The Spice of Magic Part IV
Fifteenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
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Baedar rapped his knuckles across the door ensconced between subtly-worked heavy metal frames. A moment later the patter of feet moving toward then away from the door signaled his arrival had been noted, as the clank and dull thud of a leaden weight was rolled away from the door, unsealing the other two layers of security around the entrance, one a ward and the other a mechanism.
"Tobyis, am I entering a safe-house, or your home?" He questioned the man as soon as the lead panel had been rolled back into place and locked tightly behind steel bolts set into walls of fused stone. The building exterior hadn't hinted at any windows, either, which was an oddity given most residences in the city made heavy use of crystalline panes, it wasn't exceptional for a man of his standing to have at least one gathering space, letting in natural light in lieu of the common mage lights and lanterns of cold-fire.
"Can never be too careful," his partner muttered. He noticed Baedar peering past his shoulder, exasperatingly shaking his his head as the small girl peering beyond the corner at the strange guest quickly covered their mouth, as if that might make her spying less obvious. "That's my apprentice," he explained, "Who should really be at her lessons right about now...!" They darted away, prompting a snort from Baedar's fellow Investigator.
"Let's head up to my office," they said next. "Going by the look on your face, I'll be needing to crack open the good brandy."
"Yes, that would be helpful," Baedar agreed promptly, since there was really little else to say except that the resources they'd be requisitioning really would be needed instead of merely lending credence to one tempering expectations in matters of danger and excitement.
Most of his work of late he had found was mostly routine reports and changing his own office's filing system during late nights awake at their headquarters, and he expected more than one comment about his own likeness after he spent long enough in the hot southern sun, given how pale one could get spending weeks ensconced in that heavily warded sub-level. "It's not really a matter for light dinner conversation."
"Then we'll skip the meal and head straight to the drinks," Tobyis replied gruffly.
***
Neither man was one to waste much time on little niceties like small talk, so after pouring no more than a few drinks from a crystal bottle of Tyroshi pear brandy, the two had spread a set of navigational charts and a ledger filled with row upon row of numbers, ships and chartered crews, supplies necessary for a mage to work their craft and to survive in hostile environs. "That girl..." Baedar glanced up at his... co-worker, he supposed. The two hadn't know each other for very long, in fact the most personal detail he even knew of the other man was that he had been married, once.
That there was no explanation for a spouse's absence paradoxically explained more than enough. It was all too common a story in their line of work, a common thread of sentiment perhaps. Either a great sense of duty or a great loss could make one fertile ground for recruitment to the Inquisition, though that alone wasn't enough. The spool unwound which bound one to a greater whole was absolutely essential, Baedar did not deny, but a will even great more so. To be a mage is to know ambition, yet to be an Inquisitor was to sacrifice upon the same altar. So only a vision achieved through the ruination of an empire's foes might one regularly approach that altar, knife in hand.
Tobyis' face was shadowed over in flickering mage light, before he serenely looked up. "She's the one, aye. All over a couple idle pen-strokes..."
Baedar grinned wryly. "Come now, do you believe for a moment any stroke of the pen from the King's own hand is anything but deliberate? I heard you had to harass people across three departments and two other Bureaus to learn even that much."
The other mage threw back his head, though the laugh was more of a harsh bark than an expression of true mirth. "No, you're right at that. She won't appreciate the 'good fortune' she's been graced with. Even men like the Dragon King can stomp on the little people scurrying around by being generous, I suppose." His face was marred briefly by an angry scowl. "Whatever hidden potential in her will either burn out like embers in the dark, or burn hard and fast. You know they wanted her tossed into a training course with those other girls, 'Lady Alicent' and the Fairwind?" He scoffed. "Ward my tanned-arse. That's a highborn lass."
"Careful," Baedar murmurred. "You're not picky about making enemies around the office, Tobyis, but you don't want to rustle the bushes outside a Companion's window." He pointed to a leather binder still open between the two, with images captured by sorcery and impressed with arcane fire. "The Hells are those?
Tobyis slammed a meaty paw down upon it, a slashing motion sending it toward an open drawer in his desk. "Nothing." Baedar wondered if he had been hitting the bottle even earlier, absurd as it was all the sorcerer could think at that rough dismissal was something along the lines of "he's getting sloppy", but then he had expected better from a man who's trade was secrets.
"Tobyis..." Baedar sat up straighter. "Was that..." Those were restricted files. Baedar knew on sight that was Inquisitor's work, nothing for the likes of them to be getting mixed up in. "Mind Eaters aren't our bailiwick, goodman!"
"The hell they aren't, we're going south, ain't we? Like as not we'll need to be prepared for anything, and I know for fact they've got their stink on those isles and that jungle." Tobyis bared his teeth, stabbing a finger towards him across the desk. "Remember? 'Knowledge is power, guard it well'. That's what they said when they brought you in, wasn't it? Nothing less than the certainty of the dead walking from their graves and fiends dancing in the moonlight where honest men dare not step out their own doors anywhere else in the world but Sorcerer's Deep, and we've not dragons enough to guard every city, much less sweltering haunted ones."
"If you're joining this expedition to pursue a grudge," Baedar began, though cut himself off. "No, let's back up. What was that? Tell me true."
"It was before your time... when Damphair still ruled here," Tobyis replied eventually, anger dying away in his eyes and sinking heavily back into his chair. "Back when sometimes they would take people away and they'd never be seen again, not return changed but just gone forever." He shook his head wearily. "I... she," he trailed off, wearily.
"They took..." Baedar began, hesitating, because he still wasn't sure just what he'd walked into there, weighing the risk of pressing the other mage on this and his own duty to pursue the truth.
"No... not then, it was the Fire that claimed her." Ah. That explained much. "What I saw when it was given to the Trees, I'll never forget. I saw fear through the eyes of madness, Baedar." Blue eyes caught his own gaze, the deepest blue Baedar had ever seen stared out a thousand yards into the distance, sunken eyes that had seen horrors beyond the ken of man and revealed little more than the lie men tell themselves when they wish to be brave but are terrified to face reality. "They're afraid, but it isn't of knives or the baying shouts from the mob. What could make a monster afraid, if not us getting our own pound of flesh out of them? What is worse, Baedar, that there are monsters in this world, or that there are things even monsters fear out there, trailing in their wake, sight unseen?"
He had wondered what would drive a man who looked more natural pulling down sails on the deck of a ship or hauling cargo to port was doing in Inquisitor's garb, or occasionally the graduate robes of a Scholarum mage. Good pay could be had almost anywhere in the Dragon's realm, doing all manner of things, but only vengeance bordering on madness could compel so unsuited a hand toward mastering the arcane with naught but pen and page. He wondered what the man had done in the past, was he a quartermaster for the Golden Company? Did he serve alongside the likes of Lord Torchwood in the past? Perhaps a former Maester who had sold their meager skills as a pirate might prefer over a barber, who might as well just be a butcher turning their knives toward healing.
What other evils had they seen, that a glimpse of some horrid truth had finally driven him to purpose like a man possessed? For every word of praise for the mage's methodical approach to problems, the same competence that had seen them scooped up by the Inquisition, there were many more mutterings upon his manner and his reticence to share the font of that same insight. Both were common enough in the Inquisition, but rarely were the two so married in one person that they become an impediment to working with one another.
Whatever the man had seen that fateful night when a Deep One had been bled before white roots, Baedar hoped deeply they would not encounter it in the depths of Sothoryos.
There was upholding oaths, a chance of death for duty, and then there were also fates far worse.
It was only later that night as he returned to his home in the city that he realized, perhaps the only man Tobyis trusted more than himself was Baedar, enough to pull them back from the edge when the time came to stake not only one's own life, but those they held a responsibility toward.
The man didn't want me going in unaware of how he might react to their
influence, he realized.
He didn't know what to think of that. Not at all.