The Arbiter
Copyright© 2025 by James Girvan
Chapter 40
Thrift stores are always an odd experience. People with twenty bucks to their name rubbing shoulders with middle-class moms looking for a Prada scarf or Gucci clutch that someone accidentally threw away along with their grandma’s silver spoons.
I was kinda in the middle, picking up an old backpack and some decent clothes while trying to avoid nasty smells. I scored a great set of dress shirts that someone had obviously outgrown, along with slacks. I had enough cash these days to get tailored clothes, but I would probably wreck them or leave them behind at a moment’s notice these days, so why bother. Picking over the sports section was a total bust. Neither Hockey nor Lacrosse was a big deal down here, and Football shoulder pads didn’t leave much room for the Fire Mage (or Archers) to move like they needed to. Everything else from Soccer to Skiing had been picked clean but that wasn’t surprising given that portals and portal diving had been up and running for nearly a year now.
Robbie and Sarah were waiting outside by the time I’d packed all my stuff into my ‘new’ bag and left. “Socks and underwear next, also I think Sarah needs ummm ... girl stuff.” I tried not to laugh, the big bad pack leader all out of sorts over tampons and panty liners. Part of me wondered if she’d actually need that stuff for a while anymore as much as she’d been seeded lately.
“I was thinking of picking up a burner phone, just to access the Net and maybe keep up with the news.” I mentioned casually, the camp was totally off-grid when it came to the internet and cell phones for some reason.
“Yeah nothing suspicious at all about an unknown stranger in a small town, paying cash for a burner phone. Nope, nothing to see here officer...” Robbie deadpanned. Shit, he was possibly right. Maybe I could ask Jimmy or Grace to pick one up for me; they’d been here long enough to be recognized at least
I grabbed some toiletries too (seeing as we were now in the dollar store anyway) and a couple of towels and facecloths. Getting nasty and dirty in the portals was pretty common, and a cheap towel or some wet-wipes went a long way in there.
The shitbox was parked on the road, Jimmy leaning against it with Grace nowhere to be found. “Hey,” I offered when we were in close enough that anyone overhearing us would have to be trying really hard. “ ... I was thinking of picking up a burner phone, access the net for news, navigation, that sort of stuff. You or Grace have any issues with that? I noticed the camp is kinda off-grid.”
“Nope, you want the news then buy a paper or a magazine. Grace decided when we formed this group that we would be off the radar of every organization, and that means cellphones are a no-go.” He replied with a lazy yawn. “Your man told us none of y’all had phones when we met ‘em”. I took his idea seriously and walked into the grocery store, finding an honest-to-god paper copy of today’s newspaper as well as this month’s issue of Hunter Magazine.
Grace showed up with a small bag of mail from somewhere and we all piled in for the return trip, Sarah on the inside seat this time. The poor shitbox was nearly dragging its ass on the ground with all the food we had in the trunk. Jimmy pulled up just past the Needham ranch and the three of us in the back were ordered out with our stuff before they pulled off the road onto the shitty dirt and gravel path that lead to the camp. I tramped up the road with my new backpack and a plastic bag from Healthy-rite full of things like toothpaste, wet-wipes, and deodorant.
Unloading was already in process by the time we walked up and I was waved over to a picnic table by the fire pit by Grace. Anne and Patty must have taken the other shitbox home earlier since they were helping move groceries from the trunk to one of the three fridges in the doublewide. Grace didn’t join them after her first armload; instead appearing with with two beers. After making a few orders and walking over to the table she cracked both, passing one over with the question “Do you think we could take them?”
My mind churning, Rhe only ‘them’ I could only imagine that she was talking about were the Silver buyers. “You know that anyone who dies, takes their inventory with them right?” I asked, touting the knowledge that ‘everybody’ knew.
“It’s just Silver, we make a few threats, wave about some weapons and take off with the goodies,” she pontificated “ ... no bodies on the ground. From the connections he has, I’d bet that boy has two hundred Silver.”
He had exactly 358 Silver but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I also didn’t believe that they could get at all the Silver without someone bleeding. Hell, most of the Norms here were armed with pistols. I’d bet that the Weapons were too.
“We’re nearly ready to move on from here. Like you we’ve kept off the grid and used portal names between us mostly. All that pig’s Silver split between us would go a long way to setting the group up at our next location.” She practically purred. I could easily imagine her throwing us to the wolves as she made her escape, or hamstringing us like I had done to Mace. Her problem was that she thought she was the biggest fish in the pool.
She was not.
“The older one wasn’t a weapon,” she nodded, silently appraising me. “ ... and the younger one was very low-level by my estimation. You could certainly ‘take’ him but you’d need leverage to force the Silver out of him, and then you’d still never know if you’d got it all.” I paused here, a comment she’d made earlier coming back to me. “How’d you know how many connections they have, you spying on ‘em?”
Grace smiled, a real one that had a hint of the predator behind the mask. “I can ... see connections between Weapons. You and your doorman and his bitch waltzed in here looking to everyone else like you’re a team but I’d bet you hadn’t met him more than a week ago, her even less.” She stopped probably waiting for some confirmation or reciprocity from me.
“I can see someone’s weapon, when it’s in their inventory and other things about it that aren’t apparent to other Weapons who look at it.” I stated as a manner of trade. It wasn’t the whole truth even slightly but I’d bet my boots that her story wasn’t either.
“And the mule?” She asked, using the derogatory term for any Weapon that took a job moving Silver or items for Norms.
“Twin daggers, damn near short swords at fourteen inches each. Steel coloured, wire-wrapped handles with simple ‘T’ cross-guards.” I said, showing off a little like I was trying to impress her.
“What makes you think that he’s not skilled in their use?”
“Just pure observation: his wrists aren’t developed, and his biceps are quite small for someone who had been working out with heavy daggers for a year.” I surmised. He didn’t have calloused hands either, but if she hadn’t noticed that herself then that was her fault.
“I came to the same conclusion but am still being cautious since the Gates can grant people surprisingly powerful gifts without others being made aware, as well you know.” She stated simply. Standing with her beer left untouched she stepped out from the table. “We’ll talk closer to the event.”
I sat and wondered what to do about her, she’d already decided they were going to do it, so why the charade with me? I could easily take the Silver from any or all of them and run for it while leaving her and her cronies here to face retribution from the Church. I could just as easily walk away and wash my hands of it but that boy and the minister (his father?) would probably die some shitty death after being tortured for their money.