Since the spell was terminated, there is no reason I need to leave my room in a hurry, so I do my usual morning routine. I flip through my spellbook and select a couple of cantrips that I don’t normally use—especially in town. One that can be used to detect pathways, even hidden or ethereal, and the one I used on Rakatha a few days ago that enthralls another sapient creature. It is well known to me that it is particularly dangerous to use that one in town because is strictly illegal in Elysium, and is typically frowned upon in most of the civilized world. Using it while on patrol can be explained—at least somewhat—but in town there can be witnesses, or the subject can immediately flag down a member of the watch and have me arrested—even on suspicion. As handy as that magic is, it isn’t worth prison time or execution.
I knew the spell before I went to Val Maxis’ tower and recall, with satisfaction, the last time I used it in town. The landlord of a shop in the middle of Nodkis enVoll—just before where the good side of town begins—had been looking to let it but didn’t see me as tenant material. I remember the look in his eyes, wide and wild like a snared animal, when I walked into his office. I’d already looked at my other options for opening a shop in town, and they ranged from shit holes to stinking pits. Those were just the ones who were willing to consider me. The landlords on the good side of the town had either pretended to have another meeting—if they were polite—or been hasty to give me a referral to another firm—because Elysians are all so goddamn polite.
That shop front was the best chance I’d get in Nodkis, and I hadn’t been about to squander it. I had muttered the invocation right after he’d seen me but before I was close enough for him to hear me cast the spell. Almost immediately, the look he had of being ready to run quickly became one of curiosity. I knew I couldn’t push too hard, control his mind too firmly, because those who are mind-controlled don’t lose their memory. So, when the spell fades, if they can’t rationalize their behavior, you can bet the constables will be out looking for you. So I just gave him a little nudge to consider me with interest instead of mistrust.
I hadn’t been in Elysium long at that point, at least not in the populated parts, but I knew the language well enough to negotiate a suitable deal. It would have been unwise to try to get too good a rate, or he’d quickly want to find a new tenant. I negotiated something fair and made certain to always pay my rent on time.
The spell had worked at that time, but I knew it was risky. Time and again I’ve lingered on its page as I’ve perused my spell book, but it has started to feel like a piece of forbidden knowledge that I must keep hidden.
Even today, I feel a spike of unease as I set the enchantment’s words into my mind, joining the whispered incantation with earth and wind materia to place the spell into a state of near completion, ready to be realized when I speak the final words aloud.
I will be ready to use it if I see someone watching me, lurking, or if I am able to track the source of the spell next time.
I stand and gather my things, leaving the room devoid of my personal effects, despite having already paid for three days. Only a great fool leaves their belongings in someone else’s domain and expects them to remain. In my youth, in Ezuram, I’d cased many an inn room looking for valuables, contraband, or weapons, so I had first-hand knowledge of how easy it was to wait until a mark left and then ransack their room.
As a runaway teen from an enemy nation, my options for employment were scarce. Working as an enforcer for the Qufazd Haiun gave me protection from the law, as long as I was loyal. It wasn’t something I was ever proud of.
It hadn’t really been so bad and I had learned a lot. Had I not been double crossed, I might have stayed. I may have even become the gang boss, in time. Boss Taaj am-Zaid had liked me and might have made me his successor. Or I could have overthrown him and taken it myself, given half a chance. I had access to him that many were jealous of.
It is quite obvious, now in retrospect, that the private time I spent with him was the reason for the plot against me. His lieutenants had thought I was being groomed for leadership out of order, that I was being told their secrets, that I was whispering things in old Taaj’s ear. I appeared to have too much influence for my rank in the gang, as a low-tier enforcer. In reality, Taaj had an appetite for young meat and I had very little choice but to be his lover. He’d hid it from everyone.
So, even though I have taken all my things, I close and lock the door behind me. I’d rather not return to an intruder in my rooms or allow easy access for this spellcaster spying on me to enter and inscribe runes or cast magic that will make his job easier.
I walk down the stairs and am pushing the front door of the inn open into the flood of morning light when I hear, “Hey, you’s a letter.”
Looking back, it’s the innkeep’s wife. She is holding an envelope. The heavy, wax seal on it makes it flop in her waggling hand like a dead herring.
I take one large step back, pluck the note from her hand, and drop a trio of copper coins on the counter between us. If I don’t want my future correspondence being read by the innkeeper or his wife, I know I have to pay for the privilege. Though Elysians believe themselves to be good, upstanding folk, no one is above greed and power.
I’m certainly not.
Pushing the door open once again, I tuck the letter into the pouch that holds my writing supplies. Sleek, stiff leather that protects from the weather and sun, and keeps the pages from crumpling. It has an array of slim pockets on the front to hold vials of ink, a spot for two quills, and a drawstring pocket to hold blotting cloths. The leather on the back is smooth and firm enough to serve as a satisfactory writing surface, in a pinch.
It has been in my possession for a long time—nearly thirty years—and is one of the most finely-crafted items I own. I stole it.
I knew it was expected that I would return all the trappings of my station when I left my post as Lore Keeper for the Duke of Osceny in the Free Realms League, but I didn’t. I abandoned the Duke to his foibles which, apparently, included trusting me. I’m sure the kingdom doesn’t even exist anymore.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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