Frank Poe

Month 12, Day 26, 11:00AM

Frank found himself looking at the token from the Pack for a second time that morning. Inside the little box, the pack had given Poe a jade wolf figurine. The figurine was barely taller than his thumb, and it had a level of detail that made it appear almost alive. The wolf now sat with a serene but alert expression on Poe’s desk. It certainly felt magical. But, there was no detectable thaumaturgy; for all that Poe could detect, even with his modified spell arrays in his glasses, the figure had no magical properties at all.

Frank sighed, then returned the little wolf to its box, and returned it to his drawer. A favor from the Pack. He could use it for anything. The Pack did not have access to any magic that Poe might need, but they could bring resources to bear that would allow him complete his memory enchantment.

Frank’s week had been busy. In his spare time between tutoring Marie, calisthenics, introducing her to the correct way to use a fighting stick, visiting an apocathary, and scrying for Silvering’s movements, Poe designed his memory array. The references he had on hand lacked the detail of books at the University, but the generalities sufficed.

That was his current project. He had all his books spread over his desk, referring to them, and scribbling notes into his own grimoire. It was a fresh book, and one that he’d purchased at the same time as the little communication journals he used with Marie.

Frank had his grimoires hidden among the books on his shelves; since no spines showed, none of the books could be easily identified. His last grimoire before he’d left the University was the one Frank dreaded to open. It had plenty of space left among its blank pages, but Frank could not bear to open it an reread what he had written there.

This fresh grimoire included his scrying spell for Silverling, and all the details necessary to begin his work on a spell to hold off the curse, and the rudimentary design for the enchantment. That way he’d design a spell first, then adapt it. The whole plan might not work, but he had to try. New magic was dangerous; it would be best if he used the most well established ideas and had the clearest intent. Especially since he would be testing it on himself. So he researched the oldest glyphs he could find.

Frank didn’t know when he realized everyone would eventually forget him, even for the small contribution to magic he had made. At Haven it nearly broke him, especially after the first visit with his family. His family ‘s reaction had been like lead in his heart, and, in particular, his Aunt was unable to bear his presence because her sudden lapses in memory disturbed her too much. Even after he left he found it too painful to try to contact his old friends and acquaintances.

The curse targeted memory, of that Frank was certain, but it also had an element of fate magic, which Frank had less certain ideas.

The Pearl should work. Pearls were the memory of spite, layers and layers of it, built over the lifetime of the mollusk. Pearls show the past but also an expectation of growth; a fate to grow into something bigger with each layer. Frank knew the Pearl should overcome both the twisting fate and memory; dragging along both memory and anchoring Frank in reality. People would recall Frank Poe, so then he could be of consequence to the world.

He worked for several hours on his spell array, considering all the glyphs that would match his intent perfectly, then he took Marie out for a lunch. The cart vendor had sandwiches made of a thick dark bread, breaded and fried fish and a whipped egg and fish sauce topping, wrapped in a thick brown paper. They carried the food back to the office and sat at Frank’s small luncheon table in his rooms.

“What was the token from the Stags?” Marie asked Poe. He hadn’t shown it to her.

“A jade figurine.”

“Is it valuable?”

“It is a refined piece of miniature, but that isn’t what makes it valuable. The Pack owes me an open-ended favor. There are some things no amount of money will buy, and that is one of them.”

Marie nodded.

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“So,” Frank continued, “this evening I am going out, please watch the office. I’ll need to take the fighting cane, so stay inside the office.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting.” Frank been paying careful attention to the next meeting time. With the secret meeting planned for tonight, it was sooner than he expected, and he did not have to attend, because the transfer was scheduled for the meeting after. Still, he wanted to be sure to watch out for that woman who might attempt to steal the prize from out of his grasp, and he should keep an eye on Canelo. He was still her sponsor, and her behavior would reflect on him, at least tangentially.

“When did you work that out? Is it with Lord Stag or something to do with Silverling? I keep you calendar, and we don’t have any clients.”

“It was arranged ahead of time, and its nothing to do with the Stags. It’s perfectly safe.”

“And, you are taking the fighting cane.” Marie’s voice remained neutral., but Frank could detect a hint of sarcasm there.

“Well, it’s a comfort in uncertain times.”

“So, it’s not safe.”

“No more dangerous than usual.”

“Mm.” Marie replied.

“It’s not like I’m going to meet the Raven Queen or anything! It’s just the normal meeting with the … thaumaturges on the edge of things.” Frank felt exasperated, explaining himself to a teenager. He gave a small shake of his head.

“So, people who engage in dangerous, illegal magic? Where you have to hide your face and take on a fake name?” Marie smirked at Frank. “And, how are you going to leave without Jemnie and Cory following you?”

“I have my ways.” Frank replied. “Let’s just get to you studies.”

Frank quizzed Marie for an hour, then he returned to his desk and continued to refine his spell array, while Marie returned to reading. They really did need more clients.

Frank closed the office, sent Marie to her one room apartment, and returned to his rooms to change, leaving the koi coat behind in his office.

Frank scryed Sebastien, and he did seem to be visiting the markets, but Frank decided against following Silvering. Frank needed to attend the meeting, and Silverling was at Dryden Manor most of the day.

As it grew dark, Poe changed into dark clothing and his mask, then prepared some tricks for leaving the Agency undetected. Unfortunately, the watchers had taken to checking for Frank leaving by the back windows. There was a third way out of the building, however.

After dressing in uncharacteristically dark clothing and coat, and putting on his mask, Frank climbed to the roof and sulked over to the next building on the street. Unmelted snow crunched on the slippery roof. Frank would have to use care to avoid being spotted, and to keep himself from falling off the roof. There was a enough moonlight to see by, so at least he did not have to shine a light of some kind.

He drew a ring from his pocket and used it to cast his mother’s esoteric chiming detection spell. It did chime faintly, in part because of his nearness to the magic at the agency, but—more importantly—the spell muffled all the sound.

The roofs of the neighboring buildings were only a large stride away. So, he silently stepped over to the roof of a second house, and then a third, eventually making his way over the tall narrow buildings till he reached the end of the block.

He peered over the edge and looked for the Morrow and Stag spies. The Stags seemed to still only have the one; the Morrow boy was stationed near her, but the other Morrow spy, ironically the rude fellow who tried to accost him in Madame’s office, was watching the back. They all were looking toward the Agency, and away from Frank.

Frank drank down a potion of feather fall, then stepped off the roof. His dark coat fluttered. He reckoned he looked a little like a big black bird, gliding down into the dark street. He landed next to a pedestrian, a local resident that Frank overlooked when he’d scanned the street for the gangs’ spies. The man squeaked at Franks sudden appearance.

Frank drew himself up, then drew a blank on what to say. He couldn’t think of an excuse for leaping from the top of the building that would keep the started man from calling out and alerting the spies.

“Are you … are you the Raven Queen’s servant?” The startled man stuttered.

“Quiet.” Frank said reflexively—although the esoteric spell muffled the sound and made his voice eerie and whisper quiet. Frank realized what he looked like: a creepy mask, black clothing, and black cane. He smiled behind the mask … if he just roughed up his voice … and loomed a bit … “Do you dare impede me while I am on the Queen’s business?” Frank rasped.

The man stumbled back, pale. “No. No.” With a panicked expression, the pedestrian fell onto the training any common man would have to deal with any unexpected nobility: he bowed and tried to look unthreatening. “Beg your pardon lord.”

Frank made no further comment and strode past, black coat fluttering behind him.

Down the street, he began chuckling to himself. ‘The Raven Queen’s servant. How absurd.’ Frank thought. ‘Maybe I’ll start hearing rumors of the Raven Queen’s servant flying through the night or appearing from shadows on errands.’