There was safety in the Whilaway basements he came to learn. He wasn't happy to hear that Wormwood was upstairs but he was gone, no longer a part of their lives as he took whoring to new heights and debauchery to new lows.
He was encouraged to eat his fill and he did, filling out his belly until it finally stopped growling at him.
There was also a bath in the basements for those times when Whilaway hadn't wanted to leave his studies and Clarke soaked in it until he was wrinkly and pink, hot water conjured through something Whilaway had bought off of a dwarf, a device called a water conditioner. He was sure it was likely the only one in the world, or at least within hundreds of miles. The thing about dwarves and their miraculous inventions was that not every dwarf managed to build what he saw in his head and if one did he or she wasn't going to share the blueprints with anyone else so inventions tended to come and go, sometimes decades before resurfacing.
It was the second best invention after the pen.
He topped that with the sleep of the dead, entombed in a bed of almost magical quality that carried him off into realms of comfort he did not know existed.
There was no way to know when he awoke the next day as the basement had no windows. Wizards frowned upon windows since they were one of the snoops tools, a way to read carefully crafted spells over their shoulder and have their work stolen.
A lit candle helped him to write down the events of the previous day and he left his room, a sudden smell guiding him through the sparsely lit hallways to a small kitchen and Twinty cooking. His ears perked at Clarkes entrance but he kept his eyes on the stove.
“It's funny that for a man who loved elves so much the best stuff is dwarven made.”
Clarke sidled up beside him and looked at the ingredients, picking out eggs and cracking them into a spare bowl.
“Dwarves make great devices when they work. All the wood furniture is elf made even though ratling carpentry is superior. Elves just have better branding.”
Clarke checked the shelves above the stove and the counter and couldn't find a single spice or even a salt shaker.
“Lousy sense of cooking though.”
“On the table.”
He pointed at a bag of spices and potions on the table and Clarke picked out some honey. As it began to heat up it filled the air with a gently sweet aroma.
“So I'm fed now and rested. What are we going to do about leaving? We don't know when the elves will be after mom.”
“They know she's safe so it may not be as quickly as you think.”
Gwen came into the kitchen, mouth wide open to yawn, scratching her stomach.
The simultaneous and flat “what” from the cooks startled her.
“I left a message at the gates for Alouella telling her that Aggatha was safely in my custody and she didn't have to stress about it.”
“How could you-”
“Why would you even think that's remotely okay-”
They yelled, trying to talk over one another. She slammed her hands down on the top so hard the sound shut them both up.
“Look, I didn't say where we were even though she probably knows. I only wanted to give her peace of mind. She has so much going on right now that she needs a little good news. She's still our friend.”
Clarke spit his next words like the foulest thing he'd ever tasted.
“She's not my friend. Not after she defended what her father was doing.”
“Clarke, I swear to god, I will discipline you if you don't stop acting like a child. Her father did a rotten thing. We both know Alouella isn't impulsive and she wants the facts before making a decision so you can't throw her out just for not agreeing with you right away. And your mom did kill her dad and I will remind her next time I see her that you didn't do anything to cause that so the both of you suddenly being enemies is stupid. Do you understand?”
“But-”
“Do you understand what I just said?”
“But-”
“Clarke!”
Now Twinty had yelled at him and he whirled on everyone ganging up on him.
“What?!”
“Your eggs are burning.”
He furiously scraped them around the pot, a little brown but not exactly inedible and plated them. He could feel Gwen looking at him, forcing the issue through his mind. He clikced his teeth together and finally muttered for her to hear.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Oh, breakfast! You're all such early risers.”
Aggatha came in, a bunch of blank papers under her arm that she dropped on the table, the pile rolling away. She waved her hand over Gwen and a ghostly, ethereal book rose from her, pages turning with every rotation of his mother's hand. Clarke stared as she took a few notes, Gwen none the wiser.
Stolen novel; please report.
Clarke set the plate of honeyed eggs down in front of her and looked over her shoulder. Each page was filled with pictures and diagrams, the floor plan of a building.
“What in the world is this?”
He whispered as she flipped the page to a whole new floor plan. Gwen turned around to look through the pages, all of it backwards to her. Aggatha finished making the notes.
“You've really never seen this before? I used to do it accidentally all the time.”
He remembered a moment back when they were collecting items from the metal houses.
“I think...once, but if it requires touching people then that's probably why. Does it have something to do with our abilities?”
“Very much so. I know you found out a little from your time in Whaler's Wharf but there was a lot Ratleby didn't know. Aside from rewriting the story of the world, we can also read it as well. Every person, place, object, anything can be read.”
“Sounds invasive.”
He said. Aggatha halted mid page, a sad look pulling her down.
“It is. They had me do it a lot back when they had me in captivity.”
She tried to brighten, shaking her head and looking up.
“So get permission when you can. You don't want to learn something you can't unlearn.”
She sat at her eggs and proceeded to eat while Clarke stared at the back of Gwen's head and then casually looked over at Twinty who caught his prying eye.
“You stay away from me, boy.”
“Gwen, do you mind if I-”
“Yeah, I guess. But don't look up anything embarrassing.”
He held his hands out over her head.
Let's see...mom just did this so I'm guessing it's a mental command or I have to ask something specific. Show me recent thoughts about Alouella?
They flashed into existence, two glowing, ethereal pages side by side. He took note that his mind wasn't flooded with the voices he usually heard when he did these things which was the best sign.
What was written were pages of sweet, caring and sometimes lustful thoughts on the elf.
Alright, show me...thoughts on coffee.
The list seemed to go on and on, mostly yearnings for coffee and wishing she had the beans for any of the machines she'd built for Aggatha.
Show me that machine.
Schematics came up about it, pages and pages on how to build and maintain the device as though she had some sort of manual for the device transcribed inside her. The memory of the one in Gwen's shop and the one with the elemental inside conflicted.
“Mom, these machines resemble some devices we saw in Whaler's Wharf. They were used as a power source. Are you trying to start your project over?”
She sighed.
“Looks like you caught me. Yes, I wanted to finish what I started back then because now I can see that the world needs what I found out even more. Whaler's Wharf ended the way it did because people were only looking out for themselves but with a little help from Twinty and with myself in charge I think things will be a lot different.”
He thought of Alouella, or whoever the Queen of Elves would send her way, and imagined for a moment that they would stop at nothing to get back what they'd lost or destroy it so no one else could have it.
“Mom, we really shouldn't stay. It's nice that you want to help people but we need to leave, to go far away where you can be safe. We already know how far the elves are willing to go.”
Gwen held up her hand.
“I feel like someone here has to at least defend the elves. We don't know what the Queen's opinion on this was or if Alouella won't be on our side and convince them once she puts everything together. She just needs time.”
Aggatha sighed, sitting back in her chair. Her lip twitched.
“Oh, dear, I'm sure your little friend is very nice but Clarke is right. Most elves can't be trusted. Over the years they may have tried to change their public image but the rulers, the ones who control it all, have remained the same.”
Her eyes looked somewhere miles beyond the table, a hardness taking over her features.
“Controlling. Secretive. Thinking they know what's best. They had me engineer a great deal of their culture and history over the last ten years, erasing the parts they didn't like, changing things just so slightly until the world went according to their script.
She touched the nub of her arm as she whispered.
“Pardon the expression but the only good elf is a dead elf.”
The dark mood that had made her part from the table dissipated and she smiled once more, finishing her eggs.
Gwen's eyes went wide and she slowly turned to look at Clarke, at a loss for action as their eyes met. Anyone else she would have immediately corrected but the woman had been kept locked in a basement for a decade.
Clarke looked back and shook his head only enough for her to see but she opened her mouth and he shook his head harder.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Script, and pardon me for saying, but what the fu-”
Years of throwing things had given Clarke just enough practice to land a diagonal cut of toast in Gwen's mouth and stop the rest of her sentence. Beyond the half second of time that bought, Clarke had no plan but divine intervention stepped in and a Ratling entered, scuttling around the room to Twinty and delivering a message that had him on his feet immediately.
“Looks like a lot of elves have been trickling along the road, plain clothes, regular intervals that's more pattern than people traveling. I would wager they've come looking for their little lost artifact and hoping to do it without letting anyone know. They even saw Wade and Alouella.”
Aggatha nodded, thinking for a moment and shrugging.
“If they're still stopping every elf at the gates due to thoughts of plague then that shouldn't be a problem. How is the digging going?”
“Smoothly. Few more days...”
They began to stand, putting the dishes away when the secretive talk piqued Clarke's interest.
“Digging?”
“Oh!”
Aggatha clapped her hands together and grabbed Clarke's hand in a little tug.
“I forgot, with everything being so busy. Would you like to come and see what your old mother has been working on?”
“Sure! Of course.”
Gwen caught his eye and held a finger up, pointing to the table.
“Can we join you in a moment? We'll clean the dishes first.”
She couldn't help a smile and tousled his hair.
“Such a good boy. We'll wait for you in the tunnels.”
Their voices began to disappear as they walked away. Gwen wolfed the last of her toast down.
“Okay, the elf thing, you know that's not alright. Why did you stop me?”
He sighed.
“I know but she was imprisoned solely by the worst elves imaginable for a long time. You can't expect her to be okay all at once. I'll talk to her about it.”
“I guess...still, you better talk to her soon. She needs...something. I don't want her to meet Alouella.”
Gwen shivered as Aggatha's look stayed in her mind.
“I will. As soon as possible. I swear.”
“Good.”
The dishes only took a few minutes before they were finished and they headed to meet up and see whatever was being dug beneath the city.
“Hey, Clarke. Can we go see Alouella and Wade later?”
“You know they're hunting us down, right?”
He opened the door but she stopped midway to finish her thought without talking to his back.
“They're hunting you and I'm not gonna let some of my best friends tear themselves apart over all of this. Plus there's a small elf army gathering, talk of plague, digging...well, digging isn't so bad. More than ever we need our friends. Come on...just talk to her.”
He sighed, uneasy at the thought of mending fences he'd felt had been knocked down and lit on fire and the ashes blown away and Gwen wouldn't have admitted it even if there were no hope. But at the least he could make the effort even if he was still pissed off.
“I guess. Let's go see...”
He waved his hand out to the tunnels.
“...whatever this is first.”
She beamed and clapped his arm hard enough to hurt.
“That's the spirit. The whole group will be back together soon.”