Laura S. Fox
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Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 5
🕑 Added 2024-01-21 19:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four
Chapter Five – A Staircase to the Heart of Tradeweaving
“Those weren’t just any wild dogs,” Misar Sogou continued as soon as they were upstairs and comfortably seated. “Would you like some jasmine tea while I tell you more?”
Toru caught Duril’s arm and warned him with a look. He didn’t know for sure if the same dark magic that made the beast of wood and metal downstairs move at such an incredible pace was used by the Coinvale inhabitants to taint their food and drinks, but at this point, he didn’t want to risk it. While he was strong and most likely inured to the dark power of the shards, he couldn’t say the same thing for the healer. Duril was in his care, and that meant that caution was necessary.
“We had more than our share of jasmine tea on the way here, as well as that of many incredible foods. Please do not bother,” Duril said pleasantly.
Toru gave a quick nod to his lover. They understood each other.
Misar Sogou sat across from them, tucking his long lanky body into a chair behind a desk. “Tigris’s story is by far the most astonishing tale I’ve ever heard in my life. Of course, you may easily imagine that the final version of it, as I imprinted it with the help of the invention I just showed you, has suffered a few embellishments. I like to put my mark on the things that leave this building, and you might believe it boastful of me, but I think it is important that the delivery is improved to the point that it becomes perfect in a buyer’s eyes.”
Toru thought that the collector of stories talked a bit too much, but he still didn’t consider Misar Sogou to be capable of any evil, small or great. Unless the shard had the power to possess an unaware host and force him into doing unimaginable things, this young man was a nice person in his eyes. But one who definitely talked too much.
“What about those mutts?” he asked impatiently.
“Oh, yes, allow me to whet your appetite for the story even more.” Misar Sogou looked at them with the shrewdness of a merchant searching for the right angle to land a sale. “Those wild dogs are later revealed to be shifters as well. And their leader has been tasked by a witch with destroying Tigris before he can reach the true path of his destiny.”
“That’s not how it happened,” Toru said bluntly.
Misar Sogou’s eyes grew wide, making Toru want to bite his tongue for talking too much. “I see that you are very invested in the story already, Mr. Toru. Do not worry, the leader of the pack of wild dogs will later become one of his best friends.”
“What’s his name?” Toru inquired.
“His name is Lupus, which means ‘wolf’. He isn’t a wild dog, you see? Ah, but you are making me spoil the story for you,” Misar Sogou complained, although his smile told a different story. The collector of tales seemed to be enamored with the idea of telling them to others, just as well.
“Go on,” Duril encouraged him. “I am certain we will still find the story just as entertaining even if you divulge a few things here and there.”
Misar Sogou examined his audience for a moment and appeared satisfied with having their undivided attention. “I will not tell you how Tigris and Lupus become friends. But I will tell you that while their friendship just begins, they are faced with an incredible battle. Birds with wings of tar,” he raised his voice while opening his arms wide, his face transfigured, “descend from the sky, making the day turn night. And it is only through the sly work of the witch I mentioned earlier that they are taken by surprise at first.”
“There was no witch,” Toru said with a snort, but at the unspoken warning in Duril’s eyes, he chose to remain silent. For the moment.
“They battled the huge birds day and night, day and night,” Misar Sogou continued, flapping his arms in an impersonation of those creatures, “and it seemed like the battle would last forever. But then, another hero appears.”
Toru smiled. That had to be Duril, right? He needed to be in the story, too.
“A lord of the underworld, cast away on the surface of Eawirith to pay for the mistakes of his forefathers.”
“What lord?” Toru asked, no longer understanding a thing. “Underworld?”
“His name says it all,” Misar Sogou continued, this time not even paying the slightest attention to the interruption. “Orco is the lord’s name, and it speaks of his dark and hideous appearance.”
“Take that back!” Toru jumped from his chair, lunging at the unsuspecting storyteller, who yelped, dodged and fell to the ground.
“Toru, it’s just a story,” Duril said gently and pulled him back. “Our apologies,” the healer added quickly. “My companion really loves stories, but when something goes against his wishes, he can be quite… excitable. Toru, please help our host to his feet. And apologize. Please.” The last word was a soft whisper, only for him to hear.
Although it annoyed him to no end, he had to admit that Duril was right. He offered Misar Sogou his hand. “Sorry for jumping at you. Orco is not ugly.” That is, if Orco was Duril, and not someone else, shoehorned into the story only to complicate things. So far, Misar Sogou had gotten so many things wrong in his story that Toru was beginning to think that it was a different story entirely and not the adventure he had lived through with his friends by his side until now.
“That is quite right!” Misar Sogou said cheerfully. “It is the other people that think him hideous, when in fact he is a gentle soul, with a penchant for making love potions.”
A short snicker from Duril told him that he wasn’t the only one finding the story more and more ridiculous.
“Tigris thinks he’s beautiful,” Toru said and sat in his chair with a huff.
“Yes, exactly,” Misar Sogou said with satisfaction and then narrowed his eyes. “Have you already read the story, Mr. Toru?”
“No,” he replied. He offered no other explanation, and the collector of stories didn’t insist.
“Anyway,” their host continued, “Orco created a powerful potion that helped Tigris and Lupus defeat the dark birds. From that moment onward, they became the best of friends. Even more, Tigris found himself enamored with Orco. Yes, I know, I have been advised against insisting on the romantic subplot too much, but it ran away with me.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“And then?” Toru asked, now avid to learn more.
“I will let you find out about it by reading the book,” Misar Sogou said shrewdly. “What I can tell you is that I have every intention of turning it into a story with multiple volumes. Seeing the outstanding success of the first installment I offered to the public, I believe it’s going to be a good investment of my time.”
“You told us very little,” Toru accused.
“But haven’t I made you want to read more? That is what an author does,” Misar Sogou said with a large smile. “I will give you a hint, however. In their many adventures, the three friends will save the world from certain doom.”
Toru nodded and then, a thought crossed his mind. “Is there anything about evil shards in that book of yours?”
“Evil shards? How intriguing. No,” Misar Sogou replied. “Wait, have you heard of such stories in your travels? You will have to tell me about them.”
“No,” Toru said. “And what about a hermit?”
“No, no hermits either.” Misar Sogou was about to open his mouth to ask more questions, when a head peeked from behind the door that opened with a squeak, calling for him in the sweet drawl of the local language. “Yes, I know, it is lunch time already. Would you like to join us?”
“We have other places we have to be,” Duril replied. “But we will return for the book later, and maybe you’ll have time to tell us about the Heart of Tradeweaving. As I said, the scholar in me aches for understanding such a marvelous thing.”
“I’ll see you in the evening, then. And I apologize for the interruption. Lunch is serious business here in Coinvale. Too bad you can’t sit with us. I would have loved to learn more about your travels and adventures.”
“Let’s talk later,” Duril suggested and got to his feet. “You can be sure that we will be back for the book. It sounds like an engrossing tale.”
Toru wouldn’t exactly call it engrossing, though. Farfetched and strange, more like.
***
“I’m sorry I jumped at him like that, but he was saying silly and mean things.”
Duril smiled at his Toru and wrapped his hand around his arm. “Don’t worry at all. It appears that your legend has suffered tremendous changes as it was told and retold all over the world.”
“Why can’t people remember things as they happened?” Toru complained. “They end up telling weird stories.”
“I wouldn’t call this one story so weird save for a few amusing inexactitudes,” Duril said and pulled Toru around the building. “It doesn’t matter since I have the tome with me, and I don’t stray from the truth. One day, your story will be told as it should be.”
“Yes, but how many people will read it? Since five hundred of them have already bought this silly version?” Toru continued his line of inquiries.
Duril couldn’t say that he blamed his friend. After all, it felt at least a bit strange to hear things they knew how they happened twisted and presented in such a way. But he didn’t find it displeasing; in a way, he felt flattered about becoming a character in a fictional tale. If that was how the world would find out about Toru and his great adventures, at least for now, it was all right.
Besides not wanting to subject Toru to the temptation of Coinvale’s foods, Duril had refused the invitation to lunch for a different reason. He had noticed how Misar Sogou had followed his employees out of the building, as their lunch was usually served at a nearby location. That meant that, for now, the house with the enchanted printer would be empty for a while.
He stopped Toru before they could get too far from Misar Sogou’s place. “I want to take a closer look at that printer,” he explained. “We will be in and out in the blink of an eye.”
“Did you find it weird, too? Making all that noise and its joints all trembling.”
“Yes, very. I’m sure Misar Sogou would love to explain to me at length how it is an invention, but I’d like to examine it a bit on my own. We will not touch anything,” he added as a small warning.
“I will not touch anything,” Toru confirmed without blinking. “But what do you think is happening? Does the printer have a shard in it?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t wrap my head around it, and I want to see for myself if there is something within my understanding that makes that machine work so furiously.”
***
“Finally,” Varg said with an exasperated sigh, once they stepped into the grounds of the Grand Market Square.
The place looked very much like the pictures in the brochure Duril had showed them, with many rows of stalls on all sides. The clamor that went with it hadn’t been in that leaflet, though, and it took them by surprise. A flurry of activity was going on, as the place was teeming with merchants of all ages and sartorial choices. So many different people, all shouting and praising their merchandise, were making it hard to focus on only one thing at a time.
What struck Varg as odd was the lack of customers, and it took him a moment to figure out that the merchants there were exchanging wares between themselves. The people who weren’t interested in buying and only in witnessing that display had to be strangers, just as they were, and it did appear that there was something there that captured their attention.
The tall spire rose before them, puncturing the sky above their heads with its thin end. Right above it, the shard from the leaflet appeared to hover, supported by nothing, with no obvious attachment to the structure on top of which it lay. It turned slowly, casting long shadows over the Grand Market, but the people below didn’t seem in the least interested in it.
“Look,” Claw said and caught his arm.
Varg’s gaze followed Claw’s pointing finger and understood right away. At the base of the spire, someone was granting access to the tall column in exchange for a fee. Everyone there who wasn’t a merchant appeared to be interested in getting inside.
“Do you think we have enough coin for admission?” Varg asked. “I gave everything I had to Toru this morning.”
Claw opened his palm. “Duril wouldn’t let me leave without making sure we were prepared for the many challenges of this city. Unless these people are crazy enough to pay gold coins for such a thing, I think we’re fine.”
Varg nodded and placed himself at the end of the line, while observing the spire again. “What do you think we’ll see when we get inside?”
Someone else, standing in line right before them, turned. It was a young lad with big shiny eyes. “Your first trip to Coinvale? This is a must see. The Heart of Tradeweaving.” He was short but of a stocky build and he wore good quality clothes. His head was covered by a small leather cap, and from underneath it, ringlets of brown hair escaped. He looked a lot like a squire if Varg had ever seen one.
“Do you mean that we’ll get up there?” Varg pointed with his chin at the tall structure casting its shadow from above. “How?”
“There’s a staircase,” the young lad promptly explained, happy that someone was willing to listen to him talking. “They plan on building something called an elevator, a huge basket that will carry up to four people at a time right up there.” He pointed at the top of the spire. “That is still a project at the moment, so everyone who wants to see the Heart of Tradeweaving has to take the stairs.”
“How long does it take to reach the top?” Claw asked.
“About an hour. And we have to wait for each group of people to come back down before the next climbs the stairs.”
“Is it worth it?” Varg asked. “I mean, that’s not actually the shard they call the Heart of Tradeweaving.”
“Yes, indeed,” the young lad confirmed, “but it is imbued with the same magic.”
“Is it magic, though?” Claw asked with a small smile.
“It has to be. That’s what people say.”
Varg shrugged. They had to wait some time to get inside. Since this was their starting point for their search, it couldn’t be called time wasted.
Claw, however, appeared to have other ideas. “Is there any way to get to the front of the line?” he asked the lad.
“If you have the coin, yes. But it’s expensive,” the boy replied.
Claw opened his large palm. “Will this cover it, you think?”
The lad’s eyes grew wide. “Without a doubt. Hey, mister, would you mind taking me with you? I can tell you a lot more of what I know.” His open face seemed full of hope.
Varg traded a glance with Claw. He saw no harm in it since the true Heart of Tradeweaving wasn’t there to start with.
***
There appeared to be a special staircase for those willing to pay a lot more than the usual fee, and Varg followed Claw, who walked in front. The boy followed them closely, chattering away.
“They say that Coinvale was built on the remains of a gold mine. It was almost four hundred years ago, and the mine was depleted. Some say that there is still gold in the ground, and that there are miners working at it day and night. That’s why there’s more gold here than anywhere else in the world. I came here to see if I could train as a merchant, but I wouldn’t mind becoming a miner, either. I have so many things I want to buy. Mining must pay well.”
“What’s your name, lad? How old are you?” Varg asked.
The staircase was abrupt and didn’t allow more than one person to walk up it at a time. Claw being so big had to climb with one shoulder forward, so he was able to listen to Varg’s talk with the boy, as well. The cramped stair was lit by the same torches they had seen in the city, so there was no trouble seeing where they were going. Only that there was just one way to go, and that was up.
“Mako, sir,” the boy replied. “I’m seventeen this summer.”
“Tell me more about the Heart of Tradeweaving, Mako. It seems like you know an awful lot,” Varg gently guided him toward the topic they were most interested in.
“They unearthed it in the mines of Sheparon,” Mako recited.
“Yes, we’ve read about it in the brochure. Tell us something that’s not in there.”
Mako beamed at him. It looked like he could barely wait to find someone who would lend an ear to all the information stored in his head. “Oh, there are so many things. But I have to warn you. Not all of it might be true. People like to embellish things sometimes to make them scarier or more interesting.” He shook his head, making his curls bounce left and right. “Sometimes, the least believable things are the truest.”
“It looks like it’s going to take us a while to get to the top. Share with us what you know if you will.”
“Certainly, sir,” the boy said with enthusiasm. “You see, although the people here like to have visitors believe that the shard they keep at the top of this spire in the Grand Market is nothing but a replica, that’s not true.”
“How so?” Varg could tell that Claw was listening intently to their conversation, while being perfectly comfortable with letting him lead the inquiry.
“The true heart they found in the mines of Sheparon was broken into many pieces. How many, that’s hard to tell. But rumor has it that a fragment as small as a mustard seed is enough to light up an entire neighborhood.”
“That sounds practical,” Varg admitted while a sense of foreboding began to haunt the edges of his mind. A shard broken into who knew how many pieces. Toru would have a lot of work to do to get it all. And they would have a lot of work finding all those fragments if that were the case and what Mako was saying only counted as a rumor and nothing else.
“Yes,” Mako confirmed. “And to celebrate it, they left one small piece inside the large shard you’ve seen from below. I’m telling you, we are going to be in the vicinity of magic soon enough.” He appeared quite excited by the prospect.
“There’s still a one-hour climb,” Varg reminded him.
“That’s all right. Seeing I traveled for weeks to get here, I can wait a little longer,” Mako said with a pleased expression on his face.
“From down below it looks like the thing is floating in the air. Is that because of the fragment inside it?” Varg continued.
Mako shook his head. “No, that’s an illusion. The shard is installed on a carriage that carries it round and round as it glides on a circle made of metal. What makes it move at the same pace, day and night, is the fragment, I’m sure. Although there is also a mechanism that must be wound two times a day. I can barely wait to see it all from up close.”
***
“I don’t want you to think for one moment that I intend to violate the trust and kindness Misar Sogou has shown us,” Duril said as they snuck inside like a pair of thieves. “But I can’t help but wonder what truly makes things work in such a wondrous fashion here in Coinvale.”
Down the stairs they went, making sure to step quietly, although the noise from the infernal machinery already covered any sound of their movements.
Duril was quick to walk around the printer, examining it from all angles. Toru kept watch up the stairs just to check if anyone was returning sooner than expected from their lunch, but so far they were alone.
The healer lay down on the ground after getting on his hand and knees so he could look under the printer. “It think that there is something here,” he said, pulling Toru’s attention away from watching the stairs.
He followed Duril’s example and lay by his side. He got on his belly so he could observe whatever the healer was pointing at. There was something right under the printer, in a socket made of metal. It glinted faintly, and Toru felt his shoulder reacting.
“That’s the shard,” he whispered to Duril. “But it’s tiny.”
“There’s no way for us to say whether the shards we’re looking for will always be the same size, right?”
“Yes, but still. This one is tiny. The ones in my shoulder seem to be calling to it, though. Is this really where all their magic is coming from? No matter what they call it.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense for this to be everything,” Duril commented. “I mean, if this shard is here, what’s powering all the torches we’ve seen in the city? As well as many other things they have here, I’m sure. Toru, I’m afraid these people have broken the shard into multiple pieces.”
Toru pursed his lips in displeasure. “That’s annoying. I’ll take this one, anyway.” He reached for the metal socket and pulled the shard away. The thing took a blink of an eye to disappear into his palm and find its way to its siblings. Toru could feel it inside his shoulder, but its power was faint, barely there.
The printer stopped abruptly. With its secret power gone, it went mute and still.
“Duril, I’m afraid you’re not going to get your book,” Toru said, although he didn’t feel very apologetic. Misar Sogou’s story was silly, at best.
“Who’s there?” a voice called down from the stairs.
Duril look at Toru in alarm. They were behind the printer, so still invisible to the person the voice belonged to. It was easy to recognize it, too.
Toru gestured for Duril to remain silent. He had just the way to get them out of there. As he stepped from behind the printer, he shifted into his tiger.
“I heard of someone telling silly stories about me,” he growled as he pounced in front of Misar Sogou.
The collector of stories stared at him in disbelief, all the color draining from his face. He took a step back, then another. “T-Tigris!” he shouted.
“You even got my name wrong,” Toru growled again.
“I meant no harm,” the poor collector of stories mumbled.
Toru moved closer, causing Misar Sogou to take a couple of more steps back. “Now, what I want you to do is to close your eyes--”
“A real tigershifter in my house,” Misar Sogou murmured and went limp.
Toru barely moved in time to break the young man’s fall. It seemed like the sudden realization had been his undoing, because he had just fainted in front of them.
Duril hurried from behind the printer. Toru threw his friend an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to scare him that badly.”
“Let’s just take him upstairs.” Duril checked him quickly. “He’ll be fine, but let’s put him on a bed. I’ll use one of my remedies for fainting spells and we’ll be out the door.”
“I’m really sorry,” Toru added.
“Don’t be. I had the silly idea of breaking in. At least we got some of that shard.”
“Yes, we did,” Toru said and turned back into his human. “Hopefully, no one else has come along, or I will have to scare more people to get us out of here.”
TBC
