Chapter 7: The Curse

I

After my brief time aboard a ship, I had been flung out into the ocean. I watched the remains of my vessel burning up before the current took me away. I was left for seven days with nothing to occupy me but myself. The only saving grace was the weather, the sea was calm and still the entire time. I layed on my back and simply drifted, holding my possessions on my chest in the spatial bag to prevent them from getting waterlogged.

Left with only my thoughts and no experiments to keep me busy things were not good, suffice to say I thanked whichever gods were listening when, on the seventh day, I was rescued. I was picked up by a bark, taking cargo to a town further up the coast. They had thought me to be a corpse at first, so still and pale was I. Some enterprising, and less than scrupulous, members of the crew had planned to haul up the body and search it for valuables - all under the captain's nose.

One sailor, a burly human with sun-kissed skin and faded tattoos, shrieked like a wyvern when he saw the body he had just dragged onboard stand and thank him. More was the pity for him as this allerted the captain and he emerged from his cabin. That quelled the tense atmosphere that had followed my sudden lifefulness, unbeknownst to the captain. Had he not arrived when he did, I judged the crew might have attempted some form of villainy to gain whatever coin they thought should be theirs'.

The captain was oblivious to the nature of his crew, when he was around they behaved as if their mother was watching - always polite and courteous. A rotund man who tried and failed to grow a beard, he was always jolly and well natured - loved by his crew. As soon as he discovered I was aboard he offered me his own quarters and promised to get me back to land. I tried to offer what little silver I had but he refused. Throughout the two day journey I made sure to stay close to the captain as that moment had convinced me the crew might try something untoward.

The trip was ultimately uneventful. When we docked in a large trading town called Dommoc. The captain offered several times to use his merchant connections to get me back to my family. He was so persistent that I eventually lied and told him that my immediate family had died on my ship which had sunk but I had relatives near Dommoc. I felt bad afterwards as he truly appeared to feel for me, a stranger. When we parted on the docks he shook my hand and pressed something hard into it, he looked up and gave me a conspiratorial wink. I walked away from the whole ordeal a gold mark richer.

I went to the local branch of the guild but they had already received news that the tower quest had been completed so I asked instead if Dommoc had a library, since I felt I needed a break.

As it turned out it did; being a hub for merchants, education was important and the library had a large collection of books. Unfortunately, being a hub for merchants, there was a fee to enter and a steep one at that. I had to say goodbye to my second gold mark for one day’s perusal and the books were not even allowed to leave the premises.

The building was imposing, made of stone - carved into pillars holding up the massive structure at each corner. It was not in keeping with the squat wood-beamed houses around it but that was true for many buildingings in this town.

Eccentric trader’s tastes fueled by the wealth which evidently passed through Dommoc created an eclectic skyline. Each major building was in a different style; all stitched together with the plaster and wood constructions which seemed most common in this world.

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When entering the Dommoc library I was greeted with an uninviting reception. The room was large, all four floors peeled away to expose grand high ceilings covered in elaborate frescos. Being a nautical town most of the images were of gods of the sea, or monsters from the deep. A giant electric eel was even depicted constricting a frigate, its occupants wailing in shock and despair.

The front desk was separated from the atrium by thick mana-infused-steel bars. A door led into the library proper and was made of the same sturdy material, supported by a number of wards.

When I came to stand in front of the receptionist I was ignored, he was deeply engrossed in a book. I coughed to make myself known. He stopped reading, took one look at me, and with a sneer made a shooing motion before returning to his book. I was an adolescent with sea stained robes but even so I found it incredibly rude. I coughed again. He rolled his eyes and pointed to a sign on the front of his booth denoting the gold mark entrance fee. In response I slammed a coin down onto the counter. He seemed startled then annoyed by the sudden noise but he didn’t say anything, only working some magical mechanism that was out of my sight. A moment later there was a clunking sound and the door to the archives opened. He then slid a mana stone over to me and pointed to another sign which read “No candles allowed. Punishable by loss of dominant hand.” He then returned once more to his reading.

“Jackass.” I murmured as I entered the stacks.

It was shadowy, the place had no windows to protect from sun damage and there was a spell on the whole building which kept the humidity low. The only light came from mana stones, some hung from the ceiling at intervals but only in the main corridors and the stone the clerk had given me was barely enough to read by. Still I was excited, the event at the tower gave me a hankering for some books.

I spent a good hour looking for texts on magic before giving up and asking a librarian. I then learned in this, and most other, countries a spell monger’s licence was required to sell spells or magical knowledge of any sort and their guild had lobbied for the exclusive right to own works in a commercial setting. For more than three hundred years they had a monopoly on the sale of magical knowledge outside of educational institutions. Frustrated, I settled down to a bit of light reading in one of the tabled areas; a book on coastal erosion as it so happened.

I had gotten to a section on cities, lost to the sea, when a sound disturbed me. By this time most people had left the building and there was only half an hour or so until closing, by my estimate. The sound which had drawn me from my session was a kind of muffled sobbing. I looked about the reading section. There was only one other person there, a kid - his head on the desk covered by his arms.

Annoyed at the disturbance I got up and walked over to them, they didn’t notice so I tapped them on the shoulder. When they looked up I could finally see their face. It was a boy, about the same age as my current vessel, he had short brown hair combed neatly to the side, brown eyes, and a long face thought he was of average height. His clothes were simple, a red doublet and hose, but they were fitted and made of high quality fabric.

“I’m… I’m… sorry,” he began, sniffling, but then devolved into tears. Reluctantly I took a seat beside the crying child and started rubbing his back as I would the boralo’s who had figured out the experiment they were involved in was likely fatal. It seemed to work and slowly but surely he began to calm down.

“What’s your name?” I asked in my best impression of a consoling tone. He seemed mildly surprised that I needed to ask but didn’t make a big deal out of it.

“Howard, Howard Phillips,” he introduced, his voice still fragile.

“Osseus,” I returned and went to shake his hand.

“Osseus who?” he asked, not shaking.

“Just Osseus.” I replied, patiently holding out my hand. He blinked away tears and looked me up and down. He seemed to come to some prejudicial judgement; nonetheless he took my hand and shook it. I was glad to see that there were some in this world who could look past their assumptions, it was an important trait in the search for knowledge.

“What happened?” I coaxed gently, now that the waterworks had ceased.

“The Curse!” he wailed before beginning to cry again.