THREE
The rooms were shit and they did not have a scrying mirror, but the Eight Cats Hotel threw down at breakfast. Memphis piled a thick slick of toast high with bits of smoked salmon and sharp cheese. At his elbow sat a mug filled with coffee thick enough to stand on, sweetened with brown sugar. If he wasn’t here to hunt down a murderous necromage, Memphis might have actually started to enjoy himself. He took a bite of his loaded toast and nodded to where Anujak sat across the table. “Where did you end up going last night?”
“The library,” Anujak said. “I was worried they would be closed, but I got lucky. The girl managing the place let me poke around for a while.”
“Lucky.”
“Yeah, and I only had to beg a little bit,” Anujak crowed around his eggs. As if that was something to be proud of. “People in this town are pretty nice.”
Nice. Memphis snorted. He could think of a few reasons why a single young librarian would let Anujak with his big muscles, dark velvety skin, and bright smile stay an hour after her workday was supposed to be over. He decided to test a theory. “I bet she offered to walk you home too.”
Anujak smiled wide. “She did! I got turned around and she was nice enough to show me the way back to the hotel.”
Bless his heart. Memphis grinned into his coffee. “Alright, lover boy, let’s focus on the task at hand. What did your search turn up?”
Anujak flushed. Ever the good student, he removed a small notebook from his coat. “The librarian wouldn’t let me take anything out of the building, but I wrote some stuff down that I thought would be relevant. Like this. Did you know about Osso’s Grand Expansion?”
“Hm?”
“Apparently, the city isn’t just the ruins on the surface, the Old City actually goes down inside the surrounding mountain,” Anujak said. “About a hundred years ago, the city was growing in population and the buildings on the surface weren’t enough to hold everybody. So, the council at the time authorized the excavation of three layers of the subterranean ruins along with additions to the surface structures. That’s why some of the buildings around town change color halfway to the roofs.”
Memphis had noticed that on the way in. He’d not thought much of it. In a place as isolated as Osso, he figured building materials were less a matter of aesthetic than availability. But he still wasn’t sure what the architecture had to do with them.
He did not need to worry, Anujak had the answer.
“There are more subterranean ruins than the ones cleared for habitation,” his partner explained. “As the builders were digging, they found that the Old City descended much further into the mountain than they had initially thought. Unfortunately, those levels were deemed too unstable, and too monster infested to be viable. So, they were sealed off. But there are still some entrances used by local criminal enterprises.”
“Sounds like a good place to hide.” Not to mention, the victims at the infirmary the night before had been sewage workers. They would have been underground anyway, perfect prey.
By now, Anujak was full-on sparkling. The new kid had done well. “You got all of this at the library?”
“Libraries are magical fonts of information,” Anujak said stoutly. “You should treat them with more respect.”
Memphis grunted. His experience with the library back in Garyu City was wriggling in an uncomfortable bench seat, getting shushed by the assistants while Des and Khadi scoured the shelves. Still, he couldn’t deny Anujak’s results.
The doors to the hotel swung open, revealing a large Kanatao man sporting a city guard uniform and a grim expression. His white hair was buzzed short, framing four stubby horns on his brow. “Sewer-delving might have to wait,” Memphis muttered as the guardsman made his way to their table. Hastily, Memphis shoveled the last of his breakfast into his mouth. Whatever trouble they were about to step in, he would not do it hungry.
When he reached their table, the guardsman gave a sharp bow. “Sorry to interrupt your morning meal,” he said stiffly. “I have instructions to bring you to The Captain immediately.”
At the guardsmen’s first words, the steady chatter in the dining room had gone silent. The people in Osso were bold. No one even pretended not to eavesdrop. The attention of the other patrons made Memphis’ skin prickle. So much for keeping things under his hat. Now everyone in town would know that two Magehounds were working with the guards by the end of day. Speculation would run wild. Trying to appear more casual than he felt, Memphis stood. The chair behind him scraped as Anujak followed suit. They had been planning to hit the pavement immediately after eating, so they had already brought their equipment down. Memphis slung his rifle case over his shoulder and stayed silent as the three of them left the hotel.
He let the guardsman lead the way, chewing over possibilities in his mind. Anujak, helpfully was always willing to pick up a conversation.
“So,” his partner said brightly, jogging ahead to catch up with the guardsman. “What’s your name?”
“Jakkor,” the man said.
“Well, Jakkor, thanks for coming to get us. I know shepherding outsiders around probably isn’t what you signed up for when you joined the guards.”
“My duty is to whatever the Captain commands,” Jakkor said stoutly. “And anything that keeps us from having another incident like the one last night is something I will do gladly.”
“You were there last night?”
“I handled organizing the cleanup effort,” he said. “And informing the next of kin.”
Well, that explained Jakkor’s fervor. The steady pulse of guilt that had followed Memphis for the past few weeks grew stronger. It was his fault those men and all the infirmary workers were dead. Had he caught Jeriko earlier, none of those families would be missing their loved ones. There were no words he could say to make things better, and he was too jaded to offer Jakkor any promises about finishing this quickly – no matter how badly he wanted to. The truth was, there would most definitely be more bloodshed before this was finished.
By the time they reached their destination, the sun had just barely begun to burn an orange haze into the dawn cloud cover. Jakkor turned the corner and ushered tehm onto a quiet, residential street where a pair of guardsmen were blocking off a section. Onlookers stood all around them, peering around a hastily built blockade that did nothing to hide what appeared to be a vertical crater in the side of a building. Broken bricks and mortar dust were scattered all around the area. On the walk directly in front of that, the cobble had been charred black.
At the far end of the damage, Lily stood next to an elderly Ku’uda man who kept pointing to the mess and shaking his head. Even from that distance, the set of the captain’s shoulders said she was in a foul mood.
“I’m telling ya, that’s all I saw,” the Ku’uda man was saying as they approached the scene. “I looked out of my window this morning and there was a great big hole in the building. I don’t know what else to tell you!”
“And I am telling you,” Lily returned through gritted teeth. “That what you’ve said does not add up. You live on the ground floor and you say you did not hear the damage when it happened. That’s impossible.”
The old man pointed a blue-green finger up to his finlike ear. “Hearing is one of the first things to go in old age,” he argued. “And I have always been a heavy sleeper.”
Memphis’ instincts were tripped. The answer had come just a hair too quickly, and no matter how soundly someone slept, the force that it would have taken to damage the adjoining building would have been catastrophic. Lily was no fool, she knew the man was holding back information. “Sir, are you aware that everything you’ve told me is legally binding in an adjudicatory court?”
The old man drew up to his full hight – just about to Lily’s chin. But his voice was cold and solid when he spoke. “Be careful threatenin’ me, girl,” he warned. “Shiny badge or not. I will not have anybody calling me a liar. I don’t even know why I’m bein’ questioned,” he protested. “I ain’t even call for you grubs.”
“We are questioning everyone on the block,” Lily gritted. “But no one claimns to have seen anything.”
“Well then, I guess there was nothin’ to see,” he shot back on a narrowed glare. “Can I go now?”
The captian looked ready to shake the old man and Memphis guessed she held back by only a hair. “Fine, get out of my face.”
The old man went back inside with a curse and a huff, leaving the Magehounds alone with the guards.
“That old man knows more than he’s letting on,” Memphis said.
Lily’s brows cut deeper. “Obviously.” She turned to Jakkor. “Good work, Lieutenant.”
Jakkor gave a sharp salute before offering the captain a sympathetic wince. “I take it the civilian interviews are going well.”
“We’re being stonewalled,” Lily told them. Thirty tenants on this block and no one saw or heard anything.”
Anujak whistled. “That kind of cohesion is rare.”
“Osso has a very…potent opinion about the guard,” Jakkor said. “They don’t trust us.”
Over the course of his career, Memphis had traveled to more strange towns than he could be bothered to remember. In every one, there was always some tension between the civilian population and the law enforcement. It was just the way of things; keeping your distance from the folks who could throw you in stocks was basic self-preservation. But the hostility he read from the Ku’uda man, coupled with the defeated tone in Jakkor’s voice meant things here in Osso were almost singular in Memphis’ experience. “Any particular reason for the bad blood?”
Lily sighed, kicking at a piece of rubble. “Every Captain of the Guard since Osso’s founding has been in the pocket of one councilperson or another. This city was built by criminals, and the guard was not immune to corruption. Any semblance of trust between the city and the guards has been torched.”
“The people here got used to handling things on their own,” Jakkor said. “Rebuilding that trust takes time, and Lily’s only been captain for eight months now. They don’t believe she’s genuine.”
Memphis sighed. “And are you? I don’t care either way, but if your reputation in town is shit, it will be that much harder for us to do our job.”
Lily’s face twisted. “Safety should not be a luxry for the few who can afford it,” she spat. “I want to help my city, but I cannot do that if they do not talk to me.”
“So why are we here?”
Lily walked to the center of the crater and lifted something from the stone. It was burnt so black that Memphis had a hard time recognizing it at first. But the more he stared, he could make out fingers, bony and smelling faintly of rot. “Ghoul.”
The captain nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Someone encountered an undead last night.”
Anujak nodded to the mess. “Looks like they came out on top. You think this person can tell us more about what happened?”
“I do,” Lily said. “But I can’t say for sure until someone here can tell me what they saw last night.”
Memphis cocked his head, confused. She sounded like she had a strong idea of who had done the damage. He said as much and the captain only scowled harder. “There is only one man I can think of that is capable of this type of damage,” Lily said through her back teeth.
“If you know who it is, why haven’t you gone to ask them directly?”
It was Jakkor who supplied the answer. The Lieutenant gave his Captain a pitying look and sighed, “Because if she’s wrong, and accuses Syd Tejin without any proof, it will make our already tense situation with the Scarecrow Mercenaries will deteriorate even further.”
“But you’re just asking questions. Why would that cause problems?”
“Our relationship with the Scarecrow Mercenary Company is a bit contentious,” Jakkor explained. We’ve had a lot of incidents with them since the captain took office. Not all of which we were in the right about. The folks in this town barely trust us to solve a break in; harassing a community institution is not going to win us any favors.”
“Demanding that Wylma and her pack of hoodlums stay out of our business is not harassment,” Lily argued.
“No, but it will be if you go in there to throw accusations around when you’ve got no proof.”
The captain growled in exasperation, pointing back to the blast. “Who else in this ice-crusted city can conjure a lightning strike on a cloudless night? That is all the proof I need.” She took a sharp breath in through the nose and pinned her glare on Memphis. “Besides, I will not be the one doing the asking. If the Magehounds go to the guild to inquire about a strange occurrence they heard of from guests at the hotel, it would be right within their purview to investigate. Seeing as they are here hunting a strange mage, that would not be harassment at all.”
“That’s thin, Captain,” Jakkor said. “Wylma will see right through them.”
“I don’t care if that old hag sees through it or not,” Lily bit out. “The point is, she will not be able to do anything about it. The Magehounds are here on official business anyway. It stands to reason that they would investigate any entities in the city that could hold intelligence pertaining to their task here. What recourse could she possibly have?”
Judging by the look on Jakkor’s face, Wylma could have plenty of recourse.
“And if this Wylma takes offence to us, we’ll just be bumbling strangers who don’t know any better, is that the line of thinking?” Anujak did not even have the wherewithal to pretend to sound offended, Memphis realized with a touch of horror. His partner turned to face him, grinning. “This could work.”
“Don’t sound so excited, we’re being tossed to the wolves here,” Memphis admonished, lighting a new cigarette. “That said, I’ve suffered enough indignities on this job, adding scapegoat to the list won’t be a problem. But we’ll need directions. And one more thing.”
“Out with it,” the captain said.
“Anujak found some interesting information about the underground ruins in this town. We would like to explore them, but we need a guide.”
Lily nodded. “A fair exchange,” she decided. “Come back to the central guardhouse after you’re finished with the Scarecrows. You tell us what you discovered, and I will escort you underground myself.”
XXX
Knowing that the dead were rising and shuffling around the city made for shit sleep. Both Syd and his monster wanted to prowl the streets, hunting until he found the threat and eliminated it. The only thing that held him back was remembering Eko, her putrid wound, and the certainty in her voice when she told him if it went untreated, she would have become a ghoul herself.
Syd wasn’t afraid to die, but turning into the undead was a different story. It had taken years – and a lot of bloody, messy fuckups – for Syd to learn how to balance his monster. These days, staying in command of himself was easy, but he still remembered vividly what those early years had been like. The times where he hadn’t even bothered to try controlling his monster, when he had been a loose and wild thing, and the scores of people that died over it. Without the old lady, Syd might still have been that way, and what would the body count have been then?
But Wylma was not the same Force she used to be. If Syd and his monster turned, could she manage to subdue them? He wasn’t sure. The risk was too great for him to go out alone, and so Syd stayed inside. But he only just barely managed it. It did not sit well, and felt too close to cowering for either Syd or his monster to be happy about it. But they held fast, thinking up plans in the dark.
So, when the sun filtered through the dusty windows of his flat the next morning, Syd was already wide awake and halfway through sharpening every weapon he owned. Not that it was strictly necessary, He’d been raised as a blacksmith’s son, so Syd kept meticulous care of his collection of weapons anyway. His father had been dead and buried going on forty years now, but it didn’t matter. Every time Syd saw an ill-kept blade – even something so small as a kitchen knife – he would hear his father suck his teeth and say ‘Now would you look at that? It’s a damn shame and a waste’. The repetitive action gave his wired body somewhere to place his energy, and he could let his mind wander while he set to work.
When the sun came, Syd rose from his kitchen table and finally got ready to leave. He pulled on the nearest set of clothes that weren’t immediately in need of a wash. Usually, if Syd was just going to be at the guildhall, he opted for basic canvas trousers and a long shirt. Today though, he had a feeling he was going to be putting in work, so on top of those, Syd shrugged on his vest.
Once upon a time, when he had been serving as a Vanguard Captain, he’d worn it every day. Made of meticulously treated wyvern leather, lined with silkmail, it was his first line of defense. The vest kept his most important parts from getting pierced while on the front lines but was still light and flexible enough to allow for unrestricted movement that suited Syd’s fighting style. The right breast sported a set of ensorcelled patches meant to enhance the garment’s durability.
And because he wasn’t stupid, Syd grabbed his coat as well. He had been born east of here, on the Flint Islands. There, the winters were all hurricanes and sea spray. It got cold, but the bone-deep freeze of Tolko was something Syd doubted he would ever get used to. For this, he needed to be at his best, and that did not include fighting off frostbite.
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Properly armored, he headed out.
The run-down little rowhouse he rented served mainly as a place for Syd to sleep and store his weapons. He’d picked the place because it was cheap and had the advantage of being only a few blocks down the street from the guildhall. However, the normally short walk seemed to stretch on as the sheer weight of the shitpile they were in truly settled on Syd’s shoulders.
Last night’s crowd had thinned so that the only people in the main hall were folks who had been too drunk to find their bunks and passed out where they lay, and a few early risers looking for fresh jobs. Syd did not even break his stride. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. There were only two rooms on this level, and both of them belonged to the Old Lady. The door on the left led to her office while the door on the right was the entrance to her apartments.
Syd stepped through the office door – and found that somebody had already beaten him there.
Wylma was in her usual spot, lounging behind her heavy ebony wood desk, absurdly large mug of coffee in hand. In the two worn out armchairs before her, sat a pair of strangers. The left one was a lanky, tired looking human in a crumpled cotton shirt and worn-out suspenders. His hair had been shoved roughly out of his face with a scrap of bandana and a rifle case rested against his boots. On the other side was a larger man, younger, and more heavily muscled, sporting a pair of jade ear spools and a friendly smile. Syd’s sensitive nose picked up the scent of something feline coming from his direction. A shifter then.
Wylma met Syd’s eye smiled. It deepened the lines in her warm tan face, making her seem almost grandmotherly. Nobody knew how old she really was. Her braided hair had gone white ages ago, but she still moved with the confidence of a warrior in her prime when she chose to. There was a running pot going with the purse going to whoever got the closest – the most popular guess was four hundred. She looked like a well preserved seventy. Then again, Syd was eighty-seven and looked thirty – the age he had been when he had been changed.
“Syd,” she said, sounding almost gleeful. Nobody in the Scarecrows responded to things appropriately, but he’d learned when the Old Lady was happy, it usually meant some kind of trouble was brewing. Now, the question was whether this was new trouble, or not. “I was just about to send someone to fetch you. These fine young men are Magehounds.”
Syd went on alert, giving the men another once-over. Magehounds were hunters, tasked with the management of wayward magic users on the continent. So far as Syd knew, in Osso, there was only one mage of note.
“Fix your face, Syd,” Wylma chuckled. “This isn’t about our surly friend.”
Had Wylma not spoken, Syd would not have noticed that something about his expression had shifted the mood. The Magehounds had gone tense, the tired one leaning towards his gun. Syd took a deep breath and dropped his scowl, but that didn’t seem to help. It never seemed to help.
People had been calling him scary even before that Naga had clawed his face and left it scarred. When he was younger, he thought that smiling would make him seem nicer, but he found it just sent people scrambling away from him even faster. He knew better now. That kind of reaction used to bother him, and if Syd was being honest with himself, it still did. But enough time had passed that the sharp ache that responded to the fear he saw in strangers had dulled to an itch.
Our witch never flinches, his monster grumbled. If Eko had any problems with his appearance, the black-eyed mage had never let on. Syd was scarred from head to toe and judging by the way she’d stared when he was shirtless last night, she didn’t mind at all.
Not ours, he reminded that voice, before cutting his attention back to the room. “What is it about then?”
The tired looking Magehound stood up and stepped forward. To his credit, the hunter only stared at his scars for half a second. “Syd, was it? I am Memphis Bass, and this is my partner, Anujak. We’re here investigating an escaped fugitive and we’ve got some questions for you regarding your involvement in an incident that occurred last night.”
Instantly, Syd relaxed. They were here about the person raising dead bodies around town, not Eko. That made more sense. He needed to get his shit together. Syd grinned. “You mean the ghoul I killed?”
Memphis paused. No doubt he had expected Syd to be cagier. But murder in self-defense was permissible in Osso and since Syd wasn’t a mage, these men had no hold over him. So, Syd saw no reason to beat around the bush.
“It was a ghoul, are you sure?”
“Emaciated, rotting, hungry for flesh?”
The questions came rapid-fire. “Did you see where it came from? Did it say anything? Was it alone?”
“No. No. Yes,” Syd said lightly. “Now I have a couple questions for you. You know the mage who’s responsible for raising the dead, yes?”
Memphis nodded.
“What does he look like?”
The Magehound’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”
“A ghoul tried to eat me last night, I am going to kill him.”
Memphis scowled. “Listen, I understand you’re upset and want to take action, but this is an official hunt of the Magehounds. I’ve heard of the Scarecrows; you all are messy. You all do good work but our necromage is dangerous and desperate. There is no telling what he will do to avoid capture. This is a hunt that requires delicacy and precision. The last thing we need is an outside party spooking our quarry and making him run again. I’m asking you to leave this to the professionals.”
Syd propped himself against the doorframe. At the Magehound’s dismissive tone, his monster bristled. Who was this newcomer, to tell them what they could and could not do in their own territory? Syd reminded his monster that these men were new to Osso. They didn’t know him. Plus, Memphis wasn’t wrong about the Scarecrows’ reputation. They got the job done, but delicate they were not. None of that mattered in the end though, a fact Memphis would have to be taught.
“Look man,” Syd said. “I get you’ve got a job to do. But all due respect, this stopped being solely your business when your man came to my city. Ghouls are loose, meaning normal people are in danger. So, either you can share information, or I go out to find it on my own. Only thing that will do is waste time. I’ll be in these streets either way.”
Memphis glanced back at Wylma. She sipped her coffee at him.
The Magehound clenched his teeth around his cigarette. Syd simply kept leaning and waited for the man to make up his mind. After a silent few seconds, Mempis cursed and produced a sketch from his pocket. “Here.”
Syd did not know what he expected, but the man in the drawing seemed decidedly, normal. He didn’t look like a crazy necromage. He seemed average. Shaved head, brown skin, brown eyes. A human, worn looking face stamped with middle age.
“The man’s name is Jeriko Sheby,” the Magehound said. “He escaped the Mausoleum Prison two months ago and has been wreaking havoc ever since. For some reason, he’s holed up in Osso.” Memphis eyed him carefully before folding the picture up again. “I will stress again. That this man is highly dangerous and not to be taken lightly. He has turned over two hundred ghouls that we know of and has escaped capture on numerous occasions.”
Syd shrugged. “Is that all?”
The Magehound scowled. Syd grinned. Memphis wasn’t nearly as prickly as Eko, but he was almost as fun to rankle. “If you see him,” he said. “Send word. Our order would prefer to have Jeriko taken in alive to answer for his actions.”
“Can’t make you any promises on that front,” Syd told him honestly. “But I’ll try.”
“We’re staying at the Eight Cat’s Hotel, you can send your messenger there.” Memphis turned to leave.”
“Like I said, boss, no promises.”
He stepped aside from the door and let the two Magehounds exit. Syd waited until he heard their boots hit the bottom landing before he collapsed in one of the freed-up chairs with a tired groan.
“Cheer up, boy,” Wylma said brightly. “Think of it, ghouls in Osso! We haven’t had this kind of excitement in the city in far too long.”
“I thought peace was supposed to be a good thing?”
“Of course, peace is best,” Wylma said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t squeeze some joy out of the chaos while it hangs around.”
The old lady’s enthusiasm was infectious. And in spite of himself, Syd was getting excited. He hadn’t had a proper hunt in a good long while. Unfortunately, they had a major obstacle. “There’s no way two out of town hunters got my name and whereabouts from town gossip,” he said. “Nobody was on the street when I killed that ghoul, and the buildings were dark. This has Lily’s mark all over it.”
The old lady’s grin never wavered except for the faintest tightening around her eyes. Over the last few months , Osso’s shiny new captain of the guard had gone full steam ahead on needling the Scarecrow’s operations. It was her job after all, but the Captain was young and loud and Wylma did not take kindly to someone marching all over what she viewed as her territory.
Apparently, the Scarecrows had been around long before Osso’s council went legitimate. The folks in town and beyond knew that. And so, it was the Scarecrows that most of them went to when they had problems, which rankled the hell out of the city guard. Wylma and the old guard captain had a certain understanding of each other. But Hekktor had retired last year, moved south to spend his twilight years with his grandchildren in the sun. His Lieutenant had succeeded him, and Lily wasn’t nearly as flexible as her old boss. Things were bound to come to a head sooner rather than later. Lily was growing bolder and the old lady more impatient. The only thing that had kept the kettle from boiling over that was after several corrupt captains, the guard had all but lost the people’s trust. Recruits were scarce, meaning that Lily didn’t have half the manpower she needed to manage Osso’s safety effectively. That also meant, that Lily couldn’t fight them as hard as she wanted when the Scarecrows stepped in. Wylma wasn’t one to overstep. The Scarecrows did not go looking into guard business. However, if the people wanted to bring their troubles to the guild’s door, it had always been the Scarecrows’ policy to help as best they could.
It would be kicking an already buzzing hornet’s nest, but this new ghoul situation was not something the Scarecrows could let play out without their interference. No matter how hard Lily would try to fight them on it.
Wylma leaned back in her overstuffed office chair. “Well, Vicemaster, do we have a plan of attack?”
“Find the necromage, kill the necromage,” Syd replied.
“That seems incredibly simple,” Wylma said wryly.
“I like to keep my plans simple,” Syd said. “Leaves room for improvising. Besides, I figure it can’t be too hard to find one mage raising the dead in this city. Especially if they’re sloppy enough to be letting ghouls get loose.”
Wylma nodded. “Your mage would be very useful here.”
“Eko was with me when the ghoul attacked last night,” Syd admitted. “She was the one who suspected something more was happening. I would be surprised if she hasn’t started sniffing around on her own already.” He’d seen the look on Eko’s face last night. A terribly familiar look of hunger had saturated her features when she’d voiced the idea that the ghoul had been made.
“Then it sounds like you’ve got some catching up to do. But I wonder, why didn’t you suggest working together with the magehounds?”
For a moment, Syd considered it. Then he shook his head. Fact was, the Magehounds were too close to the guard. They might have a mutual enemy at the moment, but that was where their similarities ended. Syd would be more effective if he could operate as he saw fit, rather than try to worm his way around whatever chains of command Lily would try to impress on him. He told her as much.
Wylma smiled. “There’s that tactician’s mind you try to hide. Go on then, and happy hunting.”
XXX
One of Eko’s most prized possessions while she had been at Jadcro was a little silver timekeeper. It had been about the size of a snuffbox, with delicate etchings of a forest scene all over the face of the metal. Every morning at precisely seven tolls, the clever little device would chime sweetly to wake her. She had blown half of a month’s pay stipend on it.
Who needed such things when you had demanding little cousins?
A chubby hand squished her cheek to her teeth. “Eko, wake up.”
The mage groaned as she shook of the last fog of sleep. Her shoulder felt like someone had shoved hot sandpaper beneath her skin. She peeled open a leaden eyelid to find Mica, all done up in her school uniform and wearing a frantic expression. Bright sunlight filtered through the leaded window. Half buried beneath a pile of papers at her desk, a little clock that did not sing read eight tolls. “Shit.”
“Da says it’s bad to swear,” the six-year-old informed her, poking her cheek again. “Get up. We’re going to be late.”
At the little girl’s insistence, Eko sat up and shed her blankets.
She lifted a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes and swore as her pitch-black fingers and sharpened nails came into focus. She had not bothered to put her human-seeming back on. To be fair, Eko rarely did when she was home since her whole family already knew about her condition. She had been this way since she was eleven, after all. It wasn’t even all that strange looking, their world was one filled with all manners of Folk, whose forms and shapes ran the gauntlet of average to truly strange.
Showing it to Syd last night had not been a part of the plan.
The events of last night rose to her mind in splinters. After leaving Syd’s place through shadow step, Eko had grand plans to start researching and shore up the house wards. In the end, she had only possessed enough energy to strip out of her bloody clothes and fall into bed. Sleep had pulled her under immediately, a result of bodily trauma and the rapid expansion of her magic. However, before she could sort out the consequences of yesterday, she had to get the kids to school.
Long ago, the entire continent of Roa used to sit under the same banner. One of the edicts during that time was that all children were to attend foundational school from the ages of six to fourteen. After the Crown Conflict, they became separate countries, but the tradition of schooling held on. It wasn’t as hard of a requirement as it used to be, but most children still attended the full seven years. After that, they either found an apprenticeship somewhere or left the mountains to continue their education at one of the big academies outside Tolko.
A year ago, it would have been her Auntie’s job to get the kids out to school. Every morning, Laika had made sure there was hot breakfast on the table; hominy, eggs, and fish usually. She would have had their uniforms starched and pressed and waiting for them. But she had died suddenly a year ago, crushed by a runaway cart. This left the rest of the family to pick up the pieces. The school term did not stop for grief.
Auntie Laika was a tough act to follow. So much in fact, that it felt disrespectful and almost pointless to attempt it. The Sulio family muddled through her absence as best they could and made it work a different way. Eko’s father was obligated to attend council meetings in the early morning. Her mother, uncle, and brother were gone even earlier to make sure the teashop was up and running on time. That made Eko the only adult available to make sure the little ones were fed and made it to school unbothered.
Eko did not bother with ironing, and she couldn’t make hominy as well as her auntie had, but most days, she managed the kids without making an entire mess of things.
Most days.
Eko hurried through washing her face and finding fresh clothes to pull on. Last up was her human seeming. Honestly, if this form wasn’t so obscenely good at channeling wild magic, she wouldn’t even bother with her human seeming. But wild magic was incredibly dangerous to have swirling around in public. It was unpredictable and not always benign. Her particular flavor of magic was tinged in shadow, losing control of that could be disastrous. Here at home, the effects were muted. Wild magic was never predictable, but its ebbs and flows carved patterns in familiar spaces. For the safety and comfort of everyone, Eko tried to keep it under wraps while she was out of the house.
Eko faced herself in the mirror. The bags under her eyes seemed heavier today, but Syd’s tonic had done its job well. A pale set of scars were all that was left of her wound from the night before. Stepping back into her human skin always felt like she was trying to shove too many clothes into a carpetbag that was a size too small. It left her feeling stiff and slow. Constricted, as if her bones were too tight. Her skin felt overly sensitive, and even the added weight of her clothes felt restrictive.
By the time Eko pulled on a pair of clean stockings, Mica was practically vibrating.
Eko gave Mica an assessing look. The little girl’s hair had been separated into zagging braids that clung close to her skull and tied up into a pair of buns crowning the top of her head. The braids were getting a little fuzzy, but Eko figured they probably had a good couple of days left before they lost all structural integrity. Besides, she doubted Mica was patient enough to have her hair redone this morning. This was the little girl’s first year, and she took her attendance incredibly seriously. Her brother, Mayr was in his third year. For him, the shine had been thoroughly worn off.
He was waiting for them at the kitchen table, nose in a book as usual, his thick circular spectacles sliding perilously down his nose. “You slept in,” he informed her.
The disappointment in his tone was hard to miss. Eko quirked a brow, trying and failing to hide a grin. “And you weren’t going to say anything at all, were you?”
Completely unrepentant, her cousin shrugged. “If you sleep in, there’s nobody to take us to school. If I don’t have to go to school, I can finish my book.” He blinked, eyes brightening. “Did you know basilisks can have up to eight eggs at a time? And the babies can petrify things the minute they hatch?”
“No, I didn’t,” Eko told him as she moved to help Mica with her coat. “I’ll be sure to stay away from basilisk nests then. Wouldn’t want to get turned to stone by a baby.”
Mayer frowned. “They don’t live in Tolko,” he informed her, as if the native ranges of basilisks were something everyone should know. “It gets too cold for them here. There are a bunch in Sumer though. Have you ever been to Sumer, cousin?”
Why did children’s clothes have so many buttons? “Hold still,” she said, considering the question. “Yeah,” she said. “When I worked for Jadcrö, I went to visit the mage’s guild there.”
Because the Island nation of Sumer was so isolated, they only had a single arcane institution. The Tozaquil Mage’s Guild had been palatial, every hall polished to a mirror shine, dripping with gold trim and jewel tones meant to intimidate with sheer opulence. She’d been sent with a few other mages to quote ‘assess the situation’. In other words, dig up any secret projects that the rival guild might have been hiding. To stifle or steal had been up to her discretion.
“Did you see a basilisk?”
Eko nodded. “They had one in their menagerie.”
Their mission had not gone well. The mages of Tozaquil had been wary. Eko and her co-conspirators had barely stepped into the campus grounds before they had been rounded up and thrown to the basilisks as bait. It had been a terrifying sight. Twice as tall as a human, with a bulky, fleshy body, and stubby toadlike legs. Iridescent black scales covered its massive form. Its wide mouth was filled with flat, blunt teeth. Two of the four mages Eko had been sent with had been petrified before they could scream. She had barely escaped with her life, and there was an open call for her head should she enter Tozaquil territory again. But none of that was appropriate to tell a ten-year old.
“That’s enough about basilisks,” she said, finally releasing Mica. “Let’s go.”
Mayer heaved a very put-upon sigh and closed his book, tucking the tome safely beneath his armpit.
Mica’s chubby hand tugged hers. “Come on!”
The morning was bright and cold as Eko and the kids made their way up the street. Their house sat in the middle of the block, nestled deep in one of the more crowded neighborhoods near Osso’s northeast border.
It was funny, how very little had changed between today and Eko’s own time getting walked to school. The kids’ cobalt buttoned uniform shirts and black trousers were the exact same ones Eko had donned a lifetime ago. As they walked, there were still the old men sitting outside, lounging in the cold autumn sun like grizzled tomcats. As Eko and the kids passed, they looked up from trading gossip and called out cheery ‘Good mornings’ in Obsihichee. Eko and the kids called back in kind, and something in her chest warmed at the comfort in using the language of her childhood.
Obsihichee was her father’s tounge, the language of the people who lived in the northwest region of Tolko. The neighborhood the Sulio home sat in was made of mostly Obsihichee residents, folks who had abandoned the more traditional rural life and were trying to make their fortune in the city. At home, Eko spoke a mix of Kravansai, and Obsihichee. The language of the land was Karvansai, a holdover from when the entire continent sat under one empire. It was the language of commerce and daily life. Before she moved south for Academy, Eko thought she spoke it fairly well. Her new classmates had disabused her of that notion. She had been teased mercilessly for her northern accent. After she had taught them to fear her, the teasing had stopped, but the damage had already been done. There had been constant whispers about Eko as the uncultured hinterlander, barely civilized enough for proper spell craft. Eko had fallen incredibly high from her perch, but she was grateful for Osso. Here, her accent was everyone’s and she could speak Obsihichee, the language she dreamed in, without reproach.
They kept walking, Eko half listening and pretending to be excited as Mica chattered on about the newest subject her class was learning. She oohed and aahed at the right times, every so often checking that Mayr had not wandered up the street on accident. He had recently taught himself to read and walk at the same time and was now liable to wander off a bridge or into a wall if his current book was interesting enough. He reminded Eko of how she used to be at his age. Obsessively engrossed in any spell book she could get her hands on, to the point where working out the practice arrays took priority over sleep and food. Quietly, Eko hoped that her little cousin’s interests led to a happier future than hers had turned out to be.
There were still a couple of stragglers making their way into the school building as they approached the gate. Eko led the kids past the thinning line of parents crowded near the front. There were quite a few faces she recognized, folks she had been in class with who were now grown and shepherding their own children to school. More than once these days, she would catch one of her old schoolmates whispering each other as she approached. They never invited her to come over and talk, and Eko would be lying if she said the rejection didn’t sting just a bit. She had been an odd little kid, but friendly with others. It seemed that her time away had created a chasm between herself and the people who had grown up beside her that no one was quite sure how to handle. The fact that she did contract work for sell swords and smugglers probably didn’t help her reputation.
Like she did every day, Eko ignored them. The balding, craggy faced headmaster smiled warmly at her cousins as the kids made their way inside. Eko’s task was finished, Uncle Kesso would swing by when school let out and they would spend the evening in the teashop until it was time to close.
Her walk back to the house saw Eko chewing over the events of last night. Ghouls in Osso. Every shadowed alley she passed, Eko eyed with wary suspicion. Like she had told Syd, ghouls were not an easy thing to make. The techniques were strictly forbidden by the guilds and the Accords. Any texts with that knowledge were kept under strict lock and key or had been summarily destroyed.
But knowledge was a difficult thing to kill and Eko knew better than most, that while mages made up the majority of magic practitioners on Roa, they were not the only ones versed in the language of magic.
She thought back to that stack of missing people Syd had been worrying over. That was too convenient to be a coincidence, but Eko did not heave nearly enough information to go on. The day stretched before her, a web of possible actions taking shape in her mind. She thought about that red brick schoolhouse, her cousins and all the other little kids that were worrying about their letters and struggling over their times-two’s right this moment. An image came to mind of Mica’s carefully pressed uniform shredded and bloodied.
Eko did not have enough information, so she would find it.
But first, she would make sure her family was safe.