A Gathering of Fools (Vensille Saga Book 1)

by James Evans

  For two hours he worked, gradually hardening everything he could reach until the door was as secure as he could make it. He stepped back to admire his work; it wouldn’t keep out a talented attack but any casual visitor would find it almost impossible to break down the door.

  Marrinek gathered his tools and walked through the corridor to the front door, where Elaine was talking to one of the bouncers.

  “Business as usual today, yes, but keep an eye out for the Watch. Our friend here,” she nodded at Marrinek as he laid out his tools on the floor, “seems to have a knack for acquiring enemies.”

  The bouncer, Trick, was a short, heavily muscled man with slicked-back hair. He was tidily dressed in short white shirt and black trousers and he nodded at Marrinek.

  “The Watch can be tricky, if you’re not careful. Best to keep them friendly, if you can.”

  Marrinek ran his hands over the door and frame.

  “Some good carpentry here but also some that is not so good. Look, here,” he pointed at a spot about a foot from the ground, “you can see where someone has patched up the frame and tied it back into the wall but they haven’t done a good job. When was the door last kicked in?” he looked at Trick, who shrugged and looked at Elaine.

  “About fifteen months ago. A couple of thugs from out of town tried to kick their way in after we turned them away. Shad broke noses and split lips and that was the end of it but they damaged the door.”

  “Leave me to work and I’ll fix it so that the door can’t be kicked in.” He studied the door again while Trick moved to sit on the chair at the bottom of the stairs. Elaine stood watching him for a few minutes as the tool moved over the frame and wall, then turned to leave.

  “I could do with something else to eat, if you’re passing the kitchen. Maybe send one of the maids out for a pie?” said Marrinek over his shoulder.

  Elaine looked at his back for a moment, then at Trick, who shrugged.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Don’t scare away the punters.”

  She stalked off toward the kitchen leaving Marrinek to work on the door while Trick sat, watching impassively from his chair.

  Marrinek focussed on the door, feeding power through the charm to harden the wood. He worked methodically, moving inward from the frame to the door and back again, hardening and strengthening the wood, the metal of the hinges and the surrounding wall. It took him another three hours to finish but, when he eventually sat back and put away his tools, the front door was as strong as the back door. He rolled his head from side to side to loosen the muscles of his neck and stretched his back.

  Trick, silent for the last three hours, rumbled into life.

  “Is that it?” he said, disappointed, “I was expecting something more impressive.”

  Marrinek snorted.

  “Fire and brimstone, maybe? Bright lights and bangs? Try digging it with your knife.”

  Trick stood up and walked over to the door, pulling a short dagger from the small of his back. He gingerly touched the plain wooden surface of the door with his hand, then raised an eyebrow at Marrinek, who nodded encouragement.

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  Trick brought the dagger down in a heavy over hand blow, ramming it’s point at the door. The door banged in its frame but the knife just skittered over the surface of the wood leaving behind a shallow scratch. Trick grunted in surprise and inspected his knife, checking the blade.

  “Hmm,” said Marrinek, “you’re stronger than you look.”

  He pulled out the largest charming tool and ran it again over the surface of the wood.

  “I’ll fix this - wouldn’t want to leave a scratch on Madame Duval’s door.”

  He focussed briefly and Trick’s eyes widened as the scratch disappeared back into the wood.

  “That’s neat,” said Trick, sheathing his knife, “what about the windows?”

  Marrinek looked around the hall. There were windows on either side of the door and more in the sitting rooms. The back rooms had windows as well, so there were maybe ten or more on the ground floor alone. Marrinek put away his tools and stood back.

  “It might take a few days to do the windows and I don’t have the time. I think we’ll pay someone else to work on the windows. In fact, I’ll talk to Madame Duval about that when she returns.”

  He patted his pockets then opened the door to look at it from the outside. He rapped his knuckle against the wood, listening to the sound it made. After a few minutes, he stepped back into the hallway and closed the door, satisfied that he had done all that could be done.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said to Trick as he walked down the hallway, “if anyone breaks down the door now, my advice would be to run away.”

  Trick nodded at Marrinek’s retreating back and sat down on his chair, alone again.

  Marrinek jogged up the stairs and dumped his tools on the bench. Madame Duval was still out with the twins but he didn’t want to wait any longer. He thought about looking for them but discarded the idea quickly; he could speak to them again this evening and it would do them good to spend time with other people.

  He stripped off his shirt and swapped it for a clean one - his last - then checked that his shock cannon was in his pocket. He emptied his bag onto the bench and cursed as gemstones and silver spread across the surface and coins trickled onto the floor.

  “I need a chest or a lockbox of some sort,” he muttered to himself as he collected the fallen coins.

  He stuffed a handful of silver and a couple of the smaller gems into his purse and slipped it into his pocket, then picked up the empty bag and slung it over his shoulder. The rest of the gems and the silver he wrapped in his dirty shirt, leaving the bundle on the floor under the bench. Then he grabbed Bone Dancer and went back downstairs, stopping by the front door to tie back his hair. Marrinek nodded at Trick - still sitting patiently on his chair - and stepped out of the house.

  The street was busy with people and traders, the normal mix of city dwellers and visitors, shopkeepers and craftsmen. Marrinek weaved through the crowds towards the charms shop, Bone Dancer tapping along at his side. The day was warm and the heat brought forth a strong and unpleasant smell from the city’s drains. As he walked, Marrinek daydreamed about his childhood in Esterengel and the long summers he had spent running on the streets, hiding from the Watch and living off whatever he could steal. He grimaced to himself and pulled himself back to the present; the past held only pain and suffering and death and loss.

  Eaves’ charm shop was empty when Marrinek arrived and he stood for a moment holding the door, just looking around. It struck him that, as on his last visit, the atmosphere inside the shop was noticeably cooler and more pleasant the outside. Marrinek closed the door behind him and looked curiously at the window, the door and the walls but there was no obvious mechanism for cooling the shop. He ran his fingers over the door and wall but the wood was perfectly normal, not even hardened. Confused, he stepped back, turning around just as the shop keeper came in from the back room.

  “Good afternoon, Mr Bay. How are you today?”

  “I’m very well, thank you Mr Eaves, but in need of assistance.” They discussed the general principles of building security and the hardening of windows and Mr Eaves opined that there were people within the Guild who might provide the services Marrinek sought, although he himself did not execute that type of work. They agreed that Mr Eaves would find someone discreet and arrange for them to call at the House of Duval at the earliest opportunity.

  Marrinek pulled out his purse and removed two of the smaller gem stones that he had acquired from Fangfoss. He laid them on the table and prodded them towards Mr Eaves.

  “I have a number of stones like this. I can’t use them in my work and I wondered if you might be able to make use of them?”

  Mr Eaves examined the stones, at one point producing a magnifying glass from under the counter to aid his inspection. Eventually, he put them back down on the counter.

  “Yes, Mr B
ay, I believe I can use these. And what might I offer in return?”

  Marrinek leant Bone Dancer against the counter.

  “Firstly, silence. Discuss my business with nobody and if anyone asks about me tell them that you know nothing about me.”

  Eaves looked surprised.

  “But I don’t know anything about you,” he protested, “except that you have twin apprentices and a ready supply of gem stones. What else might I tell ‘them’ and who might ask questions about you anyway?”

  “Maybe nobody. If someone does come and they threaten you, tell them they can find me at the House of Duval.”

  “Very well, as you wish, the House of Duval if threatened,” said Eaves, clearly unsure what to make of these instructions.

  “Good. Secondly, I need a tutor for my apprentices. They’re quick and smart but I don’t have the time to spend with them. Can you recommend someone?”

  “The Guild can certainly provide tutors but they would obviously insist on membership,” he paused to look at Marrinek, judging, “and I imagine you might prefer to avoid that?”

  Marrinek nodded.

  “In that case, your options are limited but I might be able to find a few hours to give them general pointers and to show them the rudiments of charm-making, if that would be of interest?”

  “Rudimentary charm-making would be perfect. I shall want to see results, mind.”

  Mr Eaves nodded, as if taking on illegal tutoring of twin apprentices was something he did every day and, obviously, their Master would want them to receive only the best training.

  “Thirdly, I need more supplies. Two sets of charming tools for the twins, supplies for them to practice with and whatever other books you might have that would be appropriate for fast-learners.”

  Mr Eaves produced a notebook from under the counter and began to make a list.

  “Sorry, Mr Bay, but I find that if I don’t write things down I tend to forget almost everything.”

  He noted down Marrinek’s requests so far.

  “I have copies of Jensen’s second and third volumes, which should be enough to keep them occupied for the next few years, but beyond that I am only occasionally able to acquire the more advanced treatises. Practitioners, in Vensille at least, tend to collect books rather than circulate them so old copies are seldom available and new books rarely reach this part of the world; most of the knowledge of power is passed from master to apprentice or from peer to peer, although in Vensille new discoveries are seldom shared.”

  “I’ll take volumes two and three of Jensen, then, and anything you might have that covers the history of Vensille.”

  Eaves ducked into the backroom for a few minutes before returning with four books.

  “Jensen volumes two and three, a short history of Vensille written maybe three years ago and this, which I thought might appeal to you. It describes a local martial art, Long Stick, that was briefly fashionable amongst the nobility in Vensille maybe eighty years ago. Given your apparent weapon of choice,” he nodded at Bone Dancer, “you might find it interesting.”

  Marrinek took all four books, flipping open the slim Long Stick volume. He flicked through a few pages then looked up.

  “Thank you, yes, I’ll take all four,” he said as he slipped the books into his bag, “and finally, for now, you could tell me about the temperature in here. How do you keep it so cool?”

  Eaves smiled.

  “You are not the first to ask, sir. It’s a mechanism of my own devising, powered by a net of copper wires and a large block of lead, which absorbs heat. It sits upstairs and the air it cools falls down a shaft in the wall and out through those vents near the ceiling.”

  He pointed to a set of wooden slats over a hole in the wall, high up behind the counter.

  “It works well enough but it’s not quite ready for sale. When it is perfected, I mean to sell it to the rich, become rich myself and retire from shop-keeping. Until then…”

  Marrinek nodded.

  “I understand - you’d rather not share your secrets. Very sensible. I may need a few of those mechanisms in my house - I find your summers a little too warm for my liking - so if you want somewhere else to test them, let me know.”

  “Thank you sir, I will bear that in mind, although summer hasn’t really arrived yet. It’ll get a fair sight warmer yet, I think. Now, let me find you those charming tools.”

  Eaves stepped into the back room again while Marrinek peered around the shop. Now that he knew there was a mechanism delivering cold air he could feel the gentle flow as it fell from the vent. Clever.

  Eaves returned, placing two sets of charm tools on the counter along with an assortment of basic supplies, which he packed into a sack.

  “Two sets of tools, a selection of iron rods of varying diameters, several lengths of copper wire, a variety of short kiln-dried ash and oak staves, a few blocks of beech, two pairs of heavy leather gloves.”

  He stopped, thinking.

  “That should be enough for teaching the rudiments. Is there anything else you need, sir?”

  “There is one more thing. I have a knack for making enemies and I feel a need to enhance my personal protection. Do you have any charms of a martial nature?”

  Eaves shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

  “You must understand, sir, that such things are closely regulated in Vensille. Only the Guild is allowed to sell such things but, sometimes, for special clients, there are opportunities to acquire a limited range of items. What, specifically, did you have in mind?”

  “I’m looking for discreet items of powered armour. Arm shields would be best but if supply is limited I’ll take anything that might be available.”

  “Ah, that is a little different. Weapons are very difficult but shields are rather easier. I carry no real stock in this area - there is almost no call for it amongst my customers - but I do have an arm bracer, if that would be of interest? It is small, designed to be worn under the sleeve of a fashionable shirt, but with sufficient power it should provide significant protection.”

  Eaves opened a small cupboard door under the counter and after moving aside a crate of oak staves he produced a leather bag about six inches long and laid it on the counter. Marrinek picked it up and loosened the drawstring, upending the bag so that the short leather and iron bracer dropped into his hand. He turned it over, examining the workmanship, and flexed it between his fingers to test its rigidity. Satisfied, he rolled up his left sleeve and laced the bracer to the outside of his arm then focussed a little power into it. Immediately a translucent disc about fifteen inches in diameter appeared in front of his arm, exactly where a traditional shield would sit. Marrinek twisted his arm and experimented with the amount of power flowing into the bracer until he was happy that everything was working as expected. He rolled down his sleeve.

  “Perfect. I’ll take it. And keep your eyes open for other pieces. I will probably take any quality pieces you can find.”

  “Certainly, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  Marrinek hefted the sack then stuffed it into his pack on top of the books.

  “No, I think that’s everything for now.”

  He nodded at the gem stones.

  “I’ll trust you to track how much I’m spending; let me know when I reach the value of those stones.”

  He opened the door and slipped the bag onto his shoulder.

  “I’ll send the twins for their first session this evening. A note to the House of Duval will reach me, if you have need.”

  And Marrinek stepped out of the shop, closing the door behind him as he went.

  Back at the House of Duval, Marrinek found the eponymous Madame in her study. She turned around as he came in but finished stowing her coins in a small chest before joining him on the settee. She handed him a parcel tied up in string.

  “Fresh clothes. The trousers should fit better than those you’re wearing and the shirts are clean and pressed. The tailor is coming tomorrow morning to measure you
for coats, more shirts, trousers and so on, so by the end of the week you should have a halfway decent wardrobe.”

  “Excellent, thank you,” said Marrinek, weighing the parcel then setting it beside him, “how were the twins?”

  Madame Duval wrinkled her nose and waggled her head a little in frustration.

  “I don’t think they trust me. Hardly surprising, given the way we were introduced, but maybe things will improve. They behaved themselves, though, and they both now have much of what they need to pass as polite members of society. They’ve been measured so the rest of their clothes will be here later in the week.”

  Marrinek nodded.

  “Good. Any other problems?” he asked as Madame Duval frowned.

  “No,” she said, “were you expecting something?”

  “Not really.” He paused, as if unsure about what he was about to say. Madame Duval looked at him expectantly as the moment dragged on.

  “I have a plan for dealing with the Flank Siders, for getting you out from under their thumb,” he said finally, “and there’s a part for you, if you want it.”

  “If I want it? You mean I have a choice?”

  “Of course,” said Marrinek, surprised, “but it’ll be more difficult if you say no, more risky.”

  She looked at him, face full of doubt, inviting him to say more.

  “If it works, you’ll be free and there will be a bonus, a big one.”

  “And if it doesn’t work? What if it goes wrong?”

  Marrinek looked away, briefly, as if hiding from an inconvenient question.

  “If it goes wrong, we’ll probably both be dead before morning,” he said quietly, “but I don’t expect it to come to that.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “So you’re not actually planning to get us killed, then. Is that supposed to inspire confidence?”

  Marrinek sighed and shook his head.

  “It’s dangerous. I have to get close to Artas and the longer we leave it the more difficult it will become because they’ll work out how I’m linked to Fangfoss and then I’ll have to cut my way in. Very bloody, very dangerous, very difficult. We have one chance to keep things clean and easy.” He paused to let her think about this. “Are you in?”