Purveyors and Acquirers (The Phosfire Journeys Book 1)

by Unknown

  Liddea waited until everyone was asleep. She was tired but had slept most of the day, recovering from the effects of the drug used on her. When she stood on her toes, she could just reach the sill of the small opening in the back wall. She pulled herself up and looked out through the bars. There was not much to see. The moon was yet to rise. The sky was partly cloudy, and only a few stars had braved the darkness.

  Four lines of script, comprised of symbols, letters, and a rare number, were carved into the wood. The writing threaded between the bars and along the frame of the aperture. They were joined together by a large glowing green character, K.

  Her arms and hands began to tire, so she lowered herself down. A thought kept trying to make itself known to her, but she was unable to bring it forward. It had something to do with runes, but what was it? She eased quietly over to the door. Script was engraved around the frame, as well. A few of the symbols were luminescent. She needed more light if she was going to closely examine the texts placed into the surfaces of the chamber. The lines of conjure served a purpose, one she assumed was not to her benefit.

  She returned to her mattress and stretched out. Even though she was no longer tired, she needed to get some rest. Her roommate’s noisy breathing, the smell of unwashed bodies, an uncomfortable mattress, and her own restlessness made it difficult to fall back asleep. As she was about to doze off, her subconscious finally released the memory that had broken free. Qwen had stated, “When the runes are disrupted, the casting is broken.” But how did one disrupt a rune?

  Now I’m wide awake, she thought. I might as well see what I can figure out. She listened quietly to make sure her roommates were still sleeping. She checked to make sure no one was observing them from the door. Satisfied, she pulled off her pants, removed her Fang from its sheath, and then used it to remove the picks she’d sewn into her clothes. The freed picks were relocated to a pocket and the sheath placed on her forearm, under her shirt sleeve. She returned the Fang to its cover.

  As she crept to the door, she looked into the lock and peered through to the other side. She hadn’t thought her captors would be stupid enough to leave the key inside the lock for her to push out and retrieve. Picks in hand, eyes closed, she explored the mechanism with her tools by touch. The time she had spent under the Hood allowed her to relax and picture the interior of the lock clearly in her mind.

  Liddea used her tension wrench to apply pressure to the cylinder while simultaneously using her spring pick to feel the pins. Good. Only three pins, she thought to herself. The tip of her tongue escaped from between her lips as she concentrated on her task, put the pins into a neutral position, and then eased one at a time until she felt it seat in its set position. As the third pin moved into its proper place, her tension wrench turned. The lock opened with a soft click.

  She pushed gently on the door just enough to confirm it would open. She then closed the door and reengaged the lock. The task became much easier as she developed familiarity with the mechanism. She returned to her mattress only to discover she still couldn’t sleep, as figuring out a way to disrupt the runes continued to play in her mind. She wondered, since the conjure was carved into the wood, perhaps changing the rune’s shape or cutting it out would disrupt the casting?

  She got up. With the Fang between her teeth, she pulled herself up to the wall opening and locked her right arm through the bars to hold herself in place. If she’d had Fronc’s strength, she could have maintained this position and taken her time working. Ha! I need to be quick about this task.

  She took the Fang in her left hand, and then used the blade to attempt to cut out the illuminated K. The tip of her Fang glowed hot as she used it to chisel the rune from the wood. As acerbic smoke rose from the surface and stung the membranes of her eyes and nose, she had to lower herself down and quickly cover her mouth. The fit of coughing that exploded was just barely muffled in the crook of her arm. Liddea looked toward her companions and was relieved none had been awakened.

  A slight haze persisted around the opening. She took a deep breath and pulled herself back up. The muscles in her right arm soon tired and began to cramp. She had to frequently lower herself to the floor and rest. The process was time-consuming, but she developed a rhythm, alternating arms to anchor herself and dig. She’d take a breath, hold it, pull up, dig, lower back down, and breathe.

  Her body warmed to the task. Sweat trickled down her sides. It took eight cycles before the symbol lost its glow and was obliterated. The wood was scorched where the rune had been, and the tip of her blade was blackened. She would have to wait for a future time to inspect the Fang and determine if it had been damaged.

  She looked up after putting the blade in its sheath and noticed that the haze she’d produced was flowing out of the chamber through the opening. Pulling herself back up with trembling muscles, she felt a refreshing breeze caress her face and could hear sounds that originated from outside the ship. The air evaporated the moisture from her hair and skin and carried her body’s essence from the room until her painful arms forced her to pull away from the pleasant respite.

  Tired, she returned to her mattress and massaged the cramps in her arms. Once the discomfort had eased, she stretched out and, after taking one last look at her fellow prisoners as they slept, attempted to rest for what remained of the night. She was about to let her body finally rest when, with a start, she realized that she’d seen Tilly staring at her.

  She put her finger to her lips in the universal sign to “say nothing.” Tilly gave her a quick nod and then closed her eyes.

  We need to leave. Tomorrow would be good, Liddea thought to herself before sleep claimed her.

  ***

  Zeal was the last of the apprentices to arrive to the Temple common room for breakfast. He reached for a glass of milk and exchanged greetings as he sat down.

  Mehrle leaned toward him. “We’ve talked to Tulip, and she won’t tell us what the two of you have been up to since we separated yesterday. So give.”

  He ignored the expectant looks. “Now is not the time, but soon. And it isn’t safe to discuss the subject here.” He began to eat and didn’t speak further.

  Mehrle gave him a long, hard look and was about to say something further when Tulip quietly said, “I agree. The Mouse has it right, and everyone should know better. This room has many ears.” She looked around at the other Temple residents who were enjoying their breakfast. “Everyone have their kit prepared?”

  A subdued chorus answered back, “Yes.”

  “So, what is the plan?” asked Nester.

  Mehrle nodded. “We go see Qwen, just as expected. The more we hold to our routine, the fewer restrictions we’ll have on us. So finish eating, then off to Qwen’s place.”

  ***

  Qwen took the pan of beryl berry scones from the oven and placed them on a rack to cool, attempting to keep himself busy while he waited for the children to arrive. Frustrated at his lack of success in locating Liddea, he sought comfort in his kitchen. His companions had returned earlier that morn. After resting, they would go out again. One of the Zephyrs still monitored the children, at his request.

  Qwen thought back on how upset Liddea had been when he’d informed her that she might not be a practitioner. Her tears had surprised and touched him. He had tried to console her and had given her his square to dry them. Wait, he thought. She took my square with her. That was it! The square could be the answer.

  At that moment, his front door opened, and he was informed of the apprentices’ arrival.

  He placed the scones on the table and yelled, “Come on in! Everyone have a seat! I’ll get the milk from the chiller and then join you.”

  He was gladdened by the young ones’ dash to the table. Food was grabbed even before bottoms were seated.

  “Qwen, have you been able to learn Liddea’s whereabouts?” Fronc asked around a mouthful of scone.

  “No, I’ve not. But I do have an idea that I would like to try. Liddea is protected from conjure to p
revent her from being located. But there is the possibility that the casting is specific and was not made to prevent a mundane object from being located. When Liddea left here, she had a personal item of mine, a linen square. If she still has the square, I can use a conjure to locate it. Then we may find Liddea, as well.”

  Fronc lowered his half-finished scone. “Then you have to conduct the conjure right away.”

  Zeal set the empty crock of jam on the table. “Can we help?”

  “Can we watch?” Nester chimed in.

  Qwen held up his hand to stop further questions. “You can observe, as before, so finish eating while I go prepare. I’ll call for you when I am ready to start.”

  He got up from the table and moved into his workroom. At his work bench, he removed a linen square from one of his many pockets and placed it on the bench. He had made all his squares from the same bolt of blue fabric.

  He selected a scroll from amongst the many stored in compartments on the wall, and unrolled the parchment next to the square. He placed small, sand-filled leather bags on the corners to prevent the material from curling. Laughter from one of his companions, pitched for his ears alone, caused him to turn and look behind him. Five pair of eyes watched him closely from the doorway.

  He smiled and shook his head. “Come in then. Take your places, as before.”

  Zeal whistled. “Is that a map of Arlanda?”

  Qwen nodded then pointed with a finger. “My cottage is here.”

  Tulip pointed at the map. “Did that building just disappear?”

  Qwen closed his eyes and touched the map’s edge. “Ah, the structure was torn down this morn. This map has been conjured to accurately show the city. Changes made in Arlanda will eventually record themselves. Now, no more questions for the moment.”

  He separated a thread from the square and placed it on the map where his home was located. He removed one of the sand weights and replaced it alongside the mirror from the day before. He made a subtle gesture and said, “Inven Alt Altum Quaesit.” Qwen had ordered, “Find your mate.”

  The thread on the map started to move. It undulated in a circle around Qwen’s home. Qwen placed his finger on the map. “No, not here. Go look elsewhere.”

  The thread wormed away. It traveled across the city till it arrived at the wharf and began moving in a circle around the symbol of a ship. Qwen quickly looked to the mirror. The edge of it glowed. Although the fog was gone from the center, all that was left to be seen was darkness. No image of Liddea was present.

  Qwen looked up toward two of his companions who were floating above him. Their forms flowed to and fro, the size of children aged eleven seasons with twice an adult’s strength. He had learned to see the wisps of condensation that gave definition to the Zephyrs’ swirling bodies, some parts expanding while others contracted. “She is at the wharf. Go look there please.” As he picked up the linen square, the mirror dimmed. “It is time for us to meet with Trade Master Slag. I think we have a clue to Liddea’s location. That is if she still has my square.”

  He left the room and was followed out the house by the children. Before exiting the cottage, he donned a sky-blue, wide-brimmed hat with a large white feather. “Locate the one called Slag. Guide me to him, please. He may be in his workroom.”

  “Why does Qwen keep talking to himself?” Zeal asked the others.

  Mehrle shushed. “I don’t know, but let’s not discuss it right now. I think we are about to find out where Liddea is.”

  Qwen smiled as he strode away from the cottage, accompanied by his ducklings. They, along with his bit of success, had lightened his darkened mood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SLAG HAD JUST begun a meeting with Officer Sloan when the door of training warehouse burst open. Qwen entered, followed by the apprentices, and closed the door behind them. “Master Qwen, this is not a convenient time for you and your charges to visit. I have business I need to conduct with the Officer here.”

  Qwen nodded toward the children. “I think your business and ours are one and the same.”

  “Perhaps you should explain then what you mean.”

  “I have an idea of where Liddea may be.”

  Slag was intrigued by Qwen’s announcement. “Officer Sloan, this is Master Qwen. With him are Mehrle, Tulip, Nester, Fronc, and Zeal.”

  “I am pleased to meet all of you.” Sloan gestured toward the children. “Are you sure we should discuss this in front of them?”

  Qwen challenged the question. “They have already helped me in the search for Liddea. I think they should be encouraged to participate.”

  Slag had to stop himself from smiling in appreciation of Qwen’s standing up for the young ones. “I agree. They can stay. Qwen, why don’t you begin? Tell us why you all are here. You may speak freely. Sloan is family.”

  “The previous morn, my assistants delivered to me a cherished item of Liddea’s which I attempted to use to scry out her location. I was surprised to discover a conjure had been cast that prevented my success. Earlier today, however, I recalled that Liddea had in her possession something of mine when she left my abode.”

  Slag turned to Sloan. “Sloan, Qwen is a Practitioner of the Arts. Sorry to interrupt, Qwen. Please continue.”

  “Prior to coming to see you, we were able to discover that my property is at the wharf. I believe it and Liddea are on a ship. Agents of mine are investigating as we speak.”

  Sloan cleared his throat. “Master Qwen, I have information I was in the process of providing to the Trade Master that possibly confirms your assumption.”

  Slag listened to Sloan’s recount of Matriarch Izlan and Lady Charion’s visit to the Watch House, Watch Commander Wills’s interference, and the destruction of their report. He finished with his following Wills to the wharf.

  “Most interesting, but what does this have to do with the intelligence presented by Qwen?” Slag inquired.

  “Wills approached and boarded only one ship, the Wave Dancer. I was able to learn from the dock master that the Wave Dancer is scheduled to leave on the tide in the morn. I suspect Liddea is on that vessel.”

  Slag turned to Qwen. “There must be a way to determine if she is indeed on the ship. Qwen, what can you do?”

  “My agents should be able to provide us with that information. They just need a little more time.”

  Sloan glanced over to Slag. “Who are these agents Qwen keeps referring to?”

  Slag wondered how he wanted to reply. He had always left it up to Qwen to decide with whom he shared the knowledge that he was a Tzefire and what that meant. He was about to give Sloan an answer when he was interrupted by Qwen’s sudden exclamation.

  “What? Where? Hold on. Let me go see. Everyone, excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Qwen said softly then gestured and vanished.

  Sloan took a step back and surveyed the warehouse and then turned to Slag. “Did Qwen just leave?”

  “Yes. We’ll wait. I am sure he’ll return momentarily.” He hid his amusement behind a stern outward demeanor. He could see, by the way his apprentices’ fidgeting and exchanged looks, that they had questions of their own but had wisely remained silent. They were trying very hard to remain seen and not heard. He would make them continue to wait a little longer.

  ***

  Qwen, who had assumed the form of a Zephyr, left the warehouse with his four companions and flew toward the wharf. Tempest, the first elemental he had befriended, indicated that he had discovered the scent of the small, surface-bound creature Qwen sought. As they flew toward the wharf, the air elementals periodically flowed their airy bodies together, sharing their thoughts, strengths, and memories. At times, Qwen included himself in their exchange.

  When they reached the wharf, he followed them to the rear of one of the ships. Liddea’s scent flowed from a small, barred opening. Qwen also smelled scorched wood and sensed a weakened warding.

  “Enter carefully, and do not allow any part of yourself to touch the surfaces.” Qwen elongated, thickene
d, and narrowed his form then slowly flowed between two of the bars. There was runic writing on the inside sill, and an Essential glyph had been gouged out of the wood. It would have taken an imbued tool to destroy the rune, given the protections embedded in the conjures. If not disrupted, the conjure would have certainly prevented their entry into the ship.

  Qwen rose near the ceiling of a small chamber and hovered. Five young girls, dressed, lay sleeping on mattresses on the floor. He recognized Liddea amongst them. Slag had informed him that the first local girl had gone missing over a moon ago. None of these girls looked starved for lack of food. They appeared to be in good health, although, from the musky odor in the room and accumulated grime, they likely had not been allowed to wash their bodies or clothes.

  He noted the runes inscribed on the walls and ceiling. Many of the conjures were so complex that it would take him a prolonged period of study to decipher them. One group of them was particularly disturbing. This cell was made to hold a Practitioner prisoner! If he were to assume his physical form or allow his airy body to touch any surface, he would be trapped there, along with Liddea and the rest. Who was this chamber built to hold? He wondered. The captain of this vessel had much to answer for and should know why this room was placed here.

  He was about to let Liddea know he was present when the door opened and a medium-sized man dressed in work clothes began to set bowls of food inside.

  The girls awakened, sat up, remained where they were, and stayed silent. All eyes except for Liddea’s were open wide with fear. Liddea held a cautious but curious look on her face.

  Using the heightened sense of smell of a Zephyr, Qwen noted the man’s stench that confirmed he chose not to bathe. The odor overwhelmed all other scents in the chamber.

  Task done, the man spoke. “We’ll be leaving this piss hole of a city soon. When we do, I’ll have a chance to come sample the wares. I look forward to enjoying your company.” He laughed as he shut the door.

  Qwen heard the lock turn. This one would pay dearly, he thought, certain that he or his friends could easily find him in the future just by his rankness.