Chapter 36. A Favor Owed

  He had let himself get too comfortable, he realized that now. The sense of belonging, of being valued—he had allowed it to envelope him with warm reassurance of his own importance.

  Well, no more. His cell mates were not his friends, he knew that now. His friends would never force him to do things he knew were so wrong.

  Tonight, he would speak with Monty, convince him he was ready for the next step. Jeremiah was confident that was the way to learning more about the cult. Whatever it took, he would do it—his time as a Stonefist was over.

  “Let me know when you’ve got a lull in work,” said Dronkal as Jeremiah entered the living room. “I want you out with Sweet Melissa next chance we get.”

  “Aww, yay!” said Sweet Melissa, looking up from her book.

  “Out with Melissa?” asked Jeremiah. “You mean like when I went with you and Shug?”

  “Yup, Monty’s orders,” Dronkal said. “He wants you to understand all facets of the operations. I think he might be grooming you for a Cell leader position.”

  “Wow, that’s fast,” said Shugga.

  “Monty seems to think there’s a future for him,” said Dronkal.

  “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun!” said Sweet Melissa. “Just don’t wear any clothes you’re fond of.”

  Their secret knock was rapped on the door. The members of Cell Four exchanged looks. and drew their blades.

  Dronkal went to the door. “What?” he said through the wood, foot braced against the doorframe.

  “Evening Dronkal,” came Pete’s voice. “I’m here to see Jay of Shabad.”

  No one relaxed, but they opened the door to reveal Pete in his usual finery, unperturbed by the drawn weapons.

  “Hello, Jay,” said Pete. “It’s time.”

  ?

  Pete and Jeremiah walked for nearly an hour, to an area of Elminia Jay had never been to. Pete offered no hint of what he wanted Jay to do, merely pointing out restaurants that he thought were a cut above. Jeremiah chose to remain silent.

  They came at last to an entire block of apartments that had been ravaged by fire. The charred remains of all the tightly packed homes huddled together, a derelict monument to the thousands of lives that had once played out here.

  All save one. At the center of the blackened field, a stone tower presided in isolation. It was short by tower standards, but the effect was intentional.

  “Now then, Jay of Shabad, a favor is owed and a favor is to be repaid,” said Pete, smiling up at the tower.

  “No,” said Jeremiah.

  “Come again?” Pete’s smile persisted.

  “Just no. I choose not to repay your favor,” said Jeremiah. Why should he get caught up in Pete’s economy? He didn’t even belong here, he wasn’t dependent on Pete.

  “Ah that old chestnut.” Pete’s eyes twinkled. “You’re hardly the first, you know. Every so often someone decides to thumb their nose at ol’ Pete and his silly favors. And who can blame them? But it never works out for them lad. Do you know why?”

  “I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” said Jeremiah.

  “Naturally, dear lad. It’s because I have people killed,” said Pete. He still wore that easy smile.

  Jeremiah didn’t flinch. “Not exactly a novel threat, Peter. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re still marked.” Jeremiah gestured to Pete’s hand.

  “Spare me lad. The simple scratching of a rune on skin isn’t enough to convey an enchantment’s properties. Oh, you’re surprised? Did you think I wouldn’t do a little research after what you pulled? Worry not, your secret is still safe with me, and there’s no hard feelings. Ol’ Pete appreciates being taught a thing or two. Now as for the consequences, you’ll find that certain friends may not be as willing to take the risks-”

  Jeremiah knew he was referring to Delilah. “ Bring it the fuck on ,” she said in his head.

  “Go for it,” said Jeremiah.

  “Not worried about what will happen to the young lady? Cold lad, quite cold, but illuminating to say the least. How about this then—repay my favors, or I’m going to look into you a touch more than I already have.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jeremiah.

  “I mean, Jay from Shabad, that no one from Shabad is looking for a Jay from Shabad.”

  “So?”

  “Mages go missing quite rarely. Powerful people like to keep track of them, you see. I suspect with a few letters, we can shine some light on this clandestine enterprise you’re on, perhaps inform your new Stonefist friends. Perhaps even the whole city—you know how gossip travels.”

  That did send a bolt of fear through Jeremiah. Everything would be compromised, all of his hard-won progress dashed away. No chance he’d be allowed anywhere near the cult as Jeremiah Thorn, the famous necromancer last seen commanding hordes of undead alongside the armies of Dramir and had the ear of the powers that be.

  “Well, what’s the favor, first of all?” asked Jeremiah. Maybe it would be easy.

  “There’s a good lad.” He turned back to the burnt-out city block. “Now, what you see before you is the tower of Madam Furchot. Inside her bedroom is a necklace with an amber pendant. Quite gaudy, you’ll know it when you see it. Fetch it for me.”

  “What, right now?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Unfortunately yes, I need it within the next hour. I do apologize for the time pressure, but opportunity is knocking. Ol’ Pete has a chance to step up in the world, and he is obliged to take it.”

  “Pete, no offense, but there’s better thieves than I out there. Why aren’t you using them?” It was an honest question. Jeremiah had some successes under his belt, but he was no Bruno.

  “Excellent question, lad. You see Madam Furchot is what’s known as an evoker, and she—”

  “Woah, woah, woah. Wait. An actual evoker? Do you know what that is?”

  “A mage of some sort,” said Pete, waving a hand.

  “Evokers are mages that specialize in energy creation,” said Jeremiah.

  The news failed to diminish Pete’s smile. “Oh?”

  “They’re who you think of when you think of mages. They shoot fireballs, blasts of lightning, sonic explosions, something called prismatic energy…Pete, is she the reason why all these buildings are burned down?”

  Pete looked at the forest of blackened timber with renewed curiosity. “I have heard she enjoys her solitude more than most, and this is certainly not the first time this block has burned down.”

  “Pete, come on,” said Jeremiah. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Now, now, lad, the time for complaining is long since past. Now is the time for action! Don’t tarry now, the night is young and I’ve further work for you after this.” He gave Jeremiah’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze before departing.

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  Jeremiah looked up at the tower. “Maybe she’s not home.”

  ?

  Jeremiah scampered away from the tower’s entrance. The door was so heavy and solid that it had hurt his hand to knock on it. From his hiding spot amongst a burnt out building, he watched and waited for signs of activity.

  The square tower had only four windows, right at the top of course, facing the cardinal directions. A crooked stove pipe jutted out from the gabled roof, seeping a wisp of smoke.

  “Why do mages like towers?” Jeremiah wondered.

  “Good views,” said Flusoh. “Let’s you keep an eye out for angry mobs, people asking for miracles, and thieves like you.”

  No movement. No lights. He could try and use enchanting to Decay through the front door, but the number of runes needed to get through such a massive slab would be considerable. Draining too much focus was a real possibility, not to mention how exposed he would be while etching them.

  Jeremiah realized there would be nowhere to escape to should she spot him. The only place to hide were the ruins of buildings she’d already proved willing to burn down.

  “Up we go then,” he thought.

  Jeremiah darted to the foot of the tower to huddle in its shadow. He selected an ashen brick at his feet and inscribed it with the rune Cohesion. Pressing the enchanted brick against the tower left it stuck in place.

  He repeated the process with another dozen bricks, always placed above the previous to create a makeshift ladder. It was as he was climbing the ladder to place the tenth brick that Jeremiah encountered his first problem—he was getting tired.

  Craning his neck upward, Jeremiah was dismayed to realize he had covered barely a quarter of the distance to those top floor windows. His fingers and forearms ached, and making even the inscribing process painful.

  “Okay, buddy, we need a better plan.” Gus, napping in his pocket, did not answer. Jeremiah wondered how many bricks he could carry up the ladder in a single trip. If only he didn’t need to climb down the ladder, he was wasting a lot of energy in needing to get back to the ground to get more bricks.

  “Huh. That’s an idea.”

  He inscribed If Contact, Cohesion on two new bricks. Touching the Contact point caused the brick to adhere to the wall, releasing the Contact let the brick come free. He no longer needed to return to the ground, these two ladder rungs would take him all the way to the top.

  A quick test on a wall confirmed they worked, so long as he was careful with his grip. Brushing the Contact point at the wrong moment would bring a swift end to his thieving ambitions.

  Wedging the toes of his shoes between the thin seems of the stone work, Jeremiah used his climbing bricks to scale the tower. His arms ached from the work they’d already done, but the strength he’d gained working as a second-story man over the last month served him well.

  He reached one of the tower windows and, praying Madam Furchot wasn’t looking out that window at that very moment, peeked inside.

  The highest room of the tower was a luxurious bedroom and a storage chamber of wonders. Thick rugs were piled haphazardly, layered atop one another to cover the entire floor in a chaotic array. A four poster bed sported a dozen pillows and a sky blue canopy, silken and soft. Surrounding it, glass curios displayed sparkling fascinations, a thousand trinkets and treasures from the corners of the world.

  Jeremiah pulled himself through the window. Crowds of intricately carved wooden masks surveyed the room, the gemstone-tipped hands of a standing clock leapt between positions seemingly at random, and an entire case of wands gleamed behind blue tinted glass.

  “Steal everything , ” said Bruno.

  “No way—I don’t know what this stuff is, I don’t know what it does, and I want as little involvement in this woman’s life as possible.”

  Jeremiah placed the bricks on the window sill for safe-keeping, then began to scan the room for the gaudy amber necklace Pete had described.

  In contrast with the delicate jewels and clockwork devices that crowded the curios, the necklace was garish, sporting an oversized gem, ornate gold fittings spotted with diamonds, and a heavy layered chain. It hung on a necklace stand beside the bed.

  “Okay, at least this part is simple,” thought Jeremiah.

  He crossed the room on tip toe, senses on high alert for anything amiss.

  Nothing.

  He neared the necklace and inspected it for any signs of security.

  Nothing.

  He lifted the necklace off the stand and froze, holding his breath, waiting for something to happen.

  Nothing.

  “Huh,” he breathed out in relief.

  The floor at the center of the room exploded in a blast of flame, burning chunks of wood and carpet ricocheting like crossbow bolts. Splintered shrapnel pelted Jeremiah, who ignored the pain and dove under the bed.

  “Who’s in my HOUSE?!” A scream like ringing metal pierced Jeremiah’s ears. From the new hole in the floor, a human woman in blazing red robes arose, held aloft by a deafening tornado of wind that whipped her gray-streaked hair in a wild frenzy.

  Madam Furchot surveyed the room, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Blue fire smoldered around one clenched fist, while arcs of electricity sparked out from the other.

  “Die in hiding then!” The flames leapt from her hand to a corner of the room, blossoming into a sphere that ignited everything it touched. Jeremiah felt the temperature rise instantly. With the other hand, she raked lighting in a circle around herself, obliterating anything it touched. The lightning caught the bed Jeremiah was hiding under, blowing the mattress to pieces, but thankfully leaving his hiding place intact. For now.

  “Okay, I’m screwed,” thought Jeremiah.

  “Consider your enemy,” said Allison, “She’s a mage, just like you. She’s a human, just like you.”

  Jeremiah seized a blasted plank of wood that had slid under the bed and inscribed on it as fast as he could.

  “I’m sick of this city!” Madam Furchot was screaming. “I’m sick of the little insect people in it! I am a god compared to you! I will not be defied! I will burn this entire world to the ground and rule over the ashes!”

  “I like her!” said Flusoh.

  “Let’s see how willing she is to turn that fury on herself,” thought Jeremiah. The diagram read Strengthen Adhesion.

  He waited for Madam Furchot to turn her attention to a yet undestroyed piece of furniture, and slipped out from under the bed. Board in hand, he charged the diagram as he leapt towards her.

  The sound of his incantation caught her attention. She turned just as Jeremiah reached her. He struck her in the face with the piece of wood at the same moment she projected a bolt of lightning into his chest.

  Jeremiah convulsed. His body seized with rigidity, then fell limp. His vision flashed white as he collapsed, and he became aware of falling, more pain.

  “Insolent bastard!” An explosion. Jeremiah opened his eyes and found himself in a reading room. Some of the bookshelves were burning. Above him, visible through the hole in the center of the bedroom floor, Madam Furchot was trying to wrench the piece of wood off of her face where Jeremiah had Adhered it.

  She was blinded, but no less dangerous. With a flex of her arms, the top of the tower exploded in a wave of magical force. Jeremiah could see the night sky as rubble began raining down around him. He crawled to the stairs that would take him further down the tower, his body screaming in pain at every motion.

  Fire blasted downwards past the staircase in a tight swirling column, coring the center of the tower. Jeremiah screamed as the flames scorched his skin and threw himself down the stairs. Something high above him exploded as he reached the front door. He threw the wooden bar, pushed the door open, and fled.

  The open door created a great sucking wind as air rushed into the tower to feed fire within. Jeremiah ran as fast as he could to anywhere at all. The heat was following him, biting into every inch of his skin. He had to find a well, or canal, or…

  He was yanked to the ground and doused in water. There was a hissing noise as relief settled over him.

  “You were a bit on fire there, lad. No worries, all taken care of,” said Pete. He continued pouring a skin of water over Jeremiah’s back and head. “You seem to have upset the good Madam Furchot, she’s on quite the rampage. I do believe that tower is done for. Pity that.”

  Jeremiah peeled his blackened shirt away from his torso. The skin underneath was blistered red, spreading from the center of his chest like a sun.

  “I’ve a salve or two for burns,” said Pete. “Remind me to grab some for you. Did you manage to retrieve the necklace?”

  “Yeah, Pete, I got it,” said Jeremiah through clenched teeth. The burning wouldn’t stop. In the distance, another explosion.

  “Splendid! Let us depart before the good madam finishes with her tower and diverts her attention elsewhere.”