Getting Schooled

[Artemis Black]

Robert wasn’t certain what was going on, but it wasn’t entirely surprising that something had gone wrong with Artemis. The fool had a partially detached soul and he was running around likely getting stabbed and beaten on a regular basis. He came skidding to a halt a few steps away from the downed thief. He was forced to dodge a small crowd of ambling people who were surreptitiously staying just far enough away to avoid being considered involved.

He moved up past a rather tall elf and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Artemis reeked of spirit magics and Robert could see the faint remains of his binding work on the man’s face. “What in the Idols happened to him why is he-” Robert halted as he suddenly realized the anchors on Artemis' face were not the ones he had made. He poked Artemis firmly in the chest. “What did you do?” he demanded of the thief whose eyelids were fluttering open.

Artemis felt like he’d carried a sack of wriggling chickens across the entire city in a blizzard. Everything ached, felt frozen, and burned with latent pain all at the same time. He felt Robert’s finger on his chest like a glowing hot lance. He tried to shirk away but found he could do little but weakly glare at the man. “I fixed something, the threads were all wonky, coming apart. I stuck them back in,” he said in a near whisper as he struggled to catch his breath.

Robert stared at him blankly for a moment before his eyes widened and his face went paler than Artemis had ever seen. “You wrangled with your own soul, and just shoved it back in? Like some kind of hemp rope you can toss into a box?!” the ritualist hissed in a cold fury.

Artemis stared back at him and shrugged, unsure how to better explain exactly what he’d just done. “The frayed part is inside, I think it was being eaten. By the- you know, the voices,” he said sheepishly.

Robert blinked, his fury suddenly gone. “You heard the choir? How long did you hear it, has it been there this whole damn time?” he asked, his questions tumbling over each other.

Artemis nodded. “Since you put me back together the first time I think. The song is so frightening. I can’t hear them now, and I never want to again. I’d rather Deb take me than whatever that was,” he replied with a shiver of fear in his voice.

Robert scrubbed at his face, making shocked grunts and shaking his head repeatedly. Finally he reached into his pocket and produced a vial of silvery liquid. “Drink this, pretend this didn’t happen for a bit, come see me in two days. I have to get some old papers out and figure out what kind of bullshit allows a man to hear the Idols taken Eternal Choir of Salvation for days without going completely insane.”

Artemis took the vial, uncapped it, and downed the contents without asking any further questions. He trusted Robert to do his best for him, even if they were no longer direct associates. The silvery liquid tasted absolutely vile, but the taste was nothing compared to the sudden and complete sense of relaxation he experienced. After waiting a moment for the magic to suffuse him Artemis felt like he’d slept pleasantly for days and then woken up to eat and drink his fill of the most nourishing food.

He stood, hopping to his feet with all of his usual practiced dexterity. He gave himself a shake and looked at the people around him. “Uh, so I’m not sure why everyone’s here, but I appreciate it. Did you run all the way from the Hart Dáire? Wait, did Mila get you and Robert?! I knew she was fast but that's impressive." Artemis seemed to notice his bare hands suddenly. "By the way, does anyone know a good leather worker nearby?” he asked no one in particular.

[Ksenia]

“By all the listening idols, I am so sorry, Artemis,” Ksenia said quietly. “I apologize, I was most unaware that - my suggestion would lead to making you - ill.” She put a hand lightly on his shoulder, almost afraid that touching him would make him relapse. “Indeed, I asked Mila to request them both. I hoped Robert might assist, and Dáire could bear you to the Goose, if no other aid appeared.”

Ksenia looked over at Mila. “Thank you, for being so swift; I daresay I could never make that trip with such alacrity.” At Artemis’s startled expression, she frowned. “Ah, fuck. Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. I’ll try not to switch again.”

Slumping onto a nearby bench, Ksenia rubbed her ear surreptitiously. “As for leather workers, I don’t know. Ask Mr. O’Dell maybe?” She was trying to get her post-crisis jitters under control, but her fingers still wanted to fidget. “I only handle fabric, really.” A gurgle in her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten. “Mila, did you get any food, by any chance?"

[Mila Glade]

Mila had stood back while all of this was happening, watching as her mentor had hot the floor and had babbled like a child. Though she knew it was something serious - deadly serious - a part of her recoiled from the man who had been so sure of himself not moments before.

When everyone had done their part, Mila had stood silently by, watching with interest. If he died, she'd need a new teacher, she thought, rather coldly.

When this 'Robert' person gave Artemis the tonic and they talked about the 'Eternal Choir', Mila felt rather helpless. When Ksenia asked her about food she simply shrugged. "No one said anything about food." She pointed out. "I was busy running the length of the city."

[Artemis Black]

Artemis gave them a grin and went over to pick Ksenia up off the bench. “Come on then, you wanted kebabs, so we’ll have them. They’re delicious, I promise. Remember it didn’t happen, healer’s orders,” he said tugging at her gently. “What was going on there with how you talked though?” he asked her with a usual grin. “Also, Mila, I don’t know if I could win that race any more so I’m going to have to teach some more knife tossing. Make me feel better about something you don’t know yet,” he added, before starting to walk back towards the small eating area.

As he passed by Dáire he gave the man’s forearm a squeeze. “You are very strong, with a good chest for hugging. Give me another sometime, I’ll make it up to you and make sure Kat doesn’t make you a frog,” he said to the big elf with a wink. Then he ambled his way back into the stall, his practiced cloak of confidence smoothing over the terror at the edges of his eyes and the faint quavering in his voice.

Artemis purchased a set of six sizzling meat kebabs and distributed them with only minor dripping of grease onto his fingers. He raised his first in toast and took a large chunk from it. After carefully chewing the too hot piece of meat he gulped a large draught of cheap ale and visibly swallowed. He smacked his lips appreciatively. “A good choice, as for the leather, I don’t want to walk all the way up to O’Dell’s just to be sent all the way back to the west. May as well do some more work and wander around the market, see if we can get a lead on a stall that’ll do custom work,” he said before taking another large bite of his food with only his teeth.

“As I’m sure it’s bothering you, my mother was stabbed, some fellow with a knife, took her for our food. We were out for kebabs that day too. I never got to see her afterwards, or say goodbye. Found out much later there was no one who knew who she was so the watch took her body in for regular dumping. Didn’t even catch the bastard,” Artemis said shrugging as he took another drink. “Long time ago now though, nothing to do for it, didn’t think it’d hit me so hard,” he offered an apologetic smile to Ksenia.

“You really went all that way, like the winds beating the sunrise,” Artemis said suddenly giving Mila a shake of his head. “I think I might have something a bit more profitable for you to handle in another day or two. Don’t get slapped in irons before then trying to scrabble together coppers,” he added with a knowing smile.

[Ksenia]

Ksenia winced; the whole incident had made her much less receptive to trying the meat. He asked her about her shift in diction. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t feel like talking about - that - now,” she replied, watching him. He was putting up a good front, but he still looked a bit shaken.

He bought the kebabs, distributing them around, and appearing to genuinely enjoy them. “I can walk around looking for a leatherworker while you and Mila - work,” she offered, wanting to make up for her mistake. She still felt like a complete ass - and to lose her verbal filter at such a minor shock made her angry at herself.

Artemis explained that the last time he’d had kebabs, his mother had been killed and he’d never been afforded a chance for a burial or to say goodbye. Ksenia’s heart twisted; she suspected something traumatic had occurred to cause his reaction, but watching your mother die was worse than she’d thought. He tried to brush it off.

Ksenia reached over and patted his shoulder a bit tentatively as he complimented Mila on her speed. She still wasn’t sure what amount of physical contact was appropriate between friends, never really having had any - and especially not male friends. Ksenia was trying to make the effort; she hadn’t forgotten Artemis saying he’d just wanted to be held the night of his and Kat’s fight. Clearly, it was important to him; so as his friend, it should be important for her to remember.

The kebabs were tasty, though Ksenia’s guts complained. Too much fright and then food on top of it had given her a stomachache. It was your fault, her thoughts whispered, but she shoved them aside. “Any specifics on what I need to look for in a leatherworker? I’m guessing you want your armguards and bits replaced.” She propped her head on her hand, tilting it to look at him. “Let me know, and when you’d like to re- meet up, I mean, and I can give you the info I have then.”

[Mila Glade]

Mila tucked into her food, the running giving her quite the appetite. "When I got a bit more coin, I think I'd like some leather cladding, just until I learn how to not get hit when I fight." She licked her fingers, then looked directly at Artemis.

"What happened back there? You some kind of semi-undead? I've heard talk of the Eternal Choir, but never about the living."

[Artemis Black]

“I certainly started getting less scars when I bought some. Though the damn cuisse are expensive and get in the way all the time,” he said with a chuckle. “And I don’t really have the training to answer that question. I know I died, and then Robert, he’s a spirit ritualist, forced my soul back into my body and anchored it. He said it’s kinda like when a healer restarts someone’s lungs when they drown. Sure you’re dead if left like that, but afterwards your just alive again,” Artemis said shrugging.

“Though, apparently it wasn’t a completely perfect job and some bits were left unattached. So now I have some fraying, and I was hearing whatever this choir is. Lot’s of feeling like I should just lay down and let the end come. Dunno, but I’m still here, and Rob says to ignore it.” He gave a wide grin to show he was fully onboard with the plan.

“For leathers, we need someone who knows how to make the knife sheaths, the satchel attaches, and the little slots for things like tokens and coins. Stuff that can be done without ruining the durability. If you see someone that does detailed etching that’s usually a good sign.” Artemis chewed on his last piece of kebab thoughtfully. “They really are tasty, no wonder it was a reward,” he said more to himself than at any of his companions.


He looked around after he swallowed, offering a smile to the table. “When folks are done, we can get going I guess, but don’t let me rush your enjoyment,” he said holding hands up to forestall any immediate response.

[Ksenia]

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Ksenia felt her stomach drop. How did a soul have...bits...come loose or fray? Or detach from a body? What did Robert do that day that Artemis took ill - and had died, as the gossip around the Goose had told her? Those were unsettling thoughts and the rest of her kebab lost its appeal. Artemis gave a few quick points for looking for leatherworkers - mostly look for small and ornate work.

“Here, want it? I’m full,” Ksenia said, offering the half-full kebab stick to Artemis. He frowned slightly.

“No, I can't lie to Deb, finish it or toss it, but it's not going on my head.” He nudged it back to her.

“It’s not like I would tell her,” Ksenia grumbled, but she pulled another chunk of meat off and began to chew it slowly. “I don’t want to waste it though.” Her appetite was gone, but she knew there was still room for another piece or two. She worked the end of the kebab stick into a split in the table’s wood. “Up for grabs,” she said, motioning to the others seated around her.

She slid out and stood. “Well, I’ll go look around. I’ll plan on meeting you back here, I guess when the sun touches the top of the lighthouse?” Ksenia stretched her shoulders, rolling them forward and backward before heading into the bazaar.

Ksenia tried to weave through the crowds as she moved down the rows of the stalls closest to where they’d eaten. There were stalls with herbs, tables of food, youngsters calling out for their families and masters, and shaded areas holding birds and small animals in cages. One stall caught her eye; a younger man stood behind the table with a wide array of leather objects on display. She sidled closer, wanting to inspect his wares without being mistaken for an actual customer.

There was a satchel there, with an intricately carved top flap that had been carefully dyed in a few areas. The ends held small loops of a size to carry vials or a pen, and she could see that it had been neatly stitched. “Interested?” The man said. Ksenia started slightly; she’d been facing the sun and hadn’t seen him approach.

“Might be. I got a friend looking for some things,” she said, scanning the table. There were also belts, an archer’s armguard, and boot-toppers in varying degrees of intricacy. “About how much would this run?” she asked, pointing to a belt with loops along its length.

“About 30 copper,” he responded. “Have your friend come see me, and if they buy a few things I might work ‘em a deal.” He held out his hand. “Gavin’s my name.”

“Ksenia,” she said, reaching for his hand. “You’ll be here a while?”

“Until the bazaar closes,” he responded. He had a friendly face, with red hair and a hint of a beard. “Finishing up an apprenticeship, so I’m hoping I can find a slightly more permanent spot in the future.”

“I’ll be sure to send my friend over as soon as I can,” she said. “Thank you.” She smiled and turned away. As she moved further into the bazaar, the orderly rows devolved into clumps; people crowded around a pen to watch birds fighting and she heard bets being made before a loud cheer erupted. Sidestepping the group, she moved on.

The next cluster of stalls contained a leatherworker, and she moved in to take a look. “Ooh, ladies and leather! My favorite things!” The stall worker gave her an overlarge grin and rubbed his hands together. Ksenia tried to ignore him as she looked over his offerings. Decent belts, plain but sturdy armguards, nice purses, and a satchel that looked very well crafted. She lifted the edge of the satchel’s top flap to inspect the inside. The man put his hand on top of hers, pressing it down for an instant before flipping the flap up. “I only use the best leathers, as you can see,” he said. “This isn’t my whole stock either.”

“Oh?” Ksenia asked. The man was giving her a slightly slimy sensation, but if he was able to do what Artemis needed, it’d be worth the aggravation. He pulled a shallow bin from behind the table. In it were braided whips, thick wrist cuffs, and - was that a gag?! Ksenia’s eyes widened.

The man chuckled indulgently, a damp and gutteral sound. “See something you like?”

“No. Good day.” Ksenia turned on her heel and moved quickly into the crowd. Surreptitiously, she brushed off her sleeves as though to wipe away the sensation of being around the man. The other leatherworkers she passed by were strictly utilitarian, save for one stall on the far edge of the bazaar. The groupings had eased back into more-or-less lines again, and the table almost failed to catch her attention. The wares had been neatly grouped, and the carving on several were rather nice. The leatherworker had an eye for detail, and his smaller additions looked sturdy, but they lacked something that Gavin’s had. Still, he looked more than competent. “I have a friend looking for some things,” she said. “I’ll send him over your way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Borin,” he said, with a lopsided smile. “I’ll be here til sundown.” His blond hair shone in the sunlight as he moved to the side of the table.

“Thanks!” She squinted at the lighthouse. “Best I head back. Good day to you,” she said as she began to head toward the side of the bazaar closest to where she’d eaten lunch.

[Mila Glade]

Mila had remained silent during this whole thing. If he were honest, it was a bit beyond her, so she processed it as she would anything else; with cynicism, sarcasm, and a way of dealing with things simply as if they never happened. She gave Artemis a nudge, her finger tapping her dagger. "Well that was quite something, Black. You sure you're not going to drop in the middle of a job?"

There was no real disrespect in her voice, she was simply talking from her heart, which wasn't always the best way to go, but her upbringing had not been all cuddles and sharing. Her mother had been either absent or militant, and her father had been despondent and in perpetual mourning. Mila was a creature of that creation. "Just checking, is all." She said, simply.

[Artemis Black]

Artemis hopped up following Mila’s nudge. “I appreciate the thought, and If I do keel over at least take my knives for yourself. Give my jewels to Katarya. They won’t be worth selling and she might think it was your fault otherwise,” he said with a smile. “Oh, and give her at least a week before you try and drag her to bed. No need to spoil my memory immediately,” he added with a wink. With that he began walking back towards the bustling bazaar.

“Care to try something a little more complicated?" he asked her without breaking his focus from the crowds ahead. "Maybe nick something the size of your head. I’ll follow to get you out of trouble, but picking the target and making the pull is up to you,” he said quietly to her as they walked. It was always good to get a measure of a thief’s skill in larger objects. There was an art to these things, entirely different from the kind used to slit purses or filch trinkets.

If Mila could do this then she’d not need to go after the smaller targets. If she couldn’t, he’d help her out of trouble and they’d know for the future. ‘She’ll make a Kaxitaki blessed courier either way, but always good to know the limits,’ Artemis thought to himself as the started to filter into the crowds.