Things could be worse… and certainly had been before she’d found someone willing to rent to a shardless.
Water dripped onto the scuffed wooden floor as Taly trudged across the tiny room, peeling off her wet clothes as she went. How she yearned for the days when she owned more than one set of clothing. When she had abruptly decided to leave the manor and her life as the Marquess’ adopted ward, she hadn’t thought to grab any extra clothes. That was a mistake in hindsight.
Straining her ears, she could already hear the telltale sounds of the tavern’s kitchens opening down below, the staff likely getting ready for the lunch rush. Her stomach gurgled at the thought of food. It had been almost a week since she’d had the luxury of a full belly.
Looking at the bed stuffed into the corner, Taly debated just going back to sleep, but her stomach grumbled again, more insistently this time.
Okay. Shower first. Then food.
Except… Taly pushed aside the sheet that had been hung across the doorless entry to her washroom and turned the nozzle on the shower. Nothing came out. With a growl, she banged against the wall, rattling the fire and water crystals that had been embedded into a rusty metal panel on the side of the tub. The stones flickered, the tap dripped, but then… nothing.
Stepping up onto the lip of the shower, she peered over a small ledge near the ceiling. Two small violet gemstones—shadow crystals—were ensconced behind a jumble of dusty wiring. Unlike other types of crystals, shadow crystals could be used to store raw aether and then wired to power an array of different contraptions, including plumbing. The light shining from within the two crystals responsible for powering her shower was almost nonexistent, meaning that the crystals hadn’t been able to collect enough aether from the tavern’s primary aether grid to even allow her a cold rinse. This was not an uncommon occurrence. The last time she’d had enough water to take a full shower was almost three days ago.
“Happy birthday to me,” she sang bitterly, wringing the water out of her clothes as best she could before dressing. At the very least, her unplanned dive into Lake Reginea had done a good job of washing away the dirt and grime.
Pulling on her soggy boots, she hesitated, studying the dark navy jacket she’d found at the Aion Gate several months ago. Although she considered herself quite lucky to have found a piece of clothing in such good condition, she didn’t know how much good it did her soaking wet. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a replacement. When she made her initial flight from the manor, she had been wearing a sturdy leather jacket inlaid with a series of very expensive protective wards, but she had traded it at the Swap last month when the salvage had been especially lean.
With a half-hearted shrug, Taly pulled on the damp coat and quickly appraised herself in the small, square mirror hanging by the door. Running a hand through her shoulder-length tresses, she scowled at the figure that stared back at her. Tufts of straw-colored hair stuck out at odd angles in a halo around her face—the tragic result of her first and only attempt at cutting her own hair.
The hairstyle wasn’t pretty, but it was practical. Although she had loved her hair, after six months of trying to hold on, she had finally given up her long, gently curling waves. Vanity was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Grabbing her pack, knife, and pistol, Taly stepped out onto a small circular walkway that led around to the front of the two-story building. The sun was almost directly overhead now, and the sounds of the city filtered up from down below.
While Ryme was the second-largest township on the island of Tempris, that really wasn’t saying much. Compared to the fey cities on the mainland, it was an unruly, chaotic mishmash of different styles and cultures situated at the northern end of the island of Tempris. Being so close to the Aion Gate, they were always far more susceptible to adopting mortal styles and customs than the rest of the fey world, and as a result, wooden and brick hovels sat sandwiched between newer structures that had been modeled after a strange collection of mortal architectural styles. There were also, of course, more traditional fey homes—sturdy stone great houses that were all windows and arched eaves—but most of those were situated outside the city walls on their own little parcels of land.
Some of the locals were already filtering into the main room of the tavern. Stepping inside, Taly retreated to the far end of the bar top and hopped up on an empty stool. She held up two fingers to signal the man behind the counter. At first, he pretended not to see her, but she knew it was just an act. With a tired sigh, she rested her chin on one hand, waiting patiently. Eventually, he ambled over and unceremoniously plopped down a bowl of something that may have been edible at one time in the distant past.
The very distant past.
A slimy sheen coated the surface of the porridge-like substance, and when she poked at the mush with her spoon, various chunks of unidentifiable vegetable matter floated to the top.
Taly leveled a glare at the man, who stood watching her expectantly. “What is this, Jay?”
“It’s leftovers,” the ruddy-faced man grunted. For as long as Taly had known him, the burly barkeeper had always made a point to maintain a neat, tidy appearance. This morning, however, food stains peppered the front of his white shirt, and she had seen him wipe his bulbous nose with the tail of his apron at least twice since she had walked in.
Taly grimaced. “Jay, you are many things, but you’re not a chef. Why does Laurel have you working the kitchens again? This is the fifth time this week.”
Jay’s scowl deepened, and he scratched the side of his head, moving aside the wispy strands of mousy brown hair to reveal the pointed tips of his ears. “She’s sick again. Pretty sure she gave that crud to me too this time.” Turning to the side, he began coughing into his sleeve. Even though he was only a few generations removed from his closest highborn relative, Jay was still considered a lowborn. In addition to breeding away most of the traditional highborn traits, like the bright eyes and arched brows, having mortal blood in his veins meant that he was more susceptible to human diseases.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Taly said, refusing to back down, “but I don’t want leftovers.” She pushed the bowl away from her. “Especially cold leftovers.”
“People who don’t pay get leftovers.” He picked up the bowl and held it in his hand, casting a simple warming spell before dropping it back down in front of her. A piece of something orange (a carrot maybe?) sloshed out of the bowl and onto the bar.
Great. Now it’s warm garbage.
“For the last time, Jay. I don’t have to pay. Meals are included in my rent. That was part of my agreement with Laurel.” Taly frowned, flicking the questionable piece of vegetable matter at the disgruntled cook. “And also, my water’s out again. Can I have the key to the shower down here?”
“No. People who don’t pay, don’t shower.” He didn’t wait for her reply as he trudged back through the open doorway that led to the kitchen.
Raising herself up slightly, Taly shouted at his retreating form, “It’s called rent, you jackass! I pay you rent!”
Jay waved his hand dismissively, all the while grumbling something about shardless that didn’t know their place.
Taly leaned back on the stool and studied the bowl in front of her. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon when she had gotten lucky with some basilisk meat at the Swap. Needless to say, she was starting to get a little hungry.
Maybe it tasted better than it looked? Crossing her arms and eyeing the bowl dubiously, she leaned forward and sniffed.
Nope. Rancid. It was like Jay was trying to give her food poisoning. Which, if she really thought about it, probably wasn’t too far off from the truth.
It was clear by now that she would probably have better luck foraging the woods outside of town for her breakfast than she would trying to convince the surly cook to give her something decent to eat. With a sigh, she left the untouched bowl where it was and exited the bar to continue on about her day.
Most people she passed in t
he street tried to pretend they didn’t see her, but every now and then, someone would smile in her direction—other shardless mostly, but some lowborn fey as well. Every time someone managed to catch her eye, she would give them a polite nod in reply.
Taly froze when she heard the faint clink of metal drawing closer, and she turned her head just in time to see a group of Sanctifiers rounding the corner. Ducking into a darkened alley, she pressed herself against the wall as she watched the group of soldiers pass by. Their shiny black chainmail glinted in the morning light, and each warrior had an enchanted ax strapped to his back. A retinue of Gate Watchers followed closely behind. Beneath the crimson cloaks draped across their shoulders, the unlucky few that had been assigned to babysit the group of mage hunters wore scaled leather armor. Each carried a rapier, the weapon that most shadow mages tended to favor.
A glimmer caught her eye in the alleyway behind her—a subtle twist in the way the morning light reflected off a stack of crates. That could only mean one thing.
Taly pulled her pistol and pointed it at the ripple of water magic. “I won’t miss. So, I suggest you take that two-bit water glamour and go rob somebody else.”
A low snigger echoed down the alley as the thief continued to creep towards her.
Taly fired off a shot at where she assumed the pickpocket’s feet to be. The boy yelped loudly as he fell out of the unraveling water glamour, and the stack of nearby crates toppled over on top of him. Blood streaked the ground. She had managed to glance his ankle.
Taly’s eyes flicked to the street and back. If this had been a normal pistol with a normal firing mechanism based solely on fire crystals, the shot would’ve been loud enough to draw the attention of the people passing by. But this wasn’t a normal pistol. No—Skye had made her this pistol for her birthday last year, and that arrogant highborn had somehow figured out a way to incorporate an air crystal into the firing mechanism. The gun had almost zero kickback, and the sound barely carried over the sharp clang of metal against metal coming from the sparring ring just around the corner.
“That’ll be your only warning shot,” Taly said evenly. The boy’s eyes widened as she leveled the barrel of her pistol at his face. He looked too clean to be a common Swap rat. That meant he was probably just some local lowborn kid out trying to cause trouble. The wound on his ankle was already healing—not as fast a highborn fey could mend himself, and certainly not as fast as a shadow mage, but the skin had already managed to repair itself so that only a small red welt remained. Taly cocked her pistol, readying her next shot. The boy started scrambling backward, wrapping his magic around him as he once again tried to blend into the shadows. While she couldn’t easily kill him, she could still make him hurt. Taly smiled when she heard the sound of frantic footsteps careening down the alleyway in the opposite direction.
Re-holstering her pistol, she hid in the alley for a moment longer, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that the Sanctifiers were nowhere in sight. To her knowledge, there were no more time mages left in any of the worlds; they had disappeared along with their High Lady. But that didn’t stop the Sanctorum from finding suspects. Fortune-tellers whose predictions were just a little too accurate. The random lowborn that did just a little too well at a carnival shell game. The Sanctorum was always looking under rocks and listening for rumors, always guarding against the possibility that the long-dead scourge might somehow resurrect.
Taly often found herself wondering what would happen if they ever found an actual time mage, how much blood would be shed once those old fears were given new life.
Too many lives had already been sacrificed to that cause.
Counting to three, then checking to make sure that the street was still clear, Taly casually stepped out of the alley and continued down the street.
The Swap was just ahead now. The old great house that quartered the bustling marketplace had started out its life as a minor baron’s mansion sometime before the Schism. In the aftermath of the great disaster, it had been used as a hospital and then as a halfway house before it was finally condemned almost a century later. Any hint of luxury or extravagance had already been stripped away and sold well before Sarina, the Marquess’ younger sister, decided to refurbish the structure and turn it into a market. The roof still had a few gaping holes and children still dared each other to venture into sections of the upper floors that were “haunted,” but somehow this decrepit monument had become the center of trade for their little community.
As she approached, a cacophony of voices echoed from beyond the gaping, door-less entry. Shardless, lowborn fey, and even a few highborn nobles all swarmed into the front hall of the crumbling estate.
Weaving in and out of the sea of bodies, Taly pushed her way to the back of the building. To her right, she could see that Yoru’s new assistant had received a fresh batch of wands. Beneath the wooden exterior, each wand was inlaid with crystal circuitry and programmed to execute a simple enchantment. When the young shadow mage flicked a small switch located at the base of the handle, a gale of fire shot out of the tip of the poplar wand in his hand, singeing a few innocent passers-by and earning him some angry shouts.
Then to her left, an air mage had set up shop. The woman looked young, but most fey looked young regardless of their age. Highborn, Taly thought. If the arched brows and sharp cheekbones didn’t give that away, the amount of magic she was throwing around certainly did. The mage levitated a few feet off the ground, and a group of people had gathered around her, applauding as she lifted several small children into the air.
Finally arriving at the back of the main room, Taly turned and made her way down a side hallway. It was still early in the day for most backroom vendors, but she knew Josiah had most likely set up shop hours ago. While he might not have been the most above-board contact, the old trader had a knack for finding things. Like shadow mages that adhered to more flexible crafting policies.
She found Josiah sitting alone in the back corner of the deserted hall, his small booth almost devoid of any mentionable wares. Random pieces of obscure mortal tech hung here and there, but, overall, the scattered array of worthless junk made the little booth easy to ignore. At least for those that didn’t know to look closer. No, Josiah’s choice stock was only available to those that knew to ask.
Sunken eyes peered out from a haggard, wrinkled face, and Josiah scowled when he saw Taly approach. Though he was technically fey, Josiah, like Taly, was shardless. He still had the characteristic pointed ears of the fey, but his body couldn’t absorb enough aether to cast even the most basic of spells. Too many generations of breeding with humans had stripped away the two things the fey valued most—magic and immortality.
“Hey Josie,” Taly said, sidling up to the trader.
Josiah’s voice, graveled with age, carried a note of annoyance. “Taly. What do you want?”
“Good morning to you too,” Taly remarked, unfazed by his surly attitude.
“Don’t give me any of your lip, Caro,” Josiah growled. Lifting a splotched and wrinkled hand, he scratched at what was left of his hair. “Not after what I did for you.”
Taly scoffed, burying her hands in her pockets as she leaned forward. “Don’t act like you did me any favors, old man. I’m paying you far more than I need to.”
“You’re paying me because I’m discreet.” The trader reached behind him and pulled out a small, nondescript parcel wrapped in brown paper. “What do you think the Marquess would say if he found out his precious little girl was messing around with hyaline?”
“He’d probably send me to my room,” Taly replied with a confident smirk. While hyaline, or dead crystal as it was more commonly called, was highly regulated by an almost absurdly extensive set of laws, she hadn’t technically broken any of them. “After all, there’s nothing that says I can’t take a bunch of crystals that are just lying on the ground. How was I even supposed to know what they were? Without the proper tools, hyaline is almost indistinguishable from quartz. If questioned
, I could easily argue that I’m innocent—a victim of my own ignorance.”
Taly batted her eyelashes, and her voice was all sweetness and light when she continued, “I can’t say the same for you, though. I mean, you did test the crystals for purity before you agreed to smuggle them to Ebondrift. And you’re also the one that paid the crafters, both for their services and their silence. Face it, Josie. You’re as culpable in this little joint venture as I am at this point. Maybe more so. Your threats are empty.”
Josiah’s low chuckle sounded like sandpaper scraping against stone. “You’ve got teeth, kid.” He handed her the parcel. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Taly took the package and quickly stuffed it into her pack. “By the way,” she whispered, eyeing the door to the main room nervously, “I heard a rumor someone was trying to get rid of some time crystals.”
Josiah’s eyes widened in surprise. “And now you’ve gone and lost it… I didn’t take you for stupid.”
Taly shrugged. “Last I heard, the Genesis Lords in the mortal realm were trying to gather up the remaining time crystals. If there were someone with a stash, they’d stand to make some good coin when the Aion Gate opens.”
“If they managed to survive that long,” Josiah muttered. “Especially with the Sanctorum in town. Those butchers are edgy—you can tell just by lookin’ at ‘em. I swear to the Shards, if they break the treaty and try to hunt in the mortal realm, we’ll find ourselves in a full-scale war. The High Lord of Water is just lookin’ for a reason to break ties with the Genesis Lords in Arylaan.”
“Yeah, well… I think that scenario seems unlikely,” Taly replied, her lips a thin line. “Unless the Sanctorum finds something new to hunt. There aren’t any time mages left—even in the mortal realm.”
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