Chapter 2

“I don’t think we should continue to see each other.”

North sat down heavily in his wooden chair by the window. She had been waiting inside for him when he left work after a long night. He never knew when she was going to show up as she seemed to have her own sense of priorities that she never shared. “You said that last week; yet, here you are, Agit.”

“You’re always agitated and tense,” she said, crossing her arms under her bosom. She was leaning against the wall next to the alcove. “You still have the nightmares, and you refuse to consult the wise woman about them. I cannot keep doing this.”

“Then you had best leave, Agit,” North said. “I had a most unusual visitor tonight at the Cat’s Whisker, and she is coming back to speak further with me. No good can come of this.”

Agit stood up. “Who?”

North had suspected before that she was selling his words after he reviewed his day at her prompting these past months. The moment crystallized his hunch. He had no idea to whom she was passing on the information, but his tales must have been lucrative enough for her to return again and again. Their sex was bland, more functional than performative, transactional mostly. Even more, no matter how much spite he threw at her, she always came back around. He weighed his options for the moment.

“Sorry, Agit, you’re no longer worth the tumble in bed,” he said. “You’ve become too greedy with what I have to say. Do you sell it to the highest bidder or do you have a dedicated buyer.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said, throwing up her hands. “How dare you accuse me of such a dirty deed!” She shook out her hair for an added emphasis that North thought was ridiculous.

“You’re not that good at lying or recovering from indictments when they hit the mark either,” North said. “I’ve decided that you’ve become a danger to me and mine.” He unsheathed his mage sword but failed to rise from his chair.

Her eyes went wide before she leapt for the door, fleeing into the night. North gave out an evil chuckle before rising and re-sheathing his sword. He caught the open door with the first digit of his index finger and slammed it shut with a slight push of Power. He carefully folded his clothes and put away his weapons in their assigned spots.

He stroked the side of his cotton briefs that he had purchased at the local market last week. They were a remarkable invention and much better than anything invented thus far on his home world. The elastic, as the merchant called it, was a wonder, and the lack of itching was an ever-revealing delight. Power fueling this pocket world may have made the weekly market possible, but mortal skill illuminated his briefs, not power. He scratched his butt, reveling in the softness of the fabric.

A knock at the door had North reaching for a knife. “I know you’re still awake,” a creaky old voice shouted through the door. “Open the door, you stale fart.”

Tossing a shirt over his head, North walked over and opened the door. “You must have been watching and waiting for the fireworks. She just left.”

“Good riddance and a soured blood curse to boot,” the old woman said. “Where’re your pants? Have you no respect for your elders.” She sat down in his chair, cupping a small, lidded jar in her hands.

“My apologies,” North said with anything but remorse in his words. “I had no idea I would have further visitors this early in the morning. Surely, most people of good sense are deep in their pillows in this still dark.”

The old woman looked around the room, cataloging every item that was out and sitting on a surface. “Who the hell can go to sleep when gods disturb the ebb and flow of Power with their presence,” she said. “They’re like a cat taking a dump in the middle of the feasting table. You can’t miss it, and the smell is inescapable.” She stared at him, daring him to protest.

“I’m sure said gods might be a bit perturbed by your description of their presence as cat shit, but that’s a quibbling detail. How did you know the gods were here tonight while Agit was cluelessly fishing for names and deeds?” North shoved his knife in his pocket after he buttoned his pants.

The old lady burbled her lips with sarcasm. “She has no gift and no skills except for opening her legs. Big ole’ titties don’t stay up forever, North, and if that’s all you got on offer, life is going to get awful mean and cruel soon enough. I suppose that lesson is crashing down upon her head about now.”

North shook his head. “Is this the bard’s lament about old whores and broken soldiers?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” she said. “Small truths and disturbing dreams, mostly buried, rising to the top when the gods disturb the peace. Did they come for you?”

“Me?” North’s head swiveled sharply to face her. “Of all the people who live in this little crossroads of the worlds, why would the gods take notice of me?”

She pursed her lips and held up the jar in her lap, “My latest concoction. You must try it.”

“What does it do?” North said, eyeing the jar warily.

“This cream removes scar tissue caused by magic damage,” she said with a smirk. “Ain’t nothing like this salve in any of the worlds.”

“Ah, yeah, just like the last cream you swore would cure cancer, and Nater still died ... of cancer, no less. Thank you, but no,” North said, rubbing the long scar under his right ribs. “I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”

“Nater died of being a sickly old bastard,” she snapped. “Between the diabetes, the heart disease, and the lung cancer, the question was not when, but which condition would have the honor of pushing his last leg into the grave. The gods know he was never one to take care of himself. Besides, he was my experimental creature for my cure; he was too far gone to ever recover.”

“Nater’s at peace; let him stay there,” North said.

The old woman clucked her tongue. “You brought him up.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why?” North crossed his arms. “What’re you hiding, Gartin?”

“Answer my question first: Did Derron say who the gods were?”

North shook his head. “No, he said their glamours were too difficult to penetrate. They weren’t there to see me, though.”

“You know this, how?” Gartin turned her head slightly to view him from a different perspective.

“They had another confirmed guest.”

“Ah, the story becomes more intriguing,” Gartin responded, rubbing her hands together, her jar resting in her lap forgotten. “The grand reveal is upon us – who was this mysterious guest?”

North rubbed the small scar on his face while pinching his lips. “Nothing good can come of this for me. I’m of a mind to pack up my bag and move on down the Celestial Way.”

“Whatever you’re contemplating won’t work, North. These are gods after all, who see farther and delve deeper into the spheres than we do, whose very existence is bound within the Power. Wherever you step, from whatever vessel of air you breathe, they will know your presence with an exactitude you cannot escape.” She patted his knee. “Speak.”

“The Court of the Crimson King.”