The enforcer lead them to the front room, which Marie noted had some new furniture. If there was any destruction from the violence, they new owners had covered it well. Behind the reception counter was a familiar face. One of the younger masseuse, Celcily, dressed in a clean white outfit.

“Little Marie! You’re ok!”

The young woman ran around the counter and gave Marie a hug.

“Hey, is Mama … here?” Marie whispered cautiously. The pack member hadn’t gone to get whoever was in charge yet, and Marie felt uneasy. Celcily leaned close and whisper in Marie’s ear.

“She’s in the back. The cleaning staff helped Dinky and some of the other Morrow bouncers escape, and there’s a pack lady been watching them.” Then, standing up straight, Celcily said “Your mother is in the back. I can take her, can’t I?”

The pack enforcer shrugged. “There aren’t any customers this early in the morning anyway.”

Marie and Poe were lead back to the laundry. Celcily’s upbeat smile disappeared as soon as they were out of sight.

“The Pack doesn’t have the faintest clue how to run this place.” Celcily said. “Madame wants Stags to intervene and let her run it.”

“She can do that?” Marie asked.

“Lord Stag knows that Madame done right by us.”

Marie entered the laundry, but Poe stayed outside. He explained that this way Mama would recall the conversation better. If Marie need him, he’d stay close.

It was unnaturally quiet and calm. No one was in the room but Mama, not even the Pack minder. Mama sat in a chair, just staring off into the distance. Marie didn’t even know that the laundry even had a chair. Normally, in the laundry, everyone stood and worked and moved the heavy laundry from washtub to rinsetub to dryer. Stilling had no place in the work.

“Mama?”

“Marie, thank goodness!” Mama jumped up and straight into an embrace with Marie.

“Are you ok? Did Dinky find you? Did Kett? You weren’t near the explosion were you? And the fires?”

“I’m ok Mama. I”m ok.” Mama wasn’t crying exactly, but she smothered Marie in a long hug.

Mama took a some time to calm down. When Marie finally asked about the employees, Mama explained.

“Most of cleaning staff quit. A lot of us were here because of debt.”

“Not you though.”

“No … not me. No. I was here for other reasons,” Mama said.“All the dbtors quit when they realized that Morrows’ debt collectors wouldn’t be after them anymore.”

“Will the parlor close?” Marie had spent years here. It wasn’t a good place to grow up, but it felt weird that the Hands, Hearts, and Palms would just empty like a watering can, to make a hollow empty sound when you tap on the side.

“Madame is still here, with a man watching her from the Stags. For the white robe staff, this is just what they do, so they aren’t ready to strike out on their own. But, I think the Stags just make sure Madame doesn’t funnel any money back to the remaining Morrows. They’re around, but they’ve been kicked good. I don’t know if there will even be any Morrows in a month.”

“Mama. You don’t need to stay. You can come with us. Dinky would like that, I think.”

“I would, but, he’s dead you know. Your Papa?” Mama Stella began to cry. “I hardly spent any time with him. And, he was an abusive f…fool. But he wasn’t a bad man, really. He still loved his family.” Mama sniffled.

“We might have to disagree there.” Marie muttered.

“No. He was better than he got credit for.” Mama wiped the tears away. “He left me something, enough to get out of the city and set up. I got a note shoved under the door. There’s an account.”

“He did?” Marie felt shocked.

“Yes, sweetie. We could go together.”

Poe’s tea leaf reading. He said that she wouldn’t leave. But, what if he was lying. What if she would, and he said what he did to convince her to stay? The thing to do, obviously, would be to go. Or, what if this that moment he mentioned, the moment she would be at bad risk?

Marie had it on the best authority, Master Poe, that divination was unreliable. Now she understood why. How was she supposed to know what it meant?

Marie looked at Mama. She really loved her. But.. Marie wasn’t going to leave the city. She wanted more magic. She wanted more mysteries.

“Mama, I need to stay in the city and learn from Master Poe. I want to be a sorcerer.”

Mama didn’t fight Marie over her decision. She smiled, though teary.

“You were always different. I knew you had some magic blood. A drop of the People, Prognos, or maybe Fey from somewhere. Whatever it is, you become a success, ok? I’ll sent you a letter when I’ve found a place out of the city, if you want to come visit.” Mama smiled at her daughter.

Marie’s eyes watered. Marie decided that she was not crying. It was the laundry soap. Something had irritated her eyes. Mama didn’t seem to mind.

“You better go, in case the Pack enforcer decides to check on us. I’ll leave the city tonight and write to you.”

“I love you Mama.”

“I love you too.”

They didn’t leave immediately, but Mama did take them out the back way. She felt that they would be less likely to cause trouble. Master Poe seemed to feel that the bouncer wouldn’t remember him anyway, so they probably didn’t need to worry.

As they walked back toward the Agency, Poe uncharacteristically paused at window displays along the way.

“That’s something,” Poe eventually said.

“Something?” Marie asked.

“There’s a meeting tomorrow.”

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 58: No Safe Way

Frank Poe

Month 1, Day 20, 9:00 PM

Frank made it to the meeting’s building early. He wore his dark suit and coat but he’d also made some modifications. He had added an unnoticeability charm to deal with any potential followers, and he had added a defensive ward that would deal with the typical attacks that he’d seen from the Morrows. They probably wouldn’t remember him, but actively casting had annoyed him.

He and Marie had consulted Frigg, and she seemingly approved his attendance. She also seemed to want Marie to go with him. For Frank, this was as ominous as disapproval. The tea reading had suggested danger, but … it was as if danger was unavoidable.

Frank couldn’t bring Maire into the meeting, but he could have her wait nearby. So, Dinky and Marie waited not far away, ready to help him tail the illicit Stag healer. Obviously, following another member home was absolutely banned. So, naturally, he planned to not get caught. They had had the little enchanted diaries which they would use to communicate and coordinate their surveillance like they had for Silverling.

Frank reckoned Canelo would attend tonight, unless the University already found the Raven Queen. Frank reasoned that wouldn’t be calling on the Morrows for help. It was obvious the organization was practically dead. Its network of intimidation broken, and the Pack and Stags taking its place. If not a seamless transition, the new criminal overlords had taken control of the biggest of the Morrows’ businesses. Humane might not be the way to describe their work, but Frank actually saw some Stag enforcers stop some looting on the way to the meeting.

Who would Canelo’s bosses at the University turn to now?

With Dinky and Marie sulking nearby, enchantments prepared, and pipe in an inner pocket, Frank knocked at the door. He gave the password and passed into the meeting hall. Frank selected a chair in an unobtrusive corner.

Some of the usual people didn’t arrive. With the coppers out, Frank reckoned some of the members probably felt safer staying home. Only the more opportunistic and desperate were likely to come tonight.

But even so, a small group of core members gossiped about the gang war, and Frank could help but listen in. He wondered what people had seen, and their perspective. It started with complaints about the disruption of business, although some found themselves with new customers to deal with destroyed property and protective charms. For some, this was little more than a swindle, But then, the conversation turned to the destruction property and injured as Canelo arrived with a new compatriot in tow. Frank kept half an ear on the conversation while watching for others.

Silva arrived soon after. Canelo and Silva still had the same shoes. Frank wondered if anyone ever realized that to truly disguise yourself, you need to replace every item of clothes. He smiled gratefully for their laziness, or maybe he should just be glad they were poor.

Although, Silva had take extra precautions to change her appearance. Her hair seemed blacker than normal. And, under her dark hood, Frank noticed that she’d decorated her hair with feathers. That seemed odd. Like she had become a follower of the Raven Queen, like the pack member who accused Marie the night of the gang war.

But the whole room began to join the argument. A woman turned to one arguing group, incensed over the Stags instigation of the war. Fair enough, but what annoyed Frank was that she accused one rumormonger of lying about the Stags. She was particularly scathing. Her conclusion, “‘Meet the new boss! Nothing like the old boss. No, really, we promise!’” finally had Frank irritated enough to speak up.

“I’ve actually lived in Verdant Stag territory.” Frank observed mildly. “Whatever you want to say about them attacking and causing all this, I can tell you first hand that they do what they say. I’m not claiming the leader is some bleeding-heart altruist, but they really do have enforcers to protect the people.” Poe thought about meeting with the Stag healer, the manager, the apothecary, and how he’d actually seen Stags help. He continued: “There’s an alarm system set up on the edge of every street corner. If there’s a crime, or a fire, or you’ve been trampled by a horse, you can pull the Verdant Stag flag and a team will come to help you. And they have a little apothecary set up in the back of their headquarters with the cheapest prices I’ve ever seen. They can’t be making a profit off that.”

Frank suddenly felt uncomfortable. The young healer seemed to take notice, and now Frank regretted speaking. Some of the brewing might have been hers. It was marked “SS” after all. He did not know her last name, but it might have been her. He didn’t need to stand out, considering what he planned.

The argument continued, but Frank withdrew from it. He’d drawn too much attention already. The meeting eventually came to order, and the offers started.

Cannello’s new companion offered some standard magic that would be close to the journeyman skill level or beyond. Frank concluded he must have been another student. Even if not, he took a tidy haul of acceptances, because he’d offered useful, practical spells. He may not have experience, but he certainly had a good head on his shoulders. Frank wondered how Canelo managed to convince him to come with her.

When the meeting switched to requests, Frank noted the Silva began requesting items that could be used to heal. In response, Canelo seemed especially restless. Frank wondered if she had the same idea: the masked healer was a Verdant Stag ally.

The meeting moved on to requests. Canelo went first.

“I am requesting any information on what has happened to the leadership of the Morrows, or other members of the organization, and if they are captured, where the Stags keep them.” Canelo’s voice came out a bit loud and fast, like she’d held a stone in her mind!s grasp that she needed to throw away as quickly as possible.

Frank had to actively struggle with himself from covering his face with his hands. ‘She’s an idiot.’ Frank thought. She could have hired him, or even another investigative firm, to find that information. Although, perhaps, she could not hire him easily. This was mundane, easily discoverable information. Frank even knew how he’d go about it, with no magic required. ‘What possessed her to ask a bunch of illegal mages to sell out an organization of questionable legality?’ Frank’s thoughts spun out with the possible ways this question would go wrong. ‘She might not even make it back to the University alive. No wonder she brought a friend. She needs a bodyguard.’ Frank reckoned the crowd would be reluctant.

His prediction proved accurate. Some generally known information came out. She continued to press. ‘Oh, clear skies and good weather,’ Frank thought, ‘she’s asked about the Stag’s security arraignments.’ The University had sent her down here with a mission to get her killed.

He considered keeping an eye on Canelo instead of the healer. He decided not. His priority was to contact Siobhan Naught for Professor Lacer, not interpose himself in gang politics. She’d have to look after herself. Although, toward the end of the meeting, he noticed the healer had her head turned toward Canelo as well.

Frank reckoned that the funny thing about tailing people was that they always looked behind themselves. So, Frank left before the feathered healer to keep track of her better. He scribbled a note to Marie and Dinky so that they would know what he planned.

Frank used the unnoticability charm in his coat to wait for the Stag healer to leave the meeting. He blatantly watched the door for her to leave from across the street, but the charm worked perfectly, and no one paid any attention to him. Still, he left on his mask. It wouldn’t do to be easily recognized by the organizers.

The night turned cold and foggy. Frank wished he had the koi coat. The coat was a proper artifact. Frank’s dark coat was hardly a substitute, and not as warm in winter or cool in summer. After writing Marie a note, he turned up the collar against the damp, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Silva ended up leaving quite late, and she hurried into an alley. Frank followed cautiously, and saw her cast a spell. He recognized it. A compass divination.

She took off at a brisk pace in the direction of the University. Surprised, Frank wrote another note to Marie and Dinky to meet him a few blocks north, and the would swap the tail, while he would try to get ahead of her.

That turned out to be difficult at first, because the healer practically ran to follow another familiar pair of figures. Canelo and her companion.

Frank suddenly had a bad feeling. Marie and Dinky he joined him, and they trailed behind in the fog.

“She’s following Canelo.”

Marie and Dinky appeared startled.

“What do we do? Your note said that Canelo asked about the Morrow prisoners.”

“We follow the healer,” Frank said. “She’s walking too fast, so we’ll split up. I’ll try to get ahead of her. Canelo is likely headed to the University, although she may be headed to a Morrows contact. I’m going to try to get ahead of them. Follow, but don’t be seen. Dinky, if you have to, carry Marie. Marie, use the magic sensing spell to quiet your footsteps, and follow their wands, from a side street if you can.”

“I don’t need to be carried!” Marie protested.

“I’m going.” Frank broke into a light jog, counting on the unnoticability charm to keep the healer from looking his way.

Frank passed her on a side street, but managed to nearly reach Canelo, before he turned back to watching Silva. She clearly tried to follow Canelo, but Canelo’s paranoia had her looking over her shoulder trying to spot threats. If she’d had any sort of magic to overcome the enchantment on Frank’s coat, she would have spotted him. As it was, she may have spotted Silva. Frank wrote a message for Marie and Dinky to work their way ahead, while he stayed put to allow Silva to stride past.

Frank and Marie were able to keep this sort of rotation going for several blocks, the Silva decided to veer off.

“S taking side streets,” Marie scrawled. “S going toward Univ.”

Frank kept moving. He walked briskly to catch up from where he’d hidden. In the fog, he noticed that he was still walking parallel to Canelo and her companion.

Then, his surveillance all fell apart in an instant.

Silva lost track of Canelo, but Canelo and her companion split up, and headed in different directions. Once he realized what was hapoening, Frank tried to circle around and get to a quiet spot where he could watch the healer without getting caught by Canelo.

When he finally found a dark corner to observe from, he saw Silva crouched on the ground, casting her locator spell.

Through the fog, two figures converged on the healer. Canelo and her companion. Frank breathed slowly, calming his nerves. Whatever the reason Silva had followed Canelo, Canelo was an amateur spy. She could do just about anything, and was not likely to be very rational.

From the foggy side street where he sulked, Frank could only hear the murmur of Canelo’s voice.

There was a flash of fire.

“Stop!” Canelo shouted. Wands pointed. Silva’s empty hands went up.

Frank flipped open his notebook and scrawled a message to Marie and Dinky to stay back.

Canelo was ruining everything. Frank tried to decide how he might extract the healer without hurting the University students, when things got worse.

He drifted closer to them, counting on the ward to keep him unnoticed. He readying his pipe to intervene, but didn’t light it, because he worried the smell would give him away.

“Step away from the wall, into the street.” Canelo commanded. Silva complied. “Don’t move.” Canelo sounded commanding, but Frank also thought she sounded anxious.

‘This is not good. I am too far away.’ Frank thought. ‘If I try to stop them, someone is going to get hurt.’

“Check what they were doing there,” Canelo said. The young man rummaged through the healer’s box, and informed Canelo that the she was using divination. Silva remained silent. They moved closer to a streetlamp, so it would be even more difficult for Frank to approach.

Frank drew the Pearl from his pocket, and palmed it to fight with his pipe. He now wished he had bought a new conduit, but there hadn’t been time. The Pearl would be a terrible choice for contesting the will of the students. He could do it, but the pearl might shatter, and he didn’t want that. Nor would they be easily fooled by illusions; University students wouldn’t take long to discover his tricks. ‘Perhaps a sound?’ he considered while Canelo began to interrogate Silva.

Then Canelo did something even worse. She fired off a red flare.

Frank watched it go up, cursing to himself. Even in the fog, it would be visible for blocks. This territory had been claimed by the nightmare pack—he’d seen the graffiti of glowing eyes—but the Morrows were not completely gone. He’d seen the red M on nearby buildings.

Canelo continued her interrogation. She wanted to know why Silva followed her.

Marie wrote Frank a warning: “The red flare called Morrows. Who?”

“Canelo.” Frank replied.

“I can see you. Join?”

“Not yet. Be careful.” Frank located Marie and Dinky, sulking in an alley down the street. Marie was a little patch of extra dark darkness, and Dinky loomed like a shadow behind her.

Frank tried to find a better hiding place, but he could only get so close.

“It’s not you I want, Tanya Canelo.” Silva said.

‘What?’ Frank’s thoughts shouted. ‘She couldn’t have learned Canelo’s name at the meeting.’

“How do you know my name?” Canelo asked.

“You have chosen your alliances poorly.”

‘This doesn’t sound like that Silva at all.’ Frank thought. A feeling of wrongness spread through Frank. ‘It’s the same voice. But. She’s speaking entirely differently. Who is this?’

“They use you for their own ends,” the person called Silva said. “They ignore your fear and your attempts to reason with them. When you are alone and in need, will they return your loyalty? Or will you be tossed aside and silenced, an inconvenient liability?”

The other two fidgeted, wands dipping.

The person Frank thought was Silva, continued in an ominous tone: “I have seen your shadow pace at night as sleep evades you, Tanya Canelo. You still have a chance to walk away tonight, to return to your bed and your troubled dreams without true harm.”

Frank began to slot facts into their proper places. The Verdant Stag had a new representative at the meetings. Likely an underworld figure. The Stags were the only ones who know how to contact Siobhan Naught. She was familiar with blood magic.

Blood magic and healing magic were separated by legal walls so thin you could push your finger through them.

So, what if Siobhan Naught had taken on the identity of a friendly healer? This could explain how she’d hidden. She had not. She wandered the city pretending to be someone else entirely.

Did those two even know whose tail feathers’ they just pulled?

“You’re bluffing. New—Check her bag and her pockets.”

“Newton Moore. Your family would miss you. Your Grams taught you better than this. Make a wiser choice.” Silva … no … Siobhan said.

Frank puzzled over that. How would she know with such certainly this was Newton Moore. Another student? Sebastien Silverling had helped the Stags. He met Silva/Siobahn at the Stag’s healing station. Siobhan and Sebastien had very likely met, because Sebastien sold the possessions of her father. Sebastien would probably know Canelo, wouldn’t he? He could pass along information that Siobhan could use on Canelo and Newton.

That conclusion, just like all those years ago with finding the child, felt wrong. It did not fit. Half listening to the students, Frank tried to puzzle out what was wrong. Frank didn’t have much time to think about it, however, because an argument broke out between Moore and Canelo.

“What does she mean? What does she mean, Tanya?” Moore sounded panicked. Canelo tried to avoid his question, but then the Raven Queen revealed herself.

“R. Q. disguised as Silva.” Frank wrote to Marie. “Stay out of sight. R.Q. trying to convince Canelo to let her go.”

“Morrows coming!” Marie wrote back.

Frank had no safe way of interrupting now.

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 59: The Last True Thing

Marie Morrow

Month 1, Day 20 11:05 PM

Marie wrote her note. She and Dinky squeezed further into the alley to stay out of sight. A troupe of Morrows, lead by one of Lord Morrow’s lieutenants, strode past toward the red flare. Among them, Kett Blue Eyes, sulked, still looking healthy and unmarred by his fight with Poe, but his clothes were dirty. He’d fallen quickly in his estate.

Marie shivered. Dinky calmly rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Or, maybe he was trying to keep her from launching herself at the evil man. She noticed that her fingers gripped the fighting stick enough to feel her knuckles had gone tight, and she already held it in the one handed close guard Master Poe had taught her.

The Morrows had a much easier target to confront; while Marie still observed from too far away to hear the trio, the Raven Queen and the other two still stood in the middle of the street. Observing the Raven Queen from a distance, Marie wondered how anyone could possibly confuse her with the sorcerer. ‘She’s taller and darker than I am.’ Marie groused internally.

Even outnumbered, the tall young woman exuded an eerie calm.

The confrontation went poorly for Canelo. In just a few moments, the Morrow’s leader took wands off Canelo, her companion, and the Raven Queen. Marie figured that the Morrows did not know who they had just taken captive.

‘Why doesn’t she do anything?’ Marie wondered to herself. Siobhan Naught might not be as formidable as rumored, but surely she could conjure some defense. Or, she was so confident in her abilities that she was willing the play along.

The open journal received another message from Master Poe. ‘Watch out, they are moving.’

Marie and Dinky attempted to blend into the shadows. The Morrows marched up the street, with loot and three prisoners. Marie’s spell heard a cacophony of enchanted wands as they marched past.

The Morrows missed her.

Master Poe joined them a few breaths later, his enchantments humming in Marie’s ears.

“Let’s go. They want to find a place to confront Canelo. Apparently, these Morrows aren’t recognizing whatever bargain the University had with them,” Poe said.

“Kett is with them.” Dinky rumbled.

“I know. He must have gotten to the healing potion Marie dropped.”

“Sorry.”

“Its fine. One more item on the list of difficulties we need to overcome.”

“Shouldn’t follow,” Dinky said. “Too dangerous.”

“I am worried that Naught will go to ground. It might be months before we get this close again.” Poe shook his head. “We have to go now.”

“Okay, ” Marie said. Marie felt resolved. She was a part of the August Agency too. “I’m coming with you.”

Dinky sighed heavily. “Alright. I’ll protect you.”

Marie led the way, following the fading sound of chimes, until they reached a brick workshop with dark windows. The Morrows hammered in the main door, and found a lamp to give the room some light.

The inside of the shop, which took up and area the height of the first two floors, was filled with high-end wooden furniture, some completed and some halfway through assembly. ‘Are those … couches?’ Marie wondered as they tried to see what was happening from across the street.

The space had large windows facing the street, many of which were boarded up, likely from looters during the prior few nights.

“I’m going to get closer.” Marie told Poe and Dinky. “I want to hear what they are talking about.”

“That is a bad idea,” Dinky whispered.

“Be careful,” Poe said.

Dinky rounded on Poe. “What, why?”

“I am going to set up an unnoticability and defensive spell array over here, which might let us pull the Siobhan Naught or Canelo into it and trick the Morrows. But, if they are determined to move soon, I need to know.” Poe looked at Marie solemnly,”Be safe and stay low.”

Marie nodded, clutching the notebook in one hand and the fighting stick in the other as she flitted across the street. She hid low beneath a boarded up window midway across the storefront. She peered through a convenient crack between the boards. It was dark enough, and the gap small enough, that the gang members did not noice her peek into the shop.

Kett and another man were guarding the Raven Queen and the young man. They were just inside the door. The pair of Morrows blocked the way out. Marie heard Kett’s companion first.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” the companion said. Marie peeked to see him flick on another light and begin rummaging through the shop. Marie figured he was looking for money. Marie thought she recognized him as one of the older pickpockets, probably aged out. More likely to be an ordinary thief.

Kett’s face seemed buried in shadow, so Marie couldn’t see his expression. He had his wand out and trained on the prisoners.

Mare could see more of Siobhan Naught. The Raven Queen kept her head still, but her eyes flicked around the shop, taking everything in an calculating. On the other hand, Marie’s glimpse of the young man showed that being a captive terrified him.

Then, he took a conduit in his hands, made a circle of his fingers, and began humming.

‘Is that a spell?’ Marie wondered. Shortly, Canelo explained to the leader that the humming kept the young man from panicking.

This raised even more questions for Marie. ‘Is that spell related to my enchantment?’ The heart enchantment worked a similar way, stilling her heart and her mind. Perhaps this was an esoteric version.

Meanwhile, Canelo appeared to arguing with the Morrow leader. “So, you’re going to hold us for ransom? Ransom by who? Your bosses are all locked up, and if you’re hoping for someone to pay you, they’ll need to be free first.”

“Perhaps I just have to kill you three, strip you naked, and throw you in the nearest canal, then. If you can’t offer me anything…”

Marie wrote in the little journal, letting Poe know what was happening. She found he heart throbbing a little harder. She realized that Canelo was on a knife edge. She might not be intimidated, but the Morrow leader sounded deadly serious.

The man’s hums grew a little louder.

“I’m working to free Lord Morrow. I’m sure he’ll be in a generous mood if he knows you were helpful in doing so.” Canelo gritted out.

“Ehh…” the Morrow leader dismissed, “that’s not exactly what I’m wanting to hear, girl. Word on the street is, Lord Morrow is dead. As for the rest of them…I kinda prefer my sudden rise in station now that they’re gone. Well, if you know where Lord Morrow stashed the Morrow operation funds, I might be interested in that.”

Marie’s heart pounded. Canelo wouldn’t know, but these men took what they wanted. ‘How can she be so arrogant?’ Marie worried. Under her hood, the dark eyes of the Raven Queen flicked between the leader and Canelo. She seemed too relaxed, almost optimistic. The only sign Siobhan had any anxiety was that she fiddled with the thin wooden bracelets she wore.

“I can offer you a beast core. Three million thaums of power. One for each of us,” Tanya said. Marie gulped. That was a lot of money. More money than Marie had ever seen. More money than Poe ever made for an investigation. Every Morrow head in the room turned to look at Canelo.

“Oh?” Chief’s grin returned. “Search them,” he ordered. Marie ducked down and scribbled the situation into the communications diary.

“Come back!” Frank wrote back. Marie checked to see if anyone would spot her. The thief, who had been rifling around the shop, reached for a bag at the humming man’s feet.

Marie found herself listening to the that hum. It sounded strange; like the lowest four notes of one of a melodions—a free reed keyboard instrument—played at the same time.

“I’d like to propose a counter offer,” the Raven Queen said slowly, almost regally. Marie—still transfixed by the hum—turned her attention to Siobhan’s sonorous warm voice. “You can ransom both us and our belongings from someone who can afford it. You have the authority to treat with other gang leaders, as the new head of the Morrows, I assume?”

“And who are you?” the leader asked. Marie’s heart was beginning to pound painfully. She wasn’t sure she could run anywhere. The hum grew louder.

‘She is the Raven Queen.’ Marie thought.

The thief turned and faced the Raven Queen. He gasped. His wand flashed up, and pointed at Siobhan. “It’s a trap! It’s her! Run, run away, it’s her!”

Marie had no time time to react as the thief clicked the button on the wand and a fireball shot out. Marie shut her eyes for a moment, imagining that the Raven Queen would be consumed. When she reopened her eyes, at first, Marie couldn’t understand what she was seeing.

‘She’s … not dead.’ The Raven Queen held the fireball in her hands, a terrifying grim expression on her face. Then, with a smooth motion the fireball flicked to the side, and into the wall of the shop.

Everything went wrong. Wands turned toward Naught. But that also meant they were pointed toward the front wall of the shop, not far from where Marie hid.

The Raven Queen cast a spell and a great shadow loomed up from the floor.

Poe’s creatures had been dark and smokey. This felt entirely different. Shadows were rarely entirely black. In this instance though, Marie would describe the creature as if it were a hole in the world. It’s beaked raven-like face leaned over the Raven Queen’s shoulder.

Everyone else started shooting, including the thief. Canelo jumped him at the thief. Marie crouched down under the windows, as the showroom of the workshop filled with the shouts and concussive strikes of spells. She glanced across the street, and Master Poe began to sprint toward her.

Even in the misty darkness, she could see he’d removed his mask. His orange eye blazed like a fire had been lit in it. A pinpoint of embers glowing in the dark.

And then, it all ended.

Everything.

Marie prided herself in being able to recall everything she ever saw, heard, or experienced. She could recall every word that she’d ever heard, every picture she’d ever seen. Sometimes she’d rather forget. This was one of those times.

What she experienced in that moment was impossible to describe. The world smelled of terror, the sky tasted like cotton, and the light turned the opposite. For a brief moment, it was as if the last true thing in the world had become a lie. It was wrongness beyond description.

In less than the space between two heartbeats, the world became real again.

Marie collapsed, half alert even still, but shocked in terror. Her heart pounded in her ears. Poe stumbled and fell in the middle of the street, like a drunk unable to keep his feet.

For a moment, there was no sound. No voices. No rumbling carts. Not a shout or a cry. Nothing.

Marie, lying on the ground, utterly confused, just stared at Poe. He appeared completely unconcious. Like he was dead. Then, he opened his eyes, and Marie saw terror there.

Dinky finally reacted, drawing out his wand and heading toward them both.

Just as he made his first step, Marie felt the sound. The vibration of a low thrum of a single musical note was in the air, in the ground, and coming from every direction. Marie blinked and tried to raise her head from the pavement.

Then, the screaming started.

[none_listed]

This is definitely the best fanfiction I think I’ve ever read. I can also see you careening towards some sort of planned ending. I do understand wanting to write a complete story. I do hope you consider other fanfictions in future perhaps though. I hope this comment doesn’t clutter your thread but I can’t find a discussion thread for this fan fiction elsewhere to post in (but I’m not particularly used to this forum format. So maybe I missed it. If so sorry.)

Edit: Careening in a positive way like a spy movie with too many bombs and not enough minutes left before the next movie showing is due to start on your watch.

[JKlarinet]

Thank you very much for your praise. It makes it feel worthwhile when others enjoy my scribblings. Feel free to comment right here. And yes, careening is exactly how this seems to be going.

[JKlarinet]

Chapter 60: Becalmed

Marie Morrow

Month 1, Day 20 11:20 PM

Growing up where she had, Marie had heard shouting before. Upset voices.

This scream was nothing like that at all. The man’s scream started low, like a shout, and then went high and keening. Marie knew what butchering a pig sounded like. The scream sounded like that. And, what’s more, it sounded like Kett.

Marie felt a massive thump against the front wall. Like someone had taken tub full of water and dropped it on the floor. The screaming didn’t stop.

Marie shifted herself and tried to raise herself into a half crouch. She wasn’t sure what magic the Raven Queen had unleashed, but the best thing to do would be to run from it.

Marie had barely even had the thought, when more thumps struck the wall, the windows, and the front door. Heavy pounding that blasted the boards over the windows into splinters. Pieces of them scattered all around her. Terrified, heart pounding out of control, Marie curled up in a ball behind what was left of shop wall. Other magic projectiles soared out of the shop: fire, cutting spells, concussive thumps.

“Kill it!” the Morrow leader screamed.

Marie finally peeked her head through the ruined windows to see what it was that they were terrified of.

It looked like pink and white yarn floating in water. Only, the yarn floated in the air, and was glossy and smooth. Marie realized that the sound came from it. Even as she watched it float and strings waved through the air, the wands’ magic crashed into it. Glowing force, slicing cuts, even fire, seemingly went through it. Like punching water, or honestly, like punching string. It just wobbled and returned to its position.

Marie would have laughed, if the dark ball of flesh and blood colored threads at its center had not had the shape of a human, or if the strings did not appear to grow and stretch like reaching fingers. And, of course, if the sense of deep wrongness did not make Marie’s mind soundlessly scream with the danger of it.

An aberrant. Master Poe had explained it. At the time, it had seemed very logical. When a sorcerer lost control, they would stop being a magical creature and instead become a creature of magic. Aberrants were never benevolent hug monsters.

The strings splayed and drifted, growing and stretching, red and white and meat colored. Kett had his mouth open, screaming in a panic. His wand made a clicking noise as he attempted to activate uselessly, over and over.

Then, the a string touched him. It jusy caressed his neck, like a mother trying to calm an unruly child. His skin bulged out like a soap bubble, or a flower bud.

Out of the bubble came string, like pulling on the thread of a sweater. Except, the sweater was Kett. His neck began unravelling into strings of his flesh and blood.

Marie knew the basics of knitting and sewing, of course. A laundress needed to know how to repair garments. There wasn’t much call to knit, because the clothes at the parlor were finely woven, to give the impression of wealth and sophistication. But, Marie had once seen a sweater snag on a wooden washtub, and when it was pulled, half of the cursed thing almost magically became a ball of yarn.

Kett, however, very magically did become a loose ball of yarn. His throat opened and unravelled, and his screaming stopped. Then the strings went up and down, still floating, separating his body from his head, unwinding his eyes and brain, and moving down changing his flesh and blood into a vibrating smooth yarn.

Marie wanted to scream. Want, perhaps, isn’t strong enough a word. She would have screamed and screamed and thrashed to get away and shouted and cried and run and run and run. Her entire body flooded with panic.

But, the familiar enchantment slipped all that fear off into a corner of her mind, and stopped the panic. Her heart had been beating frantically, but now is pumped along regular slow heartbeats, although her mind gibbered at her to flee. She just watched the floating string vibrate and hum, while the Morrows uselessly spent their wands against the aberrant.

Silent, Marie crouched against the wall and ducked her head down below the shattered window frame. The people-string was drifting out through the shattered walls. Logically she knew she should be moving. She didn’t. She wasn’t just calm, but also becalmed.

Kett was dead. She didn’t really feel anything. He deserved it.

Slicing spells were shooting out into the fog. The lamps inside the shop lit up the fog and made it impenetrable white. But, from Marie’s kneeling position, she could see along the ground where Dinky threw himself to the ground to avoid the spells. He began crawling toward Poe.

Poe seemed to be awake. Marie saw him struggling to his hands and knees,

‘They are very brave, aren’t they?’ Marie thought. She didn’t have hope. Or fear. Or anger. Or anything really. The threads crawled through the remains of the window, and Marie watched them spread out and inching closer, vibrating and floating. ‘Magic is pretty amazing, isn’t it? I wonder if I would have been a good sorcerer?’

The tendrils moved slowly toward Marie, their erratic progress influenced sporadically as spells struck the unravelled yarn of dead men. Marie just watched them for a bit.

The screaming, the shouting behind her in the shop all seemed to fade. Everything was the fascinating low vibrations. One of the Morrows slammed repeatedly into a barred door, shouting and pounding in panic. But, the humming took up all the space in her thoughts.

If it touches you, you die. Marie knew she was scared of dying. One of the strings caressed her cheek. It felt very soft. Not soft like yarn. Soft like the caress of a mother.

In this strange forced calm, Marie heard Master Poe’s quiet voice. He was chanting something. She recognized it from his lessons on esoteric spells.

Put we on the spirit armor,

to stand against the lies,

for we fight not flesh and blood;

but against powers,

against darkness,

against wickedness.

Therefore, take up the armor, resist the evil, and stand with all things real.

Today I gird myself,

With the Radiance of the sun,

Mystery of the moon,

Brilliance of fire,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Firmness of earth.

In the middle of the street, he was dancing in the circle pearl in his hands. He did the dance three times, and Marie could feel something. Something like a warm blanket in the cold.

Poe finished his third chant, turned and looked straight at Marie, and at the bit of aberrant that drifted in front of her. He ran straight in close to the floating yarn, snagged her under her arms, and leapt backward, dragging her up and running away.

She felt a little dizzy.

Poe began immediately checking himself and Marie over.

“They are all going to die.” Marie observed. “Is Dinky dead? I don’t see him.” Marie peered around. “I think I should be more upset, you know?” She continued. “Kett became strings. Like little thin ones. All inside colored.”

“Sh. sh. sh.” Poe tried to calm Marie. “You’re alright. Dinky is alright. I sent Dinky to get the Red Guard.”

Marie was calm. But it wasn’t natural. She wasn’t sure if she could ever leave this state now. Because it was all right there in her memory. How Kett didn’t just die, but was unmade.

“Do you think the Raven Queen will live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did the pounding stop?”

“I think the man pounding on the door … touched it.”

“Oh.” Marie imagined him unravelling, terrified and helpless to do anything about it.

“We have to run and tell someone. I’ll carry you. I sent Dinky to the Red Guard, because I worried the Coppers would arrest him. But, we can head to the Coppers. They have artifacts they can trigger.”

“Ok.” This all seemed very logical to her. She didn’t have any real emotions about it.

Poe scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck. They ran just to the cross street when a trio of unfamiliar copper patrollers seemingly appeared through the fog, bright lamps lighting their way.

“Help!” Poe hailed them.

“What’s going on?” One of them said suspiciously.

“A furniture shop. There’s a fight going on—between gangs—and a sorcerer lost control and broke. There’s an Aberrant. I saw it.” Poe said breathlessly. Marie thought he sounded like he had more than a little bit of feigned panic in his voice.

“An sorcerer? In this part of the city? Why?”

“It is an aberrant I tell you. Down the street.”

“Let’s not create an unnecessary panic.” The patroller in charge said. “You stay here with these two,” he gestured to the youngest copper, “and we’ll go check. Just down the street?”

Poe nodded. “Let me write it down for you.”

“I can remember.” The copper scoffed. The two coppers strode down the street, narrow beams of their spotlight lanterns making the fog glow like the halos of radiant angels. The hum had faded, but Marie could still hear it. There was an echo of it in her ears. Or, she could just be imagining it. She still felt her heart thumping slow and steady.

“So, let me take you back to the station, its not far.” The young copper said.

“Shelter,” Poe replied. “We are going to a shelter because there is an aberrant right over there, and we need to get behind wards.”

“Look, we are having people complain about gangsters two days straight, and they think we don’t answer quick enough. Plenty of people been crying aberrant to get our attention, and when the sergeant comes back, you’ll be able to explain why you lied just like all the others.”

“Idiot,” Poe said.

Marie looked back down the street from Poe’s arms. The coppers had not disappeared completely into the fog. She could still see their lights trained on the string filled doorway of the shop. They said something, but it was still too far.

“Aberrant! Call the Red—” The lead copper suddenly screamed, but his scream cut off and his lamp fell to the ground. Marie couldn’t see exactly, but she thought she could make out him becoming a new floating mass of string at the door.

‘Oh,’ Marie thought, ‘that was quick. I wonder if everyone inside is already dead.’ The other copper began yelling incoherently, while voices from the building began calling for help. ‘I guess not.’

“Your alarm artifact!” Poe hissed at the copper. “Activate it!”

The young copper looked at him dumbfounded. “I don’t have one. Budget cuts.”

The remaining copper down the street began casting stunning spells.

“I have to put you down,” Poe told Marie.

She allowed him to stand her on her feet. Poe took out his pipe and lit it. He held it in front of him almost like he was offering it to someone, with the pearl in one hand and pipe in the other, then he muttered something, and suddenly a barrier sprang up between the copper down the street and the aberrant.

Seeing the barrier, the copper near the building stumbled away from the aberrant’s strings at the door.

“Go get your partner and sound the alarm!” Poe snarled at the young copper. “And, whatever you do, don’t touch the aberrant!”

…

I always planned to actually have an ending to this fan fiction. Yesterday, I wrote it.

[JKlarinet]

I’ve decided that the last couple of chapters will just be posted on Royal Road. August Agency (a PGTS fanfiction) | Royal Road

Maybe I’ll put this whole thing together in an ePub at some point. It’s 150 thousand words, and probably the longest single piece of writing I have ever done. Now that I write that sentence, I realize that I’m not sure I would have set out to do this if I had thought of it that way when I started.

Serialized fiction is amazing stuff. I never would have thought it was this much fun to write, and I really appreciate everyone’s support that have read this story and told me that they like it.

I love stories. I’d almost say that I love all stories, but that’s not entirely true.

What always surprises me about stories is that I can rarely explain why I love one story in particular. I know, on the surface, why a story is written well. We have a vast army of academics who have studied the story for two centuries, and I have absorbed some of their thoughts and can tell you what they say. Moreover, I can apply their analysis to the stories I read. Thus, I can tell you, with ease, when a story is written badly.

But, that hardly ever explains why a story is one of my favorites.

The stories I really like (like PGTS) are the ones that trigger my first memories of reading a book under the covers with a flashlight. Back to a time when stories are more important than sleep. Those stories where I must know what happens next.

There’s no hard and fast formula for it: Fairy tales, Frankenstein, The Time Machine, Lord of the Rings, Foundation and Earth, Earthsea, The Last Unicorn, Taran Wanderer, The Riftwar Saga, Discworld, Mistborn, etc. I love all of these stories, but I couldn’t tell you why I love them particularly without just retelling the story. It’s a mysterious power that stories hold.

Some have argued that we love stories when we empathize with the characters. If that were true, why do I like Jack Reacher? He’s nothing like me. And why Siobhan Naught? She a different gender, with different skills, lives in a magical world, with a different political structure, different laws, and different education. I would be hard pressed to think of someone less like me. And yet, I like the story of Siobhan Naught considerably more than large number of real people.

This post is just a long way of saying that this fan fiction is my love letter to the story of the Raven Queen and Siobhan Naught. It comes closer than any essay in explaining why I love PGTS.

I hope you liked it.

[none_listed]

Isaac assimov has a famous quote I’m going to misquote. Where in he says that fantasy and science fiction allow a study of the human condition or a window into the soul and it is in my opinion not his anymore I’ve left the quote now…. That we are empathizing with that. We don’t need to be anything like a character to empathize with their humanity or their soul. And I love fantasy and science fiction personally because there are no details of reality no details at all to fog up or get in the way of said window. The window Isaac assimov referred to and well also he helped create it. We’ve only had this sort of thing for 150 years or so. Ancient epic tales were more about morality or politics or religon or teaching. At least that’s my take.