Legend of Ransera

The High City of Zaichaer
24th of Searing, Year 122 Steel

In many ways, the Brass City was the antipode of Kalzasi, but its people were just as on edge.

But opportunity rarely knocked twice and if the times were perilous, well, that was nothing new. This trip had been in the works for some time, but it was a tip from Torin that had helped it manifest. His predecessor at the Theater had maintained connections with the covens of Zaichaer, helping them extradite members for whom the city became too dangerous. He wanted to renew those ties, but he wasn't Celisa, and they were slow to trust. But now he had Urs Wardell, a scion of the covens. They put their knowledge together, and now they had a much better idea how to track them down. And Aurin had something Urs didn't have—the goodwill of the new First Minister of their city-state's enemy, the purported enemy of the state, Brenner Dornkirk.

With a little careful correspondence, he had secured them entrance into the city, flying from Kalzasi to Shemashk and thence to Zaichaer, a much less complicated route than they would have had to undertake without an in. But customs had treated them with great respect, Master Aurin Kavafis and his assistant, Urs Wardell.

En route, they had spoken plainly to each other because they needed to be on the same page to do the work they wished to do while under the aegis of the First Minister's good will and Aurin's artistic license. They had discussed their magics and their mundane skills. They were a team, at least until they quit Zaichaer. They had to know what the other was capable of. Between their writ from Dornkirk and their Semblance tricks, they didn't even need to receive licensure for magic.

Aurin had gone to the Pfenning Theater and dropped what he hoped were clear clues that he was looking for the contacts with the underground railroad that he was seeking to reinstate the Kalzasern terminus and that he was there investigating with only the best intentions. He intended to profit, of course, but he would deal with the covens in good faith should they deign to speak to him.

Now, he would follow up on a few leads—some his, some Urs'—and see whether they found the covens or the covens found them.

He glanced sidelong at the man, his sharp jaw and generous lips.

"How did you bed the elf?" he asked, a barb of challenge in his question, but more than a hint of good humor. "Don't get me wrong. He's a fine looking fellow, but he seems rather... sexless."

Aurin laughed at Urs' response. His comment hadn't been laced with malice. He liked the elf well enough that he didn't mind Torin sharing some of his secrets, after all. But if Urs didn't like his humor, he wouldn't press it. He just hoped the physician knew about Torin and the elf and how deep their friendship was. Aurin didn't feel threatened by it, and Kalzasi had legally established non-monogamy, but there were people, like Arry, who got jealous.

For his part, he was trying to balance his use of his Semblance trick between hiding his aura from prying magical eyes and getting a deeper sense of his surroundings. Urs was a bit more aggressive with his searching, but seemed quick and cunning about it, avoiding notice. A part of him was impressed and paying attention, wondering if he could ape the technique later with some practice. Witches and Circle mages and most magic users seemed to be taught their craft; Aurin was self-taught, for better or worse. He didn't know if the witches would admire that or sneer.

He felt an itch between his shoulders. His trick didn't register anything, but he was being watched.

It was difficult to con a con man, and he was instantly on alert when the woman bumped into Urs. He even sensed the familiar manipulations of Mesmer, but the woman's magic isolated the spike of rage it triggered, soothing him and urging him to follow. He told himself he could stop and turn around if he wanted to, but he wouldn't ever know for sure because he followed her, followed Urs, and walked into the inn's taproom. Clever eyes noted that the bartender was an accomplice of hers, though he couldn't bring himself to think ill of her.

"Don't do that again," he said softly, when he felt her relax her control. He stretched his neck from one side to the next, then settled himself, smiling with all his charm and glancing sidelong at Urs to make sure his charge wasn't still under her spell. Then he looked back at the woman. With a quick nod of his head toward Urs, he said, "His mother was a witch and he's looking for his family. My predecessor helped marked mages make new lives out of the reach of the Watchers. I want to negotiate a similar pact with the lovely witch covens of Zaichaer. You can listen to my symphony all you like and know I speak without guile."

Though she addressed him first, he let Urs precede him in responding. Thus he was able to observe the woman while they did their wheeling and dealing. It didn't show on his face, but he wished Urs had given him the book. He could have cracked the code and figured out what the book said, giving them much more leverage for negotiation, but it didn't matter in the end. Urs was useful in and would likely get what he wanted if he could pay the witches' toll.

But Urs was a friend of a friend of his boy, so he tried to help him out by cutting in with his own negotiation, hoping to throw the woman off her game a bit.

"Celisa retired from the Theater and trusted me enough to tell me about the underground railroad," he said. "I know the Pfenning Theater is another link in the chain, and I've spoken with agents of the theater here." He shrugged. "If I'm denied, I'm not about to go to the Order about it. But I want to reinstate that avenue of escape, which may be all the more necessary with war brewing. Surely the Order will crack down hard in order to make the citizens feel safe from the evils of Kalzasern sorcery. I help you get your people to someplace safe where they can get back on their feet even if they leave with nothing but the shirt on their back. In exchange, I get credible information out of Zaichaer.

"And I want to be an honorary member of the covens."

Aurin was confident he could negotiate the first. The second was a shot in the dark, but he had always heard the witches of Zaichaer had tricks up their sleeves that no other mages knew. He wanted that edge when his past came back to haunt him. He had people to protect now, and so he would protect others in exchange for the tools to protect himself and his people. He maintained steady eye contact rather than glance at Urs, though the fussy doctor was one of those people now by default.

Urs was important to Sivan, who was important to Torin, who was important to Aurin. When one cared about someone else, there were always strings attached. But that was probably how the covens worked, as well, so perhaps she could empathize. He wasn't trying to obscure his aura, though, not from her. She could measure him as she would, and with luck, she wouldn't find him wanting.

One eyebrow rose like the wing of a red hawk when she mentioned blood; he understood that, of course, though he had left his compass behind, not wanting to risk losing it to some poncy Watcher of Purity. He had the First Minister of Zaichaer's goodwill, but he didn't know how far that would go all things considered, though he had covered his tracks well and didn't expect there were any tailing him other than Valencia and her ilk, whom he had sought to flag down in any case. Urs would make his decisions and, whether he lost a little blood or not, Aurin would endeavor to get him out of Zaichaer with his skin intact. His skinny ass was keeping Sivan happy, which meant the elf wasn't taking up so much of Torin's time that he hadn't any to spare for Aurin himself. He always had reasons and reasons for the things he did.

While Urs mulled that over, Aurin continued negotiations.

"Of course, tit for tat, and all that," he said, smirking with amusement rather than malice. "I expect you have at least one person among you with the requisite skills to create magically binding contracts. And as for the latter, I didn't figure you could negotiate that on behalf of all the covens. But I think you can tell which magical tricks I have up my sleeves..." Literally, he almost added. He had limited intelligence on the covens, though there were a couple that seemed aligned with his worldview and his skills. They could teach him their variations on the trick, and he supposed others could initiate him where necessary.

"I don't know what goes into your initiations, whether a mark is enough or..." He shrugged. Though he had some idea, he didn't want to give up the slight advantage of her not knowing everything he knew. He was acting in good faith, but this was still a preliminary negotiation and he could still get the short end of the stick if he wasn't careful. "But meeting with their leaders would be enough for now. Let them hear the song my soul makes for your trick, let them vet my abilities to make good on my side of the bargain. I could be a good person to have among your ranks."

Of course, far from Zaichaer, he would operate without a great deal of oversight, which suited him just fine.

"Then the information would be staying within the covens, right? Then I would be helping my own people. This could be a win-win situation."

In that, he wasn't lying. He wasn't even dissembling. He had a desire to help these people stick it to their unjust overlords, but he needed to be getting something out of it as well. That seemed only fair, even to a con man.