Chapter 8: Out of the pancake…

Walking up to the small shop he’d come to call home in the past couple days, Dantes heard a passionate voice.

“But Fiona! I love you! I wa-”

Opening the door, Dantes discovered a beet red Mitty, frozen like a deer in the headlights, a battered book in hand, and a very eager Delphi with pen and paper in hand, writing furiously.

“Ah, Dantes. Just in time for supper. Yup.”

“What were you doing just now? Also what’s for supper?”

“Nothing, nothing, just helping Delphi out with some stuff. Uhhh, spiced pancakes for supper.”

“CAKE?! That was fast! I thought you said it would take a while!” An unexpected development, but a welcome one to be sure, Dantes thought to himself.

“No, it’s a pancake. They’re different from cake. Should still be good though, I hope.” Mitty rushed off to the kitchen, slightly red still. It was an odd look for a cat.

Head drooping slightly with disappointment, Dantes took notice of Delphi, who had put her pen down by now, and was watching the events with an impish grin.

“Hello again. Glad your date went well,” she remarked slyly. That elicited a yell from the kitchen, but nothing more.

“Yes, yesterday was great! I had no idea steak was so tasty! Also, those potatoes were completely different from the ones down at the dock.”

“It’s all in how you prepare them. I bet they just boil them in water and throw on some salt and call it done. So, you’re a dockworker? You must’ve been busy today with the Spitfire.” Delphi was shuffling together the paper sprawled all over the table.

“You know about that? Pretty busy, but it’s fun work.”

“Fun? That’s an interesting take. But yes, the Spitfire brings in all sorts of stuff from abroad. I expect many merchants will have been waiting on its arrival for some time.”

“What sort of stuff? I have a job with them later. The quartermaster said to meet him at midnight but not to tell any… one, oh.” Dantes realised a bit too late.

“I won’t tell anyone don’t worry. HEY MITTY HEAR THAT? DANTES HAS A JOB FOR THE SPITFIRE TONIGHT! DON’T TELL ANYONE THOUGH!”

Shocked, he tried gesturing at her to be quieter, but got only laughter in response.

“Don’t worry Dantes, everyone knows the Spitfire doesn’t always carry things out, uhh, above board, so to speak. A lot of the spice trade is done like that. Can I call you Dan by the way?”

“Oh… I just wanted to do a good job…”

Seeing she may have gone a bit too far Delphi backpedalled a bit.

“Don’t worry Dan, everyone knows already and I won’t tell anyone. I’ll make it up to you some time. But your question from earlier. The Spitfire really does bring everything. Many of the boxes are enchanted to hold more on the inside, but the weight adds up still. Ink and paper for example. A man named Horn up north makes the paper, only place you can get manaless paper as far as I know. Then you got other things, like alchemist’s glassware, enchanter’s ink, spooky looking candles, ethically sourced human skulls, orphan tears. You know the sort.” Seeing the look of confusion on his face, she expanded. “The candles are for fortune tellers mostly. Those hacks need to appear mystical so they can fool people into getting their fortunes read,” she added, as though that cleared everything up.

It didn’t, really, but it completely left Dantes’ mind as Mitty came back into the room with a steaming pile of something, presumably pancakes.

“I already had some, so go ahead and start without me.”

Not needing anything more, Dantes almost tore into them, but remembered his fork and knife after a harsh glare from Mitty.

Taking a tentative first bite, he found himself following with another one before he even realized. It was much more subtle than the steak, in a way he found difficult to describe. There was spice there and something else. He could taste something fruity, dancing around on his tongue. Separately, all the tastes were not anything impressive, but they joined together harmoniously, manifesting in the fluffy disc that lay before him.

“So uhh, this is sorry for yelling at you yesterday, I guess…” Mitty was fidgeting with her black apron, gaze averted.

“It’s fine Mitts. This is great! Almost as good as that steak yesterday!”

“Really? I actually changed the recipe a little bit, so I’m glad it worked out.”

“Don’t let her fool you Dan, we were working on this for a good couple hours in the afternoon and we just reused the batter from the last try. She knew it would be good.” Delphi cut in from out front. “Anyhoo, I should get back soon. I’ll tell Joss to keep an eye out for you tonight. Stop by again some time Mitts, we can go to the market or something. Oh, and take this. Read it tomorrow. Not today.” She handed Mitty a letter, sealed with red wax, which got stuffed in her pocket.

And with a single donk of the dented entry bell, Delphi left, carrying a tuneless song.

“Soooo, what sort of stuff are you doing tonight?”

“I don’t know, Mitts, and it was supposed to be secret anyhow. Probably moving something though since that’s what I’m good at.”

“Ooh, sounds shady. I’m coming! When are we going?” Mitty picked up the dishes and deposited them into the sink, which was just a basin with a plug at the bottom and a reservoir overhead.

“WE aren’t going anywhere. The quartermaster said not to tell anyone, so WE can assume he doesn’t want extra people around.”

“But, I’m sure he won’t mind a cat watching from the dark.”

There was something in her voice that made him suspect he was trapping himself, but he took the bait anyway. “Yes, but you’re a human now, so they will notice. I don’t want to mess up my first big job because you’re bored.”

The permanent grin plastered to her face grew wider still. “Check this out. Boom, pockets!” she said, putting her hands in the newly added pockets in her midnight black dress. Her hands went much deeper than reason indicated they could. “But that’s not the best part! Check this out.” Mitty pulled out a stone from her pocket with a doodle on it. A rune, he corrected himself. He’d heard about them at the docks.

“Fine I’ll bite, what does it do?” he sighed.

A small breeze wafted through the room, and suddenly before him stood a black cat, grooming her paws in snide victory. “Delphi gave it to me,” she purred.

Slightly jealous, but still somewhat concerned, he shot back. “You won’t faint again will you?”

“Nope, apparently it only gets bad if you lose all your mana. The stone took just enough to turn me back, and is siphoning off just enough so I don’t turn human again. I can turn back whenever I want, too. It itches like fleas though,” she said, scratching under her chin. “Apparently, I could learn to do it without a rock, but it takes a lot of practice.”

“No fair, I want one,” he whined.

“Find your own enchantress to owe you a favour. She gave me that for my work today. Also you can’t use mine because you have more mana than me apparently. I asked.”

Slightly put out, he made for his bed upstairs.

“I’m taking a nap. Wake me up if you think I’ll be late.”

He heard her grumbling downstairs, but he was tired from all the sun and work, and he wanted to be at his best for his first big job. Apparently, it could involve activity.

***

The red moon was a cheshire smile nearing its apex in the night sky. The dim lighting cast deep shadows in bloody contrast against the city streets. The night was tense like a strung bow, but silent like a hunter. Its light betrayed two forms stealing away into the night, one large and obvious, with no attempt at subtlety, the other small and graceful, barely a shadow in the gloom.

They made their way to the docks silently, but not stealthily. The big one trying to be stealthy would only attract more unwanted attention. The small one slipped into the shadows as they approached a nondescript building: almost a hovel, but built solidly enough to dissuade any unwanted visitors. A knock on the door caused a slit to open up, and the large one was admitted entry by other forms in the dark.

A few minutes pass, and three figures leave. The big one from before, this time with a large box carried over one shoulder. The box was wooden, but fortified with metal bands etched with runes faintly glowing in the red light. While handled with careless ease, the thump of the man’s gait betrayed the box’s weight, every other step causing the ground to tremble ever so slightly.

He was accompanied by a slightly smaller, but very dangerous looking individual, cloaked, but the gleam of polished metal could be seen from underneath at the right angle. The cloak’s hood hid his face in shadow, but his posture betrayed his experience, poised for combat at the drop of a hat.

The third was dwarfed by the other two. Though not particularly short, he was built like a skeleton, with sunken eyes and gaunt disposition. He led the way, but no torch was struck, nor words exchanged.

In silence, the shadow followed, unnoticed by all but the other denizens of the night. A tabby cat curled up on a barrel, a pair of gleaming eyes gazing back from the depths of an alleyway, an owl taking off soundlessly into the night sky. The group weaved through the alleys, avoiding the main roads in circuitous fashion, attracting no major attention.

Past unlit homes and abandoned stalls alike the group crept, the normal sounds of the city at night refusing to touch them for now, until…

A fifth actor enters the scene unnoticed on the low terraced rooftop of a house. A nightjar’s trill breaks the silence twice, and then no more. In the distance, a response.

The small man glances up nervously but sees nothing and gestures the others to hurry, but the spell is fading. Already the calm certainty of silence is evaporating, and the normal sounds of Esthar’s nights return, at first muffled, but becoming more and more present. A horse’s whinny, a couple’s argument, a dog’s bark.

Torchlight is visible ahead, and the three sidestep into another side alley. Shouts sound in the distance and the small one is very nervous now. A breeze fills the alley, and the spell is shattered.

“I can’t hold it any longer. Too many are on our tracks. Quickly! Time is not our friend here!” the small one hissed. A different glow fills the alley, and the three take off with improbable speed and grace, padding along quietly, but twice as quickly as before.

Dodging away from the encroaching torchlight, the group was progressing towards the docks, though slowly, as the route they had to take was far from ideal.

A nightjar circled, watching from far above with sharp eyes. Torches lighting up the darkness all converging into one spot.

The group was close now, just one more turn away from the water, where an unlit skiff waited, unmanned. It was one of several, in fact, for the events thus far had been anticipated, to some extent.

Ahead, voices, and a cry. “There they are!”

The group take that one last turn towards the water, and… a dead end. A dirt wall blocked the way, as high as the surrounding houses, and polished to a gleam.

“Shit, they blocked it off! We’re done…”

The light grew brighter still, and the small one sank to his knees against the wall. The bigger one gave an experimental kick to the wall which yielded nothing, then grimly drew his blade from beneath his cloak.

The biggest one merely looked as a mooring line sailed through the air over the wall and landed at his feet, lightly slapping the small one on top of his head.

“You taking that?” he asked.

In a mixture of confusion and disbelief, he clamoured up the wall, indicating the swordsman do the same.

From atop the wall the small man hissed.

“Leave the box, you’ll never make it over carrying that.”

The entrance filled with light and half a dozen men in metallic dark blue robes flooded into the narrow alleyway.

“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE SULTAN!”

“How about we do this.” Dantes swung the reinforced box back once and HEAVED it over the 12-foot wall.

The small man on top of the wall yelped and dodged out of the way as the box sailed past him, followed quickly by Dantes, who scrambled up so quickly, a lizard would blush in shame.

The small man was shocked, but recovered quickly enough to slice through the rope in one motion and hop onto the main street where he quickly made his way to the water where the swordsman was already unmoored and waiting for their arrival.

Past them both streaked a shadow which made its home on the prow of the skiff, ignoring the shooing from the swordsman.

“You have the box? Good, let’s be off. Ignore the cat, we don’t have time. I’m almost tapped, so you’ll have to activate the enchantment, Harq.”

The swordsman grumbled, but put his hand on the side of the boat briefly, then started rowing. The boat slid though the water, slowly at first, but seemed not to slow down between strokes, constantly accelerating. One moment stretched into five as the explosive rower made wake.

A whizz sounded from the rapidly distancing docks, followed by a splash in the water 5 paces to the right, and another one almost 20 paces back, but nothing further. The frantic paddling continued for a few more seconds before slowing to a more rhythmic pace.

Soon the lights and shouts of shore faded into the distance and the silent gloom of night overtook all. Only the gentle patter of water dripping from the oars and the distant chirr of a nightjar broke the promise of silence tonight.