Vincenti awoke with a start, still bound to the old woman's chair. The light creeping in from behind the shades and under the gap in the door implied late afternoon, but not quite evening. He saw the ceramic urn on a table next to him and surmised from the symbols on the side that it contained the dagger. His wallet was still in his great coat pocket.
"I am awake now. We can discuss payment. I have some money now but can give you more if you require."
He took a second to feel and savor the lack of pain in his chest. His relief as was palpable as the pain had been.
"Hello? Old woman?"
"I'm here I'm here." The old crone shuffled in from the other room. "You don't need to continue on. I should charge you more for letting you sleep here all day. Runners going this way and that. Maybe I should have let them find you hmmmmm?"
"I have no issue with the runners." Vincenti lied. "You could have let them in."
"Bah." She took the wad of currency Vincenti had brought it and tossed it onto his chest. Vincenti cringed ready for the pain but the would was already fully healed.
"Isn't that enough? I can get more."
"I don't need that money."
"If you release me I can get other money to you. I admit I was traveling a bit unprepared last night."
"Your accounts have been settled golem." She started loosening the restraints. Vincenti's arms ached and his shoulders creaked as he moved them.
"Are you sure you won't take money?" Vincenti asked. He began to dread what the crone took but a quick search of his pockets showed he still had all the lint and dust as when he had come in. "What, may I ask, did you take as payment?"
"You won't miss it, golem." It was an old joke, golems and souls.
"You can have my soul, if you can find it." he quipped.
"Bah, golem thinks he has a soul. Even if you had one it wouldn't be worth the flesh it occupied. I took your last breath golem."
That startled Vincenti. "Do I have many left?"
"Enough." She said. "You are finished here. I fixed your eyes, you will be able to make it home now and stop sullying my parlor or I really will call the runners on you."
Vincenti sat up, rubbing his wrists and waiting to regain feeling in his legs. "I thank you madame."
"Don't forget your jar. As I said you paid me to remove it not to store it." She walked to her front door and opened it, dark orange sunlight crept across the floor.
"Certainly". Vincenti expected to blink away tears with the light, but none came. He wrapped the jar in his overcoat that was still damp from the rain of the previous night and smelled vaguely of bayeed. "Again thank you."
He stepped out into the afternoon light and bathed in it. It had been quite a long time indeed since he'd seen daylight with his own eyes.
"Ming! The Wonsoon! He had to tell Ming that Arthur was on the Wonsoon." Putting the Trident on his left he headed out to tell Ming the news.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Write About A Silver Ring
We cut across town. It was early morning and the street traffic was light. Mostly food vendors setting up carts and cabbies jostling for a prime spot at the curb. They didn't even spare us a second glance. I wanted to hit one last stop before we explored the wharf and the tunnel. We headed toward the heart of the city. The buildings became taller and more respectable. Less trash but more dirty looks as we threaded through the streets. We were almost to our destination when Berto stopped suddenly.
"Look at the lights, Raz!" he exclaimed, turning down toward Lyson Road. Up ahead, I could make out the pulsating, searing lights of Cuttle.
"We don't have time, Berto," I pleaded. I tried to tug him back on track but it was no use. Most people found the visual speech of the Cuttle disconcerting. I had only a rudimentary understanding of what all the colors meant but only a fool would approach a Cuttle flashing the cold hard colors of blue and purple. In my experience, the Cuttle were like rats. They did their own thing and left you alone unless you cornered them. Then, they fought viciously. I avoided them at all cost. But Umberto had a strange fixation with their blinking lights. He claimed he could understand them. But then, he also claimed he could hear butterflies sing when they flew. He isn't the quickest off the starting blocks if you get my drift.
"They are so sad, Raz," Umberto muttered, as he hurried into the square in front of the Cuttle consul. For such a big guy, Umberto can move surprisingly fast. I had to hurry to keep up. He stopped at the edge of the Cuttle crowd that had gathered on the embassy steps. Deep midnight blue and dark violent violet colors splashed across his face from the Cuttle around him. I stayed on the edge of the crowd. I had no urge to get in the middle of that rats nest. The Cuttle surrounded Berto quickly, pulsating rapidly. Umberto stood still, his eyes wide, mesmerized by the lights. The rhythm and glare gave me a headache and I had to look away. When my sight cleared, the Cuttle had parted and Umberto was walking back to me, tears in his eyes.
"Raz, it's awful," Umberto sniffled, running his nose along his arm. "They have lost their kids Raz. Their kids! And no one cares or is doing nothing. Can we do something Raz? I bet you can think of a way to help, right?" Umberto looked down at me, expectantly.
Just between you and me, there was no way I was getting mixed up in Cuttle kid business. Their offspring were a mean, dog eat dog, hardscrabble lot. And I mean that literally. Cuttle kids were notorious for loving the taste of black dog. The last thing I wanted was to track down a couple of missing Cuttle squirts but I didn't have the time to win Umberto over to my way of seeing things so I did something I would end up regretting later... I lied. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. If only I knew the heart-ache it would cause us later.
"Sure Berto, we sure will help. I bet if we find those Cuttle kiddos, they'll be some big reward for us which would be great, right? But to do that, we need to hurry up and look into that tunnel I told you about. No more wasting time, ok?" I said. Umberto nodded eagerly and then wrapped me in a big bear hug.
"You're the best Raz! I just knew I could count on you!" Umberto dropped me back to the ground and ran back toward the Cuttle. "I'll tell 'em we're on the case now!" he yelled over his shoulder to me. I watched as he tried to talk to the Cuttle. I have no idea what he told them or what they understood. Their colors turned bright gold for a moment and then Umberto was back at my side, ready to go.
"So, whadda we gotta do, Raz?" he asked me.
"We need to pick up Momma's ring Berto," I said as we headed north, the lights of the Cuttle riot at our back. "Then we'll be ready to explore."
"Look at the lights, Raz!" he exclaimed, turning down toward Lyson Road. Up ahead, I could make out the pulsating, searing lights of Cuttle.
"We don't have time, Berto," I pleaded. I tried to tug him back on track but it was no use. Most people found the visual speech of the Cuttle disconcerting. I had only a rudimentary understanding of what all the colors meant but only a fool would approach a Cuttle flashing the cold hard colors of blue and purple. In my experience, the Cuttle were like rats. They did their own thing and left you alone unless you cornered them. Then, they fought viciously. I avoided them at all cost. But Umberto had a strange fixation with their blinking lights. He claimed he could understand them. But then, he also claimed he could hear butterflies sing when they flew. He isn't the quickest off the starting blocks if you get my drift.
"They are so sad, Raz," Umberto muttered, as he hurried into the square in front of the Cuttle consul. For such a big guy, Umberto can move surprisingly fast. I had to hurry to keep up. He stopped at the edge of the Cuttle crowd that had gathered on the embassy steps. Deep midnight blue and dark violent violet colors splashed across his face from the Cuttle around him. I stayed on the edge of the crowd. I had no urge to get in the middle of that rats nest. The Cuttle surrounded Berto quickly, pulsating rapidly. Umberto stood still, his eyes wide, mesmerized by the lights. The rhythm and glare gave me a headache and I had to look away. When my sight cleared, the Cuttle had parted and Umberto was walking back to me, tears in his eyes.
"Raz, it's awful," Umberto sniffled, running his nose along his arm. "They have lost their kids Raz. Their kids! And no one cares or is doing nothing. Can we do something Raz? I bet you can think of a way to help, right?" Umberto looked down at me, expectantly.
Just between you and me, there was no way I was getting mixed up in Cuttle kid business. Their offspring were a mean, dog eat dog, hardscrabble lot. And I mean that literally. Cuttle kids were notorious for loving the taste of black dog. The last thing I wanted was to track down a couple of missing Cuttle squirts but I didn't have the time to win Umberto over to my way of seeing things so I did something I would end up regretting later... I lied. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. If only I knew the heart-ache it would cause us later.
"Sure Berto, we sure will help. I bet if we find those Cuttle kiddos, they'll be some big reward for us which would be great, right? But to do that, we need to hurry up and look into that tunnel I told you about. No more wasting time, ok?" I said. Umberto nodded eagerly and then wrapped me in a big bear hug.
"You're the best Raz! I just knew I could count on you!" Umberto dropped me back to the ground and ran back toward the Cuttle. "I'll tell 'em we're on the case now!" he yelled over his shoulder to me. I watched as he tried to talk to the Cuttle. I have no idea what he told them or what they understood. Their colors turned bright gold for a moment and then Umberto was back at my side, ready to go.
"So, whadda we gotta do, Raz?" he asked me.
"We need to pick up Momma's ring Berto," I said as we headed north, the lights of the Cuttle riot at our back. "Then we'll be ready to explore."
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
What washed up on the shore
What washed up on the shore
Finnegan's head was pounding. Eyes closed, head down, fingers massaging his temples. This assignment has seemed like such a good step up the ladder of power, prestige and society. That had been 22 years, 3 wives, 4 children and countless grasping sycophantic co-workers ago.
To open his eyes risked another office lurching vertigo wave. He risked it anyway. The ceiling of his office was bathed in a pulsing light, sometimes red, but usually an angry blue or aquamarine. The light reflected off his office door, highlighting then silhouetting the writing on the frosted glass: "Alistair Finnegan, d.TM. Director Man/Cuttle Relations.
The Cuttle were rallying in the square down below his office. Another Cuttle child had disappeared. The Runners were mum versus his repeated inquiries. It wasn't just the Cuttle reporting missing children, but many others all throughout the city, the Lemurians particularly so. The Cuttle family that had just left was the third this week pleading with him for assistance. Another letter to the Runner's Citadel was on his desk to be signed. The letter was another pleading attempt for help from the runners to find the missing child or at least to create a task force to look into it. He was sure this one would meet the same fate as the other 7 he'd sent over the past six months, which would be utter silence. The normally unflappable runners seemed bent on keeping whatever they knew to themselves and seeing raid after raid in the papers they knew far more than they were letting on.
There was a knock on his door.
"Come in." Finnegan said. His assistant poked her head through.
"Mr. Finnegan, sir. We were wondering, that was your last appointment today. Could we get home? The Cuttles out front are getting more and more agitated. We were thinking we could slip out through the basement before the Runners are called to disperse the crowd?"
Finnegan's fingers continued to work his temples. While most Cuttle speeches were far too fast for humans to understand, the individuals speaking downstairs had slowed down to make sure anyone who could understand them could follow. The result was an almost constant aurora on the ceilings and walls and all the buildings around the square. Finnegan had found out far too late in life that speaking to Cuttles was a one way ticket to headaches and at one point a seizure.
"Fine. If your work is done you may all leave."
"Can I bring you an analgesic sir? Marsh? Forthent?"
"Two fingers of Forthent then be off with you."
"Right away sir." She ducked back out the door.
The bureaucrat opened his desk drawer for a pair of glasses he'd been prescribed and put them on. Almost instantly his headache lessened to tolerable levels.
He stood and walked over to his window. Four stories down below the square was filled, tentacle to tentacle of Cuttle. There were almost a thousand of the squat four legged things. Five cuttle stood on at the top of the stairs leading into his building. Their facial tentacles pulsing light rapidly and, unusually, they were pulse speaking in unison. The light from their bioluminescent cells changing shades rapidly and able to be seen for blocks in any direction. Except for the light, there was no noise. The cuttle spoke in their light tongue and a few others translated in facial tentacle sign language for the non-cuttle who were there too.
Every few seconds the five speaking would flash something to incite the crowd and the square would burst in shades of cold blue and livid purple. Those bursts would make Finnegan's temples flare.
He was only able to catch every third or fourth word. 30 years of working with Cuttle and he still only could understand a smattering of their language. Today, however, the sentiments were coming across bright and clear. The device that had washed up on the shore was being held in connection to the multiple disappearances of Cuttle children. His office was being blamed for dragging its feet with the Runners and the investigation.
Finnegan sighed. Thirty years of working with them and he still had no clue how they thought about children. Any given Cuttle mother gave birth to several hundred slimes in any given litter, most of which ate each other in the first few weeks, leaving only a few strong, quick or clever ones in each cycle. Why they were upset over the loss of 6 was beyond him. They were the fastest growing community in the city since their embassy had opened.
Movement at the edge of the square caught his eye. Runners in heavy gear were starting to amass at the two entrances he could see and he assumed the other three entrances to the square were being blocked off as well.
"Might be time to leave as well." Finnigan said to no one in particular. He turned to see that his assistant had already left the murky green glass of forthent on his desk and had disappeared. He downed the sweet drink in one gulp and felt its warmth spread to his fingers and the tip of his nose.
He ran over the path through the archive tunnels in his mind trying to decide with other building to come up in and which one would be furthest from the Runners and whatever inscrutable actions they were planning.
Finnegan grabbed his top coat, bowler and umbrella and made his way to the stairway. His office was already deserted, gas lamps turned low and sputtering.
"they could have at least waited for me to leave."
"How did it come to this?" he wondered as he walked down the echoy marble steps. His career has been so promising when he started.
Finnegan's head was pounding. Eyes closed, head down, fingers massaging his temples. This assignment has seemed like such a good step up the ladder of power, prestige and society. That had been 22 years, 3 wives, 4 children and countless grasping sycophantic co-workers ago.
To open his eyes risked another office lurching vertigo wave. He risked it anyway. The ceiling of his office was bathed in a pulsing light, sometimes red, but usually an angry blue or aquamarine. The light reflected off his office door, highlighting then silhouetting the writing on the frosted glass: "Alistair Finnegan, d.TM. Director Man/Cuttle Relations.
The Cuttle were rallying in the square down below his office. Another Cuttle child had disappeared. The Runners were mum versus his repeated inquiries. It wasn't just the Cuttle reporting missing children, but many others all throughout the city, the Lemurians particularly so. The Cuttle family that had just left was the third this week pleading with him for assistance. Another letter to the Runner's Citadel was on his desk to be signed. The letter was another pleading attempt for help from the runners to find the missing child or at least to create a task force to look into it. He was sure this one would meet the same fate as the other 7 he'd sent over the past six months, which would be utter silence. The normally unflappable runners seemed bent on keeping whatever they knew to themselves and seeing raid after raid in the papers they knew far more than they were letting on.
There was a knock on his door.
"Come in." Finnegan said. His assistant poked her head through.
"Mr. Finnegan, sir. We were wondering, that was your last appointment today. Could we get home? The Cuttles out front are getting more and more agitated. We were thinking we could slip out through the basement before the Runners are called to disperse the crowd?"
Finnegan's fingers continued to work his temples. While most Cuttle speeches were far too fast for humans to understand, the individuals speaking downstairs had slowed down to make sure anyone who could understand them could follow. The result was an almost constant aurora on the ceilings and walls and all the buildings around the square. Finnegan had found out far too late in life that speaking to Cuttles was a one way ticket to headaches and at one point a seizure.
"Fine. If your work is done you may all leave."
"Can I bring you an analgesic sir? Marsh? Forthent?"
"Two fingers of Forthent then be off with you."
"Right away sir." She ducked back out the door.
The bureaucrat opened his desk drawer for a pair of glasses he'd been prescribed and put them on. Almost instantly his headache lessened to tolerable levels.
He stood and walked over to his window. Four stories down below the square was filled, tentacle to tentacle of Cuttle. There were almost a thousand of the squat four legged things. Five cuttle stood on at the top of the stairs leading into his building. Their facial tentacles pulsing light rapidly and, unusually, they were pulse speaking in unison. The light from their bioluminescent cells changing shades rapidly and able to be seen for blocks in any direction. Except for the light, there was no noise. The cuttle spoke in their light tongue and a few others translated in facial tentacle sign language for the non-cuttle who were there too.
Every few seconds the five speaking would flash something to incite the crowd and the square would burst in shades of cold blue and livid purple. Those bursts would make Finnegan's temples flare.
He was only able to catch every third or fourth word. 30 years of working with Cuttle and he still only could understand a smattering of their language. Today, however, the sentiments were coming across bright and clear. The device that had washed up on the shore was being held in connection to the multiple disappearances of Cuttle children. His office was being blamed for dragging its feet with the Runners and the investigation.
Finnegan sighed. Thirty years of working with them and he still had no clue how they thought about children. Any given Cuttle mother gave birth to several hundred slimes in any given litter, most of which ate each other in the first few weeks, leaving only a few strong, quick or clever ones in each cycle. Why they were upset over the loss of 6 was beyond him. They were the fastest growing community in the city since their embassy had opened.
Movement at the edge of the square caught his eye. Runners in heavy gear were starting to amass at the two entrances he could see and he assumed the other three entrances to the square were being blocked off as well.
"Might be time to leave as well." Finnigan said to no one in particular. He turned to see that his assistant had already left the murky green glass of forthent on his desk and had disappeared. He downed the sweet drink in one gulp and felt its warmth spread to his fingers and the tip of his nose.
He ran over the path through the archive tunnels in his mind trying to decide with other building to come up in and which one would be furthest from the Runners and whatever inscrutable actions they were planning.
Finnegan grabbed his top coat, bowler and umbrella and made his way to the stairway. His office was already deserted, gas lamps turned low and sputtering.
"they could have at least waited for me to leave."
"How did it come to this?" he wondered as he walked down the echoy marble steps. His career has been so promising when he started.
Monday, December 5, 2011
You Found It In A Drawer
My plan was simple. We were going to find out where that dark passage led. Those men I had seen at the wharf were clearly trying to keep a low profile. That meant, if we could find out what they were up to, we had something to sell. Either our silence or our knowledge. I didn't care either way. Who ever paid more worked just fine for me. We had made a pretty penny a while back when we had stumbled upon a counterfeiting ring a few years ago. For the right price, our lips were sealed and our palms crossed. In fact, that was where we had first met Jules. She was the brains behind the operation and had figured out how to turn lead into gold. Unfortunately, the effects proved to be temporary but Jules and her cohorts were long gone by the time that had happened. Jules turned out to be a good resource over the years. She always had some invention that wanted testing. Most of the time, her ideas fell on the wrong side of the law which was just fine by me. I figured before I headed back to explore the tunnel, I'd line my pockets with a few of her handy devices and see what, if anything, she had heard..
By the time we reached her neighborhood, dawn was breaking. Jules worked under a printing shop. She claimed that the sound of the printing press as it pounded out copies of the daily rag gave her inspiration. All it gave me was a headache. We reached the stairs that led down to her rooms just as the sun breached the horizon.
"Um, Raz, do I gotta?" Umberto had balked at the top of the stairs. He had resumed is shuffling and hand wringing. I stifled a sigh. Umberto didn't like Jules. Jules didn't like Umberto. They were water and oil, cats and dogs, and any other over used cliche you could think of the described to forces that did not play well together.
"Yes Berto," I replied patiently, "we got to. You lost the money, now we have to find more. Jules is the way. Sorry big guy." I patted his arm and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Umberto followed much slower.
The door was unlocked but I knew better than to open it. Instead, I swung the metal message flap up and hollared out, "Hey Jules! It's me! Is it safe to enter?"
There was a loud crash followed by what sounded like a buzzing noise and the door was pulled open and out of my hand. Jules looked disheveled but grinned up at me. She was a tiny little thing. Maybe five foot one on a good day. But if you knew Jules, you knew height meant little. Her smock was blackened with soot and she held a strange device in her hands. It was covered with gears and grease and what looked like small opalescent orb floated in air above it. I didn't even try to wrap my mind around what it was. It was out of my league.
"Razzie," grunted and frowned up at me. "You have the worst timing," she said as she turned and walked into her lair. I grinned at the back of her retreating figure before following but was stopped by Umberto tugging on my shirt tails.
"Please Raz? Please?" he asked in a whisper.
"Oh, you brought It with you I see." Jules turned and looked at Umberto. Her head tilted to the right a bit and her eye lids lowered down to slits. Then she smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Hey now, hey now, lets not do this Jules," I stepped between them, blocking her line of sight and felt Umberto growl behind me. "Berto, why don't you go guard the door for me while I talk to Jules, ok?"
Jules had lowered her gaze and was fiddling with her device. It began giving off sparks as the orb began rotating at an alarming rate. With a grunt, Umberto turned, slammed the door and stomped up the stairs. Now it was my turn to glare.
"Really, Jules? Really? Do you have to do that? You know Umberto is harmless? Why do you have to rile him up so?" I asked and I settled myself in the nearest chair.
Jules shrugged and tossed the orb device into her desk where it sputtered to a stop. "Just can't help myself," she sighed, and she untied her smock and soothed her wrinkled dress. She glanced at me now with lowered lids and that same head tilt I had learned to watch out for.
"What are you up to Razzie? You never visit me anymore unless something is going on. Spill it. What mess have you gotten tangled up in now." She settled herself in a chair next to me and began fussing with a tray set for tea. She passed me a delicate cup and saucer then sat back with her own while I explained the situation. When I was done, she had finished her drink and was on her feet rummaging through her desk drawer.
"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed as she pulled forth a small metal box. She opened it carefully and then spun it in her palm so its contents faced me. "This is a little gizmo I designed for a, er, client. He never claimed it so it's been gathering dust for the last few months but I think it is just what you need." Gently, she lifted a flat metal disc from the box and placed it in her palm. The disk had a large raised stone set in the center and with her free hand, Jules gentle tapped the gem. A soft glow began to emanate from the set jewel. It grew in strength until Jules tapped the gem a second time. Now the glow was a steady green light that illuminated her face in a ghastly manner. But it was strong.
"One tap on. Two taps to set. Simply turn it over," she quickly flipped the disk in her hand and the light was extinguished "and it's extinguished." She smiled at the look on my face and tossed the disc into my lap. "Really, Razzie, you are so easily amused! It's merely trapped ether magnified and focused through the facets of a crystal. Amateurishness, I know, but sometime I like to try my hand at the easy things," she sighed breezily. She sat back down in her chair and leaned across to me, her playfulness dropped away and her gaze was serious.
"But Raz, this business by the wharf, are you sure you want to poke around in it? I haven't heard much but what I have isn't good. People have been disappearing which isn't new but something happened to turn up the heat. I heard the Runners are looking into it. You don't want to mess with them." She shuddered and leaned back in her chair.
That was not good news. The Runners were the known for their tenacity and their incorruptibility. If they were poking around this scheme I would have to tread lightly. But it also meant that whatever was going on was big if it had grabbed their attention. My chances for a payout were looking better and better.
I stood up and smiled at Jules. "No worries, my dear. I was born careful. I promise not to blunder into the path of a seeking Runner. And with this little gem," I added, flipping the disc in the air and catching it again, "I am set to learn a little more about what has the Runners in such a bother."
By the time we reached her neighborhood, dawn was breaking. Jules worked under a printing shop. She claimed that the sound of the printing press as it pounded out copies of the daily rag gave her inspiration. All it gave me was a headache. We reached the stairs that led down to her rooms just as the sun breached the horizon.
"Um, Raz, do I gotta?" Umberto had balked at the top of the stairs. He had resumed is shuffling and hand wringing. I stifled a sigh. Umberto didn't like Jules. Jules didn't like Umberto. They were water and oil, cats and dogs, and any other over used cliche you could think of the described to forces that did not play well together.
"Yes Berto," I replied patiently, "we got to. You lost the money, now we have to find more. Jules is the way. Sorry big guy." I patted his arm and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Umberto followed much slower.
The door was unlocked but I knew better than to open it. Instead, I swung the metal message flap up and hollared out, "Hey Jules! It's me! Is it safe to enter?"
There was a loud crash followed by what sounded like a buzzing noise and the door was pulled open and out of my hand. Jules looked disheveled but grinned up at me. She was a tiny little thing. Maybe five foot one on a good day. But if you knew Jules, you knew height meant little. Her smock was blackened with soot and she held a strange device in her hands. It was covered with gears and grease and what looked like small opalescent orb floated in air above it. I didn't even try to wrap my mind around what it was. It was out of my league.
"Razzie," grunted and frowned up at me. "You have the worst timing," she said as she turned and walked into her lair. I grinned at the back of her retreating figure before following but was stopped by Umberto tugging on my shirt tails.
"Please Raz? Please?" he asked in a whisper.
"Oh, you brought It with you I see." Jules turned and looked at Umberto. Her head tilted to the right a bit and her eye lids lowered down to slits. Then she smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Hey now, hey now, lets not do this Jules," I stepped between them, blocking her line of sight and felt Umberto growl behind me. "Berto, why don't you go guard the door for me while I talk to Jules, ok?"
Jules had lowered her gaze and was fiddling with her device. It began giving off sparks as the orb began rotating at an alarming rate. With a grunt, Umberto turned, slammed the door and stomped up the stairs. Now it was my turn to glare.
"Really, Jules? Really? Do you have to do that? You know Umberto is harmless? Why do you have to rile him up so?" I asked and I settled myself in the nearest chair.
Jules shrugged and tossed the orb device into her desk where it sputtered to a stop. "Just can't help myself," she sighed, and she untied her smock and soothed her wrinkled dress. She glanced at me now with lowered lids and that same head tilt I had learned to watch out for.
"What are you up to Razzie? You never visit me anymore unless something is going on. Spill it. What mess have you gotten tangled up in now." She settled herself in a chair next to me and began fussing with a tray set for tea. She passed me a delicate cup and saucer then sat back with her own while I explained the situation. When I was done, she had finished her drink and was on her feet rummaging through her desk drawer.
"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed as she pulled forth a small metal box. She opened it carefully and then spun it in her palm so its contents faced me. "This is a little gizmo I designed for a, er, client. He never claimed it so it's been gathering dust for the last few months but I think it is just what you need." Gently, she lifted a flat metal disc from the box and placed it in her palm. The disk had a large raised stone set in the center and with her free hand, Jules gentle tapped the gem. A soft glow began to emanate from the set jewel. It grew in strength until Jules tapped the gem a second time. Now the glow was a steady green light that illuminated her face in a ghastly manner. But it was strong.
"One tap on. Two taps to set. Simply turn it over," she quickly flipped the disk in her hand and the light was extinguished "and it's extinguished." She smiled at the look on my face and tossed the disc into my lap. "Really, Razzie, you are so easily amused! It's merely trapped ether magnified and focused through the facets of a crystal. Amateurishness, I know, but sometime I like to try my hand at the easy things," she sighed breezily. She sat back down in her chair and leaned across to me, her playfulness dropped away and her gaze was serious.
"But Raz, this business by the wharf, are you sure you want to poke around in it? I haven't heard much but what I have isn't good. People have been disappearing which isn't new but something happened to turn up the heat. I heard the Runners are looking into it. You don't want to mess with them." She shuddered and leaned back in her chair.
That was not good news. The Runners were the known for their tenacity and their incorruptibility. If they were poking around this scheme I would have to tread lightly. But it also meant that whatever was going on was big if it had grabbed their attention. My chances for a payout were looking better and better.
I stood up and smiled at Jules. "No worries, my dear. I was born careful. I promise not to blunder into the path of a seeking Runner. And with this little gem," I added, flipping the disc in the air and catching it again, "I am set to learn a little more about what has the Runners in such a bother."
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