Alexander waved at his waiter, wordlessly indicating his cup. He sat at a table in one of the newest shops in Zydobe, a ritzy place called “The Brew”. It was a coffeeshop, extremely new and wildly popular among the upper crust of the city. Alexander didn’t exactly fit with his battered leather jacket, comfortable but hideous shoes, plain black shirt and worn slacks. His air of unconcern matched the richer customers perfectly, however. The same could not be said of his company.
The woman sitting across from him sat tensely on her chair, constantly looking about as people came and left. She wore a recognizable maid’s uniform, though she had nothing indicating for whom she worked.
Alexander had brought her to this coffeeshop on purpose. She would be extremely nervous that her employers would walk in and see her, and therefore more likely to let something slip that could help Alexander’s case. Alexander, however, knew that the Nave family frequented a coffeeshop much closer to their actual residence. It was also much more exclusive than The Brew, which would let anyone who could pay in advance enter, regardless of appearance.
“So, Natalie,” Alexander began. “Are you enjoying your coffee?”
The dark-haired girl nodded hesitantly. “It’s not a drink I’m used to, but it’s very good, sir,” she said softly.
“Please, call me Alexander,” he told her. “I’m no sir to you. I just want to ask you a few questions.” The concealer on his neck itched, but he forced himself not to touch it.
“About what, s…Alexander?” she asked. She had barely sipped her coffee.
“Just about what it’s like, working for the Naves. I might be looking for a position in the future.” To his ears, the lie was accompanied by a sudden hum in the air. Natalie was not blessed by Atmos though, and wouldn’t be able to hear it.
“The Naves are very good employers, yes,” Natalie said. “Lady Nave often gifts us with clothes and we get a trinket every Winternight from milord.”
“A trinket? That’s very generous of him,” Alexander said, genuinely surprised. Even with the modest staff the Naves kept, a trinket a year would be a heavy investment. “How do they treat the staff? Day to day, I mean.”
Natalie spoke so quickly, Alexander had to take a moment to decipher it. “Lady Nave is wonderful, always kind and offering compliments, letting us eat in the kitchen instead of outside like my last job, and she doesn’t tolerate any kind of mistreat -” She shut her mouth abruptly, her eyes going wide. Alexander leapt on the opening.
“What mistreatment, Natalie?” he asked, his voice low. “What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing!” Natalie sputtered. The air around her began to hum to Alexander’s ears.
“Natalie, you can trust me. Did Lord Nave do something to you?” Alexander pressed.
“Lord – no!” Natalie sputtered. The air went silent; she was telling the truth. “Lord Nave would never do anything to his staff!”
“Who, then? Is he seeing someone on the sly?” Alexander said, going as far as he dared.
“Of course not!” Natalie spat, clearly outraged. Despite her demeanor, though, the air hummed – though very softly. She wasn’t lying, exactly, but she wasn’t convinced of the truth.
It was good enough for Alexander, who sat back happily as the maid stormed out of the shop. Alexander sipped his drink, then pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket. He began to scribble notes.
Maid, Natalie. Uncertain of Lord’s fidelity, but loyal to household. More investigation necessary. He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, before his contemplation was rudely interrupted.
“Made a bit of a scene, didn’t you?” his assailant asked, plopping herself down without any invitation at all. Her short blonde hair contrasted sharply with Alexander’s own. His hair was shaggy and dark enough that people often described him as “dishwater blond”, something he didn’t understand at all.
Andrea’s hair, on the other hand, was so blonde it was practically white, like Kosmima-light trapped into physical form. She was a head shorter than Alexander, though her height disguised a wickedly strong street fighter; her other talents were even more hidden.
“Your marks are starting to show, by the way,” Andrea pointed out, laughter in her green eyes. Alexander grabbed his napkin and wiped the cosmetics from the sides of his neck, letting the tattoos that were the side effect of his blessing show. Cosmetics only lasted a few hours on them, anyway.
On the right side of his neck, below and slightly behind his ear, the mark of Tranquilus sat. It was a stylized representation of a calm day, straight horizontal lines connected by oblique ones. On the left side of his neck, exactly mirroring the first, his Algidus mark emerged. It was a depiction of three moons, one new, one half, and one full. Every one blessed by Atmos or Terros had two of these marks somewhere on their body, proclaiming their abilities. Alexander often had to hide his, since truth-finding was the most well-known of the Tranquilus gifts.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective Fields?” he asked. She smirked at him, while waving down a waiter, who promptly delivered a steaming cup.
“I was walking by, minding my own business -” she paused for Alexander’s derisive snort “- when a maid comes bursting out of The Brew in tears, so upset she doesn’t care that everyone can hear her ranting about some ‘pretty-boy asking what’s not his to ask, not respecting a lady’s wishes’ and et cetera. Naturally, I assumed you were involved somehow.”
“She said I was pretty?” Alexander asked, grinning when Andrea rolled her eyes.
“Cartwright, you know I don’t care where you poke your nose, as long as you’re staying out of my way. But take some advice: sometimes the best way is to not cause an enormous commotion.”
“All due respect, Fields, but this is my business. If you’re going to hire me, you can call the shots, but until then let me use my methods,” Alexander told her, letting a tinge of annoyance color his voice.
“Fine, Cartwright. Don’t say I didn’t try to help. You want to learn how to investigate without leaving a trail someday, you call me,” Andrea said. She stood, slapped a coin down on the table that would cover her drink, and left the shop.
Alexander continued to sit and nurse his coffee. It was an expensive drink; he wasn’t going to waste it. As he sat, he watched the clientele.
Many were merchants, wearing the distinctive gold chains on their vests. Other than that, merchants were as diverse as any other group of people. Some wore fine silk vests, with embroidery and ornamented buttons. Others had simple wool vests, and still more had cotton – it looked simple, but was expensive to ship from Port Jakaran.
Others were from rich families. Perhaps the husband or father was a successful merchant, but the ladies that came in with their skirts and petticoats and jewelry had likely never spoken to a customer, only been one.
Isaac would say he was being harsh. Alexander did have a tendency to see the worst in people. He tried to think of how Isaac would have viewed the ladies twittering and gossiping at the booth a few feet away.
One was obviously a gemsmith. She wore a brown vest over a white shirt, and her Kosmima glyph, a multifaceted shining gem was displayed proudly under her eye. The second woman wore a dark wool dress, tight in the bodice but more relaxed in the skirt, accenting her thin waist and pleasant figure.
Alexander focused on the gemsmith. The shop was full of chattering customers, but with a particular mental twist, he could hear just their table, as if there were a glass dome around their area.
“So what’s he like?” the lady asked. She had her back to Alexander, so he couldn’t see her face, but he did notice her hair was clearly treated well by a stylist, and often. The chestnut brown curls cascaded gently over her shoulders.
“He’s very handsome,” the gemsmith replied. “He’s tall, and dark, and he owns an inn! He doesn’t have a blessing, which is a relief.”
“Didn’t you have a fling with a Tranquilus merchant one?” the lady asked.
“Yes, and it was awful! He could tell anytime I told a lie, which made…well, he wasn’t the most skilled man I’ve ever met,” the gemsmith replied, wiggling her eyebrows. They both began to cackle with glee.
Alexander released his concentration, and the noise of the shop faded back into his hearing. Isaac probably would describe them as “earthy and forthright”, he supposed, but all he could think was that they were shallow and rude. What kind of lady talked about her love life in public?
He dropped a few coins on the table, overpaying for the drink, and left the shop. He tried to find something happy to think about, and his thoughts immediately turned to Isaac.
It was only just past noon. Maybe he could go to the inn and catch Isaac by surprise, bring him some lunch. That sounded like a good plan. He began to walk toward Isaac’s inn, debating where to stop for lunch.
A shrieking noise completely distracted him. He whirled around, trying to find the source of the horrible sound.
A few streets over, something huge began to lift into the air. It was shaped like a ship, with sails, but no oars. From the bows and masts, strange constructions extended into the air. They were long poles with blades at the top, and the blades were spinning. The longer Alexander looked, the more absurd the thing seemed. But it was rising into the air, no question about that. Alexander couldn’t figure out how it was defying gravity. There was no storm, so it couldn’t be use of Ventus blessing, and he could see no sapphires that might be powering the lift. Even so, such a huge craft would make any reasonably sized sapphire shatter.
The strange sky ship lifted fully above the level of buildings and slowly turned. It began sailing south, away from the harbor. Alexander continued to watch, astounded.
Another ear-piercing shriek ripped through the air, and a cloud of white smoke exploded from several holes in the sides of the ship. It lurched forward in the air, apparently gaining speed.
Eventually, it cleared the horizon to the north, presumably headed to the government district. Alexander, and all the other passersby who had paused to gawk, began walking again. Alexander had to turn around to go in the right direction and he nearly ran over a person behind him that was still staring after the flying ship.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, making sure the young lady was all right. After a moment, he realized it was the gemsmith on whom he’d been eavesdropping.
“It’s fine,” she said distractedly. Her eyes were still focused on the horizon to the north, and she looked angry. Before Alexander could examine her further, she shook her head and walked away.
Alexander watched her go, bemused by her behavior. After a moment, he began walking toward Life Support, Isaac’s inn. Along the way, he pondered what Natalie had said, considering the other servants he’d interviewed. All had claimed the Lord Nave was faithful, but each had had a tiny shiver in their voice, proving they were less confident than they seemed. Natalie had mentioned some kind of mistreatment, and the gardener had been unwilling to discuss how the servants were treated, giving only that “The Naves treat us right and proper, and that’s that.” It was frustrating, but Alexander felt like he had enough to confront the Lord Nave and do a truth-reading on him.
A gust of wind tugged at his coat, and his senses seemed to dull. In horror, Alexander looked at the sky to the south. Indeed, a storm was brewing on the horizon. The weather-read he’d gotten the morning before was coming true more quickly than he’d imagined.
The storm that Alexander could see moving into the city would shut down his investigation for at least two days. He had to get some kind of solid information before it broke.
He found himself on a major thoroughfare. Carts and carriages rattled past, and pedestrians slipped among the horse-drawn vehicles with skill. Normally, he would turn right, heading down toard Life Support. He made a snap decision and turned left, traveling upward to where the Nave’s residence lay. As he walked, he looked for a messenger boy. Eventually, he spotted one, marked by his blue cap and satchel. He signaled the boy, who ran up to him.
“Go to the inn Life Support, and ask the bartender to send Gwen to the transit tower on Rose Street.” He gave the boy two silver coins. “Take a transit tower to the inn. Keep what’s left.”
“Thank you, sir!” the boy said. “Life Support inn, ask the bartender to send Gwen to transit station on Rose Street.”
“That’s it. Go!” Alexander replied. The boy took off, and Alexander kept moving. Instead of going straight to the Nave house, he took a slightly less direct route. Rose Street was several blocks down from the Nave residence, but it was the closest transit tower. It would probably take Gwen fifteen minutes to get to Rose Street. He could use that time to plan.
He reached Rose Street after only a few minutes of walking. Outside the transit tower was a small park that gave the street its name. Alexander found a stone bench and sat down.
His normal strategy in such a case was to interview peripheral people who would have insight, mostly servants. If the servants lied about the master, or mistress, and his or her fidelity, he would arrange a chance meeting and ask the suspect point blacnk. Usually, they responded with an instinctive denial, which he could immediately tell was truth or fiction. If it was fiction, he’d begin following the suspect. In winter or the rainy season, it was easy to follow someone unnoticed, and he could find the identity of the other woman. Or man.
This time it would be different. The sudden storm would eliminate his truth-sensing, and if the storm lasted two days he would hae nothing to give Lady Nave when she returned to him. He’d lose the case.
So he was resorting to desperate measures. He couldn’t confront Lord Nave in his own home, that would cast suspicion on his lady. Instead, he’d have Gwen pretend to be the mistress, and listen to their conversation from outside the house. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it had worked before.
He began to fidget. What was taking Gwen so long? He could feel the storm pressing on him, dampening his blessing. At the same time, the temperature was dropping, letting his Algidus nature emerge. That would be a bit useful, if Gwen would just show up!
For a few more interminable minutes, he waited. Eventually, a familiar red-headed woman walked out of the transit tower. Gwen was older than Alexander, somewhere in her thirties. She had worked as a waitress for most of her life, and in truth was better at bartending than Isaac. Isaac trusted her to run the place in his absence, and was considering letting her buy into part of the ownership.
For Alexander, Gwen was a plant. She was a brilliant actress, even though she had no formal training as a player. She was beautiful, and she was exactly the kind of beauty an older man would look for during a mid-life crisis.
She paused outside the tower, obviously looking for him. She was dressed for work, a white blouse that was dangerously unbuttoned, a simple brown skirt that would not show stains, exotic but tasteful makeup, and pale gray slippers.
Alexander stood and waved to her, creating a tiny burst of light from his palm. She saw it and began walking toward him, ignoring the appreciative looks and whistles she was getting.
“I hope this is important, Alexander,” she said once she’d reached him.
“Oh, it will be,” Alexander promised. “I need the standard mistress act. You’ll get your usual cut.”
Gwen nodded. “What do I need to know?”
“Let’s walk and talk,” Alexander said. They began to move toward the Nave house, passing several very rich houses of pristine white stone.
“Lord Nave, given name Alan, might be seeing someone on the side,” he explained. “The servants are all unsure. They claim he’s innocent, and they aren’t lying, but they aren’t convinced they’re telling the truth.”
“That’s very subtle,” Gwen said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t think truth-reading could tell something that distinct.”
Alexander shrugged. “I get lots of practice. I won’t be able to do that here, though. This storm is too close. You should probably tell me a lie, to check.”
Gwen thought for a moment, then said “Isaac is seeing a woman when he’s not with you.”
Panic grabbed Alexander’s heart in a crushing grip, and only the vibration in the air that proved Gwen was lying kept him from running straight to Life Support.
“Gweneth Sienna, that is a cruel trick!” he said, unable to keep his voice free of his suddenly churning emotions.
The wind picked up, blowing Gwen’s hair about. “I’m sorry, Alex, I just wanted to say something I knew for a fact was a lie.”
Alexander sighed heavily. “Well, I can still hear a lie for right now, so that’s a relief.” They turned a corner, and they had arrived at the Nave house. It wasn’t as palatial as other homes nearby, but it did have two stories, many windows, and subtle strips of mother-of-pearl in the walls.
“So you go in and demand to meet with Lord Nave. Preferably in front of his wife, so he has to deny. I’ll be listening form out here,” Alexander explained. Gwen nodded.
“Am I tearful, demanding to be recognized, he should leave his wife? Or am I scorned, deceived, how dare he not tell me he was married?”
Alexander thought for a moment. “Let’s go with tearful. I don’t think his wife actually loves him, she just wants a hold on him. She certainly tried hard enough to seduce me.”
Gwen smiled at him. “You’re just so quaking handsome! And you don’t act like you prefer men at all. It’s very cruel to us womenfolk.” She winked at him. Alexander smiled back, then gestured to the house.
Gwen took a moment to compose herself. Incredibly, her eyes began to water with held back tears, and she marched up to the front door. Alexander followed. The cool air, promising the storm that was to come, masked the sound of his footsteps and let him move silently. If it got even colder he’d become difficult to see, and in snowstorms he could be effectively invisible. Of course, snowstorms never happened in the jungles or coasts of Aranda. He’d only seen one, when he visited the mountainous Port Jakaran.
He stood behind a potted plant in the entryway next to the front door, relying on the cold to keep him unnoticed from the street. Gwen pounded on the door, deep in character.
The door opened, and the butler emerged. Alexander hadn’t been able to speak to him, as entry to the house was not something Lady Nave had given permission for.
Actually, what he was planning wasn’t, either, but he wasn’t obviously connected to Gwen as far as the Naves were concerned, and she would give a false name anyway.
“May I help you?” the butler asked smoothly.
“I must see Lord Alan straight away!” Gwen said, her voice quivering with unshed tears.
“And who may I say is calling?” the butler asked, visibly unaffected by Gwen’s act. Alexander looked closer at the butler, and to his horror saw a Tranquilus mark on the butler’s left hand. He’d be able to hear Gwen’s lies.
Alexander focused all his attention on the butler. Another ability the cold gave him was confusing and dazing people. It wasn’t could enough to actually make the man do something he wouldn’t normally, but if he could distract the man, maybe Gwen could get in.
“My name is Eoin Fairheart,” Gwen said, giving a very working-class name. The butler frowned, and Alexander struck. To his eyes, blue sparkles began to glitter around the butler’s ears. No one else would be able to see it, and only someone with a very powerful Algidus blessing would even sense that something was happening.
The butler blinked, looked closely at Gwen’s tearful face, then nodded. “Follow me, madam,” he said, gesturing for her to enter.
Alexander sagged in relief when the door closed. He relaxed his concentration on the butler and closed his eyes. He pointed east, relying on his inborn ability to know directions, and drew on the air, focusing on his ability to magnify hearing.
The inside of the house was filled with activity. He ignored clattering pots and pans, chattering maids, and a gardener talking to himself about roses, and listened only to the quiet, hiccupping sobs of Gwen as she was led deeper into the house. After a moment, he heard the butler speak. “Lord Nave, a Mistress Fairheart to see you.”
The lord of the house was not thrilled. “Fairheart? I don’t know anyone by that – Eye and Needle!”
There was a gasp, and the sound of cutlery clinking. Apparently the Naves had been eating lunch.
“Lord Alan! I can’t bear being apart from you any longer!” Gwen wailed.
“Who in the storms are you, woman?” Alan snarled. There was no sign of a lie in his voice.
“Alan, I know you feel obligated to your wife, but what we have is so real! Can’t you feel it?” Gwen demanded.
“I would never treat my wife so!” Lord Alan roared. There was, again, no sign of dishonesty. “Get this harlot out of my house!”
The sound of a slap, a muffled cry from Gwen, and then sobbing. Alexander could not distinguish false crying from true, not by sound, but Gwen’s crying sounded genuine.
The front dor opened, startling Alexander out of his trance. The sounds inside the house dropped away, and his eyes opened. Gwen was lying on the path, a red mark covering her face.
Alexander waited for the door to close, then ran up to Gwen, helped her stand, and walked her to the main road. She had mostly regained her composure by the time they reached the road, though her eyes were reddened and the mark on her face was still enflamed.
“Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve been slapped like that,” she commented.
“Oh, Gwen. Still able to be sarcastic,” Alexander said. “Let me look at that mark.
Gwen let him touch her face, though it obviously pained her. Alexander focuses one last time, though he was growing extremely tired. His ability to heal was very weak, but for this, it should be enough.
Wind began to swirl around the two of them, a reaction to the power he was using. Every action caused a reaction; hearing lies and increasing his hearing were very passive things his blessing allowed. Healing was one of the most active abilities he had, and his lack of training made him sacrifice a lot of energy for a simple process. The reaction was an agitation of the weather around him.
But the red mark on Gwen’s face faded to invisibility. The redness of her eyes also diminished. She took in a deep breath, and Alexander took his hand from her face.
“You…might need to get some training for that,” Gwen said, her voice unsteady.
“I’m sorry, did it hurt?” Alexander asked.
“No, no…it just feels very…odd,” she assured him.
The two of them began walking. It was about an hour past noon, and Gwen would need to be at the inn. Alexander had basically finished his investigation, and with a storm blowing in would need to close his practice.
Neither of them noticed the figure in gray following them.
*****
Devon walked into the transit tower. He walked up to the clerk, a woman he didn’t recognize. Even someone who used transit towers as often as he did couldn’t know everyone that worked there, especially when clerks didn’t have to be Kosmima gemsmiths or adepts.
“Can I help you, sir?” the woman asked. She was a very small girl, with shoulder-length black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. She wore the outfit of a gemsmith in training, a brown smock over dark pants, with the Kosmima glyph stitched in white over the left breast.
“I need to go to this location,” Devon said, handing her the card from Judge Nitsin. The girl opened a book that matched the one from which Nitsin had copied. Once she found the page she wanted, her eyebrows shot up, but she gave Devon a destination card.
“Go to the third departure circle, please,” she said. Devon was surprised, since it normally didn’t matter which circle he used, but he nodded and thanked the girl before walking deeper into the tower.
The third circle had a much shorter line than the other two. Devon only had to wait for two people in his line. He handed the adept at his circle his card, and he gestured for Devon to enter the lampstands.
Te teleportation process seemed completely standard to Devon, until the part where he normally whited out. This time, his view of the tower fragmented and shattered.
Images whirled around him. He floated in a black void, unable to move or speak; all he could do was watch as the visions flashed through his eyes.
A ship floating through the air
The night sky on the ocean, constellations lit up like burning lamps
An inn with a staircase leading up to an outside door on the second floor
A ship, this time on the ocean, burning with blue light
A map, crisscrossed with brilliant gold and blue lines
With a snap, and a roar that sounded louder than anything Devon had heard in his life, he arrived.
He stumbled out of the arrival circle, clutching his head. Waiting hands caught him, supporting him while he recovered his balance.
When he felt like he could stand, he brushed at the hands and they released him. He opened his eyes, not sure what to expect.
He was in a room that contained only an arrival circle. Directly in front of him was an older man sitting in an armchair. Devon, recalling, his instructions, pulled the envelope out of his satchel and handed it to the man. He took it with a nod of thanks.
A hand on his shoulder turned him around. Devon blinked in surprise. Around the arrival circle, four Kosmima adepts stood where lampstands would typically be. They were wearing medallions of agate set in gold, and each held a chunk of topaz in their hands. The adept with Devon gently ushered him into the circle.
The adepts began to hum, and their medallions glowed with a spectrum of colors. dEvon felt the vibrations of a teleportation roll across his skin, and as it came to a head, he braced himself. Just as before, instead of a white flash, a series of visions imposed themselves onto his mind.
A hammock strung under the stars, two bodies sleeping peacefully within
A kettle screaming
A man with black hair and stubble, kissing a woman with very short blonde hair in the rain
A blond man with long hair and a dark brown coat holding a searing blue flame in his hands
Just as before, he didn’t arrive so much as crash land. He stumbled forward, and was again caught by waiting hands. The dizziness didn’t seem to last too long and he managed to open his eyes and walk on his own in a minute or so.
He walked out of the transit tower, remembering to wave at the clerk. It never hurt to be on people’s good sides. He began to walk aimlessly; his mind was still shaken by that strange experience.
Had he just performed an inter-city jump? Or even an inter-continental jump? He’d never been on one of those; his year-long membership was only good inside Port Nanfula. He’d never even spoken to someone who had been on one. Well, in person at least. Probably a couple of his clients had.
Clients. Why were clients important? Did he need to do something about a client? Was a client going to give him something?
He looked at the sky. The sun was setting. Was there something important about the sun setting? All he could think about was the visions he’d just experienced. They were images, but he’d heard and felt them. He’d experienced the feeling of energy on the ocean, the passion of the two lovers, the rage and regret of the blond man.
He wondered who the blond man was. He had looked so angry and determined, and yet Devon had felt a powerful feeling of despair and loneliness coming from him. And what had those ships done to be flying through the air?
His dizzy ruminations were interrupted by a sudden shout and a body crashing into him. Caught off guard as he was, he collapsed to the ground, his assailant on top of him.
“I’m so sorry,” Devon gasped, pushing gently on the person to help him or her up. The person atop him pushed their hands onto the sidewalk and met Devon’s eyes.
His. Definitely a man. Devon didn’t get past his incredibly blue eyes. They were so entrancing. But, rather than stare into Devon’s eyes for eternity, the man pushed himself up to his feet and offered Devon a hand. Devon allowed himself to be pulled up and got a better look at the man who had knocked him down.
He was tall, very tall, with a muscular build and a square face framed by a wonderful black beard. He was wearing a sailor’s uniform – dark blue shirt with gold buttons, matching canvas pants and sturdy black boots.
“Sorry to run you down, maybe watch where you’re walking next time, eh?” the man said. He spoke very quickly; Devon had to concentrate to pick the words apart. By the time he’d figured out a response, the sailor was already on his way, whistling cheerfully.
Devon stared after him for a moment, then looked around. His bemused wandering had gotten him to the harbor district, about fifteen minutes’ walk from the central transit tower. He must have been more addled than he’d thought.
He looked up at the sky, which was darkening rapidly. The sun had fully set.
“The trinket!” he gasped out loud. He stomped one foot and a circle of yellow light sprang up around him. It woulnd’t be visible to anyone but another Petra. He focused on Gemsmith’s Row, the street where all trinket shops were located.
From the golden circle under his feet, a line of light shot out. It ran northwest, climbing up onto a roof, then leaping into the air.
Devon drew strength into his legs. To his eyes, a fine golden mist filtered out of the ground and into his muscles. He took off running, following the map lore. The golden line would guide him on the most direct route to the trinket shop, which would close soon after sundown.
He leapt, traveling an inhuman distance to land on the roof of a house. The map lore continued, bouncing from roof to roof. His ability knew instinctively how far he could jump and safely land, so he didn’t slow or hesitate, even when he was leaping across a major thoroughfare.
From the harbor district to the merchant’s district would normally take at least twenty minutes by road. Devon flew from rooftop to rooftop, above the notice of pedestrians. People in the buildings he used as his highway might notice, but he was traveling so fleetly no one would catch him.
The golden line abruptly dove down to street level, ending in a golden disc. Devon leapt, twisting gracefully in the air to land on his feet. He landed squarely on his target, which flexed and absorbed the impact of his landing.
Before dismissing the map lore, Devon thought the phrase “Judge Nitsin’s trinket shop” with a peculiar emphasis. A shop front to his left lit up with brilliant gold light. Devon smiled, and stomped his feet again. The light winked out.
He walked casually into the shop, even though he was buzzing with adrenaline from his rooftop journey. Business was all about keeping a calm, cool front no matter how you felt.
As he walked into the store, he noticed tha the few clerks that remained were all staring at him. As he strolled to the counter, he realized he was covered in sweat and his clothing was wrinkled and disheveled.
His primary blessing was Petra, a connection to rock and stone. However, everyone with a blessing had at least a tiny ability with all four aspects of their deity, Atmos or Terros. Devon could barely make a gemstone flicker, but he had enough sway over his Panida aspect to override his body in certain ways.
He smiled at the clerk manning the main counter, a young woman with dark hair and pale skin. At the same time, he drew strength from the stone floor and forced his body to reabsorb his sweat.
He immediately began to overheat, his body feeling like he had dropped into a tub of ice. The power of rock filling his skin kept him from falling over and vomiting all over the storefront.
“May I help you?” the clerk asked, looking somewhat confused. Maybe she’d noticed the sweat disappearance. Devon couldn’t spare any attention for an aura, so he simply got down to business.
“I’m here to pick up a trinket for Devon Knowles,” he said, smiling ever more brilliantly. His head was starting to spin. “Can you get it for me please, darling?”
The woman snorted, but turned away. While she wasn’t looking at him, Devon let the pores on his arms go. Sweat burst out of his skin so fast it literally jumped away from him, and his head cleared a little. When the clerk began to turn back, Devon clamped back down on his pores.
“Emerald and pearl, set in silver, to be worn on the wrist or hung around a likeness,” the clerk recited, handing him a package of brown paper. Devon accepted it, tipped an imaginary hat, and turned to walk out the door.
The room tilted crazily around him. He yanked moer power out of the stone floor. The more he pulled out, the more visible it would be, but as long as he maintained control long enough to get out of the store, he would be fine.
He stumbled when he hit the door, and when he left the store the type of stone under his feet changed. For one second, the strength of rock inside him failed. His vision blacked out, he stumbled a few steps to his right before collapsing to the ground, and his limbs started to spasm. As his mind fogged, he lost control of his skin. Steam burst away from his exposed skin, and his clothes were immediately soaked.
His mind cleared as his body vented the excess heat and toxins. He was lying facedown on a gravel road. Gravel was not the best stone in the world, but as he drew in power, he wasn’t going to complain that the road wasn’t paved in granite.
He got to his feet. He’d somehow managed to get far enough away from the trinket shop to not have been seen. He checked the package in his hand, making sure that it hadn’t been damaged, and dropped it into a pocket of his messenger bag. He began walking in the direction of The Laughing Maid. He didn’t invoke his map lore; he was so exhausted that even strengthening his body by drawing on the road barely kept him awake.
There was a transit tower just ahead. He made a snap decision. He’d talk to Sarah in the morning. He turned into the transit tower and headed home.
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