Pillar

Chapter Seven

The next morning Vivian woke with a hangover and a bruised shoulder, with only a foggy memory of how the evening had become one large revelry. She remembered how towards the end that the Royal Guards had broken up the party, some time after both moons had risen, with Ukah bringing her back to her temporary home.

 Looking down at herself, she studied her faded yellow undershirt and panties, lifting one leg to examine an aching ankle. She had a brand-new piece of jewelry, a heavy copper anklet set with garnets. She vaguely remembered seeing the anklet serving as a bracelet for the bruiser Ezra, who after making out with Lillian had hit on Vivian. He’d given her his bracelet right before Lillian had grabbed him by his long hair, yanking him back with a vicious twist.

“Guess I kept it as a memento… heh, me stealing a man from Lil’s. Will wonders never cease?” Vivian muttered to herself. Swinging her legs around, she planted them firmly on the wooden floor of her apartment and stood up, ignoring the way the world swiveled from the movements. Scratching her chest, she winced.

Pulling her shirt off, she stared down at her chest bindings and the ragged wound beneath. It was caked in smeared blood, brown and crusty from having leaked throughout the night. She did a once over with a cleansing charm to rid herself of any infections. She was tempted to use her limited knowledge of earth magic once more, but feared that she might disrespect the spirits if she kept pressing her luck.

“Best to let this heal naturally…” She muttered.

Vivian walked past her discarded staff and over to the slates covering her lone window in her narrow home, allowing her to look down over the Market District. A mousy little woman ran bed Row by the name of Ms. Hanko, who had dozens of tenants at a time. Most were travelers from other cities or districts that just wanted a spot to doze off in a comfy bed. The top two stories were slightly pricier (two silver a month) as they had the view over the market.

The boarding house came with turndown service, shared bathroom facilities on each floor, and lockers along the walls where you could keep valuables and collect mail. Vivian knew that several young scribes from the Scriveners guild lived here, along with an Orator that loved to practice his chanting at odd hours during the day (and night!) and a family of three lived on the bottom floor, both parents working as lantern-lighters for the town while their son trained in the militia to prepare himself for the day when he joined the army. Heaving a sigh, Vivian took a sniff of the morning air before wincing.

“Spirits, I need a bath!” She groused, reaching into the small cupboard afforded each room for her showering supplies. “I smell like an old brewery and blood!”  

Thankfully, Bed Row had indoor plumbing and was adjacent to the River District, granting it access to moving water. With a gold and silver loop engraved with the symbol of “Water Flames” looped over the shower head, Vivian had a long hot shower, ridding herself of the dirt and grime she’d accumulated from her day spent rummaging through the mud of the Vreba River. Listening to the hustle and bustle of the town through the stone walls, Vivian carefully washed her wound to clean it well enough to re-apply bandages.

Vivian undid her plait and washed her hair with a mixture of flower petals and milk, a three pence concoction that Ms. Hanko offered every tenant whenever they wanted the keys to the showers.

Cleaning up after herself, Vivian wrapped her upper body in linen before sliding on a boiled leather chest piece, a heavy copper plate sitting beneath the hard shell to provide cover against any nasty body blows. Pulling up her brown linen pants, she tied off the belt with the silver Tyrik sigil she’d purchased from a vendor a few weeks ago; she’d toyed with the item, engraving the back of it with a single Anam crystal the size of a ladybug and the word for “pure” in the language of the Air Prince.

This made a continual breeze of cool air billow around Vivian, keeping airborne irritants, such as pollen or dust, from bothering her.

Sliding on her boots, she brushed her hair and began weaving it into a long braid. While she did the tedious job, she thought back on how Tobias had acted last night. He’d hung off her many times, pulling her to dance with him when Bo, one hunter, played “Crash of the Giants” on his mandolin.

But moments later he’d also drug Lillian up to dance lockstep in an old Tyrik war dance the two of them had learned during training from a few years earlier. Lillian’s natural grace, enhanced as a knife fighter and archer for the army, outshined any skill Vivian could try to muster for her clumsy dance with Tobias. Frowning, she remembered, barely, the argument they’d gotten into over the “proper” usage of magic.

It’d been Ezra, in fact, who’d broken them up, lifting both by the back of their respective outfits. The titanic tattooist was a force to be reckoned with it would seem, as, per Jack, he was a veteran of the war between the Red Marshes and Vreba. He’d helped take back two prisoner-of-war camps and laid countless ambushes in the Red Marshes where he’d dulled his blade on the hide armor of the enemy soldiers.

Jack had shared with her, over their third flagon of Stout in the back of the shop while looking over animal hides that served as portfolios for the various tattooists, that Ezra had faced the mercenary that’d been executed three weeks prior. Apparently, Ezra had delivered the butcher the angry scar seen on his chest via Ezra’s heavy sword, a blade formed from a volcanic glass from one of the outlying islands in the Sea of Fiery Pearls.

“He’s from one of those islands, though getting him to admit it took me nearly five silvers worth of Fyr,” Jack had said.

The islands were supposedly lands where savages lived, volcanoes erupting every few years to rain down ashen purgatory over the jungles and warring tribes that guarded millennia old ruins. Excursions made to the islands were almost never attempted, as the majority never returned.

Those that did came back with fewer men, and tales of monstrous creatures and savage berserkers that couldn’t be killed.

“I took him in when he sought shelter from the rain one day. All he had was the hundred silver coins guaranteed to any soldier, his armor, and his sword. He was fascinated by what I did and, after watching me do a full back piece on a sailor over the course of nine hours, demanded that I hire him on,” Jack had added after finishing his drink, standing to get another for the both, “I’d been having people refusing to pay, and the River District has its fair share of gangs, so I took him on with a promise to teach him so long as he protected the shop. That was three years ago and look at him! Doing back pieces all on his own!”

To think that guy was a soldier… he’s nothing like Lillian or Tobias. He’s serious, has a job outside of the army, fought off a killer with a sword made from the earth forged in the belly of a volcano! Vivian thought, tying up the end of her plait with the hoop, drying her hair instantly while keeping it warm to the touch. I know! I’ll ask if I can enchant it for him! To thank him for the anklet!

Standing up, Vivian unlocked the door to the showers and stepped out, walking past the bulky Orator as he was checking his locker. She entered her room and picked up her satchel before counting out her savings.

Man, to think I thought I was just going to scrape by! I still have nineteen silver and seven pence… that herbalist said she had some work for me, and I still need to do the jobs for Jack. I guess I can spend today in the city without feeling totally trapped… Vivian thought.

She slid her journal into her pack and looked down at her bared arms. If this works… I’ll be able to get a rich backer for sure!

Squealing, she spun on her heel and scooped up her staff and satchel, locking the door behind her. Making her way out of the building, she returned the shower key to Ms. Hanko, who stopped her for a moment.

“Huh? What is it, Ms. Hanko?” Vivian asked.

“Well, I know you’re a wizard,” she said. “And I was wondering if you could do something about the foundation? It’s sinking as we’re a little too close to the Vreba, and not on stilts like the wharf.”

“Huh… well, I’m not really well versed in dealing with enchantments concerning the earth, so I’d have to ask the Master Bleak if he has any recommendations. I’ll stop by his shop home before I return for the night, alright?”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you Vivian.” Ms. Hanko said, her smile showcasing her missing teeth. “Do try and be careful with that man, he’s most unpleasant.”

Vivian smiled and hurried out, running through the streets of the River District until she got close to Jack’s shop. The wooden structure now open, the canopy was being cleaned out by Kaden, freeing it of leaves and garbage while Jack sat on his stool and smoked, reading a worn orange book.

He glanced up when Vivian stopped, wiping the sweat from her brow. He looked her up and down before arching an eyebrow. “And what battle are we ready for?”

“Oh? Oh, you mean my chest piece!” She exclaimed, laughing. “Yeah, I wear it every other day to remind myself of how heavy it is. I want to wear it should I enter an area that has an armed conflict going on.”

“I see,” Jack said, looking back down at his book. “Well, the Leeching Willow branch was lit just an hour ago, so it isn’t ash yet. Check back around sundown, that should give it ten hours to peter out.”

“Oh, I wasn’t here for my tattoo, I was here to finish my payment!” Vivian exclaimed.

Jack’s eyebrows climbed up higher. “Wow, the first person to pay for a tattoo before I even have the ink ready. Well, do you need me for any of it? I was here last night hovering over you while you worked on mine, don’t know if that mattered.”

“No, just need what I have in my satchel,” Vivian explained, walking under the canopy, jerking away from the cloth as it slumped. Jack barked out a few chuckles before scowling up at the cloth.

“Hey! You rip that you’re paying for a new one!” Jack hollered. An apology came from above and the sunken section of water stained cloth receded, the wooden beams creaking as Kaden working up above repositioned himself. Looking over at Jack, Vivian rolled her eyes at how he’d returned to his book, one head propped up by his palm, elbow on the table propped next to the enormous chest.

Walking into the room, Vivian pulled her satchel over her head and set it on a workbench. Looking around at the wooden stands set into the floor, she smiled at the empty basin of set into the stand and the many jars of different pigments arranged neatly by the tattooist who worked here. She grabbed the closest set of needles and set to work, sitting down on the bench with her back to the street, her chisel slowly carving the runes into the wooden handle to make mirror copies of what she’d done for Jack last night.

While working on the second needle, she heard someone greet Jack and the wooden floor groaned as they entered the shop. Turning, she broke into a wide smile when she caught sight of Ezra walking into the room. He smiled back, his open vest showing off his mandala. He was dressed in simple green linen pants with sandals, a loose belt with a long sword jutting from a sheathe. Vivian wondered if he’d been wearing the weapon last night and she hadn’t noticed, but chose to instead return to her work.

“Already fixing up our tools, eh?” Ezra asked, a light chuckle echoing from his baritone voice. “Well, be certain to be careful with mine! I paid extra to have them made from iron, so I could sharpen them easier.”

“Was it that expensive?” Vivian asked without looking up.

“A silver for three sets, when a pair of needles goes for half-a-pence normally. Had to have a blacksmith make them for me, and those Tyrik smiths gouge you good.” Ezra said jokingly. “I’ll pay you to do my other sets if you have the time. Jack seemed pleased with what you did, and I’ve been listening to him rail against wizards for years. To think he’d accept enchanting from one for a strange tattoo with questionable materials, I’d say you made an impression with your work.”

Vivian turned and smiled, setting down her tools and the needles on the workbench. “I’ll do your other tools for a fee, but I have a proposition for you…”

Ezra raised an eyebrow as Vivian began detailing her ideas for what she could offer his blade, and what it would cost him.