Chapter 5: Ch: 4 Old Boy’s Club

Ch: 4 Old Boy's Club

 

Sure enough, Otho was lounging by a tall gate of iron spears with gilt tips gleaming in the sun. It was set in an ivy covered wall four feet high, barely an impediment to entry.

 

Gary breezed past Otho with a wave and strolled down the broad path to an impressive portico that suffered from being attached to an uninteresting, blocky building. Only the ivy and flowering vines climbing the towers and walls preserved the place’s dignity.

 

Otho and Liam had both followed Gary inside and were now standing together a short way off, watching him intently and sharing a paper sack of something crunchy that Liam had collected from a stall on the way.

 

Gary’s stomach sank, as he realized that things might not go to plan. Those two clowns were expecting something to pop off, so Gary turned his gift to ‘more interesting’ and leaned casually on the reception desk, making eye contact with the clerk.

 

She was very pretty, in a sassy librarian kind of way, but gave Gary a look that emptied some of the wind from his sails. 

She had noticed Otho and Liam standing nearby and was not really interested in anything he had to say.

 

At first Gary thought it was some trick of Otho’s, but realized she was sneaking glances at Liam from behind her eyelashes.

 

‘Things might just go my way’ Gary thought, before dialing his gift up a little and gently beginning to drum on the counter.

 

“Hello,” He greeted in a singsong tone. “I would like to see Mr Amicus Fawn, if he is available, please.” Gary kept to the beat, not quite chanting his words but giving them a touch of subtle flow. “My Good friends, priest Otho and Liam, can vouch for me, and I do have a delivery for master Fawn.”

 

Neither Liam or Otho seemed put out at being brought into his plan. If anything they were munching more excitedly and whispering. 

 

That was a bad sign. The clerk was now fully on board, sensing the mood from Liam and Otho, whom Gary assumed she knew. 

She had abandoned her desk and they were now in a tight group chatting in an animated manner. 

Except Liam, who suddenly looked as though he might explode, vomit, or run away at any moment.

 

He heard Zygnos’ name a few times and the woman was bustling away in short order, waving shyly at Liam as she left. Liam for his part, tried to turn pale, flush bright red and wave back at the same time. 

 

He did none of them well, he was a tremulous blotchy mess, barely keeping it together. ‘Ohh yes, Liam is on the hook.’ Gary thought with glee.

 

Sashaying down the hall, she was a thing to see. A classical beauty with brown ringlets and cafe au lait skin, Gary noticed Liam was laser focused on her walk. Otho noticed, and noticed that Gary noticed. The only one not involved in all this noticing was Liam… which made Gary wonder if they were all noticing something he had not noticed…

 

While he pondered the nature of perception and social cues, a crowd began to gather in the spacious atrium.

 

They were clothed in all colors and designs, but robes seemed to predominate. They trickled in from the stairs at either side and gathered on the mezzanine above as well, leaning casually over the rail for a better view. Something was definitely up. 

 

Shortly, the crowd stirred, and the clerk returned, seating herself back at the desk with a satisfied smile. 

She gave the air of someone who’s ticket just got bumped to first class, or found a valuable treasure on the cheap.

 

The crowd kept a wide distance from the desk, watching breathlessly as a figure appeared on the stairway. 

He was huge, really huge. Gary stood six two and was sturdily built, but this guy looked like a bear in a human suit.

He had a tuft of curly red hair and beard that exploded from the collar of his robe like a firework, his arms were hairy and massive. He loomed over Gary, despite stopping a few feet away, he had to be at least seven feet.

 

“You are looking for Amicus Fawn?” He rumbled. 

Gary’s throat was getting a little dry, but he croaked out gamely. “Zygnos Matteus says suck it loser.” A quiet susurrus began as those closer to the action narrated for the less fortunate. 

 

“What was that, boy?” The giant rumbled.

 

Annoyed now, Gary barked out. “Zygnos Matteus says, SUCK IT LOSER!” As he thumped the hefty manuscript onto the desk. 

The man seemed to get even larger, even redder, before turning around and asking meekly; “How was that Master Fawn?”

 

“Very nice Apprentice Spire, please return to your studies.” The voice was as thin and reedy as the ginger was massive. 

Amicus Fawn turned out to be a very dark skinned man with no hair at all and twinkling eyes that danced over the crowd in amusement. Otho was tall and thin, this man was beyond skeletal. He looked like a handsome ebony coat rack draped in an elaborate robe of shining blue silk, embroidered with stars of silver.

 

He snapped his fingers imperiously at the watching crowd, who seemed to be settling up bets among themselves. “Scatter you diletants! Off to your studies you indolent bookworms! Flutter away like intellectual mayflies!”

 

The watchers evaporated like mist under a noonday sun, leaving the receptionist (who seemed to have several small pouches of coins scattered across her desk now), Otho and Liam with himself and the presumed Amicus.

 

“If You are Amicus Fawn, this manuscript is for you, and suck it loser.” Gary deadpanned, now feeling like he was the butt of a very elaborate joke. 

“That should conclude all my debts in this town.” He said, turning to address them all. “Madam, Gentlemen, good day.” With that, he spun crisply on his heel and walked away, spine rigid and seething with fury.

 

Otho called out “Gary, don’t yo…”

 

“I said good day, sir.” Gary barked, marching on.

 

He was in the market district, haggling over a basket of dried meat with a caravan provisioner when Liam tracked him down. Gary ignored him until his bargain was sealed, enjoying putting the older man on the back foot, even in a small way.

 

Gary made the smoked beef vanish and looked at Liam. “I believe we are done.” He said shortly, turning to go. 

“Otho and Amicus want to tell you what this is all about Gary, or rather you are the key to whatever it was that mad old Zygnos was doing in the wastelands.” Liam said quietly. “I know nothing, but Otho and Amicus are good, if eccentric men, who honestly mean to aid you in whatever is happening.”

 

Gary cut a side eye at him. “And that pantomime at the college?” 

 

Liam sighed with exhaustion. “The college is a strange place, only nobles and the scions of the wealthy learn to read, so only they learn ritual magic. It seems to be more of a club for wealthy eccentrics than a place of deep wisdom. The whole city knows to avoid getting tangled up with them or risk humiliation or confusion.”

“They never seem to cause any harm though. Well, they did accidentally turn master smith Theoseph bright orange for a few weeks last winter… But he is old enough to have known better.” 

A dreamy look crossed Liam’s face. “My work takes me there occasionally, when arranging apprenticeships or scholarships… I like it there, it's calming in the lobby…”

 

Gary snapped his fingers rudely in the man’s face. “I like you Liam, you are good people, I think Otho is too, but if he won’t let me in on the joke, I can’t laugh along.” 

“If you cats can stop batting my mouse ass around for a while, maybe I can get in on whatever they have up their no-sleeves.”

 

Liam cocked his head to the side briefly and seemed to be trying to connect the dots. “I know all of those words Gary, do you? Because that was hard to follow.” 

He waited patiently for a few heartbeats, before saying loudly; “Gary, I feel like you have an accent that I cannot hear. Is your brain healthy? Should we take you to the temple of Dana?”

 

Gary Ignored his questions and asked one of his own. “Have you ever been to another town, Liam?” 

“No, the nearest large town is Port Fallon, a week’s march west. No one travels without a need, roaming monsters are common in the wilds.” 

Gary nodded. “Do you think Wheatford is a major city?” He asked, chasing that loose thread.

Liam thought for a bit. “I suppose it is, we have a population of almost seventy thousand!” 

 

Gary nodded, “Ok, that clears that up, thanks Liam. I will be staying in town for at least a few days to get stocked up and find a map and a library. I’m open to talking with them, but on my terms. They can find me, I'm sure. See you around.”

“You can’t make it on your own, Gary, no one can. Master Otho always says ‘A fine meal eaten in silence, is like music played to an empty room’.”

 

That brought Gary to a halt. “My grandfather said much the same.” He whispered, lost in memory like an old man.

 

“Ok I have a place outside town, Otho knows how to find it I guess, tell him you’ll see a faded sign by the side of the road, look for the tin roof, rusted. Just like that. Ok?”

 

Liam looked puzzled. “Please,” Gary asked, “repeat that last part back.” they ran through the end once more and Liam had it. 

“You’ll see a faded sign by the side of the road, look for the tin roof rusted” 

Gary clapped him on the shoulder “just that way!” See you Liam, I have some errands in the… carpenter’s ward I guess you call it. When Otho and Amicus come to see me, come with. You will find out everything eventually anyway.” Liam sighed as Gary slipped into the crowd and vanished.

 

An hour later, as afternoon and evening were making polite greetings, Liam found Gary in a smith’s shop discussing a huge pile of materiel and a portable campaign forge. He was running his hands over a number of spools of silvery wire.

 

“Made from braided Silver Grass,” The smith was saying. “My youngest boy, Tallum has a knack for gears and such, but my daughter Shai… Finest wire puller of my lifetime if I do say, which I do, young master… she’s of marriage age lad.”

 

“I am sure she’s lovely Smith Harlan, but my plans are rather open ended right now.” Gary backpedaled wildly.

 

Liam swooped in with smooth familiarity. “Master Harlan, you know that Adventurer apprentices can't make marriage contracts.” 

“Adventurer? Lad said he was a craftsman. What's at play here?” The smith’s face closed like a fist, pinched with suspicion. 

Gary clutched the spools tighter and whispered to his savior/interloper; “I need this stuff Liam, don’t screw me here. Or I might go chat up that clerk lady at the college… She seemed nice.” 

 

Liam looked pale for a moment then rounded on the smith. “My ward has an appointment with a member of the clergy, so don't let me interrupt, Gary, Otho will see you tonight. Master Harlan, good evening.''

 

While Liam quick marched away, he puzzled over the tight feeling in his chest and unreasonable anger with Gary.

 

Gary, for his part concluded, his deal after Liam’s clumsy name dropping, and trotted up the road to summon his house. Now with a rusty tin roof and a faded sign in english reading exactly what one would expect from a Love Shack. 

 

No harm poking a little fun at himself at the same time, nor was there a stupid brown roof. 

He settled in with his flute and new forest friends to wait. Now to see if he was right.

 

He was not right, the three men appeared in his impromptu front yard looking bewildered. He had hoped to trigger a reaction, if by chance Z was wrong and there were others around in his position.

 

Liam and Amicus were both certain there had previously  been no battered metal shack here, spotted with rust and bearing a faded board with bold, incomprehensible writing.

 

Otho had suspected a contract item house, but this one was completely different from the elegant and refined home the bleeding letcher had described and he had seen, if briefly. The sign was absolute gibberish, in no language or alphabet he had ever seen.

 

Gary was sitting on the porch of the decrepit house, looking disappointed as they approached. Otho was too polite to ask if he had a domicile dysfunction. 

That did not stop him from making internal jokes about disappointing erections… He drew out his ever present notebook and began jotting down lines.

 

“Well that would have been too easy I suppose, Is this everybody?” He asked. The small group looked around. “Were you expecting anyone else?” Otho asked.

 

“Well then who is that?” Gary asked, pointing to the empty road, using a feeble and obvious distraction technique. 

They peered down the lane, looking for a person that did not exist for a moment. When they turned back, the high tiled roof gleamed a cheery red. 

 

The three men were standing just beyond the glow of the paper lanterns festooning the now festively lit, stone walled home. 

 

Liam goggled openly, Otho grinned like a kid with a new toy and Amicus pretended he had seen everything before, while hurriedly noting every detail. Gary smiled smugly, and opened the door to wave them inside.

 

He had picked up a few homey touches in town, since most of his conjured items were basic at best. Only very simple or very familiar items were worth conjuring. Summoned guitar experiments had been as unsatisfying as the sandwich and less effective than the soap.

 

Now a tapestry of cheerful fruit trees in blossom graced the sitting room, and a potted jasmine perfumed the space. A pot of tea and some cookies sat on a low tea table among the couches. “Shoes off please gentlemen, you will find slippers under the benches if you wish.”

 

Soon they were seated and pouring tea in awkward silence. After a time Amicus spoke, his reedy voice filling the room. “I suppose it falls on me to begin.”

 

“Zygnos and I met in the College Arcanum…” As the younger men shifted in their seats, he held up a mollifying hand. “this context matters boys, be still.”

 

He continued, looking right at Gary, “We were friends, we were lovers too for a time, I knew all his secrets save this last.” His eyes on Gary sharpened, and then swept to the others in the room.

 

“Every one of us in this room, through age or hard lessons, should well know that accidents of birth, like ancestry, wealth and geography are no measure of a man, and the conditions under which a person enters this world has no bearing on their worth.”

 

Gary did not miss that emphasis on ‘enters this world’. As the others nodded their agreement, Amicus turned to Gary. “Now you have a decision to make, young man.”

 

Gary stalled for time. “So what is the last secret Zygnos had?” 

Amicus shook his head sadly. “Only his last apprentice knows. So we should be asking you.”

 

“What makes you think I know anything?” Gary asked, feeling trapped. 

Amicus looked around and turned to Otho. “Have you ever seen anything like this house in your long life?” 

“Never.”

“Liam? You are more lost than any of us aren't you?” 

“Uhhh… yeah” 

Amicus grinned. “See Gary? You have the answers, but don't know the questions. Zygnos’ last apprentice is also his final prank.”

 

Gary dropped his head into his hands in defeat. “I guess I was born in another world and got sucked into this one by accident.” Gary mumbled quickly.

 

A long quiet hung in the air, until Liam softly asked; “Is he daft?”

 

Gary muttered furiously and growled at them. “I woke up in a meadow earlier this week, naked and covered in snot. I found Pockets! in my legs, I can whistle down the birds to my magic house that I carry up my ass and I make magic flutes. There, you are all caught up.” He dropped Z’s red notebook on the table and sat back to see what happened.

 

Amicus picked it up, flipped through and handed it to Otho, who gave up quickly, Liam made only the most cursory glance.

 

“Ohh… yeah, you can’t read that… sorry.” Gary made a mental effort and three copies of the book appeared right under the original, as though they had been there all along.

 

“Amicus, could you read it aloud, so I can follow along?” Otho asked with a wink to Liam. “I seem to have forgotten my spectacles.”

#

“Naked gravedigger?” Liam asked at the end. 

Otho sighed. “That was your takeaway from that remarkable booklet?”

 

Gary snorted “That was the part that made the most sense to me too Liam.” Gary leaned back to stare at the ceiling, noticing it was painted with a lifelike summer sky. “Z seems like he was a weird dude. None of this is any clearer to me.”

 

Amicus and Otho both looked up from the notepads they were furiously cribbing Z’s notebook into in english and common.

 

“Will you two nerds stop for a minute and do your jobs?” Gary fumed. 

“We are doing our job as “nerds” I think.” Otho looked to Amicus who nodded wisely.

 

“That was how Z used the term, he defined it as a bookworm, overly studious, connoting physical incompetence.” 

Otho nodded along, still scribbling madly. “Yes yes, an idiomatic expression that failed to be translated by his gift for some reason.”

 

“I studied this in Zygnos for several years before he twigged to what I was doing, I never thought to find another specimen…” 

Gary jerked his thumb at the kitchen and asked Liam; “While these two figure out who gets to vivisect my brain, want the nickel tour?”

“I don’t know what anyone is talking about tonight, or what a nickel is… so yes?”

 

Gary led him through the house, ending with a change of shoes and into the workshop. 

The bathroom and hotspring left Liam questioning his whole bathing regimen, while the workshop was just a puzzle. 

 

Mysterious iron pillars and altars stood on one wall, by a workbench and a neatly set up travel forge. Racks held lumber, ingots and less identifiable items all around, the place smelled of hot sawdust and beeswax more than anything else. It bore little resemblance to any workshop he had seen.

 

“So these are woodcrafters tools where you come from?” He asked, holding a palm router in the exact way you should never hold a palm router.

 

Gary plucked it away carefully, replying; “Yes, they are sharp and unpredictable.” while guiding him away from the sanding station.

“Let's go up and see if Poindexter and Dweebus have finished drawing naked pictures of each other.”

 

Liam was mildly shocked by the casual slander directed at venerable elders of the community, then shrugged. “They really are insufferable,” He agreed.

 

They were still comparing notes and debating linguistics, so Gary clapped his hands loudly three times and called; “It's past my bedtime gentlemen, feel free to take your toys and go home or crash in an empty room down the hall. If you want to see what I did to make that flute I will be here working most of the day. Come early, the good seats fill up fast. I’m off to bathe and bed.”

 

They made their excuses and went off into the night, talking animatedly on the short walk to town, while Gary collapsed in the bath thinking about tomorrow.

 

He woke early, shortly before the first distant bell from the town. He had quickly adapted to the omnipresent chimes. 

 

It now seemed the only rational way to keep time. Those thoughts occupied him while dressing and preparing breakfast. He had eggs, sausages, bacon, hearty brown bread and snowy white loaves with a basket of fruit near overflowing.

 

“Huh, I expected Otho to be here at least” he mumbled around a piece of toast slathered in egg yolk.

 

Later, with breakfast stowed, he went down to get to work, pausing for a moment to make a silk bellpull appear outside the door. The resulting chime should be audible all through the house and garden.

 

It was not long after he started in earnest, that Gary began to notice subtle differences. His tools cut straight lines straighter, eased edges more gently, while smoothing smoother than he had ever managed.

 

Gary felt his artisan gift, not guiding him, but freeing him from the fear of a slip up. Releasing his hesitation and doubt, Gary tumbled down a rabbit hole.

 

When he heard the bell it had been hours at least. Gary stumbled upstairs in a daze, the yellow, blue and green bars in the corner of his vision slowly blinking and nearly empty. He was nearly ankle deep in sawdust and fragrant curls of shaved wood. A cloud of particles followed him up the stairs, tracking it into the foyer.

 

He opened the door, blinking in the afternoon sun, Amicus and Otho were both there, looking put out. “Sorry, how long have you been ringing?”

 

“Nearly five minutes young man.” Otho huffed. Relieved, he invited both inside and led them down to the workshop. 

Gary started to vacuum up the drifting mounds that had escaped his shop’s dust collection system, while explaining some of the tools. 

 

Neither seemed too interested in his tools and techniques, but they did focus on the partially completed guitar and mandolin on the workbench.

 

Otho waved a tuning fork over them, peered through a lens set in a twisted silver ring and tapped with a wand of silver. Amicus whispered a quiet chant and peered through the frame of his outstretched hands for a long minute. “Yes?” Amicus asked. 

“Yes.” Otho answered. They turned on him as one. Otho asked; “When will they be finished?”

 

“Gary pondered briefly. “Day after tomorrow I think.” he nodded, “Yeah, day after tomorrow. I expected you guys to show up in the morning to watch me work.” 

They both looked at him as though he were an infant that had just soiled himself.

 

“Yesterday we received a manuscript of tremendous value, and a notebook containing a heretofore unknown written language with its translation…” Amicus said patiently.

 

Otho added in; “We had grown up things to do, go back to making pretty noisemakers now boy, we will return when we are able.” with a tone so condescending and patronizing that he suddenly felt five years old with his fingers in the cookie jar.

 

The old fart’s saucy grin cut the mood and the two codgers floated away down the road talking vigorously.

 

It was early afternoon, the third bell still a liquid shimmer in his ears, Gary was too spent to get back to work and it was early, so he decided to bathe and hit the town to check out the high end shops near the temple district.

 

‘Maybe there's a music shop?’ He mused in the bath, remembering the banjo shamisen thing that Otho had pulled from his robes.  That thing had whispered, chimed and rung out like a bell at different times, sweetly delicate and percussive in turns. He would love to get one of those on his workbench, even if he had to buy one.

 

Gary stopped at the second hand stall he had visited the morning before and browsed the wares with a less focused eye. The items on display were small household goods mostly. He recognized many from swap meets and street fairs, the non-electric versions of familiar appliances, mostly meat grinders, grain mills and a cider press.

 

Nothing he needed at the moment or could not conjure in his house, though he was considering learning how to cook. Stew was his big move in the kitchen, and he was tired of getting the meat sweats. He made a mental note to ask Liam about that, since he had decided to stay in town for now.

 

Gary’s bag of bits was still pretty plump and he had three large copper marks before he had to start breaking bronze coins. He stopped at a prosperous looking tailor’s shop near the gate to get measured and place an order for a wardrobe of his own, an indulgence but he could afford it. That was an odd feeling that he was getting used to very quickly.

You are reading story In the Key of Ether at novel35.com

 

He questioned the tailor’s lead apprentice, a young woman named Jennah who took him in hand with the deft confidence of a skilled artisan. While she was taking his measurements, he asked her about local music and where to buy instruments. 

“Up in the high street you might find something, the lords and clergy shop there, it's very fancy.” She whispered this last, and added with a wink; “You will make a better impression if you wait till we finish your clothes…”

 

She knew second hand when she saw it, she was rather pretty too, Gary was noticing that a lot. The people seemed on average, pretty good looking. No scars, missing limbs, illness… Everyone seemed healthy, very healthy. Even the pets and livestock had been vigorous and lively.

 

“We hardly ever see new people in town,” She continued. “My sister Trelawney, says you play the flute and taught the kids in the market to dance yesterday. Are you with the temple of Joy?” 

Jennah’s smile revealed dimples that could almost be considered a deformity, if They were not so crushingly adorable. “Trelawney loves music, she dances and sings so prettily, I think you should meet her…”

 

This was a new experience for Gary, but he recognized the signs of a setup coming. Relationships in this town seemed to be a community project, one that was in need of fresh blood. Gary was new, spending money and walking with Otho in the streets, that made him date bait for the first time in his young life. He was completely unprepared to face this peril again, but the girl was vicious.

 

“No, just a traveler, I uhh, lost my luggage.” Gary lied weakly. She was very pretty, maybe a year older than him, nineteen at most and she smelled of lavender and sunshine. A dangerous combination for a seventeen year old, with hormones and anxiety boiling just under the surface.

 

She picked up on his nervousness, wielding it as a weapon in subtle ways. A light brush of his arm here, passing just a bit too close there. Before he knew it, Gary had paid just a bit more than he suspected he should have.

 

Somehow he had also been leveraged into promising to accompany her younger sister to the festival of Healer in three days. All of his evasions and stalling tactics had been deflected or shattered by her masterful use of those formidable charms.

 

Back on the street Gary shook off the girl’s lingering perfume and cleared his head. He was definitely not ghosting that girl’s sister, that would be signing his own social death warrant. 

Resigned to becoming at least a walk-on player in the Jakob, Trelawny, Gunnar drama, he aimed his boots at the high street.

 

He wasn't dressed for it, but he also had zero interest in making impressions. He turned ‘noticemenot’ up higher and joined the loose collection of shoppers and strollers without fanfare. His questions at the second hand stall and tailor’s had turned up no clues, so he entered the first likely looking shop and snooped around.

 

There was a sign over the door that read;

 Banning’s Emporium, fine pre loved goods.

Over three brass orbs, the symbol for pawnbrokers and second hand shops here as well as on earth.

 

Inside he found much of what the stall in the market had, but at higher prices. No instruments to be seen, but he found some clothes that fit well and were a bit more upmarket. 

He traded a bronze half mark for a pair of dark green linen pants with a woven leather belt and shiny bronze buckle, two shirts of dull green silk and a brown silk vest embroidered with tiny ravens at the collar. 

 

He topped it with a dark green felt hat that was very riverboat gambler meets three musketeers. The hat had bone disks and bright beads sewn to the brown ribbon band and a feather of sky blue that was just long enough to reach over his shoulder, too good to pass up.

 

The merchant, Banning, “Third generation shopkeeper” he proudly announced, only had one instrument, a badly damaged shamisen not unlike Otho’s, in the way that a limousine is not unlike a rusted out cargo van. The frets were bronze and very green with verdigris, it had spread to the fretboard as well, staining it unpleasantly. 

The body was simple, a rounded square and had been topped with skin, now hanging in tattered, stained remnants. The bridge was nowhere to be found and the strings of course, had rotted in an age gone by.

 

Gary had to have it. As a child he and grandpa had haunted swap meets and flea markets, “adopting” musical instruments as grandpa called it. He had developed grandpa’s knack for spotting the unloved forgotten treasures hidden among the sad recyclables and kindling most vendors displayed. In his time alone, he had come to feel almost a kinship with them, seeing a reflection of his own life.

 

Gary bought it for a few copper bits and almost danced out of the shop headed for Mr Banning’s recommended next stop. 

 

Three streets over and around a corner in a pleasant cul de sac was “Curiosities” over the familiar triple orbs, these painted in fading yellow. Inside it was almost what he was looking for. 

A few drums hung from the rafters, painted in wild colors, but they were dusty, skins sagging or torn and cracks marred most of the bodies. 

A harpsichord in the corner was interesting, but too big to manage, and looked pricey. A few unfamiliar orchestral instruments lurked here and there among the furniture and housewares.

 

 Gary briefly pondered if that rug in the corner would bring his whole living room together and dismissed it, he could conjure one easily.

 

That was when he spotted a box in the corner, it had the shape and size he would have expected. It was black, three feet wide and high, with strap handles on the sides. The front was set with a loose grill of rattan. Behind the grill was a cluster of silvery disks, inscribed with words that almost made sense around the edge of each. One large disk, taking up most of the space, with a smaller one filling each corner.

 

“What is this?” Gary asked the sleepy merchant, a portly, balding man who still somehow looked healthy. “That? Sound amplifier, an old one. It works but it's a mana hog, nobody can run it long. We rent it out for festivals sometimes, always gives me a headache when I have to use it.”

 

“where did it come from?” Gary asked, really curious now. “Don’t know really, my grandmother bought it from a traveling circus when I was just a lad.”

 

Like all musicians he looked far, far more than he bought, but this thing he would remember. “Rental you say… and you run the thing when someone rents it?” “Aye, some of the clergy have used it themselves, but mostly I do it, only a few times a year.”

 

A drawer near the top of the box held a wrist sized silver cuff and a number of silver disks, some with pin backs, to be worn, and some with clamps or clips to attach to instruments, presumably. Each inscribed with the markings on the disks, in miniature. “Good to know” Gary said after touching the items and getting their info;

 

Harmonium: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

 

Harmonium Cuff: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

 

Harmonium Satellite: enchanted/etheric item, Iron Rank

 

Gary bought the rug, he wanted to stay on Mr Farganan’s (“No relation” the shopkeeper insisted) good side. He paid a copper bit for the rug and an iron to have it delivered to his room at the orphanage, no sense starting rumors about houses in the woods. 

Farganan suggested a store across town run by his cousin’s daughter “A lovely girl, about your age…” 

Letting slip he was staying on the Adventurer’s compound had slowed the merchant down a little, but he smelled money like a bloodhound and Gary guessed he had tallied up the cost of his clothes and come to a figure he liked. 

Or at least liked enough to try and set him up with a cousin’s daughter anyway. 

 

Gary deftly escaped with vague “I will be sure to do that” and “That seems like a good idea” Farganan felt like a fumbling amateur, where Jennah was a predator through and through.

 

Gary cut back through the carpenter’s ward for a few last minute purchases, then to the tanner’s yard for some glue and bones. He had read about the stink of tanneries in books… and it was bad, but he felt like some magic was at work here.

 

It was not nearly gross enough, and no flies or other vermin were in view. In the center of the yard, grew an enormous tree with broad frond-like leaves. Around its massive barrel trunk was a silver ring inscribed with more of the words that did not quite add up. From the tree, a fresh cool wind constantly blew, scented with a minty herbal aroma. 

A magic stink tree, of all things, he could feel a subtle draw from the tree, it was almost as though it was tugging at his shirt cuff to get his attention.

 

As he reached out to touch the ring, a man’s voice called out “Don’t touch it lad, tree is hungry, might drain you dry and put you to sleep for a solid day. Wait for a priest to come fill it.”

 

Gary learned a lot that afternoon, working in a tannery is apparently not intellectually stimulating, or enticing to casual visitors. It also left a lot of free time available as well. He got a tour, demonstration and even tried his hand at scraping hides for a few minutes.

 

You have gained skill in tanning, Congratulations.

 

Good to know indeed! Gary was excited, not for tanner skills, but that a craft could be learned so quickly. He knew in the same way he understood his gifts, that he was novice tanner at best, and could not produce high quality leathers and hides reliably without practicing those skills extensively. Though he felt some synergy with his experience working on banjos and drums, a little crossover there.

 

Back home with his loot, he locked the door and went right into the workshop.

 

The tanner’s wife had appeared with her two daughters near his age. Twin raven haired beauties, with green eyes that flashed angrily at him, as though this was his idea.

 

He had toyed with the idea of claiming to be the much rumored Gunnar’s lover. That would be an act of cowardly desperation though, and Gary was a man of honor... So he turned ‘noticemenot’ up to eleven and ran like his pants were on fire.

 

“I can find another tanner, or pay someone else to buy for me.” Gary rationalized, as he sprinted down the late evening streets. Passersby looked for the running footsteps, then became bored and looked away. He was getting a lot of use out of his gifts.

 

Gary was exhausted, but the blue and green bars in the corner of his eye were both full, the yellow was at three quarters and the red one was full. “If there’s gas in the tank, drive.” His Grandfather had always said, whether about woodworking, practice or performance.

 

He got to work, quickly gluing up his instruments on frames conjured to hold them and with clamps plucked from thin air. He had fitted them both together once with conjured glue to test the fit and joinery. He had been pleased with the results, but the glue available in the carpenters quarter was not pure enough for him. 

This was the good stuff, made from fish skin. Gary was glad for the tanner’s stink magic, because on earth this stuff smelled awful. 

He took his new old shamisen out and laid it on the bench for tomorrow, leaving his other projects to cure overnight. The tanner had promised that was all that was required for his special glue.

In the bath Gary watched the stars and thought about how quiet his house was. ‘Maybe I should get a dog…’ He thought, remembering the pets in the orchard. ‘I wonder if Trelawney is as hot as Jennah…’

He would find out in two days.

 

Tomorrow his instruments would be ready to begin finishing… he enjoyed that play on words for a moment. Day after tomorrow and his clothes would be delivered to the orphanage. He barely made it to bed before passing out, the yellow bar slowly blinking.

 

In the morning he was hungry again, so damn hungry, he demolished the leftovers from yesterday and banished the dishes, still looking for more. 

Grumbling, he went to the shop, getting out the oils and waxes he had bought from the carpenter. They were all fine quality, but nothing special, the last jar was lacquer from an alchemist at the college. He promised wonders, and the sample Gary had tried in the shop had delivered.

 

By noon he was ravenous and everything was hanging to cure, the shamisen was stripped bare and cleaned up, ready for a new skin. He trotted out in common clothes to hit the stalls at the market, wishing he was closer to town.

 

His house had already drawn the attention of passers by, to the point he had banished the bell pull and made the poisonous vines grow again. That was a problem that needed solving.

 

He used ‘noticemenot’ to prevent anyone from associating him with the mysterious house, but Otho and Amicus’ names were being bandied about. Gary resolved to ask about a solution. Maybe a vacant lot in town and some gaslighting of the locals, they seemed to expect weird things from the college.

 

Gary hadn't finished highschool, but he was going to get into that crazy college and learn the secrets of this world, because, damn it, magic was cool as hell.

 

Gary terrorized the food stalls for a few minutes and dodged another set up attempt. 

The shawarma vendor may have been hairy and short, but his daughter who; “Just happened to be working in the stall today…” was a beauty, with long ringlets of chocolate brown and graceful curves. A beauty who was not having any of her father’s meddling.

 

Waving a tzatziki covered spoon like a tangy baton, she conducted a master class in parental discord. It was a sight to behold, she passive aggressively nitpicked the poor man nearly to death right there in his own stall.

 

No hint of unpleasantness tainted her voice or expression, but her displeasure was there for all to see. Every one of his faults and failings were slowly dragged into view, before his neighbors and colleagues. His money woes were now fodder for public discussion.

Marital problems? He had them, and now he was going to get a lot of advice.

 

His upcoming appointment with the priest of Healer to have an embarrassing rash cleansed from a tender locale was also discussed. 

It was a bad day in shawarma town and Gary melted into the crowd before she got the idea to turn on him. Damn tasty sandwich though. 

 

Gary headed in through the gate and up to the temple district, looking for Otho. Inside the cheerful temple of Joy he found a colorful wonder of architecture, but no Otho.

 

Knocking on the door to the rectory brought an aged maid to the door, who told him; “Try the college son, wait, I will have my great granddaughter guide you, she is about your age…” He slipped away before things could go any farther.

 

At the college, there was a pair of city guards at the gate, but they waved him through without trouble.

 

Today the woman at the desk had time for him. Without Otho and Liam, especially Liam distracting her and no money on the line. “Aisha Quinn'' as she introduced herself, was charming and helpful.

 

Neither Otho nor Amicus were receiving visitors, having much to do. She did take a message for them but that was all he could get. On impulse he decided to try a little skullduggery of his own. “I just met that Liam guy,” He said mildly “what's your read on him?”

 

“I don't know him personally, but he is always polite and friendly. He does seem a little sad though.” 

Gary nodded, “I should do something nice for him… what do you think would be a good idea?” 

 

She flushed prettily. “I’ve heard what he really wants is to Contract with Healer, but Healer will never Contract anyone who has pledged to War.” She seemed almost conspiratorial, gossiping on a taboo subject with a stranger. 

 

Gary felt bad for tricking her, but he did not stop drumming his fingers on the table top and humming ever so softly. 

“I heard that he asked Joy to intercede with Healer, but has not been answered yet” She almost whispered.

 

Gary hummed a little more. “I can't do anything about that. Any other suggestions?”

 

Gary eased his gift back a little as she tried again. “Well, the festival of Healer is coming up, he needs a new set of festival clothes… Please don’t let on that you know about… the other thing.” Gary eased off again not wanting to jelly her brains or anything.

 

With a devilish grin Gary went back to face the cunning and deadly Jennah in her lair, she had already extracted her prize from him, so this should be a pleasant visit.

 

It was pleasant, right up until she twigged to what Gary was up to, and demanded in.

 

Gary carefully mansplained how sagely and cleverly he had sussed out the attraction between Liam and Aisha, only to be cut off at the knees.

 

“The kids in the market have been running an “Aisha murders or marries Liam” betting pool for a year. I’m in for a bronze half mark on married by next winter. Double share if it happens on the feast of Joy.”

 

Matchmaking was a blood sport in this town. “So what's your plan traveler? Fake kidnapping? Tried and failed. Runaway cart? Failure. Secret love letters? The girls at the college tried that, Liam can’t read, Otho answered all the letters and set half the female population at the throats of their co-conspirators.”

 

Gary smiled smugly. He had seen enough anime to know how this was going to play. A few minutes later Jennah was grinning, “... and this is how it is done in your home? Clever.”

 

Gary was excited to be plotting rather than defending. “But who else can we involve, we need one more. I think I can get Otho or Amicus to help, I don't know anyone else.” 

 

“No,” Jennah said. “they would smell a trap, those two are known troublemakers. Trelawney, now…” 

 

A lump formed in Gary’s throat. “Ok.” he croaked, watching Jennah’s slender fingers dart in and around with needle and shears.

You have gained skill in tailoring, Congratulations.

 

She took that for hesitation. “Gary,” she said, pinning him to the wall with a steely gaze. “If you leave my sister waiting for you I will see to it that no woman in this town will sell you food, mend your clothing nor shelter your pitiful hide. Know this” 

“Yes Mistress Jennah,” He stammered. 

She smiled, hammering away with those weapons grade dimples. “Good boy, your part in this scheme is almost done, you need only pay your loyal minion and let her work her magic.” 

With a palm upturned she blinked at him through her eyelashes so coquettishly it left no doubt as to who was who’s minion. He gave her a copper mark thinking to gain the upper hand, only to realize he had overpaid by half when he was almost home.

 

“She did it again!” Gary shouted when it hit him, startling a group of people eyeing the front of his house.

 

He melted into the small crowd with his ‘noticemenot’ dialed in to ‘I kinda know that guy’ and asked “Anything happen?” 

“Nothing, someone said it has to do with the acolytes of Joy we are expecting, I wonder though.” His random confidant said. Satisfied, Gary did his disappearing trick, made his way out back and conjured a back door briefly.

 

In the workshop, the guitar and mandolin were cured hard and nicely resonant. After a tranquil hour’s work, they were strung up and settling in very well. He touched them and got:

 

Guitar, instrument, lute class, unranked, can be enchanted up to Iron Rank plus by a qualified sorcerer. Quality, rare.

Mandolin, instrument, lute class, unranked, can be enchanted up to Iron Rank plus by a qualified sorcerer. Quality, rare.

Iron rank plus was new, he would ask the nerd squad if he ever saw those dweebs again.

 

While strings stretched and soundboards settled, Gary got busy on his weird, fretted shamsen. A new skin was no problem, he got that stretched on and tuned up shortly, an easy task when you can conjure clamps and rings in any shape or size at will. In the morning the glue would be set and ready for new gut strings from the tanner. He really hoped that guy’s wife didn’t hold a grudge.

 

He tuned up his new instruments, waved goodbye to his patient and headed upstairs for a bath, a change and an evening out.

 

In his green and brown upmarket finery, Gary headed for town, easily eluding his watchers. He kept the mandolin out, it was being finicky about tuning on the bass strings.

 

Once satisfied he began strumming and picking through Greensleeves, because that's what you do in a magical world.

 

He kept his power on a leash, just playing as he walked. A few of the older teenagers were still in the orchards but most people were heading in at seventh bell.

 

It was still bright and warm, but the light had turned golden, Gary’s favorite time to busk. He slipped into the square and found a seat on the sunny side of the fountain, where the trees would just barely shade him until the day cooled.

 

The acoustics were good and foot traffic was busy, but not dense or hurried. He eased out his guitar and gave it a little fine tuning and started in with ‘Fly Me To The Moon’.

 

If a young guy with a bum leg wants to busk and not get robbed, one of the best places is near a senior center. The money is not good, because we treat our elders like shit. But if you play oldies, or even better, jazz standards, the ole’ great american songbook, it's a winning strategy.

 

He could not even remember how many old ladies or dudes had claimed to be his grandfather or great aunt to defuse an unstable cop, or more dangerous rent a cop.

 

The swinging jazz era was a goldmine and he meant to plunder it for his own profit. His family had learned them to play at the senior home that great aunt Joan had spent her last years in.

 

The family visited every weekend and played for the retirees. Gary was shoved into the role of preteen crooner. A role he enjoyed, vamping and playing to the crowd.

 

He was no rare musical talent, nor great singer or performer, but he had been trained by a few his entire childhood.

 

As he pivoted his hips through ‘Ain't That A Kick In The Head’, a pretty redhead paused to watch, old enough to be his mother she smiled benignly, looking careworn and a little sad.

 

Gary took that as a challenge. He loosed just a bit more Entrainment and started a lilting tune, bouncing and infectious.

 

I have often walked these streets before,

But the pavement always stayed-beneath my feet before…

 

Gary keyed in on her, not constantly, but maybe twenty five percent of the time, slowly as the song progressed he brought the pressure of his attention up, until the crowd and she caught on. She blushed and started to walk on but it was too late. With an impassioned crescendo he lit into the final verse.

 

Let the time go byeeee!

I won’t care if III!

Can beee heeere on the street where you liiiiive!

 

The crowd enjoyed it more than she had, so he bowed low to her, blew a saucy kiss and swanned away, leaving her friends to gossip. 

 

Sometimes you just need to bring chaos into someone's life.

 

He settled back on the fountain rim and traded for the mandolin. Jimmy Durante’s ‘Smile’, was bittersweet and a good mood for sunset. 

 

There was no one around who could stop him, so Gary played Stairway. He felt more rebellious in that moment, heroically violating copyright in a new world, than he ever had before. He poured his heart into the finale doing his best Jimmy Page.

 

He would have liked to say the crowd was stunned, but confused was more accurate. A few seemed to have liked it little enough to break from his power and slip away. But there were a few who showed genuine enthusiasm Including one who seemed familiar… dark robe, hood drawn in the gathering evening cool.

She was short for an adult, but something told him she was closer to his age. Curls the color of good honey glowed from her hood whenever a ray of sun snuck in, gleaming on a golden cheek with a hint of dimple, even at rest.

 

This was dangerous territory, time for a disco beat, a real toe tapper with some surprising rhythm changes.

 

We’re no strangers to love,

You know he rules and so do I…

 

He had them, the crowd was holding the girl at bay, he just needed to keep playing and keep the energy up.

 

His own focus betrayed him. Just as he wound down ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, seventh bell sounded. Sweet, sad and ponderous it was in key and on rhythm. He started before he knew what happened.

 

You must understand, though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react…

 

Tina Turner was a fatal mistake, especially that one, too intimate, too heartfelt. He felt the stress of the woman’s regard from where she stood, hidden eyes boring into him.

 

He ruined the set by wrapping it up with some ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown’ just to stir the pot, the dancing that erupted let him slip away.

 

He was certain that girl had been the acolyte of Healer in Otho’s goonsquad. He felt bad as a performer, bailing out on a show leaving such weird energy behind. ‘Mom would have told me to do better next time.’ He thought.

 

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