Chapter One Hundred and Four - 104

Slightly shorter one today. Gonna try and make tomorrows longer to make up for it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Before she could answer, there was a sudden knocking at the door. Felix started to back away, but before he could move far, the door was slammed open. It crashed into the rack beside it, scattering a number of items to the ground. Felix was pretty sure they were ceramic bowls.

Lightning flashed outside, framing the bulky silhouettes of two Acolytes. They wore their red cloaks open and displayed an impressive array of weapons at their hips. Thunder followed a heartbeat later, rattling the curious on Caerwin's shelves.

"Ma'am," said the one in the lead, tilting his dark, shaved head toward Caerwin. "We seek a suspect in the attack last night. Have you seen anyone suspicious?"

For what it's worth, Caerwin didn't even glance at Felix. She simply frowned and shook her head. "No, Acolyte. I have seen few today after the violence last night. Perhaps fewer if I must suffer such constant interruptions, hmm?"

"Think hard, shopkeep." The other Acolyte, a woman with extremely pale skin and loose brown hair spoke up. Her eyes narrowed. "This man is of average height, average build. Has one or perhaps several Lightning-attuned Skills, and blue eyes."

"I've seen no one like that." Scoffed Caerwin. Rain began to lash the roof, creating a soft, constant clatter above them. Felix tried to let his Perception spread outward, hoping he could catch an attack before it came.

The female Acolyte stepped closer, staring Caerwin and then at Felix. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes lingered for a moment longer on Felix and he froze, his fanned Perception collapsing onto the Acolyte. As if in slow motion, the woman looked up and directly into his eyes. Felix stared into hers, the Acolyte's gaze a bright and vivid yellow. She blinked...slowly...

...and then turned away.

"I'm quite positive," Caerwin assured them.

"As am I," Felix managed, his voice steadier than he expected. The woman sighed and grimaced out the window and then at her partner.

"It's starting to come down hard. Let's keep going."

"..." The bald man glanced at Felix before nodding. "Aye."

Deception is level 7!

Deception is level 8!

"Keep an eye out. This man is very dangerous. Report any sightings to the nearest Inquisitor." The woman nodded tersely at them as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders at set out. Her partner was right behind her.

"Have a pleasant morning, ma'am. Sir."

The two of them left without anything further, trudging out into the rain. The door swung closed behind them with a soft click.

Felix swung toward Caerwin, who had been staring after the two Acolytes with a sour expression. He had questions. No. One question.

"What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?" The middle-aged woman matched Felix's angry stare. She gave nothing away. He groaned in annoyance.

"They were looking for blue eyes. She looked right at me. I have blue eyes." Felix pointed at his eyes and walked a few steps closer to the shopkeep. He fished the round disc from his shirt and held it up. " She should have said something. This Amulet, this Stone. These aren't just magic are they?"

Caerwin's smile returned, wider than ever. "What else could they be?"

Felix didn't answer her question, but instead posed one of his own. One that had been bothering him since he'd read the amulet's description. "What's a Chanter?"

Now, he didn't exactly know what to expect as an answer, but delighted laughter was not even in his top ten.

"It is magic, Felix. True, real magic." She spread her hands and an arc of light shimmered between them, carried along with a faint hum. Felix stepped back, glancing between it and the shopkeep.

Mage. He amended. She's definitely a mage.

"You've quite the eye, boy. I was surprised when you noticed the features of your amulet. The Stone, well, that was my test. To see if my hunch was right." She snapped her finger and gestured at him. "And it was. You're attuned to it."

"To what?"

"To the music of the spheres," she said as a lilting melody played across the room, a soft, sweet sound that sharpened the details all around him. Colors were suddenly more vivid, smells richer, the scrape of his toes against the inside of his boot loud and insistent. Then it faded, and so did the clarity. "To Harmony."

Felix's eyes rounded and his mind raced. "The Grand Harmony?"

Caerwin's smile turned elated. "Exactly so."

"Tell me," Felix stepped forward, Pit's warbling voice added to his own. "I've seen...I've been--"

"Not here. Small cantrips and verses can be done in secret, but...Come to the Crafters Quarter in four days, at dusk, on the corner of Cobbler and Weavers Way. Ask for me." She sighed and smiled again. "I promise I'll have all the answers you need."

I doubt that, Felix frowned as she pressed the Stone of Wild Echoes into his hand. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Consider it a gift. Just remember," she said as she led him to the back door again. "Find me in four days. Dusk. Yes?"

Felix nodded, reluctantly. Her words were too intriguing to pass up. Of course he'd go.

"Good. I have an appointment that should have been here already. I will see you then, Felix." She tried to shut the door, but he put a foot in the jamb.

"Just tell me, what is it?" He pressed. "What is the Grand Harmony?"

The woman looked at him with intense eyes, dark but not quite black. She slowly pushed his foot from the doorway. "It is life, itself."

The door closed.


* * *


Felix left her garden, leaping directly over her wall in an impressive display of athleticism. Caerwin perceived him through the walls of her shop, up until he left the perimeter of her property.

His Strength must be quite high, she mused, before a sudden chiming grabbed her attention. She glanced at the timepiece behind her, frowning. Where is that boy?

The servant was late. Caerwin would normally have been annoyed had her visitors not kept her. Felix was one thing, an intriguing puzzle that had fallen into her lap. The others however...she could do without their platitudes.

When the boy arrived, he was drenched from the rain, apparently having left the Eyrie without a cloak of any kind. He panted, hands on knees just inside her doorway.

"In, in!" She sniped. "You're letting the rain inside!"

True enough, the rain had become a downpour, and the wind whipped it sideways along the street. The boy fumbled with the door latch for half a minute before getting it to catch. He turned and tried to wipe his wet on his trousers.

"I'm sorry, Miss Caerwin ma'am." He bowed twice and touched his forehead with his right index finger. He glanced up at her with a worried frown. "I came as fast as I could, but the crowds, and then the rain..."

Caerwin waved her hand and shook he head. "Don't worry about it, boy. I was busy until now anyway. What do you have to report?"

The servant looked around the shop, at the shelves and walls and windows that rattled with another peal of thunder. "Right here? Are we...?"

"Safe?" A series of marking around the room suddenly began to glow a sharp magenta color before fading. "As houses, boy. Speak what you will."

The boy, no older than fifteen, cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter. He pushed his dripping hair out of his face and looked at the shopkeep. "She is asking questions, as you'd hoped ma'am. Poking around everywhere she can."

"Good. And the ciphers? Were they useful?" Caerwin leaned forward over the counter, intent. "Was she able to activate them?"

The servant nodded. "I had to do quite a bit to give her the chance, but luring a few guards off and unlocking a window wasn't too difficult. Not for me, anyway."

A strange sort of confidence leaked into the boy's tone, his shoulders squaring and his chin lifting with each word. By the end of it he was staring boldly into Caerwin's dark eyes. He had even grown, by at least four inches and no longer looked fifteen. He looked to be in his early twenties, at best.

What a Skill he has, Caerwin thought appreciatively, not for the first time. "But she did use them, yes?"

"She used them. Said they had let her listen in on the Elder Council. But," here he hesitated with a wince. "She was nearly caught. One of the Elders blew up a door."

"Damn," muttered Caerwin. "Was she found out?"

"That's the good news. Her father's Hand whisked her away, and near as I can tell, the man erased any trace of her presence."

"A stroke of luck," the shopkeep breathed. "Has she asked your aid any other time?"

The young man nodded and put his hands on his hips. An easy smile came to his lips. "That's part of why I'm here. She's lookin' for more Script Ciphers. Since I was her source last time, I figured---"

"No. Those are too easy to trace. The council won't get fooled the same way twice." Caerwin tapped her lip. "Can you get her out of the Eyrie? Into the city proper?"

The servant winced again. "I don't know. They've been keeping a pretty tight watch on her. With the last attack--"

"I'll get you fifty crowns."

"--I don't see why not. She's a free spirit. Been achin' to get out of the tower for a while now." The servant rubbed his cleanly shaved chin and smirked, showing off a set of dimples that weren't there a moment earlier. "Might hafta grease some palms, o'course. Can be mighty difficult fundin' such things..."

Caerwin rolled her eyes and produced a velvet satchel the size of her fist. She tossed it to him. It disappeared into his pockets so quickly, it was almost magic.

"Pleasure doin' business with you, ma'am. Where and when should I tell the young miss to go?"

"Four days. Send her to the corner of Cobbler and Weaver's Way. Come at dusk, and have her ask for me."

"Ask for you? Or for Caerwin?" The servant smirked, and his eyes flashed a series of colors, from red to silver to a simple, unassuming brown. Caerwin frowned at him until his smirk wiped clean. "Sorry ma'am. I'll see it done."

The shopkeep bent low to pick up one of the ceramic bowls that had survived their fall. When she looked up, the young man was gone. In his place, however, was a large puddle of water. She grunted.

Always more to do. 

She went and got a mop.