Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 1.4: Dragon's Breath

The man had pale skin and pale eyes. He wore a white shirt and black pants with lots of pockets on them. Various little tools peeked out from the pockets.

"Good afternoon," He smiled a crooked-toothed smile, "would you like a necklace for your girl, my good man? Or perhaps the wife? Or even for yourself? These are stones from the edge of the Stretch, dug up from the depths of the ground, the stones made from the breath of a dragon."

Jack bent down and picked up necklace with an iridescent green and yellow stone at the end. "Dragon's breath?" he said.

"Aye. When a dragon lets out its last breath, the magick congeals and turns into a stone forever. If you take the green one, there will be prosperity to harvest and good luck, too."

"You carved these?" Jack set it down and pointed to the rest. "Or do they come like this?"

"Aye, I carved them. They come rough and it takes great precision to carve dragon's breath. They can crack easily and all the hard work of finding them will have been lost."

Mystical, magical, possible with some benefits of keeping it on the person—that was just the kind of things the rich would adore. He could really hype this up and the man could make more than he could ever dream of. Jack eyed the man's body, thin, and probably didn't get much food. Maybe made a tiny bit here and there, barely getting by. He decided this was his man.

"How much for this?" He pointed to the green one.

"Five fellings and fifty twids."

"What if I told you I can help you make a thousand instead?"

The man laughed. "I would say you should go piss yourself."

"I'm Jack Ogswold," Jack held out his left hand, "owner of The Kaleidoscope Gallery."

The man's eyes widened. "It's me pleasure!" he said, and they shook left hands. "The Ogswold? Renowned seller of wonderful, otherworldly art?"

Goat's dung on me day. Jack Ogswold? Really? The man? This one? Looks so young!

Jack smirked. "It is he. I was just looking for one more show for next week. I am offering you a place."

The man did a little jig. "I'm gonna piss meself, golly-ho!" he said and beamed ear to ear. "You would-w-would really do that? Just a street seller?"

Jack nodded. The man's reaction was what he was hoping for. "Come to this very pillar again tomorrow at ten sharp. Simon, who works for me, middle-aged, gray-hair, fine chap, will pick you up and take you to get fitted for a suit. And if you need anything, supplies, we can give that to you as well. There will be a workspace created for you just above the gallery so you can make a few more of these beautiful pieces to sell."

He slipped out his card and handed it to the stunned man.

"M-Mister—"

"Call me Jack."

The man looked like he would die and go to heaven. "Timothy," he whispered. "Ten tomorrow, here."

Jack nodded, waved to him and left.

Nay, Rick's ain't gonna believe me story! He's gonna think I found this card on the street or I'd just seen a ghost knowing that Rick.

Hearing this thought, Jack doubled back, bought the green necklace, paid him a hundred, and then left. At least the man could prove to his friend now that he didn't see the ghost of Jack Ogswold.

See, I'm a good man. Jack thought with a smug smile. He was Jack of all trades. Even the police officer he had in the palm of his hand. Maybe the day didn't start out well and still the migraines bothered him, but at least he could still find people that would bow their heads to him. They were under his spell which, of course, meant more money for him.

* * *

The train howled as it rolled out of the platform. Jack sat in the compartment with his chin in his hand, looking out the window. It would be a two-hour ride back home. He didn't have to back home, but he didn't have anything more to do in the city. Besides, it was due to rain. He took the necklace out of his pocket. The green and yellow iridescent stone reflected the cloudy day.

It was just a pretty green stone, he knew. Street sellers always exaggerated. Dragon's breath, yes, indeed. Jack knew dragons were a fairytale and that Eli would have to work for her ticket because there was no way she could prove herself. Simon had been pestering Jack about getting a day-off anyway. It would be just perfect if Eli would step in and take the load off the old man's shoulders.

He was rubbing the stone with his thumb when he heard a thought voice.

What a long way from home.

Jack lifted his head and looked around. He was the only one in this compartment. There could be someone he had passed before on this train somewhere close by. But that was highly unlikely. 

With a sigh, he went back to staring out the window. Copper-toned cityscapes rolled by, gradually turning hazier until the white fog thickened so much nothing of the city could be found, until, the train came to a tunnel and all went dark. The lights came on in the rain. For the remainder until the last thirty minutes, it would be darkness.

Ghost Pass, the mountain pass was called. The reason? It was so dark that you could see your reflection and sometimes the reflections of people who rode the train a long time ago but were actually dead. Jack, of course, found this ridiculous. He also found his face looking rather annoyed. Making a face at himself, he fingered the necklace again, looking at the cuts in the stone. There was some level of professionalism here.

You don't even know where you're going.

Jack grimaced. The voice was hard to tell the gender, but he guessed it was a woman. About fifty. Probably had kids. Maybe with kids. Maybe talking about the future. A long way from home, don't know where they're going, Jack was once a kid who didn't know what to do with himself. So, he turned to pickpocketing and then found the art of deception. Somehow, he ended up selling art and made more money than he ever set eyes on.

"How did that happen?" he mumbled.

It was probably just a chance.

Blinking, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Was he finally becoming a loony? Hearing voices for real now? Not real voices, but fake voices? He waited for a moment, listening both with his ears and with his mind, but there were only the sounds of the train running across the tracks and his own empty thoughts.

I'm probably just tired. He pocketed the necklace and settled into the seat as best he could. Setting his watch's alarm for one hour, he closed his eyes to rest. The migraine kept him awake for a while, but soon it subsided and when it did, Jack slipped into unconsciousness.