Chapter 37 - Meditations on Wills II

With my office finally to myself, I ignored Kridick’s old safe and went to a loose board by the window, prying it off to make sure that it hadn’t been disturbed by Threadripper’s prying. Either he hadn’t found it, or he’d spotted the safeguards against intrusion and reset them—which would mean he was a vastly more dangerous agent than impressions would suggest. Beside Lancaster’s Manual of Wills and the blood-soaked deck of Margot’s personal seeker was my remaining stash of clips and cunnings. Hardly a dragon’s horde, it barely amounted to enough to hire a few of the girls for the night’s company. Not that I would be so wasteful with discretionary funds.

On top of the manual was a journal I kept coded notes within. Honestly, who wouldn’t use a cipher for the important bits? It outlined my plans, figures, and projections for expanding our influence within Barrowdown and beyond. All of those plans relied on one thing: growing stronger. Annalisa’s progress was simple and comparatively straightforward. She hit things. As she became a better fighter, her martial prowess grew. As she became more in touch with the planes, obsidian would reinforce her body.

As far as mages go, Soul Seeking is considered one of the more esoteric branches of the arcane. The systems are always in constant flux, and evocations between two seekers, even with matched suits, are wildly different. While an arcanist or an alchemist can learn a spell or formulae from a book and achieve reasonable results, Soul Seekers enhance their abilities only through bonding with the identities and concepts behind the cards.

I hesitated for a moment over the journal, and instead pulled out the blood-stained deck. As soon as my fingers brushed it, the near constant whispering grew to a constant choir of unintelligible malevolence. I wasn’t one to believe in mundane labels as ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Such things were often based on points of view or degrees of commitment to a cause or plan. But, if there was pure evil, Margot Bethane had perhaps been the closest thing to it. She still had servants in Dragonmaw, and unless I missed my mark, it seemed like Mother Mayaz was one of them. Margot had attracted all types of degenerate denizens, and the shark-like fanatics in Hollowdown sure fit the bill. I could see those sharks lining up behind her for any number of reasons, and Mother Mayaz herself had all but confirmed her true colors when she tasted the fel witch on my blood.

I shuddered at that unpleasant memory. After wedging the board back in place, I looked out the window at the setting sun. The long office had windows running the length of it, and my guess was that this used to be a solarium for growing plants before the downs had swallowed it up and turned it into a cathouse. Unbroken pane glass wasn’t especially common in Dragonmaw once you left the upper city. Especially not in the downs. The fact these remained, unbroken at that, was nothing short of a miracle.

Rain began to patter off those windows as I took my seat and pushed the useless notes and missives out of the way. Anything important was told to me directly by Mithra, Trundi, or Jeedle. Hell, I’m sure more of my allies were missing their letters than had found them. I needed the space for my deck. Not the blood-soaked deck. Not yet. I regarded the thing with no amount of suspicion as I pulled out my own and called forth all the cards I had bonded.

In knaves, I had the two, three, and five. And I felt I was somewhat close to the four. Once I managed it, I should be able to call on the court of knaves. In dragons, I had the three and four. In both towers and storms, I had only managed the two of each suit. Seven cards out of my potential twenty, plus whatever major arcana with which I might someday developed kinship. Far more than I had just a few weeks prior, and no longer deficient in terms of progress. Most Soul Seekers didn’t master four suits. At least, not for decades. I wasn’t willing to wait that long, and knaves beneath my fingers echoed my impatience. I glanced at the badge hanging on my robe on the hook. Still third rank, even after my earlier fiasco with Brokier and the application of the two of storms.

I searched the deck for both the four and the court of knaves and added them to the others. I held the court to my brow and channeled my will into it. But the card felt empty, bereft, and desolate. Even more so than usual.

Sighing, I did the same with the four, the tongue of knaves. I almost fell back out of my chair when it answered my call immediately, draining my will to fuel a spell whose purpose I could not ascertain. I checked myself all over for markings or things popping out in my vision but saw nothing. Still, I had undoubtedly just activated it. I don’t even know when I had bonded with it or have any clue as to its effect. Honestly, it’s a good thing that had happened with such a benign card. If it had been, say the two of dragons, called the flame of dragons? The results could have been disastrous.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Despite what I had just said about benign cards, I quickly reached for the court of knaves again, with the same result. It was like the power behind the card just wasn’t there. The inked forms of the lively court holding daggers, roses, and steins felt completely cold and empty. I poured more and more of my will into it. Answer me, I commanded.

A flash of flight, a loud bang, and burst of, all things, rose petals, sprang from the card along with a mental response so clear and visceral that it knocked me back in the chair to sprawl across the floor.

1.

I pushed up to my elbows, ears ringing. The door opened, and Mithra pushed in with a cudgel, taking in the scene. Unfortunately, the scene was me lying on the floor amidst a pile of rose petals. She grinned. “Is this all for me? I have to say, I prefer the bed—” she looked at rat-bed “—maybe not that bed.”

Still dazed, and a bit salty at having been hit by three separate concussive blasts in one day, I climbed to my knees. “Just meditating on some magic principles,” I said. Petals and cards still fluttered in the air, and I began to pull the latter into a pile as Mithra dropped her cudgel by the door and moved to help me to my feet.

“Some meditation. When I heard the floor boards rattling, I thought Annalisa had cornered Damen again. But then I realized she hadn’t left the bar since she got back. Glad to see you’re fine.”

I righted my chair and plopped down into it, holding my palm against my forehead. Mithra plucked an errant petal out of my hair, and then surprised me by circling around behind me and beginning to knead my shoulders.

“Dragons above!” I gasped. The devilborn girl had strong, slender fingers that seemed to immediately seek out every painful knot and smooth it. I slumped forward, and her thumbs started to push up the back of my neck along the outside of my spine. It hurt, but more than that, it hurt less than I had before. She wrapped one hand around the front of my throat, and I almost panicked, thinking she was about to choke me, but she put a thumb and forefinger behind my jaw and tilted my skull forward. Her other hand started to pull down across my neck, and I felt my spine start to unwind.

“Now this, is magic,” I said.

Mithra giggled. “I told you there were other things I could do for you.”

“I didn’t even know this was a thing that could be done!” I said. I groaned as her fingers dug in above my clavicles and worked up the front of my neck.

“They’re all the rage in the upper city,” said Mithra. She leaned down and whispered in my ear. “But they can’t do them like I can.” Mithra was touched by the fire plane, and she heated her fingers just to the edge of painful. I’d never felt anything like it, and I told her so.

“Believe it or not, these techniques originated on the Mausoleum Plains. Old, stuffy necromancers have a lot of tension to work out. So do you, apparently.”

“Those old, stuffy necromancers never tried to keep Barrowdown running,” I said.

“Oh, my big strong crime boss,” she mocked, slapping my arm with her tail. Then, softly, “I’m just glad I didn’t have to slit such a pretty throat.”

“Me too. How’s Lenise doing, anyway?”

Mithra’s hands froze. “What?”

I looked back at her, confused. She looked down at me with wide eyes, alarm evident. “Should I not be glad at my throat being in one piece? Never mind, forget I said anything.”

“I will…” she said, carefully. “Besides,”

“It’s rude to talk about other women in the company of one?” I guessed.

Annalisa chose that moment to burst into my office and see Mithra with one hand around my throat and the other down the back of my shirt.

Uh oh.

She turned a bright shade of purple and looked up at Mithra. I half-thought she’d assume I was under attack and launch herself at us, flattening me yet again, but a burst of… something… passed between them. I could feel vibrations in my mind, like an entire conversation being squeezed into a single breath. Annalisa turned around and dashed out of the room.

“What was that?” I asked, reeling.

Mithra shrugged. “She’s your partner.”

“No, whatever you two did, just now. I could feel it.”

The plane-touched woman recoiled as if bit.

I turned. “Is that… something all plane-touched can do?”

“It’s something all demons can do,” she said, “Deviltongue: Speech across distances. Devilborn inherit the trait. But you’re not a demonologist.”

“Well something changed. I—” I looked at the table. The tongue of knaves. Secrets, whispers, and truths. I picked up the card. Could the spell have something to do with divining hidden truths, translating foreign ciphers, or secret messages? If so, the possibilities were endless! I channeled my will into it. “Try it now. Send me something.”

Mithra hesitated, bit her lip, and then grinned. A cavalcade of vivid images flooded my mind. Fates fend, if she could have put them to canvas, she’d have been hailed as the great artist of our age. She’d also have been run out of any decent town, as they involved her, along with several of the boys and girls from the Mop. I didn’t know if it was a memory or a fantasy, but it was immediate and visceral, and I’m sure she took note of its, erm, immediate, effects.

“Not that something!” I hissed, heat rising in my neck.

“It worked? I can’t believe that worked!,” she said, giggling. Then her giggles erupted into full-throated laughs that she tried to cover with the back of her hand. I made to stand, and she dashed out of the room in a very Annalisa-like fashion, cackling and calling out.

“Miss Trundi! Miss Trundi! Listen to this!”

“Dragons above!” I swore, getting up and slamming the door behind her and dropping the bolt. Suddenly very uncomfortable, I threw myself on rat-bed to look for what sleep I might before the fight.

It was not easy to find.