Promised

What Remains to be Seen

It began by a book stack tucked against store windows, spines arranged so they bent backwards. Admittedly, it wasn't the books that caught Augur's eye, but the garish, glittering sigils adorning the pages.

Swirling things, more art than written language. A flowing script that caught the eye and refused to let go.

Who would deface books in this manner? Who would buy them?

Contemplating the legality of vandalizing books, head tilted so his chin rested upon the folds of his cravat, triply folded and pressed just this morning, Augur failed to notice the rather imposing figure staring at him.

Perhaps this is why, when the window fogged and a faint "hello" manifested, he promptly fell into the snow.

"Mein Gott!", squeaked out, voice octaves higher than desired.

Tinkling, crunching, a voice. Each softer than the last, the final distorted, reverberating in Augur's ears.

"Bist du in ordnung?"

Familiar, oh so familiar. Aha! German. Yes, yes, now to just recall how to speak it.

"Ja...Ja"

Laughter, airy and bright, accompanied a gloved appendage abruptly thrust into Augur's sight, shook before him as though banishing all thoughts of refusal.

"Wunderbar. It'd be oh so terrible for business if you died on my doorstep. The back door is generally better. You get to look at the ocean that way."

Taking the hand, which effortlessly pulled him to his boots, Augur brushed snow from his rump. Trailing his eyes along his companion, he was surprised to find a man a few hands taller than himself. Silvery eyes full of mist, fiery hair tied into ribboned plaits, and those clothes!

How could anyone bear to wear a toga and nothing beside in this cold!? Notwithstanding it was made of fur, the man looked more wraith than living flesh.

"Do you not feel cold as we do spirit?"

Red hair curled around the spirit-man's fingers, held against the light. It blossomed and he smiled, "Spirit? Sir, you mistake me! I am but a servant of a bookshop, nothing more."

Snow trickled, tickling his feet. His hat broke the remainder, scattering flakes into the streets.

"Bookkeep eh? What kind of bookkeep encourages customers to die and defaces books?"

"One which makes an impression."

Augur whisked his tongue over his canines.

"Boars by the by."

"What?"

The spirit-man bent to retrieve Augur's tophat, "My clothing. You were staring at it as you tidied yourself. Alongside your quip, I assumed you were curious as to its contents. It was sewn from bolts of pressed boar fur."

"A local custom then?"

Smiling, the spirit-man extended his hand, firmly holding the hat towards his shop.

"Enjoy a cuppa with me and mayhap I'll tell you."

Humming, Augur considered.

His errand in this place had proven futile, and the cold was starting to seep to his trousers. The shop was well lit, and appeared well traveled, so any ill intentions would swiftly thwarted be.

"Do you have Assam on hand?"

"Somewhere in the cupboards. If not, it's a quick trip to the market."