"Who is this lady? I had no clue you were that sort of man.”
I knew this was coming, but I could not stop Agnes from coming with me. No threat, pleading, or evasive maneuver could shake her poking and prodding.
“I wouldn’t dream of dating a guy that looks like that, but how can I study him without observing him in nature?”
“Some weird things you find yourself entwined with, but I should be the very last to judge. Let’s get to work.”
The first order was a new blade for a scythe. As I began feeding Rahmo, he leaped up onto my shoulder. Agnes let out a heavy gasp, followed by scribbling notes on her notepad.
“Have you always found yourself friendly with this spirit?”
The 5th question of the day coaxed a —rather audible— groan from my throat. Every action was questioned, every event a spectacle.
“With this one, yes. In general I feel like the spirits watch me often.”
Approximately 5 more questions, and 7 “Physical measures” later, we were finally on to the scythe head. Bannis stretched a bar of bronze wide, every so often mimicking how I was supposed to hold it. Eventually we ended with our prize. Thin at the blade, wide at the base, with a slight curve downward to the edge.
I quenched the head in the water as usual, when a cinder landed on my forearm. I quickly dusted it off of me as I used my free hand to ensure the process was done right.
Agnes rushed over. “Alright, put that thing down and show me that injury. Hurry up.”
I reluctantly trudged over to a nearby table, placing the now cool blade atop it. She grabbed my hand, and wrenched my arm as far down as she needed.
“Ooh, a standard light burn. You should have a much larger injury than this tiny dot, though.”
The scrawl formed across her arms as a small bubble of water appeared. She slung the bead at my injury.
The impact made me hiss. “Damn, that stings. Agnes what was that for?”
She didn’t answer. The wound did not absorb the conjured water. She waited for a moment as it evaporated, before pouring the contents of a vial onto it instead.
“Another one of your miracle medicines?”
“No its just water. After all, you should know real and magic water are different. The stuff I got from the docks healed you instantly.”
She poured that polluted water on me? As riveting as this was for her —and insulting for me— Bannis hollered from across the room.
“Next step Leonn, I want you to give that an edge on the grindstone.”
Metal against stone was the song of the hour while Bannis attended to the storefront. I could hear the way he peddled his wares to the occasional visitor. Shrewd, and full of the type of language that makes a man think he needs a new wagon.
“You’ve been working in this heat nonstop since this morning. How would you say you are feeling?” Another prodding question, it seemed that Agnes was under oath not to leave me to my own devices.
“Fine, I guess. I could do with a little more quiet, given the attention to detail I need to do this.”
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Ooh, most peculiar... I’m feeling dangerously light-headed myself. I might have to step outside, so you’ll get your quiet soon. Just remember, you get something out of this deal too.”
I nodded, well aware of what I had agreed to.
“Your familiarity with the inner workings and theories of the scrawl will help me too. I do this now, and you’ll help me look into it.” Agnes smiled, before promptly leaving out the side door. Finally, it was just me and this hunk of metal.
Bannis reappeared from the front room.
“Apparantly another forge down the way got the shake-down from the tax collectors. I told him not to get something that looks flashy; shoulda’ listened. Just means more business for us.”
Foxhole metalworks. Bannis told me about them before. To him, they were shady and half-assed craftsman. To the occasional customer they served a vague threat, as many would imply taking their business across the way. Either way, with how stingy my boss is, he’d never give them a discount.
The afternoon was filled with minor injuries and splashes of water. Agnes couldn’t keep her damn hands off of me, and I lost focus multiple times trying to answer questions. As much as I could fume about it, maybe her research could reveal what exactly is wrong with me.
The evening streets were filled with naught but firelight, and spirits burned within every lantern.
“Do you really hate me as much as you let on?”
I thought for a moment on this question; the first not to induce some sort of disgraceful sound from my throat.
“I do not want to seem so.” I started,
“what you are doing is how you know to do it. That, and I kept getting injured by your distraction.”
Agnes nodded, with a solemn look on her face.
“I am definitely too eager, then. I didn’t want to miss a thing, and that made me hyperactive. I’m sorry.”
I smiled, turning to face her as our footsteps met the stone pathway leading home.
“I suppose not all medicine was made in a day, right? If you rush it, you’ll be more likely to miss something important.”
Phrasing it that way reversed Agnes’ frown.
“A whole glide?” I politely studied the inn proprietor’s demeanor, he was serious.
“I know we have a reputation for having the cheapest beds, still do. Everyone is struggling to keep up. If you’ve got a problem you’re free to leave.”
A subtle sigh escaped me as I handed over his gilde.
“Regardless, we need a place to stay.”
Agnes chimed in as soon as the owner was out of earshot.
“I hear this place is crawling with hyperactive men and women. You really stay here?”
I shrugged. “Not too much I can do on 5 gildes a day now that the price of everything’s going up.”
Marilleth’s emerald eyes widened as Agnes followed me into the room.
“Hey, Leonn, what the hell is she doing here?”
“Helping me out, she wont be too much of a bother.”
She huffed again in response, but not in protest.
Agnes cleared her throat.
“Right, so you said your magic thinks and responds to you?”
I nodded, “I can ask for water, or for my fire to stop attacking, and it listens.”
Agnes’ neutral expression bent itself into a wicked smile,
“oh now we are getting somewhere. Tell me more, hurry up.”
I continued to speak about as much as seemed suspicious. The only thing I felt like keeping to myself was the odd feeling... sometimes like my scrawl will speak to me. Not through words, but through feeling. It felt as if the beast has a completely different personality than what ever is responsible for water. Both of them were undoubtedly just me...
Agnes finally stopped writing, only due to the limited space in her notepad.
“I’ll find my usual circles and poke around for some answers, but I can tell you from what I’ve seen it definitely isn’t normal.”
She gestured with an open palm toward me.
“Unlike what you’ve said, magic should be something you control, not something you have to force. Most kids have their first backfire at around 7.”
Marilleth interjected suddenly, “are you done? I’d like whatever peace and quiet we can get here.”
I was just about to invite Agnes to stay a moment longer, not wanting to rush her out the door, when a wave of realization crashed across her face. She reached for her satchel, her hand rifling through it, before pulling out a small bottle. Inside was a root suspended in something I couldn’t name.
“Ah... I thought I’d forgotten it. Gods, I’ve lost track of time.”
The color drained from Marie’s face upon inspecting the plant.
“What the hell are you using evening-shade for?”
Silence drowned the room as Marilleth and Agnes locked eyes for a moment. Words buzzed around the crowded streets outside like flies, and more muffled sounds emanated from down the hall.
I turned, utterly baffled at the question.
“Probably cures some fever or something.”
Agnes shoved it back in her bag,
“yeah its just some medicinal stuff. It’s something you wouldn’t get.”
She quickly hurried out the door, as if eager to avoid any explanation. Marie crossed her arms and turned her eyes to study the wall, peeling from poorly applied paint.
“...Not for fevers...”
she whispered to the wall, barely loud enough to hear.
She grabbed at a few strands of her hair, wrapping them firmly around her finger in a coil.
