When he was sure no one had eyes on him, Aven climbed up on top of a one-story shack and collapsed on his back. He barely caught his breath when the guards rushed into the alley. “You three, search this alley. The rest of you come with me down this way!” a commanding voice barked. Aven laid as still as he could while the guards pounded on doors, demanding to search the buildings and forcing their way in no matter what was said. After a short, intense search the guards moved on up the alley and out of earshot.
Aven ripped his mask off and tore it into shreds, and then he took out his lock picks and stashed them in the gutter. Careful not to make any noise to alert the people underneath him he stripped off his clothes and switched them inside out. Just like that, he was an acolyte again. He eased his way off the roof and dropped to the ground in a crouch, hurrying back to the mansion.
The once cheerful party was now in a state of chaos. Squads of guards listened to shouted orders, the guest’s carts were jamming up as everyone tried to leave first and the servants rushed this way and that, trying to fulfill their duties in the clamor. Aven stuck near a wall, trying to be invisible as he searched for Bill.
“You there!” a guard spat, pointing his finger at Aven. “What are you doing lurking around?”
“I’m looking for my Ezu,” Aven said, adopting a panicky tone that wasn’t completely fake. “I was in the privy when I heard all kinds of whistles and now I can’t find him!” The guard only grumbled and stomped away, pushing a servant carrying a silver tray aside. Another few minutes of searching and he spotted Bill, sitting serenely under a manicured hedge. “There you are!” Aven said, running over to him.
Bill glanced around for any potential eavesdroppers. “Shouldn’t you be halfway back to the ship by now?”
“We should leave together,” Aven said, glancing over his shoulder at the tumult. A carriage's wheel had cracked in half and the owner was red-faced and screaming. “Some guards have seen us apart. We need some people to see us together.”
“So, we stay for the long haul? Offer any help we can in these trying times?” asked Bill, getting to his feet.
“Normally I’d say yes,” Aven said, eyes sweeping over the courtyard once more. “But I think the Magistrate has an Atemzl Priestess on his guest list. She saw me and her eyes were glowing. No idea if she saw something that could identify me.”
Bill brushed the dirt off his loincloth and then his hands. “Don’t have to tell me twice, let’s go.”
Aven and Bill said goodbye to four different people, asking each to extend their condolences to the magistrate and for him to call on them if he needed anything. Rumors were thick in the air as they weaved through the market district back to the docks. Someone had assassinated the Magistrate at his party. His son and bride-to-be had been kidnapped. A summon had run wild and slaughtered the guards. A fortune in jewels had been stolen from a strong room.
“I wish,” Aven grumbled when he heard that rumor being traded over a game board near the pier.
“You can’t win them all,” Bill said, clapping him on the back. “We’re still free men and that means we get another shot.”
“We’re lucky that didn’t go worse,” Aven said
“Very lucky,” Bill said, stumbling out of the way of a carriage. “But at least we’re still invited back.”
Aven squinted, leaning close to Bill’s face and smelling his breath. “Are you drunk?”
“There wasn’t much to do while I was waiting,” Bill grinned. “In all the confusion, no one was looking after the liquor. So, I entertained myself.”
“Sober up,” Aven grumbled, glancing around for anyone listening in. “You’re supposed to be a holy man.”
Bill scoffed indignantly, putting his hand over his chest. “Excuse me, but the Eternal Waters blessed me with these scales when I was born. I am a holy man no matter how I act,” he said with a laugh. “Besides, it’s only natural to want to have a good time.”
“Just do it. If something happens between here and the ship I don’t want to be stuck with a drunk partner,” said Aven.
“As you wish,” Bill said, making his way through the crowd to the gutter at the edge of the road. He took a deep breath and his body turned to water, dropping to the ground in a puddle with his overcoat and loincloth. After a few moments the water rose up and reformed into Bill with clothes back in the right place. “Ugh,” he said, scratching at the scales on his neck. “That’s a cure from drunkenness but no cure for a hangover. We’re stopping at the first food cart we see.”
“How can you be hungry?” Aven asked, looking around them. A few people on the street gawked at Bill dropping into the gutter, but now no one was giving them a second look. “You gorged yourself at that party.”
“Turning to water removes anything foreign from my body. That means poisons, bullets and undigested food,” Bill said, pointing to a pile of wet mush in the gutter.
“Oh, right,” Aven said as a cart selling roasted nuts rattled towards them.
By the time Bill finished the bag they reached the docks. The pair walked on until they reached a wooden two-masted ship that was sitting low in the water. “Hey everyone, we’re b-“ Bill shouted, cutting off when he saw the scene on deck.
In the middle of the deck stood a man in navy blue robes. His long black hair was done up in a topknot on his head held together by a bronze headpiece and he tapped a clipboard in his hands. “Ah, I assume you are the missing Captain of this ship. Did you forget that you had an inspection scheduled for today?”
“A hundred apologies,” Bill said, grasping his hands together. “I was called away on a spiritual mission.”
“Of course you were,” the man sighed. “Those scales on your neck might overawe the dock guards, but I am an official of The Enduring True Emperor Haogon. When I issue orders, I expect them to be followed.”
“I can only apologize and assure you it will not happen again,” Bill said with a bow.
“Luckily for you I’m not late yet or I’d slap you with an obstruction fine,” the man said, tearing a page out of his book. “Your cargo is fully inspected and your passenger manifest is confirmed. Welcome to Chanan Harbor. Sign here,” he said, holding out his clipboard
“Are there any entertainments we might enjoy while we’re here?” Bill asked as he signed his alias.
“Thanks to your tardiness I have no time for chitchat,” the man said, snapping his book shut. He walked over to the side of the ship and pulled out a cloth doll that he threw overboard. When it hit water a massive sea turtle appeared, bobbing in the waves. “Good day,” he said, hopping over the side and landing on the turtle's back.
The crew watched the turtle swim away until it was well out of earshot. They were a motley looking crew of a dozen men with tattered clothes and calloused hands, hailing from all parts of the Raoin Sea and beyond. “I thought he would never leave,” grumbled Batro, a young man from the far-away city of Bahaba. A crown of flaming red hair sat atop his head, tied in a loose ponytail. His tanned face carried a scowl and he wore no shirt, which left his muscled torso bare. “One more lecture from that pompous prick and I would have decked him.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“I don’t know if you know this young man, but it’s harder to get a customs ticket punched if you attack the inspectors. It’s also not a good idea to attack a Vao. Who knows what other creatures he could summon up?” laughed Cai. He was the oldest man on the crew and Bill’s first mate. His hair, patched with white, gray and black, was cut close to his head. Laugh-lines wrinkled his dark skin at the corner of his eyes and mouth and his bright blue eyes sparkled every time he smiled. He wore a pair of pants patched a dozen times over and a simple sleeveless vest.
“Good job running interference,” Bill said to Cai, stretching his arms
“So tell us what happened,” said Cai.
Aven sighed, holding out his hands. “No dice.”
The crew groaned, but Cai jumped and whooped. “Ha, pay up, all of you!” he grinned as the rest of the crew handed him a handful of coins.
“You bet against us?” said Aven.
“Specifically,” said Cai, biting one of the silver coins. “I bet on ‘both come back, no book’. Batro put money on ‘no book, only Bill comes back’.”
Bill chuckled. “I wouldn’t bet against Aven’s skills again. He’s young but he knows what he’s doing.” He told the crew what happened at the mansion. As he did everyone pulled up a crate or a makeshift chair until all ten of them were sitting in a circle. “So that’s where we are. No better no worse by the look of things.”
“What’s our next move?” asked Cai “Ships don’t stay in Chanan Harbor for long, we can’t sit here forever. We don’t even have any repairs that need doing. The longer we stay, the more suspicion we attract.”
“We can’t go back right away, the guards will be on high alert,” said Bill, slapping his knees. “In the meantime, drag out the sale on our cargo. Make a big fuss out of it so if anyone comes snooping around, they’ll have an answer for why we haven’t left port yet. If we have to, do the same thing with getting a new cargo.”
“What about the book?” asked Cai.
Bill sighed. “As much as I don’t want to, we’re going to have to make contact with local criminals. “The Favor Game is going to slow us down, but until we know what that book looks like, it doesn’t matter if we can get back into that strong room.”
“Why don’t we just ask Tsen?” Batro asked. The whole crew shifted to look at the stairs that led down below decks. “He wants the thing; shouldn’t he know what it looks like?”
Bill sighed and looked over at the stairs that lead down into the forward hold. “Not a bad idea. I should at least get around to telling him we don’t have the book yet.”
“Wait,” Aven said, jumping down off the barrel. “Let me. I need to ask him about that girl I saw in the manor.”
Bill laughed and clapped him on the back. “Good luck. You know what he’s like.”
-
Aven let out a deep sigh and made his way down into the dim light of the hold. He stopped and knocked twice on a door that had ‘KEEP OUT’ burned directly into the wood. “Tsen! It’s Aven, I have to talk to you!” The sound of a multitude of locks being undone rattled through the door and it slowly creaked open. Portholes on either side of the room were open, letting sunlight and fresh sea air drift in. Four unlit lanterns hung from the ceiling, gently swaying in time with the ship. A narrow cot with a ratty pillow was wedged against one wall, while on the other side was a desk that a man sat hunched over.
“Since you have to talk, I assume you failed to retrieve the book,” Tsen grumbled, not looking up. His feather pen danced over a clean sheet of paper as he glanced between it and the pile of tattered parchment on the desk. Resting on the floor next to him was what looked like a column made of brass, rising as high as the desk.
Aven bit his lip, knowing by now it was pointless to ask him to stop his scribbling. “You’re right. There were problems, I couldn’t lay my hands on it.”
“Is it lost for good?” Tsen asked, making a flourish with his pen and looking up. He was bald, clean shaven, his skin was the color and texture of a rumpled burlap sack. Narrow, purple eyes locked on Aven, topped by bushy, pure white eyebrows. “Headless Bill spoke very highly of you. I hope I have not made this long journey for nothing.”
“No, I still have a chance,” Aven said, approaching the short, elderly man, careful to not hit his head on one of the hanging lanterns. “I couldn’t get it out because there were a lot of books in the vault and you didn’t tell me what it looked like.”
“Don’t shift blame,” Tsen said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s considered bad form almost everywhere.
“I-“ Aven started before Tsen cut him off.
“If we’re going to stay in this subject, I don’t recall you asking me what it looked like,” Tsen said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Even if you did, it would be irrelevant. I don’t know what it looks like.”
Aven scowled and met Tsen’s eyes. “If you don’t know what it looks like, how do you know it’s here?”
“Because it’s a copy,” Tsen sighed. “The original was destroyed twenty years ago in the siege of Zi Nal. Monks from the Ulnen Temple made a copy, but no one recorded exactly what medium the copy was made with. It could be a book, a scroll or a roll of wooden strips.”
“That’s going to be a problem, the vault had all of those,” Aven said, scratching his neck. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can tell me?”
“This is most perplexing, could you explain why you think I am withholding information from you?” Tsen said, drumming his fingers faster.
Aven clenched his fists and took a breath. “I can’t steal every book in that vault, I need to know what it looks like. Maybe you could come with me this time.”
Tsen stopped drumming his fingers and scoffed. “Absolutely not. I haven’t lived as long as I have by giving states reason to track me down. If Headless Bill wants his favor, you’ll have to get that book without involving me,” he said, turning back to his work.
“Fine,” Aven snapped, turning on his heel and getting halfway to the door before he remembered the girl with glowing eyes. “Wait, I have something else I need to know.”
“Is it about the book?” Tsen asked from his desk.
“No. Sort of,” Aven shrugged. “I think I encountered an Atemzl Priestess when I was escaping the mansion, her eyes were glowing.”
“What’s your question?” Tsen asked, ending his line with another flourish.
“What did she see?” asked Aven.
“What are you offering?” replied Tsen, setting his quill into its inkpot.
Aven scowled. “This has to do with the job, why can’t you just tell me?”
Tsen cocked his head to one side. “You’re old enough to know nothing comes free.”
“Yatan ma,” Aven sighed, sitting on Tsen’s cot and casting his eyes upward. “How the Ikkin Iron Works builds their locks and how to crack them.”
“You already told me that,” Tsen said. “As well as how the Ikend, Ikolo, Yat Sel and Grandmaster Oholo locks are constructed and defeated.”
Aven blinked, thinking back to the long journey west. Tsen was right, and now he was out of locks to offer. “Uh,” he said, wracking his brain for some bit of information the crotchety old scribe wouldn’t know.
“There is only so much daylight…” Tsen said, glancing out the porthole.
“What about an island that isn’t on any charts?” Aven offered.
Tsen narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”
“Five days sail north of Hilt is a little atoll with no trees, only sand and scrub brush,” Aven said, leaning towards Tsen. “It’s far away enough from the normal shipping routes that it doesn’t show up on any maps. But the Vathlanri know about it and use it as an assembly point when they go raiding.”
Tsen was quiet for a moment before he turned to the brass column next to his desk. He turned a handle and pulled up, revealing a pile of hardcover books stacked within. One was pulled out and laid down on the desk. “Five days north of Hilt…” he said with a nod as he flipped through the book. “Does it have a name?
“Sajentari,” said Aven.
Tsen gently closed the book and made a note on the blank paper in front of him. “You want to know what the Atemzl Priestess saw?”
Aven nodded. “I had a mask on. I need to know if she saw anything that could give me away when I go back.”
“That,” Tsen said, replacing the book on its shelf in the brass carrying case. “Is a difficult question. She may not even be a priestess. Atemzl calls their magic Achal and the people who practice it Achali. It’s not only priests who learn it, one simply needs to be a follower to learn. But that has no bearing on your question,” he said, relocking the case. “I cannot tell you what she saw, as they do not all see the same thing. They train their eyes to see different essences to support their spells. It could be she saw your whole soul or nothing at all. I would lean towards the latter.”
“Why?” asked Aven. “How can you be sure?”
“Because you made it back. If this woman had seen something that would identify you, then she would have done so and you would be rotting in prison,” Tsen said, turning back to his desk. “I say with certainty that she saw nothing of importance. Is there any more, or may I return to my work?”
Aven stood up off the cot. “No, that’s it.”
“Good,” said Tsen. “Next time you come in here, please have the book. This wait is growing more tedious by the day.