Chapter 65: 6: Talk of Mages

“Well, seems like you’re in,” Whistle said happily as the door to Basilisk’s office closed behind us. “I mean, I knew you would be, but confirmation is always nice.”

“She can probably still hear you, you know,” I told him, glancing back at the door. Sure enough, as in answer to my words, we heard a little chortle come back from inside the room. “She can definitely hear you.”

The guy just grinned, waving off my concerns. “It’s in the name. You’ll get used to it. It’s when you can’t hear me that you gotta be worried.”

“By the goddess, get the boy some food or something,” Basilisk growled, opening the door a crack to glare at Whistle. “I’m trying to work in here, and these walls are thin enough that your trumpet can be heard from at least a floor away.”

“Right, sorry ma’am,” he laughed, not looking at all apologetic. “Come on then Mist, let’s get that belly of yours filled!”

Oh. Yeah… now that it was pointed out, I was really damned hungry. My stomach also promptly informed me of the problem too, and with a sheepish grin at Whistle, which he still couldn’t see because of my mask, I nodded, “Yeah let’s go.”

He gave a snort, and off we went, back down the stairs and into the big tavern room. Everyone was still there, plus Dancer and Singer, who’d taken up a spot near the group who were playing what looked like a weird combination of dice and cards now.

“Hey, Navigator!” Whistle called loudly as soon as we entered the room. “Let’s get some food over here for young Mist, eh? Boy’s starving!”

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten anything,” I said, taking great amusement at just how true that was. This body had literally never eaten.

“Got it! Food coming up!” the big man with many knives behind the bar said with a broad, if slightly unsettling grin.

Whistle motioned for me to join him at Dancer and Singer’s table, so I did, sitting down on a slightly rickety chair. The couple greeted us both with warm smiles, shifting to make room for us where it was needed.

“I take it that you’re one of us now, eh Mist?” Singer asked, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. “Bassi liked you?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess so,” I told her, then hesitated before asking, “So uh… who exactly is us? Like, do we have a name?”

“Ah, he finally asks the question!” Whistle exclaimed with a laugh, slapping the table. “Yes, we do in fact have a name. Slate Snakes is who we are, on account of our second story work. A few of the thieves’ guild chapters have specialties, ours is the breaking and entering kind.”

“Yeah, and then leaving with the hounds braying at your heels, if your name’s Whistle!” Jitters called from the card table with a cheeky grin.

“This time it was a mage and some dudes with way too much armour on, considering they were running around on rooftops,” I supplied helpfully, getting a chuckle out of those listening. A warm little glow suffused my heart as they all nodded and smiled at my little joke. They were just… welcoming me as one of them. As a slate snake.

“Ha! He gets it already!” Dancer chuckled, leaning over to pat me somewhat awkwardly on the arm.

Turning to smile sheepishly at him, my tightly bound hair snagged on my hood. Not painfully, but enough to remind me of its presence, and the headache that threatened if I kept it tied up this tight. Some stuff they put in video games wasn’t all that terribly realistic, and one was a bun this damned tight.

When I was a kid, I’d actually had long hair. Pitching a fit every time my parents tried to cut it, until they gave up. Gave up, that is… until an incident I had tried my whole life to forget. My mind shied away from the memory like a deer spooked by a careless hunter, and I distracted myself by working at the tight knot behind my head. It didn’t take much, and then there was golden hair spilling down everywhere. Okay, I hadn’t realised how long it was.

A small moan escaped my lips as I freed it, relief tingling through my scalp. I scratched almost greedily at my head, massaging blood back into the poor blood vessels up there. That felt so good.

Tying it up much more gently this time into a loose ponytail, I slung it over my shoulder so I could get a sense of how long it was. I was relieved to find it wasn’t obscenely long, probably just to the small of my back, not my ass or anything major like that.

The next thing in line for my comfort, was the mask. I was going to have to take it off to eat anyway, and it was starting to get a little annoying. Still… I knew what this face looked like without it. Fuck it, whatever, I’d just try and shrug it off or something. Why the hell had my dumbass past self made me so stupidly pretty. Blond hair and blue eyes, like… really?

As casually as I could, I closed my eyes and pulled it down and loosened it so it hung around my neck. The mask was more like a turtle neck without the sweater part anyway, a stretchy tube of cloth that could be pulled up to cover the mouth and nose.

With that done, I breathed properly for the first time since I’d been shoved into this body, feeling a smile play across my lips. The smile faltered when my eyes opened again to find everyone in the room staring at me.

“You’re mighty pretty for a boy,” Singer said after several moments of silence.

“Aye, that’s something,” Whistle murmured, properly quiet for the first time since I’d met him.

I felt my face begin to flush and strange emotions to bubble up from within, but I came down hard on them. I didn’t want to deal with this! With a gulp, I shrugged, playing with the fluffy tip of my ponytail. I didn’t have any words, so I just stared pointedly at the table.

“If he says he’s a boy, then he’s a boy,” an unfamiliar voice said, and I glanced up to see it had come from the guy with the instrument. He gave me a nod, “Nice to meet you there Mist, name’s Lark.”

“Hey Lark,” I murmured, giving him a shy, thankful smile.

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Jitters spoke up next, giving me a sideways goofy smile, “Yeah, what’s it matter anyway? We all have quirks, like my hands here. So whatever, he, she? They just words and such. He can be a boy today, girl tomorrow, it don’t matter. Well, might get confusing, so maybe we should have a little board on the wall, he can write what he is that day.”

“Ah, no…” I said quickly, unable to stop a smile at their kindness. “Thanks but, I’ll just stick with boy. If that’s okay.”

“Boy’s good,” Whistle agreed. “We do get to have an awful lot of fun.”

“Hey, us women are pretty good at that fun thing too,” Singer exclaimed, frowning in feigned indignation.

Me and my stupid, pretty face were soon forgotten as a good natured argument erupted amongst all the thieves, a debate for the ages. Who had more fun, boys, or girls? Able to relax now that I wasn’t the center of attention, I just sat there and silently enjoyed the easy banter.

Their friendliness and acceptance of my quirks did raise a question though. Why were they so friendly, or more accurately, why was a band of thieves this friendly? It had my stomach dropping as I thought about what kind of society would drive good, wholesome people like these to crime. Because let’s face it, the number of people who began a life of crime because it was a desirable career path was very small. Most were pushed into it out of desperation, and maybe a bunch of those found they enjoyed it after the fact.

Navigator arrived with my food after a few minutes of argument, a plate of cold meats, a bowl of hot stew and a half loaf of bread. There was no way I was going to be able to eat it all, but I began my attempt anyway.

As I ate, the conversation around me drifted from topic to topic, and I began to learn about this new world I’d been thrown into.

It was a bleak one, by the sounds of things. About a hundred years ago, a war had raged across the world. Light versus dark, good versus evil, goddess versus god. The goddess had lost, only able to save one city from destruction at the hands of her enemy’s host of terrible monsters. Literal monsters too, from what I was hearing, goblin sounding things, trolls and stranger creatures still.

The wall, which was the ring of green I’d seen from the rooftops, spanned a large area, encompassing not just the sprawling city, but a large chunk of farmland, a piece of a mountain range and even a portion of the sea. All of it centered around the middle of the ruins that this whole desperate city had been founded on.

Unfortunately, as evil as the monsters outside the walls were, the hearts of humanity were just as corruptible. The temple and the merchant council that ruled what was left of mankind on this world were cruel and terrible, by the thieves' accounts at least.

Another of my questions was answered when Jitters turned to me, asking curiously, “So Mist, those ears of yours. Never seen someone with pointed ears quite like that. Sure, there’s some with fluffy ears, or maybe nothing but a hole, but never seen pointed ears.”

“Um…” I blinked, my fingers straying up to touch them. “I know others with ears like mine…”

“Must be divineling blood from out in the wastes then,” she shrugged, glancing down at her cards as someone made a move in their game.

“Uh, what is a divineling?” I asked, my turn to be curious now.

“You know, folks with a little of the goddess’s blood in them,” she said, waving a shaking hand as she placed a card on the table. “Magic folk, although not all of you have enough to throw it around like Bassi can.”

“Basilisk is a mage?” I blinked, surprised. She hadn’t looked very magey.

“Yes, and no,” a voice said from directly behind me. I squeaked in surprise, almost jumping out of both my chair and my skin.

Turning slowly, I found myself staring into those eyes again, those piercing, arresting… gorgeous eyes. Wait, gorgeous? Hold on! Unable to move as though actually pinned to my chair, I watched as Basilisk strode slowly, casually around the table, spinning a spare chair into place and seating herself at it.

“Sorry,” she smiled, her voice a purr and light dancing in her eyes. “Couldn’t help getting a little payback.”

Nervously at first, I blew some stray hair out of my face in a huff. Then strangely, a sort of confidence came over me, in the same way a newly born foal totters to its feet for the first time.

“Fair,” I smiled, dipping my head to the side and raising an eyebrow at her. “But what did you mean, yes and no? I’m completely unfamiliar with magic.”

There went her eyebrow, matching mine. “Well, when someone uses the word mage, it evokes a certain stereotype, yes? It is a label, a word to define. For me? Magic is just a part of it all, a facet of a greater toolkit.”

“Toolkit,” I repeated, nodding slowly. “Yeah, alright.”

She gave me a smile, then leaned forward, a touch of excitement behind her vivid green eyes. “So, Mist… if you’re clueless about magic, I’m guessing you haven’t been tested before?”

“Uh, nope,” I shook my head, then a thought occurred to me. The rogue class in the game that my body had been lifted from… it had been a magical one. Well actually, like Basilisk had said, it had been part of the toolkit. Slowly, unsure of myself, I bit my bottom lip for a moment. What did I say?

Settling on more vaguery, I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I did have some. Just a hunch… my life has been rather strange, especially of late.”

“Intriguing,” she replied with a slow, mysterious smile. “I hope you didn’t have any plans for tomorrow, because if you did, I’m changing them.”

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