[Memory] The Purloined Keepsake pt II

[Hakon]

He did as he was bade by Andros, and watched as the man, was able to stay afloat in the water -- Hakon had tried but he'd sunk like a stone; whatever Andros was made of, it was more buoyant stuff -- and also calm the animals. He knew intellectually that people outside of the guild had skills: they knew how to make thread, or farm, or weave. They produced the goods that he relied on to stay alive, and he was thankful for that. It was another thing altogether to see someone demonstrate their skills in front of him. By the time he reached the shore, he found himself quite impressed by Andros. And if he hadn't known better, he would have assumed that the way the man moved through the water was a magic all its own.

Once the other man had reached the shore, Hakon changed with him, and using his wet clothes to scrape the water off of his body. He was chilled, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"Perhaps, Andros, you could teach me how you did that," Hakon said through gritted teeth. Admitting to weakness was detestable, but he was not so proud that he could not admit he could use assistance. "I'm not sure we will find the time, but if we do, it would be helpful. I never thought I would need to learn how to swim here in Radenor, but if this had been a more dangerous situation, it could have gone quite badly. Had we been in pursuit of our quarry, for instance, they would have escaped due to my slowing us down."

Clad in a change of clothes and chilled but dry, he gave his mount the same treatment, as well as offering her the green tops of some carrots he'd swiped from the midden before leaving as a little inducement for her trouble.

Heinrich was already back in his armor and was all but pacing a new lane in the road, so Hakon turned to Andros. "Shall we move on?"

[Andros]

There was a brief moment when Andros felt as strong and lithe as he did at 20, proud of himself for showing the two younger men he still had it. That ended when he felt a pain in shoulders that he knew would last for days and started to shiver a bit in his dry clothes. He needed to eat more, he thought. Too skinny. A little drink from his wineskin, the good stuff from Teos, warned him up a bit.

Hakon sounded gracious but looked humiliated. Andros would have been the same way at his age, taking help from a grandfather. But there’s no shame in not knowing how to swim. Andros soothed his ego a bit.

“Could you help me up? I wore myself out.”

He took Hakon’s enormous hand and used it to lever himself back up on his mount. Hakon climbed onto his own horse and Heinrich led then down the road

“Thank you, my friend,” Andros said as they rode. “Yes, I’d be glad to teach you. And I owe you a debt for your help. Tell me - you seem like a very skilled investigator. Have you caught many rogue mages?”

[Hakon]

Hakon felt a bit better after helping Andros back onto his horse. The other man's intuition had been right: he'd been feeling useless, and being able to do something, anything properly had helped tremendously. He was cheered that Andros was willing to teach him how to swim. He detested being a burden or feeling weak, but if he let his pride get in the way he'd never improve. He'd meant what he said, though: finding this rogue came first, and it was quite possible Andros would simply not find the time. Presumably, he had buying and selling to get back to once their mutual business was concluded. Which was a pity, because he actually rather liked Andros.

First of all, he was from faraway Teos! Hakon had read about it in passing, but had no real understanding of what life was like there. It had little bearing on his day to day life or his occupation, so other than learning some basic facts about it, he hadn't bothered. He mostly knew about Radenor, quite extensively, and enough about Daravin to know that Jorikford had the misfortune of being adjoined to the worst place in the world. He knew the names and some basic information about the other countries, especially their attitudes toward magic and toward mages, but otherwise was rather at sea. Also, his casual mentioning of his kids and grandkids -- this was why he did the job he did for Radenor. To let good people like this have good lives. He was helping this man now for the same reason. By stamping out the scourge of unregulated magic, people like Andros could have safe and happy lives, and there was a lot of pride in that.

He didn't get a chance to answer Andros' question, because Heinrich cut in with a sneer audible through his armor: "The Magus is not an investigator. We have others who are. They send in Hakon when they know what the outcome will be already."

Hakon whipped his head around to glare at Heinrich, who shrugged at him.

"What? I will not lie to spare your ego or to make conversation."

Hakon took a few breaths through his nose and then answered Andros' question in light of the information Heinrich had provided. "He's... not wrong, Andros. There are other mages within the Guild who are better suited for investigating, or for tracking, for that matter. I have been sent out on missions for seven years now, and on my own for two. I am generally designated rogue assignments if there is a low chance of capture.I can't say if this was the First Warden's intent or if he merely assigned me to this mission because I, as you say earlier, stuck my neck out. In either case, though, as a Mentalist who is hiding his abilities and using them on an unsuspecting populace, he's unlikely to come willingly or quietly. Should we find him, I anticipate tracking him down and ending his life."

Hakon was not self-congratulatory about this fact, nor excited. He discussed this like most men would discuss whether they'd like a dark beer or a light ale with their supper. It was apparent from the way he discussed this that this was an everyday reality for him.

[Andros]

Andros listened intently. He didn’t like that Heinrich seemed to be putting Hakon down, putting him in his place. He couldn’t tell if there was some personal bad blood or if Hakon waslooked down on as a magus.

He was ready to intervene on Hakon’s behalf. The young man asked good questions. He knew what he was doing. He could clearly accomplish more than Heinrich thought. Why couldn't he investigate, even if that wasn’t his assignment?

And besides, he treated Andros with respect on-sight where he got contempt from Heinrich until he helped him across the river. Andros likes him.

But he didn’t get an opportunity because Hakon casually mentioned that he was going to murder the thief. Andros recoiled physically when he heard that. He couldn’t help it. He pulled his arms in around himself and hunched over on his mount, the look of disgust on his face unmistakable.

“You’re going to kill the rogue? Just for theft?”

Maybe he misunderstood. On Mikronisi the thief was always known to the victim. The problem waaresolved with three-fold restitution if the thief can afford it, or a term of labor service to the victim if he can’t. For a second offense there would be public shaming, and for repeat offenders there’s the stocks. Banishment is available for incorrigibles. But not death. Surely Hakon wouldn’t kill a mage he’s never heard of mist on the word of some foreign stranger. It’s too awful to believe.

On the other hand, summary justice seemed to have been the rule in Daravin. Serfs faces death if they so much as looked at their lord wrong. You couldn’t miss the gallows in every roadside village, often with one or two corpses left dangling for the birds. The memory of it makes Andros shudder. What an awful place that was. He’d hoped Radenor would be different.

Andros spoke up, firmly but quietly.

“You won’t kill the man, will you? Please don’t, not on my account. I just want my locket back.”

[Hakon]

Heinrich, who was twenty years old and knew everything, replied to Andros in a tone dripping with contempt: "We're not going to kill him for stealing from you, old man."

Hakon waited a moment for Heinrich to go on, but then the guard didn't. It seemed that all he'd wanted to do was insult Andros.

As usual with Heinrich, it was up to Hakon to pick up the pieces. He started by not letting the insult slide: "By the Path, Heinrich, you could show a bit of respect to Andros! It wouldn't kill you to not be such an asshole all the time. Andros is a foreigner in our lands, and doesn't know our ways."

Heinrich didn't reply and instead sped his horse up to ride on ahead.

Hakon then turned his attention to the man riding by his side. "Sorry about him, Andros -- he's been in the Scarlet Watch for four years now and his mood is often like this. I don't mind going out on missions with him because he's capable in his duties, but he can be quite rude. To answer your question, the issue is not the theft, per se -- you are right that theft is punishable in the four kingdoms by repayment, inprisonment, or indenture, but not death, generally speaking. The issue is that he is a rogue mage. All rogue mages are to be brought to the nearest guild, escorted to the border, or quelled -- killed, that is. No quarter and no exception. And since he already has committed a crime in this land by stealing from you, exile from Jorikford is not something we will allow. He is to join us, or die."

"As this man is a Mentalist -- a subtle discipline generally used by those who wish to deceive others -- it is highly unlikely he will be interested in a life with the Guild, where he is not allowed to leave without an escort and permission from his superior, and he is expected to devote his life to improving Jorikford and making it safe for the citizenry. I will make an attempt to bring him to the guild, but if he demonstrates he is not interested in coming, or he attempts to use his abilities on me, or Heinrich, or you..." Hakon trailed off and patted the mace by his side. "It will not go well for him."

Perhaps this was a bit grim, so he hastened to reassure Andros. "You needn't have any fear. Heinrich has an acid tongue but he's a good shot with that crossbow, and I am no stranger to what will likely transpire, myself." This time he smiled, though there was little humor in it. More the expected satisfaction of a job well done. Every rogue was dangerous in their own way, and Hakon was not confident that victory would be without consequence, but he felt surety in his heart that victory would come for him nevertheless.

[Andros]

Heinrich had all the tact of a goat’s hindquarters. Superior and contemptuous. Hakon was handling the fact that he needed help from the “old man” a lot better, not lashing out like a child. Well, Heinrich was practically a child. Not that any of the girls ever spoke to Andros that way. At home, respect for elders was a given.

Hakon, at least, had some manners.

“I don’t mind him. I am an old man, and it’s getting worse - I’m older every day.” He laughs at his joke. “If that’s the worst thing I’m called living in this country as a poor foreigner, I reckon I’m doing very well for myself.”


Manners, yes, but an appallingly callous attitude towards killing. Hakon sounded so hardened, more than his years could justify. Only painful experience does that to a person. Andros could almost read it on Hakon’s face, as clearly as Hakon could read age on Andros’ wrinkled brow..

“I understand. You’ve got laws. It’s not all barbaric. It’s a hard path though. Killing hurts the killer, too. And I don’t get the sense you chose this difficult life. Am I right? Do they make you do this work?”

As he asked, they rounded the top of a hill and caught sight of the border town where Andros been robbed. It was quite picturesque from this angle, a collection of maybe 50 buildings of various sizes with a large public square in the center and a pleasant wooded park by the river.

Daravin had few towns, at least that he’d seen. Castles and palaces for the nobility, villages of dumpy little huts for the serfs, and nowhere a peddler could put down his pack in between.This place, though it was on the Daravin side of a small stream, had the air of Radenor. The innkeeper was Daravain but most of the people Andros had met when he was here were Norunn; travelers, merchants, shopkeepers, servants. They made the town rather bright. It was some kind of holiday in Radenor - when isn’t it? - and the sound of festive music carried uphill to the mage, the guard, and the peddler.

“Well, even if the thief is gone, at least we’ll have some good food and company tonight,” Andros commented as they started down the hill towards the bridge that led into the town. The likelihood that the rogue had skipped town and he wouldn’t ever see that locket again distressed him, but he was trying to keep up a good attitude.

Henrich’s eyes lit up when he heard the music. Clearly he fancied a night of dancing and drink as much as any man his age, but he put a scowl back on his face when Andros spoke up. It must have made him feel juvenile or unserious.

“We’re here to work, stranger, not for pleasure. If you want to get back to your peddling, you’d better bear that in mind.”

Andros ignores the nastiness. Heinrich is puffed up and obnoxious, that’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have to like the man to hope he succeeds in his mission.

[Hakon]

Hakon looked at Andros without respect in his eyes for the first time at the other man's declaration that killing hurt the killer. "My chief regret in life, Andros, is that I don't get to quell more rogues. They are a pestilence upon this world, and were I given the power to end their foul chokehold on our continent, I would. I do not feel killing them harms me in the slightest. Does beating a rug free of dirt harm the rug? Does amputating a gangrenous limb harm the body? Perhaps in some small way, but it must be done lest the entire thing succumb to filth or rot. I am proud to be the instrument that carries through with this work."

That more or less ended that conversation, but Hakon felt it needed to be said. He was not a pacifist, and while he had not chosen this life, he was happy to be doing something meaningful and helpful for the community that had ensured he was cared for and not allowed to grow up to prey on others, unlike so many other mages.

The town, like many towns along the border between Radenor and Daravin, was beautiful. The water lent it prosperity and an idyllic quality that the landlocked towns in more protected portions of the border lacked. As they approached the stately tavern where Andros had last seen the man who robbed him, Hakon found himself excited to be here.

Once inside, he used his Huntersight, casting about for recent etheric traces. He was surprised and delighted to find that there was something here. An after image, like the groove water can wear into rocks over time. Someone cast magic here frequently enough that there was a sort of eddy about the place, a residual impression of etheric discharge. That was heartening news, and proved in his mind that Andros was telling the truth. Or at least, it made it far more likely. He'd already believed the merchant -- what sane man would hand over all his worldly possessions just because he was drunk -- and this demonstrated to him that his theory on what had transpired may be on target.

He walked up to the innkeeper, and pulled down his collar to expose his brand. "Guild business. Looking for someone," he said. "Taller than average, black hair streaked with grey, was definitely in here within the last week."

The innkeeper, a solid looking man with incurious eyes, shrugged. "Lots of people in and out of here."

Hakon let out a breath through his nose, his nostrils flared. "He would have stood out. There was lots of rejoicing and backslapping, and copious amounts of wine being purchased."

Wine, not beer. He was surprised he hadn't thought of that before. It indicated the rogue was either from Daravin or preferred their style of cuisine. If he struck out here, it would make more sense to cross the stream using one of the foot bridges and check the dwellings of what was technically just over the border. The rogue probably felt safer there, thinking that the Guild wouldn't cross national lines, but perhaps as well he was simply comforted by dwelling in a place he had an affinity for.

"Sounds like a good customer," the innkeeper stated flatly. "Not a nosy busybody like you."

Had Heinrich not strolled in when he did, Hakon would have lost his temper. "Sorry, Sir," he said. "I was stabling our animals. Can I have a round of beer for the three of us? And my apologies for the behavior of my charge," he said, smirking at Hakon. "You know how mages can be -- impetuous and foolhardy. We'll have some of your excellent ale, perhaps some cheese and bread if you have it, and then come back with questions afterward," he said that last statement pointedly aimed at Hakon.

Hakon's fist bunched at his side briefly, but then his shoulders slumped. Heinrich, damn him, was right. Just beacuse the innkeeper had a civic duty to assist him, it didn't mean he had to do so eagerly and politely. Maybe some coin would loosen the man's tongue, and he could certainly use a meal, besides.

Once they were seated at a trestle table out of earshot of the innkeeper, Hakon turned to Andros. "Does being back here jog any memories of the evening, Andros?" He relayed to the man that he did indeed see evidence of etheric activity. "Do you remember the mage leaving, for instance? Or did he go upstairs, indicating he may rent a room here? The etheric trail is not so recent that I can follow it directly to its source, so we may have to rely on our wits to find our man."

[Andros]

Heinrich was right, and that made everything worse. Andros had cringed when he watched Hakon try to interrogate the barman without even a hint of a personal connection. Perhaps he wasn’t suited for investigation, as Heinrich had said with a sneer.

The insanity Hakon had spewed on the way into town was still ringing in Andros’ ear as the barman brought them refreshments. He sounded so serious and devoted when he talked about his job as a hit man. It made Andros wonder what had happened to him, what kind of brainwashing the Scarlet Guard had done on him to make a polite, sober-minded young man into a serial killer.

Still, Hakon was his serial killer, at least until he got his stuff back. And as Hakon suspected, being here jogged Andros’ memory quite a bit.

“The barman is lying. I remember the rogue chatting with him for a long time before we started to talk. I think they were working together. Or maybe he’s under the mage’s spell.”

Andros concentrated. He tried to reconstruct his time with the mage, focusing on details in the room that he could see. First the large table where he’s been sitting with a group when the mage approached him. His wobbly chair, the grain of the wood, and the smell of stale beer. Then the shakeof the hand, oddly cold.

Walking over to that big table and running his hand over it, Andros could picture the mage clearly, his introduction then his walk over to a small corner table. Andros retraced his steps, then put his hand on the chair he had sat in in the corner. He recalled the mage politely pulling the chair back for him. Andros pulled it back and sat down. Suddenly he could almost sense the mage’s hands on his shoulders and the terror that made him feel, like a mouse cornered by the cat. Then he recalled a strange sense of calm, and there the memory stopped cold.

Andros had become completely lost in his thoughts. When he came back to reality he realized he was sobbing quietly into his hands. The sense of having his mind violated was very raw. Anger that had been put aside came rushing back in. He went back over to his companions and sat down, taking a big swig of ale.

“His name was Otho. I’m sure of it. He should die if you can’t stop him from doing this to anybody else.”

[Hakon]

Hakon downed his beer and clapped Andros on the shoulder. "Take heart, Andros. He will."

Heinrich opened his mouth to say something characteristically nasty about how a grown man was crying, then shut it when Hakon glared at him and just chose to roll his eyes and drink his beer instead. Evidently, for all his bluster he did not wish to actually push the mage over much. Instead, he went over to the innkeeper and engaged him in conversation. Hakon just thought Heinrich was ordering another round, but he returned with more than beer.

"The old man's right. Innkeeper gets a cut of whatever Otho takes in and helps him carry out the scam. He all but admitted it. I told him it was not his fault that he was under the sorcerer's evil spell, and that this was his chance to help us, and he went for it."

Hakon opened his mouth to say something: about how this was improper, how Mentalism didn't work like that, anything. Heinrich put a hand up to cut him off.

"I'm aware, Magus, but this is the real world, not your little tower. Do you want to do everything by the book or do you want to get your man."

Hakon's mouth set into a firm line. He wanted to do both. If it were one or the other, though, he'd prefer to nail Otho than to let him go free because he insisted on procedure.

"Anyway, Jorg -- the inkeep's named Jorg, by the way, not that you asked -- gave us a neighborhood to look in. Just over the bridge," Heinrich said too casually.

Over the bridge, in Daravin, where they were technically not allowed to haul a mage away. Hakon wondered if Andros knew that or would pick up on it. He'd figured their quarry would be there from almost the beginning of hearing this tale, and it didn't bother him. He was preying on people in Jorikford. His present location mattered very little, and the prospect of bringing in someone from Daravin excited him. So he didn't exclaim or make a fuss about it.

"Good," he replied, "That narrows our search significantly. Thank you, Heinrich."

That earned him another eyeroll, though Heinrich also mumbled something under his breath that sounded a bit like you're welcome. Hakon grinned. From Heinrich, that was like a marriage proposal.

The mage place a large arm around Andros' shoulders and gave the other shoulder a squeeze. "Take your time, Andros. We'll be with you, this time. The man's magic won't work on Heinrich at all, and I should be able to counter it with some of my own. What's more, you know what he is, now. You won't be walking in blind and unprotected. Still, if you don't want to come with us for this part, you don't have to. You can stay here and we can come back for you when our work is complete if you'd prefer."

[Andros]

“No,” Andros replied flatly, calming himself down. He smiled weakly at Hakon, who was treating him kindly. The hand around his shoulder was nice and helped dispel his sudden episode of sadness.

He wasn't usually much of a crier, not since Elena’s death anyway. The overwhelming feeling of violation had caught him off guard. He hadn’t realized how upsetting it had been until he remembered it a little better. He’d only been angry about the locket and the trade goods, but now he becoming enraged that some thieving witch invaded his mind, manipulated his thoughts, and took advantage of him. And for what? Very little. He’s no nobleman. It would have been obvious to the rogue that he wan’t a wealthy target, certainly not wealthy enough to justify risking coming to the attention of the Scarlet Guard.

The more Andros remembered, the angrier he got. His body language changed. He stepped harder on the wet, packed-earth street as they left the inn, splattering mud onto the bottom of his trousers. His shoulders rolled forward, and a scowl crossed his face. Andros is fundamentally a gentle man, but he wanted this villain captured and punished. And so did Hakon and Henrich, clearly. They crossed the border into Daravin without a word. Whether their actions would be legal or not didn’t seem to matter, and at the moment that didn’t matter to Andros either. What use to him were the laws of Radenor or whatever rules the guild operated under?


Heinrich led the group through a district on the Daravin side of town dominated by craftsmen’s workshops and a block of single-story warehouse buildings. The hammering of iron and the grunting and cursing of porters echoed out over the streets, making conversation impossible. It was just as well, because this was a rare time when Andros couldn’t have handled small talk. He didn’t want to hear more of Heinrich’s contempt or Hakon’s lunacy.

Finally they reached the neighborhood Jorg had described. Two-story buildings, solidly constructed and well-kept with shops on the lower floor and homes above, standard in any market town the world over. Henrich picked one of the buildings at random and knocked on the door. A fat, sweaty woman came out, face and clothing spattered with flour. She wiped her hands on her apron as Heinrich went through pleasantries and then asked if she knew Otho.

Her frightened expression revealed she did, even as her gap-toothed mouth denied it. He must be known in this district, and not well-liked either.

“Jorg wasn’t lying,” Henrich said to his companions. “The rogue must lodge around here, and he’s probably terrorizing his neighbors. Hakon - Huntersight? Can you get us closer?”