Naereni
I cautiously edged over to the papers on the large table, which were laid out in a jumble. I picked up a random page, scanning over the contents.
Delivery delayed due to unforeseen interference during retrieval, big bold letters claimed. More details were scrawled out in dark ink below. I opted to scan over the parchment, knowing we were short on time already.
Acquisition of acidbeam paper delayed. Expect setbacks in the distillation of new product for you to sell.
On it was a seal depicting an ember laid at the fork of a river, that of Blood Joan.
I grabbed another paper. It had a similar message to the first regarding the distribution of ‘product’ and the Ilason’s duty to sell whatever Blood Joan created. The details were annoyingly hazy, with clever wording to shroud deeper understanding.
“Do you know what they’re talking about?” Toren said, clearly invested. Considering some of these papers mentioned the effects he had caused in the Clarwood Forest, it made sense. “I mean, what does Blood Joan want the Ilasons to distribute? What are they selling?”
I frowned, wondering the same. “I don’t know,” I said. “Clearly something that uses the acidbeam paper, but the uses for that are innumerable. Probably something magical?” I pointed to the paper I was holding in my hand. “This one uses the word ‘distill,’ which means it's got to be a potion of some kind.”
Truth be told, I didn’t know much about Blood Joan’s operations. I only knew about the Clarwood Forest expedition because it was so out of character for the Blood to do it themselves. Fiachra maintained a steady harvest of acidbeam paper because of its value, but the Joans going out of their way for an entire nest instead of an intermediary was unprecedented. Wade usually managed the information side of our operations, so he would know better.
These papers never explicitly stated what kind of product was being distributed by the Ilasons on behalf of the Joans. They were being deliberately vague, as was the rest of the wording on the other sheets of paper here.
Why? I wondered, the gears in my brain spinning. I felt on the cusp of some realization, something that would cause all the pieces to fall into place. I felt a bit of dread in my chest; whatever conclusion I was inching toward was a horrible one.
And then I found the last puzzle piece. Another paper had a name that stood out to me, one that caused my hand to subconsciously grab it. It was a contract for a man named Larun. He was to circulate product throughout East Fiachra at a specific rate, then give the majority of his profits to the Ilasons. The Ilasons would deliver product to him every couple of weeks to sell.
The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place, just like when I managed to bind every pin in a lock. The door to knowledge swung open, and I shrank in on myself. I felt cold; as if a bucket of ice had been dumped on my head.
Distillery. Product. East Fiachra.
‘Probably a potion of some kind,’ I had said.
“Oh, no,” I said shakily, knowing exactly what I was looking at. Toren’s head snapped up to look at me, clearly hearing the realization in my voice. I drew Larun’s contract into my dimension ring.
“What is it?” Toren asked, suddenly worried. It seemed he was catching my mood. “What did you find out, Naereni? Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “We need to leave now,” I said, brushing away his concerns. He looked unsure but complied as I headed out the door. The walkway was empty of people, but with the growing anger in my gut, I doubted I’d be able to maintain stealth anyway.
Escaping the building was easier than getting in in the first place. Thankfully, Toren and I only had to evade one guard patrol as we walked, and they didn’t stop to chat as they mozied on by. I was glad for that.
Once we were out, I dropped by Hofal. He was observing the main entrances to the building from a nearby rooftop, providing cover for us in case someone unexpected came from the outside.
Usually, I didn’t have a sentry to watch my exit. Toren took Hofal’s usual place as my second because Karsien wanted him to get some experience, but that left Hofal out of his normal job. So I dropped him here to watch our backs.
“Hofal,” I said sternly. “Come on. We’ve got to go.” Toren trailed right behind me, looking between Hofal and me.
“Did you get what we came for?” Hofal asked, worried by my strange demeanor. “No hiccups?”
“Their safe is emptied, Hofal. Don’t worry about that,” I bit out. How did I react to what I had just discovered? What did I do?
“So, are you going to tell me what you figured out?” Toren hedged as we moved toward the alley where the sewer access point was.
I ground my teeth. “You read the papers we found, Toren,” I said back. “Blood Joan is making some sort of product with acidbeam paper, then strongarming the Ilasons into selling it around.”
Toren nodded. “Yeah, I got that much. But they weren’t exactly clear on what they’re selling,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’m guessing it's stored in those crates in the warehouse. They had the Joans’ crest on them, after all.”
“The reason they weren’t clear was that if it became widespread what Blood Joan is making, they would have hell to pay from the Supervisory,” I said. “They’re making blithe.”
Hofal stopped in place, shocked. Toren’s face went pale. ”The drug?” he asked again, as if what I said needed clarification. I had been crystal clear.
“Yes,” I replied harshly. “The same drug that’s devasted East Fiachra for the past half a century. Blood Joan is the one making it!”
Toren turned back to the warehouse, a strange look on his face. He didn’t look angry. A strange mask of determination settled over his features. I realized it then: he wanted to march right back to that building and burn it to the ground.
He is not a thief, I remembered again. He is a warrior.
I was half tempted to let him act. Toren’s mana actually flared with palpable anger. Then something changed in his face. He seemed to deflate, and a second later Hofal laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, son. If you wanna burn that place to the ground, you’ll need to plan a bit beforehand. Too many bystanders,” the big shield said. Toren reluctantly let himself be pulled to the sewer drain.
Hofal dropped down into the muck after me. “How do you know it’s blithe they’re making?” Hofal asked as we trudged along, the dour mood weighing on us like a blanket.
“They had a contract for a man called Larun,” I said. “According to the paper, Blood Ilason would give him the ‘product,’ and he’d sell it to ‘customers’ at an agreed price. Every two weeks, he’d give the profit to Blood Ilason.” I shook my head. “I know Larun. Spindly, conniving little man from the outskirts of Sehz-Clar. And he deals blithe to addicts who will never stop taking.”
I didn’t know what to do with what I’d just learned, but I knew who would. Karsien always knew the next step to take. I could trust him with this.
—
The Cistern never felt more welcoming to me as I stepped through the sliding facade brick wall. I barely waited for Hofal’s freezing artifact to clean off my shoes before I bolted through the area, looking for Karsien.
I found him quickly. He was at our map with Wade, peering over some documents. I didn’t know what they were for, but that didn’t matter right now.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Karsien, I need your help,” I said, ignoring the startled look from Wade.
“Naereni, you’re back quicker than expected,” he said, neatly ignoring my request. “Were you successful in your heist? Manage to outwit all your foes?”
“Yes, yes I was,” I said quickly, trying to organize my thoughts. “Look, what we’ve been doing doesn’t matter. I’ve discovered something really, really big. The Joans, they’re working with the Ilasons. And some other people, I think.”
Wade stood, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes. “Naereni, wait. You’re speaking too fast. Slow down, please.”
Hofal and Toren caught up to me as I tried to shuffle my thoughts into reasonable order. “Blood Joan’s been using the Ilasons to distribute blithe through East Fiachra, and I’m guessing several other families, too. And if we can figure out how they’re doing so, we can cut the problems of addiction in this district off at the root!” I said with growing enthusiasm, pointing at the location of Blood Joan’s estate on the map of Fiachra.
When I first found out the Ilason were distributing the blithe to East Fiachra, I was livid. But as I walked through the sewers, I realized something important: if we knew the source of the infection, we could cut off the flow at the source. My goal of finally ridding East Fiachra of the scourge of blithe could be real. And just like Hofal had said, this was the first block in my grand temple.
I was expecting Karsien to share my enthusiasm. He would congratulate me for my find, and tell me that it was a worthy lead to follow. We would make real progress in fixing East Fiachra.
Instead, he just nodded. “That’s good,” he said in his normal tone. “What did you find out specifically? Did you wrangle it from some unsuspecting noble?”
I slowly lowered my arm, sensing something was off. I knew Karsien well enough now. If this was something new to him, there’d be a self-satisfied glimmer in his eye. Or maybe a little more tension than normal in his stance as he processed the information. Did he…
I looked at Wade sharply, narrowing my eyes. He wilted under my gaze, looking at the floor instead of me.
“You already knew,” I said, the implications boiling inside of me. “You both knew about this and didn’t tell me!”
Wade winced at my raised voice. Karsien spoke up instead, the witty sarcasm in his voice replaced by an irritating nonchalance. “I’ve been following leads toward the production of blithe for a while now,” he said. “Wade has helped me map out information and track down leads on this under my orders.”
I stepped back, a feeling of betrayal rising in my stomach. “How long?” I said, looking at Wade. “How long did you know?”
He closed his eyes. “A few months,” he said. “I wanted to tell you, Naereni. I didn’t want to keep this a secret from you, I promise. But Karsien told me to keep it quiet.”
My mouth went dry. A few months. Three months ago, the method of my missions changed per Karsien’s order. Our targets became more specific, and the procedure more careful. Nab the contents of a specific strongbox. Take the papers from this filing cabinet. Before we had been more random and indiscriminate in our thefts.
When I asked Karsien why, he had just told me that he was perfecting the art of the steal. Taking things that wouldn’t be missed, or grabbing items and information that could be sold at a profit.
The deception burned in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Karsien, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. I was supposed to be his second-in-command, to take up his mantle one day! And he didn’t tell me about operations he’d been doing for months? About something so close to my purpose?
“You didn’t need to know yet,” Karsien replied bluntly. “If you knew any earlier, it could have changed our plans or compromised my ability to keep things under control. You’re impatient.”
“Then why Wade?” I asked sharply, gesturing to the young man. He was still staring at the floor. “How did he not ‘compromise your ability to keep things under control?!’”
“His network was invaluable to me,” Karsien countered matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t have been able to do half the things I needed to without him.”
“And my help wasn’t invaluable?” I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.
That seemed to get through Karsien’s skin. He hesitated, thinking over his words, clearly deciding what the best response was. To try and make up some sort of flamboyant way to dismiss my concerns.
In the mess of my thoughts, another thing finally made sense. It only served to stoke the flames of my anger higher. “Of course Blood Joan saw us coming,” I muttered, my eyes widening in realization. A week ago, our heist against the Joans had gone awry because they had been expecting Hofal and me to infiltrate. I had assumed our band had a mole in it, feeding information to the Joans. I had brought up my concerns with Karsien, while also trying to make covert investigations myself. “We made a pattern, striking at points related to their operations. Of course, they expected us to hit them eventually.”
I didn’t wait for Karsien to reply, too angry at the two-fold betrayal. I turned on my heel, stalking toward my rooms. I heard Hofal say something to Karsien before I was out of earshot.
—
I spent half an hour twirling ice daggers through my hands as I lay on my bed, thinking of a dozen different things at once. Normally, working the ice through my hands helped me focus. It centered me, allowing me to think clearly. But my thoughts were a jumble now, and I had a hard time trying to clamp down on any specific idea.
A knock sounded on the door to my room. “Naereni?” Hofal said from outside the door. “May I come in?”
I stopped moving my daggers, holding them still above me. They were nearly entirely clear, but a crystalline blemish here and there created small reflections where I could see my short black hair.
“Come in,” I said at last.
Hofal came in slowly, closing the door behind him. The Cistern only had natural light in the central chamber, so all the illumination in the other rooms came from lighting artifacts. They cast Hofal’s face in a strange glow.
“I came to check on you,” he said slowly, his gruff voice at odds with the words. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Are you going to tell me another story about how old this sewer system is?” I said scathingly. “Maybe tell me it’s not so bad because these rocks have lasted two hundred years and that I can, too, if I just hold on a little longer?”
Hofal paused, and I recognized the emotion that flashed over his face. It was gone in an instant, but what I’d said had hurt him.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Hof. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Hofal was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps I tell too many stories about the stones around us,” he said somberly. “And if it makes you feel any better, I was going to say something similar.”
I might’ve snickered at that if I was in a better mood. I banished the daggers into the atmosphere, feeling the spell unravel once I released control. “Why won’t he trust me?” I asked, a question that had been burning in the back of my mind for a long time now. He called me his protege, the Young Rat. I was supposed to be learning more, taking on more and more responsibility.
“He does trust you, Naereni,” Hofal responded. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t believe you capable of leading me–and now Toren–on our heists.”
I snorted. “That’s not the trust I mean, Hof. He trusts me like a boss does his employee, not a master their student.” I stared at the ceiling. “What will it take, Hof? For him to actually teach me?”
Hofal talked about bricks making grand temples. I didn’t want to be another brick. I wanted to be an architect.
Hofal was quiet for a very long time. “Kars doesn’t like to trust,” he said at last. “I’ve known him a long time. Nearly a decade now, you know. Do you know where I met him?”
“On an ascent,” I replied, having heard this story before. What was the point of this tale now? “You partnered up in the Relictombs. Then worked together on and off for years after.”
Hofal sat down in a chair near my desk. “Ah, the relictombs. The ancient mages had a truly grand sense of design. If you look at their structures, you can usually see an overlying methodology to…” The shield paused, catching himself as he saw the look in my eye. “I have gotten off topic. Yes. You know the story, after all. I got a young Karsien through his first few ascents, helping him win a few accolades. You know some of our stories, but not the most important one.” Hofal paused. “ But I don’t know the most important story, either.”
I peered at the shield from my bed, confused.
“Karsien used to be a lot more trusting, Naereni. It was one of the things that drew people to him. It wasn’t a foolhardy trust, mind you, but he took you at your word unless you proved otherwise. Even despite his unblooded status, he was popular. People felt compelled to be honest around him.” Hofal pawed at his jacket, an unconscious habit he did whenever he looked for a cigar. The man caught himself, though, and forcefully returned his arm to his lap. “He was an awful lot like young Toren in that regard, I suppose. But something changed on his last ascent a little over a year ago. Somebody did something to him that wounded him deeply.”
I blinked. I hadn’t heard this before. “What happened?” I asked, curious.
“I don’t know,” Hofal shrugged. “And he won’t tell me. He refuses to, no matter how much I’ve pried. He’s locked up tighter than the bowels of Taegrin Caelum now. But whatever happened out there is what drew him back to his hometown of Fiachra.”
“I don’t see how this makes things easier for me,” I said with a sigh. Though the story was interesting, it felt irrelevant to me right now.
“It probably doesn’t,” Hofal concurred. “But I wouldn’t have followed Karsien for so long if I didn’t believe the man he used to be wasn’t still in there somewhere. It might be buried deep, but I know you can get to him.” He paused. “You have been already.”
Hofal let me ponder his words after he left, the questions bouncing around in my head. Twirling my daggers did nothing to simmer the chaos in my head.