Chapter 9

‘You dragged him through this corner of the Dirt-Finger-market? Are you out of your mind? Even the locals avoid these parts. I thought you knew these alleys here, Sero.’ The thief Dala Mesmoli gave Seroin a mischievous grin. ’A special kind of tour, eh? It's further down here.’ Dala stepped to the edge of the flat roof and jumped to the next one down. There she dropped onto her bottom and tapped on the stone next to her.

Seroin followed her cautiously, examining every pebble on the roof.

Behind her, Tomga was still panting, the elf threw contemptuous glances at the thief, his face twisted into rare anger.

‘Sit down. No tricks. No trap or magic.’

‘Hands out and on your knees.’ Seroin pointed at Dala's robe. “You have enough A.M.I.s to afford the best glass ball spells. I'm not taking any chances. Show your fingers.” The young woman made no secret of her hand on her crossbow.

But Dala smiled and placed her fingers openly in front of her on her boots. ‘Do you think I'm planning my revenge on you, Sero? For that little but effective action of yours last time. Lieb-quarter. I don't need to remind you. I saw it.’ Dala gently stroked her short, red hair, her bright eyes narrowed in accusation. ‘You gave me your hand willingly.’

Tomga took a step forward, so powerful that the roof trembled slightly. ’Dirty creature! Image of Diersa stolen and for your disgusting trade!’

The thief didn't care, which made Seroin feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Oh, you little knight. How happy you looked when you saw me. It would have been better if you hadn't found me. But please sit down. I don't want to suffer any unnecessary stares. Soon more people will come here to rest or to celebrate a successful day.’

Seroin looked around briefly. They had gone back down a flight of stairs into the dirt of the Filth-Finger-market, and now found themselves directly under one of the high trading places of the Feeding-street. Around them were the solid stone columns that held the squares in the air.

Countless thick ropes were attached to the stone, with bags, sacks and even small boxes hanging from them. On the pillars themselves, a multitude of ramshackle wooden huts had been erected, some of them attached directly to the side of the stone, only connected to it by a loose rope ladder. Between these almost floating huts, narrow, rickety bridges hung, each step on them felt like your last.

Below the wooden huts were the flat houses of the Dirt-Finger-market, huddled together in narrow alleys.

In between was a small square. From everywhere, rusty, narrow pipes led to the centre of this square area, and again and again a torrent of water shot out of them and collected in a small, central basin.

Young and old, humans, elves, dwarves and orcs met there to wash their clothes, check their bottles or clean themselves. It was reminiscent of a lost oasis in a desert of poverty and despair, but the mood was one of cheerfulness and relaxation. Children played tag among the adults, who gossiped about the day and showed off their bought or stolen loot. Many worried about making sure that everyone got at least a bite to eat and a clean drink of water.

The market place above them was dominated by the natural sun, but down here, torches and some artificial light helped to counteract the broad shadow. It was the hustle and bustle of a small, close-knit community; the high illusions of the large families of Badazan were unseen here.

Seroin sat down on the floor after a brief inspection. ‘You live here now? You're taking us right to your home?’

‘Sometimes. Although I do appreciate this place. You can find a strange peace in the dirt. And you can't see any of the column towers, especially not that monster in the middle, the True One.’ Dala whistled sharply through her lips, gaining the attention of an older dwarf below them. ’I hope you prefer plain tea, consider it a guest gift.

‘Poison?‘ Tomga knelt down as well, his anger with Dala wrestling with his growing enthusiasm for this place.

‘Well, sure. You want to get to the next life quickly or slowly?’ Dala bobbed her head back and forth. ‘You don't look bad for someone who's supposed to be just over 150 years old. And a veteran. Although those scars... I'd have them removed. Badazan is quite good at that, aint it true, Sero?’

The knight involuntarily touched his face, his eyes sharpening again. ‘I wear every wound from the Daumaje with pride! And keep your head still! Or are you possessed?’

Dala continued to bob. ’No. I'm fluttersick.’

Tomga stopped and Seroin pointed at Dala's eyes. ‘Our thief overdid it with the A.M.I.s back then. Her eyes were affected. She can only see things that move in her field of vision. If we stay still and she stays still, well, she just sees right through us.’ The young woman raised her hand and imitated Dala's movements. ‘Handy if you want to see through walls. Terrible if you're trying to navigate through them.’

Dala hissed. ‘So it's a curse and a blessing? I would say the same if I were in your shoes. You talked me into all this! When you wore different robes! And your hymns of praise about this city were never-ending!’

Seroin leaned forward. ‘You sound like a growth.’

‘I was. Fresh and naive, just another woman from the Mesmoli family.’

The knight cleared his throat, his anger half-muted. ’So you come from the Mesmoli family. I know that name of the line. It is not from here, but from the southeast of the continent. It is old and honourable. I have served with some of the Mesmolis. How is it that someone from this family resorts to such disgusting street magic? Are you...?’

‘Outcast? Oh no, I rushed here full of zest for action! My family loved my magical talent so much and I really wanted to go to the free and beautiful city of Badazan!’ Dala shook her head in amusement. ‘Don't ask such questions, you fool! Of course I was cast out. I fell in love with the wrong woman and at the same time had a weak child with my disgusting husband. The child died young, taking the husband with him, and my lover disappeared. Result, my family hated me.’

The thief laughed again, heartily and hollowly. ‘However, one thing is true: Badazan shaped my magical talent to heights I couldn't have imagined. Even though I tried to help it along unnaturally at first.’ With a steady hand and bobbing head, she accepted the pot of tea from the older dwarf who had climbed up to the roof to deliver it. ‘All thanks to good Sero here!’

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With delicate calm, she took a sip of tea. ‘So, Sero. What is it? Who this time? What this time? I know your only reason for looking for me. I've seen it often enough with my old master Liku. Good Sero comes for one reason alone. A.M.I.s. And today, by tracking down a stranger. Who is it?’

Seroin kept a straight face. ‘First of all, I should make it clear that we are here at the request of Mr. Shiverlip.’

At this name, Dala's eyes lit up briefly with fear.

‘This time I am only looking for a poor, lost woman. I have seen her face and know her features. You collect information from countless traders and travellers. You may have seen her involuntarily, know more about her.’ Seroin held out her arm. “So, will you help us? Or should word get around that Mr. Shiverlip no longer can rely on you?’

The thief trembled with anger, but she smiled gently. ”Of course not. I really like my time here.’

‘You have A.M.I.s and a line name. Why do you live here? In such a...’ Tomga didn't dare finish the sentence, but Dala grinned weakly.

‘In a disgusting hole like this? I have more than a few A.M.I.s, you're right about that. But where would I fit in better? Here, people don't care about the labels of the old and new world, they don't judge with a single glance. I was sick with flutter and stuck in the dirt of the streets. Not the fine people from their high towers pulled me up, no. The dirt down here lifted me up. Liku, Shiverlip, helped me when no one else would. A different life would be too exhausting for a flutterer like me. But of course, everything here has its price. So I'm happy to help as much as I can.’

Seroin nodded simply. ‘You've already checked once. But now I'll show you what we're looking for.’

The thief and dream dancer gently touched Seroin's pale skin, and a light shot before the young woman's eyes. She concentrated on the image of Tomga's sister, but especially on her neck, the amulet and its black steel. In the midst of her memory, Seroin hissed with distaste and dullness. ‘The woman's face is secondary. The steel. It's about the steel. Where have you seen it before? Help me and keep quiet, and I'll make sure that your A.M.I.s increase instead of decreasing. Deal?’ She concentrated on the amulet and the image of black steel flickered briefly before her mind's eye, then her senses brought her back to the present world.

Dala shook her hand and began to rock again. The two women looked at each other silently for a moment, exchanging a story between them.

Then Dala shook her head. ‘No. I have not seen her. Not in any other person's memory. The face and everything about it, absolutely everything, is foreign to me. But you are not alone in your search, I can tell you that. Someone came to the Feeding-street recently and was also looking for this woman. Someone not without influence. Lady Olva of the Wooden Surf.’

Surprised, Tomga rose to her feet and beamed with growing joy. ‘Lady Olva? She is searching too! What a miracle Diersa. With her help... that's good news, very good indeed. A new lead and it leads us directly to an old friend.’

Seroin took a rough and greedy gulp of tea, no different from a schnapps in the bar. ‘Tomga, would you get me a glass of water from down there? Then we can actually leave already. Be happy, it's good news!’

‘Isn't it?’ The elf briefly examined the countless pipes that ended in or above the basin in the middle of the small square. ‘The water? Do you really want to...

Dala giggled softly. ‘It comes from the Feedingstreet. You see, the Plattis feed the street above, the street that was overdue due to the Plattis themselves. And the many high trading places of the Feeding-street feed us. The water here comes from various places up there, but it is actually pure. It was used for washing fruit or polishing steel. So don't be so stubborn and give the lady in distress a drink of water.’

As ordered, the elf rose and leaped down onto the square.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Seroin darted over to Dala. ‘The steel, too? This Olva is also looking for this black steel?’

Dala raised her hands in defence. ‘The woman, definitely. I saw it in the minds of an assistant at her court. She travelled to Badazan especially for this, but seems to want to keep this to herself. This lady must know a little more about it, but what, I cannot say. You'll have to slip into your old skin and investigate.’

Seroin gave her only a half-hearted, disparaging smile. ‘Save the reproach. I know what you sell and to whom. How many people ended up in boxes because of you? Raised out of the dirt? You feel pretty comfortable in it, like me. So keep your tongue in check.’

Mesmoli shrugged and poured Seroin some tea again. ‘I still like you, Sero, I really do. These streets, this city. It stripped us both naked, whipped us and mounted us. Different mother, same whore. That's why it hurts so much when this rare trust is broken.’

Seroin slowly raised the tea to her lips. ‘I don't dislike you either, Dala. I told you a lot of things back then to please you. You knew that. We both knew what we were doing. And why.’

‘Then we had our fun and fell out. Since then, just business partners?’

‘Strictly. Only. If you are looking for something other than A.M.I.s in this city, be it peace or love, you will find only one thing.’

‘Death. Keep your head down and don't attract attention, I appreciated these words about you even then.’ Dala cheekily took the tea from Seroins hand and took a sip. ’That's why I don't want anything to happen to you that you are not responsible for. The elf.’ She nodded discreetly from the roof down to Tomga, who was arguing with a young orc over a bag of water. “Not a particularly familiar face, but I once knew the name vaguely. But. The street gang Young Harvest is looking for him. Purposefully. His name alone was enough to send the Gardener's gang after him.’

Seroin looked down at Tomga surreptitiously. ”Why? Because of the war? He seems to have made enough enemies back then!’

‘No, it doesn't seem so. It seems more like something afterwards, but I can't say exactly what. The Young Harvest consists only of newcomers from across the continent, newcomers who rule the Magic-quarter with blood and cruelty. The Gardener is no exception. The Young Harvest wants him alive. They don't even put out a bounty, they just secretly search for him. No one else should get to him.’

‘But there would be a reward?’ Seroin continued to secretly eye Tomga. ’You know that Shiverlip needs him. It wouldn't be wise to be careless, well for now, Dala. If we let him disappear here and now, we'll only make other enemies.’

‘How long will Shiverlip need him? After that, perhaps? The Young Harvest will definitely make A.M.I.s jump.’

Seroin sought Dala's gaze. ‘We both know where they get those A.M.I.s. Besides, they're brutal people. But I'll get back to you. When was all of this?’

‘I saw it in the mind of one of their officers, Uta of the Mosshammer Clan, who reports directly to the Gardener. Uta is growth, like me, even higher nobility, an ancient dwarf race.’

‘And just as fallen into the dirt as we are. The charm of Badazan.’ Seroin rose. ’But thanks to you. I'll tell Shiverlip about it.’

Dala held Seroin's hand tightly. ‘You're sure this elf can be trusted? Pure naivety or a hardened heart?’ I touched him and saw his mind. We both know that the elf has lost certain scruples.’

At any other touch, Seroin would have pulled her hand away, but not with Dala. ‘A risk, I know. But no, I think I have him where I want him. And a truly divine intervention here in Badazan? I'll simply drop dead first.’ She gently released her fingers, rubbed their tips briefly. ‘You're not going to tell me again where I can find you most quickly, are you?’

‘No, Inspector, you'll have to work for that.’ Dala winked at her, her head still bobbing, her short red curls contorted in an eternal dance. “Seeing you too often isn't good for me either.’

Seroin nodded and stepped to the edge of the roof, looking at Tomga. ”I might get back to you sooner than you think. Young Harvest is looking for him, Lady Olva of the Wooden Surf is looking for this sister of his. I like the elf, but I still have to check a few things out. If he's worth A.M.I.'s, you can't let that go to waste.’

Dala giggled cheekily. ’No one will give you better information than I will.’

‘I know. I'll look for Shiverlip. I'll ask if all this is still worthwhile or if the elf can simply disappear.’

The thief grinned darkly. ‘Swallowed up and disappeared in the beautiful and free city of Badazan. Like so many, of even higher birth. And who will look for him?! False dream, false dreamer.’