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.