A Price Paid Ch. 04

Bryana dipped her head in assent.

"But, dear Dana, let's not pretend that if the potential gains were high enough, any of us would never even think about expanding our personal boundaries of what's acceptable or not." He ignored the death stare she gave him.

"Torching the docks is quite a step," Petrik agreed after batting the idea around in his imagination. "I might just have to own the world after that. Or several."

"May I continue?"

Brennar again took his seat. "Please."

"The obvious suspects in this are those within your," she stopped herself, "our guilds, freelancers, or outlaws. You all have information that I need. If our situations were reversed I would give it to you."

Dana wondered, "For how much?"

"I would be in your debt."

"But you don't need all our records," Brennar told her, rubbing his hand across his beard. "All you really need are our records on the banished that you have never crossed paths with, which I would be willing to provide to you." He looked pointedly at them all. "Because whoever has done this thing has placed us all in jeopardy and if I can aid in the search I'll do so for the good of my guild and yours, too. The rest of you should do the same and shouldn't have to be spoon fed why it's in your interest to do so."

"If you need particular information beyond that, it can be discussed."

No one objected to that compromise, which pleased Bryana. She would have preferred to be able to have everything so as not to involve any other guild, but, she knew she'd involved them the moment she made the request in the first place, "I appreciate your help."

"I still like the idea of you being in my debt, so I'll help myself double by helping you. I hope you don't mind."

"I expect that you don't care if I do, but I don't. If you can lead me to those responsible, I will not be displeased to owe you."

Petrik slapped his palms to the table. "Now that that's out of the way, let's toast and put aside the negativity."

Bryana reached for the bottle.

* * *

Deres walked the streets of the burned out neighborhood, making his way to the docks, dropping coin for almost anyone that asked and doing so without giving it much thought. Perhaps a few were just looking for extra money, but most of them simply needed as they always needed. He promised himself that he would do what he could to help those who needed his magic to heal them on his way back to the clinic, but, for now, he was consumed with what he needed to find.

He left the street's proper to move into the warehouse district. He moved through the area, asking those that worked there, some cleaning and repairing, some doing their usual work. Just because what happened happened, it didn't mean the world stopped. Wagons still moved in and out, as did ships, the only difference now was that the usable dock space stacked high while they scrambled to find room for the goods that now had no place to be stored.

He used his senses, all extended by his power to examine the area, seeing beyond the walls, each life a small tick of energy that threaded with others. Everything was connected. Magic left its own unique traces and, while he saw telltales here and there, he saw nothing of what he was looking for as he moved from street to street and alley to alley. He even reached those senses into nooks barely large enough to fit a child because that's how he'd lived much of his childhood. If one could get there on their own they could be placed there.

In a narrow crawlspace beneath a bar he sensed life. Peering in, he saw a body huddled in the middle so there was enough room to maneuver if need be and enough warning if someone tried to get in. The boy was asleep still. He may have been a nightcrawler, or he may have been trying to forget hunger and want. He reached into the pouch within his cloaks and pulled from it three gold coins. With his magic, they floated through the gap, coming to rest in the dirt next to his head without a sound.

At least being able to spread some wealth was a balm to his growing frustration. From street, to alleyway, to crawlspace, there was no hint of what he sought, and he found himself wondering if he was off the mark. This took planning. There was a plan to take Khylen and a plan to keep her and the plan was executed by mages. Whether they knew the extent of Deres's gifts or not, they had to know about Bryana. They knew that someone with gifts like their own would seek her, so she would have to be well hidden. That much was obvious, but where he thought he may have gone wrong were in the precautions they would take to hide her.

If it were him wanting to take her, knowing those things about her, he would assume that Bryana had taught Khylen something. That was simply the way of things with the mages in a land where sharing was the only way magic and mages survived. Teaching was done in secret to begin with and they were close. She might have kept her skills to herself and maybe she did, not wanting to reveal the full extent of that skill to Neral or Deres, because she didn't know how they would react to the knowledge. But what if she did teach the girl? Even a basic fire spell for the unprepared would put quite the crimp in things.

There would have to be runes to blunt that magic. It wouldn't take much to absorb the skills of a novice, but they would have to be complex in order to hide her from one of Bryana's skill, though they had no idea of the extent of Bryana's skill after years of learning from Deres. They would have to exist unless these people were stupid. The question was where. The fact was that he could look for months and find nothing. He was beginning to feel dejected and powerless. He wasn't there to protect his child when it happened, and he was failing at finding those responsible.

"Where are we supposed to put this shit?"

A voice yelled back, "Put it in your house for all I care. There's no room for any of it. Put it back on the boat." He spoke more forcefully, now realizing that he had a not half-assed idea under the circumstances. "Stop offloading from where they came from and tell those guys they're just going to have to wait until we make room. They got plenty of space."

"They aren't gonna like that."

"Fuck 'em. They don't get paid unless delivery gets taken. Delivery ain't getting taken anymore right now. Tell 'em that and tell the guys on their breaks to take 'em by the gangplanks just to make sure no one decides to offload the stuff on their own."

Deres closed his eyes and chastised himself for his own stupidity. He went to the places he was familiar with, which made sense, but he'd wasted hours by ignoring an obvious possibility, memory drawing him to the places where he'd lived over elsewhere. They could simply put her on a ship and be gone.

Walking those docks, it didn't take him long to find a likely possibility, a smaller cargo boat, The Water's Edge, that, by appearances was being loaded as he came upon it. At first, it was simply a hunch in that it looked like something that could slip out and no one would take note. When he drew close enough to board it, he felt the first stirrings of magic as a tickle at the base of his brain. His pace quickened, but remained smooth, slowly homing in the magic as that sensation became more insistent. He stepped on the deck, not getting more than half a dozen steps before he was called. "You there. What's your business?"

Deres turned his compact, powerful frame towards the voice, seeing a man a good head taller than he, his dark beard trying to cover the scars of a childhood pox. His green eyes were pale and with just a hint of bloodshot. To Deres, he looked somewhat malnourished, which was not uncommon among sailors. "You're the master of this boat?"

"I am," he said with some pride. "Captain Phelz. Again, what's your business? People just don't get to walk on my boat and wander around as though they own it. I own it."

"Follow me, captain."

Deres turned on his heel and walked the deck as Phelz continued to protest.

"We have business, you and I."

That quieted him long enough for Deres to get to the main hold. It wasn't full, but had no shortage of cargo, with crates lashed from floor to ceiling. At first, and even second glance, there was nothing unusual. Everything was well hidden to begin with and, add the manner in which the eye would naturally be drawn to the bits of cargo over the ship itself, if not for the magic he could definitely feel and almost see, he might not have noticed at all that the hold wasn't as wide as it should be

But it was, and the magic was there. He reached out with his skill and saw the empty space. He squeezed between the crates and the wall, his fingers pressing as he sought the change in density that would lead him to the latch or the lock.

Phelz eyes followed and took his forefinger and wiped away the sweat that was beginning to bead on his upper lip, "What in the depths are you doing?"

"Looking for what's there." He made his way toward the back of the hold. "If you'd show it to me this would be over a little more quickly."

"Show you what? What are you talking about?" He puffed up, placing his hand on his belt, his tone turning dark. "Leave now and I'll forget this."

In response, Deres, without stopping his search, pulled power to himself and allowed his hands to glow for an instant with the deep, swirling red of mage fire. "And if you draw that blade, I'll kill you. I suspect you'll be in some trouble for this, but do you really want to die for it?"

He found the metal beneath the wood. "There we are." His right hand made a half circle above it until he found a bit of wood with a bit too much give. Deres pressed, it gave, and, with a click, a piece of the wall gave way. Pushing inward, the door yielded and his eye for magic saw the runes blazing, circles on circles and patterns over patterns. Their shielding magics were quite good, he admitted, and they had taken no chances with the runes. They were complex enough to dampen the abilities of a full mage for some time, but there was no magic to begin to drain them and no one had returned to clear the spell. In the crawlspace was a long bench that created a u-shape with loops and chains for as many as a dozen bodies to be crammed together and a single unlit candle in a holder nailed to the wall. The thought of Khylen in such a place angered him beyond measure. The thought that others made this trek in bondage over years or longer only added to his desire to make someone pay.

He turned slowly to find the color thoroughly drained from the face of Captain Phelz. He saw the look in the other's eyes and he blinked rapidly. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his hand while now careful to keep his hands from his blade.

"You said this was your ship?"

His heart failed to escape his chest, but not for lack of trying. His lips quivered before he stammered an answer, "I-I...well, yes. It's, umm...it's is my ship inasmuch as I'm the captain. I don't... I don't own it. I'm just an employee."

Deres took a purposeful step towards the man, who seemed to shrink in response, "Then speak to me about your employer, and don't leave anything out."

To Be Continued...