by J. B. Garner
Frowning under the attention, I managed to avoid muttering unkind words under my breath. Instead, I let out a rather flat and embarrassed, “Hello."
Bunny didn’t join in on the fun or let out one of her tittering laughs. Instead, she slapped her palm on the counter. “Come on now, Siofra, don’t do that.” It was Siofra’s turn to look vaguely embarrassed, blushing a hair on the cheeks as she straightened up. “Lady Stone is an orphan just discovered.”
As if those words were an instant trigger, that embarrassment multiplied as the Elf clapped a hand over her mouth and let out a tiny gasp. “Oh, dearest ones, how terrible for you!” She bobbed her head towards me, clasping her hands over her heart in a gesture that felt like it should be familiar to me. “You have my deepest sympathies, Lady Stone.”
Though I really did appreciate the sentiment, it wasn’t doing my tired heart any favors in feeling more comfortable. I bobbed my head a few times uncomfortably in response. “It is quite all right. And please, you can simply call me Mary.”
Siofra smiled and snatched up a pen from the desktop. “Very well, Mary. Master Sinclair has arranged a very nice room for you.” She scribbled on an open log book laid out there. “He wanted you to know that you have use of the room for a full week, regardless of your future negotiations.” Spinning the book towards me, she set the pen on top of the book with a giggle. “Whatever that means exactly. It is certainly none of my business.”
Bunny had dug out her wallet and was flipping through it as I walked up the steps. They were a nice little touch and I appreciated them more than I thought I would. The log book was as mundane as could be if you didn’t look at the name listed there or the column labeled ‘Figment Type’. Oh, there were a few normal-sounding names among them, but most were straight out of the sci-fi/fantasy section of the local bookstore.
“Thanks,” I muttered again, starting to perk up a bit to the situation. Sure, I felt like a lumpy troll right then but Siofra seemed nice enough and how could I get mad at what Sinclair was giving out. I signed my name, my fingers automatically writing the Truespeech word for Dwarf in the appropriate space. I was the only one to have done so on the page.
All the same, generous or not, a little voice inside my head reminded me that it was very likely my every move would be watched like a hawk while I was here. This wasn’t a vacation; this was a very serious situation.
“Well, Mary,” Bunny said, producing a business card from her wallet, “this is where we part ways.” As I turned on the top of the steps, she held the card out to me. “My card. Hopefully, you never feel a need to call me.”
I took the card and nodded slowly. I looked the crisp, white card over before looking up at her with a smile, something that was on her lips as well. “Yes, I do hope to stay safe and I especially hope you’re not the one on the trail if I do get into trouble. I wouldn’t have much chance, would I?”
“Not a chance in all the layers of Hell.” Abruptly, she clapped me once on the shoulder and turned on her heels. “Good fortune, Mary Stone.”
I stroked my beard as I tucked the card into my pocket. “Take care, Bunny, and good hunting.”
She turned her head at the edge of the lobby, shot me a smirk, and then disappeared down the hallway.
I stood there for a moment as the full depth of my situation sunk in. I was now truly alone, with no one I could trust anywhere nearby, at least no one that was free. Frankly, I almost screamed then and there, a scream that would have been born out of frustration and anxiety.
I didn’t, though. As much as I wanted to break, I couldn’t let myself do that, not yet. Above and beyond anything else, I had a promise to keep. Even if Mr. Sinclair’s requests were completely sane and innocuous, all I had to do was keep Aelfie safe to keep my promise.
I could do that, right? Yeah, all I had to do was get my bearings in this strange new world, figure out this whole rune magic thing before Sinclair pressed too hard, and divine the motivations and intentions of a wealthy, powerful businessman/dragon-man/government agent.
Yeah, I was going to scream and I would have this time if Siofra hadn’t interrupted my fevered thoughts by clearing her throat. “Mary, I have your door key ready.” I turned and forced myself to smile in an effort to match her own radiant one. “You will be staying in suite fifty-two, at the end of the hall there.” She pointed with one of those long, perfect fingers down a hall leaving the lobby. “It is a corner room; you certainly cannot miss it.”
I nodded slowly as I took the keycard from her. “Thank you very much, Siofra.”
As I stepped back down to the floor, the Elf bobbed her head in an energetic bow. “My honor, dear Dwarf. If there is anything you require, please let me or any other attendant know.”
There were a million things I could think of off the top of my head that I needed but I didn’t bother to ask. The thing I needed the most she couldn’t give me.
With an absent wave that wasn’t nearly as polite as the poor lady deserved, I trudged off down the hall, wondering what exactly I was going to find waiting for me in my ‘suite’.
Chapter 12
FOR PERHAPS THE first time all night, something turned out to be exactly what it was supposed to be. The promised suite was exactly that: the equivalent of a very nice hotel room. It outclassed most, if not all, of the accommodations I had when I had been in the carnival and it a good bit better than my apartment at the Arms, especially in its current state of ‘partially exploded’. The sight of a fluffy bed, a working shower, and a dresser full of clean clothes made my heart sing.
And there was the thing that had to spark my paranoia once more. Did Sinclair just happen to keep a suite ready with a full set of clothes for a Dwarf? Maybe. In my sizes? A whole lot less likely. Maybe it was more magic or maybe something else. Either way, I didn’t like it but I didn’t like being covered in dirt, sweat, and filth more, something I didn’t fully realize until the prospect of being clean presented itself.
I was practically sleep-walking by the time I had let the hot, pounding water do its work. Again, there had been some considerations made for someone of my particular height, such as the adjustable, mounted shower stool. As to other considerations, the bathroom was properly stocked as well, even down to a selection of combs and brushes both for the head and the face. Take it from me, nothing is more likely to make you cross than a tangled beard!
After that, looking back at the twisted web of warnings, good deeds, and creepy circumstances, I resolved to sleep on it. My exhausted brain was too tossed up and too cloudy to parse things out so that was that. I had enough presence of mind to pull on a rather shapeless, unisex set of pajamas and throw my grungy clothes into what I hoped was a clothes hamper. The only delay as I drug my feet to the bed was the glowing screen of my cheapo cell phone. Oh, how I dreaded looking at the stack of messages that no doubt waited there but they were my responsibility to look at all the same.
The bright side was that there were less there than I had imagined. There were three from the Easy-E-Mart’s owner and a few from an unfamiliar number. The boss’s messages were simple enough, the first two being passive-aggressive digs both questioning me as to what happened while seeming to blame me at the same time while the last one was that a Mr. Sinclair had contacted him and that everything was fine. The worrying bit there was the addendum that I should ‘take as much time as I needed’ before returning to work.
The unfamiliar number identified itself as being from Officer Kent Howard himself. Well, at least he had made it out alive and with his brain functioning. I was being asked to please come by the local precinct or call him as soon as possible. The messages repeated themselves word-for-word and each one made me both angrier and more anxious. What in the blue blazes was I going to tell him? Did Aelfie’s charm just rewind the cop’s memories a little or did he mess up his mind or …?
I pulled on my beard until it hurt. It was the only way to stop the runaway train that my brain was running down. Worry in the morning,
I told myself, sleep for now.
That’s precisely what I did, burrowing into the thick comforter after turning out the lights.
Sleep came easy, way easier than I expected with so many things weighing down on my mind. I was too exhausted to care at the end of it all. It was a deep sleep full of snippets of dreams and nightmares with the only things left burned into my brain were more designs, more runes of unknown meaning and power.
In the condition I was in, I might very well have slept straight through the day if it hadn’t been for a soft but incessant knocking at my door. I knew for sure it was still daytime when I threw off the covers and sat up in the mother of all bad moods, something not helped at all by the midday sun piercing the sorry excuse for blinds the room’s singular window had.
“Argh! Stop!” I growled (in Truespeech to my surprise). “Stop banging your hammer on the anvil already!”
The knocking, far quieter than it was in my head, ceased, followed by the melodic tones of Siofra’s voice. “I humbly apologize, Lady Stone, but Master Sinclair wanted me to check on you as my shift ended.” It was a bit comforting to know that even Elves worked the same shifts the rest of the world did. “I have a nice, hot meal for you as well as a sealed missive. Shall I leave them by the door or …?”
Siofra didn’t deserve my waking wrath. Taking a deep breath, I rolled out of bed, rubbing my cheeks and straightening my beard. “No, it’s you who deserve my apologies.” I glanced down at the white shirt and bottoms, just to make sure I was as decent as I thought I should be. “One moment and I’ll open the door.”
Yes, of course, I locked the door when I slept. Not that it would have mattered a lick if Sinclair or his goons had gone for some funny business but it still made me feel a little safer. Clicking open the lock, I opened the door wide.
For having done a full day’s shift, the Elven woman looked as fabulous and fresh as a pristine mountain flower. I didn’t even want to think of how I bad looked in comparison. She was standing politely next to an ordinary-looking cart with a covered dish and an insulated coffee urn on top. An envelope was tucked under the urn, a red wax seal keeping it closed.
“Ah, good morning,” she chirped, bobbing her head in a brief bow. “I picked out a particularly hearty meal for you which I think you will appreciate. I do hope I did not choose poorly!”
I stepped back to let her push the cart in, trying to put on a smile of some kind for her benefit. “I’m certain it will be perfect, Siofra. Thank you for your concern.” It smelled delicious and it made me realize how ravenous I was.
She smiled flawlessly as she stepped back out the door. “My pleasure! I simply wish everyone in my care to be happy and healthy. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”
“No, no, I am well, thank you.” She turned to go when a spark ignited in my foggy brain cells. “Oh, there is something else!”
Siofra spun back to face me with effortless grace. “Of course, anything.”
“Paper and something to write with, if you please.”
It was only half-past noon; I’d only been granted five or six hours of sleep. Worse yet, I was way off my usual night shift sleep cycle. Thankfully, the coffee Siofra had provided was a rich roast that, alongside the strangely sweet biscuits (a recipe that felt familiar and alien at the same time) and a heaping pile of bacon, cut through the haze. Putting the note as well as the spiral-bound notebook and pencil the Elf had provided to one side, I polished off the last of the large meal with delicate bites.
You must be careful eating when you have a beard that a mountain man would be proud of. The last thing you want is to collect enough crumbs to make you smell like stale food all day long.
By the time I was done, there was still a faint throb behind my eyes, but I was alert and clear-headed. Turning my attention to Sinclair’s note, I popped the seal open with my thumb and almost dropped the note then and there as a brief ember of red light spat out of the broken wax. It was gone as fast as it came, leaving me alone with a choice curse or two.
After a quick pat-down to make sure the spark hadn’t carried into my hair or my beard, I opened the note up. It was written on crisp, sturdy paper with a Sinclair Computing Industries letterhead printed at the top. The words themselves were handwritten in a precise, flowing script that, while nice and clean, was a bit too fancy for my tastes. It was also written in English to my slight surprise. It read:
Dear Ms. Stone,
Please take a few hours to reorient yourself and make yourself presentable but I would impress upon you that we must speak more and urgently. Our mutual friend’s shenanigans have led to a critical business venture being forced behind schedule and it would be in your mutual best interests if you can assist me in righting this schedule. Please do not see this as a threat, especially as I can provide a lucrative contract for your services.
I will send Mr. Blythe to escort you to my office at two o’clock. Thank you for your good sense in hearing me out on these matters, unlike our friend.
There was no signature but there was no need for one. I frowned thoughtfully and stared at the message for a long moment. I’ve been around, you see, and it has been my experience that when someone tells you to not see something as a threat, it usually is a threat. The fact that I’d be having to deal with the fellow who had blown up my front door also failed to add to my calm acceptance of my situation. Still, I didn’t have a lot of choices here.
Bunny had given me an out and I had gone all in instead. I would have to see this through to the end. Besides, innuendo was only enough evidence to be cautious, not to pass judgment. This could still be entirely on the up and up.
All the same, I figured I had about an hour to try to be ready for this meeting in some way. I set the note down next to the dirty dishes before picking up the notebook and pen. Everything seemed to hinge on the runes bouncing around inside my head, so the best way to be ready was to try to get a handle on the knowledge beating at the walls of my memory.
I took the blank notebook and pen to a small table in the room, pulled over a chair the height of a bar stool (about perfect for me), and got to work. The obvious place to start to crack this was the runes I had subconsciously drawn into my art. I had done more than penned the words by accident. No, I had created them as a defense without even knowing it and placed them in the right place to be used as such. I knew what those words did so maybe I could reverse engineer what my brain had locked up in it.
It didn’t take me more than a half-hour before that pain in my temples had turned into a crushing vice on my brain. It wasn’t hard for me to recall the runes that Aelfie had turned on and I had filled four pages full of runes that rushed out of my brain. To use the proper cliché, trying to remember that one runeword was the key that opened the floodgates, letting all that knowledge pour out.
Well, to a point. And that was why my eyes were throbbing and my frustration at its limit.
The runes themselves comprised a language, much like the runes of the Vikings (as far as I knew, anyway; I’m no historian). Maddeningly, it was a language I didn’t know the name to, but each letter, each symbol sang in my soul. Much like Truespeech, by the time I was done, I found myself reading along as I wrote out the entire alphabet by rote.
The problem came to the whole magic bit. I could read the runes, I could speak their tongue, but there wasn’t a single flash of light, a wall of force, or even a unicorn’s fart of fairy dust to show for that knowledge. It was even more frustrating because I knew how those runes could fit together to form greater meaning. The runeword I had written in my art meant ‘wall’ on the surface, but it held deeper implications: ‘protection’, ‘home’, ‘castle’, ‘safety’. It was that deeper meaning that led to the power that it manifested. Yet still, I could make it do nothing.
I cursed loudly and fluently. Both Aelfie and Sinclair were sure I had the magic, Aelfie had even quipped at how talented I was, but here I was burning a hole into the page with my eyes and all I was g
etting was eye strain.
I massaged my closed eyes and leaned back in the chair. My entire brain was sore from all this thinking and there wasn’t much time before my escort would be here. I should be trying to think of answers but my mind started to drift to thoughts of Aelfread.
At first, I couldn’t believe that I was getting sidetracked thinking about a guy, no matter how handsome his stupid face was, but a moment later I realized I wasn’t dwelling on Aelfie solely because of how well his leather pants molded to his frame. No, I was replaying those tense moments back in my apartment when he triggered the runes I had hung there.
The runes had needed a trigger. They hadn’t even sparkled or stood out until Aelfie gave them a jump-start to turn them on. That’s what I had been missing. Like a computer, I had to find the power button.
“Easier said than done,” I muttered to myself. Maybe I could figure it out or maybe, just maybe I could pull a little con of my own to find out.
Closing the notebook, I hopped down from the chair and sighed. I was out of time to worry about it now. Blythe would be there soon and if I were going to keep up appearances, I had to dress in something other than pajamas.
Chapter 13
IT WAS EXTRA CREEPY to find that the underwear drawer was fully stocked and almost perfectly fitted. Let me tell you that I don’t conform to standard sizes! While I’m fortunate to be nice and symmetrical (something not common to all folks who suffer from dwarfism), my short height, boxy frame, and surprising bustiness for the muscle I had combined to a tailor’s nightmare, especially when it came to a properly fitted bra.
Trying not to think of the pervert factor involved, I went for practical but professional dress, a crisp white blouse, a pleated khaki skirt, and black boots with short heels. I even took the ultimate step: I paid attention to my beard.
As much as I bitch about it, my facial accessory wasn’t going to go away; God knows I had tried for as long as I could remember. If I took Aelfread at face value, it was something important, a signature of Dwarfkind. As I was already going into the deep end, why not dive down to the bottom and embrace the beard? If nothing else, it would be what Sinclair would expect.
