Lightfoot

by Joe Kuster

  He’d rather have had Rachel with him, but Kallista’s errands had not gone smoothly. It had taken flashing his crest to the guards to convince them to disengage after they’d cornered her in the market. She’d held up her writ as proof, but they hadn’t been interested in hearing about it. Since then, Rachel had opted to be her shadow while they got her provisioned, and they had brought Faith along in case they needed a messenger – or to murder someone in a deniable fashion.

  He could have taken Abby, but she’d bowed out, saying she needed to spend the day instrument shopping. Having no desire to be in a music shop after years of frustrating failures, they’d split up.

  The shopkeeper returned several minutes later, with a pushcart full of books, scrolls, parchments, and a chest of goods.

  The man bowed low. “Is there anything particular you are looking for, sir?”

  TJ replied, “Spells of any sort are of interest. For equipment, I’ll be adventuring for some time. Assume I’m just starting off, but will have at least three others with me, who also need items.”

  “Ah, quite wise of you to prepare. I’m sure the King will send you on your quest soon enough, and those tasks can be quite arduous,” Fenier said.

  TJ grumbled internally at the reminder, then nodded as the man set a tray of books before him.

  “These have been rumored to contain magic, but I do not know of what type. Alas, I cannot allow reading the contents to verify as they are rumored to crumble to ash upon transferal of the spell. So, they are quite attractively priced at ten gold each,” he said.

  He didn’t even need to open them. Instead, he mentally kicked off his detect magic spell, and his perception flitted over the bound volumes and immediately dismissed each. His eyes locked onto the gold lettering of a red book titled Fireball: A guide for home pest removal, but he regretfully had to pass it up.

  Shaking his head, TJ said, “Unfortunately, these are either counterfeit or not compatible with my magic’s portfolio. I can’t speak for all forms of spellbooks, but the ones I’ve learned from didn’t crumble, either. I suspect you’ve been had.”

  Fenier’s face fell. “Ah… I suppose it was simply too good a deal to be true. That’s probably why they sold them here, rather than with the guild. Perhaps I should have someone with your talent vet more of my merchandise.”

  TJ’s magical senses extended to the cart itself and then poked excitedly.

  Seeing the merchant’s intense disappointment at the pile of now worthless books, TJ gave the man a kind smile and pointed to the cart. “Well, that parchment case closest to the edge seems like the real thing. Although I have no idea what it does.”

  Eyebrows lifting, the man quickly schooled his expressions.

  TJ kicked himself. He was going to get grifted. He knew better, and he was letting his excitement show too readily. He should have just waited until the man ran through every other item on the cart.

  Lifting the case, Fenier read the handwritten tag. TJ’s sharp eyes caught the price of twenty gold in the lower-left corner just before the shopkeeper slipped it into his pocket.

  The man pretended to scrutinize the case. “Ah… the Count has an inscrutable eye for quality. This is a spatial spell. It is described as creating a small pocket in space to another realm and a mental magic spell to aid in item retrieval. If I had to guess, it’s much like the spell on your quiver. These often take an extraordinary amount of essence to power the enchantment, however. Typically, it takes crafters months to make single enchantment, or access to a mage circle. I couldn’t let go for less than one thou…”

  Seizing the opportunity to repeat something Rachel had done for him at the Red Briar, TJ interrupted, “Ah… that may be a problem. I’m relatively new to my magic and have never learned enchanting. I’m currently best at healing magic and detecting malicious intent and lies. That and making things explode.”

  Fenier’s lips twisted through several shapes, none of them happy.

  After completely losing his words, he cleared his throat and added nervously, “Ahem, uh… as I was going to say, it’s listed at twenty gold.”

  Nodding in agreement, TJ offered, “Let’s set it aside for now. It might be of interest, even if I can’t use it yet. Let’s see what else you have.”

  The old man produced a dagger, not unlike the one on TJ’s side. It flickered feebly in his magical perception. “This is a dagger enchanted with an ice spell. I can personally attest to its genuine nature.”

  TJ suppressed a sigh. He was certainly interested in the item, but the magic on the enchantment looked on the verge of breaking.

  “I, uh, don’t suppose this is at a significant discount compared to the custom ones I received a quote for yesterday, is it?” TJ asked.

  Fenier shook his head. “I can personally vouch for this item, but as you were likely told, most enchantments deteriorate with use. A new one would likely cost you three hundred gold and take six weeks to craft. This one is available today and for only two hundred gold. I’ve been told that it’s only been lightly used.”

  TJ gave a dejected sigh and shook his head, causing the shopkeeper to place it aside.

  Fenier eyed TJ skeptically, then opened the chest at the bottom of the cart. “Count, you mentioned only traveling with a few companions rather than a company of soldiers. If I may be so bold, how do you feel about making your travels more comfortable and secure?”

  He then produced a small box of stones that glowed brightly. The old man began explaining their use, and TJ couldn’t help but find himself nodding along.

  It took three hours of haggling. While TJ had only walked away with the spatial magic crafting spell, he’d been able to do a little better on the enchanted equipment side.

  He’d purchased several magical campsite stones that had integrated watch bell spells. A silver kettle and a complimentary tea box had also found their way into his parcels. He’d also picked up two dozen satchels of various sizes that only the owner could open and quickly rotated out the leather pouches on his belt.

  While every weapon the man had produced was nearly spent, he’d had better luck with single-use enchantments. They were relatively cheap but were typically considered a short-sighted investment. TJ agreed, but he only had days to prepare, not months.

  Once Fenier had found out that TJ didn’t want to wait for customized equipment, the old man did a bit of exploring in his storage room and brought forward several quite dusty boxes with what appeared to be military markings. He produced crates of crossbow bolts that would cause a fiery explosion. They might have been worth a lot on the frontlines of a campaign to raze a city, but interest in them was low in the middle of the kingdom. TJ, however, had a very different use in mind.

  Once they’d had that sorted, Fenier had resorted to putting nearly anything and everything in front of TJ. Most of it was junk, but TJ did pick up the rusty old lantern that could supposedly penetrate any type of darkness. Lastly, TJ had picked up a low-grade magical mapping kit.

  He’d been hoping for a more elaborate map, but it was all Fenier had in stock. It was the type that could only detail a two by two-mile area. It would do so automatically as the holder wandered around. It could be blanked out and reused, but it didn’t have any of the fancier capabilities that could shrink or expand on specific areas that he’d hoped for. If he wanted to retain a copy of the region map before erasing it, he’d have to duplicate it by hand.

  With that in mind, he’d gone to a more traditional store to pick up a non-magical cartographer’s kit and every general traveler’s map that he could lay his hands on. Being able to fly wouldn’t do him any good if he couldn’t get where he was going. The birds-eye view helped, but he needed markers that he could see from the air or a good sense of direction and distance.

  Since he would have to do some of it the hard way, he’d also picked up a few books on navigation. The tomes were short but absolutely packed with little tricks of the trade. He’d never heard of triangulation, but as he wander
ed around, he’d found that he could accurately locate where Abby and Rachel were on the map by merely ticking off the angles of their bond. He played around with it as a game of hide-and-seek as they went about their day shopping.

  All told, he’d dropped nearly a thousand gold upgrading the party’s equipment and far more than he was comfortable admitting on his stockpile of ammunition. Sadly, he’d ended up paying the asking price on everything. He just didn’t have any room for negotiation as word of his wealth traveled.

  After he’d caught a few shopkeepers changing prices on items as he walked up, TJ decided that he’d have to let the ladies do the shopping until they left Ardsville. He gave Faith’s bond a little tug as he grabbed a snack at a street vendor. He handed over ten copper and received a piece of salty dark bread tied in a knot. He’d never seen anything like it, and it smelled delicious.

  Once his familiar arrived, he sent her back with messages to the others. His grand plan for the day was going back to the inn for a nap and to see if he could enchant the pouches.

  Four hours later, TJ was drunker than shit.

  He took another long pull from the little bottle of rye whiskey. Finishing it, he set it next to the three empties beside his bed. He’d run out of the good stuff and was slowly buying the inn out of every type of hard liquor they had.

  His head sloshed side to side as he worked. He was as blitzed as he’d ever been on this world. It was everything he could do to keep the spell form together. Scraping together the weeping trickle of the mana he gained from his oaths, he pushed it into the bag. It disappeared into nothingness, not even giving him a hint of how close he was to completion.

  The initial spell had been simple but brutally hungry. So much so that it had instantly drained his pool. Not being in a rush, he left the thread intact, not sealing the spell. Once that was done, he was wound up and alone, so he’d opted to start drinking to fill the void while he dumped batches of energy into the enchantment.

  His oaths were chanting in the background of his mind, egging him on to have just one more shot. It also grumbled about an inability to show off his dance moves.

  The common room had been deserted aside from a boy playing the flute and the staff having an off-hours meal. Still, TJ had bribed the flutist to play something chipper that he could dance to. After confirming that TJ wasn’t having a seizure, the gruff bartender had asked the musician to leave before TJ hurt himself.

  He wasn’t sure why they were so put off. They all seemed to be smiling and clapping along with him. Just when he thought someone would join him, one of the maids had offered to show him back to his room. When he’d protested, the barkeep had said they’d just made a new rule that any nobility couldn’t dance in the common room, as commoners couldn’t compete with such majesty.

  Sloshed out of his gourd, he’d just been confused by the shared giggles among the staff. After some debate, the maid had tugged him up the stairs and dropped him off in his room.

  It had taken him an hour to figure out that they were messing with him. Eyeing his drink, he decided he could always try again later once the place was packed. They couldn’t keep him contained forever.

  Slowly stumbling to his feet, he managed to find the chamber pot behind the changing curtain and relieved himself. Given his sharp nose, he’d typically hit the outhouse rather than deal with the smell inside the room, but he doubted he could negotiate the stairs.

  Pulling his robes back into place, he flopped face-first onto the bed. His mind traced the leather pouch in his hand. He’d already accepted ownership, so he could open it without issues, but most of the others he’d left unbound so they could be divvied up among the group. Each time he picked them up, there was a strange feeling, as though they were begging to be used, but unless he mentally accepted, they remained unassigned.

  There was a soft knock at the door. His magic flitted forward, and he recognized it as his bond to the group’s newest member.

  Slurring his words, he called out, “Come in, Kalli.”

  Easing through the door, he saw she was wearing the same dark outfit that obscured everything but her eyes. He could only get the occasional peek of the gray tunic and loose rumpled pants she wore under her cloak.

  She dropped a paper-wrapped bundle tied in twine in the corner. “Mistress Rachel sent me up with your robes. They’re lined with light chainmail and have a few enchantments that should make them as good as plate steel. The guard threw a fit when they saw me shopping for a new man opener, so she’s finishing out my list.”

  He snorted. “Man opener?”

  “New short sword,” she said quickly, then added, “I thought you were joking about being a drunk. Getting smashed alone in your room. Fuck, that’s pathetic.”

  “Trying to power a spell, but hey, the more, the merrier. Grab a drink and join me. You can ditch the cloak and make yourself comfortable if you want. We’re stuck together, no need to hide your horns,” TJ said.

  She stiffened. “I’ve promised not to attack you. Intentional or otherwise. Serina made it clear that my words count as harm, and I know I’m not a pretty sight. I won’t be provoked into breaking my oaths because you’re too shitfaced to hold your tongue. I don’t take casual insults about my body lightly.”

  He drunkenly waved off her objection. “Bah, I can tell what you’re supposed to look like. You’re plenty pretty, just banged up. ‘Sides, I ain’t human either. Nothing wrong with horns. Yours are adorable.”

  “I send children screaming,” she said flatly.

  “Pbbbt,” he raspberried. “Human children don’t know any better. This whole segregating by races is causing way more problems than it needs to. Horns aren’t going to hurt anyone. No more than my wings, or an elf’s ears.”

  “I’ve got fangs. Big enough to tear out a grown man’s throat, and my venom can paralyze a horse,” she said.

  He gave a small laugh. “Hell, fangs can be fun.”

  She cocked his head, obviously trying hard not to call him an idiot.

  He replied, “I, uh, hooked up with a vampire once. There was always this implied threat. Like every time she kissed your neck might be the last. It was kinda hot.”

  “I… I can’t even process how stupid that is. Then there’s the rest of me… I’m a ruined mess. I can’t even wash my feet at the well. Everything is fuzzy, but I remember my kind wearing sandals decorated with our status. You could tell their family and status by what they wore on their feet. What is left of my toes make battlefield healers turn away in disgust,” she said.

  TJ squinted, trying to process her words. When he realized he’d already forgotten the beginning, he resorted to giving himself a little trickle of healing just to sober up just a touch. This seemed important to her, so he’d try to rub a few brain cells together. That and it was disorienting with how she was blurring into two distinct images periodically.

  “Kallista, look, the way my magic works, you don’t have a scar or freckle I don’t know about. I’ll fix anything you want. It just takes time. So, don’t be ashamed or embarrassed on my account. Just do what you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t bother me, I swear. If I’m lying, you can kick me in the nuts as a freebie. Now grab a damn drink and relax already. I’ll also ask Serina to back off on the enforcing words things. If I deserve being called a shitbag, you should be able to say it.”

  There was a tinkle of pressure in the air as his oath to her kicked in. The pair were briefly engulfed in a golden light as Serina made the requested adjustment. Kallista raised an eyebrow as she realized what he’d done.

  After a moment, she gave a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching down, she pulled one of the mugs from the packs they’d prepared for the night’s expedition and poured a small amount of liquor for herself. She passed the rest of the bottle to him.

  “Sorry… Serina has been whispering to me today, and I’m trying to adjust. It’s hard to believe that you aren’t working a scam like selling me into slavery or something. Pretty mu
ch everyone I’ve known my entire life is an asshole.” Pulling the barest amount of her collar down, she began to sip at her drink.

  “Pretty sure I’m an asshole too.” TJ took another pull on his bottle and grimaced. “Even if it got the guard off your back, that writ thingy made you my slave.”

  Kallista snorted in amusement and pushed on their shared connection. “You’re not even in the same league as Reav. Rachel taught me how to read you over our bond. You aren’t happy about the writ, much less the life bonds.”

  “Uhh… yeah. Not really a fan,” he admitted. “Rachel would have died without it. I still don’t understand why Abby agreed. She wasn’t desperate for power; I think she was just lonely.”

  “Well, even if you are an asshole, she seems happy. Rachel too. For me, you kept putting conditions in there until it’s basically an offer of a lifetime job, protection from the law, and a cushy retirement.” She swished her cup around, then took another sip. “Even if you don’t mind, it’s gonna take some time before I’m comfortable walking around in daylight. My last year in the guild has been brutal. I had a bit of a growth spurt, and suddenly they noticed I wasn’t a child anymore. Assholes started demanding ‘favors,’ so I’ve been sleeping in someone’s spider-infested attic instead of the guild house. When I called them out on it, they took it out on me by making sure I only got jobs that wouldn’t pay much and swapped my food to porridge only as a punishment.”

  TJ frowned. “Fuck, this world sucks.”

  “Mmmhmm.” She hummed in agreement. “Well, I appreciate Mistress Rachel calming down the guards. Pretty sure one was planning on bashing my head in to rape me anyway.”

  TJ gritted his teeth, and his magic flared angrily. At the same time, Kallista reached over their bond, scrutinizing him.

  She laughed. “That… that right fucking there. That’s the only damn reason that I’m not freaking out right now. You’re trying to figure out if you can kill that Skippy asshole and get away with it. Like I’m some sort of prize to keep safe. I’m a gutter rat, and you’re worried about some shit for brains taking what little I’ve got left.”