Agent of the Dragon

Mieryth woke bleary eyed; The Dancing Maid had lived up to its name. There had been musicians and dancing last night. If the dances had been different from those she knew, they were not so different as to be unrecognizable. There had been much laughter when the differences caused tangled feet. More laughter ensued as she and her partners taught each other their variations. She’d been enthusiastic enough that she’d received no less than three outright dalliance proposals, plus uncounted hints and overtures. She’d turned them all down, of course; she couldn’t afford to get tangled up in personal drama at the moment. Nevertheless, it had been a late night.

She got out of bed, ‘flopped’ was the word that came to her mind, and stumbled to the washbasin. Without bothering with cupped hands, she plunged her head into the full ceramic container. The slightly tepid water fell regretfully short of bracing. She pulled her head out with a disappointed sigh, and dried her face with the provided face cloth. Maybe she could wake up by washing off the remains of last night’s exertions.

In the bathing chamber, she encountered several of the women she’d danced with last night. Judging by their conversation and sated expressions, ‘maid’ was a courtesy title of position rather than status. She listened to their chatter with half a mind. She smiled as they teased each other about last night’s conquests. The few teasing comments they threw her way tended to follow the theme of being too tired from dancing upright to dance horizontally. She merely smiled and teased back about the difficulty of doing circle dances in bed.

Between immersing herself in water and the teasing, Mieryth soon felt normal again. She said her goodbyes to the others and returned to her room. It didn’t take long to dress and arm herself; she went downstairs for breakfast.

It was too early for those who danced and drank through the night to be awake. Mieryth saw only a few others in the common room. Presently, Sam bustled up and placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits in front of her. Mieryth thanked her. “Do you have any suggestions on where to look for employment?”

“Not yet. I’ve put out inquiries, but it will be a couple of days before the first responses come in.”

Mieryth winced. “I’m not sure I can afford your prices for another couple of days on a maybe.”

“As to that, I can give you two nights and meals for three Silvers.”

Mieryth thought about that. The inn was a good one. The clientele were fun loving, but not rowdy. The rooms were nice. The food was well prepared. Still, based on what she’d seen yesterday, the price was a bit steep. At the same time, she didn’t want to alienate her only truly local contact. “Can you do two Silvers and twenty-five Bits?”

After a brief pause for consideration, Sam nodded. Mieryth suppressed a surprised blink. Sam’s profit margin must be wider than she thought. If she wasn’t worried about offending Sam, she could probably have negotiated room and board for thirty Bits per night. Mieryth sighed. Oh well. She’d have to be careful in her future haggling. Still, it was less than she’d paid for her previous night. She finished her breakfast, then went to pay for the next two days.

Her first stop was her factor’s offices to withdraw more Bits. She didn’t speak with Mr. Aurimon; one of his junior partners handled the transaction.

After leaving Mr. Aurimon’s offices, Mieryth made her way to the service section of the market district. It took her a while to find her contact’s store. The front was little more than a door in a blank wall between two larger stores. She put her hand on the knob, hesitated a couple of seconds to call up the passwords, then went in.

The inside was as cramped as the front had implied. One of the front corners was a token display area. The other front corner was a fitting area that doubled as a dressing room judging by the curtain pulled to the side. The back half of the room was the work area. A small man was hunched over a table, his figure in profile from the door. The whole store was roughly the size of her room at The Dancing Maid.

“I’ll be with you in a moment.” The man’s voice carried the absent tones of a person concentrating on a delicate task.

“Mr. Drake?”

The man, his actual name was Tamos Atherin, looked at her without straightening, his head rotating as if on an axle. There was nothing absent about him now. “As I said. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He waited for her return nod before returning to his task.

Mieryth stepped on her impatience and turned her attention to the display area. There were two wax models. One sported a servant’s uniform, the other wore a noble’s formal outfit. If these were meant to display the range of Tamos’ skill, they were effective. The servant’s uniform was stoutly made and very utilitarian. The noble’s formal outfit catapulted mere tailoring into high art. The two models were the only display items.

She heard a satisfied sigh, and turned to see Tamos straightening, knuckling his back. “Sorry. I was in the middle of a tricky bit of stitching. I’d offer you something to drink, but all I have is athiss.”

“Serve athiss much?” Mieryth’s response was dry; then she shook her head. “I can do without being put to sleep. I wanted to order a cloak with a lining reinforced enough to support a couple of daggers.”

Tamos nodded. “I can do that, though it may take to judgment day to finish–there’s a pile of commissions ahead of yours.”

Mieryth smiled. “That’ll do. Here.” She pulled the introduction letter from her scrip and handed it to him. He glanced over it, then reread it carefully. When he finished, he held it over a lamp and reread it again with the light shining behind it. Finally, he nodded and set the paper on fire. He let the paper burn to his fingers before dropping the last scrap and stepping on it.

The precautions were necessary. Unlike Mr. Aurimon, Tamos was an Ellendahl Royal Agent. If relations between their nation and this one became hostile, he would be vulnerable. There could be nothing to connect him with Ellendahl. “Now that we’ve verified each other, what can I do for you?”

Mieryth started slightly and couldn’t help looking around. She hadn’t expected him to be this blunt and open.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. This room’s clean inside, and camouflaged from out. You could light up a mage storm and no one outside this room would know.” He paused, then grinned at her. “Though I’d rather you didn’t.”

Mieryth shrugged. It was his life. If he thought it was safe to speak openly, it probably was. “What if someone walks in?”

Instead of replying, he walked to the front door and locked it. “Everyone knows I lock the door whenever I do a fitting. It wouldn’t do for a noble’s outfit to be seen before the grand unveiling at some ball or other.”

Mieryth nodded. “I suppose if we meet more than once or twice, though, you will actually have to produce something for me.”

Tamos nodded is agreement. “We can deal with that when and if it becomes necessary. What can I do for you?”

“I needed to meet you since I’m new in the area. This is, in fact, my first assignment. I’m investigating The Primacy.”

Tamos looked closely at her, and she felt a slight shift in the overlay. Hurriedly she checked her Masking to be sure it didn’t need reinforcing. He nodded still eyeing her. “I didn’t think the Agents ever took on someone who didn’t have the ability to--wait.” His eyes narrowed, and he fell silent for a couple of seconds. Then his expression became one of enlightenment. “Ah.” It had the sound of satisfaction. “Your Masking is excellent.”

“What gave it away?”

“The channels--or apparent lack of. I’ve never seen anyone from Ellendahl without any. Granted, in some they’re so small you practically need a looking glass to see, but they’re there to be seen. You don’t appear to have any.”

Mieryth sighed. “Of course. Will you help me add some microchannels?”

Tamos shook his head. “It requires a much finer level of control than I have. You’re far better at it than I could ever be. I’m a very minor mage. Just barely strong enough to be posted out-kingdom.”

Mieryth smiled. “As you’ve just demonstrated, strength and skill are two separate things.” Tamos nodded and Mieryth continued. “I suspect you have the skill, even if you don’t have the strength to make it stick.”

“Fortunately for me, Detection doesn’t require strength. Just a certain dexterity of thought.”

“Since that’s the case, I think you can help me with Masking.” Mieryth switched to Sight and examined the overlay around Tamos. She took note of how it flowed around him, how it molded itself into and around his channels. She adjusted her Masking to try to imitate what she saw. It was a little like creating a small channel of sand in an otherwise featureless, slow moving stream.

“How’s that?”

Tamos looked at her closely. “Not bad. Can you make it interact with the overlay?”

“I don’t know.” Mieryth concentrated, thinnig the barrier in her mind between reality and the image she was projecting. The whole Masking wavered for a second, then firmed into place once more. She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed. “Better?”

Tamos examined her again. “It looks good.” She felt the overlay shift as he poked at the Masking. He shook his head. “Close. But the reaction’s sluggish. It’s as if you’re having to shift the image consciously. It’s close, but not good enough to fool a detailed inspection.” He sighed. “I’m not even sure if what we need is possible. I don’t think anyone’s gotten even this close. Unfortunately if it isn’t perfect, you’d probably be better off Masking the channels entirely.”

“Oh?”

“Masking the channels completely indicates you’re probably a mage, but it also hides your skill level and strength. Imperfect as it is, this modification you’ve worked out shows your skill is far beyond the average mage. Beyond most accomplished mages, for that matter.”

“Let me try something else before we give up on this altogether. I want you to try Detecting again. This time keep it constant but vary the strength from as light as you can manage to as strong as you can. Keep it up until I tell you to stop.” He nodded and she closed her eyes.

Once again she visualized the sand channel in a slow stream. This time she felt the overlay as it shifted around her. She focused on how the overlay shifted as Tamos tried to break her Masking. She let herself feel the overlay with her entire body. When she could no longer feel the difference between herself and the overlay, she linked what she felt to the Masking, then opened her eyes.

Tamos was staring at her, his eyes wide and lips pursed in a soundless whistle. Then he seemed to collect himself. “Whatever you did, it worked.” He apparently remembered he was supposed to be using his Detectings on her because he poked at the Masking, gently at first, then worked his way up to full strength. “Amazing. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were a minor mage with no more strength than me.”

“That’s good, as far as it goes; but I don’t want to look like a mage at all.” She paced as she thought it over. While there were far fewer mages in this country than in Ellendahl, she didn’t dare assume she wouldn’t run into one who would notice the clear channels of an active mage. If she Masked her ability, they would know she was a mage. If she didn’t Mask at all, they would know she was a powerful mage. If she used this new Mask she’d worked out with Tamos, they would know she was an active mage, if a minor one. It seemed an insoluble problem--with what she had on hand. She stopped pacing. She needed a model.

“Is there someone with inactive channels I can model off of?”

“That I would trust with our identities? No.” Tamos shook his head for emphasis.

Mieryth grumbled half-heartedly. She hadn’t really expected it, but it annoyed her anyway. She went back to pacing and thinking. There was a chance she would need to get close to the leaders of The Primacy. In order to do so, she would have to pass a minute scrutiny. Unfortunately, nothing she could think of would work. Her neck began to ache from tension. She rubbed the sore muscles at the back of her neck and chuckled about the situation being a pain in the neck. Then her hand froze. Not a pain in the neck--a pain in the back.

Over the distance of years she heard Bryne’s voice:

Magic flows through channels. The clearer the channel, the easier the magic flows. The more blocked, the harder it is for magic to flow. Active mages have clear channels since the magic flow keeps build-up from happening. Mages who haven’t used their power for a long time have some build-up. They can wear it down slowly, the way apprentices do. It’s a slow process, but painless. They can also scour the obstacles away quickly. It’s painful, and the faster the scouring, the more it hurts.

Those who have never used magic, the channels are so blocked they might as well be dammed. It usually takes years of work as an apprentice before they remove the blockage because of the pain associated with trying to scour away such an obstruction.

It looks as though the Marking process sent a torrent of magic through those channels, bursting those dams. No wonder you blacked out from the pain.

If she could counterfeit such a blockage, it might put the perfect touch to her disguise. She tried to remember what she’d seen of never used channels. Nothing came to mind. She sighed; she would have to try reconstructing her dam by re-experiencing the pain. Recreating the physical pain was out, but she could put herself in her memory and try to feel the dam being washed away. She would mentally recreate the dam by reversing what it felt like as it disintegrated.

Mieryth turned to Tamos. “I have an idea. It’ll take some time and it won’t be pleasant. Do you have somewhere I can trance?” Tamos opened a door in the back wall hidden by a fabric display. “Nice.”

Tamos merely smiled his acknowledgement and gestured for her to precede him into the back room. The room was smaller than the front. There was just enough room for a small cooking hearth, a table, and two cushioned chairs. Tamos cleared his throat. “Feel free to take as long as you like. I need to unlock the front door. It’s been locked too long already. We’ve been fortunate no one’s tried to come in.”

Mieryth nodded and closed the door behind Tamos. She removed the cushions from the chairs, and put the chairs upside down on the table to clear some floor space. Putting one cushion on the floor at the base of a wall, and resting the other to provide a backrest, she sat and closed her eyes.

Slowly, she relaxed her muscles and began the breathing pattern that would trigger her trance. When thought and sensation ceased to be separate, she cast her mind back to her Marking--and into the fire of unused channels being scoured open.

Her modifications were already in place when she left Tamos’ back room. It had taken long minutes to recover from the phantom pain brought on by her trance. Once she had recovered, it hadn’t taken long to add the impression of never used channels to her Masking.

Tamos looked up when she came to stand across the table from him. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him, then felt the overlay shift as he invoked Sight and used his Detectings on her. He gasped; she grinned.

“It worked?”

“I’ll say. No wonder you were given this task.”

Mieryth smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything.”

Mieryth nodded and left the tailor’s shop, satisfied with her morning’s effort. Satisfied, that is, until she recalled one of Tamos’ statements at the beginning of their meeting: I’ve never seen anyone from Ellendahl without any. He’d been referring to channels. The phrasing was subtly odd--nobody from Ellendahl without any channels. Did that mean he’d encountered people from elsewhere without channels? How did that match up with the idea anyone who had no visible channel was a mage Masking his abilities. That apparent contradiction nearly caused her to stop dead in the middle of the street. She shook off the brief hesitation without interrupting her pace. It was something she’d have to consider--but later.

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