A black squirrel scampered through the dankest pipes beneath Steamtown, down the oldest shafts, around the tightest corners, and squeezed through the narrowest of tubes. It made its way with unrelenting persistence, a direct path with a singular destination in mind. The Deepwells, the High Cistern, and Black Gold Waterfall. The squirrel traversed each section of the pipe structure with perfect knowledge of its shortest routes and safest detours.
After an hour of zigging and zagging through the least accessible pipes in the system, the rodent skittered out of a tight vent and perched on a dusty valve. In a wide, eerily quiet sanctuary, the Core towered a thousand feet to a faintly glowing dome ceiling. Hundreds of bulky pipes surrounded a white pod massive enough to house a whole town.
Boiler No. 2, the Fire Hammer.
In a flash of faint light, the squirrel disappeared, and Micah stood perched over the valve, looking up at the tower. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, letting the silence wash over him. Not a shred of life or movement existed in this space. A layer of thick dust coated everything, disturbed only by several sets of his own footprints from visits past. It was the rare silence so deep, a person could hear it. A buzzing in one’s own ears as they searched for relief from the oblivion.
I never tire of seeing this place. What a marvelous sight it must have been in the days of Crimson.
He stepped forward, the soft footfalls a disturbing interruption to his ears. At the base of the tower, a staircase began a winding ascent in and throughout the piping, supported by stone stanchions and branching off to dozens of other cases. Micah climbed the familiar path patiently, taking the necessary turns of a route he long ago memorized, until he found himself before a gap in the pipe walls about halfway up. The small path was more like a sequestered crevice, imperceptible to anyone not looking for it. He squeezed through and plunged into the deeper darkness until he reached a lamp stand beside a door.
The rusted entrance had many small dents and blemishes. A simple impression of three stars was etched into the surface of the metal. Micah knocked three times and waited.
“I don’t know why you bother to knock,” a muffled answer came from behind the door. “You’re the only one who knows I’m here. And can I do anything but admit entrance?”
Micah opened the door, the thick metal slab swinging open with a riotous screech. Inside, a man sat in a chair in the middle of a small room, or at least what could be called a room, but was actually a square space surrounded by tightly enclosed piping. The chair was simple wood, and no other furnishing or adornments filled the place except a solitary lamp above his head. Seven thick books, each a different solid color, floated before him in an arc at chest level.
“I apologize, Biblio,” Micah replied, standing before him. “But I was taught manners before many things, and I don’t forget what I have been taught.”
The one called Biblio smiled wanly. He sat upright, rigidly so, with his hands on his knees. He wore dark red and black robes, and a tall, square hat with a sloped crest. Skin of a sickly pallor drooped down his face, revealing his very old age, but his eyes seemed younger than a babe’s, filled with a piercing fire. Two rune tattoos decorated one of his cheeks, and a metal rod no thicker than a crystal quill stuck out of the left side of his neck.
“And what have you brought to trade today, young Champlain?”
“Twelve bits.”
“Twelve?” He seemed amused. “You’ve been busy.”
Micah nodded. “Saving them for a rainy day, you could say.”
The old man rubbed his neck, as if it itched. He fingered the metallic object piercing his skin. “You could always remove this irritable seal. Then I would willingly give you all the information you desire.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
He scowled. “Very well. Let us begin the negotiations.”
Micah stepped forward into the light. “I want to know everything about the Moon Eyes.”
“You refer to the Moon Eye Child?”
Micah frowned. “How do you know about her?”
Biblio smiled a sinister grin but didn’t answer, and Micah frowned deeper. Here we go again. He mentally organized the twelve pieces of information he had gathered for this meeting, from least significant to most.
He began: “There is a flower that only grows in the northeastern tip of Basin Laforge, called Whisperstar. The plant is cultivated in a single glen and protected by priests of a cult originating from the area. The flower, yellow in color with exactly ten petals, emits pollen so pungent, a single blossom could fill a cathedral with its scent. It’s so strong, in fact, that the senses of smell and taste of anyone who stands in the glen would be overwhelmed and permanently destroyed.”
Biblio’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously fake.”
“I never lie. However, for this bit, I have proof. But if you want it, you will answer both my questions.”
The man sitting in the chair seemed to wrestle with his own thoughts. Micah waited patiently. This was the game they played. Biblio gathered information. It was his only purpose in life. And he possessed so much knowledge, it was probable he knew anything one wished to discover. But he did not release the information easily. He demanded new information in return for anything he gave away, no matter how trivial the answer might be. A simple question of: “How do you know about the Moon Eyes?” would never be answered without something in return. But because he possessed the knowledge of a thousand men, finding information he did not have was hard work. Usually, it was worth it.
Biblio sighed in frustration, but his eyes lit with passionate fervor. “Very well. I will answer your questions. Show me this flower!”
Micah reached to a pocket in his jacket and pulled out a small square of glass. Between two plates was a pressed yellow flower with exactly ten petals. The petals were long and thin, like a dandelion, but square-tipped. Micah extended his hand and parted the plates for just a moment before clapping them back together. However, an overpowering citrus scent filled the small room, making their eyes water.
“Marvelous,” Biblio said, wiping his eyes. He spread out his hand to one of the books floating before him. The red tome drifted to him, turning to open on its own. Blank pages turned with a rapid flush before stopping three-quarters of the way in. Once there, ink began to appear on the page, guided by an invisible pen and forming a detailed picture of the flower in perfect color. Delicate script in black ink covered the page around the illustration, writing down all Micah had told him and everything Biblio observed on his own. Once finished, the ink faded and the book closed, returning to its spot in the arch around him.
Micah put the Whisperstar away. “First, how do you know about Charlotte Goodsteel?”
He paused, surprise filling his gaze. “I don’t know anything about this Charlotte person you speak of, but fitting the pieces together, she must be the Moon Eye Child.”
“That’s correct. She possesses the Moon Eyes, of which I came here for information. But for you to call her by that name means it isn’t just a title – you couldn’t have possibly known about her. There’s something more to the term, isn’t there?”
“Correct. This is certainly a revelation. The birth of the Moon Eye Child was foretold well over a thousand years ago.”
“Foretold?” Micah was skeptical. “Are you saying she’s some sort of divinely appointed hero or something?”
“No!” Biblio flashed an angry expression. He hated having words put into his mouth.
“Forgive me,” Micah said, bowing slightly. “Continue.”
He settled himself down. “The Moon Eye Child’s purpose is to bring about the end of the Age of Angels. Or so Kyba of Canis claims…” (Micah held his tongue from asking who Kyba was.) “He has been waiting for this child to be born his entire long life – a thousand years he’s lived and waited for her. How intriguing that we should live to see such a prophesy take place. This is a very good day indeed. She truly possesses all seven eyes?”
Micah nodded, once again fighting all urge to ask about this man who has supposedly lived a thousand years. “You have answered my question about the Moon Eye Child. Now, for my second request: I need to know what the eyes do.”
“How many have been discovered already?”
Micah counted the known phases off to him. “The ones we don’t know about are Waning Gibbous and Waning Crescent. Charlotte has activated Waning Gibbous, but she says nothing happens.”
Biblio nodded. “The Sealed Eye of Orion. To my great misfortune, it is the one eye I know nothing about. Kyba of Canis himself would be a good source, but he keeps his whereabouts in the Mosaics hidden. However, there is a man in the city of Castor in District Five who might be able to tell you. His name is John Halifax. He enjoys a close relationship with Kyba of Canis. I knew him long ago, but he would not share his knowledge with me. A truly selfish, horrible man. However, if he knew the Moon Eyes is in your possession, he might be willing to share what he knows. And he might be able to help you escape the country as well.”
It was Micah’s turn to be angry. “You’re the last in a long line of people to talk about Charlotte as if she were some kind of object. I don’t possess anything. She is my companion, and her eyes are her own.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
He blinked in surprise. “I meant no offense, but surely you can see what this means? Many of this girl’s powers were thought to be extinct, especially Heartbreaker, a truly devastating Inherent Magic. If a man with… shall we say, ambition, were to claim them, the consequences would be far-reaching. I assume you are a fugitive for this very reason. You are keeping the power of her eyes from being possessed by someone else. Am I not right?”
“Indeed. We fully comprehend the situation, which is why I’m here.”
“I can tell you about Waning Crescent, the Sealed Eye of Taurus. But I doubt it would do you much good. It has historically been the hardest ability to activate and the only one of the seven phases to have never graduated to a Level Two. No one currently possesses the ability besides this companion of yours. It isn’t surprising she hasn’t activated the eye. She probably never will.”
“It’s ability?”
“It’s called Restoration. Do you want to know the story behind it?”
“Yes.”
Biblio extended his hand, smiling greedily again. “In exchange for what?”
Micah folded his arms. “Considering you can’t give me information about Waning Gibbous, I believe you are still in my debt.”
He tsked, bringing his hand back. “Very well. This is a story of which I believe I am now the only keeper.”
The green book before Biblio floated front and center, opening to another blank page. Great lengths of text appeared in ink, black as the day it was written. “The legend of Taurus the Bullheaded. Among the mightiest of Ursa’s sons, Taurus’s place in history is one set in stone. But as a child, he struggled and was regarded as the weakest. His eldest brother Orion, on the other hand, was the strongest, and it was on him that Taurus set his many ambitions. To one day surpass him and gain favor from their mother.
“But he began life with a great disadvantage. Taurus was the only child of Ursa’s that had not developed an ocular ability. As one could imagine, this was particularly shameful to him, but he never gave up. In fact, it proved to be the very reason that he became the legendary Avalon we know of today.
“In order to compete with his siblings, he worked twice as hard. Studying obscure texts, reading at all hours of the night, training his body physically and mentally to the point of exhaustion. Each and every day. By the time he became a full-fledged wizard, he was the strongest of the seven and the most accomplished in his studies. But despite so many efforts, Orion still always seemed to outdo him when it mattered most. They became rivals, and it went on like this for years. Taurus pushed himself to surpass his brother.
“One day, as Orion and Taurus trained in the woods far from Avalon City, the notorious demon Mahro found them and attacked. Mahro, of course, had a blood vengeance against Ursa, which is common history. The demon expected a swift kill, but the two brothers stunned him with their hidden abilities. Working together, they fought the demon using power Mahro never expected, and after a fierce battle, he was forced to flee, but not before mortally wounding Orion. It would have surely been a great victory for the demon in his never-ending quest to destroy Ursa and the Avalon.”
Biblio cleared his throat, and the page slowly turned on its own. Micah found himself peeved by the pause.
Finally, he continued. “Orion should have died, and Taurus was confronted with his opportunity to become the strongest of Ursa’s children. But as much as he envied Orion, Taurus loved his brother even more. And in that dire, desperate moment, Taurus unwittingly opened his dormant Sealed Eye. In a matter of moments, Orion miraculously recovered, as if there had never been a battle at all. Taurus fell unconscious as a result, the new power too much for him to handle. Once he recovered, however, he realized what he had done. He possessed his own Inherent Magic after all, and it was of a nature incomparable to the other six.”
Biblio laid a hand on the floating book, eyes blank as he must have imagined the scene of the story he told. “The Sealed Eye of Taurus. Restoration. Able to return what once was. With his power, after much training and discipline, Taurus could rebuild destroyed castles, heal the sick and wounded, even revert the ill-effects of age. The only thing it couldn’t restore was life itself, but Orion hadn’t died before Taurus discovered his magic. And this leads us to what we now know: that Taurus indeed was as powerful as legend claims. His children and grandchildren grew so strong because of this inherited power, the Taurus clan dominated Avalon for two centuries.”
Micah stood several moments in silence as the full weight of what Biblio said dawned on him. He could only mutter, “Insane.”
“Well said. It would seem that in light of one woman possessing all seven of these abilities at once, it is appropriate that a sage as old as Kyba of Canis would believe her to be the one to bring about the end of this so-called Age of Angels, don’t you think? You may want to keep a close eye on this Charlotte Goodsteel.” He gave a wry smile. “For all our sakes.”
“Indubitably.”
Biblio’s eyes narrowed in wonder. “You are different than the boy who usually comes here. I know it to be you, but… something is definitely awry.”
Micah smiled at the opportunity. “Indeed I am. In a profound way. But if you want to know about it, you’ll have to trade me another piece of information I desire.”
The man in the chair snorted. “Personality changes are of no value to me.”
Micah bowed a bit so their eyes were level. “Even if that change could only have been made to a man under deep magical contract, and only by a particular magic even stronger?”
His natural frown deepened. “And what information would you want in return?”
Micah smirked, and he knew Biblio could see the impression of it behind his mask. “I want the Olenheim Seals.”
Biblio’s jaw dropped. He began to sweat, uncertainty filling his eyes. “How do you know about those?”
“You’re not the only man who treasures information. I will make you a deal. Tell me about all three seals, and I will give you the eleven remaining bits I have in exchange. I guarantee they’re better than the one I’ve already given you.”
It was a trade Biblio wouldn’t be able to resist. Even so, he squirmed in his chair. A desperate struggle tugged his gaze in all directions. Finally, he cleared his throat, grim-faced but resolved.
“I don’t think I like the new Micah sinChamplain.”
.
Returning to the inn, Micah found Charlotte was no longer at the bar. He approached Salt, still standing where he had left him. Before Micah could say anything, a raucous peel of laughter filled the room as the front door opened and a large group entered. Surrounded by half a dozen men holding stacks of boxes, a clean and prim Charlotte strolled in and reclaimed her spot on the stool, wearing a new green dress with white frills. She was in the middle of telling a story, and the men crowded around her, listening to every word with enchanted smiles.
“…and that’s when I came to the startling revelation dogs could never be street performers,” she finished.
The men exploded with laughter. They fetched her another glass of wine, stacked her boxes in neat piles beside her, and essentially waited on her hand and foot.
Micah turned to Salt in anger. “You let her leave?”
The inn-keep held up his hand defensively, tapping the side of his head. Micah turned back and noticed the black flower tucked behind Charlotte’s ear. He calmed when he realized what it was.
“Sorry, Mic. She had the mind to go, no turning from it. So I gave her the Dark Blight and left it at that. The lackeys aren’t a bad bunch, blind to charm for certain, but not bad.”
“That wouldn’t mean much to Kalem, but thank you. You are certainly right. She would have gone no matter what you said to her.”
“Dinner, then? The tank ought to be empty, I imagine.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m going to clean up. Shouldn’t take me twenty minutes.”
Salt grinned with amusement. “Should I be sending her packages up with you, then?”
Micah sighed, but didn’t bother to reply. In the past week, he had become increasingly adept at recognizing sarcasm. After a refreshing shower in his small room and a change of clothes, he came back down to the smell of chicken and peas over a bed of fried rice. Salt brought him a hefty bowl, and Micah ate in the corner, waiting between each bite to make sure no one was watching so he could pull his mask down.
A different person from earlier now sat at the piano – a woman. Wearing a sparkling black dress, she played a piece to match her more grandiose appearance. A flowing aria with light, fluttery notes that whisked through the room on tip toes. The pleasant sounds lulled Micah into a sense of security he rarely experienced, something never before provided to him by music.
He also enjoyed the savory tastes of Salt’s food far more than he ever had. Ever since he had met Charlotte, taste found new meaning with him. Flavor wasn’t a passing whim any longer, but an experience he relished more and more. The ginger and soy of the chicken, the butter and salt of the rice, the sweet of the peas – they exploded with every bite. It was a thrill of small yet maximum proportions.
As he ate, he watched Charlotte. Her attentions had been turned to one man. The others seemed to catch the hint as one by one they waved the white flag and retreated. He was young with a chiseled jaw and slick black hair rolling over his head in multiple waves. He wore a fine suit, complete with a silk cummerbund. Two gold rings decorated his right hand. By far, he was the most suitable to Charlotte’s epicurean tastes. He listened to her with rapt attention as she prattled away, and her eyes sparkled with an excited anticipation as they drew closer and more comfortable.
Micah hoped she wasn’t talking about anything that might put them in danger, but he left it to her common sense. Still, he wondered what they talked about. After about an hour, the piano quieted and the bar closed, leaving only a few stragglers. Charlotte and the young man stood and walked arm and arm to the door. A mixed look of hope and disappointment filled her expression, and the hope seemed to slowly abandon her as he kissed her hand and left the Salt.
For several moments she stood at the door, her lips creating peculiar motions as they often did when her mind churned with unwanted ideas. She noticed Micah, who stood. She folded her hands in front of her, approaching to look up at him and then back down at her shoes several times.
“I’m sorry if you were waiting for me.”
“I wasn’t waiting, but I was watching,” he said. “As long as we’re in Steamtown, watchfulness is the best recommendation.”
She winced, looking aside. “You must think little of me by now.”
Sincerity became her, and a sort of reservation took over. It was the Charlotte that Micah had come to know. But she hadn’t been as such in front of the men who had crowded around her, and he wondered why she acted different around them.
“Actually, I was fascinated. Your charm is a natural talent. I found myself wishing I had the same gift.”
Her pleasant smile returned, swift as a bird to flight. “I bought new clothes.” She twirled in place. “What do you think?”
He shook his head in mock-disapproval. “Still so hindering. How do you move in those things?”
She harrumphed. “It’s beautiful. You couldn’t convince me otherwise. Oh, I also got something for you!” She scampered back to the far corner of the lobby where a single package of hers remained. The others had been taken to her room. She brought the white box and offered it to him.
He blinked. “For me?”
“Yes. Open it.”
He lifted the lid and pulled back layers of paper. A long bunch of fluffy white fabric lay inside, smooth to the touch even through the cotton of his gloves.
“A scarf?” he said.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” She took it out and wrapped it around his neck. “I thought it would add a nice touch to all the black.” She gently trailed her hands down his chest, smoothing the ends. Stepping back, she admired the new look.
He touched it, feeling its warm embrace around his neck. It faintly smelled like her. Any mental arguments as to why a Black Son could never wear a white article of clothing quickly faded into obscurity.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to wear it,” he said softly.
She laughed, clapping her hands. Then, suddenly, she yawned. Taking his arm, she led him into the hall and up a short set of stairs.
“You said you bought all those packages?” Micah said.
“Of course. I’m not penniless you know. And while I adore receiving tokens from men, I don’t let them buy me things. I make my own way.”
“The way they were looking at you, I figured they would have bought you anything you wanted.”
She looked crestfallen when he said this, but she said nothing. Rooms 213 and 214 were set beside each other all the way at the end of the narrow hall. They unlocked and opened their doors, but before Micah could step inside his room, Charlotte grabbed his sleeve.
He looked at her expectantly. She opened her mouth several times, but no words issued forth and uncertainty filled her face. Finally, she sighed.
“You’ll be patient with me, won’t you, Micah?” she whispered.
He nodded, wondering what she meant. But she only smiled and said goodnight before stepping inside her room and closing the door.