Chapter 5: A Job

  Bix slid out of the archways far more confident than she entered, shifting her pack around figuring how she was going to fix it.

  As she turned a corner, she caught sight of a flash of green and flinched. Tilting her head, she acknowledged the man Deverie leaning against the brick wall, examining her.

  He didn't move forward but called to her.

  "That thing—the one you shot." He motioned to where she still had it out. Bix glanced down to it, then back to him wearily. “How does it work?” He asked.

  Bix was surprised by the question, and more out of habit of explaining her creations to the Elders of Detritus, she whipped it out, clicked it open, showed him where the metal one could find on hand was placed, and then pressed into the proper form. It made a whirring sound as the metal was reformed into a disk. Bix showed where a few premade disks could be stored. Bix inserted a disk clicked it closed, stepped back turned, aimed, and fired.

  Her target—one of the brown pillars.

  The impact didn’t damage it too much, but green knives did flutter down.

  Proving that they weren’t dangerous at least.

  Deverie walked over to the pillar and examined it, then turned and looked back at the launcher.

  “You don’t channel magic through it.” He stated more than he asked. Bix shook her head. The only magic she had ever heard of was that of Detritus’s fruit. Deverie looked fascinated. “Do you think I could examine that a bit more? Maybe get a technician to look at it?” he asked.

  Bix raised her brows, sheaved her launched, and rustled around in her pack. Pulling out the pieces she had slowly been collecting to make more launchers for the Elders. Tinkering and clinking pieces together with a practiced efficiency.

  She could feel Deverie’s confusion as he stared at her, she didn’t though let it bother her, focusing on working.

  When she was done, she held out a launcher that wasn’t exactly the same, it could never be exactly this quickly, but it was functional enough.

  Deverie blinked, taking it and doing what she’d shown him with hers. He didn’t shoot it though.

  Instead, his eyes popped up and met her own.

  Bix saw the same dawning that she’d seen in the Elders’ eyes the first time she showed off one of her creations.

  “I will pay you forty coin for every new creation you make if you continue to make things like these for me,” he offered.

  Bix paused and shifted, pausing to take a moment to evaluate his existence. Curious, she voiced, “What is coin?”

  That seemed to stumbled Deverie, not for long, though. He straightened and pulled out a bag, dumping something round and metal that, without melting and forging, was actually rather useless.

  “This is coin. It’s currency—Something that a group agrees has value for trade.” Deverie explained swiftly and concisely before dropping some in her hand.

  “Like credits. The Cities use those,” Bix murmured. She’d never had to deal with credits; there was nothing to spend them on that couldn’t just be traded for. Even when the city dwellers paid them for the things they found, it was in resources and requested tools.

  “You can get around a bit with basic trade, but to survive, you will need coin.” Deverie informed her as if reading her mind.

  Bix looked at the coin. There were different shapes and sizes. Bix sighed.

  “What can be bought with coin, and what is its value?” she asked.

  Deverie didn’t hesitate to explain each coin and it’s worth. After a bit Bix asked questions, weighed values, and negotiated.

  It was a lot easier to take Deverie up on his offer.

  A job.

  She would tinker, and Deverie would have first pick of the new creations she made. On top of her creation work, she would help him around his workshop.

  It seemed Deverie was in charge of the maintenance of many magic-based systems and objects, including new creations and shards of objects.

  The fighting and curating of beast was only a pastime.

  Bix was moved into the tower that was allotted to Deverie.

  There was an official team that dealt specifically, with the object end of things. Deverie though explained that before it reached the team, he and Bix would evaluate whether the things did anything at all to warrant further research of the team.

  Deverie admitted to Bix that he was supposed to have at least six apprentices, he was supposed to train to lighten his load.

  Deverie had only bother to fill the position once before. That apprentice then moved on, and Deverie hadn’t bothered to find another until Bix.

  She was allotted rooms. As in more than one. As in there was one with a bed meant for sleeping, which seemed a waste of space just to use an area for sleeping. One with things to sit on and exist—an area meant for living, which Bix was pretty sure she did everywhere she went. Then one dedicated solely to basic human functions.

  Bix had shut that door, particularly baffled.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In Detritus they’d always managed the separation with just a wall.

  The tower itself didn’t belong to Deverie; It was provided under his position.

  Which was over seen and kind of belonged to Cirillo and his very purple family. Though it sounded as if he got it because of the role he fulfilled as well. So, it only half belonged to him.

  Seeing as Deverie answered Cirillo she knew in a way she did too. Bix also knew that Deverie had sworn some magic sealing oath to Cirillo, so there really wasn’t a world where she wouldn’t have to deal with the purple army on occasion.

  What Bix hadn’t expected was receiving very official summons. Answering and finding herself in a very sparkly room to sit at a table with the whole army of family members, having a meal, talking about their day, asking her about hers.

  Deverie though was also always in attendance as well so she figured this was just a weird added part of the job.

  She started to doubt that when one minute, she’d be talking about very relevant and important things with Cirillo, Iphigenia, or Lodovico—adeptly handling a situation—and then the next, they would turn and something would be in her hands and before she could think long enough to refuse she’d look up they’d disappear into. The. Air.

  Bix didn’t think she’d have as much issue with it if it was ever in exchange for something. No, it was always just a thing they gave to her.

  So, she kept a list of everything they’d given her.

  And all of it sat in a trunk in the sleeping room.

  She also kept a list every time they claimed they had a job for her—which they sometimes did— but other times she’d find herself sitting at a table sweet foods sitting in front of her or being dragged through some sort of acquiring trip which again they would give her things.

  Every time any of these things happened she’d enter Deverie’s office and give him a detailed report of the strange situation. Deverie, who was always working on something, would stop what he was doing pinch the bridge of his nose, and let out the most suffering sigh.

  “I will see if I can talk to them.”

  He’d promise.

  Every time.

  So, Bix was absolutely sure that what she was being asked to do was, in fact, not an alternate translation of “work” in this world and was, in fact their fa?ade to recruit her into their purple army.

  At this point, whatever.

  If they wanted to pay her for their own delusional pretend, she wasn’t going to put the effort in to stop them. Bix mulled, pulling out the latest thing she was tinkering on. Actual work.

  She’d mostly made launchers, which Deverie would send to be magically imbued. Deverie for some reason always complained about everything having to be magically imbued and how it was lost on the world how amazing having something that wasn’t magically imbued could be.

  Bix though was utterly fascinated by the idea of magically imbuing objects. She kept sneaking peaks at the books that she couldn’t fully read, to try to piece together how she might steal that talent, for herself.

  That would take more time.

  And figuring out if she had.

  Bix narrowed her eyes.

  A capacity for magic.

  Bix though found a different fill for her magical curiosity that needed no magic of her own. In the pile of discarded items Deverie deemed to not function correctly and would have to be disposed of with the greatest of care. So, they built up in a steady pile as he pushed off having to do so.

  Which tugged at Bix’s very center. She would sit and as easily as picking up parts from the sky-high piles of metal, picked out pieces of possibly magic things and played with them.

  It was sometimes hard to get a thing to in act a magical ability but after a while of studying a few hundred pieces she had about twelve that did something, if usually poorly.

  Sometimes, an effect from one object would trigger a reaction in another and that would consumed her entire attention for a good deal of time.

  This time she almost had something she knew it.

  Bix looked up from her seat on the floor when Deverie came to a screeching halt staring at what she was working on. Bix stiffened, forgetting that this wasn’t Detritus and discarded items weren’t simply expected to be on her person.

  Deverie, though, crossed his arms and looked intent.

  “Well, now, what does it do?” he asked expectantly.

  Bix clicked the one magic stone into knocking into another causing something to turn and a sharp and focused flame appeared and then she twisted a strange carved emblem and chilling air came out.

  Bix took two pieces of metal.

  “Basically the flame is sharp and hot enough that it will melt the metal but if metal gets too hot it sometimes shatters so that’s why we have the chilling to assure that nothing gets too hot and it sets nicely.

  Deverie watched what she was doing intently.

  “You aren’t imbuing it with magic.” He murmured then he looked at her. Deverie’s smirk was a slow-blooming creature. “You said your world didn’t have magic?” he clarified.

  Bix raised her brows at the repeated question.

  “Other than the growth of the Faerie fruit,” She agreed. Deverie shook his head, motioning to her creation.

  “That is amazing. You do realize that. It would take me weeks to figure out how each individual magic is triggered all on it’s own, then even longer to aptly explain it to someone else how to trigger them, let alone take all the part put them together to create a magical function that doesn’t need the active imbuing of magic.” Deverie informed her. Bix paused, turning her creation over not fully understanding why he was so excited and not sure if he’d be honest if she asked. Bix shrugged.

  “In Detritus there were piles of discarded things as high as buildings. We sort through it. I like keeping my hands busy so I was always seeing how things work. Eventually, the things I tinker with just start working.” Bix offered. Deverie paused, and looked for a moment not upset, but cautious.

  “Bix… Did you… have people?...Back in your world?” he asked her.

  Bix furrowed her brows, then shifted considering his words not how she would classify them but how she thought this place might think and started to weave together an explanation.

  “When we were young, we were raised in pods. So, we had people we called Brothers and those we called Sisters. But we grow out of those identifications. No one uses the terms except for the young ones and the caregivers.” Bix explained. “Though if your in the dining hall and you’ve had a particularly good day, and someone else did as well you might sit and reminisce and laugh about how you were once a Brother or a Sister.” Bix offered remembering seeing people do that actually… decently often… Bix trailed off realizing she’d never gotten the chance to have those moments. “Most of my pod who grew up with me are dead,” Bix admitted. Bix shook her head and met Deverie’s eyes.

  Bix was surprised to see that Deverie’s face had fallen like she’d shattered it.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

  Bix paused and opened her mouth to say that was just the way of things. The words wouldn’t form. Bix didn’t know what else to do but shrug.

  “I drew their faces. I taught the ones that were given their names about them. When someone dies in Detritus, they are forgotten and their name is unused, so it becomes someone else’s. They replace the old… I was never good at that,” Bix admitted in a murmur.

  For a moment, she saw flashes of her Brothers and Sisters in her mind. It always ached but now it felt ever growing in the back of her throat.

  Deverie’s hand landed on her head in a firm pat. Pulling her blinking out of her thoughts.

  “Your name is Eldrabix right?” he asked.

  Bix grimaced.

  “Just Bix. I’m not of Eldra anymore,” Bix reminded. Deverie nodded and smirked, then he paused.

  “Well, this is your home now, Bix,” Deverie insisted his voice cracking.

  Bix wasn’t sure what he was getting on about.

  Yes, this was where she settled for at least a while, but he said it like, that was a big thing. Bix didn’t like whatever was hanging in the air here. So she offered, “But Abradonisiabix is way too long,” She made sure her tone was as even as possible, holding his gaze until Deverie broke his seriousness to a laugh.

  Then he paused again, hissing out a swear.

  “I thought he was an idiot for it but you know Croiabix is actually rather adorable,” Deverie sighed again, as if he hated even the thought of giving Cirillo credit for anything.

  Adorable? She rolled her eyes. Then, though, Bix considered. It didn’t sound so very terrible this time around. Not permanent but for now.

  “But I’m still Bix.” She clarified.

  “Yeah. You’re still Bix.” He agreed. Bix smiled at that.

  That could be amazing.

  For now.