Inkling

6.5 The Scorpion and the Frog

12:05 P.M.

Lincoln was not entirely sure what he was expecting. Probably something more along the lines of an old man, bent over and shuffling. Maybe someone who at least looked wise. Not the tall, blond fellow who sat before them in an old armchair, reading a thick book; silver framed glasses perched on his nose. He hardly looked older than Adam. The room was hardly big enough for the armchair, let alone the bed tucked into the other corner. Books and papers were stacked in every possible crevice.

"Miss Jennings?" He looked up, startled. He closed the book and tossed it onto a precariously situated stack of books. "How can I be of service?"

He looked disheveled, waistcoat unbuttoned, light blue shirt half untucked. Which brought Lincoln to his own appearance. His paisley waistcoat was misbuttoned, somehow, and his pants were muddy at the knees. He inched behind Sophia ever so slightly. At least he wasn't Max, with blood still on his face.

"Mr. Knot, my deepest apologies for showing up this way. But we are in need of your knowledge." He cocked an eyebrow at this and for a moment Lincoln thought he would ask them to leave. Part of him wanted to. Part of his wanted to leave and go home, deal with all of this another day. Experience had taught him, however, that one could not put off the inevitable. Especially if the inevitable was a magical curse in one's soul.

"You will need to be more specific." Mr. Knot crossed his arms and leaned against the door jam, clearly having no intention of inviting them in.

"Tunnels." Max piped up, coming to stand next to Sophia. Knot looked Max up and down a couple times, quirking an eyebrow and saying nothing. "We have some business with the faeries. Questions about a dead man, mysterious books, curses. Casual stuff."

Lincoln didn't like the way Knot was looking at Max. Like he was watching a dog perform a trick, which is to say: he was vaguely amused but also incredibly bored.

"I know of many tunnels. And even more books." He seemed to noticed that his guest were not all, in fact, acquainted to him and stuck out his hand impulsively.

"My name is Gideon Knot, procurer of odd items and safe keeper of anything magical. You may call me Gideon." He seemed relieved when Lincoln grasped his hand.

"Lincoln Locke. Clerk and walkabout." Gideon tried to smile, but it looked painful.

"Max Wayde." Max shook his hand vigorously. "Grave watcher and General fuck up."

At this Gideon actually laughed, an open mouthed grin that sent his eyebrows up to his hairline. Lincoln scowled. Max looked incredibly pleased with himself. He turned to Lincoln, still smiling, like they should be sharing some sort of inside joke. His smiled dropped a little upon seeing Lincoln's expression and Lincoln felt guilt pull at his gut. He didn't want to be the reason for Max to frown.

"He also has a fondness for amphibians." Lincoln said, poking at Max's shoulder. Max grinned again, though sheepishly this time.

"That's a story you must tell me someday." Gideon said before inviting them into his 'living room' which was really just the corner with the armchair and stacks of books in front of the door. It was bigger than it appeared, there was magic there, but it was still rather small. Small enough that Lincoln found himself shoulder to shoulder between Max and Sophia. Incidentally discovering he was the tallest in the room.

"So, the tunnels?" Max said after they had all been served tea from a kettle that Gideon hinted would never run dry nor cool down. Lincoln made a mental note to remember that.

"Ah, yes." Gideon hopped up from his armchair, setting his tea atop a stack of books that nearly toppled but steadied itself. Clearly enchanted as well.

"I find myself wishing to help you fellows, but alas I am at a fault. It is against the Order's regulations to share the location of such tunnel openings with younglings such as yourselves." He handed Lincoln a piece of paper entitled Hidden Tunnel and Room Guidelines. Lincoln tucked it into the breast pocket in his jacket and Gideon winced, clearly not meaning to part with it entirely.

"Well, you see, Mr. Knot, I am a clerk for the Order. The main office, actually. Off Mott Street, surely you know the one." Gideon's face drained of color, which hardly seemed possible, he was so pale. "See, Mr. Knot. I see at least six violations of the Order's regulations just in this tiny space. Actually, this tiny space, this room that does not actually exist which you are so obviously proud of, is against regulation in itself. Then we have all of the charms at work inside. Stabilizing charms, for you books. I'd love to see the permits for those. Then the tea kettle? I'm assuming you know that for your own use that is perfectly fine. But serving to guests? Guests with whom you are negotiating business? That is surely not allowed unless you have taken the proper magic exams. Which are free, I might add."

Gideon swallowed hard, reaching for something on a stack of books, knocking a book off the top of the stack. It caught itself before it reached the ground and floated back to the pile. Lincoln cocked an eyebrow, smirking.

"Shall I go on? Or would you like to provide us with the information we seek and we will simply be on our way?" Lincoln slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall, smug. Max looked up to him in awe and Lincoln found himself barely concealing a smile. Sophia crossed her arms looked at Gideon, somehow even more pleased to see him flustered than Lincoln was.

"Yes, well, you see, it dep - it, uh, it depends on your business with the faeries?" Gideon was hugging a book to his chest.

"The dead." Max said flatly.

"Ah. Then you would want the entrance off of Greenwich Street. A bit tricky to find, you have to look hard but you are, well, a very clever group."

"Any tips?" Sophia asked softly. Gideon inflated, clearly excited to feel necessary again.

"Well, I would recommend looking between a window and a barrel." Gideon sunk back into his chair as they left. He called something to their backs when they were halfway down the hallway. "Mr. Locke, have you heard the story of the scorpion and the frog?"

They were in the lobby when Max grabbed Lincoln by the elbow.

"What is he talking about?" Max's accent was so soft sometimes that Lincoln had to listen for it. "What story?"

"The scorpion and the frog?" Lincoln looked at Sophia and she looked away. They both knew it but she wasn't going to tell it. "It's a fable. There's a frog by a river. A scorpion comes along and says: "Frog, will you give me a ride across the river?"

"The frog looks at this poisonous thing and says: "Why should I trust you, what is to keep you from killing me?"

"So the scorpion says: "If you die, I die too. Why would I sacrifice myself to kill you?"

"The frog considers this for a moment before saying: "Because it's who you are." But the frog also considers the fact that they both want to get across the river, the frog is the only one who can so he feels important, useful. The frog agrees to take the scorpion across the river. Halfway across the scorpion stings the frog and they both die."

"Interesting ... Why would Gideon say that?"

"He thinks I'm the scorpion, saying I won't kill him, that I won't bring him down if he helps me."

"So what?"

"He's reminding me that if he goes down, we go down with him."