Chapter 49 - Mender Childes' Unfortunate Nose

“Dragons above, how much has he had to drink?” asked Mithra, wrinkling her nose.

“None at all!” said Annalisa. “It’s a card thing.”

Together, the pair hauled me up and over to rat-bed. I was powerless to move myself or do anything but gasp and sob. It felt as though I’d just run from Oildown to the council hall in the upper city and smashed my head against every lamp post along the way. Flashes of warding diagrams and their arcane mechanisms still crossed my vision.

When I first set out to discover the secrets of the Deck of Wills, I hadn’t imagined how painful it would be. These revelations had done almost as much damage to me as the sharks from Hollowdown. It was only by virtue of the fortification granted by bonding additional cards that I was able to withstand the onslaught. The devilborn duo rolled me over on my side toward the wall, probably worried I would drown in my own sick if left on my back. I managed a moan and twitched my fingers.

“I’ll fetch yon medicae,” sighed Miss Trundi, and left. After a look somewhere on the bridge between concern and pity, Mithra followed her.

Annalisa shut and locked the door after they left. Then I heard her sweeping all the cards together and stacking them back on my desk.

“Dammit, Darcent,” she muttered. “We don’t have time for this.”

She was right, of course. I’d have told her, if I could. Because of me she’d have to face her next bout without the magic items we were hoping to find on our delve. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to face it without me in her corner, as well.

I closed my eyes for what I thought was only a moment, and the next thing I knew a strange man was prying one of them open. My first instinct was to grab my knife. As I went for it, a blue hand clamped down over mine, preventing me from drawing it. Several people started shouting, and I smashed my forehead up.

The man reeled back, a hand to his nose, and I finally saw him from the neck down, including his Menders Guild robes.

Oh shit.

“Bugbear’s fat, hairy balls!” he shouted. ”Argh, fuck, that hurt! He’s fine, now, obviously!”

“Sorry, mender,” I said. Then, to Anna: “How long this time?”

“A day and a half,” she said, distraught. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“Ugh. Fates fucking below!” I said, pulling the threadbare blanket off myself, and then immediately back on me.

“Why am I undressed?” I asked, face reddening.

“Mithra said we couldn’t let you sleep in sick-stained clothes,” said Annalisa.

“Of course she did,” I said, seething. She was right, of course. But I wager she still found it a very convenient (and amusing) excuse.

Moving to the side of the bed, the room spun as I found my feet. Whatever the mender had said, I most certainly was not fine. Not only that, but we’d lost our window to delve the undercity before Annalisa’s next fight. It was less than a day away, and there’s no way we could make it down to the ruins Alondalis had marked for us and back up in time. And missing the bout was simply unthinkable. Pit fights, and the fixing thereof, was the mainstay of our operation. It was also the best way for us to show our neighbors, in this case, from Kindledown, that Kridick’s successors-by-happenstance weren’t pushovers to be rolled up and swept aside. Not only that, but Annalisa lived for the ring. If anything, I was most angry at myself for almost ruining it for her.

Annalisa moved to help me up, and I struggled to keep the blanket wrapped around my waist. I noticed she was not nearly as gentle as she had been with the infirmed elf.

The mender stopped quietly swearing in the corner and shot me a glare.

“Got anything for a wicked headache?” I asked.

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He sighed and pulled out a small envelope of powder. “Take it as tea and hold your nose when you drink it. It goes down bitter and tastes like six-month old seaweed.”

I recognized that advice and groaned. “Mirefallow root? Really? You don’t have anything more pleasant?" I asked.

“I do,” he smirked and held out the medicine. “But why should I be the only one suffering?”

“You’re not, I ground between clenched teeth. But I accepted the proffered envelope. Annalisa gave me the stink-eye. I growled but looked to the mender. “Thank you, mender…”

“Childes,” he said.

“Mender Childes. Anything else?”

“You mean, such as instructions that you’ll follow? Nay. I know a man who ignores orders when I see him, so I’ll not waste the breath.” he closed up his case and rubbed his nose again. “I suggest you find yourself a new mender, in the future. My prices have just gone up.”

“Are you serious?” I demanded, rubbing my temples. “It was an accident! I just—you know what? Fine. Annalisa, let’s go find Jeedle.”

After the mender left, I looked around, and then at Annalisa. “Where are my clothes?”

“At the wash.” she looked me up and down, biting her knuckle. “I’ll, um, see if Damen has something. You two are similar sizes.”

She left, and I sighed again. While I waited for her to return, I collected my cards. Then, realizing I had nowhere to stow them, fanned them out on the desk and sat down, glaring at the suit of towers. I really needed some spare clothes. The three cunnings left over from buying our dungeoneering kit should at least get me something. But it wouldn’t be quality, and it wouldn’t be fashionable.

Speaking of fashionable, Annalisa returned, and my eyes widened with what she’d scrounged. “You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

Five minutes later I was in the main room being whistled at and cat-called by the entire host of the Mop. My face was at least as Red as Mithra’s, and fun-fact: when you blush hard enough, it travels down to your chest. Which, in my case, was extremely visible, thanks to the wide v-slit in Damien’s purple blouse that extended almost down to my naval—which it just barely covered, thanks to a gap in the coverage above the trousers.

The trousers weren’t much better, having some skin-hugging elven fabric from the elven isles south of Paeldrak and a shine like oiled leather. I pulled the wide, flat hat down lower and stormed out the front door. I am not used to having that many people staring at me. And I certainly didn’t appreciate it.

Annalisa followed behind, laughing so hard that her tail curled in on itself.

“Annalisa, I vow to the wane dragons, I will get you back for this,” I said.

“Oh come off it,” she sniggered. “You look good! You should wear more colorful clothes instead of just that big shapeless robe all the time. It does your butt no favors.”

“Why are you looking at my butt?!” I sputtered, flushing all over again?”

“Because I walk behind you a lot,” she said. “It is literally my job to watch your ass.”

Gods damn it all, she actually had a point there. I drew my deck and pulled out the three of towers.

Annalisa’s smile vanished. “Are you sure you ought be messing with that thing?” she asked. “Those spindly ones are what put you to sleep.”

“They’re called towers, Annalisa.” I pursed my lips. She had a point there, too. But I didn’t just go through two days of will debt just to ignore a potential windfall. I sent my will into the card and flinched as it called the knowledge into the front of my brain. I could see that knowledge reflected in the card, and I held it up to my eye, looking through it. It was like a tiny widow into what could be, and superimposed arcane sigils on the surface of the wall.

Most of what the towers had etched in my head was far beyond my ability. Any of the ones that functioned as lethal traps, alerts, or complex curses were out of reach. But I knew what I wanted, and it should be possible. I took my knife out and activated the two of knaves to coat it with the keen enchantment. I began to carve an array of lines and patterns into the corner of the south face.

“Miss Trundi is going to kill you!” said Annalisa. “The builders have just finished.”

I ignored her and pressed my hand to the pattern, sending my will along the pathways and channels I’d carved. The ward flashed white, and then melted back into the surface of the building. I could still see it through the card against my eye, but when I lowered it, you couldn’t tell the wall had ever been touched. I nodded, satisfied.

Annalisa ran her hand over the wall. “What did you do?”

“It’s a deterrent,” I said.

“Can’t be,” Annalisa replied. “The wall’s still filthy.”

I squeezed my temples, but then caught the hint of a smile. She was messing with me. I tried not to let it get under my skin. “Those that mean us harm should have a harder time finding the Mop n’ Bucket. This ward should confound the simple-minded, though it won’t work if someone like Mother Mayaz comes looking herself.” I tapped my chin. “Are there any other powerful mages with grudges to settle against us?

“Just Kridick and Zarry. But they’re not mages,” said Annalisa.

“Gods, I’d almost forgotten about them. That’s a headache I don’t need. It wouldn’t work on them anyway, since they already know where it is.”

We left. The match was in Kindledown, and I’d hoped to use it to get a feel for the powers-that-be in the matchbox district. When I was younger, a tribe of wolf wild-marked had run the borough. They’d since been run out. With Mother Mayaz looming on the eastern front (and thank the gods an entire unsheathing separated us), I had to look west to expand our sphere of influence. Brokier was a good start. But turning him was only the tip of the matchstick.