Chapter 90 – Preparing the Heist

It took some convincing to get Nurea to cough up her contact in the Syndicate, but with Nicolus’s cajoling, she finally did. Afterward, she gave Nicolus fair warning that someone might be coming after them. Likely, Nurea would have them both out of the Torrviol shortly after Mirian. Hopefully, that would keep Sulvorath even busier.

Mirian spent a few more hours in Torrviol spreading rumors and taking out a loan so she could purchase artifice materials. Based on the travel times of the Akanan airships she’d researched, Mirian was pretty sure Sulvorath couldn’t change how fast he made it to Torrviol, but it also wasn’t something she was going to risk. She boarded the train while maintaining a minor disguise spell, and made sure to avoid the under-cover spy that worked at the train station. No doubt it was obvious she wasn’t staying in Torrviol, but hiding her departure times would make her that much more difficult to track down.

Nurea’s contact was named Ravatha, and Nurea had reluctantly given Mirian a code phrase she could use to get a real conversation with her. Ravatha owned a small pastry shop near the train station. It only took a few minutes to walk to.

The shop was innocuous enough. It had the same colored plaster and wood finish as the nearby buildings, and had two nice planters full of bright flowers in front of it. The inside smelled fantastic, too. It may have been a front for criminal dealings, but they also made excellent pastries.

Mirian told the man working the counter, “Hi, I’m here to see Ravantha. She asked for some information about the seasonal cider from Torrviol.” When the man’s facial expression shifted subtly, she continued. “She’ll want to know the Ton Ton apples are dealing with a scarabite infestation.”

The man at the counter blinked at her, face stony.

Mirian said, “You did hear me, right? Seasonal cider, Ton Ton, scarabite.”

The man sighed and said, “Kid, I don’t know you. Whatever you think you’re doing, you’re in over your head. Go home.”

Mirian’s temper flared. It was so annoying to be treated as a child when she’d led a Gods’ damned battle and won. She placed her hand on the spine of her spellbook to tap into the catalyst, then used raw magic to pull a nearby knife from one of the cutting boards. Gathering kinetic force, she plunged it into the wooden counter about three inches deep, fast enough that a curl of smoke rose from where the blade had entered.

The man pulled out his concealed pistol.

Mirian stared at him. “Try it,” she said.

He took her at her word and tried to pull the trigger. Mirian couldn’t stop a bullet with raw magic yet, but she could use magnetic force to prevent the trigger in the gun from moving. After giving him a few moments to try, she yanked the revolver away from him, then opened it up and poured the bullets on the counter. “I want to see Ravatha. Please,” she spat.

The man looked at the knife, then the bullets on the counter then said, “Yeah. Fine,” and went into the back. A minute later, he said, “Upstairs. Leave the spellbook in that drawer over there,” he said, gesturing at a small desk at the foot of the stairs.

“Sure,” said Mirian with a fake smile, and stuffed it inside.

Ravantha could have been Nurea’s sister, not because they looked all that similar, but because they wore the same stern face and cultivated the same attitude. She wore the wand and pistol at her belt casually, and her steely blue eyes matched her steel gray hair.

“Nurea doesn’t send other people to do her business. Explain,” Ravantha said as an introduction.

“I asked her for your information. She gave it to me because I’m working on a project that will benefit the Sacristar family in the long term, but I have things I need to do first. I need to hire an arcanist.”

Ravantha examined Mirian. “Talk to the arcanist guilds.”

“I need someone who can examine and then disable wards by the Temple of the Four.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow.

“Also, a driver and laborer who can help nab… a body. And keep silent about it.”

“People notice when bodies go missing,” Ravantha said. “Live ones especially, but dead too.”

“Not if they’re dead and scheduled for incineration,” Mirian said. “If everyone plays their part, this operation causes you no problems and has no political repercussions. I get something no one will miss, and the people I’m taking it from don’t even know it’s gone missing.”

Ravantha sat at her desk–moving in such a way that her eyes never left Mirian–and opened up a thick ledger. “How long do you need this crew?”

“The driver and laborer? A few hours. The arcanist? A whole day.” Mirian actually needed the arcanist longer this cycle and didn’t need the other two yet, but she wanted to get a decent idea of the price and what the negotiation process would be like.

“A thousand doubloons,” Ravantha said.

Mirian sighed. “I was hoping we could settle quickly at a reasonable price.”

Ravantha shrugged. “You’re free to find someone else to provide you services.”

Mirian realized what she’d really just been told was, ‘no.’ The price was nowhere near what Nurea had said it would be. “Very well,” Mirian said. There was always next cycle. She wasn’t in any hurry, anyways. Her mastery of soul magic would need to progress significantly before she could disable the celestial runes.

She spent the rest of the cycle doing just that, and making several refinements to her designs. South of Palendurio, merchants in the market square heard a loud crash, and then a fire broke out above the gearmaster’s shop. Two more strange fires broke out in Palendurio, and another in Cairnmouth on First Cairn hill. Strange debris was found at one of the fires, but the fire had damaged it too badly to tell much more.

***

Mirian entered Ravantha’s shop, this time, using a minor disguise to appear older and used the three words she needed in the code phrase. This time, when the shopkeeper looked her over, he didn’t see a reason to refuse.

“Upstairs. Leave your spellbook and any other weapons you have in the drawer.”

This time, Mirian noticed there were a set of glyph switches underneath the counter as she came around. Ah. So he can send silent messages to Ravantha. By pissing him off last cycle, she’d accidentally sabotaged any chance she had at getting the Syndicate woman to cooperate with her.

“Nurea doesn’t send other people to do her business,” Ravantha said as she had before.

This time, after her explanation, Mirian asked only to hire the arcanist, and kept the details more vague. “If they’re good at breaking or suppressing wards, that’s best,” she said.

“I can arrange that. The rate is ten gold doubloons a day. That provides for materials—within reason.” She hesitated, then said, “What you really want for ward suppression is one of the anti-magic devices in the Labyrinth.”

Mirian raised an eyebrow. “And you… have one? For sale, perhaps?”

“Sadly, no. You’d have to go to the Labyrinth to get one. But I am interested in buying.”

She cocked her head. “You know the location of one?”

“I do. You’re interested?”

“Very.”

“Our ward specialist, the one you’re interested in, has come up with a device. Preliminary tests indicate it will be able to do what you want—at a greatly reduced risk and price for both of us. You are familiar with the Labyrinth’s… interesting properties?”

Mirian was—sort of.

After Ravantha’s explanation, she pretended she was going to accept the job and travel north to meet her contact, but instead buried herself in research on the Labyrinth, using the cult’s contacts to check out volumes from the various libraries in Cairnmouth, or simply getting them to just purchase the books. She was glad the cult was easy to convince of her contact with the Ominian, because they became very free with their money after that.

The Labyrinth had certain rooms that were notorious. Some might simply prevent the ability of a person to cast arcane spells—like a suppression ward, but far more potent—while others could strip away energy from a person’s aura. Adventurous individuals (or suicidal ones) had gone into these rooms on purpose to try and find and take back the devices doing this. However, no one had actually been able to recreate the full effect of the rooms, though it had led to advancements in ward sequence technology.

Mirian didn’t think the Syndicate arcanist’s device would be useful for saving Arenthia, but it would be incredibly useful. The antimagic shockwave from the Divine Monument exploding had taken down the two Akanan airships. What if she could deploy something like that locally? Or better yet, figure out the glyph sequences and turn the ability to strip away an aura into a spell? What were the limits of such fields, anyways?

“You’re reading a lot,” Lecne commented one evening, nodding at the pile of books scattered over Mirian’s desk.

“I’ve recently become very interested in the Labyrinth. We might be able to use it.”

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“To save Arenthia?”

“No. To save the world. What if the entropic field generators—the one that can strip away mana—could also suppress the volatility of the leylines?”

“Oh Gods, leyline topography,” Lecne said. “Rather would die than try to have to learn it. So, funny thing. You know who was really interested in the leylines?”

Mirian turned. “A certain high priestess? Perhaps of an unconventional denomination?”

Lecne winked at her.