While the pain in Vincenti's chest wasn't incapacitating, he knew he'd need to get the knife taken out sooner rather than later. He could already feel his body trying to accept the foreign object and make it part of him, trouble was the gems on the hilt would be poisonous the instant they touched his skin. He was going to have to make his way to a reputable thaumatist this time, as Ming, while good, was a little rusty on his lesser poison wards and runes.
Vincenti felt the knive burrow into his chest a little further and figured he had about forty five minutes to get somewhere. Ever since the Wraith Skirmishes, good quality thaumatists had been few and far between, couple the fact that it was early into the morning and a real thaumatist's power rose with the sun Vincenti began to worry that he was not long for this body. It was taking more and more of his concentration to keep his organs from touching the blade.
"Thaumatist first, cash second." He kept chanting, then added to the list "Get back to Ming to tell him Arthur was on the Wonsoon." With any luck the Wonsoon was still loading and not leaving on the tide. Perhaps there was still time to get someone on board to look after the dwarf. Suddenly his body was racked with pain. He dropped to his knees fighting for breath, tears streaming from his eyes. Not caring about the gems, Vincenti clutched at the knife's hilt and pulled for all he was worth. The knife wouldn't budge. He felt his concentration slip and his lung touched the blade inside, another electric jolt racked his body. Some part of his brain that was still able to have rational thought decided that the blade must have been thaumatically charged, not just the gems. Expensive, but not out of the realms of possibility. He could feel the gems burning his hands where he gripped the knife but was able to remove the blade by a finger span. Almost immediately the pain subsided and he was able to catch his breath.
Continuing down back alleys, he made his way to the closest Thaumaturge he could think of.
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Arthur came to with the sounds of shouting, footsteps and a gentle swaying. His wrists and ankles were bound still, too tightly to work loose. He struggled to sit up freeing his head from the burlap sack he was in, then let his eyes adjust to the dim gaslight being produced by wall sconces. Around him, wide golden-eyed Lemur-men were stacking crates and barrels, chittering to each other as they worked. Arthur noted the curved ribs set into the walls and surmised he was on a ship.
"Do any of you have a glass of water you could spare?"
The lemur-men didn't even glance in his direction. Arthur looked over to one, his fur with many more silvery streaks to it than the rest, and who's coveralls were covered in a dark grime. Arthur switched to Lemurian.
"Old man, do you have any water? Wine? Beer? Something to get the taste of copper out of my mouth?"
The old lemur man blinked slowly at him, then brought a small tin cup over. Arthur relished the water and swirled it around his mouth, feeling at least one loose molar.
"Much obliged. What's your name? What ship is this?" The others had finished loading the crates and were filing out, keeping their hopping lope low to avoid hitting the ceiling.
The Lemur-man took the cup from Arthur.
"I am Pardo, this ship is the Wonsoon."
"Wonsoon. Good, pleasure to meet you Pardo. I'm Arthur. I'd shake your hand but..." Aruthur held up his bound wrists and offered a depreciating smile.
"Where are we heading Pardo? South to the Isles? I could use some sun. North? I could stand to buy my lady friends some gems and jewels if you know what I mean. Who can I speak to about getting some better accommodations?" Again, he glanced at his bound wrists.
"The refinery." is all Pardo said, then loped out with the others.
"gods be damned, the refinery?" Arthur muttered. "Vincenti, I hope you've got all this!" At least he was alive.
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Vincenti was approaching panic as three of the alleys he'd gone down trying to find shortcuts had been dead ends. The first rays of the sun were prodding the horizon. Orange columns pierced the smog and overwhelmed Vincenti's night vision. Now with tears in his eyes, he staggered from one cobbled stoned alleyway to another. At one point he tumbled headlong into a pile of trash and refuse. Rats and other vermin scurried away thinking him a large predator. Through the tears he glimpsed a half opened Cigar box, coinage glinting.
Looking around and seeing no one, he grasped the box and opened it. Coins and bills glowed softly inside. Hopefully he could pass off the bill's aura as his. There was more than enough money inside to remove the knife, and maybe even enough to fix his eyes so they would work in the daylight too. The point would become moot, however, if he couldn't find a thaumatist in the next ten minutes.
Stumbling out of the alleyway, blinking away the tears and trying to focus, he realized he had reached the Opal district after all. If a thaumatist was to be had, it would be here. Almost instantly a door, four buildings down opened. A woman, dressed in old red and burnt orange silks, with white hair down to her ankles gestured for him to come over.
"Well? I've been expecting you all night. You certainly took your time in getting here. At least you waited until the sun came up. Get in the chair and lets look at this knife problem of yours." She took his box of money.
"Stolen, but not by you. That's something I suppose." She held up a coin so it occluded a glowing white glass ball hanging from the ceiling. THe ball bathed the entire room in an even white light. She clucked through her teeth. Not bad warding work. Not good, and not yours. The runes said you would come with money. The bones said it would be tainted, and the furies simply laughed at a golem coming to seek me out. But who believes the furies most of the time anyway, eh?"
Vincenti cringed. Hopefully she wouldn't report him. His bowler hat fell off as he grimaced and slid onto the chair and reclined back to almost horizontal. While, padded, the leather was cracked and stuffing was falling out. Metal clamps came from the arm rests and secured arms, legs and neck.
She looked at the knife in his chest as it sunk in another fraction of an inch.
"Please hurry." Was all Vicnenti could muster.
"That money pays for quality, not speed." she said. The knife slid in further, another rune triggered and Vincenti arced his back from the pain. The wrist clamps groaned.
"You break my chair I leave the knife in." She said. She tapped just above the knife on his chest. His muscles were so taut it sounded as if he were solid.
"Take...take all the money. P...puh...lease just help me." He mustered between spasms.
"Everyone thinks they can do magicks today. Tell me this golem. Why did the bones say I should help you? I don't normally work on your kind."
"I...duh... I don't know. Hurrrrrrrrrrrr." Vincenti's jaw clamped shut."
"Very well." She closed her eyes for a second, placed her long and jagged finger nail from her little finger under the hilt and in one deft motion yanked the knife out. Instantly Vincenti lost consciousness.
The old woman clucked to herself and held the knife carefully in her nails by tip and hilt. She laid it flat on her desk and rummaged around for a large clay plot.
"You paid for removal, but not for storage. You need to take this with you." She placed the knife in in the jar, spoke a word and the open face of the jar closed. Gently she placed the jar on a table next to the chair.
"You hear me golem? You take the knife with you." she kicked the chair but Vicenti didn't move.
"Bah, golems." She shuffled off to another room.
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