A bit after dawn sunlight streams through the canvas. Reaching out a hand and finding nothing. A shuffling sound nearby signals Daniel is in the process of getting ready. Doing a quick stretch, hands over head, and getting out of the roll. Popping out of the tent for a quick second and reentering. Pulling on my last clean set of underwear, my outer clothes and starting to buckle on my armor.
“When we get to the city,” Daniel says, “I want you to buy a tent.”
“Am I tempting you too much?”
“Yes.”
“...yes, sir.”
“You and Magpie are going to be sharing it on the way back.”
“That's what I figured.”
His hand reaching out to touch my face, steady and reassuring, soothing the sting of rejection and stirring up the feelings of closeness from last night. Pulling away and leaving the tent. Deep, calming breaths. Getting lost studying the stitch pattern on my pack. Unclenching my hands and resuming the process of buckling on the last pieces of armor.
About to head out, but first checking the time. Ten till. Should be plenty to test Rune of Focus. It says it enhances a worn item, which doesn't sound very restrictive. Maybe try it on this pouch. Drawing the rune and trying to infuse it with mana. Not taking. Dang. Okay, so the pouch doesn't count, and my shirt counts as armor - not a worn item. So it definitely means something like this necklace, but that's already enchanted and probably can't take another. Not enough surface area to draw on, anyway. Which means there are only six potential slots. Head: a necklace or hairpin or hat. Hands: rings or gloves or a bracelet. Belt. And then feet: shoes, or an ankle bracelet, or a toe ring. Trying my left boot. Drawing the rune, infusing. There, the spell taking. The next time Daniel gets hit by Rune Trap there's a better chance he won't get away.
Drawing all the others, knife, armor and then Runic Shield on my skin. Carve. Activating all four. Puncturing, letting the mana drain out and then touching the ground to make sure. Back to regular hardness. Removing all the evidence of the runes. Gloves back on, bandanna and cloak. Heading next door to Anderson's tent and poking my head in.
Magpie stretched out on stomach, head in Anderson's lap and one of his hands lightly playing with her hair. Clearing my throat. Anderson glancing up, clearly annoyed, clearly telling me to make myself scarce. Magpie giving a couple slow, shallow bobs before disengaging. Glancing over her shoulder.
“Ten minutes.” A bit of saliva trickling down her chin. Crawling on all fours and climbing onto him.
Exiting the flap. Wandering a bit away and taking a seat. Stuck listening to them again. She definitely managed to get back at me for those morning calisthenics the other day. Great job, Magpie, but fuck you. Gonna get you back twice. Twenty five minutes later Magpie coming out, fully clothed and armored. Had been picking through the crumbs of what was left of my provisions. Lemonade emptied yesterday, apples gone the day before. Just hardtack and some jerky.
“Finally. Let's go to breakfast.”
“I was wondering,” she says, glancing somewhat shyly off to the side, “if I could have a leaf.”
Pulling out the other half of mine, eaten twenty three minutes before.
“Thank you.”
Heading to breakfast.
***
Late afternoon, almost at the city. The large city.
We'd seen it a ways away. Much further away than it had appeared. Lumeer had been a large frontier town seven years ago, and as we'd gotten established the character of the city changed, starting from the center and rippling outwart. At present, it's a medium sized city but still comfortably on the frontier. Tasnanca, however, is considerably larger, a jewel shining against the dark, looming mountain range behind it.
Didn't consider the mechanics of it before coming out. Figured it would be, well, less big than this. And there's no address on the letter, just the name, Velmar Inkathius. That better not be a common name. Ask around, see if people know. Hopefully it'll be easy. And, if they're difficult, see how much they're going to want in bribes. Hopefully cheap. And, if that's not enough, take them down for a little discussion in the sewers.
A sudden, horrible thought striking. They better not speak a different language.
“So the first thing you need to understand about these people,” says Anderson, to our group in the rear as we're approaching the city entrance, “they speak their own language.”
Shit. Figures.
“But a good number of them also speak our language, so we shouldn't have much trouble communicating.”
“Yeah, but that means they can talk shit to our faces.”
“Probably, but I wouldn't worry too much about that. Anyway, the second thing you need to understand, we're an oddity around here. Back in Lumeer it's maybe thirty-seventy, us and them. Here, it's all them. So be polite, be respectful, and,” making the extra effort to look at me, “if they do talk shit, let it go.”
“Yes, sir.” Like hell.
“We're going to be staying at a friendly establishment on this side of the river. The merchants are responsible for securing their own lodgings so we don't need to hold their hands anymore until we hit the road again. Once we get in, consider yourselves on leave. But Grace, Lucy-”
“We know,” says Magpie.
“Fifteen feet.” Anderson says, just to say it.
“We know.”
“Not saying you don't. Only a reminder.”
“We know.” From both of us, at once.
Following the merchant caravan inside the city onto a wide boulevard. The guards carefully studying me while entering, but not moreso than any of the others. Meeting up with Daniel's group on the inside, while the wagons continue toward their various destinations. Our group getting glances from the townsfolk, in their brightly colored, loose clothing as we heading west through the city in the direction of the river. Curiosity, whispers, some pointing from them, but no real signs of mistrust. The jabbering of their language surrounding us from all sides.
Heading north and entering a rougher and seedier area. Cafes here and there on the streets, with the familiar sweet smell in the air. Scantily clad women outside some of the establishments, smoking pipes, either tobacco or the other. Toughs crawling the street, but making way for our heavily armed group. The buildings with one of two decorations: a prominent stylized red dragonshead or a smaller, more discrete orange caret, with point up.
Walking by a side street and noticing another symbol on a building. Exactly the same as one of the symbols that gradually had been disappearing from Lumeer for the past nine months, essentially all gone now. Safe house. Keeping an eye out for more and finding them. Dead end. Danger. And there, entrance. Tasnanca, by all appearances, still has an active Thieves Guild. Magpie also noticing them and, likely, Blindside over on the other side of the group as well.
Arriving at our destination, a five story building with wide red banners and a green symbol framing the entrance, the same colors as House Ishtar. Big double doors. Filing into the entryway, and almost being bowled over by the smell of incense and the more sweet smell. Hushed lighting, and there, dominating the room, a statue of their thing. Beautiful, long hair. Robes. A big, wide, tight lipped smile. Waiting for a moment in the entry, and then a woman wearing deep red robes with green trim coming from another room.
“Welcome, brothers and sisters,” she says, “you must be tired after your trip.” Her statement taking them all in. Then looking at me. And back to Daniel.
“Yes, we are,” he says. “We thank you for your generous hospitality.”
Each of the members of the group going up to the statue and leaving small offerings. Coins, flowers, other tidbits. Are they holding back because of me? There's no reason to pretend. Lies like that are poison to the soul. Each member finishing their rounds, so taking the initiative, walking up to the statue and pulling out my knife. Removing my right glove and cutting my palm. Feeding it blood. Not its favorite bodily fluid, but only by a matter of degrees. The other offerings had elicited little, but unmistakable pleasure radiating from the statue at mine. Rune of Mending to seal the wound. An offering freely given and easily healed. No permanent damage done, no sacrificial flesh irrevocably maimed, no feelings stolen, no futures erased. Letting the ravenous thing clean off the remainder. The tight lipped smile of the statue beginning to part, beginning to reveal pointy, tearing teeth.
“It's surprising to see such a generous offering from one of the uninitiated,” says the woman. “Your devotion to her is noted.”
“Devotion?” Laughable. “I'd never worship this thing.” This is pure quid pro quo. Devotion toward a blood drinking, masquerading demon is a mockery. Things of this sort need to be kept at arms length and tightly chained. Better yet, forgotten entirely, entombed and rotting beneath the sand. “But I don't see any reason we can't get along.”
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Amusement radiating from the statue at that, its customarily cruel laughter following each and every one of my deaths now a set of melodious chimes.
“I see,” the woman says, her eyes on the statue. “In that case, welcome. Follow me and I'll bring you to your rooms.”
Falling in with the group and walking through a bar area, with patrons being waited on by near unclad women. Heading upstairs into the brothel proper. Each of the men being given their own room, leaving Serena, Daniel, Magpie and myself.
“When Roy said you knew what you were doing he really meant it, didn't he?” says Serena, “I hope you enjoyed the trip, but now that we're finally here we can hit the town and really have a good time. First though, you two come with me, and bring your stuff with you to get cleaned. They've got few bathhouses like the one back home.”
Magpie and myself in one room, Serena and Daniel sharing the room across the hall. Removing everything but the dirty clothes from the pack, getting a handful of coins and joining Serena back in the hall. And onto the streets.
“You're sharing a room with Daniel?” Doing my best to keep the heat out of my voice.
“Yeah. He's been stressed because of you. I'm looking forward to helping him unwind.”
Trying to stay calm, but unable to keep the underlying emotion from slipping out. “It's been stressing me out, too.”
Serena catching a whiff and starting to warily take me in. Taking special note of all the dried blood splattered on my clothing. Probably some decent splotches on my bandanna from the way she's looking at it. Had thrown myself in today with gusto after abandoning my no attack policy. Her eyes lingering on my hand, now resting on the hilt of my knife.
“I'm not supposed to tell you this,” she says, speaking slowly and choosing her words carefully, “because it's against the rules, you understand, but you're, what'd that woman call you, uninitiated. You're off limits. Ordinarily you'd be helping out at the nightclub, serving drinks or checking coats. Something easy, at any rate. A trip like this isn't a normal environment for new recruits, so you're undoubtedly feeling some added pressure because of it. The way it used to work, we'd bring people in, innocent people – yeah, try not to laugh, innocent people – get 'em all riled up and then they'd give in to their desires. That's what gets Liz's statue off. But that's all been an open secret for years, so usually the only people who show up know exactly what they're getting themselves into - but we're still supposed to keep our hands off until they become full members. Because of Liz's statue and also because it helps to weed out shitheads. Every now and then we get some fresh face who doesn't know up from down, and we've gotta go through the motions, but they usually wise up pretty quick. Usually a fifty-fifty shot they stay afterwards. I'm glad we didn't have to do that with you this time, that whole routine makes me want to puke. So, with you knowing that, my advice is that you tough out your provisional membership. It's worth it. There are a lot of really good people in the House, and it's not that Daniel doesn't like you, he's just a stickler. That's how it is, and that's how he is. You seem like a breath of fresh air and I don't want you to wash out because you feel like you're being unfairly snubbed. I'm genuinely glad you came along with us on this trip.”
Considering her earnest, open expression.
“And don't tell anyone I told you this,” she says, very seriously. Looking pointedly at me, then Magpie. “Because it's against the rules.”
“You hear something?” Magpie says, as she glances at me.
“I didn't hear nothing. But, yeah, I'll try. I appreciate you letting me know.”
“Good,” Serna says. “Here it is.”
Entering the building, a couple people at a desk, the same as back home, but much more humid in here. Cubbies instead of lockers. Depositing all the dirty clothes and submitting my pack to be washed. Pull chain producing cold water. Spending some time cleaning off all the dirt from my poor, heat abused hair. Then out into the bathhouse proper, about half full, but not open air. Shame.
“I think I'm just going to sit here the rest of the night.”
Serena and Magpie nodding wordlessly. The three of us enjoying our first bath after days on the road. The hot water relaxing muscles we didn't even know had been tense. Breaking our silence after a few minutes.
“What's the House even like? The first day I was nervous, but you guys seem different than what I was expecting.”
“Well, don't let this outing mislead you,” says Serena, stretching a bit, “but there are actually more women in the House than men. And most of them are really great, but as far as stuff like this goes their priorities are all out of whack. More for me, I guess. We only got Grace here and she's been stuck with you.”
“Hey Magpie, is that right?” Magpie opening one eye.
“Mag-” Serena looking back and forth, then getting excited. “Wait, was that actually your guild codename? I like it.”
Magpie blowing bubbles in the water before responding. “Yeah, that's it.” Opening both eyes and giving Serena her full attention.
“How'd you get that out of her?” Serena asks.
“I asked her.”
“I guess that would be one way.”
“Hey, Lucy, that reminds me,” says Magpie. “What's up with your name?”
“Her name?” Serena says, looking back and forth again. "Wait, Hugh mentioned something about that. Is it actually..."
“Macarthy.”
“Yeah, that.” The girl going grim, and shaking her head. “I'm sorry, but that name's cursed. Especially now. You really managed to come in at the wrong time with a name like that.”
Giving her a noncommittal shrug and trying to keep the focus of my glare underwater.
Hey, Magpie,” Serena getting particular enjoyment from calling her that, “you knew him, what was Macarthy like before he went crazy?”
“Mac was...” Magpie hesitates. “I didn't really know Mac that well. I saw him around, here and there, but nothing more than some short conversations. He was above me. Out of my league. He and my mentor were some of the guild's main enforcers, and according to him Mac spent a lot of time out in the field. The few times Mac was around he seemed to get pretty well with everyone in the guild.”
“Really?” Serena obviously disappointed. “I'd figure with a codename like - what was it? - something intimidating, letting you know death was coming. I'd figure with a name like that you'd have horror stories.”
“You're talking about the name he used as an enforcer? Everyone in the guild just called him Mac. But no, I don't have any bad stories about him. He actually saved me, one time, out in the field. I got separated and lost underground during guild training and ended up in a bad spot. He appeared out of nowhere, patched me up, and then escorted me back. He said exactly three words to me, 'Be more careful,' then he vanished.”
Sitting in silence, as Serena's earlier accusation festers.
“He didn't go crazy. I was at the gala and I got killed by the thing that attacked it. It looked like Macarthy, but it wasn't him. It was a thing. A monster.”
“Are you sure about that?” Serena's incredulous smirk sending my blood a few more ticks northward.
“I know what I saw.”
“Well, if that's the case, where's Macarthy now?”
The silence stretching on.
“Who knows? Probably skipped town. Anyway, I'm done. Turning into a prune.”
***
Back at the place we were staying. Serena out on the town with Daniel, and a couple of others, as the rest take advantage of our lodging's accommodations. Had firmly declined her request to go out, claiming tiredness. Sitting in the smoke filled barroom with Magpie, relaxing in our freshly laundered clothing and starting our third pints. The first two downed back to back.
“Did you know about that shit Serena said?”
“About them keeping their hands off? Yeah, but I thought it was more a suggestion than anything serious. It seems obvious in retrospect, they were significantly more friendly after the trial period.” Magpie taking a drink. “Bee never stood a chance.”
Taking a drink of my own and staring off into space.
“You know what you need?” Magpie says, matter-of-factly. “You need to get laid. You're super frustrated. Hugh's been great the past couple days, but you've been dealing with Daniel's cold shoulder.”
Opening my mouth to counter her claim, but unable articulate, let alone even form, a rebuttal. Instead taking a deep gulp from my pint.
“How about those guys over there? They've been glancing over. Let's go talk to them. You pick the one you want and I'll take the other.” Not even entertaining a glance. Instead reaching for my pint again. The girl doing the same. “You're really hung up on Daniel, aren't you?”
“I don't think I'm drunk enough for this conversation.” Pounding mine down.
Rolling her eyes, but then also doing the same. Empty pints on the bar. Tapping my fingers. All the alcohol drank in quick succession beginning to catch up, starting to feel uncoordinated.
“Wait.” The girl getting an impish look. “Wait, wait, wait. No, don't tell me, I think I got it. You're a virgin, aren't you?” My slow, exhausted glance causing her to collapse into giggles. “I know, that's totally ridiculous, there's no way. But, still, you're still crushing on him like one.”
Two more pints appearing. Down a sip.
“Hey Magpie, you want to hear something crazy?”
“Yesh, I do,” she slurs.
“I'm talking totally unbelievably crazy. Like, you'd have to be an Augur to even think I was telling the truth, and even then you'd just assume I thought it was true because I was crazy. That's how crazy I'm talking, so pretty fucking crazy.”
“Lay it on me.”
Another sip down.
“I'm Macarthy. The Macarthy. Mac.”
“Yeah?” Squinting at me with one eye and getting a goofy grin. “I don't think so. I just saw you in the bath and you're definitely missing something he's got.” Tilting her head off kilter. “But maybe there's a resemblance. Hugh said you weren't related to him, but you are, aren't you?”
“I'm not related. I'm Mac.”
“Nah. Even though your tits aren't that big,” she comes out and says, totally deadpan, “no one would mistake you for a boy.”
“Yours aren't that much bigger!” My fist hitting the bar, causing nearby drinks to rattle.
The girl catching another case of the giggles. Trying to stabilize her chin. “I can call you Mac, if you want, for fun.”
“I'll prove it.”
“Sure, sure.” Taking a sip from her pint.
Putting my hand on the bar, palm down. Concentrating. Really tough to cast, my vision going double, with the fourth time being the charm. Tracing.
“What are you even doing?” she laughs.
“Look at my hand.”
Pointing at the one set palm down. Putting my finger on it, causing some black streaks to appear. Causing the girl some puzzlement. Coloring the entire back of the hand black. Looking at her with a serious expression and pointing several times at the hand.
Chewing on her lip. Looking at my hand. Looking at my face. “You're going to have to help me upstairs,” she says, “I think I'm too drunk for this conversation.”