Pillar

Chapter Eight

Stooped over in the bright back room-turned-greenhouse surrounded by potted plants, flowers, and herbs, Vivian growled as she was annoyed even though she knew she shouldn’t be. Not only was she doing a job that she’d promised she’d do (the pay wasn’t bad, a silver per tool enhanced) but Jack had finished her tattoo outline and it looked perfect. The calculated runic values of the equations were balanced, the mirrored side of the tattoo held basic measurements that detailed the reversal of the equation, and Jack said that the work would be simple enough once the pigments were all mixed.

“With the blue of the crystals and the burnt green ash of the Leeching Willow, expect a low-key coloring of the lines, something darker than one with your complexion would normally try to get if they wanted color.” Jack had told her.

She’d been annoyed after working on all the tools, her morning gone to the needles worked (including Ezra’s extra two sets that she’d charged three silver and two pence for), and upon hearing the news that her tattoo would be hard to notice her day had brightened considerably.

“That’s good to hear!” She’d said. “While I appreciate the art, I don’t want it overshadowing anything I’m wearing. I’d prefer it accent my clothing, y’know?”

“I’ve heard similar sentiments,” Jack had nodded. He’d thrust a thumb back at Ezra, who’d taken the first customer of the day, a man looking to get a coiled Tatzelwurm around his bicep done. He’d been describing the beast to Ezra, who’d been attempting to sketch it out with charcoal to his client’s preferences, while Jack and Vivian spoke.

“So, that’s why he wears nothing that covers his chest?” Vivian had said, casting a sidelong look at the muscles rippling beneath his bronze skin.

“With something that well done, I’d be ashamed if he covered it up,” Jack had laughed before shooing her from the building. “Your work is done, get on with your day and leave this old man be.”

She’d traveled to the Market District, where she’d met up with Kiara, who was annoyingly chipper and offered her enhancing her tools to be more durable. Knowing she had the notes with the right earthen in it just for such work, she agreed at a silver coin as a tool. That was before finding out the woman had forty odd trowels and miniature shears that she traded in and out depending on the plant.

Now an hour into the grueling work of painting on the intricate earth spirit runes while charging them, Vivian let her mind wander to how Ezra had reacted to her offer to enchant his sword.

“Not,” he’d said with a slight edge to his tone.

“Why? I won’t charge you anything, and I can strengthen it, or sharper. Come on, I need the practice and would love to add to your tools.” Vivian had wheedled.

Ezra had looked at her as his first customer haggled prices with Jack. “First, the sword is made from volcanic glass, otherwise known as obsidian. It comes from… from a region I once visited and is a part of me I wouldn’t risk to your magic.”

“So, you don’t trust me?” Vivian had demanded.

Ezra ran a hand through his hair. “Partly? I mean, I’ve only known you for a day, and while you seem to do excellent work, I haven’t gotten to test it out yet. And as for your comment on my sword being a tool, it’s not. It’s a weapon. Tools can build, can create, can shape things into art… weapons can only bring pain.”

“I could make yours more versatile though!” Vivian had exclaimed.

“And I don’t need that done for me. The blade is versatile enough for me, thanks,” Ezra had said, nodding to the sailor as he approached. “Hello sir, one moment please. Are we done here, Vivian?”

“Yeah,” she’d grumbled before walking up to Jack to settle everything with him.

Setting aside a pair of shears she’d just charged to stay sharp for a year, she heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow. Looking to her staff, which seemed to reflect the sunlight shining into the nursery, she smiled.

“I guess I understand,” she said. “I wouldn’t want anyone working on you either.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, picking up a trowel and dipping her paintbrush in the Hadron seed paint. “Here I am, alone with plants and chatting with my staff over some guy who values his sword more than a twenty-four-hour friendship. Pft! Who does that?”

“You working in here, or chatting with my Selene Moonbeams?” Kiara asked playfully as she walked into the main shop, looking over at Vivian from where she sat on the floor of the storeroom/greenhouse.

“Like your Moonbeams have anything worth saying,” Vivian joked.

“Yeah, well pass one over, I have a customer who wants one and has silver waiting for my pouch,” Kiara said, walking over to the entrance of the room.

Vivian twisted and picked up a small potted plant bearing a closed white flower, a stem sticking out of the slit shaped like a crescent moon. Picking it up, she passed it to Kiara with a smile who took it graciously.

“Thanks, you’d make a wonderful shop keep if you put aside your staff!” Kiara laughed, walking off.

Vivian scowled at her back, painting a lazy rune on the trowel. “Oops. Looks like this one won’t hold a charge that long…”

Sending a pulse into the trowel, she felt the energy cling to the misshapen rune as best it could before it washed away into the air. Sucking it back in with her rings, Vivian funneled it into her staff for storage before lancing out spikes of energy into a few flowering plants surrounding her.

Listening as the flowers stretched and yawned, she smiled and resumed her work, starting up a discussion on what flowers seemed to love talking about the most.

Philosophy.

Another hour died to her working on basic tools, smiling as she listened to the flowers debate the morality of containing budding and the s*****y of their off-shoots for man’s uses in cooking and medicine. Vivian picked up a set of smaller shears and painted onto the joint a seal that would reinforce the metal while also keeping the blades sharp, when she heard a commotion in the store's front.

Two men were talking loudly, speaking with Kiara hurriedly while she tried to calm them down. Standing up, dusting her pants off for a moment, she slipped along the wall towards the open entryway where she could listen in better.

“Tobald, calm down!” Kiara snapped, the sounds of a panting man in clattering metal could be heard. “Now tell me, what has you two so excited you had to rush over here to see me?”

“We need you to provide us with a list of people who’ve bought any Terror Vine from you,” a man, Tobald, said as he gulped for air. “There’ve been three deaths, all with minimal wounds. Their mouths are open and blood pools out of their noses as if they inhaled-”

“Burnt Terror Vine clippings, yes. I haven’t stocked the vile thing for over six months, any clippings would have withered and become useless by now. Where were the bodies found? Who died?” Kiara asked.

“Sgt. Rhine and two of his men, out in the River District on the wharf.” Another man, this one far younger than Tobald, said.

“What, you mean in open air?” Kiara asked. They were all silent for a moment before she whistled. “Well, you can rule out airborne poison, as it would take a lot to take down a healthy guardsman if he were out in the open air, with the breeze to his back.”

“The Captain is demanding that we try every avenue here, and we’re running out of ideas fast,” the younger man said. “The mortician is looking over the bodies, who have minor cuts that went through their gloves and leather under-guards, but that just leads us to believe something was trying to scratch them to death.”

“Well, maybe it was one of those troll brothers I keep hearing about Clay,” Kiara said, as if the case were closed.

Clay must have shaken his head. “I didn’t say claw marks. I said scratches, like from human fingernails.”

“Human fingernails? Are you sure?” Kiara asked.

Clay chuckled. “I have three younger sisters who I helped raise after our father died in the war. Yeah, I know a scratch from human fingernails when I see one.”

“Excuse me?” Vivian interrupted, stepping out from behind the wall. Kiara spun and glared at her while two Tyrik guardsmen stood, hands on spears and shields slung over their backs. Heavy chain mail covered their bodies where leather gloves, bracers, and boots didn’t. They each bore a tattoo, though Tobald’s was far more faded than the chubby faced teen standing next to him. Clay was staring at Vivian with wide eyes, his gaze lingering on her legs before focusing on her face.

Scowling, she snapped her fingers once, sending a whirl of air spinning out. “Focus! Now what were you saying about the deaths?”

“We really shouldn’t discuss it with an outsider,” Tobald said, looking at Clay with a stern expression.

“Yeah, strict guard business you see.” Clay said, eyes refusing to meet her own.

“Uh-huh… well, just in case you need an opinion from someone who makes it her life’s work to study mysteries and unravel them, I’m at your disposal.” Vivian said.

Despite her frown, Kiara nodded, surprising all three of them. “Take her to the bodies. She’s been busy for the last four hours on all my tools, making them a lot better for next to nothing. She’s no charlatan, and she doesn’t demand payment unfitting of her task. Let her look them over and see what she can find.”

“Why should we do that?” Tobald asked.

Kiara shrugged, her muscled arms crossed over her chest. “Why not? Bleak won’t do it without payment up front. If she finds something, and I stress the if, then you can call in the Master Wizard to look over the corpses and pull back the veils to see what lays hidden beneath.”

“It makes sense… how much would you charge…?” Clay asked, fishing for her name.

“Vivian, and I wouldn’t charge anything. I’d consider it a service to the community.” She replied, earning a nod of respect from Tobald and Kiara.

Kiara waved her hand in Vivian’s direction. “See? What’d I tell you?”

“Alright,” Tobald said after a few long moments of thought. “Follow us little lady, we have the bodies in the Garden District.”

“Why there?” Vivian asked, thinking of the beautiful gardens and topiaries that the district was named after. There were upscale homes, fancier restaurants, and social gatherings in art conservatories rich merchants or successful landowners usually were hosted that.

“The Temple of the Earthen Guides is there. They are mostly a school for artists, but they have several priests who are skilled morticians. And, most notably, they’re discreet.”

Vivian digested this information as they guided her through the crowded Market District and up onto a bridge leading across the town to the gated Garden District. Built on raised ground against the town walls, the Garden District was only accessible by the causeway that bisected the town some two stories up. The foot traffic was usually sparse, with a few vendors selling precious gems or herbal teas for those to enjoy while looking over the rest of the Housing District. Vivian thought it was garish, but the bridge served a dual purpose of serving as an aqueduct, bringing river water from upstream down into the city, pouring into a main fountain that cycled the water into the underground flood gates, which poured out into the Vreba in the River District.

Stopping at the gate, manned by two Tyrik Royal Guards, Tobald exchanged words with the woman on duty, a steel haired viper if Vivian ever saw one. Still, she gave Vivian a hard smile before inclining her head, prompting Vivian to do the same as the gate roiled into the wall, allowing them access.