Chapter 12 – Shopping
An unearthly triple squawk shattered the quiet as the door creaked open. Coral dropped to a crouch and stopped on the threshold, reaching halfway towards the sword that wasn't there. The creature's three heads shook and vibrated, and its limbs clutched and scrabbled briefly before it receded into wary stillness once again.
“I knew that was going to happen”, said Coral, shaking his finger at it. “And, still, it gets me every time.”
He straightened up and moved into the shop. The door closed behind him of its own accord. The shop was cluttered to the point of overflowing. Shelves were stacked with all manner of mysterious fetishes, totems, abstract artwork, and disturbing kinetic sculptures. There were no straight lines anywhere as the rows receded in random twisting paths into the walls of the hollowed out space of the underground shop.
Coral pivoted, searching carefully around him. His eyes paused briefly on a life sized carved ironwood statue of some Underground creature he didn't recognize, moved on to an upright ornate stone box with a foreboding eye slit, and finally settled on a stuffed hassock, made of some iridescent leather. Sitting on it, very still, was an old Orcish woman, wrapped in a shawl made of strips of the same leather. Coral stood upright and then bowed deeply. “My lady, Roxanne”, he said. “You are terrifying as always.”
The old woman smiled graciously, and nodded her head. “If I really wanted to terrify you I would refill the hydrangium spritzer the greeter originally came with.”
Coral held up both hands. “I hope to never get on your bad side!”
“It is usually bad form to drive one's customers insane, though”, she said in disappointment. “And there are few alchemists left who can grind hydrangium and mix it into a soluble liquid.”
“But it is good form to scare them half witless?” asked Coral.
“Half witless, yes”, said Roxanne. “I don't want to waste my time on those who would balk at my wares.” She added after a pause, “Or my prices.”
Coral laughed. “I have been to hell and back for my Queen. I've conspired to kill the gods for my patron. That has prepared me well enough to know better than to come into your shop without a purchase in mind!”
Roxanne drew herself up to her full height. “First of all, your demons and gods are the same order of being. The distinction is semantic. Secondly, as your histories have told you, they are both derived from your own race, and so one should not claim a great victory to have triumphed over them. There are things in this shop older than your species and representative of powers far greater than the greatest of your gods.”
Coral's face became serious. “Yes”, he said, simply. “I am very aware of exactly how correct you are.” He took a deep breath. “And that is why I am here.”
The orc woman looked at him appraisingly. “You aim higher?”
“My patron does”, said Coral.
“Yet, according to her own account, that didn't go so well last time she and her friends faced off against those of a more ancient order. Mmmm?” asked Roxanne.
Coral shrugged. “We're not 100% sure that was related to the first cataclysm. But, in any event, I figured if her course is set, it might be worth doing some better research this time.”
“And that is why you are here?” asked Roxanne.
“Yes”, said Coral. “To buy my patron some reading material.” He smiled and added. “The more terrifying the better.”
“That will be in the back”, said Roxanne. She held her hand out to Coral who helped her, gingerly, to her feet. “All this is for the usual riff raff who come in here”, said Roxanne, waving dismissively at the stacked outré items. She moved slowly and stiffly deeper into the maze of rows.
The deeper recesses of the shop were even more dimly lit. And the light there came either from very unusual sources, or were in things only barely recognizable as lamps. Coral's face ranged from looking ill to contorted as he moved between some purple phosphorescent glow and disturbing patterns casted by a pierced metal lightshade.
Roxanne stopped and surveyed the wares in this particular dead end. “How familiar is your patron with history?”
“To anyone else, I would say well versed, as she's lived through most of it”, said Coral with a smile. “But to you, I think three thousand years barely scrapes the surface.” Roxanne smiled and acknowledged this with a nod of her head. Coral continued, “Let's say she has a certain working knowledge of a few of these ancient beings, but only from observation and... interaction. Not study.”
Roxanne shook her head. “Context. How can one expect to effect any change without understanding the appropriate context.” She traced her fingers over a few volumes on the shelf. “We should probably start with Wiffuluffaraff's Concise History of Exile. What languages is she conversant in?”
“I... Uh..” stammered Coral. “I really don't know. I'd expect she would probably use some sort of magic to read them.”
Roxanne snorted. “Let’s go for Schistgazer's translation. It isn't complete, but it is recent enough her magic might be able to find some corners to interpret.” She handed him a slim leather bound volume. Coral opened the cover and looked at the first page, which had spidery traceries on almost translucent paper.
She moved to another shelf and pulled down a thicker book. “She should start to learn Shiashem”, said Roxanne, “The old fashioned way”, she added warningly. “All the content I think she would be really interested in is written in that.”
“Shiashem”, repeated Coral. “Is that a language, a people, or... what?”
“Of those choices, a 'what' is probably closest.” Roxanne opened the cover and turned the first few pages. There was a full page engraving there. She held it up for him to view.
The pictures was at first dark and indistinct. There were stippled patterns there, but they were hard to work out. After staring at it for a few moments, the patterns of light and darkness could be seen to be tracing out contours, forming shapes and surfaces. Scale fluctuated as parts seemed to be recognizable as intricate patterns and other parts seemed landscapes. As the eye followed it and drew out its form, the shadow of familiar fell away it became clear that they were all part of one object that resembled nothing else. The surface was convoluted and contorted with some sort of musculature that didn't conform to any sort of skeletal structure. There were textures that could be orifices or eyes but nothing that quite seemed to be a limb. The overall feeling was that of seeing something washed up on the seashore after a heavy storm; a creature, or part of one, totally out of its element.
“Yes”, said Coral, with a dry mouth. “That would be suitably terrifying.”
Roxanne closed the book and weighed it. “This is a good introduction. There are three classical primers that I've had copied into a single volume to which I've added an excellent forward, if I do say so myself, giving the provenance of the included texts. I've also added an appendix of several inscriptions that can be translated as an exercise.”
Coral took a deep breath and accepted the book. “Have you... actually met any of these... whats?”
Roxanne shook her head. “There is a great deal of debate about if they are currently extinct or not. Sightings are difficult to confirm and inscriptions are very common since just about everyone uses their scripts for ritualistic purposes. And, since they were exiled to this world, there's always the chance that more could arrive even if they were extinct at any given point. To the question is mostly moot.”
“I got the impression from my patron that these ancient beings came in one's, not whole races of them”, said Coral.
Roxanne nodded. “Yes. There is also debate as to whether the Shiashem should be classed as the same order of being as the other ancients. Some feel they were their servants, or parasites, like many of the Underground races, and others feel they came to this world originally as a single entity, but have deconstituted since then.”
“Do all the ancient beings use this writing? Is that why all the 'interesti
ng' material is in it?” asked Coral.
“No. The Shiashem are unique in that they have actually written about themselves. None other from that order have felt the need to share their misery with others other than through violence. They were the first exiled to this world. And so their language has influenced all subsequent servitor races that had any desire to communicate. And it is some of those who have written about the other ancient ones.”
“Is there, like, an Underground University, with a library of all of this? Maybe I should buy her membership” said Coral.
“Ah”, said Roxanne. “Let me not mislead you. There are only a very few collectors, like myself. We might meet one another once a lifetime. Otherwise we barter and trade our goods through the Underground networks. I do not know my fellows as individuals. They may be institutions, or cults. They probably don't distinguish between me and my mother, and won't when it comes time for Penelope to take over. We are each a source of information. It is through our trading, and occasional writing, that we exchange opinions and references. It is a conversation that takes place over centuries.”
Coral nodded. “That's quite a different scope. Up here we've gone from hocus-pocus magic to this new, refined magic, the collapse of the demons and death of the gods in a fraction of my lifetime.”
“My preference would be to wait a hundred years or so and see how it turns out, but my lifespan probably isn't up to it.” She rubbed an arthritic shoulder for emphasis.
“Well”, said Coral. “Unless we end up defeating Death itself, I might have the next best thing.” From a bag slung over his shoulder he pulled out a large volume. The cover was of finely worked leather, with silver highlights woven into the skin itself, tracing out a pattern of leaves. A large brass clap held it shut with a geometrical pattern combination lock.
Coral placed it on the table and keyed it open. The pages were of vellum, but split so thin to allow for hundreds in the folio. But they were dense enough that light did not shine through them or for the ink to stain both sides. The pages were covered in a flowing cursive script, with a myriad of diacritical marks and colorful highlights. At points there were detailed diagrams, landscapes and portraiture of an almost completely realistic nature.
Roxanne's hands went to the pages right away. She turned them, feeling the texture of it on her fingertips. She bent her eyes close to see the strokes of the pen on it, and the nature of the ink used. She moved a light of a less esoteric color closer to see the true hues of the pictures. “It is beautiful”, she said. “What is it?”
“It is written by Lady Gwendolyn, my patron”, said Coral. “It is a diary of her observations of the world, from the cataclysm to the fall of the first Romitu empire. About three thousand years of surface history.”
“I see”, said Roxanne. “She has had a unique vantage point.”
Coral gave a sideways smile. “Don't think I didn't come shopping without considering what I would pay with!”
Roxanne smiled and gave him a bow, then chuckled. “I was looking forward to some serious haggling.” She indicated the book with a wave. “I cannot possibly insult this effort by finding anything insufficient with it.”
“Excellent!” said Coral. “My only problem is if my patron develops a taste for this stuff and wants more. I don't know how to top this!”
Roxanne smiled and patted his arm. “I'm sure you'll think of something.”
Black Warrior Page 12
