Turning Pages (The Arbiter Book 1)

by Brhi Stokes

  Once again, I felt rather than saw the impression of their smile. “Instead of doing simply the bidding of Earth’s Masters, would you like to help negotiate between the planes? To assist where needed, to bring about cooperation between them?”

  The calmness dropped from me, and I started to shake my head. “Oh, no. No, that’s… a very kind offer but it’s certainly not something I’d be interested in. No. Thank you.” I was quite done with helping fixers sort out their problems, thank you very much. If I never had to deal with another of my kind again, it would be too soon. All I wanted was to go back to my flat, drink my whisky-laced-tea and wait for the next job. After all, I had figured out a year ago that negotiating was not my calling. The events of the past few weeks had been enough to stick me with a permanent headache, so there was no way I intended to invite more of the same into my life.

  “Ah. I am sorry to hear it. I think your skills would assist the realms in becoming kinder places. Are you sure? It will be a rewarding position, becoming an arbiter.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it is. But no, no thank you. I’ve had my fill of good deeds for the month - possibly the year.”

  The mask tilted to one side as the creature cocked its head at me and I was so reminded of the fox-masked messenger that I took a step back from it.

  “My brother allowed you to return with the Sacred Oath,” said the creature. I was so baffled by the statement that I just stared.

  “You…” I ventured, voice quiet, “are not a messenger. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Oh… And your brother…?”

  “Surely has his own reasons for wishing the Oaths stolen from us.”

  I was not entirely sure that I followed, but I nodded regardless.

  “Would you return to your own realm, Page?” I did not recall giving anyone from Evisalon my name, and a tingle traced its way down my spine as it left the creature’s masked face. I could only nod.

  The creature turned their mask towards the door and nodded. Gently, they cupped my face with one white-gloved hand, before moving down the cathedral and to the small door from which they had entered.

  As I stepped toward the cathedral’s main doors, light from the stained glass windows caught my eye. I glanced up at the nearest panel and my footfall slowed. Wrought into the window was an image of a white-robed figure, adorned with a mask. My eyes were drawn some panels down, past the images of waterfall-clouds and islands, to a darker figure. Another masked creature, this time in black robes; the two beings faced each other from several panels away. The fox creature’s panel was decorated in deep purples and reds, while its wolf-masked counterpart’s held whites and yellows.

  It was only the approach of my guide that had me wrenching my eyes uneasily away from the stained glass windows. As they approached, I saw that silver-coloured tears flowed down their cheeks as they stared at the door through which the masked creature had disappeared. Finally, they turned to look at me.

  “You will return now?” They reached out a hand towards me. “Come with me.”

  Hesitantly, I took it and let them lead me out of the cathedral and back to our mounts. Once more, we caught the eyes of people around the islands, but their gazes seemed more firm and less fearful as they watched us ride away from the cathedral. Perhaps it was simply my imagination, but the world felt a little warmer. In the distance, a small nimbus was reforming. Its roiling grey mass fading away, the green lightning that marred its surface disappearing. It looked as if the world was restoring itself.

  When we finally reached the grass where I had awoken, I laid back down on it. I was not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly was not the gentle touch to the centre of my throat before a cool, soothing nothing.

  **

  Waking up was not nearly so pleasant. Everything was dark and fuzzy around me, and a deep cold penetrated through my entire body. I drew in a breath and water poured into my lungs as my body began to flail in panic. I scrabbled for the ground, reaching desperately for something to cling to as my mind started to reel. My hands made contact with something slick but rough and I pulled myself towards it. I slipped and slid against the surface, my hands coming into contact with something solid above me. I thrust them against it until it gave way, cracking into pieces so that I could break the surface.

  As I pulled myself up onto the rocks, I coughed up what felt like litres of liquid. I coughed until I began to retch and vomit and then collapsed onto the damp rocks beneath me. Never again, I thought grimly, will I die in water.

  Once I was sure I had purged all of the liquid from my lungs and I was sufficiently half-frozen, I pulled myself up the bank and onto the street. My limbs were somewhere between burning with pain and completely numb, and it took a few strikes with the palm of my hand until I could properly move my legs. It was late in the evening, but only a light snow had covered the ground. Any colder and I might have been in serious trouble.

  I tried to imagine a series of waking up under the ice before freezing to death beneath it over and over again and felt ill once more. I tried to convince myself that the rivers here never froze over, so the idea was fanciful at best, but it did not help. Damply, as my clothes slowly froze, I made my way back to the car I had parked nearby and tried to insert the key into the ignition while shaking profusely. It took a few tries to get it in and I blared the heat as I drove home.

  Thankfully, the trip was only a few minutes, though my front door proved just as difficult to unlock in this state as starting the car had been. I trudged damply up the stairs, trembling as I stripped off my half-frozen pants. I was so busy trying to get the lid off the morsridone bottle, that I did not initially notice my visitor.

  The black cat on my dining room table cleared its throat, drawing my eyes up to it as I stood in my underwear on the landing with my bottle of pills, shaking.

  “My, my, you are a sorry sight,” it told me.

  “Oh b- be q- quiet,” I retorted, my lips in disagreement about the whole talking business.

  “I see you’ve become very bad at doing your job properly,” it said as it leapt from the table and followed me down the hall to the bathroom.

  I ignored it as I turned the shower to hot, stripped off the rest of my garments and stepped into the steamy cubicle. The water was warm, I knew that, but stepping into it made me feel as if I had been plunged further into icy water. I bit down a cry of surprise so as not to give the cat anything else to work with, and closed my eyes, willing the strange feeling to stop.

  “Did you need something,” I asked when I had found my voice. It echoed around the shower and out through the bathroom. From beside my sink, the cat just eyed me.

  “You can’t have come here just to watch me defrost,” I said.

  “And why not? Maybe I take great pleasure in viewing your little struggle. Lord knows it is quite a frequent occurrence. Perhaps I should just live here and save myself the trouble?”

  “Typical cat,” I retorted. “Going to go kill all the doves in the courtyard, next?”

  “Hardly. I detest dove, too stringy.” The cat scoffed. “Would this make you more comfortable?”

  I had been ignoring the creature, eyes closed beneath the water of the shower. So, when I looked back to find a naked woman sitting on my bathroom counter, I baulked.

  “I prefer to stay as a cat,” she told me, crossing one slender leg over the other, “but I do think these are nice. Having only two is far more convenient.” She ran her palms up under her breasts and bounced them in her hand for emphasis.

  “They’re lovely,” I told her drily, wishing people would stop entering my house unasked, “but I’d rather be sharing my shower time with a cat.” It would be much easier to keep my eyes to myself that way, though the sight of the woman helped warm me, at least.

  “Why?” I looked back to see that the black cat had returned. “You’ll not be any less naked for it.”

  “Please just tell me why you’re here so you can leave.”

  �
��Very well. The Masters want to know what you spoke about in Evisalon.”

  “Nothing,” I told the cat, “I just returned their trinket and now I’m here.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Page. You’re quite good at it, but I’d rather we not talk circles around one another. Because if that’s a game you wish to play you’ll have to trust me when I say that I will win.”

  A feline lie detector, I thought vaguely, wonderful.

  “I spoke with someone…”

  “A messenger?”

  “No.”

  “Oh!” The cat’s tail was suddenly twitching in excitement. “You spoke with a Master? Which one?”

  “You talk like you know them,” I complained.

  “Oh, I don’t. But I think it must have been very interesting.”

  “It looked a bit like the messenger I saw in Japan,” I admitted. “But it had a wolf mask, instead of a fox one and-”

  The cat devolved into hysterical laughter.

  “Oh…” it gasped, “oh my, I- I’m sorry. You’re too funny. Carry on. P-Please, don’t mind me.”

  I opened the shower door just enough to toss a loofah in the cat’s direction. “It asked me to be some sort of arbiter between fixers,” I had to shout over the cat’s startled yowl. The animal had jumped onto the floor to avoid being hit and now it sat, cleaning drops of water from its face and paws.

  “Very funny,” it whined, “and did you agree to become an arbiter?”

  “No,” I said, stepping out of the shower while the cat retreated to the safety of the hallway, watching me from just outside the door. Considerably less cold, I dried myself thoroughly before I emerged.

  “I see.” The cat stared at me as I walked past it and towards my room. “And that’s everything of note?”

  “Yes. Will you leave now?”

  “Hrmm, I suppose so. I should hope you haven’t left anything out…”

  I shooed the cat away as I entered my room and pulled myself beneath the wonderfully warm covers. There was a conversation I needed to have, but I decided to wait a good few days first. Perhaps just sleep through the entire week before I went, even.

  **

  I was gentler with the travel, this time. I had secured a gun and found a quiet area and, well… you know the rest. I awoke on a rooftop somewhere, strewn across worn tiles as if I had been dropped from a great height. I groaned as I sat up, feeling my broken ribs working themselves back into some semblance of what they once were. I crawled on my rear towards the edge of the roof, before sliding off. The trip to the ground was not long, but a gentle breeze caught and held me, drifting me more slowly to the cobblestones. I glanced up and back at the pair of moth wings protruding from me. At least I’ll be less offensive as a moth… man, I thought to myself, confirming the body I had inhabited was indeed male. I did not stop to think about how the man had fallen to his death in spite of a pair of wings.

  Instead, I found my bearings and commenced my search of the streets. This time, I was prepared for the thunderous roar of the train overhead, at least.

  No one so much as gave me a second glance as I walked through the darkened thoroughfares. The only attention I received was when I paused to ask directions to the Salty Dog. It was not far, I was told by a woman with eyes similar to Avilaigne’s.

  I told myself I was not here to see Matthen and I hated the fact that he had been right about us meeting again. I hoped that I could find Avilaigne alone and talk to her privately. Unfortunately, a part of me knew this would not have been fair to the man who had thrown himself across planes to help me retrieve the Oath. It would be worth it to avoid his smug smile, however.

  I pushed open the doors of the inn and stepped inside. Today, there was no musician, but plenty of people sat around drinking. Not finding either Myrkdrawian amongst the patrons, I headed to the bar. This time, no one gave me a second glance.

  “I am looking for Matthen- or Avilaigne,” I added quickly, looking past the bartender at the various dirty barrels of ale. I found it strange that they had coal trains, but no glass in sight. Even the windows were nothing more than open portals to the streets.

  “Who’s askin’?”

  “Just tell them Page is here.” Assuming they were somewhere nearby, that was.

  The barkeep stared at me for a good long moment. There was a lingering silence until I added, “And I’ll have a mug of ale?” After that, he nodded and fetched me my drink before heading to a set of stairs at the back of the inn. I had not thought to venture up them, myself.

  I was unsure how long I waited. My mug was empty and I was growing restless by the time that two familiar figures finally emerged from upstairs. Matthen was hiding a yawn behind one hand, for which I was thankful as I was not sure I wanted a clear look with his mandibles spread that wide. Avilaigne, surprise written across her pale face, was the first to reach me.

  “You came to visit? Matthen told me you returned the amulet, or… you were going to when he left you. Listen, I’m sorry that I…” she trailed off, wetting her lips with her tongue. “About how I was…”

  “Too drunk to help?” offered Matthen, at the same time as I said:

  “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  We exchanged glances - mine chastising, his wicked - before the three of us headed to the same booth in which we had spoken last time. More ale was brought to us, this time hot, and I stared across the table at the pair of them.

  Matthen was the first to break the silence. “I told you I’d see you around.”

  I sighed. “Yes. You win. I suppose I just wanted to update you on what happened, since you were each also an integral part of one, stealing the amulet,” my eyes fell across Avilaigne, who slumped a little in her seat, “and, two, returning it.” I looked at Matthen, then. He did not smile but the panels of carapace that ran down his jaw parted slightly. I took the expression for amusement.

  “The wings kinda suit you,” he noted, nodding towards me.

  I could not see the full array of colours from where I was, but glancing up gave me a view of intricately woven browns, creams and deep reds. “I’ve always liked moths,” I muttered thoughtfully.

  “You’ve always liked what?”

  However, Avilaigne was waving her hands between us, throwing Matthen an unamused glare. “How about we just hear Page out? I want to know what happened. How did you find that girl in the first place, as well? Isn’t your world enormous?”

  “The Evisalon…ians?” I began, but that sounded wrong. “The Evisalonsi,” that would do, “had a way to find the Oath. They could pinpoint it to a city for me, so I knew vaguely where I was going.”

  “From there,” Matthen added, looking at the woman, “I borrowed your scanner.”

  “You said Matthen told you the rest of the story?” I asked Avilaigne, noting the way Matthen caught my gaze, a subtle warning in his expression.

  “How you found the girl, wrested the amulet from her and then returned? Yeah.”

  Almost. I caught the meaning behind Matthen’s look and said nothing, however. I was not sure whether he was trying to protect Avilaigne or if he just did not want to explain his own history to her. For some reason I found myself respecting his wishes.

  “So what happened when you took it back?” Matthen asked.

  “I don’t think people die there a lot,” I said. “Or… no, that can’t be right. Maybe they just wanted to make sure they found me? Either way, they’d, erm… killed someone for the purpose of my inhabiting them.”

  Avilaigne nearly choked on a sip of her ale, but Matthen’s expression remained neutral.

  “What? Really? What did they do to them?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. It felt just like… waking up. There were no wounds to repair, no discomfort. They may have used some sort of… magic.”

  “Magic?” sniggered Matthen.

  “Trust me, they have it… somehow,” I muttered. Then, I shook my head. “Anyway, they took me back to the cathedral,” I looked at A
vilaigne, “where the Sacred Oath had been.”

  “You mean the amulet?”

  “Yes. I put the amulet back on the statue and the place seemed… better. Everything was suddenly much less cold and when I turned around there was someone there to greet me.” I took a long breath before continuing. “It looked a lot like the…” I glanced at Matthen and Avilaigne in turn, “like it had one of those masks we saw in Japan.” I looked back at Matthen and saw the understanding in his expression. “Except that it was white and gold and shaped like a wolf. It thanked me, and then it asked me if I wanted to become an arbiter.”

  “What’s that?” Avilaigne asked. She was leaning on the table, one hand toying with the spines of her other forearm, clearly intrigued.

  “It told me that the job would consist of negotiating between fixers. Sorting out problems amongst our kind, I suppose.”

  “Sounds like something you’d be good at,” Matthen told me, and I could see from the way his eyes glazed over that he was thinking back to the roof. “You agreed?”

  “God no,” I said, downing more of my ale. I was halfway through the second mug, and the alcohol was warm and thick in my stomach. “Having you lot turn up to my house uninvited was enough for me. I’m not going to encourage anyone else to do the same.”

  “Well that’s a letdown,” complained Matthen. “You came all the way here to see me and don’t even have any exciting news.”

  “I did not come here to see you,” I told the man, frowning. “I came here to let Avilaigne know that the amulet had been returned.”

  “Thank you,” murmured the woman. “I’m glad things will be back to normal for them. Even if things here are…” She looked around the bar for a moment before turning her head to face me. “Well, I guess things are normal here for us, too.”

  “About that, did you speak to a messenger? What did they say?”

  Avilaigne grimaced. “They told me that they’d take what I said about boosting up other planes into account, but that I had to stop what I was doing.” I could tell by the look on her face that she did not think she had gotten anywhere constructive with them.