11 - Magic for the Misinformed

“Now, a’fore we gets any deeper into this here bus’ness, I like to be right acquainted with those whats I be doin' said bus’ness. What’s yer name, missy? An’ I don’ right care if it’s yer real name. Most folk ain’t educated ‘nough to know that’un in the first place. Any name’ll do for this here exchange.”

Anilith hesitated a moment, conscious of Pashikh’s warning, before she decided she didn’t sense any ill intent from the strange man. Still, it never hurt to be certain.

“I’ll happily give you my name,” she started, watching the man squirm while he waited for her to continue, “under Oath that you keep it for yourself. I’ll make myself known if and when the time comes, and I don’t care to run into any unexpected obstacles.”

Ol’ Mingus cackled and clapped his knee at that. “Fair ‘nough, fair ‘nough. Can’t blame a young whippersnapper for bein’ cautious, small fish in a big pond an’ all.” His voice grew uncharacteristically calm and collected, and he said clearly, “I, Mingus, only of his name and carrier of what secrets I’ve found, vow to protect the secrets of this young lady as if they were my own, under pain of just retribution.”

Not letting her surprise at his change in speech show, she gave her name. “I am Anilith, and I thank you for your discretion.”

Mingus stared at the floor, apparently lost in thought, although the air in the shop seemed strange to Anilith’s senses. He stared so long, Anilith thought he’d forgotten her. The moment she moved, however, he startled.

“Well, shoot, little lady, gave me a right scare there.” His eyes held a clarity absent from the rest of their exchange, barring his Oath a few moments past, before a wicked grin crept across his face. “You ever felt a dire wurm diggin’ through the ground? Well, me neither, but thought I did there a second, I did. Best be right still when riskin’ an encounter with one o’ them beasties, never know what they’ll pick up with them ears…eyes? Sensomajigs.” He said the last word with finality as he nodded sagely, as if this were knowledge of everyday importance.

“Anywho, pleased to be makin’ yer acquaintance, little Ani. Now, back to bus’ness. If’n I may be so bold as askin’, s’there anything here,” he gestured to the piles arranged in front of him, “as you might be wantin’ to hold on to?”

Anilith thought a moment before grabbing one piece of Rock-stomper’s armor fragments and pulled it back to her side of the desk. “This should do. A token of my first proper adventure here. Strange as it seems, I might have gotten turned around in the Forest and not be standing here without the owner’s contributions. Holding on to this should serve as a proper thank you.”

Mingus looked at her with an expression that seemed to indicate approval, though at her respect for the fallen, or something else entirely, Anilith couldn’t say. “Good, good. Well, even takin’ that out’a the ‘quation, yer still in with quite the haul, little lady. Next on the docket’s payment. You be wantin’ rupees? Barter? Store credit? Mayhaps some combination o’ the three?”

She weighed her options before asking, “Is there a reason someone wouldn’t just take the money and run?”

Mingus laughed, a sound full of madness, yet pleasant for its utter lack of malice. “Aww, well, that’d definitely be the pref’rence o’ some. Mite short-sighted, in my ‘pinion. Never know when a knife might find yer back, o’ maybe just yer purse string. Carryin’ too much can be awful temptin’ to the wrong sorts, putting all yer eggs in one bush, an’ all that.”

“So you’re saying I should split up the offer? Take some combination?”

“Well, now, missy, I ain’t sayin nothin’ o’ the sorts, just statin’ how I sees it. Though ya’d have to be right mad to rob Ol’ Mingus. Some rivers ya can’t uncross.”

“Fair enough. Say I wanted to barter, what could I get from all this?”

“Well, I can’ say you’d have the pick o’ the litter, here. Ol’ Mingus has collected some right treasures in his time,” he said, gesturing around at the junk littering his store.

“Right. So, what might you have in mind?”

“Oh, shore, you want me to sift through the chaff, revealin’ my hand an’ such.” He paused a moment, hand on his whiskery chin, “Well, missy, you drive a hard bargain, there. Let me find a coupl’a summats, here.”

Anilith watched the man blunder around his shop, tossing things this way and that with many a clatter and clang, unsure exactly what he meant by that “hard bargain,” but she wasn’t going to argue with results. In short order, a handful of objects joined the piles already on the desk.

“S’rry, s’rry. Took me a mite long’r an’ I planned. The best things ‘re always hidin’ ‘emselves on me.” Looking at the “treasures” he’d selected, she was skeptical of their value, but waited for the man to explain his selections.

“This’un here’s a right useful bugger,” he said, indicating a quill, bent in more than a few places, with hardly any plumage left attached. “Map anywheres you travels, but it don’ like ta’git wet, an’ don’ be feedin’ it anythin’ unsavory an’ such. Keep that in mind an’ it’d serve ya well ‘nough.”

“Here,” he indicated a small, overly dented box and opened its lid. Inside, a needle, ordinary as any used by a weaver, floated, listing lazily about. Mingus lowered his voice and hid his mouth from the box behind his hand, while gesturing for Anilith to come closer. “He’s a tad bit sensitive, so I don’ like talkin’ too loud. This compass’ll guide ya anywhere ya need to go, but most folk don’ like that it’s rarely where they want to go. Small ‘nough difference, but ‘mportant as anything. He’s got an awful sense o’ humor though, an’ don’t like to be talked about, so he’s a tricky little bugger. Still, useful as all get out an’ worth his weight in…well, he’d have to weigh a bit more for that, truth be told.”

He held out a small, unbecoming ring of gold next. “This here,” he leaned in further and whispered conspiratorially, “can turn ya invis’ble, if’n ya puts it on. Also draws all sortsa evil to ya like a magnet and makes ya uglier an’ a gobber ‘f ya keep it long ‘nough. Still a nice trinket, though.”

Anilith’s face must have slipped, a look of horror showing through for a moment, because Mingus held eye contact, that one ring held out, before he burst out in his trademark laughter. “Awww, shoot, I’m just kiddin’. Who ’n the heck would want summat like that, toss that into a fiery pit first chance I got, I would. Nah, this here’s just for keepin’ stuff. Comes stocked with a full slew o’ foodstuffs an’ the like. Useful for adventurin’, an’ not so bad for shopkeepin’, but I’ve done outgrown it a tad. Might be a few mementos rollin’ ‘round in there, never can keep track.” He threw his hands in the air, “Bah, nothin’ worth worryin’ over. If’n ya want it, it’s all included with the ring.”

Mingus moved on, gesturing to the next object. A small, unassuming coin lay on the tabletop. “This ’un here’s a bit more diff’cult to describe. Simple ‘nough, but nuanced. Helps make choices easier. More of’en an’ I care to admit, me ol’ friends an’ I jus’ couldn’ agree which way to go. This hunk o’ metal came to us one fine day, solvin’ that dilemma. Toss it in the air, make the options known, it’ll tell ya which way it thinks is right.” He paused, sticking a pinky disturbingly deep in his ear. “Can’ say it was always right, but I don’ think that’s the point. See, ways I sees it, more of’en an’ not, the fastest way is jus’ the way you go first. All roads lead to home, an’ all that.”

Lastly, Mingus drew her attention to a simple broach, styled as a pin with which one might fasten a cloak shut. Try as she might, she couldn’t want to look at the thing. “This bugger took me longes’ to find, but can’t think o’ much that might’n be more useful for an up an’ comer. Simple ‘nough, helps keep hidden that which it fastens, an' if it fastens you an’ yours, you might find yourself a mite obscure.”

“Offer’s this: One, a big ol’ sack o’ rupees, sack included. Secon’ly, a smaller sack o’ rupees, though still large, some credit, an’ one o’ these beauts, or extra credit. Las'ly, cause I’m feelin’ generous an’ have taken a shine to ya, a modest sack o’rupees, cause you be needin’ some money to make your way here, any three o’ the treasures a’fore ya, an’ no credit, cause this ain’t a charity I’m runnin’. Won’ find a better deal in town, here.”

Anilith considered the options Mingus laid out. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by the idea of taking a big sack of money, and nearly asked Mingus to show how big of a sack it would be, but didn’t trust her willpower when presented with such a tempting offer. The second option seemed fair, a safe bet. Temperance would surely have taken that offer, but Anilith wasn’t one to take the safe bet. Risky as it was, she wasn’t here to take half-measures.

“I’d like to see what’s behind door number three, please.”

“I see you, Missy, have an eye for value! Don’ be thinkin’ ya’d have gotten such an offer again if’n you was fool'nough to turn it down. Option three it is! What’ll it be? What’ll it be? Which of mine treasures calls to ye?” His speech took on a sing-song manner at the end.

Anilith considered her options. The ring held the most immediate value to her. A place to keep your things was invaluable, no matter where you were; she just couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling she’d had when Mingus had lied about its use. It was almost as if a great spotlight shone down on her from an impossibly far tower, seeing her every move. It was an unpleasant feeling, to say the least, and one she hoped never to understand better than she had in that fleeting moment.

The quill was…interesting, the compass too. They seemed like objects that would work well together, but she couldn’t justify using two of her three choices for the set. The drawbacks also gave her pause, honestly unsure which could be worse.

The broach seemed useful, but she also wasn’t sure how much she wanted to hide. She appreciated the value of stealth after her Master’s lessons on the topic, but felt it had its time and place. It was never her first result, and she couldn’t help but feel that the broach came with unintended side effects.

Truthfully, it felt like all of the objects had a bit too much character for her liking.

The coin held interest for her, and not for the reason she would have expected. When faced with a crossroads, having even a relatively reliable way of choosing a way forward was invaluable. Choosing a path had never been her problem, though. No, quite the opposite, she often chose a path too quickly and didn’t take the time to consider her other options. This coin presented an opportunity to give all her options a chance, in moments when she wasn’t absolutely certain about her intuition.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

If only she could use it to narrow down the options before her. Still, she had an idea of which items she’d choose, she just needed to take a rare moment of consideration.

Finally, she spoke up, shaking a little at her first choice, even if it was undeniably essential. “Alright. I’ll take the ring, the compass, and the coin.”

A sense of finality settled over her at those words, and she wondered if there was something larger at play here, impossible as that seemed. She was nobody here, there was no reason anything special would happen to her, in particular. Chalking the odd feeling up to an oddness of the Tower, she smiled at her decision. Good or bad, it was done.

“Excellent, little Ani! Now, step up and claim your prizes! Let me show you how they work.” Mingus tossed the unclaimed objects behind him, where they were immediately lost in the mess he’d made finding them. Anilith wondered for a moment how anyone could actually go about robbing this man and walking away with anything of value.

A genuine smile rested upon his face, his characteristic madness nearly hidden beneath his glee.

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“You young ’ un adventurers always seem to be comin’ in here with awful skewed notions on what makes magic, magic,” Mingus declared with a sigh. “Let’s clear summat up. That which your people call gifts, well, that’s nothin’ mor’n inherent magics. Inherent magics work a little bit diff’rent for each person, but ya can find some trends, to be sure.”

“Magic,” Anilith said, feeling the strangeness of the word again. “A part of me understands the word, somewhat, but a part of me feels…blocked.”

Mingus spat on the floor. “A sign o’ foolish magics, mark my words. Somewhere, some long time ago, some idjit got it in his mind that hidin’ the truth‘d serve your people better’n jus’ some good ol’ fashioned honesty. Honestly, dumb folk like that ‘re always causin’ more trouble'n they avoid, muckin’ up the whole system for everyone. People be getting’ all sortsa crazy notions when you muck up things as ought not to be mucked with, y’hear?”

“If’n I had an ingot for every time I heard some nonsense of finger wagglin’ casters an’ the dangers they pose, well, I’d be able to outfit a right company o’ nimrods,” he went on, “now, I know some knowledge’s always lost to the ages, but some’re worse ‘n others. Ain’t been a right repository o’ wisdom in far too long, by my reckonin’, certainly not with you people’s propensity for ‘oral tradition.’ ‘Sall well and good, in theory, but I’ll tell ya’, one time I heard word that folk been sayin’ my neighbor and his wife been spreadin’ dung o’er my good name, but don’cha know I showed up to give ‘em a piece o’ my mind an’ there they was, just spreadin’ the manure o’er their garden.”

Anilith gave him a flat look, the meaning of his words lost to her amid his nonsense.

“Point is, little lady, word o’ mouth ain’t always word of truth. Seekin’ knowledge’s the truest pursuit I know, but you’re a fool if’n ya think ya know all, without flaw. Never stop questionin’ an’ you’ll find there’s always a deeper ‘why.’”

Somewhere in the inanity of Mingus, there was a profundity she just couldn’t grasp. It was like he was trying to tell her something, and she knew it, it was just lost in his sea of blather.

“Now, far as this magic nonsense goes, know them nambly pambly finger-wagglers only make up a small number o’ all the magic users ya find in old places, where folk know better, an’ they ain’t the most dangerous if’n ya know how to handle ‘em right quick like. No, missy, it be the ones ya never saw comin’, the sure clever ones, that you gotta be real careful with. An adventurer who doubts a surprise’ll come along sure enough’s gon’ wind up dead a’fore they know what’s hit ‘em.”

The shopkeep paused for a discernible span of breaths before inhaling deeply. “First, and it’s always important to start at the beginning, if’n ya want a strong foundation, ‘n trust me that ya do. First, get rid o’ the notion that magic be just for casters an’ their ilk. Magic is, naturally as breathin’ or shittin’, an’ just as important as either, inherent to all that walks this earth. Don’t be thinkin’ that fancy mumbo jumbo makes ya more magic than someone who coaxes forth impossibilities from the ground or pours their heart an’ soul into a craft. No, missy, there’s magic in all walks o’ life. Most folks just don’t know they’re already doin’ it. Shame how often what we’re lookin’ for an’ dreamin’ o’ is right afore our very eyes.”

“Now, bearin’ in mind that magic ain’t some highfalutin exclusive club, that don’t mean anyone can use just any ol’ magic neither. Ya gotta have a ‘finity for it. There’s something innate to what makes you, you, what resonates with the magic o’ the verse. Some folks say you can change yer ‘finity, but that’s just right ninny-speak to me. Why ya’d ever go an’ sever a connection with somethin’ ya don’t understand just to try an’ mimic it again ‘s beyond me. Seems to me the ‘verse knows more ‘bout its forces than you an’ I could ever hope to grasp. S’pose it works for some, though.” Mingus screwed up his face in consternation. “Bah!”

“Anywho, ‘finity’s just a piece o’ the puzzle, an’ far from the most important. More important, oh I’d say leagues more, ‘s how you use yer ‘finity. Say two folks both gots them a decent ‘tunement to fire energies, they both gon’ do the same things with it, eh?”

With a shake of his head, he went on, “Lassie, this world ain’t never been so simple as that. True enough, they could both go on to be finger-wagglers, but a path is one’s own to walk, an’ more often ‘an not carve out themself. You’ll see more, an’ understand more still, as ya walk your own. ‘snot always a choice, how ya see things, an' that’s more important ‘an anything in how ya use magic. See, two folks might have a fire ‘finity, but one might feel at home in the cold, bein’ more o’ a givin’ flame, while the other might not stand the stuff, needin’ to take in heat from their ‘vironment. So many ways a path might differ, but it’s you, how ya see the world, as makes the most impact. Your ‘spective, your choices, your inherent youness that shapes everythin’. ‘s why I don’ believe ya should tamper with what ya don’ understand, might break some part of ya that ya never knew was you an’ leave yourself someone else, an’ a damn shame that one would be as there ain’t another you out there, but there be many a someone elses.”

Every “you” that Mingus stressed was accompanied by a finger jab directed at Anilith. She couldn’t help but feel she’d lucked out in finding the mad-man, and wondered if the gods had put him in her path.

“That’s about enough philosophizin’ fer ya to get the picture, though. Back to your own examples. Clod-stomper, Rock-clomper, king o’ the fee fie foes. By your own admission, he was decked in the gods’ green earth, no? How you s’pose that got there? Certainly weren’t from the blasted mage what ya sliced in twain. That one were a classic no brains pyro if’n ever I seen one. Dangerous, sure, but overkill.”

“Nah, if ya ask me, Ol’ Clodstomper was leagues more dangerous, just too stupid for his own good. Earth’s a right tricky element, but run afoul o’ a master an’ you’ll find it ain’t no quick skirmish. No, missy, ya be in fer a proper fight, then.”

“Still, I wouldn’t reckon he was even the most dangerous o’ the bunch.” Mingus pulled out the odd tube and hammer she’d picked up from the agile goblin that fell from the tree. He clearly had a better guess to its function than Anilith could fathom. Picking it up and inspecting it with a lopsided gaze, one eye dwarfing the other as it squinted, he extrapolated for her, “this here looks to me to be somethin’ mighty rare indeed. Useless in any hands but those what have the ‘finity, but its versatile a tool as I seen.”

Rotating it around, inspecting it in a way she hadn’t had time to herself, Mingus drew her eye to holes along the tube’s length. He had to rotate the tube in a particular way to make them truly visible, and when he did, the shape of the end changed, forming almost a mouthpiece. He put it to his lips and blew into it, the knowledge that neither she nor Mingus’ had given it a proper cleaning conjuring disturbing images of its filthy owner doing likewise. A faint, breathy noise whispered from the instrument until Mingus, playing around with the holes, found a combination that transformed the sound to a clear, sonorous tone. Twisting the tube again, it returned to its prior configuration and the mouthpiece returned to its initial shape. The shopkeep smacked it with the hammer and a sharp, percussive beat blasted forth from the tube.

“If’n my guess is right, and I’m a gambler with a fine streak, don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise, ya done come across a sonomancer out there in the trees. Rare breed o’ magic, that one, but dangerous in more ways than one. Some reason it an offshoot o’ wind magic, but I’m not so sure. I seen it make illusions what fool the senses, lull people into carelessness, shatter what people thought unbreakable, and tame wild beasts, to name a few. If I were a bettin’ man, and I am, I’d say it’s got more uses by far. How a little gobber ever happened across such magics, well that’s a strange twist of fate, to be sure.”

“You’ve said that a few times now, ‘gobber.’ I can’t say I catch the meaning, aside from it being a term for the creatures I fought.”

“Ah, well, some…maybe most’d just call ‘em goblins, but they’re gob gobbers if ever I seen one, mark my words.”

The word “goblin” was accompanied by a rush of information she, quite frankly, was confused hadn’t come earlier. The Primer told her all about the wildlife she encountered, and even a lot that she didn’t. What made the goblins different? That was the first question she swore she’d find an answer to in this place, but she wasn’t about to ask Mingus and give away another secret, her knowledge from the Primer, for free.

“Anywho, ‘s I said, everyone’s born with a ‘finity, dictatin’ what magics work for ‘em. ‘Finity’s just a piece o’ the puzzle, though. Ya got aptitude an’ practitude an’ just good ol’ fashioned determinitude what factor into power. See, folk ‘re born with all levels o’ aptitude, an’ it can be improved with time’n hard work, don’ get me wrong, but ya can’t get a real substitute for natural aptitude. Problem is, most folk don’ know they have the skill ‘til they’re thrust into a sit’ation as forces ‘em to use it.”

This last statement struck eerily close to home for Anilith. She’d reacted, apparently using magic, without thinking. If that weren’t aptitude, she wasn’t sure what was. Mingus had continued talking while she space out, though, and she quickly tried to pick up the conversation.

“…’s like pushin’ a boulder. Folk with more aptitude ‘ave a bigger body to push, makin’ the task easier. Folk with less aptitude can train and push the same boulder, but they’re never gonna ‘ave the same results ‘s easy. Either way, once that boulder’s a’rollin’, takes much less to keep it rollin’. S’ long ‘s ya keep feedin’ it power, well that there boulder just gonna keep movin’.”

“I kind of understand what you’re getting at, but I can’t help but feel I’ll need some first hand experience to really understand it.”

“Well,” Mingus said with a twinkle in his eye, “seein’ as ya survived that death trap ya described, an’ I’m not so sure ya really appreciates jus’ how dangerous it were, I’ve an inkling ya might have some idea ‘bout your own ‘finity, but I won’ pry. Secrets always come out, one way or ‘nother.”

Anilith found it unnerving, the way Mingus seemed to see, to know, more than he should. Maybe that just came from being around for so long, and it was hard to surprise someone with a true wealth of experience, but she wasn’t so sure.

“That’s ‘nough about that though. Any more lessons on magic an’ I’ma ‘ave to start chargin’. ‘S ‘bout time ya moved on anyway. Mingus has important bus’ness to get to, fun as this all were, an’ delay’s the enemy o’ success, after all.”

Anilith, understanding she was being dismissed and that their transaction was coming to an end, stood to leave. She wasn’t disappointed in the slightest, feeling she’d come away from this encounter far richer than she had any right to, unprepared as she’d gone into it.

“Now, hold on there, missy. Might be as I know someone who might help ya out on this leg o’ your journey. First step ‘s always the hardest, don’ doubt a second. Ya taken that step, but your second could still be a doozy. Best ‘ave someone else around as to catch ya when ya stumble. Prob’ly find ‘im at an inn as goes by ‘The Drowned Marmot.’ Make sure ‘n check it out a’fore ya do anythin’ silly like leave town without checkin’ the noticeboard. Waste o’ a good bout o’ experience, that’d be.”

Still standing, Anilith responded as she turned to leave, feeling fully abashed, not to mention even more certain that Mingus knew more than was natural. “Alright, alright. Message received, loud and clear. I’ll be sure to stop at this ‘Marmot’ and see what work’s on offer before I go out and do something crazy again. Can’t say I won’t do anything crazy, though.”

Mingus laughed, a full belly laugh. “Little Ani, I don’ think as ya could keep that promise if’n ya made it. Oh, an’ one last warnin’ for ya; don’ go practicin’ that gift ya may or may not ‘ave too carelessly, now. Y’hear? Baby steps keep a novice like yourself ‘live, after all.”

Feeling certain their time together had come to an end, Anilith turned to leave with a wave. “Alright, Ol’ Mingus. Be seeing you.”

As the door to his shop shut, he laughed. “Oh, I’ll be seein’ ya, alright.”

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