Second Hand Curses

by Drew Hayes

  “No. No escape.” Acorn lifted his arm and pulled back a sleeve the color of summer grass. There, on his forearm, was a small glowing circle winding all the way around. “Many elves captured, all with different purposes. Mine is not to craft, but to lure. Lure more of my kin into traps, to be bound and taken like all the others. I wander these woods in search of more elves, always hoping not to find any. I cannot tell them truth; mouth won’t make words. You’re not elves, though. Magic not stop me from telling you.”

  “Interesting. I’m surprised your captor didn’t stop you from telling anyone, not just elves,” Marie noted.

  “The shoemaker probably didn’t think it was worth the effort.” Jack was examining the circle around Acorn’s forearm carefully, which was no easy feat given its tiny size. “Tinker elves tend to stay out of sight by nature unless they’re cutting a deal, and even then it’s only for brief intervals. Not to mention, who would Acorn have told? Do you think the average traveler has the means to do anything about this, or that wandering knights are going to upset an entire town’s economy for the sake of some elves? Even we might have brushed off this little fellow if he wasn’t holding your enchantments ransom.”

  They were valid points, although Marie wasn’t quite sure she wanted to accept Jack’s pessimistic outlook. “I’m sure someone would have helped.”

  “Humans do not always have the best record of working against their own interests for the greater good, and even in a situation like this it could be argued that the value of trade and prestige brought to Sagan and its kingdom outweighs the suffering of a few elves,” Frank said. “The argument would be wrong, but I’m sure it could be used for self-delusion.”

  “People are selfish,” Jack agreed. “And I count myself well within that number, which means I have no intent of seeing the gold I spent rendered useless by letting Marie’s enchanted clothes turn mundane.”

  “Actually I spent it, since I paid you back. With interest.”

  Jack waved her off. “Details. Silly details. It still came from my pockets. So then, Acorn, what do you need us to do? Sneak in and kill this shoemaker of yours?”

  Acorn blanched visibly at the suggestion, shaking his head so furiously that his hat threatened to be knocked askew. “No! No no no! No blood. We don’t kill.”

  “Technically, we’d be doing the killing,” Jack pointed out.

  “No. If Acorn asks you to kill, Acorn has taken part in the killing.” He stamped a foot on Marie’s palm to drive the point home. “We just want to be free. Killing won’t do that. Shoemaker has magic contract; he makes us sign it to escape the traps. We all resist at first, but eventually hunger and fear win. When he dies, contract goes to son, and then next son, and so on. Has much gold now, and many sons. Only way to free elves is to destroy contract.”

  Leaning back, Jack swooned theatrically and held a hand to his forehead. “Let me guess, the contract is under lock and key in some well-protected dungeon, and you and your kin are magically bound not to help us to reach it.”

  Tiny as they were, Acorn’s eyes widened considerably. “You right! You magic? Wizard?”

  “Just a man who’s done enough of these jobs to have a general idea what they entail. So we sneak in, destroy the contract, and then that’s it, you’re free?”

  Acorn nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, we be free and run and never look back. Your debt paid. Shoemaker on his own.”

  “No killing, a clean objective, and plain stakes. This is actually easier than I was expecting,” Jack said.

  Both Marie and Frank winced slightly. They didn’t know if it was the Narrative or just the way of the world, but those words were almost never followed by anything good.

  * * *

  “This one is on me. I’ll own that.” Jack’s words were of little comfort as they stood in the street, staring at the massive compound that was the shoemaker’s estate. Apparently he’d learned quite a few lessons from that first encounter with the tinker elves, the first of which was not to underestimate the need for good security. Private guards were stationed at regular intervals, with more making patrols in squads. The high walls around the perimeter were sheer, clearly meant to be unclimbable. Rather than trusting in that alone, though, sharp blades ran along the top of the wall just in case anyone did make it up. Every entrance to the estate was gated, guarded, and locked up tight. Presumably there would be even more security inside to bypass, and then they’d have to search the whole giant mansion to find the elves’ contract. It was not quite the easy job they’d been hoping for.

  “I hate to be the one to say it, but…brute force?” Marie asked.

  “Against that many?” Frank rubbed his chin, the only part of his face visible from under the hood of his robes. “It’s technically possible, though we’d have to set up a lot of distractions to make it seem as if we have a much larger force than we do. If we went in without a plan we’d be slaughtered.”

  “Sneaking in might be possible. I could get over those walls without too much trouble, then take out the guards at a gate,” Jack suggested.

  “Again, possible, but we don’t know how long we might need to search the mansion, and the moment those guards are found the entire estate will come alive to hunt us down.”

  “You have any ideas, Frank, or you just want to spit on ours?” Jack asked.

  The reply was slow coming as Frank turned, examining the area around the mansion. Sagan was a thriving city, and it had the fine touches to prove it. Stone-paved streets, torch stations to light the roads at regular intervals, and grand, sweeping buildings. Directly across from the giant estate looked to be a store paired with a museum. It was a tall structure with spires that stretched high into the air, catching the attention of anyone who passed by. Based on the signs around it, this was the site of the shoemaker’s original store, only now it had been built up to accommodate the increased demand. On top of selling luxurious shoes and filling orders for custom-enchanted goods, it also had a wing dedicate to telling the tale of a struggling shoemaker who had, through hard work and determination, helped mold Sagan into the thriving hub it had become.

  It was a nice story, though one that wasn’t quite so charming once a person knew the real secret of the shoemaker’s success. Frank wasn’t taking note of the signs advertising what lay within, however. Instead, his head was tilting back as he noted the height of the various towers and decorative spires. Jack followed his eyes, smile dimming as he realized what Frank had in mind. “You want to go over?”

  “Worked when we had to get past the wall of thorns.”

  “The wall of thorns didn’t have guards stationed all over the place,” Jack reminded him.

  “So we use dark cloth, wait for a cloudy night, and land on the roof. If we’re lucky, security will be a little lighter once we’re actually inside. If not…well, we are going to have to fight whoever is in there anyway; at least this saves us the trouble of battling our way in.”

  While Marie hadn’t been with them for the wall of thorns job, she’d heard the story enough to know what they were talking about. “Even if we did slip in that way, there’s still the matter of getting out. Our shoemaker isn’t going to be thrilled that his whole town’s industry has suddenly vanished.”

  “True, we need an escape plan,” Frank agreed. “Since we’ll need a day or so for me to fashion the canvas for our entry anyway, if you two fetch me ingredients I can make more powder as well. Blasting our way out wouldn’t be ideal by any means, but it would probably produce enough confusion for us to slip past. Let’s reserve that as a backup plan, though. I’d like to have a chat with Acorn, because I think there might be a more natural distraction we can utilize to make our escape.”

  “So that’s the plan then? Break in, hope there are no guards, and then have a few flimsy ideas for how to bust our way out?” Jack paused, taking his time to think it over. “Not bad, given what we’re working with. Maybe we should take a few extra days though, really research what’s going on here and
form a well-thought-out strategy.”

  Marie and Frank both stared at Jack in shock. The mere idea of Jack spending unneeded time on a job where he wasn’t being paid by the hour was ludicrous; doing it when he wasn’t being paid at all was enough to make them wonder if he’d been bewitched when they weren’t looking. There was only one conclusion to reach: Jack dearly didn’t want to keep heading to their next destination.

  “Perhaps we may, if our task demands it,” Frank finally replied. “But we don’t know how long the Blue Fairy’s next clue will be in Summerly, or if she herself is waiting for us. Best not to dally any more than strictly necessary. I’ll head back to talk with Acorn. I have an idea for our exit he might be able to help with. While I do that, you two rent a room for me to work in. I’m sure you know how important privacy is during my crafting.”

  With a sweep of his robe, Frank turned from the mansion and began walking away. Marie followed, and a few minutes later Jack did as well. Even as he moved, there was an unusual heaviness to his steps. Marie wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but she hoped it wouldn’t continue. Dangerous as these jobs could be, they were far more perilous if one member of the team wasn’t in top condition.

  * * *

  By the time sunset arrived, the group had already secured lodging and gotten the materials for Frank to begin work on the cloak. But the supplies for his powder proved a slightly more cumbersome task. Not because of availability; in the merchant town of Sagan one could find nearly anything. No, the holdup in this case was Jack. He insisted on butting in during the haggling, going past the point of good taste, often souring deals on the verge of closing, and slowing the process of getting each component to a crawl. Ultimately, Marie forced herself into the conversations, taking over for Jack and pushing the deals through. They were still short a few bits by the day’s end, but with the shops shuttering there was nothing to do except wait until the morning.

  Since Frank needed privacy and quiet to work in, Marie and Jack dropped off the supplies and then made their way to a local tavern. They’d been on the road nearly nonstop for a while now, and an evening with a few drinks felt well overdue. After the first few ales, Jack’s mood seemed to dissipate slightly, his ever-present smile taking on a charming gleam rather the mild irritation that had plagued it all day.

  It was a lively night in the tavern, with people playing games of chance, arm-wrestling, and generally making a ruckus. There was a time when this sort of environment would have been so stressful that Marie might have shifted at the slightest glare in her direction, yet now she felt perfectly at home. The realization filled her with a pang of homesickness for her old life, and a much larger sense of worry. If she ever did return, would she be able to slip back into that world and her role so easily? The Marie who had left was very different from the one who would be returning.

  “This place reminds me of the bar we met you in,” Jack said after taking a long draw from his tankard. “Same energy, similar decor, even people raring for a fight in the corner.” He nodded to the edge of the room, where several men were having a discussion that had begun to involve ample yelling and flexing. “Funny how the Narrative works. If a few brawling idiots hadn’t accidentally slammed into you, Frank and I would have left that night with no idea whom we’d almost met. You ever wonder where we’d be if that evening had gone differently?”

  “You must be deeper in the drink than I noticed if you’ve already grown nostalgic and philosophical.” Marie took a sip of her own, mulling over the question. “You two would probably be doing about the same things, I expect. Taking jobs, making gold, generally getting by. Me…it’s hard to say. Perhaps I would have found someone else to help me learn to control my beast, but there’s just as good of a chance that a wandering knight would have met me during a fit and done away with me. It’s really anyone’s guess, but that evening set me on a very particular path.”

  With a flourish, Jack lifted his tankard and drained it down to nothing before dropping it back to the table. “That it did. All because we both happened to walk into a tavern on that particular night, on the same one where rowdy bruisers couldn’t contain their violent tendencies. It’s interesting how a seemingly insignificant choice can have such lasting repercussions on the rest of your life.”

  “I have a hunch we’re not talking about just me,” Marie said. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’ve been in poor spirits since you heard the word ‘Summerly’?”

  Jack looked at her for several moments, mouth opening and closing briefly, before he gave a soft shake of his head. “No, I don’t quite think I’m up for that tonight. But you’re right; I haven’t been conducting myself properly. I’ll try to get a hold on that.”

  “Whatever is waiting for us there, it can’t be that bad. I know you’re not the best man, and I’ve still followed you this far. Frank, I imagine, has seen even more than me, and I don’t think he’ll ever leave you behind. So whatever is in Summerly, whatever you’re dreading, know that we’ll still be your team.”

  “I appreciate that, I do. But I have…other concerns. And that’s enough talk about it for tonight.” Jack rose from his seat with the unnatural grace that never seemed to falter, even after having a few ales. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get us another round. I may even stumble past those arguing gentlemen. If we’re lucky, one of them will take a swing and I can snatch their purses in the chaos. The only thing better than a cold ale is a cold ale bought with someone else’s coin.”

  With that, Jack wandered over to where the brawl was forming like clouds on the horizon, smiling as he plunged headfirst into trouble.

  * * *

  True to his word, the next day Jack was back in usual form, helping Marie locate and purchase the last of Frank’s powder ingredients for a fair price. They decided to buy more than they expected to need, both because racing out of a heavily guarded mansion was a bad time to suddenly run short, and because the ingredients weren’t always easy to locate. Thrifty as Jack was, even he saw the benefit in stockpiling just in case.

  While Frank worked, Jack and Marie spent the rest of the day studying the mansion and the shoemaker’s shop, watching the guard patrols, searching for any weaknesses in the defenses. There weren’t many to find; the shoemaker clearly didn’t spare gold in regards to security. The only thing that ran in their favor was that employing such a large staff meant the shoemaker couldn’t afford to be as picky as he might have wanted. The true talents of the land went on to be knights for the kingdom, or adventuring heroes, or turned to the side of villainy and worked for an evil queen or a scheming witch. What remained was the sort of muscle available for guard work, and while they could no doubt put the correct side of a sword into an enemy, the squads on patrol were likely not as alert or prepared as troops with real combat experience.

  It wasn’t much, and if things got violent those low-skilled brutes could still probably overpower Jack, Marie, and Frank with sheer numbers, but it did give them a flicker of hope that they might be able to sneak past after all. An alert squad would know to check every angle of approach, even the sky, but the lunks they watched barely looked past the end of their own noses. There was always the possibility that someone might turn their eyes skyward on a whim, of course. All this meant was that they had a chance to sneak in.

  The shop/museum proved to be a far less intimidating target. The security was thick around the shop itself, especially where gold was changing hands, but the museum had little more than a few token guards minding the place. It was a font of history, and an ego-driven temple to the town’s “hero”, but there was little inside worth taking. Even the few guards present slunk off at the end of the day when the doors were locked up. Slipping inside would be simple, so long as they avoided the shop areas. That was the trouble with men like the shoemaker: they only fortified the things they considered to be valuable, rather than bracing at every point an enemy might use.

  All in all, it was a fruitful afternoon of inve
stigation. As the sun began to set once more, it was barely visible through the thick layer of clouds moving in. If the weather held, they’d be looking at a night devoid of stars or moon to betray their entrance. Whether it was the Narrative, the Blue Fairy, or mere fortune at work was impossible to say. The only thing that mattered was that their opportunity had arrived, and they were going to seize it.

  * * *

  Helpful as the clouds were, Marie could have done without the wind. It didn’t hinder them in the first part of the infiltration—picking the museum’s lock and easily sneaking past the guards—nor was it an issue as they made their way up the tallest tower. But once they reached the top, they had to emerge into the night and begin scaling one of the decorative spires. They’d all donned dark clothes to camouflage themselves, however the longer they climbed the greater their chances of being spotted, and the wind tearing at their limbs and faces certainly didn’t help speed things along.

  Mercifully, by the time they reached the top of the spire no cries or alarms had sounded below. Quickly, Frank hooked the shaped sheets of canvas he’d prepared to joints on their shoulders and backs they’d donned before the climb. The joints were crude, rough bits of metal bound with leather, but Frank assured them they would hold.

  “Remember, once we take off from here, there’s no stopping until we make it to the roof. If any of us misses the target, try to break in from the ground and find the others inside; we can’t risk coming back for anyone. Oh, and Marie, remember that these are made to hold the weight of a standard human body. If you transform and the leather joints somehow don’t snap away, you’ll still be coming down very fast. So, if possible, don’t transform.”

  “Drat, you really killed my whole evening’s plans there.” Marie checked the joints and the canvas once more. She couldn’t quite help wondering how this simple device was supposed to work, but she trusted Frank. While the lands he came from had different kinds of magic than theirs, she’d seen how effective it could be many times over. If he said this would get them there, she had faith it would. Hopefully.