Back in at midnight, resting securely on a cot. No short drop this time. Feeling great. Complementary robe and sandals placed on the floor next to me, ready to go. Leaving my hair unbraided. Tracing and getting all the runes ready, the sandals taking the enchants just fine. No weapon, but these hands can be very sharp.
A rare occasion to see Priestess Vivian without feeling like death warmed over. Running to her and giving her a big hug.
“Thanks so much, Vivian. You're an angel.”
“Promise me you're going to be more careful.”
“We'll see. I might be making a bunch of trips here soon, but hopefully more other people than me. You could end up being very busy.”
“I wish you wouldn't,” she says, with more than a touch of sadness. “Good luck, Mac.”
Bounding down the temple steps and then back to the Rat Cellar. Madam Cecilia glancing up at my entrance and the bouncer by the door getting to his feet.
“Ms. Macarthy,” she says, “you are banned from this establishment for the foreseeable future. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sure, I'll keep that in mind. I left some of my stuff here the other night. It's only been a day so I assume you haven't sold it.” Giving her a grin and tapping my index finger on her desk, messing with her game of solitaire. “Right?”
“Yes,” she sighs, “we have your things.”
Pack and knife and cloak back in my possession. Doing a quick search. No gold ring. A surge of anger – probably could've had it resized or sold for a hefty amount – but quickly mellowing out. The ring had been returned, but in spite. Better lost, better a clean break, better at the bottom of the bay. Heading over to the bar. Glances and conversation at my entrance. Favoring them with a show of teeth. Walking up to the barkeep.
“Ms. Macarthy, you are not allowed-”
“I know.” Holding up my hands. “I was wondering how much fixing that bar is going to run you.” Pointing to the temporary patch job over the obvious damage. “I'll cover it.” The man only a scowling. “Fine. Here's a gold, don't spend it all in one place.” Flicking it at his face and heading out.
Getting to the town hall and opening the locker. Swapping over to my green cloak and stowing the brown one and my stored pants and shirt made with slick waterproof material in the pack. Clearing out the other odds and ends and leaving behind an empty locker.
Picking a random inn, getting a light dinner and an obligatory pint.
***
The next morning waiting for Magpie just outside the wrought iron fence of House Ishtar. The front door opening and a man, Anderson, coming out and walking over. Seven fifty five. Wonder what he has to say for himself.
“Hey Hugh, how's it going?” Waving and giving a cheery smile. My display making Anderson look a bit guilty.
“Lucy, I'm really sorry, but Grace can't come out with you. House orders.”
“What'd they tell you?”
“That you're out.”
“That's it?”
“Basically. We were getting ready to go to dinner and you and Grace were no shows. I figured you two lost track of time and went to find you. Grace told me Liz kicked you out and she wouldn't come out of her room. Liz said it was an order from the Director.”
Doing my best to suppress the bolt of incoherent rage. “How's she doing?”
“She's fine, now. I ended up skipping dinner because she was so upset. What happened?”
“I pissed him off.”
Anderson opening his mouth, but then thinking better of whatever he was going to say. “You must have really done something,” he says, instead.
“I'm planning on having a chat with him about it. See if we can clear it up real quick.”
Anderson waiting to see if anything else is forthcoming. Neither of us budging and the stare down ending in stalemate.
“Hey Hugh, what if Magpie-” the man raising an eyebrow “Grace. What if Grace needed to perform some official House business to collect some of the proceeds from our trip?” Pulling out one of the filled bags of disjuncted stones. “You guys earned 'em, I figure we shouldn't let Shaker mess that up.”
Anderson ignoring the bag entirely and instead studying me for several more moments. Turning around and heading back to the House. Waiting for Magpie. Eight fifteen. Is this really going to get dicey this early in the morning? Not going to ask politely this time. Magpie's room, what side. The front door opening. Oh, there she is. Hugh, never doubted you.
“Hey Magpie, good morning.” Yelling.
Bringing her finger up to her lips and hustling over.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she says.
“Saying good morning.”
“You don't need to yell it.” The girl glancing over her shoulder.
“Sure I do, it's a beautiful morning. Is there a law against standing out here on a beautiful morning? No, I don't think there is, and fuck 'em if there was.”
Magpie's overly concerned expression morphing into amusement. “That's true. Where are we going to meet next time?”
“I was hoping right here.” The girl shaking her head. “That's easy, then. The West Gate. We're going in two days.”
“What happened to one day a cycle?”
“In that case, better on day four. You're going to have to tough out two trips this time.”
“I can do that, but the West Gate's a hike, how about eight thirty?”
Shaking my head. “Nope, get up a bit earlier, it's gonna be more than just me and you.”
Magpie not thrilled but nodding. “Where we headed?”
“How far down you been?”
***
Walking north through the guild district.
“So next time you said it was more than me and you,” she says.
“Yeah, it's with, hopefully, the two girls I was getting souvenirs for. I met them the second day in when all this happened. Evie probably got her schedule change since we've been gone. You'll like them. And, if Evie isn't there, it'll be-”
“Kate,” says Magpie, “who's getting that really cool gift. That thing was a lifesaver on the way back. What'd you get for Evie?”
“I got her something to annoy her, but then if she digs a bit deeper she'll get her real gift.”
“Which is?”
“You'll see in a little bit.”
“So where exactly is this place supposed to be?”
“We're almost there. It's bit of a ways but it's worth it. Doubt we'll get as much as over there for all these, but add in what we got today and it should be very decent.”
Coming around the turn. A brand new sign featuring a drawn cat wearing a pointy witch's hat. Ink's Charms in big letters. Tidy, well kept flowers in the boxes on the windows. Much tidier, in general. Step step, no squeak. Doorknob, new. The same door. Opening and, sure enough, the little tyke on the chair.
“Hey, is your mother in?”
“Hey, lady, welcome back.”
“It's very nice to be back, thank you.”
“I'll get her,” he says, before hopping off his stool and walking to the side room. “Moooom.”
Pause. Voices talking and then the proprietress of Ink's Charms coming out in a professional looking outfit. “Ms. Macarthy,” Ink says, “welcome. How was the trip?”
“The trip was great, but it's also great to be back.”
“That's fantastic. How's my brother? How's his shop?”
“Your brother's doing real good. He got bought out of the shop, but doing very well. He gave me this letter to give to you.” Handing over the letter. Job complete.
“He sold his shop?”
“He did, but now he's working for someone else doing it on an industrial scale. Doing very well for himself. His employer bought the last batch, but I doubt you can match their price. They're very hungry for this stuff out there. How do you think you can do?”
“Let's see what you've brought and we can discuss price,” she says. “I've been coming up in the world, too.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“It looks very nice.” Indicating her outfit. “And I really like the new sign.”
“Thank you.”
Giving her the two bags of stones and coming over to the other side of the counter. Starting to sort. Moving immediately to the floor when the counter had nowhere near enough free space, covered as it is. Ink using her magnifying glass and then bouncing some.
“So this is roughly the same amount you sold to them?” she asks.
“Yeah, and they offered me fifteen.”
“You're right, I can't match that price.” Chewing her lip. “How about eleven five?”
“Twelve.”
“You're killing my margin.” Bouncing another stone. Once, twice. “Fine, twelve.”
“Ink, I appreciate it. And then there are these stones we got today.”
Pulling out a much less full pouch and putting those on the counter. Not the white and black of the prior floor, dark green, brown and a different shade of more brown. Separating into three piles.
“These green ones,” she says, “sixty eight each, the brown ones, sixty one and then these more brown ones over here, sixty one.”
“I'm fine with the first two, but could we get a bit more for the more brown ones?”
“Why those?”
“I'd feel weird if they sold them for the same price as the brown ones.”
“Well, how about the brown ones for sixty three, instead?”
“That feels weird, too.”
“Suit yourself,” Ink says, with a shrug. “These green ones, sixty eight, the brown ones, sixty one and these more brown ones over here, sixty three.”
“Deal.” Reaching out my hand.
“The total is,” she said, counting out the green ones, the brown ones and the more brown ones. Five of each. “Twelve thousand nine hundred sixty silver, I'll get you a note.”
“Oh, Ink hold on a second.” Rummaging through my pack and bringing out Riley's gift. “I want to know if you can enchant this.”
Magpie blanching at the sight. “Are you really giving her that?”
“Of course. It's perfectly safe, and it definitely catches the eye.”
Ink gingerly taking the gift and inspecting it. “Yes, it can take one. What were you thinking?”
“Whatever you think would be best, but nothing too extreme. I'd say whatever'll cost about five to ten gold. It's for that girl I was coming in here with several cycles back. Evie.” Raising my hand almost a foot above my head. “She's a Cleric.”
“Oh, that pretty blonde girl.” Ink considering the gift again. “I'll come up with something. When do you need it?”
“In two days.”
“Two days?” Absentmindedly chewing on a finger. “You're definitely asking for a lot, but I'll try to have it ready.”
“Much appreciated.”
Walking out of Ink's, note in hand.
“What if what happened at the bank over there happens over here?” Magpie asks.
“Nope, not happening.”
“But it could, you know. Right? Theoretically.”
“No, absolutely zero percent chance.”
“Yeah, but theoretically,” she insists.
“Yes, I suppose, theoretically, that could potentially, possibly, maybe in some far flung universe happen. But not in ours.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” she says, with a smirk.
“I'm not waiting more than five minutes this time before I ask them to move along.” Patting my knife.
“You could do that, but then it wouldn't be as much of an adventure.”
“Vetoed. Not happening.”
Entering the bank and stopping dead. They're exactly the same. Exactly. Like, this is incredible. It had looked extremely familiar over there, but they're exact. To a T. If the layout is this similar maybe the teller has some kind of physic link with her other thing in the Tasnanca branch. And felt every kick.
“Hey, Magpie, you're right. We should do it your way if it happens.”
“Right? It'd be way better.”
Walking up to the teller. Looking for any kind of automatic response. Any involuntary flinch? No, just a normal teller looking thing.
“Ms. Macarthy,” says the bank teller, “the fee for cashing the note is one hundred twenty five silver, which leaves twelve thousand, three hundred thirty five silver. However, there is the matter of the fines you have accumulated, one count of aggravated assault and one count of property destruction within city limits.” Giving me a disappointed look. “Backsliding, huh?”
“You should ask your sister out in the desert about that.”
Squinting at me.
“The fine is two hundred fifty silver for aggravated assault and, based on the repair cost of the item, one hundred fifty silver.”
“One hundred fifty? That's robbery. The cost of materials is a fraction of that, and the repairs'd take a drunk workman half a day. Tops. I could even go over there right now and fix it for free in five seconds, if I were so inclined.”
“I don't care whether it gets fixed or not,” she says. “I'm only concerned with getting the money.”
Glancing over at Magpie and the girl nodding. Yes, yes, yes.
“The remaining value of the note is eleven thousand nine hundred thirty five silver. Paid out in gold, one hundred nineteen gold and thirty five silver. One moment.”
The teller walking out of sight for about twenty seconds, the clanking sound of coins, then returning with a filled bin.
The two of us glaring at the teller.
***
Almost to House Ishtar, just out of sight.
“Nine sixty split for our work today, four eighty, we'll say five each. One oh nine left. I'll toss back one, so ten each.
“Definitely fair,” says Magpie.
“We did pretty well for ourselves. I'll see you in two days?”
“Yeah, but we're going to have to go to a better place for lunch than today.”
“Sorry about that. It looked good from outside.”
Magpie starting to walk in the direction of the House.
“Hey, Magpie, let them know no hard feelings, okay?”
“This'll let 'em know better than anything I can say.” The girl jingling the bulging sack of coins.
“I know. But let them know.”
“I will.”
“And tell Liz she's a coward.”
The girl giving me a skeptical look, at that.
Waving goodbye and then heading back to the bank to deposit the majority of the money from today, and from the trip. The current balance in your account is three thousand four hundred sixty three silver, Two thousand nine hundred sixty three of which is available for withdrawal. Thank you for banking with us. More than enough to go to the pawsnhop for a new hand axe, but that's no longer the top priority. Sighing. Need to get back underground and get ahead.
Hours later soaking in the bathhouse, clothes in the process of being cleaned. Today, walking around, and in here, no stares, no glares, no whispers, no mutters. Still in the clear. Getting my clean clothes on, walking by the front desk, almost out the door, and then remembering. Checking the time, quarter to nine, and walking up to the counter.
“I'm going to come back for you later.” Pointing at the two people at the desk. Causing some concern.
More important business tonight. If the leadership of all the Houses know, then there's at least one other person who definitely knows. The person responsible for a good portion of my inherent distrust of Bards. Sam. With the Houses closed off getting in contact with Sam is probably the best bet. Should be fine - we'd developed a mostly amicable relationship - but it's been awhile, almost a year since that last odd job.
Standing outside Sam's on the western end of the merchant district, several blocks over from Haven. The official name on the elegant placard Chez Samuel, in script. The upper level, facing the street, one of the most high end restaurants in town. Excellent food with reservations required. But not tonight's destination - not wearing the appropriate attire - though wheedling a meal out of them wouldn't be the worst case scenario.
Walking around the block to a small staircase, with a much smaller placard, Sam's. Ostensibly the kitchen entrance. Heading down the staircase and opening the door. Brick walls and a hallway going straight ahead. The smell of cooking food from the nearby kitchen in the air. There enough light in here to do this. Taking off my cloak. Tracing. A red and green symbol. About that size. The House Ishtar emblem. Hitting a junction heading to the right. A dead end. Heading in that direction and studying the wall. That spot, right there. Pressing it, a clicking sound, and a crack opening in the bricks. Pushing it open, entering, and the wall closing itself behind me. Down another set of stairs, and reaching a metal door at the bottom. Knocking. A metal slat opening in the door, eyes looking out, seeing me, looking around. The slat closing and the door opening.
“Welcome to Sam's,” says the man. Doing a quick once over and inspecting my gear. “First time?”
“I'm here on House business.” Indicating the symbol on the cloak.
“This establishment requires a certain kind of financial stability to enter. Everything about you doesn't indicate that.”
“I'm not broke.” Flashing several gold coins.
“My mistake, Miss. I'm going to have to require you surrender any weapons you have on you. That includes wands or other potentially lethal magic items. Your belongings will be secure within our care. I'll also take your coat.”
“Is Sam in?” He should be in today, hopefully down here and not playing host upstairs. Hopefully not at this hour.
“Mr. Phelps is in, yes.”
“I have a proposition for him regarding a joint venture over in Tasnanca. I'm here on House business.”
“You are acting as House Ishtar's representative?” he says, with more than a modicum of disbelief. “I don't believe Mr. Phelps has the time to deal with you tonight. Please have them send a more established member.”
Shit.
“Listen, they sent me here as a test. If I don't get in now to see Sam I'm going to have to keep coming back. We're not heading out there for another six months and they're dangling full membership over me until I get this done. I've got a month and then they're going to send down Anderson, or Belgrave.” A flash of recognition at the second name. “You know them, right? So, if I don't get in now, I'm going to have to come back every day until you let me in. Please do me a favor and save me the next month of bothering you. I'm just here to relay the terms, which'll take maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. If you don't let me in, if I fail, let's just say the House isn't all peaches and cream.”
He's not convinced. What happened to people instantly falling for the begging and pleading routine? That was historically a great act. Avery, at least, bought it hook, line and sinker. This guy's probably just a tough customer. Alright, a different approach.
“I'm telling you the truth. Here, how about this, go and ask Sam if he's able to find the time to meet with a young girl from House Ishtar. Use those exact words and see what he says. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to see me.” Giving him a coy smile and batting my eyes.
Giving me another once over. Then looking at the House symbol, as well as my visible knife and hatchet. “I'll ask Mr. Phelps. Wait here.” Closing the door.
Every tool in the arsenal. Leaning against the wall and waiting. The door opening after a bit.
“Mr. Phelps will see you. Please leave your belongings here.”
Surrendering my pack, weapons and armor – no choice but to do so, wouldn't be let in otherwise – and getting a claim ticket in return. Being led through to the other side of the coat room. The inner door opening and a wave of smells, food, sweat, tobacco, and the familiar sweet scent all mixed together, washing over me. Stepping over the threshold. Not disarmed. What a wonderful feeling. This place may even be tolerable now. And there, the result of a little bit of hard work, the design sewn onto my shirt pocket. Trying to activate the Rune of Deflection, but the rune not accepting the mana. Did it change? Studying it. Oh, yeah, it did.
Following the man, rolling up my sleeve a bit and quickly scrubbing in a black area. Removing pieces to leave a Rune Trap on my skin. Not activating, but just in case. Sleeve rolled back up. Another black mark on my sleeve. Rune of Deflection.