Inside, the walls were painted a creamy yellow color, with a mural banner at the top of every wall, depicting scenes of dogs tearing apart people and other animals. It was a strange theme to lean into, especially considering the bar’s owner was a rocyan. Given the rocyans’ history of being looked down upon as savages hundreds of years ago, Puk would’ve figured avoiding comparisons to rabid dogs would be preferable. But what did he know about cultural sensitivity?
The bar was well-populated, creating a din that would drown out anything they discussed, which was exactly what Puk desired. Better to keep a low profile in a place like Myrisih. Paradoxically, it was both harder and easier for a qarm to remain invisible here. To some, he stood out like a sore thumb with his brightly-colored skin and short stature, while the latter characteristic was precisely why others took no notice of him.
He marched over to the bar and pulled himself up onto an unoccupied stool. The bartender almost laughed, which annoyed him, but he let it slide. Kali remained standing behind him, assuming they wouldn’t be at the bar for long.
The man was clearly not who they were searching for, given that he was a man and not a woman. He had long, braided hair and rough stubble a few days old. “What can I get you?” he asked, his voice squeaky.
“Nithka,” Puk replied. “Or Niska. Whichever one is the name of a woman who works here.”
“Niska,” the man clarified. “She’s takin’ a smoke break. Lemme tell ya, though, little man—I can make anything she can, and twice as good.” He winked at Kali, and Puk almost threw up, not knowing if it was due to this guy’s lame come-on or the spit withdrawal.
“We’ll wait for Niska,” Kali said, stone-faced.
The man tottered off, grumbling to himself. It made Puk chuckle.
He was indeed craving a drink, and he considered ordering one when Niska returned from her break. Something smooth but with a little bite, like a short glass of Jyukian rum. It probably wouldn’t be a good look, though, to order something literally the day after assuring his partner he’d stay sober, especially while she stood beside him. He choked down the urge. Water would be better for him anyway.
A woman strolled behind the bar from a back door. She had the olive skin of a jeorn, but her platinum-white hair had been dyed green, and it had been chopped short and jutted up in spikes from her head. She wore piercing red lipstick on her lips, which she pursed.
“I heard you’re looking for me.” Her voice was low and husky.
“Yep. I’m a dipshit friend of Voya’s. More specifically, we’re looking for Haratti.”
Niska looked from Puk to Kali, then back again. Obviously they were not the usual type of people who came to her with requests such as this, and she could tell just by looking at them.
“Okay. Follow me,” she said, nodding her head toward the back door she’d emerged from less than a minute earlier. “I’m goin’ on another break!” she called out to her co-worker.
The man groaned and spat, “Oh, come on!”
- -
Niska led, followed by Puk, and Kali brought up the rear.
The woman brought them through a back door into the depths of the Rabid Dog. They passed a couple storerooms and a break room, then stepped through another door into an alleyway that Kali did not remember seeing a way to access when they were wandering the Mass.
Their guide did not speak to them as they walked, and neither of them tried to initiate conversation. Niska led them down the alley and into an unmarked building that she possessed a key to. The door opened up to an unlit hallway, the only light provided by a meager amount that spilled from four rooms, two on each side.
Kali did not like the look or feel of this place.
But she continued following Niska and Puk to the far left room and they entered to find a man sitting at a desk, scribbling away in a notebook, his work lit by a bright lamp.
He glanced up from his records and peered at the trio. “Hello, Niska,” he said. “Who are our guests?”
Haratti was an older man than Kali anticipated. His head was completely bald, sporting an impressive gleam from the lamplight. His forehead and cheeks were wrinkled, and his chin had a gray, neatly-trimmed goatee that came to a sharp point. He wore long, white sleeves that were cuffed tightly around his wrists.
Niska turned and gave them both a look, suggesting they introduce themselves.
“Name’s Puk.”
“Kallia.” She had no idea what compelled her to give her full name. Haratti’s presence was oddly authoritative, and she had lost herself to that for a moment. Puk shot her a curious glance.
Their host gestured toward a set of cushioned chairs in front of his desk and told them to take a seat, so they obliged.
He then asked, “What can I help you with?” Niska stood at the back of the room by the doorway, awaiting the conclusion of their exchange.
Puk dove right in, as he had with all of their interactions in Myrisih thus far. “We heard about a job you’re offering, and we wanted to accept.”
Haratti smiled, exposing crooked teeth yellowed by tobacco. “You want to accept without hearing any details? That seems unwise.”
“Yeah, well,” Puk shrugged.
“I have many open jobs,” Haratti said, amused by the qarm sitting before him. “Which are you inquiring about?”
“The book job.”
The old man frowned and set down his pen, leaning back in his chair. His notebook was left open. “I’m afraid someone else already accepted that one,” he said.
“Well, fuck,” Puk said in a sarcastically jovial tone.
“Indeed,” Haratti nodded. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his knuckles, deep in thought. After a few seconds of pondering, he said, “It might be your lucky day, though. Unless I can interest you in another job you’d like to blindly accept?” He shot a glance at Kali, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Why’s it our lucky day?” asked Puk, ignoring the man’s vague offer. She was thankful for him taking the lead.
Haratti explained. “The man I sent off to obtain the item should have returned by now. It is several days past when we expected his arrival. I suspect some ill fate has befallen him.”
That really bodes well for us two chumps, then, Kali thought bitterly.
“We’ll gladly pick up the slack,” Puk told the man.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Haratti said with that same ugly smile. “Pardon my saying this, but you two do not seem like the usual sort I collaborate with. Are you sure you’re well-equipped for the job?”
“Fetchin’ a book? I think we can handle it,” said Puk.
After hearing that something had happened to Haratti’s man, Kali wasn’t as confident as her companion, but she held her tongue.
“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Haratti said. “Which is something you would know if you had asked for the details. The book is called Malum. Have you heard of it?” They both shook their heads, and he continued. “I wouldn’t think so. It’s an ancient text. It, along with a few other similar titles, was stolen from a library in Bral Han thirty-eight years ago. It is a text on the practices of red magic.”
Red magic had been outlawed for years—since long before Kali had been born, and long before the books in question were apparently stolen. She only knew of it from history lessons, never from reports of anyone practicing it. It was also colloquially known as blood magic; it involved the user bending reality. Casting breathtakingly realistic illusions or literally reshaping reality itself. It was deemed too powerful and dangerous.
“All the texts on red magic were ordered to be destroyed twenty years ago,” Kali blurted out. It was a factoid she’d learned from Lissia at some point during her Repository studies.
Haratti nodded. “Yes, twenty-three years ago, to be precise. In 1117. But this particular book was never found by the High Mages. The volumes that were already in their possession, as well as the other books stolen from the Bral Han
library, were all destroyed. But not Malum. It has eluded them.”
“The High Mages couldn’t track it down, but you think you have?” Puk asked, incredulous.
Another nod. “We have.”
“Where is it?” Kali asked, her interest piqued. She couldn’t imagine how Lissia would react to this news. Her sister would be positively foaming at the mouth, knowing such ancient and forbidden knowledge had been recovered.
“Some associates of ours tracked the book’s owner down to Pontequest.”
It was another story Kali had learned from her sister. A mighty airship called the Pontequest, named after the man it was built for, Barnabus Ponte, was sailing over Herrilock when it experienced catastrophic engine failure and crashed into the desert, killing everyone on board. The wreckage remained out in the sands, there being too much of it and too far out of the way for anyone to care much about removing it. The stories told that some nomads had, at some point, decided to root themselves and built a small town in the skeleton of the ship. In that sense, it was kind of similar to Seroo’s Eye.
“Pontequest isn’t real, though,” Kali piped up. Even Lissia thought it to be a tall tale.
“I assure you, my dear, it is a real place,” said Haratti.
“The ship was real, sure, but it crashed and got buried in the desert. That’s all. People did try to establish a town around it, but there was an accident or something that destroyed the ship. There were reports of it all over.”
Haratti laughed lowly. “That is the public’s general consensus, yes. But our associates have located the famed shipwreck and drawn up a map to it. They can confirm the township’s existence. Pardon my pun.”
Puk was skeptical. He asked, “If you guys know where it is already, why don’t you go grab it yourselves? Why even hire someone just to grab a book?”
“My boss would like his involvement in this affair to remain out of the public eye. He is well-known in the community, and believes that if any of his usual associates were involved, it would be traced back to him and it would become public knowledge that he possesses the book. This is not something he wants, hence an outside hire.”
It seemed like a flimsy excuse, but it wasn’t totally unreasonable. Kali asked, “Who owns the book right now?”
“We know the persons who stole the books from the Bral Han library were two jeornish mages-in-training named Kleus Saix and Michio Loz. They each kept some of the texts, but Loz’s were recovered by the mages. We believe Kleus Saix is living in Pontequest and still has Malum in his possession.”
Puk’s face brightened, his stalks extending slightly toward the ceiling. “The same guy’s got the book still? If he stole it forty years ago, he’s gotta be old as shit by now, right? This’ll be easy!”
Haratti said nothing.
“Is the bounty still the same?” Kali asked, trying to keep the conversation professional. “Ten thousand crescents?”
“Yes,” Haratti answered. His voice was like gravel.
She and Puk exchanged a look. Their eyes said to each other, Okay.
“We’ll do it,” Puk said, turning back to Haratti.
It was then Kali realized they had gotten slightly off-track. She said, “Wait. Why is this more complicated than just stealing a book?” Haratti had failed to elaborate before.
The man chuckled. “Have you been paying attention, dear? Red magic is the most dangerous form of magic in all of Ustlia, and every other text on the subject has been wiped out for two decades. Kleus Saix may very well be the last red mage alive, and he’s been honing his skills for forty years. Theoretically, he could conjure up any number of illusions or simply rewrite the fabric of reality to separate your head from your shoulders.”
He grinned devilishly, and another tingle traced down Kali’s back. She began to bob her leg up and down nervously.
Haratti asked her, “What about that doesn’t sound complicated to you?”
CHAPTER XII
CIVILIZED DISCUSSION
They accepted the job.
Haratti then produced a map that had been created by one of his nameless associates, showcasing the route from Restick all the way to Pontequest, secluded in the middle of the Gogol Desert. The old man told them to commit it to memory, as he would not allow them to take the map nor make a copy. Kali memorized a few different waypoints, including the travelers’ outpost where she’d injured Jeth as well as an isolated town called Weynard.
Afterwards, when they had departed from Haratti’s strangely secluded office and left the company of Niska, Kali asked Puk what he thought about everything, and his response was, “That ‘Pontequest’ is a really stupid name.”
He wasn’t wrong.
With their meeting concluded, they had no more business in Myrisih. Puk brought her to one of his favorite food joints in the city, a place that was no more than a stall crammed between two other establishments. The sign hanging from its roof bore no name, just the image of—well, Kali couldn’t actually decipher what the image was.
Having eaten a full meal the day before, Kali normally would be nowhere near ready for more food, but the severe lack of sunlight was provoking her appetite. Plus, Puk promised she’d want to try this.
As it turned out, he was correct.
The stall’s specialty was a dessert item originating from Vareda called a churrystick. It was a long, thin cylinder of fried dough coated in cinnamon and sugar.
She could never deny sweets.
The place sold churrysticks in two styles: either one single big stick, or a cup of several smaller ones. Kali opted for the latter, and bought each of them a cup.
They chowed down as they traipsed through the Mass back toward the unnamed cavern housing their inn. The dough was perfectly crispy on the outside and fluffy as a cloud on the inside, with a delightfully powerful sweetness from the sugar. She desperately craved more as soon as she crumpled the empty paper cup.
It helped to temporarily take her mind off their upcoming task, which was now filling her with anxiety.
It was idiotic of them to accept the job after hearing the risks involved. By all accounts, Kleus Saix was one of the most powerful mages in the world, and they were…them. A delicate little faif merchant and a toddler-sized alcoholic going through fire-spit withdrawals.
Who were they kidding? What chance did they have?
Yet the pay-out was too enticing. She couldn’t find the words to speak up during the meeting and decline on their behalf. She had let Puk confirm their involvement because, deep down, she wanted to be involved.
The risk was worth the reward.
Maybe.
As they walked, a question crept in, and she asked Puk, “Do you think maybe this guy isn’t as strong as Haratti thinks he is?”
“Who?”
Where the hell is your mind at? she wondered to herself, not for the first time while talking to the qarm. Aloud, she said, “This red mage we’re looking for.”
“I dunno, why?”
She tried to articulate her thought process. “It just seems a little odd to me that, if he really is all that powerful…why would he just hole away in some secluded village in the middle of the desert? Don’t you think a power-hungry mage would, I dunno, seek out more power?”
“I dunno,” Puk repeated. “Maybe he’s got all the power he wants there. Maybe he’s brainwashed everyone into bein’ his sex slaves or something. Pontequest is just a giant orgy, all hours of the day. Fucks and fucks and fucks.” He chomped down on the last of his churrysticks with glee, giggling at his own imagined scenario.
“Yes, maybe he’s fucking in a massive, writhing orgy all day every day,” Kali said, “but I’m wondering if maybe he’s just not that strong after all. Maybe he never could master the magic, and he’s just in hiding because he doesn’t wanna be executed by the High Mages or whatever.”
Truthfully, she had no idea what the punishment for the mage’s actions would entail. The jeornish were the only people possessing the power to cast m
agic, so she did not know a great deal about their academies or the practices of their mages. No one in her adoptive family opted for the magical route in their lives.
Puk brightened at her suggestion. “You think so?” he squeaked, a coat of sugar dusting his blue lips. One eyestalk fixed on her while the other looked ahead where he was walking. “It’d be great if he was just some wrinkly old man sitting around with his book. That’d make the job just as easy as I assumed it was at the start.”
“Yeah,” said Kali. “I wish we’d known about the whole ‘red mage’ part of it before coming all the way here.” She sighed.
“Cheer up,” said Puk. “We’ll be alright. We’ve come this far, right? There’s nothin’ we can’t handle!”
“We haven’t actually accomplished all that much,” Kali pointed out. “We stole some eggs from an animal and got someone to give us a ride on their boat. That’s about it.”
Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2) Page 26
