Reyla stood beside the door. Listening, waiting. Karsus hadn’t attempted any sort of muffling spell, which Reyla had taken as permission to eavesdrop. She heard the speech, the agreement, the strange prayer as Lanyura gave up some blood. And then finally the silence as Silben’s class took to practising ‘propagating thermal waves’.
Fireballs. Even Reyla agreed that the layman’s term was better for this particular spell.
Either way, she stayed in waiting when the two finished shortly after. Alix pushed through the door, eyes roving right over where Reyla stood. She didn’t even have to think very hard for the spell anymore, not when it was only normal light.
Karsus said a few words to the boy—sending him to a room upstairs where he could stay—before turning back to Reyla. She waited until the Lanyura’s footsteps had faded down the corridor before dropping her invisibility.
“It’s wrong,” she said, trying to convey all the meaning with just simple words, “Doing it like this. It’s dishonest at best. You’re manipulating the child.”
“He’s not a child, I don’t think,” Karsus replied, watching after where Alix had left, “I would have agreed with you when I first saw him, to be sure. But we don’t call Fallon a child, do we?”
“It’s different.” Reyla was quiet, contemplative, “Fallon’s been with us for almost eighteen years. How are you going to get him up to the same standard as someone training their entire life? More importantly, someone who hasn’t developed any of the Universities mental blocks.”
“Well, having the best of us to tutor him would be a start—”
“No. I refuse. Don’t ask me again.”
“Reyla, it’s been almost decades since your master died. Think: you owe Alix a proper education.”
“I don’t owe anyone anything!” she snapped, taking a finger to the taller man’s chin. She was vindicated to see an appropriate flash of fear on his face. Karsus wasn’t under any illusions that his height made him stronger. The expression was gone in an instant, Karsus’ stony facade returning.
“I disagree. Maybe you don’t owe anyone else, but you owe Asta at least this much.”
“Stop it. You have no idea of my reasons.”
“Enlighten me, then,” he retorted, “You are the one who accused me of manipulating him.”
Reyla took a deep breath, trying to reign in her wild emotions. Karsus was right; being a leader demanded that she could properly communicate, however much she neglected the role.
“We don’t know that we’ve found Asta.”
“You don’t think?”
“No. My master… Asta was Mother-damned brilliant. And he was also the only one who could properly find each of us. He did his best job to leave a map of his Nexus, but there was always the possibility that Fallon could get it wrong. She’d never met him, after all. The blueprints could’ve easily decayed in the time it’s taken Fallon to figure out the searching spell. It was a tragedy that Asta couldn’t teach her himself.”
Karsus deliberated his response. Reyla could see the thoughts churning behind his eyes.
“The girl was sure,” he said eventually.
“Fallon isn’t fully trained, either,” Reyla dismissed, walking past Karsus to look out a window, “The time since she could cast through Nexus mana fields is two weeks, at most.”
“We’re at an impasse then. You don’t think we’ve found Asta, I do. Either way, it doesn’t solve the problem of what we’re going to do with Alix.”
“I think it’s simple,” Reyla said, the idea she’d been searching for finally precipitating in front of her, “You said he’s done the Lacurna Medallions through official means. What were the scores?”
“I, ah, am not sure. I could check for you.” He made to move, but then saw through Reyla’s question. “They’re high, if that’s what you mean. All but the natural sciences, because of Fallon.”
“Of course. His education is perfect, but his magic isn’t. You know what I’m referring to. That’s where he should go.”
“Reyla no.” Karsus spoke with a wary sort of dread. “Are you insane? That program’s designed for University graduates and legacy students. There’s no way that Alix—who still can’t cast without a Mother-damned ‘Beacon’—will last a week.”
Reyla simply shrugged, then looked up directly into his eyes. “Then he’s not who we thought. And besides, if he wants to study the sciences like you agreed, then this is probably the best way to do it.” She gave him a hard look. “If he performs up to standards, I will consider becoming his tutor.”
Karsus stared at her, mouth in a tight line. Reyla recognised his acquiescence; she was his superior, after all.
“Make him retake the sciences Medallion,” she said, preparing her cloak, “Make sure you’ve gauged him accurately—and without interference. I’m going out.”
“Another supply run?”
Reyla’s mouth twisted into a grim smile, but Karsus couldn’t see it from behind. “No, actually. Something else. I’ll be back by midnight. Maybe.”
That was if everything went to plan, at least.
It was getting dark outside by the time Reyla left the Wormwood site. She’d come up with the name herself, when they repurposed the decrepit block into one of the training camps for their mages. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to convince any remaining residents to give up their homes on the block. Now it was one of their strongest locations.
Reyla made it some ways from Wormwood before stretching out her magical senses as far as they would reach. No mana fields. No spellcasting. That was good. But she didn’t imagine anyone was waiting for her out here in the Burns. With a twist of her will, she drew in the light bouncing off her body and bent it into her cloak of shadow. It followed the fabric of her cloak like tenebrous outline, completely obscuring any texture or shape. Next, she layered over that spell her invisibility.
Her feet and arms disappeared from view as her body seemed to fold into the alleyway. It was an incredibly low energy spell, but Reyla couldn’t afford to have the mana-debt build up if she wanted to be discrete. Instead, she just absorbed a tiny portion of light from her surroundings, making it slightly colder and almost unnoticibly sharpening the jagged lines of shadows. Like a spectre, she roved onto the mainstreet. The impoverished people she slunk past wouldn’t even feel a chill breeze.
Reyla didn’t need to enter Cityside, nor pass through the outer wall. She was headed to another location in the Burns. She needed to be discrete, but she could still spare some magic to push of against the ground with each step, leaping down empty streets with nobody to hear her. It was peaceful, really. It gave her time to think.
The Lanyura boy was trouble.
He was too far outside the type of person Reyla typically dealt with. Normally, people like him simply went to the Lacurna University, lauded by academics and completely ignoring sorcery. Most people who went that route couldn’t cast at all, but apparently Alix had shown skill—by common standards—and taken it as a subject for study. Reyla scoffed. Even the University didn’t teach real magic. It only served as a vetting phase for potential recruits while they were taught things that would be useful later, should they be selected by the Crown.
That was the elite cohort that she was sending Alix to be a part of.
Calming her emotions to maintain the spell, Reyla turned into one of the richer parts of the Burns. Richer because it was the centre of gang territory, prospering somewhat under the protection of the Crowspawn. They were a savvy group, having held five districts for over a decade. Their business obviously wasn’t legal. And it wasn’t even that clean. But the professional trader guilds that served the Crowspawn did good work; the Bower markets were the largest West of the wall.
Sprawling amongst haphazard stone establishments, the Bower markets were built across many different elevations. Entire sections of stalls were elevated on wooden walkways clinging against the buildings or on small hills. Colourful cloth was draped over the vendors, creating a swirling mess of trade filled with people every night. There were even some merchants setup on top of buildings, with or without obvious ways to get up. They knew who they were marketed towards.
Reyla ignored all of it—she’d seen the sight hundreds of times—in favour of approaching the largest establishment in the centre of it all. Stands were setup all around its squat exterior, but none dared encroach on its regal entrance. A sign above the door read ‘The Crow’s Perch’.
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Reyla wrinkled her nose. For such a successful organisation, they really weren’t all too subtle. In all the hubbub, nobody noticed the doors pushing gently opened and Reyla slip inside.
The interior of the Perch was tastefully decorated and darkly lit, its foyer panelled with walnut. There was nobody else in the lobby, but Reyla wouldn’t have cared if there were. She simply strode up to the raised bar that a clerk sat behind and made herself known.
She didn’t simply flash into visibility. That would be boring. Instead, she switched her invisibility for something more nuanced. Like a heat haze on a summer day, but in the shape of a person. One that the eyes slid off and couldn’t focus on. It did the trick nicely.
“S-so sorry, mistress,” the clerk stammered, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. P-please, the lady is expecting you upstairs. Room on the right.”
She stepped away. The clerk might have sent her on her way, but might never know if Reyla had truly gone. She could be anywhere, after all. The clerk shook their head as if it had been just a trick of the mind.
Up the narrow stairs was a corridor branching into many rooms. It might’ve once been an inn. Reyla had never cared to ask. Now, It served as the Crowspawn’s base of operations. She’d met with specialists here a few times, all of which with high reputations. Now though, she was the diplomat for a meeting between two companies—the Crowspawn and the White Hand.
An alluring figure met her when she entered the conference room, splayed sideways along a blue-dyed leather couch before a short coffee table. The woman wore a dark-green, close-cut dress, fabric draped over her body as she gestured for the invisible newcomer to sit down. Reyla took a seat in the sofa across from her and dropped the invisibility.
The woman shifted her position to better address Reyla. “Greetings again. Care for a drink? Courtesy of the Crowspawn.” She gestured to a decanter set on the table between them, which Reyla declined with a wave of her hand. “Really? It’s aged. From the Ikaran highlands. But suit yourself. I suppose you’ve never been one for pleasantries.”
The Crow was good; simultaneously flaunting both her generosity and the Crowspawn’s connection to river trade. Reyla analysed her face. She wore a thin white domino mask, which only should be able to obscure the eyes and nose. But instead, a mirage-like sheen extended from the accessory across her entire face, making it impossible to notice any specific feature. But without concentrating, it just made her look more beautiful. Reyla appreciated the subtlety, as well as the status symbol of wearing such a magical item.
“Your offer is appreciated. But there is more pressing business at hand,” she declined, “There are a few key items I was hoping to discuss with you tonight, in return for that particular service you mentioned.”
“Well then I hope we can come to an agreement,” the lady Crow said, “It would please me greatly to have the job done by such trustworthy hands, anyway. Typical hired thugs have no subtlety.”
“Well, the first is more open avenues for trade between some of the White Hand’s facilities and Crowspawn smugglers.”
Reyla, Karsus and the others had expansions planned for some of their operations, but that required more raw resources and labour. There was only so much that could be done in a pitiful environment such as the Burns.
“You know of the lower Kell dockyards, yes? Further South from the Crown Bridge it’s much cheaper for boats to dock. You likely won’t be able to get anything incredibly illicit—the Kell is scrutinised far too heavily—but I can set you up with a merchant or two who’ll turn a blind eye to large imports of, say, firepowder or blades…”
And so the conversation continued in that vein deep into the night. More information was exchanged, details of their respective gangs traded. Reyla dared say that Karsus had chosen the alliance well—she would have preferred him to be here now, but it would ruin his image to be seen amongst seedier types. Reyla had been sent because she could avoid being seen at all. The leader of the Crowspawn—or a high-ranking member, at least—was delicate and almost regal, while being flattering and never slow. The meeting was only the second Reyla had ever had with the woman, but it as they progressed further she became more convinced of the success this would bring the White Hand. Then it was time for the Crowspawn to state her favour.
A murder. Just one.
“This seems an incredible boon for such a simple service,” Reyla mentioned, trying to look for a catch. She was loathe to admit any sort of debt to the Crowspawn, but it was better than being caught blindsided later on.
“Well, I haven’t truly done any service for you yet, hmm? Just made connections. The people of mine you operate with will still want payment, after all.”
“All true,” Reyla said, nodding slowly, “Fine then. Who is your target.”
“An individual named Alix Lanyura.”
Reyla was thrown off, possibly for the first time in recent memory. She was glad for the darkness wreathed around her. “What’s your connection to this person?”
“Personal and private.”
Silence reigned for a beat. The dismissal of why the Crowspawn wanted this person dead was instantaneous and irrefutable. Because it wasn’t the Crowspawn, it was just their leader—and Reyla was certain she was speaking with the leader now. A personal reason. There was a conenction, she knew it.
But Reyla couldn’t see it.
The Mother-damned boy kept getting more and more difficult. But Reyla couldn’t show any recognition of the name, so instead she simply said:
“That’s simple then. My operatives will still need some sort of details to go off. Where does he live, for example?”
The woman in the green dress slid over a slip of paper. It contained a neatly printed address.
“I hope that is enough?” She asked coyly. Of course it was. If the boy had actually been there, Reyla could’ve had someone to silence him before the sun rose the next day. But Alix Lanyura wasn’t in his home in Cityside, he was in the Wormwood estate.
“He’ll be dealt with,” Reyla said, standing from the couch, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
A generous smile split the woman’s face. “Likewise. I’m glad to hear you can carry out the operation. Farewell, then. Can’t I offer to hire a carriage to wherever it is you’re going?”
“No,” Reyla said, beginning the working for her invisibility, “Until our next meeting.”
Then, invisible, she left the Crow’s Perch.
By this time of night, the streets truly were empty. And Reyla moved through them like a wraith. Gravel didn’t skitter against her feet, nor did her cloak catch the moonlight. But she wasn’t quite leaving no trace. Not entirely.
Then, in an unimportant road through the Burns, Reyla was seen.
A presence locked onto her mana signature, blooming into Reyla’s own awareness as the sudden shift of magic fields struck alarm bells in her brain. Doubling down on the connection between them, Reyla stood dead-still, ready to strike back. It was probably someone just stretching their magic, so Reyla clamped down on the tenuous link, trying to learn of her adversary’s whereabouts without revealing her own.
Normally an ability that worked without fail, now it slipped, skidding against the stone fortifications of will that were here opponents mana fields. Reyla couldn’t get any directional feedback. Focusing on her Nexus, she brought her will to bear. Only for the other to focus right back.
It was a completely bland signature, giving no indication of any spells being cast. That was worrying in itself, because it meant that Reyla’s adversary was manipulating the mana fields directly, rather than simply casting a spell which might have had a similar effect. And the fact that their awareness had snapped onto Reyla like a whip, as soon as she’d entered range. It meant that her rival had been watching, waiting.
In the dark, directionless night, Reyla’s spells werehurting her chances. They would flavour any magical fields she was emitting and partially give away what she was casting. She could end both invisibility and darkness, but she wouldn’t be able to recreate them if anyone approached her on a street. Doing so could give away her location to the enemy mage completely.
Instead, Reyla and her rival’s perceptions danced around each other, giving gentle taps but never coming close to actually finding the other. Whenever Reyla thought she might be getting close, her searching pulses would be shunted away by a cold breath, returning to her empty-handed. The tune of the dance was familiar. But Reyla had never expected to find such an opponent in the middle of the Burns.
She began walking again, trying to triangulate the enemy’s position by moving quickly and catching them off guard. But instead, the magic never gave her a sense of how close or far she was. The struggle was exciting but also deeply terrifying. Even Reyla herself—first and foremost of the White Hand, leader of The Six—wasn’t the most skilled with Nexus magic. It was too abstract, too far-removed from reality.
And she realised, with a weary shudder, that the opponent might be better than her.
Though it didn’t matter now. Her main goal was no longer conflict but escape. Reyla ran back to the Wormwood estate, fending of probing feelers trying to sniff out the magic power exuding from her spells. The presence weakened as she moved, eventually cutting off entirely after a certain range.
It had happened before: Crown operatives going after her and her people. But never someone so terrifying. Reyla wondered if it might be someone sent by the Crowspawn, but immediately dismissed the thought. Reyla thought she would know if there was anyone so powerful in the city, let alone belonging to her partner gang. That left two options, then. The Praetorians, or a completely unknown variable.
She would tell the others. But not quite yet. They were prudent enough to keep quiet and stay hidden. This wasn’t any earth-shattering change. Reyla composed herself as she approached the Wormwood building.
She let herself in through the hollow house’s door before completely equalising any magic around her body. Then she found her way to Karsus’ office. He was awake, sipping on a golden liquid and pouring over a paper.
“We need to talk,” she said, skipping all preamble. Karsus was instantly attentive. “About the Lanyura child.”
“The Crowspawn want him dead,” she began, “That was the payment they demanded for a whole book worth of contact names. This is what the White Hand needs. We have to let go of Alix and make him disappear.”
Karsus barked a laugh, as if it was exactly the opposite of what he was going to say. “Well, you better help Jericho design a permanent invisibility artifact, because you can’t kill Alix. Reyla, listen. I did what you said: I gave him an exam paper and just told him it was a science Medallion from a previous year. He locked himself in the room and came out two hours later. He flapped the finger-thick booklet at me and said it was ‘invigorating’.”
Karsus scoffed at the absurdity before continuing, “And there’s more! It wasn’t even the Medallion exam. It was a University graduation exam, for the—” He glanced around, then said in a whisper: “—the Praetorians. The Lanyura child is psychotic, maybe. But he’ll be a Mother-damned mage whether we help him or not.”
Images of a kindly, white-haired Asta flashed through her mind, bending the world’s mana fields and stepping through space itself. The Lanyura child was just a coincidence, she was sure, but anyone as capable as Alix might be was still an asset. She would have to devise a way to escape the ire of the Crowspawn.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Reyla still hadn’t mastered any magic to stave off sleep.
“...Fine. We’ll keep him.”