Losian walked out onto the street and looked both ways. The houses were crowded together, four and five story dwellings leaning together like old friends after a night of drunken revelry helping each other home, many looking like they had engaged in a bout or two of fisticuffs. The upper stories still had shutters, most repaired with castoff wood. The lower floors, easily accessible from the ground, had no shutters, glass, or even oiled cloth to stop the weather from dancing in the rooms. Below the street were what appeared to be dark holes, broken steps leading into murky cellar entries. The inhabitants of the upper floors were carefully never to go near these entry ways.<\/p>\n
Losian wondered if Scrivener knew how to defend herself. If the drawings had been tossed, it was in those chinks to horror that he\u2019d find them. He should wait for Gruthwin. They weren\u2019t places you went without adequate backup. He turned to look at Scrivener who was walking up and down the alley examining it, mimicking him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know what to look for? And if you find something, if it\u2019s what you want?\u201d she asked coming to join him on the street.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m a sprigner,\u201d he answered shortly.<\/p>\n
He set off walking along the street, peering into the cellars. It was virtually impossible to see what was down there, too much detritus.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are we looking for?\u201d Scrivener asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m looking for anything which doesn\u2019t belong here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Scrivener laughed. \u201cDo you like being inscrutable?\u201d She toed a pile of what looked like the dessicated body of a rodent, probably a rat. \u201cThere is not much food here. See, scrivener the rats are starving,\u201d she said in a poor imitation of his voice. \u201cLook closely scrivener and you to will be able to discern what is not visible.\u201d Now she was laughing hard enough that she barely got that last out. \u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s not that complicated. Tell me what you\u2019re looking for. I\u2019m not just a sketch artist,\u201d she said once the laughter had passed.<\/p>\n
Losian flushed, but quickened his pace so he stayed ahead of her. He didn\u2019t want her to see that her laughter had affected him. Was he that pompous?<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get it out of Gruthwin you know so you might as well let me help. Two eyes are better than one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSets,\u201d he snapped, \u201ctwo sets of eyes are better than one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s presuming that both your eyes are open,\u201d Scrivener said idly as she started down one of the cellar steps. \u201cThere\u2019s quite a pile of stuff down here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d Losian started to say as she descended the steps. The Scrivener gave a squeak and stumbled backwards up the few stairs she had descended. She landed on her rump, kicking her feet.<\/p>\n
Losian had his knife out and it flashed down, severing the tentacle of the creature that had her in it\u2019s grasp, dragging her up the remaining step. \u201cDon\u2019t you know anything? You don\u2019t go into alleys, cellars, or wander the streets at night, without protection,\u201d he snarled at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho knows. This had been a mage quarter a long time ago. There was an accident and a spell got loose,\u201d he knelt down and started to pry the tentacles still attached to her ankle away. \u201cThese are the remains. They are dying out, slowly. That\u2019s why people live several floors up.\u201d He waved his knife towards the buildings.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy hasn\u2019t someone cleared them out?\u201d Scrivener demanded, standing up and gingerly placing her foot on the ground.<\/p>\n
Losian shrugged. \u201cWho would pay for it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe king? Right, sorry I forgot. These are poor people. Can\u2019t spend money on them. Their barely citizens.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPatrollers patrol and our mages get rid of the worst of them. Most of the time they feed on strays.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStray children?\u201d she asked sarcastically.<\/p>\n
Losian shrugged. She was right. The poor didn\u2019t have many rights in Agen. Some of the older ferwardens talked about things being different before the king started to get sick. He wouldn\u2019t know. It had been this way since he had joined.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m looking for drawings,\u201d he told her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe ones the other scrivener had done?\u201d<\/p>\n
Losiana nodded as he looked around finally locating a long piece of wood that had not yet been scavenged for repairs or firewood and then for some stones. After gathering quite a few, he threw them down the stairs listening closely after four or five. There was a rustling sound, so he threw a few more and then there was silence. He drew his knife and carefully eased down the stairs holding the stick in his other hand. Once there he pulled the refuse piled in the far corner towards him so he could examine it in the diffused light of the setting sun. He could see nothing that looked like the drawings so he retreated up the steps.<\/p>\n
He repeated the process down most of the street with the scrivener gathering the stones and Losian checking the trash. They finally stopped when it got too dark to see with no sign of the drawings to show for his efforts.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are they so important?\u201d the scrivener asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are the pictures of the dead girls I\u2019m investigating.\u201d He threw the stick at a building. \u201cIt\u2019s like starting over. I\u2019ll see you tomorrow morning.\u201d Losian turned on his heel and walked away, frustration quickening his strides. He needed a drink or a fight or both.<\/p>\n
Losian walked into the building which contained the room he slept in. It was late, very late. He had eaten and then sat drinking bad wine for several hours brooding over the alley and the drawings. His building was at the edge of the Second Radial quarter, a butcher shop on once side and a green grocer on the other. It hadn\u2019t been sucked into the general decay of that quarter, not quite. He entered the building, nodding towards the landlady\u2019s door, slightly ajar. She was always there watching who was coming and going. On occasion, if someone was asking for him she\u2019d tell him. He climbed the stairs, feeling slightly wobbly. That last glass was probably one glass too many. He fumbled with his key but manged to get it in and the door opened. He shut the door behind him, trying to decide whether to just fall onto his bed or whether it was worth disrobing. A breeze ruffled his hair. He froze, his senses fully alert. His window was open. He never left his window open. You don\u2019t know what might come in from the night.<\/p>\n
Losian pulled his knife and sidled to the right trying to locate the intruder. He strained to hear some sound, any sound, a quiet breath, the sliding sound of clothes as someone moved, the rustle of leaves from his plants. Nothing. He stood there for a long time, and then a while more. Still nothing. He finally moved softly deeper into his room. On the right was a candle. He lit it and looked around. His window was slightly ajar, the night air making the leaves of the plants on the sill tremble gently. He made a circuit of his room. Nothing had been taken or disturbed as far as he could see. He never kept anything of importance here; a few changes of clothes, two plates and mugs, some food, rapidly going stale since it had been several days since he had been home, his books and his plants. He lit two more candles, the only luxury he allowed himself and went over to the stack of books. Several of them had been moved. He looked at them and carefully moved them aside with his knife. Underneath were drawings. He picked them up; his drawings, or rather Notir\u2019s drawings. He riffled through them. He thought they were all there. He\u2019d have to get his notes and double check. He put them down, moving one of the books to anchor a corner of the pile.<\/p>\n
This investigation was getting stranger and stranger. The alley, the missing bag, and now the drawings. The bag was still missing. He extended a finger to touch the top sketch, drawing on his power to see if he could see who had taken them. Nothing, absolutely nothing, a void. That he had never seen. Whoever had handled them had a knowledge of magic that was different, more subtle than anyone he had ever met. The mage from the alley? Why would she return the drawings? How did the person returning them know where he lived? Gruthwin didn\u2019t know and he was the closest to a friend Losian had in the ferwardens. Was it the same person who took them? Too many questions and he was tired. He decided against taking off his clothes. He\u2019d change in the morning.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Losian walked out onto the street and looked both ways. The houses were crowded together, four and five story dwellings leaning together like old friends after a night of drunken revelry helping each other home, many looking like they had engaged in a bout or two of fisticuffs. The upper stories still had shutters, most … Continue reading Chapter 6<\/span>