7

TALENTLESS

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Wylson felt the Kinjoku tram cabin lurch as the airship slowed and a loud bellowing hiss filled the air. Wylson sprang to his feet and grabbed Mo by the wrist, hauling her towards the exit. Doors hummed as they parted, allowing Wylson and Mo to step on to one of the Habitat quarter’s many rooftop Kinjoku Stations.

From the top of the concourse, one could actually see some of Skithia’s other islands, lit by the light of distant sun lamps and sun hearths in the night. Tetamin itself was bathed in moonlight, bomba wood buildings reflecting in the sea beyond.

Just as the doors to the Kinjoku shut behind them, the massive creature beneath the cabin turned its oblong, carapace-covered head toward Wylson. The beast let out a loud huff, more of a hiss really, before turning its four red eyes forward and clashing its pronged mandibles in agitation. Normally the Kinjoku would be munching on nuggets of Sunstone, in preparation of the next leg of its journey along the transit route. Wylson however, thought this one had a bit of a lazy cast to its eyes. Airships were often as subject to the whims of their Kahjemuji insect cattle as they were to the pilots steering them.

Wylson shouldered his way through the other inhabitants of the concourse, Mo on his heels. They were in a hurry to deliver, and he was itching to have another face to face with their elusive employer. After crossing several skywalks —it took at least ten skywalks to get anywhere in the Habitat Quarter— the siblings made it to a pavilion on the nicer side of town, just over the border to the Commercial Quarter.

Unlike the area around the Zoo, which was always hit the hardest when the Chasm Quakes came knocking. The Commercial Quarter, by contrast, was well maintained. It was home to Krystarian government facilities and small businesses that existed for use of both the guilded and the guildless. Where the haves and the have-nots came to mingle, beneath Tetamin more… well kept Towers. It was the perfect district for spots like the Red Island Inn.

The inn’s sign was the painted kind, illuminated by sun lamps that lit up both the stables and the hotel itself with soft lavender light. In spite of the lit sign, business was on hold at the Red Island for renovations. The inn itself was shadowed inside, silent as the Abyss. And stables were as barren as the frozen wastes of Hoarfrost. Barren… save for a single six-legged kitaifu, hunched in the stables like a sleeping giant.

Kinjoku were not permitted outside of their routes, the monstrous arthropods were much too large for that. But their kitaifu cousins were smaller, much more agile bugs. They were capable of flying great distances with only a little bit of help from Engines. They were markedly faster and more efficient than pure Engine vehicles. Grafted into the shell of the one before them, was a large carriage bolted into the carapace. It was similar to the cabin bolted onto the back of the Kinjoku, only much smaller and more comfortable. At first glance one might think the carriage part of the creature’s abdomen, but that sleek and sporty volcanic glass finish was no natural development.

Wylson pointed to a shaded corner of the stable and jerked his head toward it. Mo eyed him silently, before nodding in response to the gesture and proceeding to make her way toward the spot he’d indicated. There was just enough light from the inn’s lamps that Wylson could make out her silhouette, but not so much that she would stand out to any passersby who happened to glance in her direction. The stables were open to the air, so that kitaifu could land and not feel claustrophobic while they were rested and fed. Despite the light of the lamps and the moon above, the spot Wylson had chosen would cover Mo well if things went sour.

Once she was in place, Wylson turned and sauntered over to the Kitaifu carriage, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. The carriage was as sleek and smooth as the beast beneath was rough and ridged. The creature’s dark, ridged carapace resembled cooled lava, like that found on Skithia’s many volcanic islands. The creature had no discernable neck and it did not turn to face Wylson as he approached its waist high pin. Once at the pin, Wylson hopped up on a stool that would put him at eye level with the carriage window, and unfortunately, knee level with the Kitaifu’s snapping mandibles.

He leaned on the carriage, his arm resting just beneath where he assumed the window would be. The window seemed to blend perfectly with the frame. For all he knew, there may not be any windows. He put on his snarkiest grin, pearly teeth peeking out through curved lips. The casement slid open, and Wylson nearly fell into it as it slid from beneath his arm.

A woman sat inside. She stared forward as though Wylson were not even there, as if he was of no consequence, a smudge on her carriage window. She straightened her smart, one-piece lavender suit with both hands, although it didn’t appear to need it. She snapped her head towards him, causing the neat, krystarian bun in her hair to bob slightly. Her dark brown hair had a lone streak of white in it that traveled up the bun and down the other side. Not a streak from age, judging by its healthy luster. Most striking about the woman was her shifting multi-colored eyes. One second honey-gold, then forest-green, then sapphire-blue. Always changing into the next color before fully settling on the current shade. The eyes of the aristocracy, a Merchant Lord who was continually topped up with Sunstone. Solars with access to that much Ether… Her expression said it all. I could rip you in half without so much as batting an eye. Don’t cross me, guildfallen.

He tried to focus on her lips instead of those piercing bright eyes. They were painted plumb to match her suit, and watching them he found himself licking his own. She was actually somewhat fetching. Even with those eyes.

The woman folded her arms. “You actually found it?” Treager asked icily.

If that is your real name, he thought to himself. He rather doubted it.

“Oh ye of little faith,” he answered, smirking and reaching into the compartment in his sleeve. Wylson pulled the Soulstone cube out of his pocket, and showed it to Treager. “Tracking stolen goods is a specialty of mine. It was no sweat, really. And here I was expecting a challenge.”

Treager shrugged, eyes lidding in apparent disinterest. “Sorry to disappoint you. I expected someone of your…” She looked him up and down. “…Stature would prefer whatever job required the least amount of effort for the most personal gain.” She reached out and snatched the cube from him. She turned the Soulstone over in her fingers, tapping into its beats with her own, no doubt.

She mumbled as she inspected the cube. “Midnight Moon… that tavern in the Habitat Quarter. So this Apophis Nester really had it then? That is interesting.” She gave him a sharp look. “Were there any problems?”

Wylson tisked.

“Treager, Treager, Treager…,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm a professional. Granted I don't usually work for the Merchant Guild but…,”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Treager interrupted. “You're not working for the Merchant’s Guild,” she said, coldly. “You're working for me. You don’t honestly think my employers would hire YOU for a job? Fortunately for you, I didn’t have many other options.”

Wylson chuckled lightly. He had thought that, actually. Merchant Lords often employed agents to pursue their interests in the Zoo. Using one rat to hunt another, as it were. Treager pulled a small case from her suit coat, black as night with silver borders, and handed it to Wylson. The rest of his payment, he presumed. In the form of three times as many silver pieces as he’d been given as a down payment.

Wylson took the small case, making it vanish inside the lining of his own coat. “You seemed to think we were capable enough when you hired us,” he said, without anger. He was used to being underestimated. “But then you went white when I told you I’m not… particularly talented. I can't imagine why, that would bother you. Not when I have this sparkling personality.”

He put on a smug, toothy grin. Unlike Mo, Wylson had poor Solarics. He sensed next to nothing from others. He could barely communicate through soulstone. He had no affinity.

Anansi Wylson was damaged goods.

It didn’t matter. The old bastard who’d raised them hadn’t needed Solarics to get by, and neither did Wylson. Solarasis was a tool, just like any other. If he couldn’t use one, then he’d just find another.

Treager rolled her eyes. “Yes, well. Your little friend there made quite the case for you on the network. I needed a good Engineer and one doesn’t need Solarasis to be a good Engineer.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

She waved the Soulstone cube about as though to emphasize her point. Treager then nodded at Mo, who was now standing leaning against the wall of the hotel. Wylson glared over his shoulder at Mo. He had told her to stay out of sight.

Treager chanced a smirk.

“But that work with the Anima? It’s not easy to stay out of God’s Eye Adolai’s sight, even for guild professionals. I wouldn’t be surprised if that girl were to Laureate one day. Solaric or not. I’d suggest keeping her around if you expect to have any longevity in this line of work. In fact…”

Wylson’s smile faded and his face darkened, shifting in color for the first time since he’d slit Orcis’s throat. Laureate? His sister? A slave to the guilds and their self righteous, backstabbing ways. Dragged off to Hallow when they discovered what she was.

Over my dead body.

“You let me worry about my associates,” he said. Treager’s smile faded in kind, as he forced his own to resume. “And let me know if you need anything else… uncovered.”

She gave him a level look. “We'll see,” she said. “Do not contact me. I’ve wiped my contact scripts. No associate of yours will even be able to confirm my existence, let alone contact me. So don’t bother trying. It will only draw unwanted attention.”

Wylson’s snarky grin widened. “It was a pleasure doing business with you too,” he replied dryly.

Treager ignored him. “No loose ends, Wylson. Keep our dealings clean and I just may have further use for a fixer in the Habitation Quarter.”

“You won’t have any problems from me,” he said through a smirk.

Treager scoffed, staring at him for a long silent moment. It made it difficult for Wylson to keep up his grinning. “You’re awfully sure of that. Which I’m betting means you’re either foolishly careless or undeservedly confident.”

Wylson let the insult roll off of him. He’d been called worse today. Treager would learn soon enough, just how formidable Wylson could be.

“Tell me,” Treager said suddenly, waving the cube

towards him. “Did you have a look at it?” She did not look at him as she asked the question. She just kept staring at the cube, as though her words had been idle. Not an attempt to discover if he had looked into anything he shouldn’t have.

“Just a peek,” Wylson answered warily. He doubted she’d have believed him if he’d said no.

Wylson reached out to take the cube. Tregear eyed him for a moment, then placed it in his hand. Wylson willed the cube to project. He could do that much, even with his limited ability. The cube sprang to life, lighting up Treager’s face with brilliant red light. The hollow looked like a face. It took the form of an expressionless mask. With empty, cavernous eyes and a slit mouth. Normally they greeted those nearby when summoned. This one said nothing, hovering silently above the silvery cube. It was just a memory.

“I think it was an Anima,” Wylson said. “It didn’t say much. Just a Spark of Divinity. Not like Adolai, but it could still be a big ticket item. An entity like that. So I doubled it’s memories and stored them in that cube. Easy enough to get at, but you’ll need a Sage in your pocket to read those memories, or you won’t be able to get two pieces for that thing. I hope you’ve got a buyer lined up. I’d hate to think we just tangled with the biggest gang in the realm for nothing.” If those memories are worth what I think they are then it would have been worth diving into the Abyss and facing off with Deamon Death himself.

Treager didn’t appear to have heard a word he said. She was just staring up at that Anima mask, light from the device casting rays across her face. She stared wide eyed, lips parted. Wylson arched an eyebrow at the woman, staring sun-struck as though she’d never seen one before.

“Treager?” Wylson called.

She jerked suddenly, and he deactivated the hollowcast in shock. Glaring up to him, Treager put a free hand to her ear. With the other she reached up to snatch the cube and the Anima inside. staring up at him and looking confused. “What? What did you say?”

Wylson eyed the woman warily. “I said I couldn’t read it. Not a line.”

Treager scoffed. “Of course not. You said that already. Well, anything else?”

Wylson tried very hard to mask his shock. That was it, she was just going to take him at his word like that. He caught a flash of movement inside Trager’s vehicle. She was not alone in there, and he wanted to be sure he cut off any snap decisions to end him. No doubt that all it would take was a suggestion from Treager and Wylson would be on the hot end of a lancer. Before that happened, he’d wanted to make it clear that he was still more of an asset than a risk.

That’s right. I’m just an ignorant zooby, who don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.

He blinked several times, wiping at his eyes. That anima had really messed him up. He hoped he didn’t need a Nymph. When he opened his eyes again, Treager was staring back at him with narrowed eyes. Those color-shifting eyes were unsettling, and he had to fight the urge to reel back from that luminous gaze. His nervous smile became a rictus, but he did not let it fall. His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the grinning.

“Did you get its name,” Treager said. “Even with your modest ability, I assume you at least heard that much.”

Wylson winced. He had heard that. Denying it would be much too obvious. “Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Mnemosyne.”

If the word meant anything more to Treager than they did to Wylson, she did not let it show on her face. She turned away to look straight ahead in her vehicle, leaning back against her seat. “Wait for my call,” she said levelly. It was not a request.

Treager’s window reappeared, fading into existence as if by magic. And just like that her Kitaifu leapt straight up in the air, it folded its legs beneath it and let loose four massive wings that buzzed at its sides. The carriage began to glow, sending out a powerful wave of negative energy that made the inescapable pull of gravity relent. The force of the hover sent Wylson reeling back, nearly knocking off of his stool. He teetered back and forth for several seconds before he was able to regain his balance and glare angrily up at the air to where her carriage had vanished. “Shrew,” he cursed, as he heard her buzzing of wings fade into the silent darkness above.

Moonlight swallowed all light from the carriage as it disappeared into the night. In his hand, he made an object appear from with his sleeve. He worked the small object between his fingers, letting it fall over one digit to another, mimicking his coin trick. Snapping it up with his thumb and index finger, he held the small Soulstone cube up to the low light of the stable yard. This cube was virtually identical to the one he had given Treager, save for its contents. It contained a copy of the same memories he had given to Treager. Not something Treager had asked for, but had seemed like a prudent move all the same. The memories would need to be translated of course, but there was nothing for it. Information was often currency, as good as Platinum plates. And a Krystarian Anima would no doubt have had an in to all kids of secrets. Secrets he could use. Wylson held no illusions about Treager’s willingness to cut him loose if he became a loose end. Once she verified the data he’d acquired for her, he would immediately shift from asset to liability in her eyes. Who would care about a few missing Zoobies.

The duplicate cube would serve well enough as his own personal insurance policy. And perhaps a road to a platinum plate of his own, if he could leverage her into bringing him on to finish the job. Whatever it dimming was. Wylson had never been so wrapped up in the business of Merchant Lords, Anurai crime bosses, and the blasted Krystarium itself. He was playing with the big boys now. If he was going to win this game, then he was going to have to start playing at a higher level.

*****

Mo watched in silence as the kitaifu took off, nearly knocking Annie off his feet. She loved her big brother, but he was lousy with women, and seemed to rub them all the wrong way eventually. Perhaps, she would give him a few pointers. Old Grawl always said that he could use a good woman in his life. She yawned, jaw cramping a little from the strain.

Behind her back, she rolled a single Hestian fang from one finger to the next like a coin. It was a trick of the fingers that Annie had taught her. She slipped the fang into her back pocket as Annie sulked, walking over to join her.

The fang was a remembrance, a souvenir of her first real job. A real job. She’d wanted to slap Annie when he’d tried to keep her from going on this one too. Things hadn’t exactly gone like she’d expected, but they had come through together. They would… they would just have to be more careful. As long as they stuck together, everything would be fine. Just like always.

Mo’s eyelids kept drooping, her head falling before snapping back up in a burst of fleeting alertness. She could still see that look of stunned confusion on that Hestian’s face as she stabbed him again and again. The carnage. Her knife sticking out of the side of that man’s head. The blood… Everywhere. Mo’s stomach lurched and she slapped the sides of her face, in an attempt to shake the images from her mind. The memory of it was still fresh, clinging deeply inside her head.

She blew out through her nose. He was gone now, and she was not. That was all there was to it. She lifted the fang up to her face inspecting it. The rank scent of the Hestian’s breath wafted off of it. She slipped the fang into her vest pocket.

OLD GRAWL HAD TAUGHT HER AND ANNIE NOT TO TAKE MORE THAN YOU HAD TO FROM A JOB. LEST IT COME BACK TO BITE YOU LATER. WELL, THAT HESTIAN WOULDN’T BE BITING ANYONE NOW. ONE LITTLE REMEMBRANCE COULDN’T HURT.

*****

Essence Affinities are rare mutations that appear in one of every twenty Solars. Essences push life into the fundamental forces enable our universe to function. As such, they can be extremely dangerous and are strictly monitored by all known states and local governments. In the free states their usage is restricted entirely, while the Krystarium places restrictions based on the Affinity in question.

From An Introduction to Elementary Solarisis

By Artemis Grunwell, Born of Crijatakure, under Bhazima

Crijahtan Institute of Science and Solarics