Willow woke up in the Wing Spire as she did every day, a little past dawn but not too far into the morning. While she carried part of her family’s Legacy, her father had not yet deeply involved her in city politics and there were few expectations of her. Considering she’d come of age over a year ago this was a bit delayed. To be fair, Claret Sosa’s son was barely visible on the grand stage and he was twice her age.
She didn’t mind since it gave her time to do what was important. Besides, if her father had paid close attention, he might have caught on to what exactly that was. If he learned who she was involved with that would lead to trouble. It would come up eventually, a conversation Willow both anticipated and dreaded.
Her father and stepmother were already out of their residence when she made her way from the third floor’s living quarters to the dining area on the second. Predictably, Tlara was there. It had been years, though the same maxim held. Whenever conflict could come between them, it did. Their separation had done nothing to bridge gaps, to Willow’s disappointment and Tlara’s expectation.
That being said, both had aired out all the old grudges when they’d first seen each other, with moderation by their father and commentary by Alecia. With all that expressed, there was a truce between them while tempers refueled. Tlara didn’t even look up as Willow approached. “Hey.”
“Tlara.” Willow took stock of the remnants of breakfast and selected an assembly of fried bread and what fruit was able to be harvested locally. The starch wasn’t a common choice among her kind but the fruit was, in addition to the spread of well-prepared insects her sister preferred. Aucrest’s campaign to expand their palates had been heavily resisted by her sister, but Willow had played the dutiful daughter and taken a liking to the pairing. “Where are Father and Alecia?”
“How should I know?” Tlara popped a large grasshopper into her mouth, clearly grazing on the food her family had provided.
“They’re your family, Tlara. You should care about them.”
“Fuck, good morning to you too sis.” The offense in her voice was exaggerated, though it could become real in a moment. “What, you’re not too late to ride in his tailwinds today are you?”
“Father says it’s too early for me to be deeply involved in political affairs.”
“Jeez, this whole ‘father that’ and ‘father this’ thing was fine back when you were twelve. If you’re the same fucking idiot you were when I left then no wonder he just keeps you here.”
“He does not just keep me here,” Willow replied, calmly taking a bite of her crunchy bread. “I’ve taken to other pursuits. He encourages my activism.”
“You’re talking about our dad, right? The fucker who threatened to exile me if I told people about my class? I think he actually managed to keep it quiet while I was gone.”
Willow shrugged. “Maybe, after he saw what happened with you, he decided to give me more freedom.”
Tlara tossed a beetle near, but not quite at Willow, and rested her chin on both hands. “So, how exactly does telling people we should all be living side by side with monsters go? You go by the Hunter’s Guild often with that?”
Willow pointed her head up and away from Tlara, trying to stay above her pettiness and avoid an argument. “I am smart about who I speak to. Many agree this would be a better world if we could coexist with monsters and stop the attacks altogether.” Willow kept her head lifted proudly, not letting the mixture of amusement and disgust on Tlara’s face get to her.
“You know, I met someone in the other region that was just like you. Fucker.”
“You met someone who was kind, open-minded, and stood up for themselves?”
“If you mean weak, idiotic, and annoying, then yeah.” Tlara looked away. “Gods, it was like you were there drilling a hole in my head the entire time.”
“Most people find the presence of family comforting Tlara.” Willow recoiled as an uneasy sense passed over her, coming from Tlara. “Did you just try to use a power on me?”
“Maybe. Have to try out the new ones somehow. Why, you don’t find my presence comforting?”
Willow scoffed and let the affront go. As the only capable heiress of a major family, she had a powerful protective item that would blunt most if not all powers below level 4. It wouldn’t protect against a sword to the throat, but that’s what the spire guard was for. “Your generally grating personality aside, I would be interested in meeting someone like me who was able to tolerate you for so long.”
“What? Fuck if I’m going to introduce you two. That’d be a nightmare.” Tlara shuddered. “I left this hellhole to get away from Spiritualists. Among other things.”
“That’s what you meant? Wait,” Willow’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about the one who escaped the Spire yesterday, aren’t you?”
“How the fuck would you know that?” Tlara bristled.
“It was hard to miss how he was caught by a flying ringcat. But he’s not a Beastmaster, he’s the Artificer.” Willow gasped, a thought suddenly striking her. “He did it, didn’t he? He found one.”
“No he fucking didn’t! Shut up about him!” Tlara stood and sent one of the plates crashing against a wall. “Seriously, he doesn’t fucking matter!”
“Father was interested in him.”
“Fuck him too! They’re both idiots who think they know everything. This plan he has but won’t tell us anything about? When that blows him up like Claret fucking Sosa, I’ve got a ride out of here. A ride that shoots lightning, by the way. What about you?”
Willow took that as her moment to depart. It wasn’t just that talking to Tlara was like having your feathers slowly plucked while the exposed skin was branded. She did have a plan, and no one else could know about it.
…
“Miss? How can I help you?”
Willow broke away from her thoughts and shook her head, one of the others waiting at the front of the guard station to go ahead of her. It took a few minutes, but the person she was here for finally freed up. “Hello. Can I help you?”
She wasn’t surprised the desk guard didn’t recognize her, even if she was a fellow avianoid. The feather patterning of her and her sister were both very common. Tlara had hunter’s equipment to distinguish her, but Willow dressed plainly and kept as many of her items concealed as she could. “You’re Kelra, right? I was hoping…” Willow trailed off, seeing how poorly the woman in front of her was hiding how distraught she was.
The look most guards had these days of barely hanging on was one thing, but none of them were covertly brushing away tears. For a moment Willow thought about overstepping her authority and then decided to. “I am Willow Seliri, and I require the services of this woman for a matter of immediate importance,” she announced in the confident voice her father often used when deciding matters of state. Not to anyone in particular, she wasn’t sure who was in charge. The important thing was to act like she was.
“What?”
The conversations happening at each desk stopped as the guards looked at each other. “Uh, what for?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential. I’ll only need her for-” Willow was about to estimate how much time she needed, then remembered her place. “The day. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
The guard who spoke up scratched his head. “We’d normally have to check with the lieutenant, but technically that’s the Commander’s job now.” His tone made it clear exactly how much he wanted to bother her. “It’s nothing dangerous right?”
“No.” Willow turned to the woman in front of her, unsure of the mess she was getting into. “I just need an official witness for a matter and I found my last interaction with Ms. Kelra here to be quite pleasant. I assume you might enjoy a change of scenery, but if you don’t want to come with me I won’t press the issue.”
Kelra brushed her feathered crest, conveniently bringing her forearm across an eye. “No, it’s, it’s fine. I can follow you so long as you don’t leave the city, but only until dusk. I’ll have to send for a replacement at that point.”
“Great! Do you need any time to fetch anything?” Kelra shook her head, and the two departed. When they were on the street, Willow whispered to her, “So, where’s your favorite place for lunch?”
An hour later, Willow and Kelra were on a rooftop finishing a fine meal. Avianoids preferred an open sky above them whenever possible, and the establishment was tailored to their needs. The owners lived on the first floor to allow their customers this seating, earning the favor of the avianoid crowd. Willow had paid, of course. The confused and armored Kelra had slowly begun to realize the hammer would never drop and steadily relaxed. As her stance opened up, so did her guard.
Rather than pounce immediately, Willow waited until the small talk ran its course and there was a degree of familiarity between them. Even without an empowered charisma or any item to bolster that part of her, Willow could make fast friends with most people. There was just the one glaring exception. “I’m sorry to drag you away from work, but you looked like you could use a break,” she said carefully, guiding the conversation to where her curiosity was leading.
“No, thank you! I can’t remember anyone ever doing this. Dragging us away, sure. Those at the desk are at the front lines whenever a noble comes through with something important, but we never feel like we’re the ones getting the favor. Why me? If that’s ok to ask.”
“You seemed to be more overworked than the other guard. You know, my father wants to put a stop to all of this. He puts it in terms of ‘force readiness’ and ‘expected and observed personnel burnout’, but I think he’s aware of the toll it takes too. The humans are too afraid though. Duskers too, probably, once they get their faction in order.” Willow shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not here to talk about politics, you probably get enough of that at work. I simply saw that you needed time and someone to talk to.”
“I,” Kelra laughed, though the sound caught in her throat. “I haven’t had time to do anything else but sleep. My family would have probably forced me to quit if the pay I did get didn’t keep us all aloft. But,” The guard looked around. It was just after noon and the patio was crowded. Willow understood and withdrew a necklace from a pocket, activating the item. It didn’t have to be worn to work, so she didn’t normally bother to.
“Unless there’s anyone above level 3 here, which I doubt, no one else will hear.”
“It’s so quiet,” Kelra had a bit of wonder in her voice as the noise from the street and the other diners was banished like an unwelcome specter. “It’s never this quiet. Even at night, there are the duskers.” She slumped then, and Willow quickly activated another item that made the space around her blurred. This item was of lower level but would work against the predominately normal crowd around them. To the outside, the table appeared strangely contorted in a way one person in particular would describe as pixelated. “I was supposed to meet him here. The night before he-” Kelra broke off and shook her head.
“Take your time.” From Willow’s perspective, the outside world was displayed just as clearly as it would otherwise be. Their server glanced at the dome from which neither sound nor intact images came and decided to come back later. Willow also waited until Kelra spoke.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“It’s stupid. No, it’s not it’s just,” Kelra clutched at the table. “There was someone I was supposed to meet here earlier. We’ve been on and off over the years and I was hoping we might finally start something. Only, he never came, and today we found out he was one of the ones who left with the lieutenant.”
Willow had heard about the defectors, of course. It was part of the biggest news rocking the city. Claret Sosa of the Council had conspired with one of the city guard’s top brass and overstepped what was acceptable for one of even her position. Worse, she’d done it publicly and wildly fired a strong offensive spell into the city. That, combined with the timely reveal that she’d made certain trade deals unfavorable to the city, had all but forced her faction to unseat her while they found a replacement. That hadn’t resulted in any actual losses for the noblewoman, other than the most important of her possessions and the reputation of her family.
The co-conspirators who’d kidnapped the Artificer would have faced far harsher sentences if they hadn’t fled the city soon after bringing him to Claret. From there, Willow didn’t know anything else. A search was surely underway, but not one she was involved with.
“I’m so sorry. How could they make you work?”
Kelra gave her a confused glance. “I have to. If I don’t, I’ll be fired and the rest will have to shoulder the burden.” She jumped suddenly. “I need to get back! Gods, it’s already been an hour hasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, but I still have two things I need you to do.” Willow grabbed the woman’s arm from across the table, and she stopped. “I understand if you can’t tell me, but I would like to know where the Artificer went. The one who was kidnapped? I’m interested in talking to him. Not because of my father or to do anything to him, I promise you.”
“Him? Oh. I’ve only heard rumors, but I think he left the city. I wouldn’t blame him, to be honest.” Willow frowned but didn’t ask anything else. “What’s the other thing?”
Willow looked Kelra dead in the eyes. “Take the rest of the day off.”
…
While she had spent the better part of two hours getting the answer to one question, and an answer that told her nothing at that, Willow didn’t feel it was a waste of her time. Making friends was important for more than just normal reasons. Besides, it had been the right thing to do. She’d wondered about coming back tomorrow to spring Kelra again but decided against it. If the Silver Eye took notice it would lead to inconvenient questions, even if she was just doing it out of charity.
The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting the regular spots, taverns, and shops she’d become familiar with over the years. Willow knew the importance of regularly watering a relationship lest it wilt from inattention. That was how she spent most of her days, meeting people and spreading the word. Only with those she had gotten comfortable with though, since what she had to say was considered outrageous at best. Like Kelra, it started with getting to know the person first and then carefully broaching the subject. Those people who still wanted to see her afterward usually passed it off as sheltered naivety. That began to change as they kept talking to her.
Willow was good at arguing. Not like Tlara, who liked getting into disagreements. In the squabbles of their youth, she could generally come out ahead, up until Tlara pulled out ad populum and grasped onto it like it was a tree in a wind storm. Even if the majority agreed, Willow knew she was right. The monsters weren’t just monsters.
Oh, Willow was no diehard Spiritualist. They took to the extreme the truth Willow championed, callously spreading a message that needed a careful delivery. ‘Every monster is a person and you’re all evil for killing them’ was hardly endearing, or true.
“I have need of you,” a figure covered in gritty cloth said, appearing suddenly beside Willow. Outwardly they appeared no different from anyone on the street other than that they were very particular about their appearance, and made pains to avoid the sunlight. They were so much more than that to Willow.
“What is it?”
The cloaked figure handed her a large sack, lumpy with roughly spherical shapes pressing against the leather. “Take this to the Artificer and have him test each one. Should any be what he needs, make every effort to contact me. Otherwise, it may be some time before we speak again.”
Willow bowed her head. “Of course. Is there anything I need to know or do for this?”
“Disguise yourself. The man knows someone else is coming, but he doesn’t need to know who. At this stage, I doubt there is a need to fear deception or aggression, but be careful. Once that task has been completed, resume your normal life. You will not need to continue leaving me updates until I contact you again.” A hand wrapped in what felt like a sandy glove caressed Willow’s cheek. “You have done so well. We grow nearer to the end.”
Willow put one of her hands to the one on her cheek and wished she could feel the real body. “How long will you be gone?”
“Perhaps a month. There are matters that require my attention, and if none of these work then I will need to be more creative.” The woman in robes stepped away from the back, and Willow. “Tell the Artificer not to expect anyone for a similar period. There’s a pouch in there containing payment for his work thus far, as promised.”
“Wait!” The other as they moved to fade back into the crowds. “The Artificer, the other one I mean, I think he has proof of everything we’re trying to say. This could be what we’ve been waiting for!”
“That man has left the city. I doubt he’d return after all of this.”
“I could look for him,” Willow offered.
“No.” The voice didn’t leave any room for argument. “We can’t have your father growing suspicious. It is a blessing enough that he does not involve you in his affairs, but that does not mean he would give you license to roam the region. Stay. We are so close, Willow. Now is not the time to be distracted.”
…
It was almost dusk when Willow made it to the secluded alleyway. What she was doing wasn’t the usual way people got in contact with the city’s Artificer. Several of the birthday presents she’d received over the years had just been commissioned from the man, her father substituting what could have been a thoughtful gesture with what amounted to a gift certificate. But he was busy, he had plans of his own and so much work that got in the way of anything resembling a family life.
Anyway, most people didn’t come here for business. Arpan Morel received requests through the city mail and tended to favor those over belligerents who beat down his door. Willow was here as a representative of the most recent exception to that policy. Unlike the one who had come before her, Willow’s disguise wasn’t as total. Since she normally tended towards plain clothing, all Willow had added was a cloth wrapped around her as if she was about to brave a sandstorm. There was nothing she could do for her voice, but she’d also never met Arpan.
He’d been expecting her. The Artificer himself was at the door instead of the suit of armor she’d heard served as a doorman. “You’re with, uhm, her?” Arpan was more preoccupied with the bag she carried than Willow herself. “Let’s make this quick. Nothing’s worked so far, I doubt tonight will change anything.” The door closed behind them as he talked, and Willow wondered why there wasn’t anything on display. “The hearts I’ve been given are all level 2 or lower. I told your leader they needed to be level 6, but she’s trying to be cheap. As if my time isn’t valuable.”
Willow froze. “Hearts!?”
Arpan raised an eyebrow. His face wasn’t as old as it should’ve been considering he’d been a staple of the city for decades. There was a light of annoyance in the green eyes, of inconvenience tempered only by respect and fear. Not of Willow, but the one who’d come before her. “You carried them here but didn’t know? I guess the Mirage compartmentalizes knowledge. Smart. Don’t worry, no one can hear what goes on in my shop from the outside.” He held a hand out for the bag and Willow quickly gave it to him. “Are you staying?”
“She wants me to, just in case, uh, whatever you’re doing works.” Willow held in a breath. “It’s not evil, is it? What the hearts are for. I know people keep saying the Mirage was responsible for the attacks, but that’s not what we’re about.”
“Really? You could have fooled me.” There was a careful tone in Arpan’s voice over the spite. Even though the Artificer probably thought she was someone of the lower caste in the grand organization that was the Mirage, he’d been frightened enough to respect anyone associated with them.
Willow followed Arpan into a hole that suddenly appeared in the wall. The Artificer asked a question over his shoulder casually. “You don’t have any way around traps, do you?”
“No. Is that a problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Dril!” The armor she’d half-expected to see came running up the hallway beyond the hole.
“If the hallway is trapped, why can the armor go through?”
“Because, despite his best efforts, Dril is neither alive nor a thinking being.” Arpan held out a hand, and pieces of armor began peeling away to settle on his person over the loose and expensive silk. The assemblage did not fully cover him but accented the clothing well. The green gem settled right over his breastbone was particularly eye-catching. “I, of course, do not trigger my traps. I’m pretty sure the Builder who put them in doesn’t either, but we have a good working relationship. Your superior must be a Rogue or something similar because she’s able to go right through despite definitively not being either of those two.”
“What happens if I try to go down here by myself?” Willow couldn’t help but ask.
Arpan shook his head. “Come on. This takes up enough of my time as it is.”
So it was that Willow found herself spending the evening with the Artificer. The area was very comfortable, a pleasant chill in an otherwise hot desert with many, many pillows. The reputation of Arpan Morel was that of a recluse, but the seating which could accommodate at least ten contradicted that. Shelves upon shelves of books further made the arcane workshop an odd site as it was halfway to being a decent library. With the Artificer’s permission, Willow took a few to peruse. She couldn’t enchant, or even use magic beyond that which was stored in items. Such talents were solely for the Blessed or those who formed bonds.
Eventually, Arpan broke the silence. “You’re more curious than the other one. She just stares at me while I work. It’s unnerving.”
“She is committed.” Willow nodded, then struggled to fix the disguise as it briefly slipped.
Arpan pretended not to notice. “Well, I must admit I find you a more pleasant guest even if this arrangement is outside the bounds of my normal practice. You say the Mirage isn’t involved in the killings. I thought your entire philosophy was built around destroying the Council or something. By my count, you’re over halfway there.”
The urge to express her thoughts when asked bubbled up, but Willow stopped herself. She was well known for espousing what the unkind called ‘monstrous sympathies’ and Tlara ‘stupid daydreams’ at the tamest. “Killing our way to equality accomplishes nothing. At worst, it could make a Tyrant. Look at the city and what these killings are doing. The guards are running ragged, everyone’s worried, and for what? In a week there’ll be new Council members chosen.”
Arpan blinked and was fortunate that the Test Material ability he was using didn’t need direct eye contact to maintain. “That’s remarkably insightful. How are you going to change things then? And, if the Mirage isn’t behind the killings, who is?”
“It’s not us,” Willow said flatly. “We don’t kill.”
“These items the other wants, they’re-”
“If they’re evil, then whatever she wants them for isn’t what they’re normally for!” Willow was close to shouting. “We don’t kill! There’s always a better way, even if it means we have to use monster hearts and whatever dark magic you’re putting in them.”
The Artificer scratched his head. “Sorry I asked. Dril, could you get me-” Arpan froze. “Oh. Oh, damn it. I forgot!”
“What?” Willow got on her feet.
“Dril, get the door. You, uhm,” Arpan looked away from the plinth in the center of the room. The heart placed on it blackened and turned to dust as the power failed. “Wasn’t going to work anyways. Damn it! I told Massont I needed an another way out of here but the cost of a second trapped hallway was exorbitant!”
“What’s going on?”
“One Lady Alecia Seliri is here to, uhm, see someone. A friend of mine, but apparently he got what he needed another way and I forgot to tell her not to come!” Willow froze. Her? That was very bad. Together, Alecia and Arpan could expose her. Arpan had fears in the same direction. “She can’t find out you’re here but she’s going to be all over me once I open that door, unless this is when she springs the trap.”
“What trap?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. I haven’t told her anything about your people and I’m not going to,” Arpan said nervously. “But I don’t know if she’s going to want to go here or upstairs. Look, what level are you?”
“I don’t have a class.” Without obvious magical items out, and with a supposedly powerful connection, Willow could see why he’d made the assumption.
“Really? Good!” A full length mirror suddenly appeared by the Artificer. “Get in.”
“What do you mean get in!?”
Arpan put a hand in and out of the mirrored surface, looking very nervously into the face of the mirror. “Mirror Space. I’m not entirely focused on enchanting. When I’m close to the door I’ll resummon it outside of the good Lady’s line of sight and you get out of here. You’ll only be in there for a second,” he said in an odd way, as much to the mirror as her. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you if any worked. Come on!”
Willow eyed the item made entirely of magic and had a thought. “What happens while the mirror’s gone?”
“You’ll be fine. I imagine I wouldn’t like what would happen to me if something happened to you.” That made enough sense for Willow to hesitantly step forward. The space where the glass should have been felt no different than normal air. Once inside, there was a moment of disorientation, as if she’d been knocked out and just as quickly returned to consciousness. She turned around to find an alleyway instead of the underground room. It was so quick she didn’t understand what had happened at first, before she realized she’d been frozen in time while in the mirror. She ran out into the streets, not having had time to see what, and who, had occupied that space with her.
…
Elsewhere, a day’s travel outside the city, dozens of men watched in horror as the blood drained from the former lieutenant. He was pinned to the wall by five talons that had pierced through both armor and flesh. Every major vessel coming from and to the heart had been pierced at least once.
Standing in the hideout was the leader of the Mirage, still covered head to talon in her ‘disguise’. Only the extended talons that had cut through the gloves were visible when they weren’t in the wall. Jeras, already bitter and regretful of where his choices had taken him, was terrified. He hadn’t meant to have been wrapped up in this, but after he’d returned to the guardhouse with that damned sun rod one thing had led to another until he found himself implicated in very dangerous dealings. The choice had been to flee or stay and be made the focus of the city’s ‘justice’, since he knew full well neither Claret nor Bennar would face any real consequences that would satisfy a public uneased by the most recent abuse of power
Jeras’ hope of eventually clearing his name dried up as the last of Sherman’s blood stained the ground beneath him. The sand veil turned towards them, emitting a paralyzing dread. “I think,” the terrifying voice behind it spoke, “We understand each other better now.”