UNMARKED

11: The Underground

The mage's lair was just what one might expect of a cliche fortune teller. Crystal globes in hues of blue and purple cast a dim glow on the gaudy curtains and tablecloth. The light reflected warmly off the various golden artifacts that decorated the small cluttered room.

    The difference was that this man was the real. Blayre could feel it in his magic with its shrouded undertones. She cringed, feeling the delicate sensation of it touching her - even knowing that he could not read her. Most of those with magic-resistance gave off false histories or predictions when encountered by diviners. But Blayre had always been an anomaly for them - a black impenetrable wall.

    Mortimer Letecha's eyebrows twitched slightly, the only indication that he had come up against her magic resistance.

    "What brings you here?"

    Caval offered her the only chair in the room, and took up a position behind her.

    "Thank you," She said, voice barely a whisper. Suddenly her heart was pounding. Ainslee was supposed to be here with her. Ainslee was supposed to do the talking.

    "What brings you here, lass?" Morty repeated, his voice surprisingly gentle when she had expected him to be rough and volatile.

    "I..." She couldn't find the words. Ainslee had gone over what they would say at least a hundred times. But she hated this. She was the observer. Ainslee the talker. Fletcher the fighter. She should have feigned a sacrifice of her ticket and sent Ainslee in there ahead of her.

    "And why have you brought one of the most powerful mages in the realm?"

    Caval tightened his grip on the back of her chair.

    Calm. Calm. Focus. She belatedly hoped that Caval had enough sense and training to enact a basic shield against the diviner, but pushed the thought away. Caval had to have had the best training in the capital. Or he would not be the top contender as Crown Mage. Mages were taught to put up mental barriers against divining mages.

    Divining outside of Crown business was extremely deplorable. And being an unmarked and a diviner. Well, she assumed Mortimer Letecha had either a very wealthy sponsor, as was often the case in the gambling dens, or he hid his divining skill - Blayre frequently had to remind herself that though she could tell exactly what he could do with his magic, no one else around her had the uncanny ability.

    "I've friends in high places." Blayre said, forcing her most winning smile, and doing what she thought was her best eyelash batting. She probably looked ridiculous.

    "Mhmm."

    "Yes, well. I'm here because, because..." Twelve hells she couldn't do this. Caval's hand moved to her shoulder, offering her warmth and support.

    "You're here because I have information that you want."

She heard Caval's sharp intake of breath and felt his grip tighten on her shoulder.

She took a deep, calming breath. Buying herself time to respond. Did she give up the ruse? He couldn't be reading her - he must know somehow though. And she wasn't sure how much Caval knew. Perhaps she was overconfident in his ability to project a mental barrier. It didn't make sense.

"What information do you think I want, Letecha?"

"Someone who was in here before, let slip that they were looking for something before the ... how did she say it? 'Nasty mage-hunters got to it.'" Mortimer Letecha didn't bother to add exactly how this particular individual had allowed that fact to slip. But Blayre supposed that wasn't important enough to press him on. No, she had to get him to want to share the information with her. The method of obtaining it was irrelevant - even if he had done some illegal divining.

Surprise. Blayre tapped the table impatiently.

"And so, did you provide this lovely person with information?" Blayre inquired.

Mortimer smiled tightly and folded his hands on the table. "It was not in my best interest to do so."

"Oh?"

"This person acted as if she was on the side of the underground, but in reality..." He spread his hands out.

She wanted to press further. She wanted him to tell her who this person was, and why he distrusted her. She assumed that he was sponsored by someone powerful. Someone who kept the unmarked mage protected.

Well, not unmarked. She thought, glancing at his upturned wrist. Mismarked. And perhaps that was worse. He had all the freedoms of a marked mage.

    She decided it was time to take a risk. "So you read her. You decided based on that that you didn't trust her. And you... denied her the information?"

    "Fed her false information." He didnt flinch at her easy accusation. That was a good sign for them.

    "I see. Are you perhaps willing to share that information with us?"

    "In return for what?"

    Blayre tapped on the table again. Suddenly feeling more interested in the tablecloth than the conversation.

    "In return for our silence on the matter." Caval spoke up.

    Letecha began to laugh heartily, leaning back in his chair and exposing the scruffy underside of his neck. "I'm afraid you'll have to offer me something more than that, Crownies." He straightened his robe. "I'm quite protected here. Well funded. No one's touching me."

    "Then what can we offer you?" Blayre said quickly.

    "Protect the others. Keep your noses out of this district."

    "i can't promise that indefinitely." She wasn't sure if she could promise it at all. She had no authority. But perhaps having Caval here was a blessing in disguise. He was recogniseable. Important. He authenticated her.

    Letecha leaned back again. "Then give us a window. You Seekers will keep your noses out of the Moras district for the next five years."

    "One year." Caval interjected.

    "Four."

    "Two. And that's as much as we can offer."

    "Three." The diviner argued, leaning in toward them.

    Blayre shook her head. "Two's final. We don't have the authority to allow more than that."

    Letecha leaned back again. "Fine."

    "Good." Caval looked at his pocket watch, squinting at it in the dim lighting.

    "Now, we don't want to keep your other customers waiting. What do you know about the crystals?"

    Letecha stood and meandered over to a bulky and ornate dresser. The piece of furniture looked antique. He waved his hand over one of the knobs and it turned itself. The drawer opened and Blayre heard him rummaging through it.

    When the diviner turned around, there was a plain looking pouch in his hand. He dumped it carefully onto the table.

    Blayre's eyes narrowed at the objects. "Those aren't crystals."

    They weren't. They were iridescent and magnificently colorful, but the objects were shaped like shells.

    "Not yet," Letecha smiled. "But they could be. With the right magic."

    "What are they?" Caval asked, voice entranced.

    "My dear boy. These are dragon scales."