by Mike Truk
“Like what?” I asked, leaning forward again.
Matteo shook his head wonderingly. “I could fill your ears with yarns all night long. Ashen mermaids with glowing eyes. Eels as long as a galleon. The kraken himself. All manner of awful things. No. Best leave the waters to the lampetramen, especially if they’ve advised you against it.”
Cerys didn’t seem convinced. “If it’s so bad, why does the whole town jump in at the end of the Equinox?”
Matteo grinned. “That’s the madness of it. Apparently, everyone used to do it back in the old days against their will. Now it’s become the ultimate in terrifying communal insanity. The whole town gets shit-faced, and when the White Sun temple rings the midnight hour, everyone jumps in, screaming and clawing at each other, laughing and trying to get back out just as quickly. Safety in numbers? Every year a few people go missing, but people do it all the same. I think the danger of it lends the whole night its bacchanalian madness.”
“Bacchanalian madness,” I said. “If I ever own a ship, that’s what I’ll call it. But all that aside, we still need to get down to that ship. That or risk going head-to-head with the White Suns as we force an entry.”
Matteo gave me a commiserating smile. “Sometimes you just have to walk away from an impossible situation, my friend. The odds sound too stacked against you. You did well with Jessie, but - well. Jessie was child’s play compared to what you’re dealing with now.”
“The lampetramen,” I said. “What can you tell me about them? They all agree on everything? They have a common leader? Or are their different tribes, or factions, or…?”
“They’re Port Lusander’s biggest mystery, they are,” said Matteo. “Crucial to our survival, yet close-lipped about themselves. ‘Course, they don’t really have lips, do they? Been here since forever, it’s said, guiding ships in and out and trimming back the coral. Without them the coral would seal off the bay completely. Some people claim they live in black-green glass buildings below the waves, floating about their palace rooms like long-lost princes and princesses. Others say that they burrow down into the mud and sleep for years if not decades, their hearts slowing to nothing, waiting for the urge to mate to wake them up and bring them back to the surface. I’ve heard some folk say they’re the product of wizardry, and are wholly unnatural, while others claim that they’re the only true natives to these swamps. Thing is, nobody really knows. They don’t talk. Even the ones they kick out of their tribe are a close-mouthed lot.”
“Kick out of their tribes?” asked Cerys.
“Aye. They have some sort of unspoken set of rules. Every once in a blue moon a lampetramen will climb up onto the docks and not go back down again. Step into town and try to make a living amongst the rest of us. It normally doesn’t go well. Most of them end up sitting in a dark corner somewhere, not eating, and die within a day or two. A few though, it’s said, find employment. Nothing public. But it’s rare, frightfully rare. In all the time I’ve been working here, I’ve only seen it happen twice, and that’s in a decade.”
“Where do they work, these ones that find employment?” I hesitated. “A brothel?”
Matteo raised an eyebrow. “Good guess. You’re surprisingly well informed. Yes, there’s supposed to be one working in the Fever Dream. Though finding it is a mission in and of itself - the place caters to the very wealthy, and nobody I’ve spoken with actually knows where it’s located. Some wager it’s in one of the company warehouses right here on the docks. Others that it’s in a wealthy manor basement. Some say it doesn’t even exist, an urban legend of sorts. My guess? It moves around. Port Lusander’s not big enough that it could reside in any one place for long before it were sussed out. I’d guess, and this is just my opinion, mind you, that it moves around and only opens to the public a few nights a month. To its special, rarefied public, that is. To preserve its air of mystery, you see. If the noblemen here could pop down whenever they felt the urge and sleep with the ladies there, it’d soon become commonplace. But if it only were open a few times a month, and always in a different locale…? Now that’s something to hold their attention.”
Cerys’ smile was bleak. “You should have been a brothel owner, Matteo.”
“Not me,” said the young man, looking embarrassed. “I’ve too soft a heart and I’m a prude besides. The whole enterprise would fall to pieces.”
“So there could be a lampetraman working at this Fever Dream. Perhaps they’d be more amenable to helping us out. To guiding us down to the ship and helping us avoid his fellows.”
“Perhaps,” said Cerys. “If we can find him. And if he’s overcome the fear his compatriots have of whatever lies down there.”
“It’s better than battering our way into the ruins,” I said, “and risking a direct fight with the White Suns. Matteo, if you absolutely had to find the Fever Dream, how would you go about it?”
Matteo tongued the inside of his cheek. “If I had to? I’d ask Jessie, maybe. She might point you in the right direction.”
“Right. Thanks Matteo. You’ve helped more than you know.”
Matteo sat back and spread his arms expansively. “My pleasure! Now all you need do is solve my riddle and you’ll be my most favorite patrons ever.”
I drained my drink and then gave him a wink as I stood up. “I’ll see what we can do. See you around.”
“Your health.” He drained his own and rose. “And if you do find the Fever Dream, you’d best come back here and tell me all about it.”
Cerys snorted. “Men.”
“Always disappointing,” said Matteo, sketching a bow, tripping, and then stumbling back to the bar with a laugh. “Take care!”
Grinning, I led the way back outside. “You up for helping me find this place?”
“It’s work,” said Cerys. “So sure. But perhaps we should get some backup. Places like this Fever Dream are usually dangerous.”
“Not Pony. Yashara would be good but she sticks out almost as badly as he does. Tamara? If we need her help we’re already dead. Havatier would be good but he’s not talking to us.”
“Netherys,” said Cerys with a sigh.
“Netherys. With her we’ve nothing to worry about. Come on. If we jog we might catch her before she reaches the ship.” I paused, then grimaced. “Why do I get the impression we’re going to regret going to a brothel called ‘Fever Dream?’”
Cerys’ smile was cruel. “Hey, if you get to force me to flirt with Beauhammer, then we get to force you to do whatever it takes to get this lampetraman to do what we need.”
“No,” I said, but Cerys only laughed and began jogging toward the Bonegwayne. “Hell no! No way!”
She didn’t stop. I grimaced, scowled at nobody in particular, and then ran after her. It looked like our night was just beginning.
Chapter 10
Half an hour later we were seated in Jessie’s warehouse, violin music playing with aching beauty in the background, candles pushing back the dark and imbuing everything with a romantic glow. The threadbare chaise on which I sat seemed almost charming in that soft, golden light, the rugs smoldered with a crimson hue, and the cut crystal glasses Jessie had ordered be brought forth and set on the central table gleamed like lost treasures.
Don’t come back here during the day, I noted to myself. Won’t be half as grand.
Jessie curled her legs under herself as she sat in her armchair, crystal flute held carelessly in one hand, studying me curiously. “I have to admit, Master Kellik, your negotiator was very skilled. I found myself agreeing to all manner of positions I’d never have thought myself capable of.”
“Master Pogmillion lives for loopholes and clauses,” I said. “I’m glad he’s on my side. If this world could be conquered by contracts I’d have been crowned emperor weeks ago.”
“Only weeks?” she asked, arching a fine brow. “Your acquaintance doesn’t stretch far back?”
“We’re a new outfit. But that’s offset by the shining future that lies before us.”
<
br /> “A mutually beneficial one,” said Jessie, smiling wryly. “I hope you don’t mind my consulting with Master Pogmillion on the details of my next venture. I’d value his opinion.”
I was feeling generous, like some king being petitioned by an incredibly lovely supplicant. I guess Jessie’s wine was that good. Also, it was nice to have people speak courteously to me for a change instead of bellowing and trying to take off my head. “Of course. I’d insist, especially if my gold’s involved.”
“Which I hope it shall be. But to what do I owe this late night visit?” She leaned back in her chair, tracing the arm with her fingertips. “Not that I mind.”
I took a sip of my wine. If I knew anything about wines I’d be able to say more than it was delicious, but I’d have to settle for showing my appreciation by drinking lots of it. “We’re fascinated by Port Lusander. At first it seemed little more than a bucolic and sleepy seaside town. But the more we look, the more interesting its hidden wonders. Take, for example, the Fever Dream. Heard of it?”
Jessie stilled, and I fought the urge to exchange a glance with Cerys. For a moment I could have sworn fear flashed across Jessie’s face, but then she smiled, almost but not quite naturally, and took a sip of her wine. Buying a moment to compose herself?
“The Fever Dream. You don’t waste any time learning about our dark little secrets, do you?”
Cerys hadn’t touched her wine. She leaned forward now and set it on the table. “Yours? You’re involved?”
Jessie made the sign of the Hallowed Oak. “Oh no. I’m not. I meant Port Lusander’s. But what’s your interest? If it’s carnal, I would urge you to seek satisfaction elsewhere. There are options for a talented and handsome man such as yourself.”
I could almost hear Cerys roll her eyes and grinned. “You’re too kind. But there’s someone we want to talk to who works there, apparently. It’s purely business.”
“That’s what they all say,” said Jessie, “but I’d encourage you to reconsider. There are two sides to Port Lusander. You’ve only experienced the surface side, the normal side. The Fever Dream caters to the other.”
“What are we talking about here?” I asked. “Degenerate nobles?”
“Not so much,” said Jessie, her tone growing cautious. “You know of the companies that run the xanthan vine business, of course.”
“We’ve seen their docks,” said Cerys. “Very organized, very different from the rest of the port.”
“That’s just the tip,” said Jessie. “We don’t mess with company interests. They’re the true power behind Port Lusander. The reason behind the city’s continued existence, even. Oh, Beauhammer up in his castle might argue otherwise, but he’s tolerated by the companies as long as he doesn’t meddle in their business.”
“We heard he doesn’t even get to tax them,” I said.
Jessie snorted. “Tax them? He’s lucky they don’t tax him. No, they do as they will, and exist in a separate world from the rest of us. Which is how we like it. The less one involves oneself with their business and world, the better. The Fever Dream would bring you firmly into their sphere, for in large part the Dream caters to their elite. The executives and officers of the three companies.”
“So what’s the harm in our visiting?” I asked. “I can even tidy myself up, put on a nice coat.”
“It’s not that,” said Jessie. “You don’t want to draw their attention. Their house mages are elite. Their personal guards are… unsurpassed. They are utterly merciless and destroy anything that interferes with their way of life. Decadent, ridiculously wealthy, and unconstrained by the law or any semblance of morality. If you go to the Fever Dream and cause trouble -”
“Who said we’d cause trouble?” I protested.
“If you go and cause trouble, they’ll see to it that you don’t cause trouble again. And perhaps they’ll look a little further afield to see whom else you’ve been talking to, and have a word with them in turn. Which means me. So.” Jessie’s smile was almost convincing. “Let’s talk about alternatives. What kind of girl do you enjoy? I’m sure we can find a match.”
“Didn’t know you were in the whoring business,” said Cerys.
Jessie cocked her head to one side, smile growing hard. “I’m not. But I’m willing to make exceptions if it means keeping a war troll out of the Fever Dream.”
“We weren’t planning on taking Pony,” I said.
Jessie spread her hands as if saying that remained to be seen.
Netherys leaned forward. She’d remained quiet all this time, and hadn’t even pushed back her hood. “Perhaps you can give us a few hints. Indirect pieces of information from which we can draw our own conclusions and leave you blameless.”
Jessie licked her lower lip. “Look, even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. I don’t know where it is. Nobody does. Even if you knew the address itself, you’d still not be able to find it.”
“Ah,” said Netherys. “Magical wards.”
“Didn’t say that,” said Jessie.
“Which would explain why it is so difficult to find. Someone’s obfuscating its location. Yet not so that patrons can’t find their way there. A keyword, perhaps, or attuned object that allows the bearer to see past the magic.” Netherys leaned back in her seat. “We could lift such a key from a corporate officer and use that to find our way in.”
Jessie sat bolt upright, wine sloshing in her glass. “Absolutely not, you - why, you’d rouse the wrath - that would be insane -”
“Oh, my dear,” said Netherys, her voice the perfect blend of amusement and condescension. “I’ve done far crazier things than that. Hush.”
“Let’s leave off assaulting corporate officers for now,” I said. “What do you think? Could you trace the magic itself? Do a Port Gloom, and find the hidden by detecting the blank spot itself?”
“Perhaps,” said Netherys. “It depends on how skilled the practitioner is. But as I said, we’re helped by the need for this brothel to be found by a wide variety of patrons. Thus, even if the practitioner is talented, their weave will be weakened by this trapdoor.”
Cerys tapped her lips. “Of course, arriving unannounced could be problematic in and of itself. Whose to say we’d gain admittance even if we found the door?”
“That’s where we lie,” I say. “Say we’re guests of Beauhammer or one of the corporate groups. We don’t need to spend long inside. Just enough to have a word with our friend.”
“You’re absolutely mad,” said Jessie. “No - not mad, merely ignorant of what you’re dealing with. Don’t be mistaken by Port Lusander’s size. Yes, I know we’re a fraction of Port Gloom’s immensity, but the forces that work beneath the surface here would challenge anything in your home city. You go breaking into the Fever Dream, you’ll bring down ruin upon your heads.”
“Nothing we’re not used to,” I said, leaning forward to place my glass on the table. “Anything else you can tell us? No? Well, you’ve been very helpful, regardless. I’ll be sure to not mention your name if we’re apprehended and tortured.”
“Mad,” said Jessie, and then she laughed. “But I have to admit I admire your boldness, Kellik. If you survive the night, come pay me another visit and tell me about your escapades.”
I stood and sketched a courtly bow. “On that you can count, my smuggling queen.”
Cerys and Netherys stood up as well, and soon we were outside. A faint fog had risen from the bay, and once more the lanterns were haloed in amber coronas. We walked perhaps a block before ducking into an alleyway.
“So,” I said, leaning against the mossy brick wall. “Netherys?”
“Let me see.”
“Wait,” said Cerys. “Jessie sounded serious. Are we ready to meddle with these powers? She sounds legitimately afraid of them.”
“You know, these might be my famous last words, but she’s a small-time smuggler that we browbeat without breaking a sweat.” I shrugged. “I’m willing to bet Jessie’s idea of lethal is not our idea of lethal
.”
Cerys sighed. “Very well.”
Netherys closed her eyes, extended her hands before her, and began to whisper in a lyrical language I could only assume was dark elvish. Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle, and I saw Cerys shudder as well.
Wisps of fog began to coalesce into a web before the dark elf, and this she knitted with her nails, pulling and interweaving them with rapid dexterity. All the while she whispered, and I took a step away, and then a second, for standing too close to her was making me feel as if someone were scratching their nails down a slate board.
Then, with a final word, Netherys raised her palm to her lips and blew down its length, as if sending a kiss to Port Lusander. The ethereal web dissipated. She sighed, rolled her head about her neck so that it popped several times, and turned to me, her eyes gleaming. “Now, we wait and see.”
“Wait for what?” I asked.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I hesitated, lips pursed, and then nodded. “Yeah. Tell me.”
“Mother Magrathaar is the witch crone of hexes, curses, and secrets. Many of her servitors are entities dedicated to these areas of concentration. I called forth a soul spider. A small one, no larger than my fist. More than that and it might have materialized and started pulling our spirits out of her bodies.” She grinned as if telling a joke. I managed a wan smile. “But I set this small spider to hunting the threads of magic that hide and create secrets. Even now it is hunting through Port Lusander, looking for traces of such obfuscation.”
“So the very act of hiding something creates a presence it can detect?”
Netherys reached out to pat me cheek. “Your attempt to understand the mysteries of Mother Magrathaar are adorable, Kellik. If you really want to know how this works, I would be willing to induct you to the lower order of Mother Magrathaar’s truths. We would just need several nights alone, a few specific tools, and - well, you don’t need to know about the rest till we get to it.”