Mountain Barber
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The Wrong Librarian Part 2
🕑 Added 2020-09-06 21:05:32 +0000 UTCAgain, so so sorry this one is late. I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen again, 2020 is just... terrible and overwhelming. Also, making part 2 work necessitated making a couple minor changes to part 1, so if you see any contradictions, that's why. (Notably, changing the number of lots in the auction.)
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The other three were still asleep when Calrin returned with his news from Lemannen’s university. He waited quite patiently for them to awaken so he could share the news.
Well, patiently with a treatise on the history of travel across the enormous mud flats of Gelid that he’d borrowed from his contact at the university, at least.
He even waited patiently for them to collect themselves, so as not to overwhelm them while they were still groggy.
It didn’t matter, of course. They didn’t pay him a lick of attention. Not after waking up, not while eating, not even while preparing for the first night of the auction.
There was, of course, a trick to catching the attention of someone who didn’t want to give it to you, but it was one Calrin had never mastered. Lots of tricks, in fact. It was more that Calrin had never been able to push through the wall of awkwardness and resentment that they all required. He’d definitely tried, but he was halfway convinced they would have ignored him if he’d been yelling and waving in their face.
Irilin politely but firmly told him she was busy when he tried to speak to her.
Mendis snarled at him, and told him to “Sod off, counterfeit.”
Sala ignored him entirely when he tried to speak to her.
Calrin sighed, and decided not to bother. If they didn’t want to listen, that was their problem, not his.
He knew how foolish that was on his part, give the importance of his news. He knew he should keep trying to get the attention of the other three, to convince them of the importance of his news, but…
In all honesty, he really had no reason to want them to succeed on their end of things. He was there to advise the other on specific lots in the auction, and to pretend to be his brother so no-one would start a fight with the others.
At least, no-one in the circles they ran in. His brother might be just about the most dangerous battle-mage in the world of high-stakes manuscript acquisition, but Hendris was rather less well known outside those circles.
Regardless, Calrin honestly didn’t care how the heist went.
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They left at sunset for the first night of the auction. The auction house was only a few towers away as the drake flew, but the walk there was considerably longer than that— longer, even, than Calrin’s trip to the towers of the university, despite the fact they were much farther away as the drake flies.
Distance in Lemannen was a curious thing. The city took up surprisingly little space for having the second largest population of any city in Tsarnassus after the capital. In geographic area, it only took up about as much space as a mid-sized town. If the city were gone, its land— at least in dry season— could be traversed from one end to the other in less than an hour.
Since Lemannen and its towers were there, anyone wishing to cross it on foot would take a full day.
The first problem traversing Lemannen had to do with the fact that the bridges weren’t always laid out particularly sensibly. Some of the largest towers connected with as many as a half-dozen nearby towers, often with bridges on multiple levels. Other towers, however, had clear and obvious gaps. Two adjacent towers might have no bridges connecting them, and might require you to pass through a half-dozen other towers to cross from one to the other.
There was one famous pair of towers built early in the city’s history by two rival families that were adjacent, yet had no bridges connecting them. Their grudge had been so severe that they’d conspired to make it as difficult as possible to travel from one tower to the other, by bribing other towers to demolish bridges and preventing new towers from throwing up bridges that would shorten the trip. A distance short enough to almost throw a rock across grew until it took hours to traverse, without the towers ever moving.
Both families were long gone, but the gap had remained for many years until someone had built a bridge between those two towers, which promptly became the busiest bridge in Lemannen.
If all that weren’t difficult and complex enough, there were the difficulties going up and down.
In an ideal world, you might simply be able to travel up and down freely in each tower. Unfortunately, that was the farthest thing from the truth. A great many families had closed off their floors to outsiders entirely, while other towers had been built deliberately so that no-one could freely ascend and descend. Others had tolls to pass, while others still allowed passage only one direction vertically. As a general rule of thumb, it was easier to descend than ascend.
It was hard to reach the halls of high society in most cities, but in Lemannen, the difficulty was much more literal— as was the term high society.
The ability to fly wasn’t so useful as one might assume, either. Flight over the city was forbidden at night without special dispensation, the rules enforced by gryphon patrols.
The skies were hardly empty, however— in fact, Calrin had never seen so many fliers at once, even ignoring the gryphon riders. He could spot everything from force mage messengers bounding between the towers to wind mages flying in clusters to enchanted carriages drifting leisurely across the city.
Special dispensations to fly were hardly rare, merely expensive— and Keayda’s forces, as always, operated on a threadbare budget.
In the end, it took them over an hour to walk to the auction.
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Despite the relative ease with which he’d found the university earlier in the day, it had taken him far longer to find Zera’s office. The university was such an absolute maze of towers and bridges, not to mention cramped halls and offices, that Calrin had vaguely entertained the idea that he’d wandered into a labyrinth.
He’d had to ask directions no less than seven times before a frazzled looking journeyman scholar led him to the hallway her office was in. He’d never have found it on his own— the hallway was placed at such an odd angle that you could only spot it while traveling the tower counterclockwise, and the direction of foot traffic was overwhelmingly clockwise.
There were five doors in the tiny hallway, and the second on the right bore the name Zera Ustenna on it.
“Come in!” a voice called, in response to his knock.
Calrin eased the door open and slipped into the tiny windowless office, which appeared to be around three-fourths filled with piles of books, shelves packed with scrolls, crates filled with loose papers, and countless knickknacks, broken quills, and other detritus. At least a dozen monkey-form origami golems clambered about the mess, constantly moving, storing, and retrieving various texts.
One of them, he noticed, appeared to be sleeping.
“Can I help you?” Zera said, looking up curiously from behind her desk.
Zera was a short, mousy woman with thick spectacles and frizzy brown hair that jutted out in all directions. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, like him, which was a bit of a surprise- he’d always assumed she was older when reading the letters she sent on various academic topics.
“Zera?” Calrin asked, just to be sure, and promptly cursed himself inside his head for his awkwardness.
“That’s what the name on the door says, so I should hope so,” Zera said. “And you are…?”
He took a deep breath. He really shouldn’t be doing this, he was supposed to be concealing his identity and posing as his brother. Still, who knew when he’d next get to visit Lemannen, if ever? It was a risk well worth taking, and, if he was to be honest, he couldn’t really say he was that particularly worried about whether the mission succeeded.
“Calrin,” he said, feeling even more awkward. “Calrin of Drakescale Hill? I work in Keayda’s library, and we’ve been corresponding for a few years now on late Ithonian cartography? I…”
Zera was out of her seat in a blink, and before he’d even managed to react, had wrapped him in a hug fierce enough to make his ribs creak.
“Calrin, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you in person! Why didn’t you write ahead and tell me you were coming? I would have prepared a much more formal greeting than this. I could have thrown a department banquet— I guarantee everyone would have been delighted to meet you, or at least argue with you over some minor detail in one of your papers! Please, sit! Can I get you something to eat? Tea, perhaps?”
Calrin’s mind blanked, overwhelmed by the torrent of words, but Zera didn’t seem to notice. She gestured idly, and the huge stack of books and papers filling the seat floated up into the air adjacent to a shelf, and origami golems began carrying them away to be shelved.
“So what brings you to Lemannen?” Zera asked.
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The four of them had, to Calrin’s surprise, excellent seats in the auction. Despite their comparatively shabby garb— well, entirely shabby, if he were to be honest— the four of them were escorted to a balcony close to the stage, with enchanted viewing glasses capable of granting quite a close look at the items for sale.
To Calrin’s further surprise, they even worked for him— something of a surprise, considering how many enchanted items wouldn’t work for the mind-blind.
Keayda had been sending his agents to bid at the auction for as long as Lemannen had its huge auction house, which took up four whole floors’ worth of a huge tower— a prodigious waste in Lemannen, a city so concerned with space. That longstanding relationship was probably why they’d merited a seat in the auction.
That was the great irony of the city— there were city-states on cramped islands less concerned with saving space, despite the fact that Lemannen was built on a plain. Tsarnassus had more than enough mages to extend the walls of the city and build more towers whenever necessary, but the people of the city almost seemed revolted by the thought, and built their towers ever higher instead, expanding the walls only when they absolutely had to.
Calrin ignored the quiet chatter of the other three as he carefully looked over the items on stage— not, of course, that he expected they wanted him to listen.
There were seven lots on stage, and whenever one was sold, another would be moved into its place from behind it. There was a small plaque near each seat with seven pressure sensitive spellforms engraved on it to allow the audience to vote on the next lot to bid on. It granted an extra level of complexity to the auction— a lot selected early and eagerly by the audience would be liable to attract fierce bidding, so it was best to vote for other lots first. Since everyone in the audience knew that, however, eyes tended to drift even more eagerly towards lots left on the stage for too many rounds.
Speculation about the best strategies for choosing lots was one of the most frequent topics of discussion in Lemannen’s high society. There were countless mathematical papers published each year about how to best encourage your rivals to bid on the wrong lot.
Despite the fact that the auction house could easily have made bidding as private as lot selection, using similar spellform buttons, it was still done the old fashioned way— so that everyone might see. The auction house had done it the silently once, and found that the open auctions raised prices far higher, by the simple means of publicly dragging the pride and competitiveness of the wealthy into play.
There were traditionally six additional lots resting behind each of the seven lots, and each time one was sold, the one directly behind it was moved forwards. Metaphorically, at least- the other forty-two lots were all kept in storage until it was time to levitate them onto the stage via trapdoors. Most of the lots were announced beforehand, but none knew in which order they might show up in the rows, raising the anticipation even higher. Even more mathematical papers were published yearly, discussing strategies for predicting in which row and in what order various lots would show up.
The final seven lots, the back one in each metaphorical row, remained a complete secret until they were revealed onstage. They weren’t always the most valuable or sought after items— those tended to be advertised ahead of time and scattered among the first forty-two lots, in order to attract more bidders. No, the final seven tended to be the strangest and most unusual items— singular weapons made by enchanters with one-of-a-kind affinities, works of art by new, unknown artists, unknown creatures caged as pets from the depths of labyrinths.
Most valuable, perhaps not. Most fascinating, assuredly. A good chunk of the audience showed up purely out of curiosity about the final seven— and often ended up purchasing something anyhow.
There was one looming, obvious fact about the whole event that Calrin found exasperating:
It was all massively unnecessary.
All the extra rules, all the complicated maneuverings— it was, all of it, a scam. So long as the audience was focused on the game, on the showmanship of the auction, they stayed longer and spent more money. They were less likely to show up and bid on merely a single lot, or send servants to bid for them.
The wealthy of Lemannen, and the visitors from out of town? They didn’t care. They didn’t want to think about the pointlessness of it all. If they were trying to save money, they’d be fine with a regular auction, or even better, a silent auction.
The wealthy don’t attend auctions to get good prices, though. It’s not even about the lots they’re bidding on.
It’s almost entirely about showing off.
About flaunting their wealth, one-upping each other.
And given the sheer wealth on display, security was, of course, absurd.
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“Sending you on a weeks-long trip to Lemannen just to attend an auction for a few days sounds like a poor use of your time, if I’m honest,” Zera said.
Calrin shrugged. “Keayda sent us via the air, so it didn’t take us nearly so long to get here.”
The two of them had left Zera’s cramped office behind for the breezes of a nearby garden bridge, Lemannen’s equivalent of a park. It stretched between six different towers, curving along their outer walls.
“Is there no way to convince Keayda to let you stay longer?” Zera asked. “There are so many documents and maps the department would love to have you inspect— and, of course, we’d be glad to assign our scribes to copying anything Keayda lacks for you.”
“Probably not, I’ve got just as many back in Keayda’s Library to inspect— my work there is never-ending,” Calrin said.
Zera leaned against the nearby railing and frowned. Calrin followed suit, without the frown, and looked out over Lemannen.
He was idly examining a nearby tower that was more of a steep round ziggurat when Zera spoke again.
“What if the University were to compensate Keayda for your time?” she asked.
Calrin gave her a curious look.
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Calrin’s twin Hendris was waiting for them when they returned to the inn.
Hendris the Coin Mage. Hendris the pride of their family. Hendris who could do no wrong in the eyes of everyone. Hendris, who meant well, but never could understand Calrin.
The auction had gone surprisingly well. Four of the texts they’d been seeking had come up for auction, and they’d won three of them, staying well under budget. The fourth, a memoir of one of the Last Emperor of Ithos’ allies, had raised the bidding to truly spectacular levels. The winner, however, had been Lemannen’s university. It had shockingly deep pockets for a university, since it was largely funded by the dragon Arneson, who was quite absurdly wealthy, even for a dragon. The university would eventually make copies available to the public, which was a win in Calrin’s book. Keayda was one of the oldest beings on the continent, and a wait of a few years was hardly worth his attention.
Ironically, Arneson was also the owner of the auction house, so the money the university was spending might very well end up returning to them eventually.
The most exciting lots of the night had numbered among the hidden seven, unsurprisingly. Three of the seven lots were all identical— mirrors that could record any scene they saw, absent sound, and play it back later. Their creator had recorded masquerades and balls, great storms and forest glades, and had even hired a dragon to fly them through the mountains and over the sea. One of them had even been taken underwater to record strange scenes below the sea, and commanded a far greater price than either of the others. Each was sold along with an enchanted music box containing two dozen songs to help set moods for the scenes in the mirrors.
The prices for all three reached astronomical levels in the auction, especially the one with the underwater scenes.
As fascinated as Calrin was by the various lots that came up, and as amusing as he’d actually found the lot voting process to be in practice, the night was still soured by how little the others had listened to him, even on the lots they were bidding on— despite the fact that they were in his area of expertise.
His twin waiting for them at the inn somehow fit perfectly with the rest of the mission so far. The fact that it had been Keayda’s plan from the beginning, and that Keayda had leaked the information ahead of time that Hendris was busy elsewhere… neither were much of a shock to Calrin.
Not that Calrin had exactly tried hard— or at all— to pose as Hendris. He’d gone openly as himself to the university, after all.
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The plan to rob the auction house was both audacious and brilliant, and despite for Calrin’s disdain for Hendris’ team, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Hendris shared it with them inside of one of Irilin’s kettles, set up inside their suite of rooms— the bubbles of air made for surprisingly effective scrying barriers.
There were far larger cities than Lemannen- it was less than a third the size of Tsarnassus City or Ras Andis. There were very few wealthier cities, however. More money moved through Lemannen’s auction house than nearly any other on the continent, so it was, unsurprisingly, an absolute marvel of security. The auction house was divided up into two segments. The larger one, consisting of the top three floors of the auction-house, was the auction hall, kitchens and reception areas, the immense auction hall itself making up the bulk of that. The smaller lower segment contained the storage for the auction goods, battlemage guards, the offices, and countless security wards.
The walls of the auction house were even more heavily defended. There were so many wards and enchantments that if the city were destroyed in a battle between great powers, the auction house would still be there, perfectly intact. Even if its tower were destroyed, it would just hover there in the air, completely intact.
It was a prodigious use of mana, but to Calrin’s knowledge, there were only one or two locales with denser aether on the continent, most notably Skyhold. Lemannen had a major labyrinth beneath it, and several more in close range. There were also some specific oddities to the local aether that Calrin didn’t bother pretending to understand.
The auction house was nearly at the top of the spire, but it was impossible to enter from above or below. Above was the private residence of the auction house’s owner, the dragon Arneson, who funded the university as well, largely from auction proceeds. Below the auction house was a mishmash of residential floors, markets, and the like.
There were only two entrances to the auction-house, each with their own dedicated bridge. One was for servants and cargo, the other for guests. Both were heavily guarded and warded, with enchanted doors that locked down entirely outside of auctions.
Trying to break in unauthorized was nigh-suicidal.
So they weren’t going to break in.
They were going to enter openly, as guests, and pull of the heist mid auction.
There was only one door into the lower secured section, and it was at the end of what might be one of the most heavily guarded and warded corridors in existence. Attempting to break in that way would be absolutely suicidal. On top of that, there was no feasible way they could break through the lower levels anywhere else— it was widely believed that the lower vault was actually a pocket dimension only accessible through the proper entrance.
There was, in fact, only one vulnerability they could think of:
The trap-door lifts that raised lots up to the auction stage, which only opened during an auction.
They were going to rob the auction-house in front of the collected wealthy of Lemannen.
When Calrin finally spoke up, asking how, Hendris just shook his head, and handed Calrin a sheet of paper. “That’s need to know, brother— you won’t be there, so we can’t risk you knowing. We do have a plan for you, though. I’ve laid out a schedule for you tomorrow that will make sure you’re still in the public eye. That way I can move about covertly, and make sure I have an alibi as I prepare for the heist.”
Calrin glanced at the list of activities, then raised an eyebrow at his brother.
“No,” he said.
Hendris just stared at him, astonished, while a couple of the others started yelling at him.
Calrin ignored everyone but Hendris.
After a moment, his twin waved down his teammates, and leaned forward. “I don’t understand, Calrin. It’s not a particular risk, and if you want, I can send one of the others with you.”
Calrin snorted. “That’s the last thing I’d want. Your teammates are rude, foul-tempered, miserable people, who have been nothing but disdainful of me the whole time I’ve been among them.”
All four of the others protested, even Hendris.
Calrin waited patiently for the others to quiet down, and just stared at his brother. His eyebrow had started cramping from raising it by the time they all settled down.
“That’s a little harsh, Calrin,” Hendris said. “I’m sure—”
“None of them have used my name once since they’ve met me. The only thing they’ve called me is counterfeit,” Calrin said. “More interestingly, they didn’t even know you had a brother. Why is that, I wonder?”
Hendris winced at that. He might not be the most observant or thoughtful brother— or even a particularly good one, most of the time— but he seldom meant to cause Calrin difficulty or hurt. Of course, even without the intention, he managed it all the time.
“Probably because he was ashamed of you,” Mendis said. “I certainly would be.”
Calrin ignored them, but Hendris shot the water mage a glare that Calrin knew meant trouble later. Sala and Irilin at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.
“Look, Calrin, I’m sorry, but—” Hendris began.
“Your apologies are a long-devalued currency, brother,” Calrin said, then stood. “I won’t follow your schedule because I already have plans tomorrow. You’ll have your alibi.”
He turned and strode off to his room, ignoring his brother calling for him, and ignoring the hurt tone of Hendris’ voice.
People often assumed that just because Calrin was a shy, awkward scholar, that he’d also be a pushover terrified of causing offense. That he didn’t have a temper, or any sort of vindictive streak. That he was just a doormat.
It was a usually a good assumption.
Calrin never did stand up for himself, save for matters of obscure academic interest, and then usually only in submitted academic papers and long letters he had plenty of time to plan.
He was genuinely shocked that he’d just managed to stand up to his brother and his team— he’d fully expected to just fold over, like he always did.
This time, though, he just couldn’t. Couldn’t be a nobody, couldn’t be a counterfeit anymore. Maybe it was how badly the team had treated him. Maybe it was how well he’d been treated by Zera and the other professors at Lemannen’s university in comparison. Maybe it was being seen as so useless that he couldn’t even participate in the plan in any way more meaningful than as an alibi. Maybe it was the fact that he was apparently so unimportant to his brother that he hadn’t even told them about Calrin.
Most likely it was all of them.
As he closed his room door behind him, Calrin smiled bitterly to himself.
He hadn’t told his brother the news either.
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“You’re sure you’re alright with this?” Zera asked. “You’re sure Keayda will be alright with this?”
Calrin shrugged. “It’s my choice, not Keayda’s.”
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Hendris was distracted by his doubts.
Not badly enough to interfere with his work or the plan— there was nothing that could distract him that much. But it lingered in the back of his head that evening after Calrin stormed off into his room. It stuck in his craw as he and his team hammered out their plan.
At the end of the evening, it was weighing heavily enough on him that he refused Irilin’s invitation to join her in her room.
He lay on the couch in the suite’s common room for what felt like hours, staring at his brother’s door.
He’d surely told his team about Calrin before. Hendris was not a man to forget things. Nor would he ever do something like that deliberately— he loved his brother, after all. And he was proud enough of Calrin— for someone mind-blind, who couldn’t ever be a mage, he’d done quite well for himself, hadn’t let himself be defined by being a cripple.
And Hendris had always known his twin had resented him for his achievements as a mage, but he’d never held that against Calrin. It was perfectly understandable, and Calrin clearly did his best not to take it out on Hendris.
And it probably grated on Calrin that it wasn’t safe to share the plan with him, but as a non-mage, he had no realistic way to defend himself or his secrets.
Hendris resolved to share the whole plan and its tricks with Calrin after all was said and done. Calrin deserved that much, at least. And he’d force his team to apologize to his brother.
The doubt still wasn’t gone as he drifted off to sleep, though.
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The doubt wasn’t gone when he woke up, either.
It actually grew larger when he found that Calrin had left the suite and the inn before Hendris had even awoken.
The doubt sat in his gut like a brick all morning as he prepared for the heist. It kept him from enjoying his lunch— he barely managed to eat half of it.
It grew a little more manageable in the afternoon, but then, engaging in a dead-silent covert mage battle against the mage-enforcers of a local crime lord on the underside of a crowded market bridge tends to focus the mind.
Of course, mid-battle was rather a terrible time to decide for sure that he’d been a terrible brother lately.
By the time Hendris and the team got back to the suite at the inn to prepare for the auction, the doubt was back full-force.
It was leavened by a considerable degree of surprise when he discovered Calrin drinking wine and playing some game or other with an unfamiliar woman in the common room.
His teammates tensed for action, but Hendris waved them down.
“Calrin,” Hendris said.
“Brother,” Calrin replied politely.
They stared awkwardly at one another for a moment, then Hendris turned his attention to the woman. She was pretty enough, in a mousy sort of way. She seemed more interested in the game lying between her and Calrin than in Hendris.
“I’m Hendris,” he said, putting on his most charming smile.
“Zera Ustenna, of the Mica Tower,” the woman replied, smiling politely. “Professor of Ithonian History at the university. We’ve corresponded for quite a few years now. Calrin has mentioned you often, of course.”
Hendris winced inside, though he managed to keep it off his face.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the auction, Hendris?” Calrin asked. “You don’t want to be late, do you?”
Hendris didn’t quite keep the wince off his face this time.
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“You’re distracted,” Irilin said.
Hendris started to protest, then sighed. He didn’t respond, just looked out over the edge of the rickety wooden bridge they were crossing.
“Look, we’ll apologize to your brother after this is all said and done,” she said. “We really did treat him terribly. It wasn’t personal, though— we were angry at Keayda. We genuinely thought that he was screwing us over, risking us on a mission without proper combat backup. We shouldn’t have taken it out on him.”
Mendis made a noise in the back of their throat, and Irilin rolled her eyes.
“Also, Mendis is just a jerk in general,” she said. “They’re still apologizing.”
Mendis started to protest, but Sala jabbed her with an elbow.
“I appreciate it,” Hendris said.
They walked in silence for a couple more bridges before he finally spoke again.
“Did I really never tell you about Calrin?” he asked.
Irilin shrugged. “You mentioned you had a brother, but I don’t recall you ever telling us his name or that he worked for Keayda too.”
Hendris groaned. “Looks like you’re not the only ones who’ll be apologizing to him, then.”
Irilin patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
“Why would you mention him?” Mendis asked. “He’s not a mage, and he doesn’t actually seem useful for anything. What’s the point of…”
Sala jabbed out with an elbow again, and Mendis fell silent.
Hendris knew better than to take it personally, that was just how Mendis was. Still…
“He’s not useless,” Hendris said. “He really is a brilliant scholar, and he’s better with ancient texts than anyone I’ve ever known. He’s just usually so quiet and reserved, it’s easy to overlook him.”
“That professor didn’t seem to overlook him,” Sala said, smirking at Hendris. “He might not be a mage, but he’s also not awful on the eyes. Think she wants him to handle her like one of his ancient texts?”
Hendris chuckled despite himself. “Here’s hoping. I hope the rest of his time in Lemannen goes better than it has. It would at least make him more open to my apology.”
That got an awkward laugh from the others, even Mendis.
“Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time. Irilin, throw up a kettle?” Hendris asked.
A moment later, he felt his ears pop as the bubble of air formed around them.
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They were only two bridges away from the auction house when Hendris stopped dead in his tracks.
“What is it?” Sala asked.
“I’m a complete and utter idiot,” he said. “We need to go back to the inn. Now. Irilin, can you fly us back without getting noticed by the guards?”
“Easily, but why…”
“Just trust me.”
The flight back, darting between the towers almost at ground level, took only moments. Hendris didn’t say a word to the others as they landed on the inn bridge, just strode right into their rooms.
Calrin and Zera were laughing about something, but cut off as Hendris strode back into the room.
He didn’t spare a glance at either of them, though, just stared at the game lying between them.
The completely unfamiliar board game, covered with strange markings he couldn’t read.
The exact board game they were trying to steal.
“How…?” Hendris managed to ask.
Calrin smiled broadly at him. “I asked nicely.”
“What’s going on?” Mendis demanded.
“My brother has, apparently, managed to acquire the object Keayda wanted,” Hendris said.
“What? How?” the water mage demanded.
“He asked nicely,” Zera said.
“Seriously, how?” Hendris asked.
“We already told you,” Calrin said.
“You asked who?” Irilin asked.
“Me,” Zera said, raising her wineglass cheerfully.
“Why would you have access to the auction house vaults?” Mendis demanded.
“I don’t!” Zera said with a smile.
“What are you going on about?” Mendis demanded, growing even angrier.
“Arneson,” Sala said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“The dragon Arneson owns the auction house, but he also funds the university,” Sala said.
“And?” Mendis said.
“It’s customary,” Calrin said, “when poaching a particularly capable servant from one of the great powers, to offer them a gift in recompense.”
“What?” Hendris asked.
“We offered him a job!” Zera said. “We’ve got entire supply rooms filled with texts we could use Calrin’s expertise on! He’s worth far more than a curiosity like this, in my opinion.”
“And I accepted,” Calrin said. “Since Keayda sent us to quietly open negotiations with Arneson about this game, I figured I’d just go about it a little more directly.”
“And were you ever planning to tell us?” Irilin asked, a little testily.
Hendris understood her feelings there— Calrin had already acquired their target, and had been willing to let them go on a dangerous heist for nothing? Hendris understood that he was mad, but that was a bit much. At least he’d told them they were trying to negotiate for it instead of trying to steal it.
“I did try, in fact. Multiple times, the first day. Remember? Waited until you all woke up from the flight, you all ignored me,” Calrin said. “So I thought I’d have a bit of fun. I had a letter waiting for you in our box in the auction house, but I’m guessing you didn’t make it all the way there.”
Even Mendis looked a bit awkward at that.
“Since you got back sooner than we were expecting, I think we’ll be going, now,” Calrin said. “There’s some sort of function at the university I’ve been invited to, and we were thinking we’d have to be late for it for the sake of the prank. We should be able to arrive on time now, though!”
Hendris and his team stood there awkwardly as Calrin and Zera walked between them through the door. Just before stepping out, Calrin turned to Hendris one more time. “You should probably get back to the auction, there’s more lots to bid on for Keayda tonight. And we should grab lunch tomorrow, if you’re not too busy.”
“I should be free,” Hendris said awkwardly, not really sure what to say.
“Excellent!” Calrin said, and was gone.
The four of them spent several minutes just silently staring at the board game afterwords.
“I honestly have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about this,” Hendris finally said.
“I mean, we definitely kind of deserved it,” Irilin said.
Hendris strode over to Calrin’s abandoned wineglass, and downed what was left in a single gulp.
“So who’s going to tell Keayda we lost one of his best scholars?” Sala asked.
Hendris just groaned at that.
