Month 12, Day 4, 7:30AM

Frank Poe

When Frank awoke, it seemed the horses stomping on his head had finally taken a break and cantered off. The headache and nausea had faded to a mild feeling of eyestrain. In a few days, he’d probably be able to cast spells.

For the first time in a lomg time, he was looking forward to it.

Finally, for Marie, he could demonstrate a simple spark shooting spell, prepare some simple alchemy, and introduce her to something esoteric, so that she’d have a few, relatively safe spells to practice. Maybe he could find something to engage her imagination. He’d always enjoyed illusion.

He ate a scoop of plain white rice, adding only a few fresh beans and a dash of fish sauce while cooking it, for his breakfast. The food’s mostly mild, earthy flavors and light textures felt comfortable. At last night’s supper of boiled eggs and steamed greens, Marie had already been giving hints that she was hoping for different food. Regularly adding some flash cooked sunfish to their usual diet wouldn’t be a bad idea; Frank reckoned that she was still growing, after all.

Now there was a thought he wasn’t entirely ready to deal with. He really didn’t quite know what he would do about a girl growing into a woman, and he wasn’t sure who he could ask.

‘Surely Stella is close enough to help Marie with that sort of thing?’ Frank pressed a this slightly unsettling thought aside. But then, maybe that would be a good place to start with potions: cramp relief potions were a staple for all beginner alchemists, male and female. Women were better at them, of course.

Marie didn’t join him for breakfast, so Frank made up a bowl for her when she returned from visiting her mother. He covered it with a towel and carried it downstairs to their office. Marie had not returned, so he unlocked the outer and inner doors.

Calder was waiting for him.

“Frank. Good morning! Opening up late today? Where’s your assistant?”

“Come in, and we’ll talk in my office.”

Frank placed the food on Marie’s table and led Calder to his desk. Frank sat, but Calder did not.

“So, Frank, I spoke with the lead detective.”

“And?”

“You’re approved to see the summary reports. You have to pass on anything you think of, in writing, after your review. You’ll have to sign a blood print vow to keep the material confidential. But, otherwise, he agreed that you can get the full reward, whatever it is, if you are directly involved in the capture.”

“It’s a deal. Do you have the summaries for me at the station?”

“Yes. And the vow paperwork. My captain will handle it.”

Frank thought about it. He hadn’t entered a vow for a while; he wasn’t sure with the curse’s tendency to obscure memories whether the vow would hold. But, he didn’t expect to worry about it. He’d probably keep the vow.

“Alright; when do you want me to check this boy out?” Frank asked.

“Today, if you have the time. I’ve already got another specialist in this morning at 10; so, will you be available?”

“Yes. I’ll write you a note to deal with the curse. Carry it with you and start reading just as you leave; you may need to read it a couple of times. My notes never work as well as Marie’s.”

Calder waited patiently while Frank wrote out the content of the conversation, and took the note in hand before he left.

Frank walked him to the door. Marie had not yet arrived; this was unusual, but Frank decided that he could trust her. She was canny enough to deal with any problem that might arise. If he was feeling better, he might have scried for her; just to see if she was safe. He then decided that he would not. It was a trap many diviners could fall into; trying to know everything at all times. Becoming obsessive.

Frank knew all the stories. Diviners that would try to find their enemies through scrying; like enchanting mirrors to determine if your enemies were near. It was just as likely that you’d make enemies with that sort of paranoid nonsense.

If you wanted to destroy your enemies, make them your friends. Not that some wouldn’t set themselves against you no matter what you did …

Many sorcerers would settle their paranoia with dozens of wards. In many cases, sorcerers preferred to surround themselves in a complex web of wards and magic effects, even aside from security: remove dust, eliminate noise, fix the temperature, remove odors, and eradicate discomfort. Not Frank. He couldn’t be comfortable with magic constantly changing the environment all the time.

So, when he decided to sooth his anxiety by cleaning his pipe, he did not use magic. Instead of drawing an array on his desk and building an elaborate cleaning array, he retrieved the pipe from his coat pocket along with a waste-water cup, paper swabs, sweet nut protecting oils, and a bottle of water. Sitting at his desk, he took the pipe apart carefully, and began the process of removing the soot that accumulated in its long stem. Frank poured a little water down the length of the pipe, and he used a twist of tough tartarus-berry paper to scrub the tube.

He double checked the tiny inscriptions on the pipe and the enchantments that gave it extra strength and would allow for matchless lighting. He oiled the parts with fresh papers, and took a few moments to appreciate the fine sky kraken decoration.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The pipe was part weapon, so when reassembled, he checked that everything was threaded snug and tight in its fittings. There’s nothing more embarrassing than to have a weapon come apart mid-swing. His kiseru would block a mundane knife or club without issue, and it was surprising how few sorcerers were ready for a poke in the eye or a rap across their knuckles.

As he was putting the cleaning supplies away, there was another visitor to the agency. The apprentice girl from the University seemed to have decided to see if he was making any progress.

She came into his office and looked around a little apprehensively.

“So. I have the receipt that says I hired you, but I’m having trouble remembering the details. Are you making progress on finding the Raven Queen?”

“Yes.” It really didn't matter whether he was actually making progress or not; the only answer to this question was always ‘yes’ when a curious client asked. On the other hand, this client was problematic. “But, you may not like what I’ve found out. Your best choice, right now, is probably the Stags.”

“I can’t go to the Stags!” She replied, then blew out a frustrated sigh. “Sorry. That’s not an option.”

“You never know, things might change. But, simply put, if you want to contact the Raven Queen, they are likely to know how.”

“What do you mean, ‘likely’?”

“They won’t confirm it to me directly. If you are associated with the Morrows, you may find it difficult to get an audience.”

“How did you know I have an association with the Morrows?”

“If I didn’t before; I know now. Also, this isn’t a great place for you to meet me, is it? Having to come all the way down here from the University?”

“I …” The girl scowled. If she agreed, Frank would have confirmed another point, and she wouldn’t want that either. He saved her some self-recrimination.

“Student tokens are meant to be tracked. You can’t hide your affiliation very well if you just carry it around.” Poe said blandly. “You aren’t very good at this yet, are you? Well, that’s natural. But I wonder if your handler is very trustworthy. You can tell them I may have a better way to contact her in a week.”

The girl swallowed a retort.

“Fine. Anything else?”

“Pay me double last time. This investigation is turning dangerous. I’m in Stags territory, consorting with an ally of the Morrows, trying to find the Raven Queen. Consider it danger pay for this work.” Frank hoped this would be the end of it. Maybe raising his prices would send her to a different detective.

The girl flushed with anger, but shockingly, she shelled out the gold.

“You better find me something. This is a lot of money.”

“Next time, let’s meet closer to the University. Do you want to give me a name for a message, or shall we set up a meeting time?”

“Message. You seem to know most everything compromising anyway, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“The danger of hiring a detective is that they’ll find out more than you want them to. Don't worry, I’ll be discrete.”

The girl wrote a name for him to send messages to “Canelo” and he wrote her a receipt, reminding her in writing that the Stags would be the most likely lead. As Canelo left, Marie finally returned.

Frank met her in the front of the office to give her the money for bookkeeping and to put in the safe. She took it with a smile.

But, Poe had seen the girl’s artificial cheeriness often enough to know that something serious had happened. While Marie smiled brightly, it did not touch her eyes. If anything, her red eyes and still drying cheeks showed that she’d been crying.

If she was harassed by a local gang, Frank would want to do something about it. But first, he’d need to convince his apprentice to tell him what was wrong.

“There’s some food for you here on the table.”

“Thank you Poe.” Marie uncovered it, and sagged only slightly. It was probably cold.

“Do you really dislike the food? I could warm it.”

“No. It is fine.”

“Is something else wrong?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

“A sorcerer may err, but indecision does not suit them.” It was a strangely automatic thought.

“That doesn’t sound like you. Where does that saying come from?”

“It’s something my great aunt used to say.” Frank shrugged. “She’d also say, ‘Do it, or don’t. There’s no maybe doing it.’”

“Oh. You never talk about your family.”

“Yes.” Frank agreed. He didn’t plan to. Marie picked up the spoon and ate a biteful of rice. Frank did not let her questioning dissuade him. “I still do not have an answer to my question. If I am going to teach you, I need to know if there’s some reason you were crying.”

“Crying? I wasn’t …” Marie touched a hand to her cheek, and then nodded. “Maybe a little.”

“So?”

“Mille was beaten, and she’s hurt bad.”

“Your unlicensed thaumaturge friend?”

Marie nodded. She ate another bite of the rice.

Frank wasn’t sure what to make of Marie’s friend, prostitute, and illegal sorcerer. Marie described Millie as having “shown” Marie some magic, but Frank did not approve. Learning from an unlicensed teacher would be trouble.

Of course, that just made him a fool right along with Millie; he was not a Master and was not licensed to teach. Still, he was in a much better position than the unfortunate prostitute.

The Crown families, on the other hand, bent those rules constantly. One needed only to review the will capacity tests between the “common stock” that entered the University to the Crown families. The Crown family members always started with more. He fully intended Marie would also have this advantage.

Marie continued eating.

“What would you like to do?” Frank asked gently.

“Mama says Millie is in pain and she can’t walk very well. Can you … heal her?”

“How do you mean? I am not a healer.”

“But, you said magic can do anything, and you have access to magic …”

“Yes, and so do you. That doesn’t mean either of us can: We need to have studied healing. You’ll find that while all things are possible to magic, skill takes time to acquire. I do not have that skill.”

“But …”

“There is a simpler solution. Would you like me to hire a healer to see her?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I thought about it on the way here; the Morrows would find out and harass you, or the healer, or both. Only someone far away from their territory, or who was untouchable could risk it.”

Frank admired the maturity that thought that far ahead, although when he was at the height of his skills, the Morrows wouldn’t have dared.

Now, he was far from that point.

“We’ll think about it then.” Frank replied. “Do you want to go see a boy about a curse?”

It turned out she did.