[Author’s Note – Based on some feedback / input. I did some major hack-and-slash-ing at the original version of this story (found here). Mostly, it’s a combination of structural reordering as well as slashing out some of the “Walls’o’infodump”ing which, in retrospect, I realize was way too much to toss in. It definitely reads better / cleaner, IMHO. Hope you enjoy the new one as much as I do!]
Nonna Torsdottir had been traveling on foot for two Zephyrionths since her odd night’s stay at a caravan rest stop in the woods. That evening, talking with the old man who had not claimed to be one of the gods of her people … but hadn’t claimed not to be one either … had been utterly bizarre. She’d first been shocked by the almost other-than-worldly power displayed as he’d casually snatched one of her thrown hand-axes out of the air as if it weren’t moving. Her shock turned to surprise when he’d showed her his unimaginable traveling companion — a fully grown ice bear she’d apparently met when she was a baby and it was a cub. His later declaration that she had some sort of interesting future fascinated her and given her sufficient strength to resist consuming too much ale or whatever else the cheapest beverage was at the next inn — the next two inns, actually.
After those, though, the … compulsion — for she could not call it anything other — was too great. Once more, she’d had far too much to drink and awoken the next morning, her head agonizing painful and undressed in a bed which was not the one in her room. As she typically found in this situation, there were a few silvers resting on a bedside table, with her clothes tossed haphazardly across her pack and weapons in a pile next to the bed. She was shamefully aware of how alluring her powerful physique, combined with her darker skin, dark hair and silvery eyes always attracted unwanted attention.
Don’t forget the ears … it’s always the ears that really get them curious and snuffling around at you.
Yes, those damned pointed tips on the top of her ears, clearly showing she was not a full-blooded member of her tribe — from which she was long since exiled.
You really need to stop lying to yourself. You exiled yourself and walked away.
That, too, was another truth she was unable to bear contemplating and so she continued to drown her memories and sense of shame in alcohol and as much distance, physical and otherwise, from her past as she could.
The two Zephyrionths since that rest stop had been, as always, without any sort of destination in mind — simply following a randomly chosen road out of town, knowing it would lead, soon enough, to the next tavern or inn. Between occasional honest work and those damned bed-side coins, she was able to survive — barely — but survive she did. This moment, perhaps, her journeys had reached a possible ending point?
The road she was on descended slowly towards the end of a valley. And, there, at the other end of the valley, opening up to a water-filled … Bay? Harbor? One of those words, right? … was the one location everyone, everywhere, had heard of, although most never visited — Kethyras, City of the Ascendant Moons. It was so named for the dancing couple in the night skies, Zephyrion, the bright suitor, and Nyktorine, the elusive darker maiden.
Calling the city ‘famous’ would be far too … positive … for all of the varied stories told about everything which occurred in it. And here it was, displayed before her in its … ‘glory’, again, would be far from the correct term. The words ‘immorality’ and ‘decadence’ were probably far better suited.
Before she continued down the road, she lifted her water-skin and took a deep draught of the last of the strong ale it contained. She was certain somewhere ahead, there had to be an inn with ale both plentiful and cheap enough to slake her thirst. And either the twinned hand-axes at her belt or the great-axe strapped to her pack would probably be sufficient to keep the male dogs from sniffing too closely until she had consumed large quantities first.
A couple of glasses later, she had, indeed, found an inn just within the official boundaries of Kethyras. The ale was barely drinkable but, at a copper-and-half per mug, much too pricey for her to enjoy as much of it as she needed. From listening to other patrons, she overheard that this inn was located in the outskirts of the Clearcross Terrace district. And this route was used by so many merchant caravans and other peddlers and tinkers entering or leaving the city. As such, the innkeeper desired to harvest as much coin as possible before weary travelers learned of the cheaper options available further in.
Listening further, she also understood the surroundings which might be closer to what she desired were closer to Claymarket, but not in that area itself. So long as she didn’t venture beyond Clearcross and into the Market itself, the ale wouldn’t be brewed with gutter-water and she was unlikely to be assaulted on sight. On the other hand, if she were clear-minded, the Market might provide an opportunity to use her axes and demonstrate her combat prowess.
Thanking the barmaid, she hoisted her pack once again, and strode deeper toward the harbor. The buildings were well-kept, although the level of such upkeep did noticeably decrease the closer she came to the edge of Claymarket. This drop in building quality was paired with an equally noticeable rise in the pungent odor of the environment. Finally going as far as her nose could reasonably tolerate while still mostly sober, she found another tavern, this one hidden on a side street. The ales available here were either a half-copper or quarter-copper per mug, so she sat at an empty table, slammed a few coppers down on the table and told the barmaid to keep her mug filled with the cheap stuff so long as there were coins on the table and she was still conscious.
Once all the coins had vanished, Nonna discovered she was still conscious — quite relaxed, but conscious nevertheless. Not wanting, just yet, to sit and drink until she finally did pass out, and with no other plans, she decided to see more of the streets before the sun vanished for the day. She was tempted to venture into Claymarket in search of someone who might wish to try their luck against her in combat, but realized it probably wasn’t the wisest choice just now.
Given her current lack of anything resembling sobriety, she would hate to run the risk of being on the losing side. And there was always the possibility the City Watchmen might show up. And one never knew which side they’d be on, or if they’d decide everyone was at fault and solve the problem by tossing anyone even on the scene into a gaol.
On the other hand, she’d never seen the sea before, not even the edge of one, so she decided to head to the docks as her next destination.
Standing very unsteadily, she hoisted her pack once more and staggered, wobbling back and forth heading as she asked for directions, then headed out the door and back onto the street. Getting herself oriented, she turned northeastward towards the water, lurching somewhat to keep from collapsing just yet — there was time enough for that later. The trading and market area was obvious and then, on the other side, she got a sharper hint of the salty air she’d been told was the scent of the water. Winding her way back and forth around the buildings, something caught her attention out of the corner of one eye. She stopped and turned to look, struggling to understand what she could make out in the dimming light.
Partway down a side alley she spotted a man and … a young girl? The girl’s hood was pushed back from her head and her hair shone silver as the light caught it. The man in front of her was much taller than the girl, and the two were clearly in the middle of some sort of heated argument, probably with a very poor outcome for the girl. It was all too far away for Nonna to hear any of what was being said. But she’d seen this sort of confrontation often in the past. She had been a part of such a confrontation a few times.
The only way she could interpret what she was was to see the girl being threatened and in danger of being dragged off to a stranger’s bed — or worse.
Feeling as heroic and honorable as ever she had when she’d been a warrior of her tribe, Nonna judged the distance between them to be about twenty-five paces. She knew she was skilled at throws of easily twice that and had no worries about being able to rescue the young girl. After slowly and quietly tugging one of the hand-axes from where it hung at her belt, she held it in front of her and took careful aim. Pulling her arm back, she shouted at the man, and then whipped her hand and arm forward, throwing her full body weight behind the throw.
The axe spun through the air, flying true. Hearing Nonna’s shout, both the man and the girl turned towards her just in time for the axe to embed itself deeply in the man’s forehead — killing him instantly — and he dropped to the ground as a puppet with its strings abruptly cut.
Intensely pleased with herself, Nonna strode forward with a big grin on her face to retrieve her axe. To her surprise, as she drew closer, she noticed the girl did not seem happy at being rescued and, instead, was standing there clenching and unclenching her fists.
Once she was just a couple of paces away, Nonna spoke first, her words slurred somewhat, “It’s all right, girl. The bad man won’t hurt you now. You’re safe.”
Mage Helene Fabry had been working diligently to resolve this latest request submitted to the Sanctuary. It had come from one of the families ‘on the Crest’, meaning Photeinon Crest on the southeast edge of the city— which meant the purse would be sizable and filled with golds. Sure enough, the amount the Keeper stated the price for accepting the request was eighty golds. The Hazerun patriarch, Brynmor, had agreed without discussion or argument.
The eldest son of the Hazeruns, Christopher, had gone missing over a five-day ago. A note had been delivered demanding several hundred golds with the statement, “We know it’s significantly less than you have and certainly more than this stupid piece of meat is worth.”
The message of ‘deliver the gold … or else’ had been clear even if not explicitly stated.
Needless to say, Brynmor Hazerun was not about to allow his family, or indeed, anyone on the Crest, to be blackmailed like this — certainly not by someone who wasn’t of at least equal standing, at which point it would simply have been part of the political games the Crest families played with each other. And for the demand to be something as ‘low and crass’ as coins was unthinkable, in Brynmor’s world. Thus, Brynmor himself had traveled to the Sanctuary (complete with guarded carriage and servants to clear his walking path of any trash or speck of dirt which might be present) to deliver the request in person.
After the Keeper called her in to consider the request, Helene had been entranced by the thought of her portion of the payment – sixty-four of those golds, which was more than sufficient to cover her expected contributions to the Sanctuary for several Zephyrionths. Consequently, it had been an easy, if hasty, decision at the time.
However, for all of Helene’s efforts, she could find no trace of any sort regarding what might have happened to young Christopher.
She scoffed to herself, “Pfft. Young! The kid’s seventeen. Not nearly all that young.”
The only lead of any sort which seemed to exist was one of the Hazerun’s servants, a man named Titus Rovito.
Rovito was usually waiting on ‘Young’ Christopher and shortly before his disappearance the two had been seen at the Hazerun mansion on the Crest deep in conversation. When questioned regarding these conversations, Rovito had responded that his master had asked him about what life was like ‘down in the lower city’, and he’d done his best to answer.
Which explained why she was here, just as evening was about to fall, carefully and quietly following the servant as he wound his way through the streets and alleys of the merchant-heavy Gateway district of the city, but for some reason not stopping at any of the shops. Neither did he seem to be on his way to visit someone, leaving Helene curious about his destination..
Helene used the barest touches of wind to keep any sounds she made heading away from Rovito as she followed him. For reasons she had yet to determine, he kept edging closer to the Docks and then veering away, as if concerned someone might see him heading there. He was, however, slowly getting closer and closer.
Just as the sun was low over the valley to the west, he seemed to make up his mind and started turning corners much more sharply and increased his pace.
“Ah, ha, little rabbit. Decided to run, have you?”, she mused to herself.
Helene didn’t believe she’d been spotted, but the sudden change in activity certainly seemed to bear further inquiry.
Another quick gesture and a small “localized” air bubble wrapped itself around her, allowing her to move much faster than she might otherwise. She’d pay for that later when the effort hit her, but for now, she knew she couldn’t lose him. Sure enough, he was headed into the Docks now.
“Ok, time for some direct questions,” she told herself.
Dashing forward, she caught up to him and used a quick blast of air to shove him into an alley. The sudden assault surprised him, leaving him dazed and giving her the opportunity to rush up to confront him. She dispersed the air bubble before she got too close, and as she ran forwards her hood fell back from her head, allowing her silvery locks to flutter before settling around her head,
In the alley, she faced him, demandingly. “What do we have here, hmm? A Crest servant, sneaking around in the Docks only days after his master has disappeared and a ransom note delivered? I have to wonder whether these things are connected in some fashion.”
As he recovered, Rovito darted his eyes around and soon realized the only person nearby was this little girl. And he was not about to take seriously any sort of questioning accusation being hurled at him by a child a head shorter than he was.
He leaned forward, menacingly. “Look, girlie, I’m on personal business. Ain’t no concern of yours. Now scram, ya got it!?!”
Just then, both of them heard a yell from the open end of the alley and turned towards it … immediately followed by a small spinning hand-axe landing dead center in Rovito’s forehead, splitting his skull and dropping him to the ground.
Helene looked down at the body.
“No. This can’t be,” she whispered, her voice harsh in the back of her throat as she clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration at this development.
Turning back, she saw a taller woman with dark hair walking … well, more like staggering toward her. This woman was smiling at having just killed a man in cold blood.
As she got closer, the other woman grinned and said, “It’s all right, girl. The bad man won’t hurt you now. You’re safe.”
Helene couldn’t believe her ears. No civilized person could do this. This … this … barbarian … had not only murdered the servant without a thought, but had done so because she thought Helene needed saving?
“What have you done?” Helene screamed at her. “I needed him alive, you idiot! He was my only lead on this!”
Unable to contain her anger any longer, she gestured quickly, conjuring a disk of water and a propelling blast of air to slam it into the woman’s chest, hurling her against the wall. When Nonna hit, her head snapped backwards and then she, too, dropped to the ground. Getting herself under control once more, Helene stepped forward to make sure she hadn’t killed the woman — two bodies would only make matters worse. Thankfully, she wasn’t dead, just unconscious — although it wasn’t clear whether that was from the impact or, based on how her breath stank, the obviously massive amount of alcohol she’d consumed. She turned away from the woman to consider the situation.
Given his current state, one thing was certain — Rovito was not about to answer any questions. But she didn’t like the thought of leaving his body just in the middle of an alley in the Docks. If he was connected to the Hazerun son’s disappearance, this would be too suspicious and could alert the kidnappers they were being hunted. Alternately, if he wasn’t connected, the obvious murder of a servant might be just as worrisome and still could result in them thinking they were being hunted. Neither outcome was an acceptable result. On the other hand … if the servant were to just … disappear? If that were to occur, who could possibly say where he might have gone?
She sighed and knew she had to get to work before anyone else walking by happened to spot what was going on. This was going to be extremely tiring, but there was no getting around it if she wanted to keep anyone else from discovering what had taken place here. A couple of gestures and a dirt tub was summoned around the body, simultaneously lifting it off the ground and sheltering it from view. After a bit of effort and no small amount of grunting, she was able to pry the small axe from the man’s head — the woman who threw it was far stronger and more skilled than was readily apparent.
It was important to leave absolutely no trace, so the blade needed to be thoroughly cleansed. This required combining small touches of fire and water to the blade, leaving it spotless. Once it was gleaming, she took it over to the unconscious woman and slid it into the empty belt loop which was clearly the twin of the one on her other hip, holding an identical axe.
Back to the corpse, she pondered further. It would be almost impossible to use her Powers to dispose of anything metallic, so those needed to be removed first. Feeling as if she had become an uncomfortable blend of petty thief and grave robber, she searched through his garments. She was surprised to discover an excessively full coin pouch on his belt. Peering inside, she saw it contained a mix of several golds, perhaps up to 70 or 80, with a few silvers tossed in as well.
“Hmm… And just what were you doing with this many golds?” she mused softly as she tucked the pouch into a pocket of her cloak. “Regardless, you won’t be needing these any more.”
She felt justified in keeping them as the necessary payment for the expenditure of Powers required to clean this up.
Searching further, she removed his belt buckle and three buttons from his vest. These went into a different pocket to be dealt with later. She wanted to examine them in better light to see if there was any sort of distinctive markings on them although she doubted they’d reveal anything. Other than those items, everything else remaining was flesh or cloth or leather. Not looking forward to the effort this would demand, but knowing she couldn’t delay further, she rubbed her hands together in preparation and began fixing in her mind the necessary complex gestures.
She started with fire, but continued building more and more into the same summoning — keeping it tightly contained. This served to create an intense heat which she directed back and forth across the body. Within barely a tenth of a glass, nothing was left within the earthen tub except a large pile of ashes and the bones, which had fused into the hardened and crusted dirty clay. Dismissing the fire since it was no longer needed, she slumped against the wall, drained from the effort of maintaining a summoning of that intensity for that long.
A conspicuous tub of clay in a random alley would draw too much attention. She smiled briefly in memory of an often-recited adage from her years at The Hub, “What Powers bring forth, Powers can dismiss.”
Thankfully, with the bones bare and fused into the tub, they were now easily manipulated as being part of the tub itself. A few quick gestures and the tub dissolved, disappearing back into the ground from where it had been summoned, taking the bones with it and leaving only the pile of ashes in the middle of the alley. It would be best to summon a blast of air to disperse the ash as well, but she was already feeling somewhat light-headed from the fire and knew doing so might be too much for her just now.
Still resting against the wall, Helene reached into a pocket in her cloak and pulled out a chunk of dried meat to gnaw on. It was almost as tough as leather, and she couldn’t recall how long ago she’d tucked it in there, but even the small amount of energy it provided should suffice to get her through the rest of what else needed to be done and allow her to make it back home so she could properly collapse … at least so long as she didn’t need to use much more of her Powers.
With all visible evidence now destroyed or about to dissipate in the next stiff breeze, and as worn out as she felt, she was extremely tempted to simply walk away and leave the woman to her fate — she had intruded where she was neither needed nor wanted and potentially destroyed her best chance to fulfill the request and receive the reward purse.
But that would be too cruel. Her conscience would not allow her to simply walk away.
On top of which, there was the heavy purse she’d just taken, somewhat guiltily, from Rovito. As unpleasant as it was to think about, that purse was already more than what she would receive as her part of the promised fulfillment reward. And since he was already dead and she was likely to lose the reward anyway … she tried not to consider the extent to which she was justifying robbing him of it.
Sighing with the realization of what she must do, she pushed herself off the wall and stepped into the street to look around. Several buildings down, she saw a street urchin kicking at stones. She whistled loudly and beckoned him to come over. He stopped close, but not within distance for her to grab — there were always stories of children disappearing from the streets — and shouted, “Yah? What you want, lady?”
Pulling a copper from her pouch, she held it up for him to see. “Go down by the docks. Find a longshoreman or someone who looks like he’s waiting for work. Tell him there’s a Mage who wants his assistance and there’s a silver in it for him. If he asks, just say I’ve got a …” She glanced back into the alley then back to the boy. “A large parcel I need carried back to my residence.”
The boy’s eyes went wide at hearing she was a Mage and then darted back and forth. “And the copper you’re holding?”
“Yours … once you return with a man willing to earn a silver.”
Without another word, he darted off in the direction of the docks. A tenth later, he returned, practically dragging a much larger and burly man by the sleeve. “I gots’ him, lady! He said he’ll work.”
The man looked her up and down. “Mage, eh? I guess that’s you, huh? Heard stories ‘bout Mages. A’int never seen one, a’fore.”
He dug in his ear with his little finger. “Need something hauled, the kid said?”
She nodded at the man as she tossed the copper coin at the boy who caught it and ran away. “Yes. There’s a woman in the alleyway here. She … surprised me at the wrong moment and I may have knocked her out as a result. Or, given how her breath smells, she may just have passed out. Either way, I am uncomfortable with simply leaving her sleeping in a gutter like this. I’d like you to carry her to my house. It’s in Clearcross, just the other side of the Grove. A silver once we get there.”
“Not that I don’ trust you, but … lemme see the silver now, miss.”
She pulled a silver out of her pouch and showed it to him. “There you are. Nice and shiny. Just waiting for you to claim it.”
“A’ight. She’s just ‘ere in the alley?” He stepped forward to look. “Ey’! What’s with all the axes she got?”
“As far gone as she is right now, I doubt she’s in any shape to use them.” Helene was studiously ignoring how deadly accurate that hand-axe throw had been — best not to think of that just now. “Any other questions?”
“Ya care how’s I carry her? Like, do I gots’ ta’ be gentle and princess carry her or some shite? I normally just haul sacks of grain and the like. They don’ ever complain how I carry ‘em.”
“Feel free to throw her over your shoulder if that’s the easiest. Just be warned — don’t try to feel her up.”
“I gots’ a wife at home. Don’ need another gal on the side.” That said, he stepped into the alley, lifted the woman up and tossed her over his shoulder like she was a sack of feathers. “Lead on, Miss Mage.”
“All right. I’ll go with you as you carry her. Pardon me if I pause every now and then to rest. I’m quite tired at the moment.
Nonna woke slowly the next morning. As consciousness returned, she became aware of several things, some far too ordinary, with others significantly less so.
First, of course, was how much her head hurt. That was all too common, but the sensitive bump on the back of her head was a surprise.
Next, she was laying in a bed and couldn’t recall getting a room at an inn. Finding herself waking up in a stranger’s room — again, far too common.
From there, though, the typical elements quickly began to disappear. The mattress underneath her body and the pillow on which her head rested were comfortable to the point of making her feel as if she were floating on a cloud. And there was a definite scent to the pillow and even the entire room which was extremely … the only word she could possibly think to describe it was feminine. While this had happened once or twice in the past, it was an extremely rare occurrence.
Beyond that, and to her extreme surprise and bewilderment, she realized she was still dressed. Her boots were off and when she cracked an eye open, she saw them resting next to a chair in the room. Opening that eye a little more to peer around, she saw her two hand-axes resting on the bedside table, but, compounding the surprise, the customary coins were not present next to them
As she gazed around still more with just the one eye, she spotted her pack, complete with her great-axe, leaning against the chair and then, even more surprising, what appeared to be a very young girl with silvery hair sound asleep in the chair. Rather than allowing herself to fall back to sleep, she forced her other eye open and pulled the covers back. As much as she didn’t want to leave a bed quite this comfortable, her intense curiosity about what else could have possibly happened the previous night forced her to rise.
She swung her legs over the side to slowly — and unsteadily — rise to her feet. She was unwilling to wake the stranger in the chair, not without as much information as she could gather. Grabbing her axes, she silently slid them into the loop axe-holsters at her belt, and then slid her feet across the floor to peer out the curtained window. As far as she could tell, based on the style of the buildings she saw, she was still in Kethyras and, apparently, in a nice enough area. The hint of the sea and lack of an overwhelmingly disgusting odor which came through the slightly open window confirmed this assessment.
As she debated what to do next, she realized she desperately needed to use a chamberpot, so she turned around to look under the bed. One of her hand-axes bumped into the chair and made a loud enough sound to rouse the sleeping girl. Nonna paused to look much more closely as the girl slowly woke and realized she’d been wrong. This was not a girl at all, but an extremely young looking woman.
The stranger woke, stretching her arms above her, then looked at Nonna. “Ah. I guess we’re both awake now, hmm?”
Unsure what might have possibly happened, Nonna simply responded, “Yeah. I just woke up. Um … I don’t remember anything of how I got here, or if I introduced myself when we met.”
The girl chuckled wryly. “No, you hadn’t introduced yourself.”
Nonna shook her head with the sense she shouldn’t be nameless like this in someone else’s home.
“Nonna Torsdottir.”
An uncomfortable pause before she continued, asking what felt like a delicate question, “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a pot in this room?”
“A pot? Oh, you mean … There isn’t one. Just go out the door turn left and then it’s the first door to the right. It’s a privy — all in a separate room, and it’s not a pot. There are some clean rags to wipe with if you need to. Just toss them down the hole after. I’ll take care of everything later.”
“Take care of … Are you the maid, miss?”
“Maid? Hardly. Helene Fabry. Well, technically it’s Lady Fabry, although these days, I usually go by Mage Fabry. Just call me Helene. I’ll burn it all to ash later. I must have passed out right after the longshoreman carried you here.”
“Mage? Longshoreman? Carried me? I … I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Helene ignored her apparent confusion. “You said you needed to use a pot?”
“Oh, right.” Her body requirements overwhelmed her lack of comprehension, so she followed the directions she’d been given and found the specified door. Once she was finished — using a single rag and tossing it into the hole as she’d been told to do — she returned to the room.
While she’d been gone, Helene had changed her clothes and was again seated, waiting for her. Nonna wasn’t great at judging other people, but Helene appeared to be quite tired.
“Y-You said you could burn everything there to ash? I’ve never met a … an Ignimage before.”
Helene chuckled. “You still haven’t. I’ve got more than just fire. Don’t worry about it. At the moment, though, I am in need of food almost to the point of starvation. The efforts of last night were draining which is why I so quickly and easily passed out the instant I sat down. Since I am responsible for you being here, would you care to join me in breaking my fast and I can explain everything then?”
“Y-Yes, of course. Let me get my boots on first?”
“Go ahead. I’ll go grab my cloak. Leave your pack here, by the way. We’ll come right back afterwards. Meet me at the front door. To the left again, but then through the door at the end of the hallway.”
With that, Helene stood and walked out of the room.
After pulling her boots on and quickly lacing them, Nonna looked briefly at her pack, then decided she would follow what the Mage had told her to do and left it there. Returning to the hallway, she turned left. Stepping through the ajar door at the end, she suddenly found herself in a large entryway. To the left was a large archway into what could only be an office space, complete with a desk and a couple bookcases against the walls. These appeared to be jammed full of books and scrolls with more piled atop the desk.
Helene stood by the front door, a cloak pulled over her shoulders with the hood pushed back. “Most of the time I wear the hood up because my hair is distinctive and … I’m not all too comfortable with being quite so noticeable. Since we’re going together, I will leave it down. I don’t wish to appear unsocial.”
“No, please … wear it however you’re comfortable. I’m still very lost and trying to understand any of this.”
“It’s quite all right. For just now, leaving it down is fine.”
With that, the pair stepped outside. Helene paused to pat around in her cloak and, after a couple of grains pulled forth a key to lock the door. “Honestly, I almost never use this. Usually just a quick earth cast to seal it, but with how tired I am, I feel as though I would pass out before I completed it.”
“So, y-you’re also a Terromage? I … I’m sorry. I don’t know the right term for fire and earth together.”
Nonna was stuttering badly and almost on the edge of cowering in fear. In all her travels, she’d never encountered a Mage. Single affinity Mages were rare and double-affinity even more so.
Helene chuckled in response and started slowly walking, assuming Nonna would walk as well.
“No, I’m actually a full Quadrimage. So — all four.”
Nonna stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the street, suddenly utterly terrified at just how much power this young woman must be capable of wielding. She had never even heard whispers of there being a Quadrimage in any recent history.
Helene beckoned her to stay with her. “Please relax. I’m not about to blast you apart. I had that chance last night and refrained. Please? I so rarely have company for any meals, and it might be nice to have someone else to dine with. And as much as you’ve complicated matters, I’m the one who knocked you unconscious last night.”
Confused by the circumstances, but with no reason not to join the other woman, Nonna caught up in just a few strides and the two resumed walking together. As they continued down the street, Helene commented, “In case you hadn’t figured it out, this is Clearcross Terrace, although very close by, back that way,” tilting her head over her shoulder and flicking it to indicate the other direction, “is Middlecross Grove. Thankfully, this area is nice and isn’t insanely expensive, so I rent a combined office and residence here.”
“I … I just arrived in the city yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday?”
“You were only out for the night, so that seems likely.” Helene found herself smiling. The two of them seemed to be approximately the same age but the other woman, Nonna, was so much less composed than she was.
“So, yes, I’m a full Quadrimage. From the records back at The Hub, there hasn’t been one in a few generations.”
Her tone shifted to indicate sadness and loss. “After graduating, I discovered I couldn’t return home. I didn’t want to live at or near The Hub, so I wound up moving here, where I’ve been for a few years.”
“A-and something happened last night so you had to knock me out?”
“Well — as to that… Ah, here we are.” Helene pointed to the sign over a door.
“The Faded Garden. No idea why they persist in calling it that. The garden here is quite vibrant. I come here most mornings, as they have excellent breads and pastries and their meats and cheeses are good as well. Let’s get inside and place our orders and then I can … refresh your memory regarding events of yesterday.”
Once inside, Helene gave a small smile and quick nod to the woman behind the bar and one of the serving girls, then walked through to the back, into a small garden area. The plants here were vibrantly alive with the flowers adding a colorful beauty to the surroundings.
“As I said — no idea why they still call this ‘Faded’. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as pretty and life-filled when I first dined here about three years ago. Nothing a touch of extra water and some fresh earth couldn’t help, though.”
Her eyes sparkled in obvious memory of having been the one responsible for reviving what must have been a failing and dying garden area.
Before they were even seated, a serving girl followed after them. She carried a platter with two small pieces of meat and a roll, which she placed on the table in front of Helene.
“Mage Fabry, good morrow to you. The Mistress said you looked like you were desperately in need of this and I was to insist you begin to eat as soon as you sat down.”
She turned to Nonna. “And good morrow to …?”
“My guest for the moment, Nonna … Torsdottir.”
The girl tugged at her dress and actually curtsied to both of them. Nonna could not remember anyone ever doing that for her, further compounding the novel experiences of the day.
The girl continued, “Would you like to order now?”
Helene swallowed the piece of the roll she’d been chewing. “Yes, please. And would you thank her from me for this.” A small wave of the roll she still held in her hand. “She was absolutely correct about me needing something before I could even think straight.”
“Of course, Mage Fabry. For food, just this morning, the Mistress made some kourou pasties, stuffed with boar meat. And, of course, there’s the usual fiadone with cheese she always makes. Two coppers for the kourou, and one for the fiadone.”
“The kourou sounds good for me, and for you, Nonna?”
“I don’t know. But my mouth is watering already either way.”
“Then make it one kourou for each of us?”
“Of course, Mage Fabry. And to drink? From what the Mistress was saying, I don’t think you should do your usual trick of filling an empty mug with water for yourself, Mage.”
“I believe you are correct. I’ll take a mug of your weakest.”
“And for you, Miss … Nonna?”
“A mug of something alcohol-filled and strong, please. My head is already hurting.”
Helene frowned at this declaration, but nodded at the girl to proceed with the order anyway.
After she left to put the order in, Helene continued. “I know you don’t recall yesterday evening, but I suspect your drinking might be partially responsible for it.”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Nothing … nothing at all. But it did almost get you killed.”
“Never met anyone who could beat me physically. You got the better of me with magic. Haven’t ever run into someone who threw that at me before.”
A lull settled in between the two as Helene finished the meat and roll from the small sampler platter. A twentieth later, the girl returned with two mugs, one full with a layer of foam on top, placed in front of Nonna, and the other also filled, but with only a thin layer of foam, for Helene.
“Thank you,” said both as they picked up their drinks and took long swallows. “I don’t normally have any of the brews here, but please tell the Mistress they’re always good.” A pause. “But not as good as her baking and cooking.”
Helene smiled and the serving girl grinned back. “Of course, Mage. The breads should be out in another tenth. They got put back in the oven so they’d be hot for you.” She curtsied again to both and vanished back into the main area of the tavern, leaving the two of them alone.
Nonna took another drink and put the mug back down. “You may not have ever tried the stronger stuff, but that is good.”
Helene hoped Nonna wouldn’t quickly return to her fully-intoxicated state of the previous evening as she took another small sip from her own mug, letting the very weak ale help recharge her.
“Now, allow me to fill you in about what happened yesterday – what you stumbled into and after you arrived …”
Helene began with the background of explaining how Mage Sanctuaries located in the various cities and large towns received requests and Mages were tasked with fulfilling them, as well as the payment structure, with eighty percent going to the Sanctuary and the other twenty to the Mage.
In the middle of this explanation, the serving girl arrived with twin platters bearing large and overstuffed meat-filled pastries. She placed them on the table and disappeared, leaving them to their conversation.
Both began to eat and Helene continued the explanation, moving on to describe her current task of finding the missing Christopher Hazerun.
With the kourou finished, Helene could feel some of her strength returning. She knew she would be unable to exercise anything even close to her full power, should she need to, for at least another day and expected she would have to have a very full supper later.
Once they finished their initial order, Helene ordered one of the fiadone for herself. Both women also asked for another mug of what they’d each been drinking.
“I hope you won’t return to the same drunken stupor you were in last night.”
“I’ll be fine. This is barely enough to take the edge off from the mysterious bump on the back of my head.”
“Ah, yes. Now that you understand at least some of why I was out yesterday and the general idea of what I was doing, let me tell you the specifics and get to where you so abruptly intruded … and what happened afterwards.”
The next glass was spent with Helene doing just that while she happily ate the cheese-filled fiadone. Nonna, meanwhile, ordered a third mug and listened, first with interest and then growing embarrassment and shame at what she had done and how she had forced Helene to cover up the results. She also understood the extent of the grace Helene had shown by not leaving her unconscious in an alley.
“I … I don’t know what to say. Or if there’s any way I can possibly apologize. I guess I should start by thanking you for taking pity on me and taking me home like a stray cub. I messed up really badly and saw what I wanted to see, thinking I could be a hero, rushing in to save a girl who was in trouble. Obviously, I’m regretful. I wish I could say the drink was at fault, but I also know I’m the one who was drinking and it was my hand-axe.”
Helene dismissed the need to apologize. “What’s done is done. There’s no going back and changing the past.”
Under her breath, she sighed and whispered, “Gods know I wish I could go back far enough to change things in mine.”
Nonna mulled for a moment and then said, “This isn’t an excuse, but … speaking of the past, I … I haven’t ever really spoken of mine to anyone. And I know my past is the reason for most of … how I am now.”
She had never told the story to anyone and no one outside of her tribe, and the mysterious man in that lodge, knew of it. But, somehow, she felt comfortable telling it to the young Mage.
Slowly at first and then more steadily as she realized Helene was not judging her harshly for it, Nonna told what she knew of her birth — of her mother obviously having been either seduced or raped by one of the dokkalfar, neither of which was acceptable to her people.
“That’s why the hair and,” she tugged her hair back from the side of her head for a moment before letting it fall forward again, “the ears.”
Nonna continued her story, telling of how the assault on her mother had been downplayed, but her own appearance made her true parentage clear. She had grown up trained as a warrior in the northern reaches, but continually felt shunned by all of those she thought to be her people.
Unable to bear the weight of guilt being placed on her mere existence as a half-elf among humans, and feeling far too much the outsider, she’d fled in a form of self-exile. Even while telling herself she’d been exiled by others, in her head, she was well aware she’d chosen that path.
While spending the next few years as an adventurer, she had turned to an increasing consumption of alcohol to deaden the emotional pain, leading to the eventual drunken results of waking in strangers’ beds, unclothed and with no memory of the previous night. Those times only served to heap still more shame on herself which could then only be chased away by still more alcohol.
“Much as I hate to admit it, waking in a bed this morning which I hadn’t intended to sleep in felt all too common.”
She smiled somewhat wistfully. “Although, doing so while still clothed and without random coins sitting next to me was a welcome change.”
Helene couldn’t help but feel more than a pang of sympathy for this strange woman who’d burst into her life.
Yes, she had been brutally destructive, but she had meant well. And, buried deep within, there was somewhat of a sense of — she couldn’t call it anything other than “shared disconnect from the world”. Each n their own ways, they were very much outsiders from those around them. Perhaps it was this shared sense which allowed her to feel close enough to also share the tale of her own past.
“My own story is very different, and definitely not nearly as alcohol and strange-bed-filled as yours. Except for the one time just after I turned eleven and had gone through my Awakening.”
Helene proceeded to tell her own story, glad to have even a stranger to divulge it to, as this was not a story she’d ever shared.
She started from the beginning, growing up as the youngest daughter of a minor Baron. Then came the night of her Awakening – although she couldn’t remember anything but the very end of it.
After going to sleep, feeling a bit more tired than usual, she’d woken in the shambles of her room which looked as if a herd of raging beasts had torn it apart. The maids, fear glimmering in their eyes, were cleaning her legs and nether regions of blood and dressing her for travel. In the hallway, she had overheard the conversation between her mother and a strange man.
He’d explained he was a Mage who’d detected her Awakening and burst into the mansion to help get her rampaging Powers under control. He insisted he must take her with him that very night. No one in the mansion had any experience with Mages before, so ultimately there had been no choice.
A tear-filled hug from her mother was the last clear memory she had of that evening.
The following days were filled with hurried travel from Sanctuary to Sanctuary, with complex protective wards being inked on her limbs each night.
Finally reaching The Hub in Magorethia, she had been tested to determine her affinities and then undergone the long process of Binding with its endless hours and days of painful permanent tattoos being applied to her arms and legs, intermixed with excruciating hot iron brands to seal the Binds.
As she recounted the steps involved for Binding, Nonna was clearly horrified.
“All Mages go through that? No healing or anything to dull the pain?”
“The Desmofilakoi – the Binders – insisted anything like that would interfere with the purity of the Binds and might leave me Unbound or with incomplete control. Unbound, I would be a walking disaster to myself and everything around me. And gods forbid I not have full control over my affinities, of course.”
Helene twitched as she recalled those days. “They just kept telling me it was for the best and I needed to be tough and endure it. Easy enough to tell someone else. Quite different when you’re an eleven-year-old girl who feels as though you’ve just been kidnapped from your family and told you won’t be allowed outside of the place you’ve been taken until you graduate.”
“I — I can’t even imagine it.” Nonna took another look at Helene. “Is … Is that why you wear long sleeves and trousers? I think I’ve heard that’s the way most Mages dress.”
“Yes. Almost every Mage I’ve ever met does. Few of us think they’re particularly pleasant to look at, especially as they’re a constant reminder of the process.” She felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes and wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“After Binding, came all of the affinity training. First I had to learn each one separately, then how to combine them. All the training material they had was either single- or dual-affinity, though. The instructors had to dig through the archives hunting for anything regarding anything beyond that.
“Eventually they ran out of material they could find, so the instructors just kept making things up to see if they could be more clever than I was. Most of the time, I was able to figure something out. But every time I missed was yet another opportunity for them to cluck at me and rant about how ‘talented’ I was and how I had to become even more capable.”
Helene shuddered at the memory of the years of verbal abuse she’d had to endure in furtherance of her training as a Mage.
“On top of that, because they wouldn’t want an uneducated Mage out in the world, we also had formal educations in reading and writing and numbers and such. That was heaped on top of the Mage training, so the days were endless and I rarely had a break. It was only towards the end when I started to appreciate the non-Mage education — which is why I still pursue it even now and have a small library of scrolls and books at home.
“Then, as you can guess, I was not exactly well-regarded by other students. When the instructors would drag me in front of every class and insist I show off, it just made me a target of envy and hatred.
“Finally, after seven years, they couldn’t figure out anything else to put me through, so they officially graduated me and said I was a fully-trained Quadrimage. Handed me a pouch to prevent me from living on the streets or preying on everyone, they said. All I knew was being a Mage in training and a budding scholar, though.”
She shook her head at how, even now, she had little experience dealing with the real world and those around her.
“I was given a horse and told I could go wherever I might want. After so long, though, there was only one place I wanted to go. I desperately wanted to see my mother and father and sister again – to show them I’d survived what had happened and even grown from the experience.”
Helene began breaking down from the weight of the emotions rushing back, tears forming and a sob catching in her throat. She took a deep breath to steady herself and keep from crying.
“I returned to the mansion grounds. The building was in ruins from a fire years before with all my family trapped inside. The Viscount reclaimed the Barony and the Earl approved. I had nothing left of my family.”
Nonna felt her heart breaking at hearing of Helene’s loss.
“That was three years ago. With nowhere else to go, I somewhat aimlessly came here to see the city and wound up staying. I’ve made a decent living, using my Powers to fulfill Sanctuary requests. I had to learn where everything is in the city, which is why I was pointing some of it out on the way here. Beyond that, I … I don’t really go out much. Given my history at The Hub, I’m not very comfortable around most people, Mage or non-Mage. Aside from the Keeper and the Sanctuary Stewards, I don’t think I’ve spoken this much to another in years.”
A soft chuckle, then she continued, “There’s a couple of places, like here, I frequent for eating. And occasionally, I need to find a seamstress to get a garment mended or something new … or a cobbler for shoes.”
Helene paused to think. “When I first arrived, the Keeper or one of the Stewards would invite me out to dine. But, after that first Nyktorninian or so, I can’t recall eating with anyone else the whole time I’ve been here. As I said, I don’t usually get along too well with most people. I could probably pretend, some of the time, since I was raised as the youngest daughter of a Baron, but even that memory is so very far in the distant past.”
They spent the next quarter-glass in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts, contemplating their own and each other’s past and the ways in which they were very similar — but also very different.
Finally, Helene pushed her chair back to leave.
“Enough of that. I still need to figure out where the young Hazerun has wandered off to and have precious little to go on, unfortunately.”
Nonna pushed her own chair back as well, and began opening her purse. Helene waved the offer away, then pulled two silvers from her own purse and tossed them onto the table.
“No, no. I insist. This was my invitation, after all, and they treat me very well here, as you saw.”
“I don’t want to intrude — even more than I already did by blundering into things yesterday — but, maybe I could help with finding him? I don’t know anything about the city, obviously, but I’m not … terrible … when talking with other people. Maybe I could help you that way? You could show me around Kethyras and I could do some asking? I mean, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that a lot of things get said in taverns.”
Helene looked at Nonna and thought about her offer.
“All right. But! You’ve already had a few mugs. To keep both of us from going crazy, I absolutely forbid you from getting into the same state you were in yesterday!”
While she had a stern expression on her face, the corners of her eyes tugged upwards hinting at a smile hiding beneath the surface.
“As you command, Mage Fabry.”
“Hush! I told you before — call me Helene, please?”
The two left The Faded Garden and returned, briefly, to Helene’s house. They were there long enough for her to gather her sparse notes and for both of them to use the privy. Helene also took the time to use a sparing amount of fire applied to the contents thereof, incinerating them. All of that done, they left — this time, with Helene using her “trick” of a conjured earth lock on the front door.
“I’m still not sure how any of that works, but, as you’ve already figured out, I tend to just drink and hit things.”
“Yes, I had noticed.”
Both shared a quiet laugh.
“It’s easy enough to dismiss, if you have earth Powers, and you know it’s there.”
This time, Helene pulled her hood up over her head.
“I know this may seem like I’m trying to ignore you, but I do get a bit uncomfortable wandering around the city just … uncovered, and open without it up.”
That said, they began walking the streets of Kethyras.
As they did, Helene told Nonna what she knew of the city and the areas they walked through. And, every second or third tavern they encountered, Nonna would insist they enter — “for information gathering, of course.”
Keeping to her word, Nonna refrained from ordering the strongest brew available,, and Helene surreptitiously lightened the mugs, dispelling some of the contents and replacing them with an equal amount of water. Her cloak allowed her to hide the gestures involved in this manipulation. And, in each location, Nonna would chat with the barmaids and some of the other patrons, then, after just one mug, apologize about how she had to be on her way.
They had been through five such stops and were walking away when Nonna commented, “Gotta say this about Kethyras. Aside from the places I was at yesterday and that garden place, the brews are tasty, but they sure water them down a lot. Not sure I’ve had such consistently ruined mugs in my life.”
Helene felt her cheeks grow warm and bashfully answered, “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I really would like to keep you sober for this. I’ve been discarding some of the contents of each and replacing it with water to keep it as full.”
“That’s why! I couldn’t figure out why everyone wasn’t complaining about them. Please, stop? I promise I will limit myself to just one mug per tavern. And if I start to get … wobbly … we can stop for the day, right?”
“All right. I will stop, for now. But as soon as you don’t stop when you need to, while we’re doing this, I’m turning them all to water, got it?”
With a bow, Nonna said, “As you say, Mage Fabry.”
Helene couldn’t help but smile softly as she responded, “I already told you — cut that out! It’s Helene!”
At the end of that first day, Nonna shifted her pack into a spare room at Helene’s house and settled in. She found herself enjoying the luxury of a bed she could, at least for the moment, call her own, with a room she could do likewise.
Helene, meanwhile, gradually became comfortable with the idea of sharing a household with someone who was becoming a friend — much to the surprise of both.
The next several days proceeded much as that first one had — breaking their fast at the Faded Garden and then wandering around different areas of the city. While Nonna continued to be amazed at all the city held — from the Docks, where she wanted to linger for several glasses, simply gazing out into the bay and wondering what existed far beyond, to the myriad of stores and other sellers of goods throughout Gateway.
In all of their wandering around the city, there were two districts they stayed away from. The first was the Crest, limiting themselves to gazing up at the magnificent buildings high above the rest of the city.
Helene explained how they would be extremely out of place on the Crest and there was an equal probability of either the city Watchmen or private Crest family guards being called to remove the interlopers. No matter which were involved, there would be some sort of significant unpleasantness. If that occurred, Helene was confident their own safety was assured, but was not enamored of the idea of causing serious injury, or worse, to a score or more guards just because they ventured into territory where they were too clearly out of place. Also, given the demand for a ransom of coins, it was extremely unlikely anyone on the Crest was involved in this matter.
The other was Claymarket. There, while the Watch would definitely not be involved – as it was too dangerous even for them – it was largely guaranteed mere minor injuries would not suffice to settle matters with whichever band of street toughs decided to cause an issue. Nonna was fascinated by the district and wanted to to venture into it,almost to the point of begging, stating she hadn’t had in a good fight in ages.
Helene adamantly refused, saying she wasn’t interested in causing random death and wanton destruction simply because they turned the wrong corner and Nonna needed a workout before supper.
A five-day passed, still with no further information, but with a definite growing camaraderie between the pair. That afternoon, when they returned to the house, they spotted a young boy sitting on the step in front of the door. His clothes were not torn, but he wasn’t the cleanest child either had seen in the city, which meant it was likely he was there as a messenger.
As they approached, the boy quickly stood and asked, “Mage Fabry?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Helene responded after lowering her hood.
“A Steward from da’ Sanctuary asked me ta’ come an’ give ya’ a message from da’ Keeper. He said he needs ta’ see ya’ at yer’ earliest.”
Helene sighed. With nothing further gleaned regarding the Hazerun request, it seemed either the Keeper or Brynmor Hazerun was growing impatient. Pulling a copper from her pouch, she tossed it to the boy.
“Please run back and tell whoever is at the desk I will be there shortly.”
The boy snatched the coin out of the air and smiled.
“Yes’m! T’ank ya’!” And then he was running off.
“The … Keeper?” Nonna remembered Helene mentioning the title, but didn’t understand the significance.
“He’s … he’s the one who runs a Sanctuary. And it seems he’d like to have a small chat with me. Join me? We can stop for supper afterwards.”
“Sure!” Nonna was curious about a place where there might be any other Mages, so she readily agreed.
Entering the main entrance of the Sanctuary, Helene asked Nonna to wait there on one of the benches. Before proceeding deeper in, she stopped at the desk to inform the Steward on duty that the other woman was her guest and not to disturb her. As soon as she stepped into the Keeper’s office, he looked up at her.
“Ah, Mage Fabry.”
“Yes, yes. I know… I don’t have anything new to report about Christopher Hazerun. There’s damned little out there so I’ve been chasing after wisps of smoke.”
“About that…” He waved her to the chair opposite his desk.
“I had yet another interesting meeting with Brynmor earlier.”
“Hmm?”
“It would seem young Christopher found his own way home.”
“What???”
“Yes, turns out he hadn’t gone quite as missing as it was believed. Instead, he was just …”
The Keeper cleared his throat, unsure of exactly how to phrase it. “He was sampling every girl from every brothel in the city.”
“He was doing … what???” Helene could see the promised pouch of gold disappearing into the distance as he spoke.
“Apparently, he’d asked his main servant, Rovito was the man’s name, for information about good places to visit down in the lower city. Rovito took him to a brothel somewhere in the Docks. Once there, he was, according to the madam running the house, quite … unquenchable.”
The Keeper cleared his throat in embarrassment. “She kept needing to borrow girls from other houses because he demanded further … sampling and didn’t wish to travel.”
Helene hung her head in her hands at how much turmoil had been caused by the man’s dalliances.
“So, Brynmor returned to relay the details to me. I felt I had no choice but to offer to return the reward purse.”
“Of course.” Helene could barely control the sneer of displeasure which threatened to leap from her mouth.
“However … it seems this Rovito fellow was charged with fetching coins from the Hazerun household to continue to feed his master’s desires. When the madam was questioned, he’d not been paying her quite as much as Christopher said was taken from his personal safe, so Rovito was obviously skimming extra. The ransom note was probably his doing as well. In any event, the madam was expecting the next payment about a five-day ago. That was never delivered and the man himself has not returned to work.”
Helene covered her mouth to keep from gasping in understanding of just where the purse she’d taken from the body had come – and why he’d had it. Thankfully, she was able to convert the motion into a slight cough.
“So, Brynmor has, instead, made a different request. He would be most appreciative if the servant, Titus Rovito, were to have some sort of … shall we say … accident?”
Understanding his meaning at once, Helene responded, “Am I correct in thinking a … fatal … accident would be the most appreciated?”
“You did not hear me say that, and Brynmor was quite clear that he would never explicitly request such a thing of the Sanctuary, as that would be the same as ordering someone to be killed. But, yes, the meaning was clear.”
Under normal circumstances, Helene would have declined the request, not being comfortable with making someone disappear in that fashion. However, since the deed had already been done, her mind was now fully engaged, contemplating if there might still be a way to earn the promised purse, given how she had already obliterated any remains of the man.
“I see… And, may I ask — purely out of intellectual curiosity — what sort of proof might demonstrate such an accident had occurred?”
“It seems this Rovito fellow had a belt buckle he was quite fond of. Wore it almost every day, and it’s not with any of his belongings at the Hazerun mansion, so…”
As he was saying this, Helene reached into the pocket of her cape and found the belt buckle which had been sitting there for the past several days. She casually pulled it out and tossed it onto the Keeper’s desk. She forced herself to contain a laugh.
He blinked at the object he had barely begun to describe before it suddenly appeared in front of him. After clearing his throat, he was able to speak again.
“Ye-es … remarkably, this would seem to fit the description he provided to me. I won’t ask how you came to possess this, of course. And I’ll need to confirm with him, but I would not be surprised if this is, indeed, the necessary item.”
Looking up at her once more, he continued.
“Once this is confirmed, shall I have the Stewards add your payment to what is already on record with us?”
Helene stood up and turned to leave.
“Yes. That will be fine. Send someone over one evening to let me know matters are settled, please? I am having dinner this evening with someone and don’t wish to keep them waiting longer than necessary.”
