Month 11, Day 30, 8:00 AM

Marie

When Frank came back to the office Marie perked up. She’d known he’d go to the roof. There was some sort of magic involved; he called it “consulting the Raven Oracle.” But, she hadn’t seen him do it yet.

“You look terrible.” Marie observed. And he did. His face was smudged with dirt on one side, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Thank you Marie. You look like an evil witch out of a Myrddin story.” Frank replied. Marie decided that Frank was in a mood. He continued. “Now, we have to head off to the Coppers, because someone was too nosey to stay her desk.”

“Table.”

“Whatever. Come with me, and pick up that chest.”

“What … chest?” Marie asked.

Before Frank Poe pointed it out to her in that moment, Marie had never noticed. A painted wooden chest sat beside the wall of the room, resting next to the iron lockbox.

The simple chest might have been mistaken for a carpenter’s tool box if it wasn’t for the enchantments that covered it. It looked heavy. With wooden inset handles on either end, you could only carry it with two hands. It seemed to be just barely a step above a crate; Marie could see the black nailheads keeping the box together.

“That one.” Frank smiled and pointed. “It’s not as heavy as it could be, but you’re not as strong as you should be. Grab it, and follow me.”

Marie grimaced. She was not going to complain. When she picked up the box, it was surprisingly light. She’d see if that lasted; if Poe expected her to walk all the way to the nearest copper station, this was going to be a long trip.

And, for as long as she’d known him, Poe walked everywhere.

To her surprise, however, Poe called a cab. He loaded the box himself and gestured for her to join him inside.

“How much do you know about divination?” He asked as they set out.

“Well, they make the girls at some of the pleasure houses sign a blood print vow. My friend Mille, one of the ladies, told me that they can’t run away. It’s something to do with divination. Although, I’ve heard that blood magic is illegal.”

“Right.” Poe frowned when Marie mentioned Millie, her prostitute acquaintance. They had discussed Mille before; Marie told Poe about what she’d learned from her. Marie wasn’t sure if Poe disapproved of Mille teaching Marie, Millie’s employment, or that Mille was an unlicensed thaumaturge. At the parlor, Millie could cast a glamour for patrons that wanted to look a little bit more attractive for a few hours, and they used this service on some of the more homely employees. Even though she wasn’t a regular employee, Millie herself needed it. Her hairlip kept her from the usual sort of beauty that would attract the better paying customer.

At least, Marie was thankful that Poe wasn’t one of those people that seemed interested in the pleasure houses. She’d never have worked for him if he appeared to be taking advantage.

He also didn’t seem to drink, take potions, visit bars, gamble, or engage in any vices at all. It was one of the reasons Marie wasn’t too worried about her employer trying anything.

In fact, Poe was so adverse to physical contact, she wasn’t sure she’d seen Poe even shake someone’s hand.

He continued, “Those contracts use blood, because blood is the the easiest way to track a person using scrying or divination. I imagine they somehow got a bit of blood from Siobhan Naught, and we’re going to help the official diviners find her.”

“Isn’t that … illegal? It’s blood magic!” Marie announced, putting forward the persona of a completely naive teenager who was not-at-all-familiar with slimy streets of Gilbratha. Poe looked at her suspiciously.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“A little.” Marie shrugged. “Is there anything a copper can’t do?”

“Oh yes. The Red Guard has banned many types of magic, and the the Crowns forbid plenty more. Many types of divination are blood magic, and you need a license. I have one, but if I did not, I would be lucky to only go to prison. Dozens of other divination spells can only be performed with special dispensation from the Crowns. Military secrets and the like.” Poe touched his nose. “Watch everyone carefully. Touch nothing. Ask no questions of the other diviners.” Poe seemed lost in thought for a moment. “If that woman, Liza, is there, we’re going to turn around and come straight home. She might as well be Master in her own right, both in divination and enchantment. There’s no point if she’s on the case. But she has no love for coppers, and she won’t come out for a mere handful of gold.” Poe practically muttered this last thought to himself, frowning and bowing his head in thought.

“What’s the box for?”

“If the Raven Queen has been hiding behind wards, it’s useless to just try to use some sort of map scry.” Poe got quiet. “There’s something I’ll try. It is my own spell; but nothing particularly original. It’s between an augury and a divination. So, I’ll need the components in my box to prepare it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Marie asked. Poe looked straight into her eyes. Marie thought his eyes looked a bit wild.

“All magic is dangerous. All of it. Magic is not even a little bit safe.” His voice was quiet and utterly serious.

“Then why do it at all?”

“Because,” Poe replied, subdued and wistful, “magic is also wondrous.”

Marie felt a spike of anticipation. Dangerous forbidden magics. Why work for a thaumaturge if you didn’t get to see some astonishing magic from time-to-time?

When they arrived, Marie lugged the chest, while Poe lead the way, striding into the station with a swirl of color. A young female copper met him as he strode in. After a few words, they headed to top floor of the station, where, purportedly, a scrying array was set up.

Poe was right; Marie didn’t think the chest would have been heavy for other people, but carrying it made her arms tremble and the backs of her legs ache as she carried it up the flights of stairs.

They finally arrived at a corner room on the top floor.

Marie wasn’t sure why she thought scrying would be done in a smoky basement room, smelling of incense and melted candle-wax. She entirely failed to anticipate this bright clean room. If it smelled of anything, the room smelled like clean linen and lemon.

Huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows lit the room from two sides. The scrying room was almost sterile white, with a gold circle two strides across set into the floor, and a pentagram contained inside it. In the middle of the circle, a colorful painted diagram sat. Marie had never seen one that detailed before, but it looked like a map of the city - twisting roads and buildings all drawn out.

Near the windows, a group of robed thaumaturges were in the middle of an argument about which components they should be using.

“Feathers should be in the array I tell you. She favors ravens. Twice now she used ravens to talk to her father at his window.” A pale, thin-fingered man argued.

“Just because she used a bit of blood magic to control a raven doesn’t make her a raven lover. The opposite I’d think.” Another scoffed.

“Do we even have the right sorts of feathers in hand? Perhaps if we had feathers from the bird in question …” A neat gentleman in plaid suggested.

Poe seemingly ignored the argument. Instead he directed Marie to put the box down next to an open wall. He sat on the floor next to the box and began opening it.

The box had a sliding piece holding the lid in place. After Poe removed it, he then slid the entire top to the side, then lifted the lid completely off. He flipped the lid over, showing the clean light blue underside, and revealing a white circle etched in the wood.

Poe gestured for Marie to kneel next to him.

Inside the opened box she saw trays holding miniature bottles, pens and brushes, sticks of ink, chisels, etching tools, fine wire, several journal-sized books, beast cores, and a portable lamp. Taking a small beast core, he removed that layer and set it on the floor, to reveal three etched and polished flat bowls set in velvet niches: one made of black stone, one made of black horn, and one made of black clay. He slid these aside, moving the tray out of the way into some sort of expanded space recess, to reveal more small objects set in trays, glass specimen bottles, labelled paper boxes, spools of shimmering thread, and trinkets and baubles of all kinds.

Even though it seemed like Poe had reached the bottom of the box, he slid even these trays aside to reveal a velvet-lined, segmented, and carefully labeled tray. In each of dozens of tiny slots, there were cut and uncut precious and semiprecious stones: diamond, emerald, onyx, garnet, citrine, amethyst, and many others, all arraigned in a rainbow of color. In the center of these, however, was a clear, uncut, unpolished chunk of cerelium the size of her fist set in a velvet recess. Everything glimmered like, well, shiny rocks. But still! This was a fortune.

Marie suddenly wondered why Poe seemed poor at all. His dusty and book-filled office? His ridiculous couch-filled apartment? The plain all-vegetarian lunch he shared with her every day? This was at least a thousand gold worth of gems, just hidden away. No, not hidden at all; the box had been sitting in plain view in his office. Not that Marie noticed it.

Marie felt a lot less guilty about taking half the income of the agency if this was how Poe spent his money.

Poe inhaled deeply through his nose before he reached out and picked up the cerelium. He seemed relieved that nothing happened, and then he tucked it into an outside pocket of his coat.

He picked out a black onyx, a polished green citrine, and a tiny, but clear, uncut diamond, then he slid the trays back in place until only the bowls were visible. He lifted the horn bowl out of its niche and put it aside. He then replaced the top tray, but removed a pen and a bottle of red ink.

He placed the lid’s spell array facing upward on the of the box. He put the bowl on top of the lid, then he gestured for Marie to stay seated while he stood. He got the attention of the apparent leader.

“Well, well. Frank Poe.” The pale diviner with white thin bony fingers greeted him. “I thought you were still in Willowdale?”

“Themius.” Poe’s lips twitched into an insincere smile. The other diviners, and even the copper, became silent and tense. Poe shrugged. “I got better.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Marie felt jittery as the air filled with some ineffable tension. She was having a little difficulty breathing, but she wasn’t sure why. Poe’s face suddenly grew stern.

“Get control over yourselves. I am perfectly capable of casting, and I still have my journeyman’s license, if you’d like to see it.” Poe snapped.

“Of course, of course.” Themius laughed a bit too loud. “No need to prove yourself here.” Some of the others joined in with halfhearted chuckles.

The uncomfortable feeling let up. Marie felt she could breathe again.

“If that’s out of the way, has anyone bothered to scry Siobhan Naught’s nature yet? Or are you trying to guess?” Frank was being rude, again. But, the other diviners seemed to be less sure of themselves at his question. Themius was unfazed.

“I don’t know who you think Naught is, exactly, but we’ll put a little bit more will into it and I’m sure we’ll have her sussed in short order.” Themius replied.

“Do not underestimate the Raven Queen.” A coarse voice said from the doorway. A copper in a long coat, holding a box that was covered in spells, stepped into the room, flanked by two more coppers.He immediately began coughing. When the short fit ended, he continued.

“I am Investigator Kuchen, leading the investigation on the ground here in the city. The Raven Queen has been elusive and careful, and even now that we have her blood, she’s avoiding us. We’ve scried her using our resources from Harrow Hill several times since we found her blood, and she has been immune. This attempt is closer to the Mires, with locals, because we hope your familiarity with this side of the city, and proximity, will improve our chances. Now, Master Themius, are you ready for your attempt?”

“Sir, we are still working out the array.” Bony fingers replied.

“Here is her blood.” The Copper offered the evidence box to Themius. “For the rest of you, I want to remind you of the confidential nature of this investigation. You are all being paid for your time, so we expect that you will not reveal anything you see here to outsiders.”

As Themius began carrying the box to the big scrying circle, Poe pulled him aside.

“Master Themius.” Poe at least sounded deferential, “I’d like to try an initial divination before you get to the main attempt, it should help us get the correct components for your spell.” Poe said. Themius gave Poe a critical look. Even Kuchen gave Marie’s brightly dressed boss a once over.

“Well, you always were talented, for whatever good that did you. What’s the spell?” Themius replied.

“It’s a divination and an augury I designed for gestalt investigation.”

Kuchen raised an eyebrow. While Themius hesitated to answer, Kuchen nodded to him.

“Very well, if it helps us put together the spell array, then any little edge might assist us. But, show me your array first.” Themius said.

Poe shrugged. He gestured to Themius to come over to view the array on top of the box. Poe sat on his knees on the bare floor, and started laying out components on the array. The gems and best core went around the array, along with some other things Marie couldn’t identify, with the bowl in the center. Then he produced a bottle of water from his coat’s inner pocket to fill the bowl, which developed a mirror-like reflective surface. He removed his glasses, and tucked them into a pocket. If his mis-matched eyes bothered anyone, no one said anything.

Poe began drawing little glyphs with the red ink. Marie couldn’t quite tell what he was doing, and she couldn’t read any of the strange glyphs. Poe’s motions were deft and practiced. He did not write any words or anything similar to that. Or at least nothing that Marie could read.

“I’ll need the blood here.” Frank pointed.

“Fate? Character? Memory?Cycle? I do not see anything for sight?”

“I’m not trying to find her; I’m trying to find out what she’s like.”

“Very well.” Themius opened the box and, using metal tongs, withdrew a sliver of glass with a bit of blood smeared in one ragged edge.

“Huh.” Poe mumbled when he saw it.

“What?”

“The glass has been a part of a spell.”

“How do you know that?” Kuchen spoke up.

“I’ve used glass as a surface for spell arrays often enough.” Poe gestured for Themius to hold the shard of glass up to Kuchen. “See that purple-blue sheen on one side? That’s from exposure to channeled magic.”

“It’s not anything special.” Themius noted.

“Witnesses said she was taking drops of blood and putting them on glass for her magic.” Kuchen said.

“Really? Well, that’s troubling. A blood sorcerer. I may not get much from this then.” The other diviners drifted over to observe the spell. Poe rolled his neck and glanced up at them all standing around. “You can watch, but do not interfere.” Suddenly mindful, everyone took half a step away. Everyone still stood , except Marie, who had a clear view where she was. Poe sat in the eastern style, on his knees, directly on the other side of the box from her. In the little bowl of water, she could see Poe’s face in the reflection.

Themius placed the chip of bloody glass at the remaining empty spot Poe indicated.

Poe slid his hands into his coat pockets—Marie guessed he was probably touching the conduit—and he began a whispered chant. Marie shivered. She could feel it faintly: the sense of magic being worked in the world.

The water in the bowl shimmered and turned a glossy silver. But, it did not reflect the ceiling. It shown blue, like some unidentifiable sky, then began to swirl with darkness and golden light. Brilliant stars and colorful shapes came and went, hidden in a fog; she had no way to interpret them. She felt strange sensations, like wind and light shining of choppy water.

Perhaps if she had been a Prognos, she could have seen it, but whatever Poe was doing, it seemed to puzzle all the others as well, as brows furrowed and they cast questioning looks at each other. Marie tried to be a good secretary, and not have a face filled with awe.

The bowl moved on to more images that Marie did not entirely recognize. Improbably, without inhaling, she had the memory of strange smells like road dust, woodsmoke, and sweet lavender. As the spell carried on, there were also images that formed that she did recognize: a beautiful guitar that shown across a stage, a butterfly’s iridescent chrysalis, and ravens. They were always at the corner of things, but they formed a flock of the black birds gathering into an unkindness, chasing owls through a blue sky.

The circle began to glow slightly, and Poe breathed slowly and deeply. Marie saw the pattern of koi on his coat shimmer and move to an invisible current. The color in the bowl’s water went black. It was so black, no light escaped it, like a hole in the world. Then, she saw a terrifying golden eye open. It stared out of the darkness that warped around it. Unblinking.

Marie froze, like prey that some great predator had found. ‘Still,’ she thought, ‘stay still and maybe it won’t see you.’ The array took on an increasingly intense light; glowing enough to give Poe’s countenance a sinister air, even in the daylight streaming through the windows.

Marie suddenly had the sense that the eye turned its gaze to her specially; terror choked her voice and she whimpered.

Poe’s eyes opened till the whites went all the way around his irises. Everything stopped. The smell of a freshwater pond filled Marie’s nose: algae and wind over the water.

The scrying bowl returned to an ordinary reflection, and Marie could see Poe’s face in it again.

Poe drew shaking hands from his pockets. No one else seemed to have seen the blackness; or at least they didn’t react the way Marie did.

“Well. That was something.” Poe muttered.

“What?” Kuchen asked. He was gazing on over Poe’s shoulder, the least perturbed of the them all.

“A couple of things. I was looking for her nature to discover an idea of who she is. The basic idea is that this scry can help select appropriate components for later scrying attempts. When she lost this blood, her nature was to hide, to change, and to grow. Not really surprising. She’s young, and she was trying to escape. Her elements are unclear … Dreams, definitely. Also, Radiance? Air?” Poe paused, thinking. Marie saw a tension around his eyes, and sweat was beading on his brow.

“So?” Kuchen interrupted.

“She’s protected. Elusive. She’s not a thief. Or, rather she might steal, but she has bargained. Probably prefers it. Oh yes. Powerful mundane and magic bargains protect her. And, one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s darkness; terrible darkness. This is not shadow, or the darkness of a moonless night. This is a Watching Darkness, a Devouring Darkness. I had to end the spell. It … it noticed me.”

Themius scoffed.

“There’s no such thing as the plane of darkness. And, what in Myrddin’s name is an element of Dreams? You failed. You just can’t admit it. Fate magic is speculative at best.” Themius leaned over and gingerly removed the shard of glass with the Raven Queen's blood on it. “You forget, I am more accomplished in divination than you. I was watching your scry bowl. I saw nothing of the sort. Darkness, misdirection, tricks, and lies were all I saw.”

“Did you now? Well, I feel a headache coming on. I’ll watch your divination, but won’t join it. If she strengthened the protections around her since she lost this blood, she’ll crush your attempt like stepping on a bug. Still, I suggest you put in elements of air, radiance, dreams or sleep, and components that symbolizes the honest bargain, as well as a component that represents shapelessness or change. The better components will have been acquired in honest trade, not theft. Do not scry the darkness; you will fail that way.”

“Outrageous. The Raven Queen is a liar and a thief.” Themius towered over the seated Poe. Marie fought the urge to lean away, but Poe seemed entirely unaffected.

“Divination is the least reliable of all magics. One must open the third eye to the strands of fate, and I never managed it.” Poe shrugged.

Marie scowled. Why was Poe giving up on his results so easily? Even she had seen that terrible black emptiness. The eye, even when only remembered, made her jittery and anxious.

The rest of group of diviners began talking among themselves. Themius directed coppers to obtain components.

Poe, however, began carefully putting his components away. He tipped the water back into a bottle with a silver funnel, gathered the gems and other bits and bobs from the spell array, rubbed the ink off the array with an alcohol soaked rag, and carefully tucked everything back into his box. He dropped the lid in place, and then slid it firmly till it gave a soft wooden tick, afterward sliding the locking piece in place.

Marie noticed that he didn’t return the chunk of cerelium or the beast core. He kept them tucked into his pockets.

“Marie. Do you recall well enough to write down what I said?”

“Yes boss.”

“Write it all out. We’ll have to give it to the Investigators before we leave. Show me your draft, and I’ll copy out the version we give them.” Poe handed her paper and a sharp pencil from his pocket.

As he stood, she sat on the stone floor at the box and used it like a small desk, writing out Poe’s conclusions. When she was done, it was almost a quarter to nine, and the diviners began working their spell. She stood next to Poe in a corner of the room, observing.

“Fools.” He muttered to her. “They’ve put darkness in the array with those angler fish scales, and I’m pretty sure that spider-silk scarf representing air was a piece stolen and taken from the copper’s evidence stores.” Marie wasn’t sure what he was referring to. The spell array looked like it had just little piles of animal parts, dead weeds, and junk spread around it.

Themius ceremonially placed a drop of quicksilver in the center of the array, in the center of the map. He carefully stepped back. The diviners all sipped a potion from the same dark brown bottle, then joined hands.

At first, Marie felt their will splash out in a soft but a ragged wave, before it stabilized and began to throb like a heartbeat. A magical pressure built slowly; it spread no quicker than honey from a jar. The spell array took on a faint glow, and all eyes in the room focused on that little droplet of quicksilver. It wobbled, but it did not move. Marie held her breath, staring at it.

“More” Themius growled. Marie saw the tips of the diviners’ fingers whiten, as the group tightened their grip on each other and the magic. The waves of will became stronger, but it was like an unbalanced wagon, rocking in the ruts on a road. The array blazed with power, and the bead, instead of moving, began to get smaller as it boiled away. Sweat began to bead on their faces.

“Stop!” Poe shouted. “Stop you fools, stop!”

Marie began to feel like she was standing on some small fishing boat, her legs unsteady, waves rocking it uncontrollably. Unbalanced, the wind was whipping water over the gunwales, and she was going to be thrown into the black waters of a storm tossed sea. She tasted copper and brine in her mouth. The glow from the spell shimmered.

“BE STILL” Poe thundered. Marie turned and looked at him.

Poe’s hands had returned to his pockets. The fishes’ mouths on his coat opened and closed like the mouths of the real koi, their gills fluttering. Then, they moved, alive and animated, swimming over the fabric. Their motion became more Real, swimming just below the surface of the coat. They leapt from the coat with splashes, swimming in the air. The koi floated around Poe, seemingly protecting him from the uncontrolled will of the diviners.

From Poe a great smothering blanket of will poured out over the room, calming the waves. Marie blinked. The fish stopped moving, not only still, but returned to their places on the coat as if they never had moved at all.

The ritual wound down, and the magic eased, until the magic calmed like a baby drifting to sleep. The little bead of quicksilver had boiled away entirely.

“Curse you Themius.” Poe whispered, and he staggered against the wall. His hair and eyes were wild, and blood dripped from his nose.

Kuchen carefully scooped up the precious piece of bloody glass from the array, placing it carefully in its evidence box. The officers began shouting for healers, and men and women in clean white robes rushed into the room.

Kuchen looked at Poe, and then turned to one of his subordinates. “If he survives, give him a bonus.” The investigator took a deep breath, then covered his mouth for an uncontrollable coughing fit.