The Chimney: The Merc Papers

by G. T. Spoor

  “I know.” Although he had made a pretty compelling argument in favor of the theory. “But in a way, I am responsible. The mystic got to Hardbrew while I was protecting him.”

  “It’s not like we could have foreseen the assassin finding out where we were keeping him.”

  “Still, I should have been more vigilant. I let my guard down and Hardbrew paid the price.”

  “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” Berk said. “This is what I was trained for. Protecting people is part of my job. I should never have put Sarah’s address in that report. I should never have left you guys alone last night. I should have stayed with him until morning and escorted him to Red Wolf headquarters personally. I broke procedure.”

  “So, we’re both to blame.”

  “But I was the one who gave the box of death to him in the first place,” Sarah said from the back seat.

  Emily threw her hands up. “Then all three of us are to blame.”

  “I guess,” Berk grumbled. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Nor me,” Sarah added.

  “Okay, so we’re all in agreement. We’re all responsible for Hardbrew’s death, and we all feel bad about it. Now, maybe we should find out who actually sent the assassin.”

  “You think this Mira person will be able to help us?” Berk asked.

  “I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot.”

  Berk pulled the hot-top up to the curb in front of an old two-story building nestled between a hairdresser and dry goods store. The sign over the door read Occulta-Initia. The windows looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in ages, but through the dirt, one could see an assortment of oddities sitting alongside ancient-looking books.

  Berk climbed out of the vehicle first and stared up at the sign. He seemed a little nervous. “What kind of a place did you say this was?”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah answered. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “I thought you said you knew her.”

  “I do… well, sort of. She comes into the Bird every so often, but I’ve never had a reason to come here.”

  “What’s the problem?” Emily asked. She came around the hot-top clutching the box of death.

  “Nothing,” Berk said a little too quickly. “There’s no problem.”

  “Oh. You’re one of them.” Sarah laughed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Emily looked first at Berk, then at Sarah. “One of who?”

  “He’s a rhabdophobe,” Sarah said.

  “A what?”

  “A rhabdophobe. He’s afraid of magic.”

  “I am not,” Berk shouted.

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it. Some of my friends are rhabdophobic.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Berk said with a huff. He pushed open the shop door and stormed inside. Sarah laughed, and Emily shook her head and followed them.

  The interior lived up to the exterior’s mystique. The walls were lined with shelves stocked with even more oddities, along with jars filled with strange, gross-looking objects. There were whole sections dedicated to dust-covered books and a table filled with an assortment of old scrolls and torn parchments. Banners, covered with archaic symbols, hung from the rafters and the bleached skulls of various races were scattered throughout the shop.

  Berk looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Even Sarah was no longer laughing. Emily poked at what appeared to be the skull of an orc.

  “It’s fake,” she said. “It’s ceramic.”

  “Of course it is. I make them myself. I think it adds to the atmosphere. We don’t carry the real ones. The mistress frowns on necromancy.”

  They hadn’t seen the young woman watching them from behind the counter when they entered. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Small framed, not too tall. Her skin had a slight tint of yellow and her eyes were a vivid shade of purple; but what really set her apart were her horns. Close to her head, they curved back and around, circling her ears.

  Emily recognized the voice.

  “You’re Tilly, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes lit up and she smiled. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re that woman in the tavern, the one who requested my mistress’s help. Emily, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right. I guess she never found out anything about the poison.”

  “I am sorry about that.” Tilly frowned. “The mistress has been ill as of late. Her studies have weakened her. I’m afraid she loses interest in things so quickly.”

  “I understand. It was kind of a long shot anyway. I didn’t expect much from it.”

  The girl’s smile returned, and this time, she turned her attention to the other two.

  “You’re Sarah. You’re the one who usually waits on us at the Tavern. And you’re—” She pointed at Berk. “I’ve never seen you before.”

  Emily moved alongside him.

  “This is Berkeley,” she said. “But most people call him Berk. He works for the Red Wolves.”

  Tilly pouted. “Oh. He’s a Merc.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. No problem. It’s only that… the mistress isn’t very fond of Mercs.”

  “Why is that?”

  “They have often given us trouble, what with her being a—” She suddenly went silent as if she was reluctant to say anything more around Berk. Emily decided not to press the subject and instead held up the box of death.

  “We need Mira’s help again,” she said. “We need to know what’s inside this.”

  “I’m afraid the mistress isn’t feeling—”

  “Bring it in here.”

  The voice came from the back room. It even startled Tilly, who quickly went back to investigate. She came out a few minutes later.

  “Mistress Mira will see you now,” she said in a formal tone. “Please, this way.”

  They walked around the counter and followed the young woman into the back room where they found Mira, sitting in a tall-backed metal chair behind a desk littered with papers and open books. She looked up from her work but didn’t seem as interested in her visitors as she was in what they were carrying. It was the box of death that drew her attention.

  “She’s… she’s an elf,” Berk shouted.

  Mira gave him a cold stare. “Wonderful,” she said. “I see we have a scholar here. How very astute of you. Normally vir don’t bother to learn the other races.”

  “I’m not dealing with an elf.”

  “Very well then. You know the way out.” Mira pointed to the door and returned to her research.

  “Berk, please,” Emily whispered. “She may be the only one who can help us.”

  “You never said she was one of… them. They can’t be trusted.”

  “I told you. He’s a rhabdophobe,” Sarah said.

  “That has nothing to do with this. I know the stories.”

  “What stories?” Emily asked.

  “The Dusting. The elves were responsible.”

  Mira sighed and shook her head. “Oh please. The vir blame the fay. The fay blame the dwarfs. The dwarfs blame the uhyre. In the end, nobody knows the truth.”

  “I know,” Berk said.

  “Do you truly, vir? Were you there? Did you see it?”

  “Well… no. But I know the stories—”

  “And I can tell you thousands more. Every race, every religion, every region knows the truth, and yet none of them agree.”

  “We’re not here to debate the Dusting.” Emily held up the box of death. “We’re here because of this.”

  “And what is it you’ve brought me this time?” Mira asked. “Not more poison, I hope.”

  “We don’t know what it is. That’s why we need your help. This has already killed one dower, and may have been responsible for two more deaths.”

  The elf eyed the box greedily. “One, possibly three dwarfs—pity. Bring it here.”

  Emily wasn’t sure who Mira pitied. The box or the
dowers. She set it gently on the desk in front of the woman.

  “And who is paying for this?” Mira asked. “Is this part of your investigation?”

  “Well… no, not quite,” Emily answered “It’s actually Berk’s investigation. I’m helping out.”

  “I see.” Mira gently placed her long, slender fingers on the top of the box. “I think one hundred fyn should suffice.”

  “A hundred fyn?” Berk said, his voice rising.

  “I thought you dealt in favors,” Emily said.

  “I do. But not with Mercs. They are too… unreliable. And I expect it in advance.”

  With a huff, Berk reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy leather purse. He counted out one hundred fyn and handed it to Tilly. Mira waited until her companion recounted the currency. Only when she was sure she had been paid in full did she pull the box closer to her.

  “Now we begin,” she said with a mischievous grin. “You say this box has already killed one dwarf. How did it manage this feat?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” Emily replied. “I didn’t actually see it. All I remember was everything going dark for a moment, but I don’t know what happened.”

  “I saw it.” Sarah stepped forward. “Hardbrew opened the box and it gave off this light… but it wasn’t light it was dark. It was like a dark light. Everything it touched turned gray and then… dust. If Emily hadn’t closed it…”

  “I see.” Mira turned the box around a few times and tapped on each side “Dust you say. Interesting. You didn’t happen to bring me any of this dust?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Pity.”

  “Wait.” Reaching into her jacket pocket, Emily pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief. “We retrieved this from another victim. The same thing happened there but on a larger scale.” She set the cloth on the desk and gently unwrapped it. Inside was a handful of gray dust—all that remained of Flintmace’s left hand.

  “Is that one of my handkerchiefs?” Sarah asked.

  Mira carefully placed her finger on the corner of the handkerchief and pulled it toward her. She then ran the same finger through the fine dust and brushed it against her bottom lip. Berk made a choking sound, which earned him another cold look from the elf.

  “Dear, bring me the azure box.”

  Tilly disappeared into the next room as Mira pushed herself away from the desk. That’s when Emily noticed the elf’s chair had large wheels. Spinning the chair around, she rolled over to one of the cabinets and began loading her lap with an assortment of glass beakers. Emily thought about offering to help but decided against it. Elves were a notoriously proud people, and Mira was no exception. The first time she saw Mira in the Bird and Bay, the elf leaned heavily upon Tilly as they walked. She thought Mira was in pain at the time, but it never showed on her face. She remained stoic and in control, never showing weakness.

  Tilly returned, carrying a bright blue box, which she set on the desk. When she removed the lid, it revealed a row of glass vials, each containing some unknown liquid. Mira lined up the beakers, then placed a small pinch of Flintmace’s hand in each one. Skillfully, the elf carried out her experiment, pouring controlled amounts of the selected liquids into each beaker and studying the results.

  She seemed pleased by what she saw.

  “Yes, exactly what I thought. The hand is lifeless.”

  “Well, of course it’s lifeless,” Berk said. “It’s dust, isn’t it?”

  Mira sighed. “I would not expect you to understand, vir, what with your narrow-minded view of the world. Your idea of life is like a candle, either burning or extinguished where, in fact, life exists, even in death. All matter has life. An energy that holds it together. It is this life that fed the magic of the Deus eons ago. The elves called it the coi-níre, but some know it as vijnana, qi, or even mana.”

  “Fluxus vitae.”

  Mira looked at Emily and seemed surprised. “Yes, that is another name for it. Are you familiar with the study?”

  “Not exactly. It’s something that my father told me.”

  “Excuse me.” Sarah raised her hand. “You said mana. Is that the same mana that—”

  “Powers the city of New Doral?” Mira answered. “Some believe it is. The crystala that the goblins mine are believed to be the remnants of magic used ages ago. The energy was drawn from the earth back when the earth had the energy to spare. However, once the earth began to die after the Dusting, the expelled energy pooled into great tarns beneath the ground where it crystallized. It is this crystallized energy that is mined by the goblins.”

  “So the Church of Gaea is right,” Sarah said. “The mining is harming the earth.”

  “If that is what you want to believe.”

  “And you don’t?” Emily asked.

  The elf smiled. “Does it matter what I believe? Clearly your hired troll here blames my people for the Dusting. Would it matter if I said otherwise?”

  “It would to me.”

  Mira stopped mixing the beakers together and turned her attention to Emily. “Very well,” she said. “I do not believe the earth is dying, but I do believe it is dormant. I believe mana is the life force of the earth and that using it does not harm the earth and may even be the only thing keeping it alive. I do not know what caused the Dusting, but I do not believe it was the result of anything any of the races would have or could have done. My personal theory is, whatever caused the Dusting was not of this reality.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Berk asked.

  “I’m sorry.” Mira turned her attention back to the experiment. “I could explain it to you, but I cannot understand it for you, so clearly it would be a waste of time—for both of us.”

  After pouring the contents of the smaller beakers into a single large beaker, Mira added one last ingredient. The liquid turned a bright shade of blue. As she continued to stir, the color darkened until it turned completely black.

  “Amazing,” she whispered.

  “So, what’s in the box, elf?” Berk asked.

  Mira looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “I could open it now if you want, but we’d never be able to learn much, seeing as it would probably kill everyone in this room.”

  “Then how are we supposed to find out what’s inside?”

  “If you are so eager to know what’s inside, there is a simple solution.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Take it out back, and open it yourself. Once the contents kills you, and its taste for life is sated, it would be much easier to study.”

  “Mistress?” Tilly gasped

  “Yes, yes, I know, dear.” The elf sighed. “I will set up a stasis field. That should keep the effects of the contents contained long enough to get an idea of what we are dealing with.”

  Wheeling her chair to the far side of the room, Mira collected three glass orbs from one of the cupboards. Returning to her desk, she placed two of them on either side of the box and the third behind it, creating the three points of a triangle. She then touched each orb, whispering words that none of them understood. When she finished, the orbs began to glow.

  Mira slumped back in her chair. “That should hold it,” she said. Her voice sounded weak.

  “What do you mean should?” Berk asked.

  “My offer still stands if you wish to go out back.”

  Berk flinched when Emily touched his arm. Clearly, Mira’s use of magic, although simple, had unnerved him. “Please,” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. I don’t trust this mystic char.”

  “Why don’t you go outside and check on the hot-top.”

  Berk glared at Mira. At first, Emily thought he was going to protest, but now he looked relieved.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will,” he said.

  She waited until he left. “Sorry about that. He’s—”

  “Typical of his kind,” Mira answered. “Now, with him out of the room, shall we continue?”

  As Mira opened the box, the t
hree orbs grew brighter as the room got colder. Even the lights seemed to dim. It wasn’t as intense as what happened in the apartment when Hardbrew opened the box, but it was still noticeable. Whatever elfish magic she was using, it seemed to inhibit the box’s contents.

  Slowly Mira reached in and pulled out—a rock.

  It was rather anticlimactic. At first, Emily thought it was a joke, that someone managed to switch the boxes when she wasn’t looking—but there was something unusual about the rock. It was black, with no discernible detail and looked like a hole in space. It was almost as if the rock absorbed the light around it.

  “Yes. It’s what I thought.” Mira turned it over in her hands. “It’s a mana crystal.”

  “That doesn’t look like any mana crystal I’ve seen,” Sarah said.

  The elf smiled. “That’s because you’ve never seen one like this before.” She set the crystal back in the box and closed the lid. The orbs dimmed, the room grew warmer, and the lights got brighter. “Mana crystals contain concentrated energy, but not infinite amounts. They eventually run out and have to be replaced. That is why the goblins must keep mining them. The more we use them, the more demand we place on them, the faster we use them up. Eventually the crystals become inert. Useless stones to be discarded when they no longer have what we need. This stone, however, didn’t lose its energy naturally. It was siphoned off, creating a void, a vacuum that must be filled. When the box is open, and the crystal is exposed, it absorbs all energy around it, even the energy that binds matter together.”

  “But then how can the box contain it?” Emily asked. “If what you’re saying is true, the box would also be affected.”

  “Yes, that is true, if it was made from ordinary wood.” Mira tapped the top of the box. “This is what is known as dead wood. A wood prized by the Necromancers of Rasheera back in the days of the Deus. It was my first clue as to what was inside.”

  “Who could do something like this?”

  “That, I cannot tell you. Not since the last Deus did such skill exist. Whoever did this…?” The elf shook her head.

  “Then it’s another dead end.”

  “Not necessarily. Tilly, fetch the amulet of Osara”

  The young woman ran out of the room, and while they waited, Mira touched each of the orbs on the desk again. This time, when she whispered her strange words, they dimmed and reverted back to their boring glass selves. Picking them up, she wheeled them back to the cabinet and put them away.