Abbee woke up with a splitting headache and itchy wrists. It was dark. She was lying on her side on something hard. Pressure on her arms and legs. Abbee tried to move and discovered she was bound with rope. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She made out crates, shelves, and stone walls. A faint light shone from somewhere behind her. Abbee guessed she lay on the basement floor of the inn. Someone had tied her wrists and her ankles together.
She stopped moving and listened. Couldn’t hear anything except her own breathing. No footsteps overhead, no voices, nothing. She remembered getting drugged. Well, poisoned. She remembered the woman’s voice, saying the innkeeper had used too much. Abbee wondered how much time had passed. She also guessed these people had no idea who she was.
This wasn’t the first time someone had tied her up. She looked around for something sharp. Saw the lid of a crate nearby, with a nail poking up from the wood. Abbee bounced and wiggled until she’d rolled over. Her clothes felt different. She stopped and tried to feel around her waist. Her pouches were gone. So was her bolt thrower, her jobs case, and her coat. Abbee swore.
She’d have to deal with that later. Abbee pushed herself backward. Felt for the nail with her fingers and managed to scrape the back of her hand on it. Abbee swore under her breath at the pain. She wriggled a bit more and felt the nail tug on her bound wrists. She set to sawing.
It took forever. Her arms burned with the effort. She struggled, wriggled, and sawed. She chafed her wrists into itchy pain as her gift healed the rope burns. Abbee didn’t know how long it had been, but her headache was gone when the first rope strand snapped. She twisted her hands. The rope loosened. A few more minutes, and she was free.
Abbee sat up and found the knot binding her legs. She untied herself and climbed to her feet. She was indeed in a basement. She saw a set of rickety stairs on the other side of the room. A bit of light shone under the door at the top. Abbee crept over to the stairs. She was about to go up when she heard voices. Sounded like they were down here, in the basement.
Abbee looked behind the stairs and saw a stone wall. She moved closer. The voices grew louder. She put her ear to the wall, and the voices became intelligible.
“… say we should get rid of her,” a woman said. The same one who had advised against using too much poison. The knitter. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I want to know who she is,” a man said. The innkeeper. “How is it that she picked this inn, out of all the ones in the city? It’s at the opposite end of the city from the train yards. Lots of places to stay between here and there. She’s dressed sort of like a hunter. Where did she get the bolt thrower? She’s got that but nothing else. No armor. No seal. Are the hunters using hired help? That’s unlike them. Where did she get all these gems? And this ring. Where did she get this ring? You know what this is. You know whose this is. You may not want to know, but dammit, he’s sent no word for years. Nothing. I want to know where she got it. I’d like to know more before we toss her off the cliff wall. Then there’s this. What is this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“I haven’t either,” the woman said. “Who cares?”
“This crystal,” the innkeeper said. “Look closely. What do you see?”
“I see a piece of quartz. I don’t know why you’re … Wait.”
“You see them.”
“These … are runes. They’re so tiny. I’ve never seen them so small before.”
“Right? I don’t know of any method that inscribes runes so small into a surface so hard. What do you think the handle is made out of?”
Abbee suspected they were looking at the quartz-tipped stick of Ipsu’s, the one that had guaranteed her a beating if Ipsu had ever caught her touching it. Who were these people? They knew about hunters. And they didn’t sound worried as they spoke of them.
“Bone,” the woman said. “No, this is metal. An alloy?”
“Sure, but what kind?” the innkeeper asked. “I’ve not seen that before. It’s too light for steel but too durable for tin.”
Abbee pulled her ear off the wall and looked around for a door. She hoped she could retrieve her belongings without killing them. She wanted to question them.
“Fine,” the woman said. “Maybe we should—”
Their voices fell silent. The wall in front of Abbee swung away from her on hidden hinges, revealing a room on the other side. Both the innkeeper and the woman were two meters away, standing around a small table. A magical light burned in the ceiling.
Neither of them was anywhere near the stone door. At least one of them is a mover. Abbee tensed. She was about to back away when she noticed all her belongings on the table. Everything in her pouches had been pulled out and organized in neat piles.
The woman’s expression was one of astonishment. “How are you conscious?”
“Probably ate an artifact chip,” the innkeeper said. “Only way to deal with the sedative we gave her. I’d love to know where she found one intact after all this time.”
The woman squinted at Abbee. “She doesn’t have a chip. I looked.”
Abbee wondered if the woman was a telepath. Read her mind. They weren’t hunters. Did they work with the network? Had Abbee traveled all this way just to get captured? Had she walked into a trap?
“She’s got a lot of mote on her,” the innkeeper observed. “How did she get out of her bonds? I tied those tight.”
“Please,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. “You’re eighty-three. You can barely hold a book without dropping it.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“That’s why I gave her snuffer too,” the innkeeper said. “Maybe she’s a torch or something.”
“You gave her snuffer?” the woman asked. “Then how come she’s got mote on her?” She looked at Abbee. “Is that old mote or something? Maybe we didn’t notice it.”
Abbee got the impression these two noticed everything. They didn’t seem afraid of her at all. She took a step into the room. Both the innkeeper and the woman watched her. She took another step. Looked at the old woman. “Why do you look familiar?”
The woman frowned. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
The innkeeper gestured at the pile on the table. “An odd collection of things for someone to be carrying these days.”
“Considering you’re no hunter,” the woman observed.
“That’s a dangerous assumption,” Abbee said. “When my friends—”
“Don’t bother lying,” the woman said. “We know when you’re lying, and it’s a waste of everybody’s time.”
The man held up the thumb light. “This looks new. Where did you get it?”
“I found it.” Another step. One more, and she’d be within striking range.
“Where?”
“Who are you people?” Abbee asked. She didn’t wait for them to answer. She lunged forward and drove her palm toward the innkeeper’s chest.
She never connected. Abbee’s muscles locked. Her whole body stopped. No. I won’t be … Wait. Something was different. She couldn’t move, but she felt no pressure. No hard grip from a mover. She knew what that felt like. This was something else. Abbee tried to move anything, even a toe. Nothing. Movers never kept her from squirming at the toe level. Abbee could only stand there and breathe. The innkeeper was a wizard. Probably the woman, too.
The innkeeper frowned at her outstretched palm. His eyebrows shot up. “Ipsu Billings trained you.”
Abbee tried to return his frown, but her face couldn’t form an expression. She tried to speak, but her mouth couldn’t move.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked.
“Very sure,” the innkeeper said. “Look at the position of her thumb and fingers. Ipsu is opinionated about finger placement.” He walked around Abbee and gestured at her arm. “The way she’s driving toward her target with her entire body. This is a classic Ipsu move.” He looked at Abbee. “You’re aiming for a spot twenty centimeters past my chest, aren’t you?”
Abbee tried to show surprise and couldn’t.
“Hmm, maybe not. She doesn’t seem to know who that is.”
“I don’t think she can move her face,” the woman said. “Your body lock is total.”
The innkeeper cocked his head. “Oops. You’re right. I got a little carried away.”
Abbee felt her face tighten into the frown she’d been trying to form. She still couldn’t move anything else. “How do you know Ipsu?” she blurted. “How are you holding me? You don’t feel like any mover.”
“Is Ipsu still disagreeable?” the innkeeper asked. “I’ve not met anyone quite as—”
“He’s dead,” Abbee said.
The innkeeper grimaced. “Ah. I’m sorry. He was a unique individual.”
Abbee watched the innkeeper’s face. His sorrow seemed genuine. Abbee didn’t know how Ipsu could’ve engendered so much compassion in another human being. He’d been stable, sure. He’d been Abbee’s rock for years, right up until he’d abandoned her. This old man couldn’t have known Ipsu very well.
“Will you release me?”
The innkeeper arched a brow. “Depends. Are you going to try to hit me again?”
“I doubt it,” Abbee said, “seeing as I didn’t do so well the first time.”
The innkeeper squinted at Abbee’s outstretched hand. He ran a finger along her wrist. Abbee didn’t like him touching her. “You’re still emitting mote. What’s your talent?”
Abbee kept her mouth shut. She felt a little woozy and guessed her body was still processing the poison they had given her.
“Oh, a guessing game,” the innkeeper said. “I love guessing games.”
“We don’t have time for this,” the woman said.
“It won’t take long. She’s not an elemental, because I’m not seeing any fire or water or anything. Not a mover, for the same reason. I’m not seeing anything flutter around the room. Can’t be a healer—nobody in here to heal. Not a lightbender—or at least not a good one, because I can still see her. Maybe a speaker, but a very frustrated one. Can’t talk to anyone outside this room. Could be an empath or telepath too, but she’d run into the same problem as a speaker. Can’t read anyone else, and can’t read us either.” He smiled and ticked off his fingers. “So, you’re either a speaker, an empath, or a telepath. Which is it?”
Abbee tried to move her legs. Her arms. Nothing. Wait. She moved her toes. Wriggled them. Her fingers. She twitched her fingers. More mote fell.
The innkeeper frowned. His eyes darted to her arms and legs. “What the …? How are you …? She’s moving.”
“I can see she’s moving,” the woman snapped. “You released her face.”
“No, no. She’s breaking free of the body lock.”
“That’s impossible,” the woman said.
The innkeeper pointed at Abbee. “Who …? How are you doing this?”
Abbee had no idea, but every second, she gained more control over her own body.
The innkeeper stared at her in fascination. “I’m not getting weaker. She’s getting stronger. It’s almost as if she’s … eating the lock from the inside out.”
The woman watched from her seat. She cocked her head at Abbee. “Are you a wizard?”
Wizard? Abbee blinked. “What? No.”
“Of course she isn’t,” the innkeeper said. “She walked right through my wards on the front door, didn’t stop to check the whiskey I gave her. She’s broadcasting her emotions around like a six-year-old, and she tried to hit me. With her own fist. If she were a wizard, she’d be a bad one. Whoever, and whatever, she is, she’s about to break out of the body lock.” The innkeeper looked at something behind Abbee. “Hey, hey, hey, we don’t need that.”
“This has gone on long enough,” the woman said. “It’s too dangerous. The only thing that can break free of a body lock is a Forged.”
“If she were Forged, the snuffer and the sedative wouldn’t have done anything at all.”
“A what?” Abbee asked. She remembered that word being used before. Forged. The wizard with the staff had said something like it, back when Ipsu had found her in the mover pit. “What are you talking about?” She was almost free—her whole body quivered against her invisible bonds.
“I’m going to let you out,” the innkeeper said. “Please don’t do anything drastic.” He glanced at whatever was behind Abbee and grimaced. “The results would be messy, and I just cleaned this jacket.”
Abbee felt her body being released. She stepped forward out of the body lock and planted both her feet. Her mote slowed to a trickle and stopped. She shook out her hands. Looked behind her to see what the innkeeper was worried about. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She kept trying to follow it but only caught glimpses. Something was right behind her head. She tried to wave it away, like shooing a horsefly. “What is that?”
“You’re going to answer my questions,” the woman said in a flat tone. “If you try to lie, you die. If you hesitate, you die.”
“Please,” the innkeeper said. “Please don’t do anything permanent.”
The woman spared no glances for the innkeeper. “If you try anything at all, other than answer my questions, you die.”
Good luck with that. Abbee tried to get the thing behind her head. Whatever it was, it was beige and kept scooting out of reach. It seemed long and moved as fast as she did.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
Abbee moved her head slowly, then fast, trying to get the thing behind her. Her fingers brushed something hard.
The innkeeper grimaced. “Marin, no, don’t—”
The woman, Marin, snapped her fingers.
Abbee remembered where she’d seen this woman before, right at the same time that something sharp impacted the back of her neck and pierced her throat. Blood exploded from her neck and sprayed all over the innkeeper. She saw a long, thin spike dart forward and vanish. Abbee couldn’t breathe. All she felt was pain. She saw the innkeeper’s face twist in annoyance before her legs gave out, and she collapsed.