With everyone gone, Mark was alone in the house for the first time since arriving in the city. He needed to investigate his magic, but his family’s departure had drained the building of life, leaving him feeling somewhat adrift. Instead, he walked down the main hallway, the tapping of his staff on the floorboards creating echoes that floated through the empty home.

He stopped and looked around. What the hell happened to our lives?

For some reason, he laughed. Here they were, stuck on a game-like world with no user manual. He had magic, which was amazing, but the only people who might be able to help him with it were the same ones who might murder him if they found out where he got it. Hell, for all he knew, he was actually some kind of Chaos abomination and murdering him was a perfectly defensible position. And that was without the Mage’s College knowing he was a Legend. God only knew what they’d do with that knowledge.

A seizure rose up, interrupting Mark’s thoughts and causing his brow to crease in frustration. It was his third one since waking. Not the biggest surprise, given how triggering stress was, but that was still a lot of seizures.

Taking his glove off, Mark gripped his staff and watched the glowing lines scribe their way across the smooth surface of the wood and blend seamlessly into the flesh of his hand. Opening himself to the staff, he allowed the strands of resonance to flow into the thirsty wood, calming his mind.

“Beats the hell out of Dilantin,” he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled his glove back on. It was time to get to work, but the house still carried the night’s chill, so he made his way into the back yard where he could bask in the sun’s warmth. On the ground. Because they still had no furniture.

With a sigh, Mark found a spot on the smooth paving stones and sat down, laying his staff across his lap. He stared at it, his brow furrowing. So far, all he’d determined was that it could hold more than one seizure, but he didn’t know how long it could be left in a “charged” state, whether there was any decay in the amount of resonance, or even how much resonance it could store in total. There was clearly a cap, as he’d learned during the battle with the nimh, but where that line existed was unclear. Also relevant was whether he could form a connection with the staff without making direct, physical contact. It would be highly inconvenient if he had to remove a glove and hide behind a pillar every time he needed to negate a seizure, so finding a way to do it remotely was a high priority. Assuming it was even possible.

So many questions.

Mark was about to summon his Tome when a knock sounded at the front door.

He looked up. Who could that be? Eliza had already left the city. Maybe Darius, if he’d managed to sell the silverware already? That would be awfully quick, though. It had only been a day. But if it wasn’t Darius, the only other option was—

“Grandpa Jack!”

Mark leapt to his feet and ran halfway down the hallway before his lizard brain started screaming at him to consider all the options, and he came to a skidding halt.

What if it wasn’t his great-grandfather? As much as he wanted Grandpa Jack to be on the other side of that door, there were other more nefarious possibilities to consider. Especially after that visit to the Mage’s College. What good was having a magic door on your house if you were willing to open it up for any home invader who was polite enough to knock first?

Mark was still debating his options when a voice emanated from the other side.

“I am well aware that you’re in there. Could you please open the door? We need to talk.”

Crap.

He recognized that voice.

There was no peephole, but the street-side wall of the sitting room protruded in a trapezoid shape, with one of the windows tilted at enough of an angle that he could peek through it to see who was standing outside.

With as much stealth as he could muster, Mark crept into the sitting room in a low crouch, sticking tight to the wall. There were no drapes to hide behind, so he shimmied over to the window and went down on one knee, tilting his head at an angle so that his eye would barely be visible in the corner of the glass as he peered out at the porch.

Naomi stared directly at him from within the cowl of her indigo-coloured cloak.

“For the gods’ love, just open the door,” she said, her voice muffled by the glass.

“How did you know where I live?” he shouted through the glass. So much for the Cirque du Chânce making them harder to find.

“I’m a mage, remember?” she said, pointing at herself. “I put a marker on you when I grabbed your shoulder. Now could you let me in?”

Magical tracker? Mark pawed at the back of his shirt, trying to find what she had stuck to him, then looked up to see Naomi shaking her head at his antics. Kicking himself, he materialized his Tome.

CONDITIONS

Intermediate Tracking Spell (discovered, 1:12:06 remaining)

You are under the effects of a magical tracking spell. Until dispelled, the caster will be able to locate you so long as you are within 5 km of their physical location.

“Crap,” he muttered. He looked up from his Tome and shouted through the window, “Why are you here?”

“Do you really need to ask?” she said. “You have a class that has never been recorded in the history of the Mage’s College. Trust me, I spent all last night looking. I am immensely intrigued, and you are clearly out of your depth, given your performance at the college yesterday. I want to know more about your class, and a byproduct of that investigation would be helping you understand it as well. I believe they call that a ‘win-win’ scenario. Now, may I come in?”

“You’re not here to kill me or something, right?” he asked.

She scowled at him. “Mark, we don’t kill people simply for having strange classes. Besides, if I wanted you dead, do you really think I would come in person? I have people for that kind of work.”

Not the most comforting answer, he thought. Still, there was a brutal honesty to the statement that rang true.

Mark’s face scrunched up with indecision. He needed help, but letting her in was a big deal. After all, it was the whole family’s house, not just his. That said, this woman was his best bet at uncovering the secrets of his class, even if the opportunity came with the risk of her discovering the class’s disconcerting origins.

Eventually, it was Naomi who settled it.

“You seem to be under the impression that I don’t have anything else I could be doing today. If you don’t want to talk with me, that’s fine, but you should know that based on our brief interaction, I can say with confidence that your ignorance will almost certainly result in you getting stabbed to death and left in some alley. Now, I’m about to leave, so you had best decide if I’m going into your house or onto the street.”

Dammit, Mark thought. Could he really afford to let his best chance at understanding his class just disappear?

Hoping he wasn’t about to make a big mistake, Mark strode over to the door and opened it.

“Uh, hi,” he said to the mage on his porch.

“Hello,” Naomi said, staring at him. He stared back. She peered around him, then raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh! Yeah, why don’t you, uh….”

A thought struck him. He didn’t know how things worked here—he needed to cash in on that arrangement with Darius and learn more about Arenian culture—but he did know how prudish Earth society could be at times.

“Umm, so I should mention that there’s nobody else here,” he said. “I’m not originally from Palmyre, so I don’t know if that would cause issues or, uh, you know…”

She barked out a decidedly un-ladylike laugh. “Are you concerned for my virtue? When my Base Average is 10 points higher than yours, I’m almost double your Renown, and I’m an accredited mage? Even without magic, I could probably throw you over your house. If anyone’s virtue could be compromised here, it would be yours.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a nod.

Naomi pulled her head back. “That’s it? Even as I said it, I realized how bad that last sentence sounded. You didn’t even make an attempt at witty repartee.”

“I have 14 Charisma,” he said flatly.

Naomi cringed. “Fair point. Well, my virtue is long in the rearview mirror, thank the Gods; if yours isn’t, I’m certainly not going to do anything about it. Now hurry up and grant me permission to come in. Your wards—which are really strong, I have to say—won’t let me in until I’m given access. I assume you have permission to invite guests?”

It occurred to Mark that he had absolutely no idea what his permissions were. He’d be chafed if it turned out his mom enacted some sort of parental controls that cost him the chance to speak with the one person willing to help him understand his magic.

One way to find out, he thought, opening his Tome and looking for a section that would allow him to grant access.

HOLDINGS

Palmyre:

327 Cirque du Chânce

(full permission access granted by homeowner)

Four-bedroom attached residential home located within the Chance District

Full permissions granted to:

- Elizabeth Sullivan

- Peter Sullivan

- Mark Sullivan

- Angela Sullivan

- Jack Milsom

Like everything else in this world, there were no indications of how Mark could grant Naomi temporary access, so he simply wrote in a category beneath the one for full permissions. Then he paused.

Looking at Naomi, he asked, “What’s your last name? I’d rather not give access to every Naomi in the city.”

A flash of hesitation crossed the woman’s face, then she said, “It’s del Storr.”

He nodded. “Cool. How do you spell that?”

Naomi’s jaw dropped. “You don’t know how to…? Never mind. D-E-L S-T-O-R-R.”

Putting aside that he’d clearly missed something significant, Mark wrote her name down in his Tome:

Temporary access granted to:

- Naomi del Storr

Just before he closed his Tome, a hunch caused him to make a slight change to the category, which caused another modification to appear unbidden next to Naomi’s name, making him feel somewhat smug for his foresight as he watched the timer tick down.

Temporary Access (1 hour):

- Naomi del Storr (00:59:58 remaining)

As soon as Mark closed his Tome, Naomi strode past him into the hallway, seemingly anxious to get out of the street. She waited until he had closed the door before pulling down her cowl. Her hair was tied into a low bun, and she smiled at him as she fixed the hair that had gotten out of place beneath the hood of her cloak.

“Smart to bound the time limit,” she said, “but really…letting a college mage into your house just because they have a pretty face? You should know better.”

Her smug attitude darkened Mark’s mood. “I just extended a lot of trust by letting you in here. Throwing that fact back in my face is hardly a good way for us to start. And for the record, your looks have nothing to do with my decision to let you in, so please don’t assume that the circumstances of your appearance or your high Renown somehow make me okay with being insulted.”

Naomi looked at him in surprise. “That’s interesting. Usually, my high Charisma would stop someone from speaking to me like that. It never occurred to me that an unusually low Charisma would counteract the effect.”

Mark frowned. “I’m going to take that as an expression of academic curiosity and not a deliberate insult,” he said, opening the door again. “Now, are you going to dial down the condescension, or are you going to leave?”

She looked at him curiously. “My, that was quick. Aren’t you concerned that I might threaten you or your family if you don’t work with me?”

The thought had occurred to him. Hell, there was every chance in the world that Mark had just signed his own death warrant. But if Naomi was the kind of person who would put a knife to his throat to get what she wanted, they’d reach a point where that knife came out no matter what he did. He had secrets that needed to be protected, even if it made researching his class harder, and he needed to know whether she would respect his boundaries. Otherwise, it was better to die now and take his chances with resurrection. Then get the hell out of Palmyre before the Mage’s College realized he was still alive. “If there’s a chance of that happening now, that’s where we would have ended up eventually. I’m just saving us both time.”

She peered at him, considering his words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with so little regard for Renown,” she eventually said in a bemused manner. “Fortunately for you, I don’t subscribe to the heavy-handed approach favoured by some of my Mage’s College colleagues. I want to work with you, not against you, but I will not apologize for my manner of speaking. Instead, I suggest you ask yourself whether I’m being rude, or you’re being so sensitive that your insecurity is seeing slights where they don’t exist.”

“I’m not being sensitive. I’m—”

“Mark, I have 29 Charisma and I’m trying to be friendly,” she said, cutting him off. “If we’re rubbing each other the wrong way, do you really think I’m the one at fault?”

He paused, mouth open. That couldn’t be true, could it? Yeah, he got his hackles up sometimes, but it was always because someone said something that set him off. That was hardly the same thing as….

Aw, crap.

“I will take that under consideration,” he said, making sure to moderate his tone. “Can we please agree to hit the reset button? I don’t think we’ve gotten off to a good start.”

Intelligence +1, Charisma +1

I’m not saying you should always listen to people’s advice, but when they’re more intelligent, more experienced, better looking, more confident, older, wiser—basically better than you at everything—you should probably listen to what they have to say.

“Agreed,” Naomi said, having the good graces to not comment on the paper that appeared in Mark’s hand. Instead, she opted to drape her cloak over one arm and have a look around. As she did so, Mark noticed that she had been wearing the cloak inverted for some reason. Even now, he could see an intricate pattern sewn onto the cloak’s exterior, but he couldn’t make out the details in its folded state. She didn’t notice his inquisitive look, distracted as she was by the complete lack of furniture in the sitting room.

She turned and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. He shrugged. She frowned quizzically, then turned and headed down the hallway, glancing into the downstairs washroom before heading through the kitchen and out into the back garden. Mark followed her into the sun, watching her profile as she looked up at the house before returning her gaze to Mark.

“Why is it that your entire worldly possessions seem to consist of a half-empty backpack and a paper bag from a pastry shop?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We’re frugal?”

“Yes, I’m sure five people are quite comfortable living together in a house with no furnishings.”

He frowned at her casual inclusion of a fact about his family that she shouldn’t possess.

“Hang on,” he said. “How are you doing that? I need to know if it’s normal for a mage to know everything about me at will, because bad Charisma or not, that’s a huge roadblock for my ability to trust you. You’ve already shown that you can see my individual stats, my class, and now how many people are in my family. What else do you know?”

To her credit, Naomi cringed. She looked for a chair, but failing to find one, she placed her cloak on the ground and took a seat cross-legged on top of it, leaning her back against the house. Mark took the same spot he’d had when she knocked on the door.

“On this account, you are right, and I apologize,” she said. “I work in an environment where it’s expected that you will collect every scrap of information you can about the people around you in hopes of finding an exploitable weakness. Casually displaying mundane portions of that knowledge is a piece of Mage’s College politics that you grow accustomed to doing.”

“That’s really shitty and also a terrible justification,” Mark noted.

“I know. I recognize that the minutiae of one’s class are normally only shared with loved ones, and in the interest of gaining your trust, I won’t investigate your Tome again without permission.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That doesn’t answer my question of how you were doing it, though. I’m a little concerned about my intimate details being laid bare to any mage I bump into.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” she said, waving away his concern. “It may seem like I know a lot about you, but it’s only the product of casting two spells. One that lets me see a more detailed set of information when I inspected a person—like their base stats, species, age, et cetera—and a different one that allowed me to see the pages of your Tome when you granted me access to the house. If you’d kept it tilted away from me, I couldn’t have seen anything, but I had enough of a view to make out five names on the list. They were all under the full permissions category, so I assumed they were the occupants.”

“Can any mage do that?” he asked with concern.

She let out a bark of laughter. “Not in their wildest dreams. I’m an eṉakkumancer. A Tome mage.”