The thousands of glass tiles coating the ceiling reflected every inch of lantern light. It was a dazzling piece of art and workmanship he never grew tired of seeing. Eclipse stepped into the Headmistress’s office while she shut the heavy door behind them. Plaster busts of scholars and glass vases stood on columns leading to the heavy stone desk. Behind her desk was a large bird cage, with several colourful birds bobbing from perch to perch. Their songs floated through the space but as he approached, they grew quiet. She stood away from him, securing the latch and the pets before she addressed him.
“Lord Orbit, don’t you grow tired of this game?” Her short grey hair curled under her ears, and she regarded him with sharp eyes. She was tall, with narrow shoulders and wore the white Imperial Robes. White pants, matching jacket, and a golden silk sash at her waist.
“Every day, Headmistress, but we cannot let the softness of the body win against the will of the mind.”
She took a seat across from him, settling into her high-backed chair. Neither of them spoke, but she steepled her fingers waiting for him to begin. The seconds crawled passed. His ears twitched as the sand from the hourglass on the desk’s edge fell into a pile. The corner of her eye twitched in the silence. Her fingertips tapped. But he wasn’t in any rush to speak. He didn’t like wasting time. But having his time wasted, was worse. He was tired of games. Well, their games.
“I cannot give you what you want,” she stated.
“I assure you, that you can.”
“Let me rephrase, I will not grant your request.”
“At least we are finally being honest with each other.”
“I do not appreciate your flippant tone, Lord Orbit.”
“My apologies, perhaps my tone would be more agreeable if it had not taken me a week to secure this meeting. Do you need three assistants to schedule an appointment? Or am I hitting a spot of bad luck where everyone in the Academy is conveniently out with an illness.”
She pursed her lips while she fidgeted with the pearl ring on her middle finger. A new addition since the last time he saw her. The light caught the stone, which drew his full attention to the jewelry. It wasn’t a pearl. It was an opal. He’s spent enough time with Moira’s staff to know the difference.
“Sometimes new jewelry takes time to adjust to.” He commented. She caught herself and moved her hand to her lap.
“Let us be frank. I cannot reverse a Council decision. My hands are tied, it is above me.”
For once he believed her. But only in part. “Are you implying that you, the headmistress of the most influential Mage Academy on the continent, has not even the slightest sway over a bureaucrat? All I am asking for is your support. A letter at most.”
“And what of the victim’s family? If they hear we are challenging the verdict, then they will be knocking on my door making their own demands and seeking my support. It is over Lord Orbit. It is best if everyone moves on.”
“The family will not protest to a new investigation. A real one.”
“We investigated. We examined everything. I will not put my students and their families through further interviews all for the sake of your Mage’s comfort.”
“We are many things Madame Seidel, but liars are not one of them. I saw the same reports as you. The official ones with all the official seals. And we both know the investigation did not go far enough. Godfrey latched onto a scapegoat, and it never went passed that.”
“You’re just a Guardian. A Guardian to an outcast Mage, nonetheless. You’re in no position to make demands of any of us. Return to Alexanderia and live out the rest of your days babysitting her. Zander knows she needs it.”
Their conversation ran its course, and she escorted him from the office. He hadn’t plan to bring up Eyden's Pass, but he had a hunch. It was once a prosperous Opal mine in the old days. And with the rumours of digging and slaves in the north, he had to make sure the two weren’t connected. She denied knowing about it, but the surprise on her face told another story. The inflection in her voice told him there might be another avenue to investigate. His only regret was allowing Saule and her friend to investigate on his behalf.
He met Saule in her first year, on her first day to be exact. Moira had helped mend her robes after the girl fell down the steps. Since that day Moira kept tabs on her. Ensuring she was making friends, following along in her studies, and being an ear if she needed it. He had no doubt she could handle herself out in the outskirts, but she was still undertraining. Despite her successes, when he looked at her, he still saw the ten-year-old from that day. But as soon as he agreed to Saule's offer, his stomach sank. He didn't have a good feeling about it. Unfortunately, he couldn't take it back, Umara spins forward, and so must he.
The wise course of action was to return to the temple. But the opal on Seidel's finger was a concern. The Council forbade any member of the Imperial rank to wear it. Going as far as to ban it from the kingdom altogether. The gem was a potent magic enhancer and to wear it, even as a ring, could act the same as a staff. To his knowledge the only Opal staff in existence was Moira’s. Anything else was rumour or legend. And if it wasn’t for her parentage, they would’ve forced her to use a different one. So, while his Mage was an edge case, he wondered how Seidel got her new accessory.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
With most official channels blocked, he resorted to his less accredited associates. As the terrible saying was, there was more than one way to skin a cat. He hadn’t made it as far in life as he did, by always playing by the rules. If the legitimate businesses were off limits than it left him no choice but to visit Horace.
The market had a different atmosphere than the orderly shops on the canyon walls. New stalls seemingly appear overnight, claiming any small part of the desert floor as their own. The narrow streets were always changing. But some stalls were staples. Present for years and were the foundation of the market. One of them was Hoarce’s stall. Eclipse meandered through the crowds, careful to avoid the eyes of the Crims. The crimson robed Enforcers. They kept order in the market, one way or another, and he knew they would disagree with his presence.
Hoarce glanced over at him from a pile of gold bangles. Ropes of glass beads and crystal pendants dangle from their wooden stands. His wife sat on a stool shifting her gaze between Eclipse and her husband. Whatever unspoken conversation passed between them, led to Hoarce sighing, and motioning for him come behind the stand. Eclipse slipped under the back curtain as his wife exited. She gave him a warm smile before adjusting her shopping basket and leaving. Hoarce motioned him to lay low so the shoppers wouldn’t see him.
“Eclipse, old man, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.” He watched the passing customers and tried not to look at him for too long.
“My apologies Hoarce, I need information.”
“I want to help, I do, but the Council is strict.”
"You have bypassed them before; you will stand here and tell me you have cleaned up your act?"
“No one makes any money here by being honest." He chuckled to himself. "If you must ask, ask. We don’t have much time.”
“I require opals.” Hoarce’s face puckered like he sucked on a lemon. He glanced around the street, hoping no one was close enough to overhear.
“Old man, my friend, you know those are prohibited.”
“Yes, but there is always a way.”
Hoarce pondered for a moment, rubbing the thick beard on his face. He took the edge of his sleeve and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“No self-respecting vendor will ever sell them.”
“I assumed not. I am more interested in how they came to be sold. Last time I was here it was impossible to get any. But now it seems, pathways have been made.”
“When you were here last, the opal supply was nonexistent.”
“Was a supply found or brought in?”
“Not sure.” He waved his hands in front of his chest, “I don’t deal in gems, too regulated. I don’t know where they came from, or how. But I heard if you ask the right people, you can get your hands on one.”
“Like the Ferryman?”
“No, they stay out of it. People are more lucrative.”
“Husband,” his wife’s head appeared between the curtains. “The Crims are about.”
“I’m sorry old man, I wish I could do more.”
“I will make my leave, thank you Hoarce. Nayan, always a pleasure. May Zander light your path.”
He slipped from the stall, hugging the back of the others, hoping the crates of merchandise concealed him. He chewed on Hoarce’s words. A new supply of opals. He couldn’t shake the disappearance of the Ferryman. Despite his friend’s opinion it was possible the new gem enterprise was too tempting to ignore. If there was one person who could sneak opals into the kingdom and avoid the Crims, it would be the Ferryman.
The sand under him stiffened under his padded feet. Then a firm tug sent him crashing face first into the sand. The hum of magic fizzled with the settling dust. Between the plumes he saw the iconic robes, that gave the Enforces their name. Two, with staffs at the ready; poised to unleash another attack.
The sand shifted, this time his feet acted first. He leapt from the ground to a stack of barrels beside a bar. One of the Crims shouted for him to stop, but he was already racing into an alley. He hugged the shadows, but they followed. Between abandoned planks, barrels, and trash he went unseen. The magic around them vibrated, he shuffled faster until he saw the other side of the street. All he had to do was slip into a crowd, then he was free.
Their magic fizzled in the air. He ran faster, but the ground slid away. Every time he jumped ahead hoping to out race it. But every foot gained sent him back two. The weight of the dirt smashed into the stalls; bowling over unsuspecting bystanders. Behind him the wind roared, and the sand crashed over him. Again and again, until all he saw was the wall of golden misery. Until he felt the weight pressing him downwards. Until his vision went black. When whooshing flooded his ears and squeezed his chest. Then he swam. His paws fought against the tide, clawing inch by inch until he felt the sun on his fur. His lungs burned as he pushed his aching muscles forward. Then, like a vision from the Gods, he saw the sky.
Each wave brought the Enforcers closer. Between the smell of dirt was the scent of their sweat. He couldn't give up, not when the sand was up to his knees, he had to keep going. It slides under him again, he summoned a burst of energy and leapt on top of the bobbing debris. From crate to broken barrel he overcame the worse of it. A head of him was salvation. A clay brick building with a low hanging wooden awning above the entrance.
The Crims howled as the wave thundered behind him. They sensed the end, his end, knowing he had nowhere else to go. But his desperation only spurred him on. Because of Moira’s love of the ocean, he napped on his share of beaches. The waves were rhythmic, and the desert wasn't any different. His eyes were too blurry to look back, but he listened. Listened to their last desperate attempt. Destroying the poverty-stricken merchants were one thing. Damaging the expensive brick businesses was different.
He listened to the wave. Each little pebble rolling, tumbling until it grew into the collective; ready to strike. The plank under him was giving way. It slid backward, his safety growing further away in a blink. The wave rose, casting everything in shadow as it blocked out the sun. Clumps of sand piled over him and pelted his back. Higher he climbed, until the sun burned his back. Then he saw the shop. And in a breath, he was careening downwards.
It happened in a heartbeat. Solid ground appeared under his feet. He lay on his side, panting as his heart thumped against his ribs. Below people screamed, the sound of cascading sound muffled the arguing. He misjudged the distance, he missed the awning, but the roof was a fortunate happenstance. Before the Crims could make their way to him, he pulled himself upright and raced to the other side. With any luck from the Goddess, he could still make it to the Temple.