Marie

Month 12, Day 10, 12:00 PM

Poe lead them to the center of the city, to Waterside Market. Even in the afternoon, the market filled with people of all different kinds and types. Obvious sorcerers with thick books filled with metal plates mingled with witches, wealthy patrons, and ordinary folks looking for the fine finished goods that made the city famous in the known world.

Despite everything, Marie felt good. She’d rested, and while the phantom pain of a knife in her chest still bothered her, she felt just as healthy as she’d been before the

Marie kept an eye out for pickpockets and thieves. Poe wandered down the street of shops as if he hoped a pickpocket would find him. He paused and window shopped constantly, irritating Marie because these would be the ideal moment for a thief to “bump” into him and put a hand in his pocket. Poe, however, seemed entirely oblivious to this danger. At least, Marie knew he carried at least a conduit in a pocket, and that would be a prize.

Marie had tucked her own conduit into one of the pockets in her new dress. She didn’t need it, and she only knew a couple of spells, and Poe already told her that she should not cast even her esoteric spell until he approved.

As they passed a booth with a street performer doing a minor illusion, Poe stopped again, perhaps to critique the performers work.

“Notice,” Poe said, “how the spell array covers the back of the booth, and he is standing outside it?”

Marie nodded, glanced at the array, but kept her attention on a young boy that was brushing his way through the crowd in their direction. He brushed past several others, like he was trying to get a closer look. But, Marie noticed he paid no attention to the show. Marie thought he seemed familiar.

“A spell array may appear to be a flat plane, but often it’s a sphere or dome. That’s why …”

Marie gasped as the boy tried to reach in Poe’s coat. But, before the boy’s hand even came close, and seemingly without looking, Poe grabbed the boy’s arm as he reached for Poe’s pocket. Poe turned his full attention on the boy.

Marie recognized him now.

“Jemnie?” Marie blurted. The boy pulled at Poe’s grip, trying to break it by pulling his arm away, but Poe’s hand held tight.

“Marie? Help! I didn’t do nothin’”

Poe turned toward Marie and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, Master Poe, this is Jemnie.”

Poe turned his gaze back on the boy. Through his tinted spectacles, Marie could see Poe’s eyes had narrowed.

“Jemnie. Pleasure to meet you, shall we step away from the crowd and talk?”

Without letting go, or waiting for a response, Poe practically dragged the boy away from the group and toward an empty alley.

“Marie, how would you happen to know him?”

Jemnie was an orphan only a year or two younger, and he’d been working his way up through the Morrows organization. Sometimes his jobs were legitimate; for example, he worked in the laundry at the Hands, Hearts, and Palms from time to time.

That was not, however, Marie’s introduction to him. The Morrows had trained him up as a pickpocket for the occasional run at the Waterside Market. Almost all the Morrow’s kids grew up practicing at least some pickpocket work; it was easy to learn, and the Coppers didn’t cut off kid’s hands as often when they were caught.

“Marie?” Poe asked. She had taken a bit too long to answer. Marie decided truth was better than lying.

“He’s a Morrow pickpocket; I was his bump for awhile.”

“Bump?” Poe’s expression darkened.

“Distraction for marks. I’d worked with Jemnie a little until Madame started teaching me bookkeeping.”

Poe actually seemed relieved by Marie’s response.

“I see. Where’s your partner?” Poe asked Jemnie. Jemnie shook his head, appearing somewhat panicked. Marie spoke up before he answered.

“He probably doesn’t have one today; he’s using the show as his distraction.”

“I see.” Frank glanced up at the attentive crowd. “The performer has to keep the spell up, but he can still see the crowd. He would notice Jemnie here.” Poe looked down on the boy, who was still struggling with Poe’s grip. “So, you share your take with the performer then?”

Jemnie, wide eyed, nodded.

“I’m not hopeful you’ll learn this lesson. But I suggest that you are done for the day, right?”

“Yes sir.” Jemnie stopped fighting. Poe did not apparently want retribution. Marie breathed out a long slow breath.

“Try not to forget, ok?”

“Yes sir.”

Poe let the pickpocket go and the boy dashed away into the crowd. Marie thought Poe probably did that for her. When the Coppers caught a child pickpocket, their career ended pretty quickly, because the Waterside had dedicated Copper patrols, and the Coppers had plenty of former pickpockets watched. Getting caught a second time ended with a trip to the mines.

“He’s going to forget.” Poe observed as he watched Jemnie go.

“Thanks. I know you just let him go for my benefit.”

“You need not worry. I suppose I’ve been making myself look like a mark, eh?”

“I wouldn’t say that ...”

“But, I was.” Poe shook his head. “All that stopping. No wonder you’ve been antsy.”

Marie didn’t realize she’d been telegraphing her concern so strongly. Poe sighed.

“It may not be entirely apparent, but I am observing my surroundings, Marie.”

“It’s just that you are not the most … street savvy. For instance, he took your components in the right outer pocket.”

Poe looked bemused. “He tried to take the components from the outer pocket, but he failed.” Poe withdrew a handful of items: a marble, a folded piece of paper, a tiny piece of red coral, a pair of maple seeds, and a knotted chord.

“But, I saw him …”

“Oh yes, he put his hand in the pocket, but he didn’t access the hidden space inside. He would have to be a much better pickpocket than that and slip past the enchantment.”

“Did he get anything?”

“I don’t keep anything in the main pocket. Too easy to be pickpocketed!” Poe laughed, then he turned serious, and quiet, leaning down to Marie’s ear, he asked: “Would people recognize you from your less-than-legal work in the Waterside Market?”

“Oh no. I dressed less conspicuously, and we never got caught.” Marie whispered back.

Poe nodded, and they returned to the crowd, browsing the shops and stalls.

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Marie worried that Jemnie would return and attempt Poe’s pockets a second time; because of Poe’s curse, he’d probably already began to wonder why he’d even stopped.

Mindful of Poe’s lesson regarding Canello, Marie began to attempt to determine if Jemnie worked his way back behind them. But, in keeping an eye out for the boy, she noticed another party following behind them.

This follower she did not recognize. The Morrows had teams of thieves and pickpockets, but so did other criminal organizations. Who knew what other thieves Poe’s obvious wealth would attract. Marie began to worry that another group was following them.

Specifically, Marie spotted a older teen-aged girl dressed in a plain brownish-red dress, with a bag slung over her shoulder. Marie began looking for the girl’s reflection in windows, and glanced out of the corner of her eye to watch for the girl.

When Poe stopped, the following teen also would also seemingly stop and look at a street vendor, or in a shop’s window. When Poe moved, the teen took a moment to resume walking, but when she did, she would speed up to match their pace. Yet, she still stayed well behind Poe and Marie.

‘I’m imagining things.’ Marie thought. ‘No one has any reason to follow us. Poe is well dressed, but he’s not flashing money or anything.’

After a while, Poe stopped looking in the windows, and they carried on walking through the Waterside market. Marie relaxed a bit. Without Poe’s constant stopping, she felt that they dodged any further pickpocketing from the one following them. Even though Poe walked a bit too fast for Marie, she didn’t want him to slow down now that they had taken some initiative.

They arrived at Schumacher’s windowed shop and stepped inside. Even the showroom smelled of clean leather and hide glue, but Marie hadn’t seen anything like it.

Unlike the little old cobbler she’d gone to for her pair of boots that had been repaired and resized for her, this shop sold only new boots and shoes. Well dressed salesmen met customers in the open and well-lit showroom. Comfortable looking couches in the middle of the room, had customers sitting while having their feet measured and apprentices looked on and took notes. Behind the long counter that stood opposite the shop entry, the actual boot-makers cut leather, pressed it to forms, sewed soles with treadle powered machines, and strung laces.

Displayed along the walls were examples of the types of shoes and boots available. There wasn’t a single price tag in sight.

But, Marie knew instantly which boots she wanted. The tall back boots called to her the instant she noticed them, and she immediately walked straight to them and began to examine their construction.

Sitting in the window display, The Boots—capital letters required—were made with alchemical rubber soles as thick as the second joint of Marie’s biggest finger, sewn to a stiff black leather, that went up over the knee. Softer pleated leather panels allowed the boot to fit around the calf to put them on. But, the boot-maker use a clever arrangement of two sets of laces: one a set of laces across the front with metal gooks and grommets tightened to have the boots snug when taking them on and off, and a second set of leather laces to adjust the fit on the outside and to form the shape precisely. Even if the wearer gained weight or the leather stretched, The Boots could adjust and would always fit the calves. The toe was square and stitched from over-lapping leather so that it had a cap of extra thickness and the toe wouldn’t wear out.

Marie’s old leather soled boots were tough, but the soles had needed replacing regularly, and the leather would soak with water and fail. Her old boots once had the toes patched, even before she’d owned them.

This bootmaker designed The Boots for either canal workers or riders, because they had a molded, but thick, low heel. The Boots hardened rubber soles had studded treads and would be entirely waterproof. All the features suggested that she could wade through calf high water, and her feet would stay dry.

These boots would be practically invincible, waterproof, and looked like armor for her claves and knees.

“So. Those boots?” Poe said. Marie turned to Poe, who was smiling and his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

“Yes. Please.” Marie tried to remain outwardly calm. Inside she was jumping up and down squealing.

Poe called a salesman over. They had to wait, and Marie jittered with excitement. When the attendant finally came over her began explaining all the features of The Boots. For instance, an inner sole made of cork would be fitted to her foot, and would remain comfortable even after hours of standing, and the entire boot was treated with alchemical waterproofing that needed only be refreshed annually.

Marie just wanted him to shut up and get to measuring. Poe politely allowed the man to give his pitch on all The Boots fine qualities, and finally, he directed the apprentice to take measurements.

“Do you know, sir, we recently had a customer request an expanding boot? Our master cordwainer has already designed a version that will let her wear these boots even as the young lady’s feet grow. Or, we can give you a reference to a cobbler that can refit these for you, for an extra fee, of course.” The attendant suggested.

Poe glanced at Marie.

“Standard boots.” Marie told Poe. Marie wasn’t at all sure she was going to get much bigger, and, anyway, that seemed like a long time off. The attendant didn’t seem at all bothered.

As the attendant took measurements while Marie sat facing the window, Marie looked to the street outside. The market bustled, except for the individual sulking at the corner of the building across the street. The girl with the bag.

Marie gestured to Poe.

“Poe. We’re being followed.” Marie whispered to him.

Poe didn’t look surprised.

“I agree. She’s been hanging around waiting for the entire time we’ve been in here, but she moved regularly when we were outside.” Poe murmured. “Do you recognized her? Is she a Morrow?”

“Not one that I know. It’s a big organization.”

“She’s not wearing red. Nor any green that I can see.”

“Do you … want to confront her?” Marie asked. A fight could get them arrested. And, the woman might be a copper or Red Guard.

“No. We’ll let this play out a bit. Keep your eye out for more of them though. I’m not in good shape to defend with magic, and you were almost dead a few days ago, so running might be out.”

“So, you were stopping to watch for her?”

“No … I was looking at the origami in the windows.”

“I didn’t know you liked folding paper.”

“I don’t.”

Marie wasn’t sure what to make of Poe’s reply. If he didn’t like origami, why look at it? After a few minutes of contemplation, while the clerk finally taking the measurements, Marie and Poe were finally free to leave.

As they stepped out of the shop, Poe walked in the opposite direction than Marie expected. They walked toward the University. Along the way, they stopped at a street vendor and bought a late lunch. Their tail tried to remain inconspicuous, but as the crowds thinned, trailing after them became even more conspicuous. As they walked past shops meant for the wealthy and manors, Poe eventually guided them to the University lifts, but he took them to post office there.

“What are we doing here?”

“Writing a note to Canelo; the next meeting is in just a few days.”

“How do you know? Did you talk to someone last night?”

“No.”

Poe wrote his message, and left it with at the office. They stepped back on the street, and the woman followed them back toward the agency. She was hanging pretty far back, and Marie felt ok to start a conversation as they walked.

Marie had not yet asked Poe about the “black market” meeting. She took a certain amount of criminal activity in stride, but what sort of magic was illegal, besides blood magic? Was Poe actually a blood sorcerer? She tried to ask without seeming worried.

“Why do Sorcerers even have a secret meeting? The Night Market has everything, doesn’t it?”

“Are you familiar with the idea that there are two sorts of laws?”

“Ah, no? Isn’t there just one kind of law?”

Poe shrugged.

“The theory goes like this: the first kind of laws ban immoral, evil, or contemptible behavior. Murder, Rape, or Theft. Your pickpocketing friend, for example. His behavior is immoral and undermines fundamental societal norms. So, those are not not just illegal, they are also wrong.”

Marie wasn’t so sure about that, the pickpockets always targeted people who could afford to have slightly light pockets. But then … some Morrows didn’t care. If someone didn't wear red, their stuff was fair game. Marie conceded that stealing was generally wrong. So, she nodded.

“There’s a second kind of law though; laws that aren’t universal. It’s against the law because the Crown said so. Laws that just keep people from sharing information, or charge fees to exchange otherwise legal goods. Laws that ban things because its banned. You understand?”

“Blood magic?”

“Blood magic can be both. Some blood magic is good, when applied in the right situation. But, when abused, well, people that murder for a longer life or a more powerful magic, that type of magic is evil. … I’m getting off topic. Which kind of law do you think a group of sorcerers might be willing to avoid?”

“The second kind.”

“Exactly. Sorcery is regulated heavily, and some of those regulations chafe the sort of sorcerer that works on the fringes of the law.”

“Like you?”

“Obviously not me,” Poe smirked, “I am a mere private investigator.”

Marie rolled her eyes. He was teaching her magic, and that was illegal. But, Marie thought she understood. It was like keeping two sets of books; one that kept track of the real income, and one to show the Morrows bosses.

“So, the meetings aren’t like secret blood sorcerers?”

“It is my hope that you will never have a reason to attend. But, these meetings are not much more than a gossip session with some tax dodging. Hedge witches and small time sorcerers know better than mess with blood magic in Lenore.”

Marie relaxed. That did not sound so bad.

Poe suddenly gripped Marie’s arm and lead her quickly around a corner and stepped into a lone carriage that seemed to have dropped a wealthy passenger at a manor house. He directed the driver to the August Agency’s address.

As the carriage pulled away from the curb, the young woman rounded the corner.

Marie decided that waving as they rode away would be a little bit much.