III. The Curious City
Without the illusion draped over the forest, Vahn found it rather dull and uninspiring. There was a tree. Oh, there was another! And another! Even a few wildflowers had bloomed alongside the roadside. Those were a touch more interesting, especially the ones Vahn plucked to keep for a potion later. Altogether, however, boring. He supposed it was just as well; no treants to beat them up.
Vahn and Hawke had hitched a ride with one of the friendly merchants from last night, following the tip Diana had given Hawke over breakfast. All the merchants that had been attacked were coming from Larkspur past the forest and she guessed if the illusions were meant to rob merchants, perhaps it was to get goods back.
Worth a shot. The illusionist couldn’t be far. Leaving a spell that intricate was silly. Even if he hadn’t been by to check on it in a bit, he wouldn’t have gone clear across the land to settle a spell down and then leave.
The merchant was not as chatty with Hawke around and even gave the poor bard snide glances as he tuned his lute on the back of the wagon. Not for any reason Vahn could discern. Vahn had elected to sit with Hawke to listen to him practice—perhaps figure out why the magic was stuck in his throat to only tumble out with words—but his attention was pulled taut by the sun streaming through the trees. Then Vahn was practicing little bursts of magic with the same sun, the light making sparkles as he strung it along.
Ever since last night, Solar Magic thankfully came easy. He only wished he’d looked up more spells to practice with. Calling the elements associated with Solar Magic—fire, earth, and light—were easy. Fire was the little embers dancing across his fingers he quickly extinguished before they ignited the mostly wooden wagon. Earth was the pebbles attempting to roll after them on the road. And light was the brilliant warmth easily called around them. Everything else with Solar Magic needed more study and understanding. Cleaning clothes was the easiest spell he knew. Perhaps he’d find a spell book somewhere he could read through.
Practicing benign Solar Magic became tiresome soon enough. The bangles grew heavier on his wrists from the exertion and he released the magic. Watching Hawke and the way his fingers worked their way across his lute like it was the only treasure he’d ever need was interesting all the same.
After being told thrice to stay with his current companion on his adventure, he’d been worried Hawke wouldn’t have believed him. While he was glad Hawke did, Vahn wished he knew why the cards had divined themselves so. Normally, they said which magic to focus on next or perhaps warned him away from certain roads. Maybe it was the magic trickling across Hawke’s voice. It came in fits and spurts and Vahn could just imagine whatever was trapped in his throat would spill out when he sung. The magic even buzzed when Hawke fingered his lute, like it wanted to work in tandem.
The lute itself was an impressive and well-kept instrument. The rosewood was exquisitely carved, the surface smooth with a floral design surrounding the hole where a crosshatch of interconnecting spirals had been placed. The strings were a gradient color, moving from white to gold to black across the bridge. When Vahn had touched it earlier, magic had warmed his fingertips, but he didn’t quite see it. Perhaps it was enchanted, but if so, Vahn wanted to know by what and why. Given the way Hawke stiffened around mentions of magic and his person, however, Vahn kept the question to himself for now.
As it was, it was mesmerizing watching Hawke’s fingers deftly work across it while it sung beneath his touch. Vahn wasn’t much for music—he never quite developed the ear from it—but he could have spent all day listening to Hawke simply tune the thing.
“What?” Hawke said teasingly and jostled Vahn with an elbow to the side. Vahn flinched and met his gaze. “You’re watching my lute really intently—you better not be thinking about fire.”
The merchant—Vahn felt bad he couldn’t recall the poor man’s name (ale had drowned it away)—made an uncomfortable snort of protest. Most of his wares were kept in the wooden chests Vahn had packed into the wagon with magic. Most of it silks, brocades—all sorts of different kinds of wealthy cloths he planned to sell in Larkspur once he arrived. He hadn’t been willing to brave the forest until the illusion was dealt with.
“I am not thinking of fire,” Vahn insisted loudly. When the merchant’s shoulders relaxed, Vahn fixed his eyes on Hawke. “Where’d you learn to play?”
Hawke’s jaw tightened. “My grandpa,” he said and Vahn listened to the magic dance across his tongue. “Gave me his old lute—but that one’s gone now.” He grinned and the magic bit back. “You know how to play anything?”
“Not a music guy,” Vahn said, borrowing Hawke’s own words. “I like listening, though.”
The grin softened into a smile that made Vahn irrationally happy. It looked good fixed on Hawke’s lips and Vahn made sure to commit it to memory. It was refreshing to have companionship with someone who was not his academic peer. Smiles were softer. Kinder. Not smug satisfaction of knowing more.
Larkspur came up before long. The wild fields tamed and flattened the closer they came and Vahn felt a shiver of magic float over him within sight of the walls. They were passing others gathering their papers to get in, but their merchant had his papers ready in his lap and they continued through the small checkpoint without fuss. He had enough prestige to get by with two unknown travelers. Handy way to skip the queue. Then they were heading beneath the open city gates.
The shiver came again, ghosting across Vahn until he was sure his skin was simply made of goosebumps, and he sat straighter. Hawke stopped tuning his lute and stilled, listening. Just the usual bustle of the city, but there was something else Vahn couldn’t quite parse.
On the other side of the gate, the city shimmered with colors and a vibrant market flourished with stalls and merchants set up for the day. The road sparkled underneath the sun, merchants sung their voices loud over everything else, and their wares were tempting beyond measure. Beyond them, flowers lined the road, hanging from baskets strung from lamplights and even overflowed from the buildings surrounding the main thoroughfare. It all popped color in every single direction Vahn gazed.
And it wasn’t until he felt Hawke’s hand on his did he realize he’d been squeezing Hawke’s shoulder to steady himself. Realize how breathing in made his lungs shiver.
It was magic. All of it.
☾
Larkspur was a no-name city working as a more neutral market hub between two realms Vahn hadn’t bothered to memorize the names of. There was no spire to take them to the Floating World, so there was no reason for Vahn to know it even existed before he came today. And there was absolutely no reason for it to have been absolutely flooded with magic the way it was. In a capitol city or a spire city that connecting the world below to the Floating World, magic was closely monitored by one of the High Magicians. Wild Magic was, after all, wild, and could harm people if not properly maintained. Whether magicians from the world below could do such a thing was a hot topic of debate, but regardless, the magic in Larkspur? A nauseating display of power with no High Magician in sight.
Afterimages of magic—floating benign threads snaking through the air like ghosts—went from plant to plant, house to house, building to building. Everything looked far too new for a no-name city; the buildings showed no signs of wear and the road looked immaculate like it had been paved yesterday.
All until Vahn forced himself to gaze past the magic overlaid on top of each other, each spell more intricate than the last, and saw the truth of it. Crumbling roads. Plants but buds in their pots. People tired and exhausted. It was a glimpse at most until he breathed in. Magic flushed him all the way through once more, making him warm, and tempted him to give in to the illusion. But he knew better now, even if he had to keep up with the shifting magics to see through it.
Vahn hastily bid farewell to their ride (Hawke thankfully threw him a few coins for his trouble) and hurried Hawke away from the growing afternoon crowd. They headed down an alley between the inn near the gates and the city’s watchtower before Vahn looked at Hawke and cursed. Illusion had already reeled him in; his eyes were glassy and unfocused, watching everything the illusion wanted him to see. The alley thankfully had duller magic than the street, but it followed after them like wisps of air.
“Hey-hey—” Hawke snapped out of it and stopped Vahn from pushing him further down the alley. Some clarity had come back to his gaze. “What gives? What’d you see?”
“Look through the coin,” Vahn said and as Hawke occupied himself pulling it off his neck, Vahn snapped his bag open. Space Magic was cold to the touch as Vahn plunged his hand inside and he thought of his quest: glasses. Magic thrummed against his fingers, spells he knew intimately, and his glasses were thrust into his palm.
“Holy shit,” Hawke hissed. “Shit. Shit. This—”
“It’s worse on the street.” Vahn swiped his thumbs over the lenses. Clear panes wired in gold. “Sun, hear my plea: show me that which hides in lies.” Solar Magic shimmered over the lenses with another swipe of his thumbs and he slipped them on. Better. The magic disappeared from in front of him, but persisted like a brilliant shimmer at the edge. All the glamour died to dull colors and broken pieces of the city.
He peered at Hawke and found him frowning.
“Seriously?” He huffed. “You get glasses and I get a dinky coin? You got another in your bag of stuff there?”
“Only one pair,” Vahn said, giving him a guilty smile. “I’ll find you one sometime. I promise.” He tugged on Hawke’s arm and he resisted. “We have to find the illusionist. He has to be here. This spell is too strong without daily upkeep.”
“Yeah—you with your glasses and me with my coin will find him in no time.” Hawke continued grumbling as he followed Vahn to the mouth of the alley. He squinted through the coin and swung his gaze across the street one way and Vahn did the same the other direction. “At least there’s no treant this time…”
For now, but Vahn swallowed the words. The city could literally be hiding anything. Vahn stopped Hawke abruptly, elbowing his stomach, and Hawke drew back as a patrolling guard ambled by. Well, what probably looked like a patrolling guard to everyone else. The glasses pulled back the magic and unveiled the… scarecrow beneath the guard tunic and cap. Hawke swore behind Vahn and was shaking his head when Vahn glanced back.
“Think the city’s in on it?”
Vahn shrugged. “If they entrust their safety to scarecrows, likely. I don’t think all the merchants are in on it, though.” He frowned, thinking of the one who had given them a ride. The poor man didn’t deserve to be given coin likely illusioned to be so from flattened stones. “We need to find the illusionist and ask him to stop the magic. Too much magic like this has adverse effects.”
“Like what?”
“When the illusion stops, massive hallucinations and an inability to return to the dull reality.” Vahn swallowed and adjusted his glasses. “When it doesn’t, migraines and the inability to discern what’s real from what’s not even away from the illusion. We should inquire in the local shops. They must have noticed the spells and when it all changed.”
If the shops did, they certainly weren’t keen on talking. Vahn continued wearing his spectacles, leaving the edges of his vision beyond too fuzzy for his liking, but one of them had to see things for how they were and Hawke couldn’t very well keep the coin up to his eye. Shops were filled with old and new merchandise alike, covered in dust and grime in others, and the workers behind the shop counters gave Vahn and his spectacles one look and told him to leave. It was like that for four shops in a row, adding to Vahn’s frustration, and after the fourth, Hawke stopped him.
“No glasses,” Hawke said. “I think they give you away more than your hair does.”
There was a sparkle across them. Vahn sighed and resigned himself to the onslaught of magic as he slipped the glasses off. Already, a migraine worked its way across his head, putting pressure on his eyes, and he neatly placed his glasses in his interior pocket. They strode into the next shop as one. It was a small herbalist shop full of medicinal herbs in jars and carefully arranged dried herbs with paraphernalia like pipes and pestles. The shopkeeper paused as they entered, peering over his half-moon glasses as he grinded a bundle of herbs together. He eyed Vahn and his gaze never once went to Hawke, even as the bard headed down an aisle to look at the herbs.
“You aren’t locals,” the shopkeeper said slowly.
“Astute!” Vahn said and dialed back his enthusiasm when the man’s face soured. Vahn held his hands up. “I just—”
“Sticking your magician nose where it doesn’t belong.” The shopkeeper straightened his back. An older man in which the magic made young again, smoothing across the wrinkles around his eyes. Didn’t help the shock of white hair receding from his forehead, however. “We don’t have a need for a Wayfarer Magician sniffing around out here. Go back to your cities.”
Vahn frowned and dropped his hands. “I am not sniffing.” If he was, he certainly would smell the herbs being mixed incorrectly. The only thing those two would make was a very quick and violent way to evacuate the bowels. “I am merely searching—”
“And you won’t find it. Leave.”
Hawke sneezed from the herb aisle he’d gone down, making Vahn and the shopkeeper jump. Hawke came back, crinkling his nose and waved his hand toward the aisle. “Sorry,” he said. “Something’s a little dry and dusty over there, I think. Can’t rightly tell.”
The shopkeeper’s whole demeanor changed as he glanced Hawke up and down. Something befitting the desire for a sale flitted across his face, making him smile. Vahn bit his tongue. Of course; Vahn looked like a magician with or without magic glasses. The illusionist must have warned the locals away from talking with any passing magician. No wonder there was so much hostility. He wanted to kick himself for not noticing it sooner.
“Sometimes we’re sensitive to herbs,” the shopkeeper said, voice much smoother. “What exactly are you looking for? I have a whole storeroom I can search through.”
Hawke thought for a moment and glanced at Vahn. It was enough to make the shopkeeper’s face sour and the look wasn’t lost on Hawke. His back tensed. “Actually, you know what, nothing.” He gripped Vahn’s arm and tugged him. “Come on, you.”
It was only when they were on the street and down a cramped alleyway of crates—busted ones on a second look with the glasses—did Hawke let go.
“That was useless,” Vahn snapped and shook his head. “They clearly distrust mages.”
Hawke raised his eyebrows. “You think?”
Vahn huffed. “Yes. I do. Perhaps you can go in alone next time. Ask them—”
“Excuse me.”
Vahn jumped, a tingle rushing down his spine, and Hawke’s reaction was the same, just maximized for his side. And a knife came out. The woman who’d spoken blocked the entrance to the alley and wasn’t even flummoxed seeing the knife Hawke quickly shoved back into his vest. She had a wide face, clear blue eyes, her blonde hair wrapped back in a bun, and a curvy figure beneath her shawl and dress.
“My apologies,” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Hawke’s tension melted out of him. “No harm done,” he said. “Can we help you?”
The woman eyed Vahn and he was tired of it. He sighed through his nose, meeting her with the warmest gaze he could muster, and she must have seen enough. There was a slight nod and she indicated over her shoulder with her thumb.
“Can we talk somewhere private? I think I know what you’re searching for.”
She certainly didn’t look dangerous, but as Vahn eagerly went to nod, Hawke settled a hand on his arm and stayed between the woman and him. Having a companion came in handy. Maybe Vahn wouldn’t get himself robbed a second time. It happened in a very similar way, actually, and it put Vahn on edge as they followed the woman through the glimmering town drenched in magic. She led them down a road going toward the mountain covered in evergreen trees just outside the open eastern gate. The magic was weaker here and Vahn peered at it above the glasses. Wisps floated between the tree nettles, but not the concentrated effort of the city.
“It’s been like that for years,” the woman said and leaned on a fence against the road. Magic hadn’t changed her much, at least. A few white streaks had come to her hair, but that was it. “Honestly, ever since I moved here with my husband, it makes my head hurt whenever I have to see past it to buy something fresh for once.”
Vahn perked up. “Oh,” he said. “You’re a hedge magician, aren’t you?” He saw it now, the magic coalescing weakly around her hands.
Hedge magicians were those who learned magic down here. Many in the World Above turned their nose down at them, believing them lesser, but Vahn had no desire to feel the same. They worked with the wild, after all, and not many magicians from home could do the same. He could learn from them just as he learned from his professors up above.
She smiled at him, lifting her eyebrows. “I can’t cast quite anything, but I am sensitive enough to observe it. My name’s Marla.”
“I’m Vahn,” he introduced, biting back from rattling off his entire title like he would have had to do in the Floating World. He nodded at Hawke who was giving the road around them a once over with his coin. Nothing but the wind and the trees, thankfully. “This is my traveling companion, Hawke.”
Marla gazed at Hawke again and gave him an appraising nod. “As normal as the day you were born, I take it?” Hawke snorted and she smiled. “Look up there.” She peered up the road and Vahn followed her gaze. There was a twinkle far off. She pointed higher and Vahn looked upward. Nestled against the trees stood a mansion.
Vahn picked the glasses off his nose and peered again. Nothing.
“See it?” Marla asked and Hawke took a look with his coin.
“There’s a mansion hidden with magic,” Vahn said.
“It used to be the Lord’s old villa. He hasn’t visited it in ages and whenever he comes by now, he never seems to remember it was ever there. I think magic is dulling his senses.” Marla crossed her arms and shrugged. “We all usually keep quiet since it’s only because of Luven we can pay his taxes at all. He’s the illusionist responsible for all this.”
Luven. Not a name Vahn knew, so likely not from the Floating World. He pursed his lips. Someone this powerful should have been known, unless there was something else at work.
“Why tell us?” Hawke asked. “If we go talk to him and he stops the illusions, you won’t be able to pass off junk as merchandise.” He let the coin rest against his chest and studied her. “What’s your stake in this? Not out of the goodness of your heart, I’m guessing.”
“I didn’t quite care until recently,” Marla admitted. “I was born and raised in a little provincial town down the way. My husband came from here and wooed me and we had a kid, all that fairy tale junk.” She flapped a hand as she spoke, dismissing it. “He missed everything he knew here so a few years back, we packed up everything and came here. The illusions weren’t bad then. I just had to let it in and breathe it out. Easy.”
Hawke crossed his arms. “What did Luven take from you?”
Marla sighed. “Every year, Luven comes down from his mansion and we throw a feast for all the luck he’s brought our piss poor city. Every time, he lines up all the girls who have a lick of magic and chooses one to be his apprentice.” Her palm went to her chest.
“Oh,” Hawke breathed.
“He took your daughter,” Vahn whispered.
“She’s twelve. Probably the strongest mage we had here and he promised he’d protect her and keep her down here. Not flitted away to live in the world up there.” Her gaze flicked upward where the shadow of one of the islands was lazily passing by overhead as if it was making an appearance simply for the effect. “For a time, I was all right with it. Molly sent us letters every week. But then, they stopped. My husband went to visit her to put my mind at ease, but then he disappeared too. No one cares. People leave all the time, they say, but I think something happened.”
Hawke glanced at Vahn and shifted uncomfortably. “The other apprentices never come back, do they?”
“Therein lies my fear,” Marla whispered. “It’s hypocritical of me, I know. I didn’t care one bit when it was someone else’s daughter, but when it was mine, it’s personal.” She shrugged her shoulders and glanced up the mountain path. “The others always let go. They usually had other children. Molly was all I had.”
“Have you gone up the path?” Vahn ventured.
“Every time I do, it spits me back out,” Marla said. She traced her finger in the air and Vahn tried to see the magic as she did. All of it was wisps to him. He didn’t know it intimately enough to pick one wisp out from the other. “There’s something beyond the first bend of trees that twists you around. I don’t have the magic to see through it.” She glanced back at him. “But I think you do.” She pushed off the fence and approached. “I don’t know what you want with Luven, but all I want to know is if my little girl is okay.”
Vahn nodded and was warmed when Marla smiled. “We’ll look for her,” he said. “Promise.”
Hawke nodded too and Marla breathed out a long sigh. “Thank you both,” she said, the weariness easing off her shoulders. “When you find something—anything—I live along the lower street near the tavern square. My house has real flowers. Promise.”
They watched her head back inside and once she was gone, Hawke eyed Vahn. “Why’d you promise that?” he hissed and Vahn gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t look at me like that. What did you even want to do with an illusionist that is totally eating girls?”
Vahn scoffed. “Magicians haven’t eaten anyone in centuries.” The way Hawke’s eyes widened and mouth tightened made Vahn realize he misspoke. He cleared his throat. “I’m serious. I-I don’t know what he’s done to the other apprentices, but I think we can find her. I’m sure she’s fine.”
He hoped she was.
“What is your plan with the illusionist?” Hawke asked. “Seriously.”
Vahn wished he had a real answer. “I merely want answers at this point,” he said and faced the path. The trees ebbed with the wind, rustling their nettles together. “You don’t have to go, you know.” Vahn smiled at Hawke, hoping it came across reassuringly. “I don’t know who Luven is, but if he did that to the town, he’s doing something that shouldn’t be done.”
Hawke shook his head. “I’m going with you,” he said. “Need someone to see the reason over the magic.” He clapped a hand on Vahn’s shoulder and Vahn was glad he caught himself before he was thrown forward this time.
Maybe a companion wasn’t so bad after all.
The road into the mountain path was quickly surrounded by evergreen trees and their branches reached across as though to touch the other side. Magic clung to the branches and every time Vahn and Hawke passed a bundle, it would try to turn them. A simple spell, all things considered. Glasses kept Vahn from being visually spun around, although he certainly felt the pull of turning back to Larkspur with his body. Unfortunately, Hawke was turned around every time and ran into Vahn as he followed the imaginary twist in the road. It was after the third time Vahn took his wrist to steady him. It stopped the bumping, but only because Hawke had elected to close his eyes and let Vahn lead him. Easier that way; couldn’t be tricked by illusions if he couldn’t see them. It was how basic illusions worked, after all.
It wasn’t a long trek though, especially once Vahn was leading, and the mansion itself came up shortly. It stood nestled in evergreen trees growing tall on either side behind an iron fence with a gate padlocked shut. Didn’t matter; Hawke was tall enough to boost Vahn over the top and he had enough magic to spell Hawke over. The mansion walls were made of dark wood, there were windows aplenty reflecting the sun in the sky, and the green tiled roof was decorated with busts of ravens and gargoyles. There was a large garden out front, rows of flowers and plants expertly pruned if not for the Solar Magic pulling back the illusion. Everything was a mess. Garden furniture overgrown, weeds more than anything intentional, and a water fountain in the center full of plants instead of the sparkling water the illusion wanted Vahn to see.
“He’s gone through a lot of trouble for appearances,” Hawke mused as he peered at everything from behind the coin. Vahn made a mental note to get him a pair of his own glasses when he found a reputable goldsmith.
“The inside’s probably not much better,” Vahn said.
“Peachy.”
The entrance was up a set of stone steps cracked with age and the double doors were a bleached snow white in contrast to the rest of the building. The doorknocker was a gaudy gold and in the shape of a snarling gargoyle. Vahn hesitated and glanced around them.
The land was quiet. Unnervingly so. Noticing it sent a shiver up Vahn’s spine. Hawke was just as tense, his jaw tight and head inclined in one direction like he was listening intently as well. Altogether, if the illusionist wanted to keep people away from the villa, he hadn’t done a very good job keeping them away. The magic could have tried harder and simply hadn’t. Vahn didn’t want to voice the worry aloud and swallowed it.
“Hear anything?” Vahn tried.
“Nothing. No animals, insects—nothing.” Hawke shook his head. “That worries me. So, we’re asking questions?” He raised his eyebrows and Vahn nodded. “Got a plan?”
“I do.” Vahn raised the knocker. “Just let me handle it.”
The door knocker landed with a thud, the sound echoing all around them in the stark silence, and it wasn’t a moment later that the door opened inward into the dark. Dawdled too long, it seemed; now, they were expected. Vahn eased out a breath and strode inside with Hawke right behind him and for all Vahn tried, once he was past the threshold, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what exactly he’d come here for as though magic had stolen it away.
🙡🙢
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