Chapter 27

One Tap

Who the fuck starts a conversation like that?! I raise both eyebrows and go to step around the girl. My first instinct is to shove her out of the way but I manage to resist the urge. She is part of the main BlackMist family, either a daughter or a niece and that's on top of being a warlock in her own right. Not someone to get aggressive with if I can help it.

My curiosity makes me pause. She had specifically said ‘ All that stone.’’

I’m not wearing or carrying any stone, so unless she is raving mad the BlackMist girl must mean my Forspoken Stone but I only have the one.

“Sorry, that came out really rude. I don’t mean it offensively. I just…” She trails off as she notices I’m just staring at her. It wasn’t my intent to give her the silent treatment, but I am, and she doesn't seem to be taking it well.

She looks at me dead on for the briefest of moments before letting out a little frustrated noise.

“Let me try this again please?” This girl is a lot more awkward than I remember from the last time we met. I shrug my indifference at her but she takes it as an ascent.

“I am Viscarra BlackMist, we met a few weeks ago at house Saffron.” I nod.

“Right, and you are Resh’s friend The beast of BloodRock.” I’m still not sure how I feel about that name. It has been floating around for a year or two and while it does make me feel pretty intimidating I don’t like suggestions that I’m not a human.

“Umm Sou-North, North.” I nod again, already regretting not having left right away when I had the chance to storm off in a huff. Hopefully, there is some other easy or polite way out of this conversation.

“I’m glad you are here tonight, as I had some questions for you after the last time we met. If it isn’t too rude do you mind If we sit down and talk I am dying to know about the process that created you.”

I recoil a little.

‘Gods above and below! Does she not know that cursed are made the old-fashioned way like everyone else?’

“Sorry, sorry I’m being rude. I have never met a constructed person before. I don't know what is taboo to ask and what isn’t.”

I feel my eyes bulge and my brow furrow. I have no idea what she is talking about, but I do not like the sound of it. Numbly I point at the muzzle, feeling grateful for the device for perhaps the first time in my life. It can be my way out of this insanity.

“Oh right. We will need to get that thing off your face, come sit down and we will figure it out.”

I once again sigh through my nose but follow the sorceress. She is moving towards the couch I had been eyeing, which is something at least.

Maybe in some attempt to fill the silence, I am leaving Viscarra chatters away as we circle around the tier.

“ You probably think I am strange or a bitch. It isn’t that I promise” she gestures at her face. “ I have Craftsman Eyes you see.” Having no idea what that means I shrug again and shake my head, though I’m not convinced she sees the movement.

“ I can’t see magic in the air or anything like that, but items that have been enchanted or created by magic like the Forspoken Stones light up like dragon’s breath for me.” She glances at me sideways.

“Being a Golem or whatever you are makes looking at you like staring at the sun ... that was rude too. My cousin forced me to smoke a Karata pipe earlier” She makes an airy gesture" and I am all over the place.”

‘What's a Golem?’

I remember thinking this girl had a witchy sort of scariness about her, and at face value, it might even be true. Those bones she is wearing could easily be the real thing dipped in metal. However, after only this brief time speaking to her individually, It's clear to me that is simply an effect of being a BlackMist. Dark magic or not, this girl is neither unknowable nor scary. When we reach the couch she sits down and gestures next to her.

“You can’t talk, and I don’t want to look right at you, simple solution I ask you a question, and then you tap my arm. One tap for yes, two taps for no. Understand?”

I blink a few times but sit down. I don’t really have anything better to do, and this is Resh’s friend, or boss, or girlfriend, or something. If that wasn’t reason enough to play along I remember that Viscarra apparently has some influence over House BlackMist’s activities in the pit.

Repressing yet another sigh I tap her once on the arm indicating yes I understand, the bare skin of her arm is warm and surprisingly thin. I think I feel bone with just that light poke.

“Excellent,” She says excitedly. “If a servant passes by I will send them to find a way to get that thing off you, but this will do for now.”

I hate to admit it but I feel a little surge of hope at her words. If I can get my muzzle off this party might actually hold some enjoyment for me. The scents of those little food stands as I walked past them were so good it was almost maddening.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Alright so first, is it weird or rude to ask about how you were created?”

I pause for a moment, beginning to think she has gotten the wrong idea about me somewhere and eventually tap her once.

“That's fair. I don’t want to upset you or anything. So next question: do you age normally.”

‘Exactly how much Karata did this girl smoke?’

Again I tap her bony arm once.

“I wish I had some parchment,” she says with a shake of her head and a silly grin.

“It's stupid to start a research project without taking proper notes.”

‘This is a party why is she trying to research things anyway?’

I tap her arm twice causing her to look at me sharply then clench her eyes closed.

“ You think I’m being ridiculous?”

One tap.

“Ugh I know, I know but just hear me out,” Viscarra replies, eyes still closed. “I grew up in Mordrun, I only came here about a year ago. Mordrun is called the city of warlocks for a reason, we have magic coming out of our ears up there. Every house or organization is like House BlackMist.” She takes a deep breath as if steadying herself and opens her eyes inspecting me closely until they start to water and she looks away.

“Despite all of that magic, in my whole life, I have only ever seen five other beings that glow like you do.”

‘Is this flirting maybe?’

“The first three are huge mindless constructs.”

‘Probably not flirting’

“ service golems that aid the city in grand building works. They don’t feel pain, and always do what they are told so, not like you I suppose.”

‘Not like me at all.’

“Then there is the city’s executioner. He was changed at birth, his limbs and some of his organs replaced with the stone so that he could be enchanted with all sorts of magical abilities.”

‘Is she still talking about Forspoken stone? No, you can’t replace whole organs with the stuff can you?’

“Last is an old general who has been practically killed dozens and dozens of times…gods below that's what it is, isn’t it? You are just full of Forspoken stone for your injuries.”

I am unsure how to reply, this has gone well beyond what I can respond to with a simple yes or no. So I sit and wait for her to go on, a strange sense of dread I can’t quite explain starts to slowly build up in my stomach, and then my chest. Before I know It I’m fighting not to start snickering, and I don’t even really know why.

“North?” Viscarra asks at my lack of reply. “Have you had a lot of bad injuries?”

One tap.

She turns and looks at me once more. I’m surprised by the look of scandalized horror on her pale features.

“You are just some kid who has been carved up a bunch of times.”

One tap.

She shields her eyes but doesn’t look away. “This city is insane.”

One tap.

The BlackMist girl goes silent for a while after that. Even when I can’t speak back I’m no fun to talk to. Well, I never wanted to come to this stupid party anyway.

“Ugh this is ridiculous do the servants just not come to this tier? It’s not like we are in one of the little sex rooms.” She goes a little pink at her own words.

“Not that I want to go to one of those, but that isn’t because you are ugly, I have lots of cursed friends. “ Her blush deepens as the words tumble out of her, clearly no longer under the control of their creator.

“And I actually think you are handsome in a weird way, but I don’t know you, and I know the reputation BlackMist girls have.” She is talking with her hands now. “ But I am not that sort of girl, and..and”

At that moment I come to a conclusion. There is something oddly compelling about a pretty girl making a fool of themselves. It is just that little bit extra funny, like a reminder that the gods didn’t give them every advantage, and they are idiots like the rest of us.

My laughter is muffled but genuine, and loud enough to interrupt Viscarra’s burted words.

“Why don’t we go find someone to get that muzzle off you?”

‘Nice subject change.’ I think sarcastically but tap her once on the arm.

Weirdly this time she leans into it, just a little but I still notice.

I’m not really sure why she is suddenly acting weird, or why she called me handsome. None of that makes any sense. I put it down to the strange mind of a rich person combined with the even stranger mind of a sorcerer, meeting the equally unusual thoughts of a woman. In short, I don’t try very hard to decipher Viscarra’s behavior, I just follow her in hopes of getting the muzzle off.

She might actually be right that there is some sort of rule stopping the servants staying on this tier as we don’t encounter a single one. Quite the opposite in fact.

“Ahh there’s my uncle, he can help.” She says gesturing at a clean shaven bald man of above middle years. While I’ve never spoken to him, I recognize the man as the BackMist houselord. It’s hard not to recognize a tall thin man covered neck to feet in silver hand bones.

Viscarra’s uncle is chatting with a seated artist who is working in an uncovered version of one of the little alcoves. On the walls around him are dozens of canvases featuring figures I don’t recognize at the top of each, and writing I can’t read at the bottom.

Viscarra approaches the pair of men and shares a few words with them. I’m planning to follow and introduce myself but I get distracted spotting Xael out of the corner of my eye. He is on the lowest tier leading a woman with vibrant red hair by the hand away from one of those little private alcoves onto the dancefloor.

I’m surprised the dark haired foreigner is being unfaithful, but I'm even more shocked that I feel bad for Kalon. When did that start? The blonde slave has gotten on my nerves since the first day he arrived in the BloodRock compound. Yet at some point in the last few weeks I have started to think of him as almost a friend, weird.

The BlackMist girl is waving me over and judging from her expectant look she has been for an awkward amount of time. One of these days drifting off into my imagination like that is going to get me killed. Thankfully today I just look like an idiot in front of one of the most powerful men in the city.

I try to apologise but of course my mouth doesn’t open. So I repress a growl and hurry over.

The houselord gives me a little nod and turns to the strange paintings adorning the little alcove.

‘North, North, North” He repeats my name to himself a few times as he turns among the canvases inspecting them in turn. I shoot Viscarra a confused look but she doesn’t see it.

“Ahh here we are” he says with a triumphant grin. Following the man’s pointing finger to one of the paintings and my confusion only grows. The figure on the top half is me. Well, almost me. He is more animalistic than I am, more muscular, with bigger fangs protruding from a mouth that is open in a defiant scream.

Directly beneath the cursed on the canvas is one of two words I know how to read.

'North'