“I guess.”
“There we go!” said Donna. I looked over to see a camera drone following Cass like a hovering dog as she moved slowly around the room. It rotated as she paced back and forth, keeping her in frame, and it held a fairly steady distance when she tried to move too close or too far away.
Satisfied, Cass rejoined us as Donna set to work on my drone. She put a hand on my shoulder and the other on Noah’s.
“Okay, Hearthammer.” She was starting to look like herself again. “We’re here. Now, where the hell are we gonna spend the night? Noah, what do you think?”
“Well,” Noah said, “there are two parts of town we could afford right now. Bad Luck Alley and Home Street.”
“One of those sounds a lot more appealing than the other,” said Cass, and I had to agree. “What’s the catch?”
“Price,” said Noah. “Bad Luck Alley is called that because it’s where adventurers end up when things go badly for them. So it’s cheap. But the rooms you can get there aren’t too nice, I think. I’ve never seen inside it.”
“And Home Street is nicer…”
“But more expensive.” Noah nodded. “It’s pretty normal for new players to go there, though. They call it Noob Street.”
“Okay, let’s be noobs,” Cass said. “We’ve got a little spending money, so let’s spend it. We’re gonna be swimming in coin soon enough anyway.”
“Wait,” I said.
“What?” said Cass.
“Shouldn’t we be saving our money? I mean, we need to save up for… you know.” I glanced around, but other than Magpie standing behind me, nobody seemed to care about our conversation. “For your dad.”
“Emma—” Cass began.
“Linnaea,” said Noah.
“Fine, Linnaea. We’ve been through so much to get here. Why can’t you just relax for a few nights while we get the lay of the land?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just don’t feel great about spending money on luxuries.”
“Sepharad, what do you think?” said Cass. “Tie-breaker vote.” Noah looked at the floor. He licked his lips as he pondered. Nobody was better than Noah at self-discipline, but if he had to make a decision he tended to shut down.
“I think Linnaea is right,” said Magpie.
“Nobody asked you!” Cass snapped. She straightened to her full height, which put her a few inches over Magpie’s head. “In case you forgot, you’re not part of Hearthammer. We shared a limo ride. That doesn’t make us pals.”
“Cass, wait,” I said. “Jessamine, I mean. Sorry. Okay, listen. I know Magpie’s not one of us. But he saved my life when we came through the portal.”
“I thought St George saved you,” said Noah.
“Before that,” I said. “Magpie wouldn’t have been in trouble if he hadn’t gotten that thing off me first.” Cass crossed her arms and looked down her nose at me. I knew that look. She knew I was right; she just didn’t want to admit it. I soldiered on. “He’s been nothing but chill since we met him. I’m not saying we make him a part of the Hammer, I’m just saying… we don’t have any other friends here. I’m not about to kick out the one we’ve got.”
“Fine,” said Cass. “We’ll take in the stray. You have any useful skills, Magpie?”
Magpie smiled. Being talked about openly didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Yes,” he said, “as a matter of fact I do.” He held up his coin pouch. Then he held up another one, and a third.
Cass’s eyes went wide as she slapped at her belt. Noah looked down at his. My pouch was still in place, looped to my belt by its leather thong, but Magpie had taken the others’.
“Give that back!” said Cass, and Magpie tossed it to her. The smile hadn’t left his face. He handed Noah his pouch and folded his tattooed arms across his chest.
“I’m also good with locks,” he said.
“Magpie,” I said, “what exactly did you do for a living in the Hellenic Austerity Zone?”
“If you’re staying with us, I expect you to contribute,” said Cass before he could respond. “Since we’re letting in a fourth, we can afford Home Street. And you’re gonna work, too. When we go out of town, you come with us. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Magpie.
“Good.” Cass nodded, looking as satisfied as if it had been her idea all along for Magpie to join us. “Linnaea, what time is it?”
“By the sun, it was about three in the afternoon when we arrived,” I said. Timekeeping in the Summerlands was a fascinating subject, one that I hoped to explore more now that we were here. “So maybe four thirty?”
“Perfect,” said Cass. “Sepharad, where can we get food?”
“Meat Street,” said Noah. “Most of the restaurants are there.”
“Great name,” I said, but Cass ignored me.
“Here’s the plan. Split up for the rest of the afternoon. At seven we meet on Meat Street to get some food.”
“Split up?” Magpie asked. “Can’t we eat now? I’m starving.”
“Nope,” said Cass. “One more thing we need to do before we settle in. The four of us need to join our guilds.”
The Red Wizard
I crossed Portal Square, my camera drone buzzing happily behind me, its solar panels drinking in the light that still made me squint and rub my eyes. The Red Wizards’ Guild Hall occupied one corner of the square, in a multi-storied building of deep red hardwood and black iron decoration. It sat like a rich shadow against the whites and pastels of its neighbors.
Active drones weren’t allowed in any of the guild halls, so the interior was a mystery to me, but I knew the face of the building well. The door itself was of blood oak, a tree known for its anti-magical properties. It had been harvested from a nearby forest by Dr Agony himself. The exposed beams were red heartwood, beautiful but mundane. The iron was said to ward off supernatural forces, though none of the sources I’d read could agree on whether that was true in the Summerlands or just a superstition carried over from our world.
I caught myself holding my breath as I grasped the wrought-iron door handle. Assuming I was inducted into the guild, this place would be like a second home to me. The wizards here had unlocked mysteries of Summerlands magic that those of us educated only from books and blogs could scarcely imagine. If I paid my dues, literally and figuratively, that knowledge would be mine.
The door was heavy but silent as I pulled it open. My first impression was one of wealth. The thick carpet that quieted my footfalls was woven with arcane symbols intertwined with old-fashioned arabesques. Deep leather reading chairs sat here and there, each in its own pool of light from an individual red-shaded reading lamp atop a small wooden side table. A fire crackled in a large stone hearth, but it was no warmer in here than outside. The rich smell of woodsmoke and leather filled my nose.
A bar ran along the right side of the room, seemingly made from a single massive slab of crystal that glowed with a warm red light deep within. A few stools with leather seats and brass legs made a neat row beneath it.
The room was empty. I took a few more steps in and the door shut behind me, turning the room’s many shadows to black. My mouth was dry and I licked my lips uselessly.
“You must be Linnaea.” I jumped at the voice behind me, and turned to see a man standing between me and the door. He stood about my height in a simple red tunic and breeches. His hair was lank and brown, his beard scraggly, and he smelled a bit of sweat. Only his eyes stood out: one was blue, the other green. That detail jogged something in my memory; I’d seen him on the feeds, but as I racked my brain I couldn’t come up with his name.
“I am Belphegor,” he said, “lead tutor of the Red Wizards’ Guild. It is also my duty to administer tests for admission and ranking. I imagine that is what has brought you here today?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, exactly. We just crossed over. I’m Linnaea. I’ve been practicing in the real world and I’d like to join the guild.”
“My dear,” said Belphegor with
a flourish that took in the room around us, “this is the real world.”
I blinked. The empty leather chairs were now full of men and women who sat reading, practicing magical passes, or talking quietly. A middle-aged woman with long blonde hair in two Viking braids stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass and chatting with a pair of patrons on the stools. As I gaped, I realized that I recognized some of them, well-known red wizards whose feeds I’d studied, hoping to pick up a trick or two.
“How—how did you—” I stammered to a stop. I’d seen monsters and swords already this afternoon, but this was my first taste of true magic.
“A simple charm, really,” said Belphegor. “Not the true invisibility that the white magicians can create, but close enough.” He held up a small, clouded diamond between two fingers of the hand that had made the flourish a moment ago. He rubbed the fingers together and the diamond disappeared. “We have many such secret arts. Perhaps you’ll learn them someday.”
“That would be a dream come true,” I said, hoping that the sincerity in my chest would overflow my heart and spill into my voice. This was what I had come to the Summerlands for. There were mysteries here, buried only inches beneath the fertile earth, just waiting for me to dig them up.
“Come,” said Belphegor.
***
The Room of Trials was a large, windowless chamber at the heart of the Red Wizards’ Guild Hall. The floorboards were wide, straight boards of blood oak. The walls were white plaster, hung with wooden plaques, on which the names and ranks of every guild member were painted in gold leaf. In the center of the floor sat a copper coin, a sword, and a small iron bell. Belphegor knelt on one side of these magical implements and I sat on the other, facing him.
“Do some magic for me,” he said.
I looked at the items in front of me, trying to remember the spells I knew. Or thought I knew: there was no telling if the years of practice I’d put in would actually mean anything here in the Summerlands. I’d been memorizing nonsense words and performing random acts of sleight of hand for so long without ever seeing a result.
The bell reminded me of the day not so long ago when I’d first earned my ticket fee, sitting inside the merch machine at the Expedition store. That life was quite literally a world away now. I wondered how Keats was feeling, what he was doing. Had he found our drone feeds? Was he watching Cass walk across a courtyard or duck down an alleyway even now? Was he happy for us? I picked up the bell.
“Do you have a candle?” I asked. Belphegor watched me, unblinking, but said nothing. Okay, he was obviously going to be no help. He must be putting pressure on me, testing how I could perform under stress. It made sense when you remembered that you’d eventually be expected to cast spells while monsters were trying to eat you and your friends.
I thought for a moment, then pulled the lacing from the front of my shirt. The neckline fell open into a shallow vee that exposed a little more of my chest than I would have liked, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. Plus, I could retie the lacing pretty quickly once we were done.
I formed the lacing into a coil on the ground in front of me, then took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I never believed in anything supernatural or religious in the real world—I considered myself a scientist, devoted only to the empirical method—but it was hard to deny the sense of destiny that settled on me as I prepared to cast my first spell. So many years of hard work had led me here. So much pain and suffering.
Promising myself that I would come back to these feelings—promising never to forget everything I’d lost along the way—I put them out of my mind. I lifted the bell in my right hand, testing its weight. It was heavier than the bell I’d always practiced with, which was just thin sheet metal pressed into shape. This was real iron, probably forged by a local blacksmith. I gave it an experimental ring, and its sound was full and deep compared to the flat clinking I was used to.
My eyes locked with Belphegor’s. For a moment it seemed as though his blue eye watched my face while his green eye watched my hand. I refused to look away, though.
I began to sweep the bell gently in a figure-eight pattern as I intoned a few quiet words in the language we called Elvish. At the apex of each turn, I flicked my wrist a bit to let the clapper of the bell strike its inner wall and as I drew the bell back in I silenced it with a quick finger. Soon, I had a feel for the motion, and I began to exaggerate my movements. Swirl and snap, swirl and snap, with an even rhythm that produced a steady cadence of sound and silence.
I spoke the Elvish words louder and more confidently, interweaving them with the ringing of the bell. The anxiety in my stomach had been replaced with something else, something warmer. It began as an unsteady feeling in my gut, but soon it burned up and out along my arms. I realized I was sweating when a few salty drops touched my tongue, which I had clenched between my teeth in concentration. The burning sensation reached my hands and flew along my fingers.
“Ow! Shit!” I dropped the bell, which landed with a dull clank. I stood and stumbled backwards from the bell, shaking my hands as though I could wave away the imaginary fires that had scorched them. Carelessly, I hooked one foot behind the other ankle and tripped myself. I landed painfully on my ass on the hardwood.
Belphegor began to laugh. His face grew red and his body shook as he cackled, his head thrown back. The wizard went on for a solid minute before regaining control of himself. Finally he stood, clapping.
“Burnt your fingers, did you?” He reached out a hand to me and I pulled myself up.
“I had no idea it would feel like that,” I said. I made a show of brushing myself off, but the Room of Trials was immaculately clean. Really, my pride was hurt more than my butt.
“You still have no idea,” said Belphegor. “But. I must admit that you’ve obviously practiced, much more than most who come here hoping to learn magic. Pay your dues, listen to your superiors, and you’ll get along fine, I think. Welcome to the Red Wizards. First week is free, one silver per week after that.”
“That’s it?” My heart leapt in my chest. “I’m in?”
In reply, he stepped to the side and gestured at the floor behind him, where a spiral of ash sat smoking.
***
“I like what you’ve done to your shirt,” said Cass. “Should bring in the twelve-to-twenty-nine crowd.”
I tugged the neck of my shirt closed as we rounded a corner onto Meat Street. We’d smelled food for the last five minutes as we made our way down narrow alleys between boarding houses and small apartment complexes. The scent was hard to describe. It had depths. On top was a mouth-watering mixture of every meat I’d ever eaten, though lacking the usual tang of chemicals and salt, and much more I couldn’t identify. Underneath was something solid and real.
The complexity in my nose was nothing compared what met my eyes as Meat Street opened before us. It was packed as densely as our old apartment block, but instead of exhausted workers and snoring squatters, the street teemed with adventurers. Signs, flags, and awnings competed to draw the eye with the brightest possible colors. Many of the shops had tables and chairs set outside, most of them full with patrons enjoying the ever-present sunshine.
I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me as I contemplated finding our friends in this mess, but then Cass yelled “Hey!” and I saw Noah waving to us from a stall near our end of the street. Magpie was handing over a few coins in return for a row of meat cubes on a skewer. He took a bite and rolled his eyes in mock ecstasy as we approached.
“Try this.” Magpie waved the meat skewer in my face. The meat looked like chicken, but with flaky layers that showed it was real rather than from an extruder. Brown marinade dotted with seeds dripped enticingly from the cubes and ran down Magpie’s hand. I leaned in and bit one of the cubes off the skewer.
It was chicken, but more so. It delivered on every promise made by the smells of Meat Street. I closed my eyes as I chewed. The sun was lowering in the sky and in the long shadow of a nearby awning the te
mperature was perfect. For a moment, I wondered if Magpie had been more accurate than he intended when he called the Summerlands heaven. Others had made the suggestion sincerely and I understood why.
“I’m hungry,” said Noah. We set off down Meat Street, reading out loud from menus as we passed.
“Steak! Real steak!”
“Dosa, what’s that?”
“Look, tacos—wait, we had tacos at home.”
“Spanakopita, gyros… Magpie, isn’t that Greek?”
“Sweet and sour pork pizza? Do you think it’s good?”
“Somebody pick something—”
“Another steak place—”
“Okay, here!” Cass stopped in front of a narrow storefront. A wooden sign above the door clattered in the evening breeze, showing a sort of witch’s cauldron with painted steam rising from it. The words Open Seasoning were painted below the cauldron. “I’m hungry, we’ll have plenty of time to try everything else, and this smells good.”
Nobody could argue with that. A scent liked salted steam led us through the door. A single row of tables and chairs lined one wall of the cozy restaurant. A knot of adventurers crowded around the counter at the far end and I took a few steps in that direction before stopping dead. Noah bumped into my back.
“That’s Golden Apple,” I said.
“Holy shit,” Noah agreed.
They seemed to be having an argument with the owner of the restaurant. She was a square young woman in a dirty apron. She had dusky skin, thick black eyebrows, and bright pink hair. Cass shoved me and I stumbled farther into the room.
“I don’t care if you’re an elf come back from the dead, you still have to pay!” the owner said.
“Being seen eating here is payment enough,” boomed Rad, the huge warrior of the party. “You’ll be trending tomorrow.” None of their drones seemed to be visible.
“I gotta pay for that meat, you know,” said the owner. “That shit ain’t free.”
“It is if you go kill it yourself,” said Wolfheart.
Expedition- Summerlands Page 9
