Felun
Their approach to Glister was uninterrupted by wayward Behemoths or skyspawn, though Yichen swore up and down that he spotted the shape of a wyvern in the distance. Felun was far too busy recovering from his ordeal to pay much attention to his overanxious commentary. The spellcaster’s headache had leveled off, but was infuriatingly slow to ease entirely. He took to draping a wet cloth over his forehead as he sat uselessly on deck for the sake of the breeze. Occasionally, he brought the Magician cloak with him and struggled to sew the rip in it closed. It was slow going.
“So this is where you’ve been disappearing to?” a familiar voice asked.
Felun cracked an eye open. Ishaan hadn’t fully reassembled his scrap contraption, presumably saving his magic for when they had real journeying to do. He had, however, repurposed the wheeled base of Yawen’s medicine cart to better make his way around the ship. Felun still felt a stab of guilt at his prosthetics having gone up in flames.
“Hello,” he said uneasily. “I—yes, did you need help with something?” He made to rise, but Ishaan waved him down.
“No, no. I wanted to ask how you were holding up.”
“Oh, you know.” He gestured miserably. “Not any worse than the morning after a big delve.”
“Hmm.” Ishaan reached over and poked the damp hand towel laid across his head. Felun startled at the buzz of magic that washed across the water and froze it cold and solid. “There, that should help. I’d tell you to drink a restorative potion, but—hah.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He’d tried to scribe a cooling rune for himself earlier, and Yichen had glared murderously at him. “Still can’t do any spellwork. Physician’s orders.”
Ishaan chuckled at his impatience. “It’s annoying, I know. You’re always so careful with your magic. I don’t think I ever saw you run out. Or maybe I’m just irresponsible.”
“You scared the hell out of Tyirn when you built us that river-bridge,” Felun said, and immediately regretted saying it.
But Ishaan only grinned mildly. “Oh yes, my greatest achievement. A bunch of different crews tried to poach me for themselves afterward. All offering coin this and bonus that, but you three were all—” His smile faded. “You were all decent to me. I can’t regret staying, despite…”
Felun looked away. “I’m sorry.”
Ishaan was silent for a long while. Then he said, “were they buried the usual way, or…?”
In Ironport, the bodies of dead dungeonrunners were plentiful enough to be put on pyres. Their ashes were mixed into communal pits. Felun had never visited any, but he knew it was common for various crews to get roaring drunk over one in remembrance.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I paid for a small plot and markers. Vilette never told me her family name, though, so it just has that written on it…they’re in the Kin Gardens, if you’re ever up that way again.”
“That was kind of you.” Ishaan’s voice was quiet, but Felun could hardly stand the sincerity in it.
“I—It was the least I could do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know them as well as you did.”
“Does it matter? They liked you. We were a good team.”
“Yes,” he said heavily. “We were.”
They watched the sands below for a little while. Felun fidgeted with his needle and cloak, almost stabbing himself in the finger trying to get another stitch through the heavy fabric. Ishaan eyed his attempts with trepidation, and maybe a bit of pity for good measure. When he broke the silence, Felun suspected it was half an attempt to divert him away from his sorry repairwork.
“I haven’t thanked you for all this,” Ishaan started falteringly. “I wish…I mean, I can hope to find a job chilling the drinks of some rich lord, but I’m sorry I don’t have anything to repay you with. Well, I can take a look at anything clockwork you need fixed, but you already knew that.”
Felun startled, then shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I’ll buy you some new legs in Glister.”
“It’s alright. I think I prefer my trusty steed down there,” Ishaan grinned. “Not to sound like an ungrateful shit, but the ones your family made for me weren’t always the most comfortable. At least with the spider, it doesn’t feel like pretending to copy the rest of you with something that can’t keep up the same way.”
“Oh,” he said, digesting the words. “Well, I’m glad. Erm. But—a spider? I thought it was meant to be a crab.”
“I’m a shaper, not an artist,” Ishaan replied.
“Still,” Felun said. “I’ll get you some energy crystals or something, for when yours runs out.”
Ishaan hesitated. “You’ve already helped me a lot. I…should be able to fend for myself.”
Felun scrubbed a hand through his hair and rearranged the icy towel. “I want to help. Are you going back to your family, now?”
Ishaan sighed. “Suppose so. It was tough getting steady work back home, but I’ve learned a lot being away…maybe one of the tinkerer shops can take me on as an assistant.” He sounded uneasy though, and he was glancing at his missing hand as he spoke. “What about you? Thought it about it some more?”
Yichen’s words lingered in his head.
“I don’t know,” Felun said. It felt like tired phrase in his mouth, and he was growing more and more used to thinking and saying it. Dungeonrunning had seemed like such a certain future once—he had been so painfully sure of himself back when he was making plans to run away. Now he’d sprinted to freedom for the second time, and he was more lost than he’d ever been.
He turned back to the Magician cloak, wedging the needle through once more and wresting the thread taut. The rip closed by another half-centimeter.
===
Yichen grew more and more agitated the closer they got to the city. He was outright pacing by the time the spires became visible on the horizon.
“What’s wrong?” Felun asked at last. “You’re wearing a line into the floor.”
“I’ve been wondering where I’m supposed to land the ship.” Yichen fiddled with the levers, though for what purpose Felun couldn’t guess at. He’d already slowed the ship’s pace down to a crawl the day before, as if to prolong their inevitable arrival. “You realise I was never formally taught to pilot, right? There are codes and signals for anchoring this sort of thing. It’ll be worse in a big place like Glister. We should ditch down soon and walk the rest of the way.”
“Well yes,” Felun said, feeling put out. “I didn’t expect you to steer us into the docks.”
“We’d probably get impounded for trying,” Ishaan added. “Did I tell you about the time the leader of my first ever crew got done for pirating a ship? They do check papers…” He leaned across the pilot’s deck to peer out the window, then turned to address Yichen. “Are you aiming for that little cluster of oases?”
“I’ll set us down a little way behind,” Yichen said fretfully. “We won’t want to land on top, not if they’re what I think they are.”
Yichen banked the ship around, circling over the spot in two low passes before setting them down with a hard bump. Felun’s teeth clacked together at the impact, but he didn’t sense any of the ship’s enchantments breaking.
“Not too bad, huh?” Yichen said brightly.
Felun noted his white-knuckle grip on the steering levers and just nodded.
They gave their packs on last check-over as Ishaan assembled the shell of his construct once more. Felun braced himself for a disapproving remark from Yichen’s vicinity as he hefted the crossbow he’d picked out along with its accompanying sling of bolts, but Yichen was silent on the matter. Yichen also allowed him to cast inattention runes over the ship before they exited, locking the doors and warding them. Given what he’d heard and seen in the city proper, Felun wouldn’t be terribly surprised if the ship were robbed or stolen in a day or two, but he didn’t argue against trying. Finally, Ishaan finished shaping two barrelfuls’ worth of water to his liking and clambered atop his icy armature with pack and sword.
They stepped out and came face to face with the shattered skeleton of some long-dead Behemoth, a multitude of sun-whitened splinters sinking slowly into the sands. The bones cast long, ominous shadows. A fringe of greenery had sprung up about the place: pointed fronds and unfamiliar tendrils that swayed in the low breeze. Picking their way past the Behemoth’s resting place, they marched across a long expanse of beige nothing until they found the beginnings of a hard-packed dirt road.
They walked. The spires came closer with agonising slowness. Felun was reminded, unhappily, of the dimensional tower. The sun rose steadily overhead, until they were all sweating through their clothes.
Yichen’s expression had gone closed-off and quiet. It was eerily reminiscent of the look on fresh runner’s faces after their first proper dives. Felun had run that gauntlet and watched plenty of others follow, back in Ironport. There was always that same pang of dismay which came with realisation: the way forward would likely not be as simple or easy as one would’ve liked to believe. Ishaan seemed to be holding up well, though. He took advantage of his steed’s height and wielded Felun’s spyglass with evident satisfaction, pausing in his scanning to report far-off skyships, crowds gathered at Glister’s gates, and the occasional humorously-shaped cloud.
They passed another two smaller Behemoth carcasses—two of surprisingly many, pockmarking the scenery like landmarks. Felun eyed the huge slabs of bone and wished he could stick a float rune to one and use it like a miniature cloudclipper. He might’ve even tried, were it not for the fact that his runebook was burnt to a depressing degree, every page gone still and dormant. He’d checked it over once again when they stopped in the shade of the second skeleton for a light meal and a long drink, and felt a strange stab of vulnerability at not having his collection of sigils at hand.
Eventually, the vague road beneath their feet became more defined and marked with stone columns at intervals, before it merged into a much wider thoroughfare. A crowd began to form: people in caravans, on top of goat-drawn carts, and even riding the occasional oversized lizard or many-legged chimera. A few people stared and pointed at Ishaan’s spider-crab steed, but it mustn’t have been too unusual a sight, because they returned their attentions to the road soon enough.
As they passed through a pair of Glister gates and spilled into one of many market squares, Yichen led them to a prominent set of flagpoles. Both Felun and Yichen had wracked their memories for any hint of where passing Sungrazers might stay, and had narrowed the possibilities down to a handful of inns and districts.
“You’re going with him now, I guess?” Ishaan asked, as Yichen negotiated with the guides.
“I suppose. You’re welcome to come along too, you know?”
Ishaan grimaced. “I believe you when you say your aunt and uncle are decent people, but, uh…”
“…They’re still Sungrazers,” Felun finished for him. “No, I get it. We could wait at an inn while Yichen goes looking. Just because—well, your steed looks fancy. It might make you a target. Not that I don’t think you can deal with a pickpocket yourself. It’s just, I don’t want to leave you stranded until you find passage heading to your country.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Yichen was happy to leave them both in the care of a reasonably-priced inn, especially when the guide had told him it’d be double the cost to bring Felun along, and two times again if she needed to accommodate Ishaan’s spider-crab.
“Are you going out to get your book fixed?” Ishaan asked curiously. He’d crouched his steed down to make use of the dining bench. The innkeeper must see all sorts at his establishment, because he hadn’t so much as batted an eye.
Felun hesitated. “Shouldn’t we get some crystals for you first?”
They’d raided Yawen’s cabinets for coins and jade and whatever portable objects they guessed held value enough to be worth carrying. Felun’s share amounted to a respectable portion, but in his experience, the services of enchanters didn’t come cheap.
“They won’t run out like you think,” Ishaan said. “It’s more that I have to channel my own magic to use the damn thing, and there’s not much you can do about that. Besides, you always used your book a lot. That’s more important. I’ll make sure no one breaks into our rooms while you’re out looking, yeah? And I wouldn’t mind having more of these potatoes.” He hummed appreciatively.
Felun’s hand crept to the mouth of his satchel as he considered the runebook’s sorry state. True, it’d be easier acquiring money with the full use of his skills. If even half of what was left in there was salvageable, he’d be satisfied. The float runes alone were worth much, and it was a special kind of dismay to see them sleeping on the pages, charred and unreachable.
“Alright,” he said. “I should be finished by evening, but let Yichen know if he gets back before me.”
He hired the cheapest guide he could find, who led him all through Teok Heights and its unsatisfactory selection of unspecialised enchanters before depositing him at the doorstep of a bookbinder. Blacklock Bindery, said the establishment’s elaborate sign, though its calligraphic flourishes were undercut by singe-marks around the door.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, shouldering past a sullen young man loitering at the entrance. A bell jingled as he opened the door.
He might not have bothered going in were it not for the growing sense of defeat from a slew of enchanters pursing their lips at the book and waving him away on sight. A frisson of Breaker awareness made him pause past the threshold. When he took a moment to take a glimpse with his spell-sight, the place was absolutely bristling with wards. The sheer quantity of them struck him as suspicious, even alarming—until he reflected that they were in Glister, not Shenzhou, and it was a sign of a talented mage as any.
The shopfront displayed many books in glass-covered cases, without the glittering adornments common to all the enchanter’s shops he’d seen; for a moment, Felun fell back on his doubt at the use of coming here. But a large, bearded man behind the counter was waving him over and booming a greeting. He cringed inwardly. Having been spotted, it would be too awkward to change his mind.
“Hello. Do you do repairs?” he asked, bringing the book out of his satchel.
The man peered down at it, nodding. “Certainly, we do—you’ll want to wait and speak with Mage Blacklock, though.” He nodded to the side of the shop, where a bald man was conversing with a pointy-hatted witch. “He’s the expert. I patch up air ducts, mainly.”
“Quite honestly, I have no idea,” Blacklock was saying. He inclined a hand at the nearest display case. “But I notice you were admiring the poisoner’s apocrypha? It’s an antique binding, with silk ribbon and sewn headbands. The price is fifty crowns.”
“I’m not interested in antiques,” the witch said.
“If you have more modern tastes, I do custom work on a per-basis fee.”
The witch gave a feeble smile, followed by a noncommittal sound. “Perhaps another time. If you recall any pertinent information about the incident—”
“We can handle the occasional hooligan ourselves, thank you,” Blacklock said coolly. “If that will be all, I must attend to my other customers.”
“You know where to find us,” the witch said, tipping the brim of her hat before striding out the door.
Blacklock cleared his throat and brushed off his hands as he made his way behind the counter. “Now what have we got here?” He adjusted his spectacles, frowning at the runebook. “Stars above, what have you dragged in from the wars? May I examine it?”
“Yes,” Felun said warily.
Blacklock wiped his hands on a handkerchief before picking the book up and leafing through the pages. “Mage’s work…a compendium of rare runes? It doesn’t seem to be an old volume, however…where did you come across such an object, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I made it,” Felun said reluctantly.
“You’re a fellow craftsman, then?” Blacklock said as he inspected the inner covers. “Or an academic?”
“Erm, neither. Used to work as a Breaker, for dungeonrunning…” He shrugged, hoping this line of questioning would be brushed over and soon done with.
The bookbinder’s gaze suddenly sharpened, but he put the book back down gently. “An impressive work, then. If you’d like the book restored to full functionality, it will take a few days. And we will have to discuss pricing…”
Mage Blacklock’s pricing seemed reasonable for the amount of work involved, even if there was an uneasy attentiveness to his manner since Felun had mentioned being a Breaker. He was pretty sure there weren’t extensive taboos about Breaking among any human cultures as there was among faeries, but maybe Blacklock was among those who found the resultant blisters of Breaker work frightening or repulsive. Still, he had the grace to not make remarks or stare at Felun’s bandages. Felun paid readily and listed the runes he’d like reanimated in order of priority, before leaving the shop feeling like a surprising amount of weight had been taken off his shoulders. With the book restored, he’d probably able to pick up some work in Glister, even if the demand was few and far between. It was a relief to not feel as helpless as when he’d first stumbled off a boat and into the perils of Sihai.
As he made his way down the street, the nape of his neck prickled with a strange unease. It was odd in such a crowded and boisterous place, not even shadowed by evening, but he hadn’t acquired working instincts for nothing. The dungeons had taught him that his brain could get more information from a glimpse out the corner of his eye than most assumed.
He paused with his back against the side of a shopfront and glanced over the approaching crowd. His gaze honed in on a greyish cloak. The young man loitering earlier, his memory supplied. Perhaps it was coincidence…but he’d turned two corners since leaving the bindery, and he was aware that his looks were distinctive enough in this part of the world.
Perhaps it was one of his father’s people, his paranoia suggested, but it was the unlikeliest possibility. The news wouldn’t have outflown them, and the man wasn’t Cathayan besides. Iolite, then? No, she wouldn’t be so subtle, and he hadn’t recognised any schismatists among the faeries flitting around. He suspected they were all preoccupied with potion brewing and magic-stealing right now. If Iolite realised he was here and wanted him back, she’d only need to ask Saiph to deliver her message, probably with an arrow nocked at him. Which wasn’t a problem anymore, really—not when he could kill any faery at will.
The man was most likely an opportunistic thief, he concluded. Shenzhou wasn’t without its criminals, but in Glister they seemed to be everywhere. It was a harsher existence, on this continent. Yichen’s suggestion to stay in Cathay nagged at him as he waited for his follower to pass him and veer off into the crowd. He took a circuitous route back to the inn, just in case.
===
Yichen returned later that evening, looking vaguely murderous.
“Yuying’s run off,” he said without preamble. “No thanks to you.”
Felun started, looking up from his dinner. “What?”
“She disappeared a day after their boat landed. Left a note, at least.” Here, he paused meaningfully. “Shirin and Jiahao are getting in a state about it. Why did you think sending her off to a city full of witches would be a good idea? Do you not remember how idiotic we were at that age?”
Felun put down his spoon. “I didn’t—look, did she mention which coven she was planning on joining? I think a witch guild exists; we could find it and ask.”
“No, she didn’t specify much of anything. I expect she left without any real plan.” Behind the acid in his voice, there was real worry.
The sky was dark through the window. Felun was aware that cities were markedly more dangerous at night, even with a hired guide—which meant it’d be even worse for an inexperienced mage like Yuying. He pushed away his half-eaten meal, slung his satchel over his shoulder, headed out the door—and came face to face with the woman who’d called herself Carnation.
“Hello,” Carnation-more-likely-known-as-Kion said, locking eyes with him. “I’ve heard you—”
Felun shielded and leapt backward, straight into Yichen. They both fell over with a crash and several curses; several patrons turned to stare at the commotion. Felun rolled free and was back up on his feet, knees bent to spring and runequill springing to hand.
“Whoa, easy,” Kion said, taking a step back herself. Her hands were folded in front of her, but his spell-sight told him she had several spell-slips, twin daggers, and a pistol concealed under her coat. “I don’t want any trouble. In fact, I think we could be a great help to each other.”
Yichen had found his footing and was now staring at her too. The innkeeper had walked out from behind the counter, one meaty hand very casually grasping a rolling pin.
“Now listen here,” the innkeeper said. Felun glimpsed wards roiling to life in the walls. “I don’t care to involve myself in anyone’s personal matters. But there’s to be no fighting in my establishment, understand?” He seemed to be largely addressing Felun and Yichen over Kion.
Kion didn’t seem perturbed by the attention. If anything, her tone grew even more prim and self-assured. “Perfectly understood, good sir. Gentlemen, I only wanted to have an honest conversation.”
Felun looked over to Yichen, who was casting him a look of puzzlement and alarm. Kion stood where she was, blocking their exit. Felun quickly thought his options over. Kion knew where they were staying. It would be a bad idea to run off now, leaving her opportunity to find out which rooms they’d bought and sneak in. Worse, the innkeeper might tell her that Ishaan had come with them, and he might soon find himself the target of her questions. But Felun wasn’t going to agree to follow her out into the night, either—that seemed like it’d be a quick way to get stabbed.
“Come join us, then,” he challenged, stepping aside. “We were just having dinner.”
“I was hoping to ask my questions in a more private venue,” she said, glancing around the room. “I would extend an invitation—”
“No thank you,” Felun said.
“Well, if you insist.”
The look that Yichen shot him was even more startled than before, but he kept quiet as Kion followed them to their dining bench. He seemed to infer that being among a handful of patrons and under the eye of the innkeeper was safer than not.
“I see you’ve lost your schismatist friends,” Kion began.
“Yes,” Felun replied curtly. “I don’t want any trouble and I don’t see how that has anything to do with you, Kion—if that’s even your real name.”
“It’s Kionah,” she said wryly. “Or ‘Miss Sadrava’, if you don’t wish to be so familiar. Pleased to meet you, though I’ll point out that you were the one who jumped out of thin air to attack me and companion. Disguised as a Magician, no less.”
“What is she talking about?” Yichen murmured to him in Cathayan.
Felun ignored him for the time being. Yichen was now aware of his contracts and obligations, but not of the specifics. “That wasn’t my decision, and I’d rather not do it again.”
Her look turned contemplative. “Yes, I did guess as much. You could’ve done an awful lot worse when we met in the Academy, for one thing.”
“Why are you here?” he asked impatiently.
“I have a proposal for you,” Kionah said. “Seeing as you’re a real Breaker. There’s good money in it for you, if you agree.”
“Agree to what?” he asked suspiciously. “Does it have something to do with my former—the schismatists?”
“Ah, former,” Kionah said, tracing a finger over a whorl on the table. “I am glad to hear that. It would be awkward to find out you were genuinely hell bent on wreaking havoc on the city like the rest of them. As a matter of fact, yes. Is that an insurmountable problem for you?”
He said nothing, hoping his silence would draw out more details. She seemed to sense a different tack was needed.
“Look, I have much more reason to worry about you than you of me. I won’t pry into your reasons for leaving your former employers if you wouldn’t like that, but if acting in opposition to them requires a hazard payment, I am more than happy to pay it.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Fifty crowns a week won’t tempt you? And I’ve got a hundred set aside as a sign-on bonus, so to speak.”
“I don’t need your money,” he lied. A nice lump sum wouldn’t be worth much if he got killed in the getting of it.
“Everyone needs money,” Kionah said. “I’ll even pay you for mere information about your former employers, though the going rate for that is much less, you understand, due to its unverifiable nature. Not something I usually offer, but—well, forgive me for speaking honestly, but you look like someone who might have a grudge.” She paused, grinning, and her tone deepened viciously into an almost-growl. “Don’t you want to fuck ‘em over? Here’s your chance.”
Felun scowled. It was certainly tempting to spout a few guesses, pocket some coins, and make a run for it. But Ishaan would need time in the city to seek passage and the idea of indirectly dragging him into this mess was intolerable—not to mention the problem of locating the suddenly disappeared Yuying. Kionah seemed like the sort of person to have other friends at her back, and he was stuck here for a while yet.
“I really can’t overstate how much I’d like your help,” Kionah continued. “You’re looking at me like I’m going to shoot you and reclaim my coin right afterward, but you’ve got a nice big influential Cathayan family, right? Do feel free to hand over your wages to them for safekeeping out of the city or some such plan; I don’t mind. We’re quite the ragtag operation, nowhere in your clan’s weight class. You’ve got nothing to fear from me, I can promise you that.”
“I don’t trust this girl,” Yichen said, in Cathayan.
Felun ignored him, still thinking of Yuying and Ishaan. A hundred Glisterian crowns wasn’t an immediately life-changing amount of coin, but it could be very, very useful for smoothing the way. He’d be lucky to make that amount in two month’s worth of dedicated dungeonrunning, back in Ironport. And Iolite hadn’t paid him at all.
“Explain it to me,” he said, folding his arms.
“Haoyu,” Yichen interrupted. “You’re not seriously considering this.”
He held up a hand. “This will help us find Yuying,” he replied in Cathayan. “It’ll help you both, once you return to Cathay. How much do you have to your name back home?”
“Plenty enough,” Yichen said.
Felun scowled. “No, how much do you really have? It’s all stored in proxy vaults, isn’t it? You saw the spell mother tried to use on me. Do you really believe you’re immune? That with me gone, they won’t turn their attentions onto you or Yuying—or, yes, I suppose even Guofan—and that you won’t need to fend for yourselves?”
“I don’t—” Yichen said.
“Yes, yes,” Felun said, shaking his head. “I know. You keep your head down and you’re not stupid like me, only because you’ve never had to run against their desires. What happens when father forces Yuying to marry some courtier she hates? You can hope you’ll never need some emergency stash they don’t know about, but better to have it than not. You know what it’s like at court.”
Yichen set his jaw. “This is hardly worth risking yourself for.”
“Really? I recall you saying something about how I didn’t care for you all,” he couldn’t help sniping.
“I will not exchange my own brother for vague promises of betterment,” Yichen said sharply.
“If’s a good thing you’re not the one doing the exchanging then,” Felun said sourly, and a strange, tired resolve settled into his bones. “It’s my choice to make, and I’m making it. It might be good for me to do something useful, for once.”
Yichen regarded him with something like fear on his face. “Don’t blindly agree. I can’t stop you, but don’t throw yourself into the fire out of this sudden sense of duty you’ve conjured for yourself.”
“Duty? Maybe a little bit. Mostly practicality. Maybe even a little revenge. How exciting.” He smiled tightly to himself and turned back to Kionah. “Sorry, that was rude of us. Tell me what you’d like broken.”