Arcanum - Of Steamwork and Magic Ch. 05

"Listen, boy," Mr. Wright said, puffing on his cigar. "Let me move the newspapers. In Tarant, danger sells. A sob story about some half-orc that crawled out of the wreckage won't move papers. War brewing with Arland? Now that is a story."

"But I thought the United Kingdom and Arland were at peace," I said, my brow furrowing.

"They won't be when I finish running this story!" Mr. Wright chuckled.

This was not what I had intended when I came here. To be blunt, I wanted the story to focus on my own self, Rayburn Cog. I wanted to walk away with my face in the papers, so that every constable who saw me would realize that shooting the sole survivor of Tarant's greatest disaster would not be an exceptional way to continue their careers. But I could see that appealing to Mr. Wright's finely honed senses of humanity wouldn't get me what I wanted. Fortunately, there was an ace up my sleeve. "Well," I said. "That is...one story. But you did not let me get to the half-ogre in the wreckage."

His brows rose. "An ogre?"

"Nor the medallion around their neck," I said. "The medallion bearing the five pointed star and closed eye of a mysterious sect of assassins. A mysterious sect that has been hunting me, the last survivor of the Zephyr, from the very moment it crashed." And at Mr. Wright's incredulous look, I snapped my fingers. Sally brought over our luggage and I rummaged about until I found what I had been seeking. Three medallions – one from the half-ogre, and two from the corpses at the Shrouded Hills inn. I had taken them and kept them, never knowing when they might be useful. But now, I was vindicated for my somewhat macabre habit of stealing from slain enemies.

Mr. Wright picked one up, his brow furrowing. "This isn't fake..." he said, turning it about. "This is hand crafted – I've never seen anything the like." His brow furrowed further. "Assassins, you say?"

"There's been a gnome, humans, half-ogres," I said, shaking my head. "Whoever they are, whatever they are, they recruit in great numbers and very diversely. And they seek my death – and the death of everyone in Tarant who stands against them. We don't know who is safe, or who is at risk. Why, Senators may even be next."

Mr. Wright looked positively delighted.

Getting my picture taken for the newspaper took the rest of the afternoon. The photographer required me to sit quite still for my daguerreotypes. When I asked him about it, though, he sneeringly explained that he was using a far newer form of photographic technology, one called a tintype. As the photographer's barely disguised contempt for me precluded me asking any more details about the photographic technology, I instead simply tried to sit as still as I could for the photographs. Once he had taken them all, it was time for us to head back to the inn and turn in for the night. However, leaving the newspaper offices and starting down the street as the electric lamp lights were kindled led to a most unusual meeting.

We had just walked past the building adjacent to the newspapers office when I heard a woman's voice call out: "Sir! Good sir!"

I turned, half expecting her to be speaking to someone else, but no. The woman who had opened the door to the apartment next to the newspaper was standing on the front step, waving to me gently with one hand. She was a middle aged woman, a plain looking creature with a square jaw and features beginning to wrinkle. But it was the look in her eyes that made me distrust her. A kind of...excited glee at seeing me, the kind that someone gets when they see a particularly ferocious beast that they think they can tame. I frowned and walked forward.

"Sir," the woman said. "I have seen you, and here, you are..." she breathed in, her full chest – emphasized by her corset and her frilly pink dress – swelling. "Ah, yes. I saw in the minds eye that you would come. A half-orc. A wanderer."

I chuckled, softly. "You have some details right, good madame, but-"

"Your name is Rayburn Cog," the woman said, her eyes half closed. "And you are seeking employment. Safety. Money."

I blinked. The newspaper had given us funds for the story – five hundred gold, enough to purchase a new revolver and have a comfortable night in the inn and to wait for the story to circulate around town before continuing on the Garringsburg mission. But I was still always interested in staving off the near constant specter of poverty that loomed about this little group's shoulders. I smiled, ever so slightly. "How did you hear my name?"

"I saw it," the woman said. "My name is Delores Beston, Seer of the Unnatural and Prophetess. I so happen to have a mission, one that you can fill perfectly, Mr. Cog." She turned, then started into the apartment.

"I don't like this," Virginia muttered.

"Aye," 'Magnus' whispered. "This barmy lass doesn't look like a mage, n' no magick can see the future. Elves might claim so, those lily livered tree hugging-"

"There might be ten of those assassins in there, waiting for us," Virginia added.

"If there are," I said, nodding. "Then we'll have ten potential interrogation subjects when Sally Mead Mug snaps their spines."

Sally nodded her head, cheerfully.

There were no assassins. What there was was a parlor that was draped in red and dark shadows, with a circular table in the middle of it and two comfortable chairs. Miss Beston had taken one and was caressing, somewhat sadly, the centerpiece of the table: A cracked, glass orb. I took my seat as well, frowning as Beston murmured. "This is my crystal orb. I used it to see the future – it was how I saw you. But it has broken..." She shook her head. "I can pay you quite some gold and see your future...if...you might get me a replacement?"

I felt uneasy in this room. The way the sounds were muffled, the faint, odd odors in the air, the way that Beston sat, her creaky, sighing voice. Everything here spoke to me of mystery and magick. I adjusted the collar of my suit, sitting up a bit. "Where might I find-"

"I...I'm having a vision!" she whispered. Her eyes half closed and her head jerked back. She shuddered, then hung her head forward. "Seven. Seven. Devon...Shire...Way! Near a...whore house!" She shuddered. "Ah...yes! There! That is where you shall find my orb, in the hands of...the evil. Be ready, be ready to use your orcish strength. Go!" She sagged. "Go..."

I stood, feeling entirely ill at ease. Stepping back, I left the apartment. As twilight gathered, we exchanged looked. Virginia looked as uncomfortable as I, as did Magnus. Sally was her usual implacable self.

"She...seemed to be able to see the future," I said.

"Y-Yes..." Virginia said. Then, tightening her jaw, she frowned. "I didn't like that bit about the orcish strength."

I recalled the fierce, hungry look on the fortune teller's face. Miss Beston did seem to want an attack dog when she saw me. I stroked my mustache. "Lets go," I said. "But lets not try and use any orcish strength unless we have too."

"Innit that how all the stories say fortunes go?" 'Magnus' muttered. "Ya try 'n avoid it an' end up gettin' buggered all the same?"

I nodded grimly.

***

We arrived at 77 Devonshire Way an hour later. I had stopped to purchase three things upon the way. While I wanted a revolver, we had all agreed to avoid violence. And so instead, I had stopped in a Technologists shop. There, I had found a pocket watch – which I had a use for – and a few electrical components to go with a cheap copper ring. However this evening went, I knew that I wanted to experiment with my charged ring, after all.

This part of Tarant was nearer to the docks, filling the air with the thick stink of sewage being pumped into the Hadrian, as well as the noxious odor of the smoke stacks from the factories in the nearly factory district. The electric lights were less common, replaced here and there with oil burning lamps that cast an even more fitful glow. The alleyways were dark as pitch, and the large building we had just walked by was the only place that seemed lively at this time of evening. But considering the sign out front proclaimed it to be Madam Lil's was tinted the tell tale red of a brothel, I figured that we were in the right place after all.

The building next to the whore house (which I admit, I was curious about) was a simple, single story affair with a simple sign hanging from the front, lit by the lamplight spilling from the window: Madame Toussaunde's House of Secrets. I frowned, glancing at Virginia and the others. I rubbed my chin. "I was thinking," I said, slowly. "To ensure that violence is the farthest thing from this building, so we might avoid our dire fate, you should stay out here." I smiled. "Keep the guns far away from me and whoever this Madame Toussaunde is."

Virginia looked uncomfortable, but slowly, she nodded. "If I hear a single sound..."

I smiled. "You'll come running. I know, Virginia." I squeezed her shoulder. Then I stepped up and rapped on the door.

"Enter," a soft, feminine voice said.

The door swung inwards and I saw the flickering oil lamps casting their lights on a plain room. The walls were wood slats, the floor was wood, the back door was simple and unadorned. The center of the chamber had a small circular table. Sitting upon it was a small crystal ball – glowing ever so faintly as a woman caressed it. The woman herself, though, made the rest of the room seem more bare by comparison. To call her lovely would be understatement. In the dim light and the flickering oil lamps, her olive brown skin shone as if it had been polished by a master artisan. Her eyes were dark – brown, maybe even black, and deep as the ocean. Her hair was luxurious black, and long, cascading along her scandalously bare shoulders. She wore a frilly white dress with a low cut front and sheer sleeves, which showed her every graceful curve. Her plush, kissable lips quirked upwards.

"Hello Resh," she said, quietly.

My spine tightened and I closed the door behind me. I pulled the pocket watch I had purchased from the technologist shop and checked – and timing against my thundering heart, I could see that the hand moved erratically. I was in the presence of an intense magickal field. I looked up at the woman, whose eyes glittered slightly.

"You've come," she said. "Seeking a painting. A ring. A crystal orb. You seek many things, Resh..." She licked her lips. "But you don't know what you will find. In the end." She closed her eyes, smiling slightly. "I am Esmeralda Toussaunde. And before we continue, I wish to know...do you stand with me...or with Madam Beston?"

My throat was dry. I gulped. "Madam, I...what exactly is going on here?"

That glittering playfulness, in a single instant, flashed and transformed to focused determination. Her voice became like iron and her finger clenched on the orb that sat before her. "Choose," she said. "Now."

Magick was flaring through this room, I was sure of it. I hated this aspect of magick. Gut instinct and willpower were all well and good for those who followed the arts, but I preferred something predictable and understandable. I was standing at a crossroads, and I knew not what was good and what was evil. But Madame Beston...she had looked at me as an attack dog, without knowing my true name. Or my true past. Esmeralda here? She had called me Resh. But she had smiled, without fear. Without flinching at the name of a terrible bandit. I gulped, then said: "Y-You."

The determination on her face was gone. Esmeralda Toussaunde relaxed in her seat, her chest heaving. She smiled. "Here," she said, holding out the orb. "Bring this to Beston. Then...return here..." She paused, quietly. "And do not stay, Resh." She reached out and took my hand. Her hand was warm. "After giving over the orb, do not stay. Fly here. Please." She smiled. "I can then tell you where the Garringsburg painting is concealed and open the way to...the mines you seek..." Her eyes glowed.

I squeezed her hand, then withdrew quickly.

Just as quickly, I set out for Madam Beston's fortune telling establishment.

Once more, I entered without my companions. I entered with my pocket watch in hand, and I noted that the second hand moved at a steady tick tick tick tick. I snapped the watch shut and felt my certainty return. I smiled at Madam Beston, who was sitting behind the table, looking at me hungrily. She grinned. "Did you get the orb?" she asked.

I smiled, then held out the orb, bouncing it in my palm.

"Hah!" Beston clapped her hands, relaxing in her chair. "I knew you could do it, Mr. Cog. I knew it!" She rubbed her palms together and then frowned as I started to walk slowly through the room, looking about at the various bits of furniture here and there. As I did so, I spoke.

"You thought I could do what, exactly? I mean, you saw the future, of course..." I smiled. "Or did you?"

Beston chuckled. "Well, as we're alone...no." She shook her head. "I tell little old ladies what they want to hear. Sometimes, I speak with a constable about goings on." She said, shaking her head again as, unnoticed by her, I gently nudged open a cabinet. Nothing. But my ideas were settled down and I was rewarded when I paced over to another cabinet and nudged it open to find my revolver, sitting right there beside her purse. I looked at her as she stood from the table.

"And so, I knew you, you greenskin ruffian, you'd be perfect to put that gypsy bitch under the ground," Beston said, her voice thick with triumph. "Did you know that...that cow had the audacity to come to me and to tell me that the first man I told a fortune too would kill me? Me!" She laughed. "And instead, you killed her. Now she'll stop stealing my commissions with her cut rate hackery and-" She stopped. "What?"

I was looking at her, the picture of confused innocence. "Miss Beston," I said. "I didn't kill anyone."

"W-What?" her eyes were wide.

"Miss Beston," I said, holding out the orb, feeling a strange sense of fate growing in me. The ticking sound from my pocket watch had slowed to a shuddering, grinding creak. "Madam Toussaunde sends her regards."

I dropped the orb and Beston caught it, her eyes widening. Quickly, I ducked down and retrieved my pistol. I twirled it and started towards the door. A reddish light filled the room behind me. I could hear Beston's voice rising into a sudden, sharp scream. The scream grew louder and louder as I walked towards the door, the entire room filling with a ruby red light. A shadow was cast upon the wall – a shadow of many bones and claws and twisted limbs. The scream grew higher, as if a violin was being strangled by a madman. I forced myself to continue to walk forward. Then I was at the door, outside, and closing it behind me.

I looked at my friends, who were waiting, looking bored.

"Did...you hear that?" I asked Virginia.

"Hear what?" she asked.

I looked back at Madam Beston's abode.

"Nothing," I said.

***

The door into Esmeralda's abode opened and I entered, feeling worn and uncertain. But seeing the beautiful face of Esmeralda felt like looking upon a balm. She was sitting at the table, her fingers crossed together, her elbows on the table. If she had looked gloating or satisfied or even happy, I might have felt a tingle of unease. Instead, she simply looked as tired as I felt. I walked over to the table and took my seat.

"It's done?" she asked.

I nodded.

"You cannot run from your fate, Resh," she said, quietly. "Not one that is deserved, not one that is unfair, not one that is tragic, not one that is joyous. It always finds you in the end." She looked at me, squarely. "And now, you wish me to tell you where the Garringsburg painting is concealed. Then, you can give it to her, and through her, reach Mr. Bates, and the mines...the mines I have seen..." She paused, then reached out across the table. Her thumb caressed my knuckles. "Resh, I do not know the final destination of your travels. But they are not nearing an end."

I slowly sighed. "I know," I said.

Her voice was quieter still. "Come. Let us foretell the future."

She stood, then turned. She started towards the back room, opening the door as she did so, vanishing into darkness. My brow furrowed and I stood. I supposed, as she no longer had that orb, she had to use some other method. I didn't know any other method for telling the future. But as, until now, I hadn't believed such a thing was possible in the first place, I suppose that some mystery was understandable. I heard a faint rustling noise and then stepped forward, finding that the middle of the corridor was blocked by a slender curtain. Silk rasped under my fingers and I stepped through to find a candle lit room. The walls were dark red and a broad, comfortable looking bed was set in the center of the chamber. Kneeling upon it, her hands placed forward, like an animal in heat, was Esmeralda. Her body was bare. Completely.

"Come..." she whispered, her voice drawing into a long hiss at the end. She arched her spine in a fluid, catlike motion, and I saw her full, dusky brown breasts swaying between her arms. Her nipples were achingly hard, and I could see her thighs spreading, revealing the thick tuft of black pubic hair that concealed her eagerness from me. I walked forward, feeling as if I was in a dream. The air felt thick and heavy, and I swore that I could hear distant whispering voices. A chant, calling me forward. Esmeralda's body shuddered and she spread her legs even wider, panting as she did so. "Come..."

My hands were on my clothing before I knew it. It took every droplet of willpower I had to not simply tear my immensely expensive suit. Instead, I fumbled with buttons as Esmeralda's breath came faster and faster, her body quivering. She looked back and watched over her shoulder, tossing her head to get the hair away from her eyes as my green chest was exposed, then. Then. Then...

She blinked and actually stopped breathing as my pants slipped down. Her jaw hung open in shock as my cock swayed free. I stepped away from my pants, walking around the side of the bed and the fortune teller actually rolled herself onto her side, then onto her back, then sat up, pushing herself up with her arms. Her eyes were fixed on my member and her mouth remained hanging open. Slowly, she forced her mouth closed, then whispered. "R-Resh!"

I grinned. "Y-You didn't foretell that?"

"I...absolutely did not!" Esmeralda squeaked, all sounds of spiritual excitement vanished from her voice, like morning dew burned off by the sun. "E-Even the spirits are intimidated, Resh, gods!" A moment later, she prodded my chest, her cheeks darkening. "Wipe that smile off your face, you brute!" She laughed. "I...I need to call spirits into myself. Those who tell the future are drawn by intense emotions – but it's hard to be lustful when your damn treetrunk is intimidating me." She bit her lower lip. Her poke against my chest had turned into a slow caress, her fingers tracing the lines of my muscle. I smiled down at her.

"Sorry," I rumbled.

"I do not need to be a fortune teller to tell you are not." She prodded my chest again, then whispered. "I...did not know that a half-orc was so..." She paused. "I am trying to find a word that is not, ah, insulting to you, Resh..."

"Rugged?" I grinned. "Handsome?" I leaned forward. "Masculine?"

She shivered as I leaned closer and closer. Her lips opened and she whispered. "Male..." her voice was a husky sound then, desperately eager. My mouth captured hers and I thrust my tongue into her mouth with an eager groan, moaning as I pushed her back onto the bed. There, she sprawled, her body pressing to mine a moment later – as if life had returned to her limbs. Her arms wrapped around my back and her silky smooth legs caressed along my body. My cock nestled against her pubic hair and I felt her mewl against my mouth. I drew my lips away from hers, seeing her pant and gasp. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth for a moment, her eyes looking unfocused as I ground my cock against her sex.