CHAPTER SEVEN: THE BRETHREN
Fawkes stepped into the Oddes Shoppe, letting JuJu in before closing the door. It had been a good meal with Bristol and he still felt jovial.
Meal? It had been a flapjack battle. Fawkes smiled then covered a burp. He had won by one flapjack.
The only customer in the modest shop, a man counting out his coins, dropped some little thing into his belt pouch.
"Thank you, Mons Deerwest," the customer said to the man behind the counter, who looked as old as Grandfather, then stepped out of the shop. Fawkes closed the door behind him.
"Greetings, Brother Fawkes," Mons Deerwest said and rested his folded hands on the counter.
"Greetings, Father Burnyrd. I come with a problem."
"We are still waiting to hear about your grandfather's vault from the Margar Master House," Father Burnyrd said in a patient tone. This was not the first time Fawkes had heard him say that.
After the destruction of the Gateways ended instantaneous travel all over the world three years ago, everything changed. The Brethren, once secretly based in the Grand Archives that stood at the ethereal center of the Gateways which gave them access to everywhere in the world, the Oddes Shoppe had simply been a remote archive for them. But ever since the loss of the Gateways, The High Guild of Magic also lost its access to the Grand Archives which had been their great center of power. They had used the Gateways to control all the realms of the world.
It collapsed when the Gateways vanished and split into rival factions that warred with each other at first over who was to blame and then used each other as scapegoats to feed to the wrath of outraged realms. The Brethren, always secretive, had to be even more secret these days. Seeing to the affairs of members and their families was done with great skill and care.
"Oh, da -- ahh, dang it," Fawkes blurted out. He would like to someday get into Grandfather's vault here in Blackstone. He gave his head a quick shake. "Actually, I have a different problem. The Hand moved It but died to some nisslings last night. Now those little buggers have It."
"Nisslings attacked in town? The Townwatch isn't riled up."
"Happened outside of town, in some old orchard." Fawkes eyed an array of quill nibs on a nearby shelf. Keep it vague and so mundane sounding the old man won't ask questions. "Down on some path."
Father Burnyrd arched a brow at Fawkes.
Oh no, not the questions. Fawkes thought and swallowed a groan.
"And you weren't noticed by anyone?"
Fawkes rolled his eyes.
"No, Father. I went by moonlight and one of the dogs tracked them while we stayed too far back to see anything." He crossed his arms. "Which is why they were already dead and pierced with those nasty little quarrels."
"You sure it was nisslings?"
"Their livers were missing and there was no trail to follow as they flew off somewhere."
"Have you tried scrying for it, Brother Fawkes?" Father Burnyrd asked in a lecturing tone.
"Of course not. There's a wizard around and the sack is enchanted, it's a good way to get found out."
"With your beginning levels of magic?" He arched a stern brow, making Fawkes flush. "Your magic would be nothing more than a drop in a rain shower if it fell right where a wizard was 'looking'."
Fawkes rubbed the side of his nose as he struggled to not argue with Father Burnyrd.
"Your scrying only works on a map. Unless this wizard was already watching you or your map, that type of scrying is unnoticeable."
"That sack is covered with enchantments that would warn the wizard, Father. He would certainly be watching that!"
"As for whatever enchantments he has on the sack, you must actively cast magic on it for them to react." He stopped lecturing until Fawkes met his eyes. "Stronger more direct viewing scry magic will be noticed, but not what you can do right now."
Fawkes blinked, still frowning.
Damnation, why didn't I think of that? Sigils were just magic waiting to be triggered. That glow a trained eye could see was their magic all coiled and waiting to be released. He thought over the collection of maps he had aboard the Gosling.
A middle-aged man came out from the back carrying a full shopping basket draped with a blue and white checkered cloth. He set it on the counter and tucked the edges of the cloth into the basket.
"These'll see you through a few more days," the man said.
Though the Oddes Shoppe sold simple charms, most of its customers bought paper, inks, and quills. Fawkes did not need more but the Brethren were as strict about keeping up appearances as Grandfather had been.
Of course they were, Fawkes thought with a little huff. Grandfather was their leader.
JuJu bumped Fawkes' leg hard enough to stagger him.
"Thank you, Brother Symel," Fawkes straightened. He cleared his throat and turned back to Father Burnyrd. "Is there any news?"
"I am still waiting to hear from the monastery," the old man said in a patient tone. "This is a very important decision, Fawkes."
"I understand, Father," Fawkes admitted. With Grandfather dead, someone else needed to lead the Brethren. Even more important, would Fawkes still get to be one of them going about doing secret work under the guise of being a spice merchant? What would he do if he was just another acolyte of the goddess of secrets? "It's just that ..." His voice trailed off as he could not find the right words.
"It's just that you are still quite young and any time passing feels like ages to you yet."
Fawkes glared at Father Burnyrd in the manner all young men did when older men unfairly pointed out their youth. The old man cocked a brow back at Fawkes.
The shop door opened and a young woman came in with an empty basket.
"Good day, Mons Deerwest," she greeted Father Burnyrd then smiled at Brother Symel. Like everyone else in Blackstone, she had no idea that the two men behind the counter were more than simple shopkeepers.
Fawkes swallowed what he wanted to say and picked up the basket on the counter.
"Thank you," he said and left for the Gosling. It was time to do some magic.
