by Ren Cummins
“Unbelievable promises of compensation upon success?” Cousins asked.
“Ah, yes, that would be it.” Favo smiled, dropping into one of the chairs in the room. “Well, unless you happen to have more of those stones, I don’t see any reason to keep you here any longer.”
Rom put Mulligan back up on her shoulder, glowering at Favo. “And if we did?”
He laughed, confessing, “I don’t suppose I could stop you anyway.”
Kari shook her head, her anger getting the better of her. “So all of this was just… for money?”
His face became serious. “Not just money, no. But an opportunity to leave this place, and at last take my rightful place among the happy citizens who sent my foolish excuse for a grandfather out to this land of mold and squalor,” he spat. “Or, at the very least, improve the community among whom I remain exiled into. Either notion suits my needs.”
He shook his head. “But never mind me,” he said instead. “I’m growing bitter in my old age.”
Ian motioned the others to go, turning to face Favo again. “I release you from my spell,” he said, his voice weaving in a subtle series of musical tones. “You may now remember me.”
Favo’s eyes widened. “You!” he exclaimed. “But - - but you - -!” he stammered.
Ian nodded, bowing courteously towards Favo. “If you wish to thank me, please do so instead by offering reparations to the Apothecary.”
They walked downstairs, leaving a stunned Favo to sit alone in his waiting room.
* * * * *
One they were again alone in the streets and walking back to the shop, Kari walked in the middle of them, smiling strangely.
“That was definitely a Morrow Stone,” she said.
Ian agreed. “It was still charged with the magical energies of its creator, unlike the one you three brought us earlier.”
“It was…oh, the music was beautiful,” she sighed.
“Indeed.”
“But that’s not all,” the apprentice steamsmith said, her voice rising a bit in her excitement. “I got a really good feel for it while we were there in that room. A really good feel for it.”
Ian stopped and turned towards her, his face pale in the cold light of the twin moons. “What is it?”
She grinned broadly.
“I’m pretty sure I know what they’re for.”
“Really?” Cousins asked.
She shook her head. “Yes, but that’s not all.” She put her hand on Rom’s shoulder. “Rom, I think I know how to make one.”
Chapter 13: Kinesthetics
The next morning, Ian took Rom and Kari to the Conservatory just after finishing an early breakfast. It wasn’t a long walk, but Rom had plenty of time to marvel that this would be the first time she had actually been inside this building. She’d used it as a marker when making her rounds from rooftop to rooftop, as it was the most distinctive tall building for miles.
Often, she heard the beautiful sounds coming from within the acoustic halls of the College of Music, but she’d never actually seen how it was done. When she mentioned this to Kari, she was surprised to find that Kari had not yet been here, either.
“I’ve been so busy with my classes and my project that I haven’t had much time to wander around and meet people or explore the other colleges.”
Ian patted her shoulder. “That is the way of the apprentice,” he said. “But I have a few friends in many of the colleges – and one associate in particular may be of some help to us this morning.”
He walked them into the Cadenza, the grand opening area of the college, where, according to Ian, soloist musicians would play during the entire day as a greeting for visitors, students and professors alike. There was a young woman sitting in the center of the room, holding a large curved instrument easily taller than herself, covered in small valves and strings. Through a combination of blowing across a small reed and plucking the various strings, the music that filled the room sounded like a small orchestra itself was performing. In spite of their apparent hurry, Ian and the girls remained there until the song she had been playing as they entered had finished. They smiled and bowed to her as they crossed the floor to one of many pair of doors.
One of the first things Rom noticed was the absolute silence that befell them once the doors had closed behind them. They entered a small chamber Ian explained was called a “Buffer”, whose sole purpose was to trap the sound from between adjoining segments of the College. A large inscription was above the pair of doors leading from the Buffer.
Ian read it aloud, smiling: “‘Between the final echo of the coda’s recollections and the prelude of the following composition is found the breath of life.’”
“What do they mean by that, Ian?” Kari asked.
“This is the part of the college which specializes in the field of Kinesthetics,” he explained. “They pursue the relevance between magic and its perceived musical signatures.”
Kari’s eyes widened. “Oh!”
Rom shook her head. “I don’t understand. But it’s okay, I kind of like this place.”
Ian led them through the outer doors of the Buffer and took them down a long hall and descending staircase into a lower series of chambers. There were several doors along both sides of the broad hallway, and the girls could see people inside, but no sound could be heard in the hall from inside the rooms.
“What they are doing in this wing is attempting to recreate magical spells by perfectly reproducing the music left behind or heard during the casting of the given spell.” He held up the stone again. “And that is what we will attempt to do today with this.”
Rom’s forehead wrinkled. “But you said the spells that have been used to charge these have been lost - - -oh!” she said, suddenly realizing the connection.
“Exactly, Rom – no one has heard the complete music from a fully charged Morrow stone in hundreds of years. Not until Kari heard it yesterday.”
“But you’re, like old.” Rom pointed at Ian. “Haven’t you heard it before?”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Thank you for that, Rom. But no, my skills at ‘hearing’ have never been truly developed. I am not a natural – there are, I would dare say, few who possess so raw and natural a gift as Kari does.”
Kari blushed, and Rom nudged her with her shoulder. “Well, look at you, being all gifted.”
“Shut up,” Kari said, her blush deepening. “I can’t jump five thousand miles.”
Ian motioned for them both to be quiet. “We are here. Please be very silent in this room – it is designed to focus sound into magic – any noise you make could affect the spells themselves.”
The room was tremendous - it had the appearance of an egg cut in half lengthwise, with the shell laid atop a flat piece of white stone. The walls and ceiling were pale white and mostly featureless, but were gently curved in concentric circles emanating from the center of the ceiling and extending outwards and down to the floor like ripples on a pond. Rom felt like she was growing smaller as she entered the room.
At the far end of the room sat a small semi-circle of musicians, all holding strange devices of wood or brass. One sat against the wall in front of an immensely complex series of pipes and bells, all apparently connected to a table upon which were a multi-tiered sequence of buttons and pedals. Several of the musicians had instruments with long metal threads woven across them; these they either plucked, struck with small hammers or dragged thin reeds across the strings to make them vibrate at a certain pitch. There was also one young boy who did not hold any instrument at all.
In the center of the room was a thin raised platform, beside which stood an older gentleman with thin white hair that encircled his head like an oversized crown, as well as surrounding his mouth in a snowy goatee.
Ian approached this man and extended a hand in greeting, which the older man reciprocated.
“Ian, my old friend,” he said.
“It has been a while, Branthem,” Ian replied. “And yet you don’t loo
k a day older.” Both men spoke in flat tones, devoid of excessive inflection. To Rom, the room felt as if she were in her bed, wrapped tightly in her blankets. To Kari, however, the entire room felt alive in reverberations, which tickled their way across her skin and whispered through her ears.
“And you, Ian, are a right liar,” Branthem smiled. “It is you who still looks the same.” He looked appraisingly at the two girls. “These are the ones of whom you have spoken?”
“They are.” He gestured to them. “This is Rom, my apprentice,” – this introduction earned her a gentlemanly bow from Branthem and a look of genuine and solemn respect which left Rom speechless – “and this is Kari, apprentice Smith of the college of Atmology.”
“Ah, this is the young Steamsmith that has everyone abuzz with talk of miracles and wonders!”
Kari looked around as if she believed he must be speaking of someone else, but accepted his outstretched hand self-consciously.
“Don’t put too much pressure on the young lady,” Ian cautioned with a smile. “She already has placed too much on her own shoulders as it is.”
“Quite, quite,” Branthem conceded. “And did you bring the stone?”
Nodding, Ian held his hand out towards Kari, who stared back at him, confused. “I don’t have it,” she said.
Ian pointed to one of the larger pouches on her belt. She looked down at the pouch he was pointing to; she’d worn this belt for months, and each pouch was filled with a variety of items that she used in her work or studies. But she suddenly realized she had never put anything into this pouch, had never even opened it before now. Unbuttoning the closure, she gasped as she reached in and drew out the Morrow Stone. Confused beyond words, she placed the faintly opaque stone in Ian’s outstretched hand.
Rom elbowed her. “You had that the whole time?”
Ian shook his head softly. “After you brought it to Goya,” he explained, “they felt the safest place to hide it was with someone who did not even know they had it – and, they felt the stone had already formed a strong connection to you, so it seemed the logical choice.”
Ian held it up – even the musicians who had remained virtually motionless so far anxiously began to stir at this gesture. For many, the Morrow stones were spoken of – if at all – like legends and myths. To see one - - - and in light of the knowledge of that which they were about to undertake - - - it was among the more amazing moments of many of their lives.
Ian pointed towards a small row of seats near a far wall. “Rom, you, Mulligan and I can sit here.” Kari looked confused, but Branthem approached her with his hand outstretched.
“Kari, you must help me. We must teach these, my finest students, the music that Ian tells me you have heard in its complete form.”
Ian placed the stone in a small indentation in the center of the raised platform and he and Rom took their seats. Mulligan climbed down to rest in the chair beside her. Branthem took Kari to the far side with the musicians and introduced her to all of them. They also took turns playing their various instruments so that Kari could hear the way they sounded.
She pointed to two of them right from the start and shook her head. The sounds their instruments played did not fit in with the tones she had heard from the Morrow stone, so they sat their instruments to the side and did not play. She also explained that there had been no words, but that there had been a certain sound mixed along with the music that sounded like a set of human voices – so the two musicians stood alongside the one young boy who held no instrument of his own, and Kari helped them reproduce the vocal sounds she had heard.
It was a long and occasionally frustrating process. At one point, Ian had to perform a gentle charm on her to help her focus her sense of recall.
After several hours, food was brought and they all took a break to eat and drink and rest. Kari’s face was pale, but soon retained its normal color by the end of their break.
As they returned to their seats, Rom commented on this to Ian. “Is she okay? Why does this seem to be so hard on her?”
Ian explained, “The process of kinesthesia – of using music to achieve a specific magical effect – requires the use of a physical focus. So all that magical energy the musicians are generating is passing through her, to some degree, on its way to the stone.”
Rom’s eyes traveled from the stone to her friend. The musicians raised their instruments and began again.
Chapter 14: No Honor Among Thieves
Cousins looked at the tall building ahead of him. Twice in as many days, he found himself in front of Favo’s doors; only, this time, he’d been invited. He was pretty certain he was more nervous now than he had been last time.
The guards opened the doors for him - - one he recognized from last night really wanted to glare at him, but was apparently under orders not to - - and Cousins resisted the temptation to press the issue.
One of the guards gestured towards the far staircase. “You’re expected, upstairs.”
Cousins thanked the man and made his way up. The still-blackened doors at the far end of the waiting room were open, and Favo was at his desk. He stood up when Cousins entered, walking around his desk to greet Cousins with an honest handshake.
“Have a seat, please,” he said, gesturing towards one of the two comfortably stuffed chairs while he stepped back to lean against the front of his desk. When Cousins was seated, he said simply, “I’m assuming you already know the reason I wanted to speak to you?”
Cousins had been thinking about that the entire way over, and only could see one real reason behind it. “You’re offering me a job again, I’d wager.”
“You’d win,” Favo smiled. “Yes. As you may recall, a position has just opened up as my second-in-command.”
“I’ve turned your offers down every time you’ve made them, Favo. Why do you think this time will be any different, regardless of the weight of the position?”
The older man laughed. “You wouldn’t have come all this way to just turn me down.”
Cousins shrugged. “Fair enough. But surely you understand my objections to your organization, correct?”
“Cousins, I’m looking to evolve this organization. Certainly, I’ve made my reputation at the hands of less than savory individuals – and at the expense of possible undeserving ones – but it has come to my attention that I cannot expect to continue with so limited a business direction.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that you’re going straight?”
Favo laughed again. “Stranger things have happened, my friend. The trouble is that people – just like yourself – would never believe it. I’ve been too successful in establishing myself as an unrepentant thief and scoundrel. Who would ever believe me capable of forthright and honest dealings?”
“No one.”
“Exactly my point.”
Cousins rolled his eyes. “I understand it now. You want to bring me on as the new face of your organization. You want me to be here as evidence that you can be… what, trusted?”
“Precisely,” Favo confessed.
The young man could see all manner of body language signs, as well as sense the crossroads which Favo had found himself, but it did not completely add up. Something was still there, hidden.
“What else?” he asked bluntly.
Favo smiled, nodding. “See, that is why I must hire you. People just don’t ask me things straight out anymore, and I miss that.”
He walked back around the desk and sat in his chair. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a small metal object and tossed it to Cousins. It was grey and shapeless, a compressed metal lump barely the size of his thumbnail.
“That’s the bullet Molla tried to kill me with,” he said. “Thanks to Ian’s little spell, it played just enough with reality to stop the actual impact – but the bullet was real, and had it not been for that spell, I would be a dead man.”
Cousins reached out and dropped the metal slug back on the desk. “How does hiring me tie in to that? If you want p
rotection, maybe you should be talking to Ian.”
Favo’s expression became unreadable for a moment. Then he seemed to shake it off, responding, “No, I’m not looking for protection. I’m looking for revenge.”
“I don’t see how I can help you with that, either,” Cousins said.
Following a deep sigh, Favo explained, “I think I may have a lead on Molla – I’m fairly certain I know who she was working for, but to investigate this I’m going to need to do a lot of digging around. I might even need your help for some of it, but also…” He gestured around the room. “I was honest when I said I needed to change things around here. Call it a result of my near-death experience, but I believe I need to shift this organization into something that won’t result in quite so many attempts on my life.”
Cousins nodded pensively. “I can see that being a challenge.”
“But don’t you see? You know the side of this town that would not open its doors to me – might not give me the chance to change. And yet, not to make too fine a point on it, I still need to make money. It’s just… I haven’t the slightest notion of how to do that honestly.”
For the first time, Cousins realized he was truly tempted to accept the offer. He’d been essentially on his own for most of his life – certainly, he had a very notably extensive extended family of sorts, but they weren’t the sort of people you turned to in your hour of personal need.
This would give him a solid foundation to build on – capital to invest, and so forth – and give him a chance to even potentially be involved in the Oldtown political process. That alone was a factor which played heavily on his decision, as having more access to the town council was something that he’d had his eye on for several years now.
Favo saw the wheels turning in Cousin’s mind, and decided to start laying down some details of the benefits Cousins could expect.
“You’ll have your own apartment – I have several to spare that you can choose from – and you’ll have your own staff and personal retinue. Or, if you prefer, you can choose your own from my people. You’ll have a budgetary allowance, as well as having all your personal needs financed - - I trust that you’ll find ways to keep my organization’s budgetary balance favorable during your transitional plan.” Taking note of Cousin’s unchanged expression, he said finally, “And, as a show of my good faith, I give you this.” Favo tossed a small key ring to Cousins. On the end of the ring was a single silver key.