Ch 4.5

The high street shops beckoned, he wasn't dressed for it, but he also had zero interest in making impressions. He turned ‘noticemenot’ up higher and joined the loose collection of shoppers and strollers without fanfare. His questions at the second hand stall and tailor’s had turned up no clues, so he entered the first likely looking shop and snooped around.

There was a sign over the door that read;

Banning’s Emporium, fine pre loved goods.

Over three brass orbs, the symbol for pawnbrokers and second hand shops here as well as on earth.

Inside he found much of what the stall in the market had, but at higher prices. No instruments to be seen, but he found some clothes that fit well and were a bit more upmarket.

He traded a copper half mark for a pair of dark green linen pants with a woven leather belt and shiny bronze buckle, two shirts of dull green silk and a brown silk vest embroidered with tiny ravens at the collar.

He topped it with a dark green felt hat that was very riverboat gambler meets three musketeers. The hat had bone disks and bright beads sewn to the brown ribbon band and a feather of sky blue that was just long enough to reach over his shoulder, too good to pass up.

The merchant, Banning, “Third generation shopkeeper” he proudly announced, only had one instrument, a badly damaged shamisen not unlike Otho’s, in the way that a limousine is not unlike a rusted out cargo van. The frets were bronze and very green with verdigris, it had spread to the fretboard as well, staining it unpleasantly.

The body was simple, a rounded square and had been topped with skin, now hanging in tattered, stained remnants. The bridge was nowhere to be found and the strings of course, had rotted in an age gone by.

Gary had to have it. As a child he and grandpa had haunted swap meets and flea markets, “adopting” musical instruments as grandpa called it. He had developed grandpa’s knack for spotting the unloved forgotten treasures hidden among the sad recyclables and kindling most vendors displayed.

In his time alone, he had come to feel almost a kinship with them, seeing a reflection of his own life.

Gary bought it for a few copper bits and almost danced out of the shop headed for merchant Banning’s recommended next stop.

Three streets over and around a corner in a pleasant cul de sac was “Curiosities” over the familiar triple orbs, these painted in fading yellow. Inside it was almost what he was looking for.

A few drums hung from the rafters, painted in wild colors, but they were dusty, skins sagging or torn and cracks marred most of the bodies.

A harpsichord in the corner was interesting, but too big to manage and looked pricey. A few unfamiliar orchestral instruments lurked here and there among the furniture and housewares.

Gary briefly pondered if that rug in the corner would bring his whole living room together and dismissed it, he could conjure one easily.

That was when he spotted a box in the corner, it had the shape and size he would have expected. It was black, three feet wide and high, with strap handles on the sides.

The front was set with a loose grill of rattan. Behind the grill was a cluster of silvery disks, inscribed with words that almost made sense around the edge of each. One large disk, taking up most of the space, with a smaller one filling each corner.

“What is this?” Gary asked the sleepy merchant, a portly, balding man who still somehow looked healthy.

“That? Sound amplifier, an old one. It works but it's a mana hog, nobody can run it long. We rent it out for festivals sometimes, always gives me a headache when I have to use it.”

“where did it come from?” Gary asked, really curious now.

“Don’t know really, my grandmother bought it from a traveling circus when I was just a lad.”

Like all musicians he looked far, far more than he bought, but this thing he would remember. “Rental you say… and you run the thing when someone rents it?”

“Aye, some of the clergy have used it themselves, but mostly I do it, only a few times a year.” The merchant ambivalent towards his device, Gary noted that with pleasure.

A drawer near the top of the box held a wrist sized silver cuff and a number of silver disks, some with pin backs, to be worn and some with clamps or clips to attach to instruments, presumably. Each inscribed with the markings on the disks, in miniature.

“Good to know” Gary said after touching the items and getting their info;

Harmonium: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

Harmonium Cuff: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

Harmonium Satellite: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

Gary bought the rug, he wanted to stay on Mr Farganan’s (“No relation” The shopkeeper insisted) good side. He paid a copper bit for the rug and an iron to have it delivered to his room at the orphanage, no sense starting rumors about houses in the woods.

Farganan suggested a store across town run by his cousin’s daughter “A lovely girl, about your age…”

Letting slip he was staying on the Adventurer’s compound had slowed the merchant down a little, but he smelled money like a bloodhound and Gary guessed he had tallied up the cost of his clothes and come to a figure he liked, or at least liked enough to try and set him up with a cousin’s daughter anyway.

Gary deftly escaped with vague “I will be sure to do that” and “That seems like a good idea” Farganan felt like a fumbling amateur, where Jennah was a predator through and through.

Gary cut back through the carpenter’s ward for a few last minute purchases, then to the tanner’s yard for some glue and bones. He had read about the stink of tanneries in books… and it was bad, but he felt like some magic was at work here.

It was not nearly gross enough and no flies or other vermin were in view. In the center of the yard, grew an enormous tree with broad frond-like leaves. Around its massive barrel trunk was a silver ring inscribed with more of the words that did not quite add up. From the tree, a fresh cool wind constantly blew, scented with a minty herbal aroma.

A magic stink tree, of all things, he could feel a subtle draw from the tree, it was almost as though it was tugging at his shirt cuff to get his attention.

As he reached out to touch the ring, a man’s voice called out “Don’t touch it lad, tree is hungry, might drain you dry and put you to sleep for a solid day. Wait for a priest to come fill it.”

Gary learned a lot that afternoon, working in a tannery is apparently not intellectually stimulating, or enticing to casual visitors. It also left a lot of free time available as well. He got a tour, demonstration and even tried his hand at scraping hides for a few minutes.

You have gained skill in tanning, Congratulations.

Good to know indeed! Gary was excited, not for tanner skills, but that a craft could be learned so quickly. He knew in the same way he understood his gifts, that he was novice tanner at best and could not produce high quality leathers and hides reliably without practicing those skills extensively. Though he felt some synergy with his experience working on banjos and drums, a little crossover there.

Back home with his loot, he locked the door and went right into the workshop.

The tanner’s wife had appeared with her two daughters near his age. Twin raven haired beauties, with green eyes that flashed angrily at him, as though this was his idea.

He had toyed with the idea of claiming to be the much rumored Gunnar’s lover. That would be an act of cowardly desperation though and Gary was a man of honor... So he turned ‘noticemenot’ up to eleven and ran like his pants were on fire.

“I can find another tanner, or pay someone else to buy for me.” Gary rationalized, as he sprinted down the late evening streets. Passersby looked for the running footsteps, then became bored and looked away. He was getting a lot of use out of his gifts.

Gary was exhausted, but the blue and green bars in the corner of his eye were both full, the yellow was at three quarters and the red one was full. “If there’s gas in the tank, drive.” His Grandfather had always said, whether about woodworking, practice or performance.

He got to work, quickly gluing up his instruments on frames conjured to hold them and with clamps plucked from thin air. He had fitted them both together once with conjured glue to test the fit and joinery. He had been pleased with the results, but the glue available in the carpenters quarter was not pure enough for him.

This was the good stuff, made from fish skin. Gary was glad for the tanner’s stink magic, because on earth this stuff smelled awful.

He took his new old shamisen out and laid it on the bench for tomorrow, leaving his other projects to cure overnight. The tanner had promised that was all that was required for his special glue.

In the bath Gary watched the stars and thought about how quiet his house was. ‘Maybe I should get a dog…’ He thought, remembering the pets in the orchard. ‘I wonder if Trelawney is as hot as Jennah…’ He would find out in two days.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Tomorrow his instruments would be ready to begin finishing… he enjoyed that play on words for a moment. Day after tomorrow and his clothes would be delivered to the orphanage. He barely made it to bed before passing out, the yellow bar slowly blinking.

In the morning he was hungry again, so damn hungry, he demolished the leftovers from yesterday and banished the dishes, still looking for more.

Grumbling, he went to the shop, getting out the oils and waxes he had bought from the carpenter. They were all fine quality, but nothing special, the last jar was lacquer from an alchemist at the college. He promised wonders and the sample Gary had tried in the shop had delivered.

By noon he was ravenous and everything was hanging to cure, the shamisen was stripped bare and cleaned up, ready for a new skin. He trotted out in common clothes to hit the stalls at the market, wishing he was closer to town.

His house had already drawn the attention of passers by, to the point he had banished the bell pull and made the poisonous vines grow again. That was a problem that needed solving.

He used ‘noticemenot’ to prevent anyone from associating him with the mysterious house, but Otho and Amicus’ names were being bandied about. Gary resolved to ask about a solution. Maybe a vacant lot in town and some gaslighting of the locals, they seemed to expect weird things from the college.

Gary hadn't finished highschool, but he was going to get into that crazy college and learn the secrets of this world, because, damn it, magic was cool as hell.

Gary terrorized the food stalls for a few minutes and dodged another set up attempt.

The shawarma vendor may have been hairy and short, but his daughter who; “Just happened to be working in the stall today…” was a beauty, with long ringlets of chocolate brown and graceful curves. A beauty who was not having any of her father’s meddling.

Waving a tzatziki covered spoon like a tangy baton, she conducted a master class in parental discord. It was a sight to behold, she passive aggressively nitpicked the poor man nearly to death right there in his own stall.

No hint of unpleasantness tainted her voice or expression, but her displeasure was there for all to see.

Every one of his faults and failings were slowly dragged into view, before his neighbors and colleagues. His money woes were now fodder for public discussion.

Marital problems? He had them and now he was going to get a lot of advice.

His upcoming appointment with the priest of Healer to have an embarrassing rash cleansed from a tender locale was also discussed.

It was a bad day in shawarma town and Gary melted into the crowd before she got the idea to turn on him. Damn tasty sandwich though.

Gary headed in through the gate and up to the temple district, looking for Otho. Inside the cheerful temple of Joy he found a colorful wonder of architecture, but no Otho.

Knocking on the door to the rectory brought an aged maid to the door, who told him; “Try the college son, wait, I will have my great granddaughter guide you, she is about your age…” He slipped away before things could go any farther.

At the college, there was a pair of city guards at the gate, but they waved him through without trouble.

Today the woman at the desk had time for him. Without Otho and Liam, especially Liam distracting her and no money on the line. “Aisha Quinn'' as she introduced herself, was charming and helpful.

Neither Otho nor Amicus were receiving visitors, having much to do. She did take a message for them but that was all he could get. On impulse he decided to try a little skullduggery of his own. “I just met that Liam guy,” He said mildly “what's your read on him?”

“I don't know him personally, but he is always polite and friendly. He does seem a little sad though.”

Gary nodded, “I should do something nice for him… what do you think would be a good idea?”

She flushed prettily. “I’ve heard what he really wants is to Contract with Healer, but Healer will never Contract anyone who has pledged to War.” She seemed almost conspiratorial, gossiping on a taboo subject with a stranger.

Gary felt bad for tricking her, but he did not stop drumming his fingers on the table top and humming ever so softly.

“I heard that he asked Joy to intercede with Healer, but has not been answered yet” She almost whispered.

Gary hummed a little more. “I can't do anything about that. Any other suggestions?”

Gary eased his gift back a little as she tried again. “Well, the festival of Healer is coming up, he needs a new set of festival clothes… Please don’t let on that you know about… the other thing.” Gary eased off again not wanting to jelly her brains or anything.

#

With a devilish grin, Gary went back to face the cunning and deadly Jennah in her lair. She had already extracted her prize from him, so this should be a pleasant visit.

It was pleasant, right up until she twigged to what Gary was up to and demanded in.

Gary carefully mansplained how sagely and cleverly he had sussed out the attraction between Liam and Aisha, only to be cut off at the knees.

“The kids in the market have been running an “Aisha murders or marries Liam” betting pool for a year. I’m in for a bronze half mark on married by next winter. Double share if it happens on the feast of Joy.”

Matchmaking was a blood sport in this town. “So what's your plan traveler? Fake kidnapping? Tried and failed. Runaway cart? Failure. Secret love letters? The girls at the college tried that, Liam can’t read, Otho answered all the letters and set half the female population at the throats of their co-conspirators.”

Gary smiled smugly. He had seen enough anime to know how this was going to play. A few minutes later Jennah was grinning,

“... and this is how it is done in your home? Clever.”

Gary was excited to be plotting rather than defending. “But who else can we involve, we need one more. I think I can get Otho or Amicus to help, I don't know anyone else.”

“No,” Jennah said. “they would smell a trap, those two are known troublemakers. Trelawney, now…”

A lump formed in Gary’s throat. “Ok.” he croaked, watching Jennah’s slender fingers dart in and around with needle and shears.

You have gained skill in tailoring, Congratulations.

She took that for hesitation. “Gary,” she said, pinning him to the wall with a steely gaze.

“If you leave my sister waiting for you I will see to it that no woman in this town will sell you food, mend your clothing nor shelter your pitiful hide. Know this”

“Yes Mistress Jennah,” He stammered.

She smiled, hammering away with those weapons grade dimples. “Good boy, your part in this scheme is almost done, you need only pay your loyal minion and let her work her magic.”

With a palm upturned she blinked at him through her eyelashes so coquettishly it left no doubt as to who was who’s minion. He gave her a copper mark thinking to gain the upper hand, only to realize he had overpaid by half when he was almost home.

“She did it again!” Gary shouted when it hit him, startling a group of people eyeing the front of his house.

#

He melted into the small crowd with his ‘noticemenot’ dialed in to ‘I kinda know that guy’ and asked “Anything happen?”

“Nothing, someone said it has to do with the acolytes of Joy we are expecting, I wonder though.” His random confidant said. Satisfied, Gary did his disappearing trick, made his way out back and conjured a back door briefly.

In the workshop, the guitar and mandolin were cured hard and nicely resonant. After a tranquil hour’s work, they were strung up and settling in very well. He touched them and got:

Guitar, instrument, lute class, unranked, can be enchanted up to Iron Rank plus by a qualified sorcerer. Quality, rare.

Mandolin, instrument, lute class, unranked, can be enchanted up to Iron Rank plus by a qualified sorcerer. Quality, rare.

Iron rank plus was new, he would ask the nerd squad if he ever saw those dweebs again.

While strings stretched and soundboards settled, Gary got busy on his weird, fretted shamisen. A new skin was no problem, he got that stretched on and tuned up shortly, an easy task when you can conjure clamps and rings in any shape or size at will.

In the morning the glue would be set and ready for new gut strings from the tanner. He really hoped that guy’s wife didn’t hold a grudge.

He tuned up his new instruments, waved goodbye to his patient and headed upstairs for a bath, a change and an evening out.

In his green and brown upmarket finery, Gary headed for town, easily eluding his watchers. He kept the mandolin out, it was being finicky about tuning on the bass strings.

Once satisfied he began strumming and picking through Greensleeves, because that's what you do in a magical world.

He kept his power on a leash, just playing as he walked. A few of the older teenagers were still in the orchards but most people were heading in at seventh bell.

It was still bright and warm, but the light had turned golden, Gary’s favorite time to busk. He slipped into the square and found a seat on the sunny side of the fountain, where the trees would just barely shade him until the day cooled.

The acoustics were good and foot traffic was busy, but not dense or hurried. He eased out his guitar and gave it a little fine tuning and started in with ‘Fly Me To The Moon’.

If a young guy with a bum leg wants to busk and not get robbed, one of the best places is near a senior center. The money is not good, because we treat our elders like shit. But if you play oldies, or even better, jazz standards, the ole great american songbook, it's a winning strategy.

He couldn't even remember how many old ladies or dudes had claimed to be his grandfather or great aunt to defuse an unstable cop… or more dangerous rent a cop.

The swinging jazz era was a goldmine and he meant to plunder it for his own profit. He’d learned the old timey numbers to play at the senior home that great aunt Joan had spent her last years in.

The family visited every weekend and played for the retirees, he’d always found that the high point of his week. Gary was shoved into the role of preteen crooner; a role he enjoyed very much, vamping and playing to the crowd.

He was no rare musical talent, nor great singer or performer, but he had been trained by a few his entire childhood…

As he pivoted his hips through ‘Ain't That A Kick In The Head’, a pretty redhead paused to watch, old enough to be his mother she smiled benignly, looking careworn and a little sad.

Gary took that as a challenge. He loosed just a bit more Entrainment and started a lilting tune, bouncing and infectious.

I have often walked these streets before,

But the pavement always stayed-beneath my feet before…

Gary keyed in on her, not constantly, but maybe twenty five percent of the time. Slowly, as the song progressed he brought the pressure of his attention up, until the crowd and she caught on.

She blushed and started to walk on but it was too late. With an impassioned crescendo he lit into the final verse.

Let the time go byeeee!

I won’t care if I-I!

Can be-e he-ere on the street where you li–ive!

The crowd enjoyed it more than she had, so he bowed low to her, blew a saucy kiss and swanned away, leaving her friends to gossip.

Sometimes you just need to bring chaos into someone's life.

He settled back on the fountain rim and traded for the mandolin. Jimmy Durante’s ‘Smile’, was bittersweet and a good mood for sunset.

There was no one around who could stop him, so Gary played Stairway. He felt more rebellious in that moment, heroically violating copyright in a new world, than he ever had before. He poured his heart into the finale doing his best Jimmy Page.

He would have liked to say the crowd was stunned, but confused was more accurate. A few seemed to have liked it little enough to break from his power and slip away. But there were a few who showed genuine enthusiasm Including one who seemed familiar… dark robe, hood drawn in the gathering evening cool.

She was short for an adult, but something told him she was closer to his age. Curls the color of good honey glowed from her hood whenever a ray of sun snuck in, gleaming on a golden cheek with a hint of dimple, even at rest.

This was dangerous territory, time for a disco beat, a real toe tapper with some surprising rhythm changes.

We’re no strangers to love,

You know he rules and so do I…

He had them, the crowd was holding the girl at bay, he just needed to keep playing and keep the energy up.

His own focus betrayed him. Just as he wound down ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, seventh bell sounded. Sweet, sad and ponderous it was in key and on rhythm. He started before he knew what happened.

You must understand, though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react…

Tina Turner was a fatal mistake, especially that one. ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It’ was a special song, too intimate, too heartfelt, but once begun, he had to finish it.

He felt the stress of the woman’s regard from where she stood, hidden eyes boring into him.

He ruined the set by wrapping it up with some ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown’ just to stir the pot, the dancing that erupted let him slip away.

He was certain that girl had been the acolyte of Healer in Otho’s goonsquad. He felt bad as a performer, bailing out on a show leaving such weird energy behind. ‘Mom would have told me to do better next time.’ He thought.

#

He was in a pub, doing an entire Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra homage for dinner and three copper bits. A pittance to be sure, but Gary planned to make it up at dinner, he was still hungry enough to eat wet leather.

When Liam sidled up to his tiny corner stage, Gary took a break, waving at the barman and giving the audience some smooth patter.

“Back in five folks, tip your waitress, try the pear cider and welcome to Wyeth’s pub where if you can say the name, keep drinking!” Liam was waiting in the alley (cleanest ever!) when Gary came out.

“Otho and Amicus will be by in the morning, they have some information for you.” His brow furrowed, “Otho requested that I come too, so there will be the three of us and an acolyte from Healer.” Gary’s heart sank, seeing doom on the horizon.

“Sadhu Patel is well respected and a man of discretion Gary, he will keep any secret that does not involve public safety, that is the law.” Liam said, seeing his reaction. “Acolyte Tawny was disappointed, but her duties call her elsewhere tomorrow.”

A fine bramble was being laid, entangling him in this crazy town. He wondered if the evil seed of meddling that had been planted in his soul by Liam and Aisha’s cluelessness, was going to bear bitter fruit for his own vintage.

#