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The Stones; [Short Story DNR]
Topic Started: Fri Oct 11, 2013 12:04 am (303 Views)
Taiaka
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The Amber Isles, a long time ago...


The Mating Ball Apothecary & Curio Pawn was on the corner of LeBeouf and Cherry Street, deep in the heart of coal country. The miners brought a steady supply of bruises and broken bones to the old naga's door and he had made a small fortune in the tonic cure for Blacklung. The shelves were lined with all manner of 'junk', some would say. Ceramic and colored glass knick knacks stood like silent sentinels amongst copper ewers and heirloom candle clocks. Jars, neatly labeled in three different languages, were displayed on hip-high tables in rows defined by the color of the substance inside. People remembered colors more so than the name, Silokova Petrov had learned. Oily paper, tweezers made of rabbit bones, and a set of masterfully doctored scales sat near the counter and its ancient, massive, cash register.

It was made by an artisan from Balefire and was very expensive. It was also enchanted. The many push-buttons on the front made of dull tin, when depressed, did nothing but open a shallow drawer at the bottom. Yet, when a coin was tossed into the till, the enchantment would trigger and the coin would fall through a false floor and magically teleport to a copper box in the back room of the shop. While originally intended to foil thieves, Silo just liked to have his money close to where he slept. He did not trust his apprentice.

He closed up shop at sun-up just as Cherry Street came alive. Oxen rumbled down the cobblestone street drawing three-wheeled carts with thick iron wheels. They would haul the coal from the mine and take it, load by heavy load, down to the river where the barges waited. It made it impossible for Silo to sleep soundly unless he plugged his ears with balls of cotton. But as he closed and locked the slatted shutters and filled the Mating Ball with blue shadows, he couldn't help but yawn.

Slithering through the beaded curtain, Silo entered his apartments. He had bought the building for an insulting pittance and sequentially acquired two more buildings upon discovering the price. One, was a small home next door that he sublet to a family of academic mages that were studying the inherent arcane properties of coal. The other building was a warehouse located above the river docks. This is where Silo stored the stock to his store, amongst other, less legal, things. Papa Snake, a red naga hatched in the lower wastelands, was a renowned black marketeer.

He dealt mostly with banned poisons- substances too potent or too unstable to be allowed in the open market, in the hands of anyone other than a professional. He also sold exotic animals. While the former practice brought in infinitely more money, the latter allowed Silo to meet some of the most interesting clientele. The average person did not inquire about purchasing a razor cat cub or how they could get their hands on a Silver Xam fox kit. The eccentric, the rich elite and noble blue bloods did. And the old naga loved the scent of gold.

The accusation of being 'miserly' was common; his apprentice repeatedly called him a 'cheap old viper' in the face of getting denied multiple loans. Silo knew any money he lent the boy would go straight to the Stones. But Silo felt at least partially responsible for Taiaka's addiction- after all, it was Papa Snake that sent him to Yaslo to catch swamp horses. How was he supposed to know that swamp horse poachers were tortured for 6 days and then flogged until bloody? Taiaka had been careless. He should not have gotten caught in the first place. Yet, he had to give it to the kid, he never talked. The boy was not a rat and Silo could sleep well, curled around his box of gold, knowing his investments were safe. But his apprentice's wounds had been terribly infected when he showed up at his door, empty handed, and so the old snake gave him his first taste of the Stones. They took the pain away and let him rest as he healed. But they were addictive, their enchantment causing euphoria and a pleasant numbing sensation, and ultimately very easy to get as any street shaman worth their salt would have a few in their pockets at all times.

The addiction had escalated to such a point where the boy would need five or six Stones a day just to cope. But Taiaka hid his need well. Still, Silo saw the shame in his eyes though every time he came to the Mating Ball looking to pawn a necklace with a broken clasp or a stringless harp. Silo would fence the goods, despite knowing they were stolen, no questions asked and give Taiaka what he needed to get through the day. But he did not know how much longer he could continue to fund his apprentice's slow decent; rock bottom would come quickly to the boy, Silo knew, if he didn't do something other than enable.

He also knew That Taiaka looked up to him. Silo had known the boy's biological father. The man had fished the naga out of the ocean, half-drowned and nearly dead, and Silo had spent a winter in the Moonsea learning about Stargazers. When he had recovered from his injuries and returned home, he promised to keep in touch- and they did, for many years. Silo learned of Taiaka's birth from the mouth of a spectral bluebird and sent back his congratulations in the form of a care package stuffed with smoked meats and a cream made especially for diaper rash. So, it shouldn't have surprised him when a half-grown Lask'ban filled with piss and vinegar showed up on his doorstep like a lost puppy a few decades later.

That had been sixteen years ago. Although Silo always called him 'boy', his there was no doubt he had grown into a man. An angry one at that. Silo was shocked when he learned that his parents had committed suicide from the kid’s own mouth. He had always planned to visit the fisher of snakes again, one last hurrah. He would miss his friend deeply, such a shame.

Taiaka was a consolation prize, the spitting image of his father with the wild streak and defiance of an orphan. Silo and he had walked the wastes together, premier scavengers, fearless and well paid. He taught Taiaka how to listen to rumor and pick his ruins carefully. He showed Taiaka which expeditions were doomed to fail and how to muscle out competition through deception and intimidation. Now he was using those techniques to hustle dockhands out of their hard earned wages one con at a time.

Silo sighed, wishing he could get his mind off of Taiaka and went to his kitchen for a slice of almond cake. It was the last piece but it was huge. He put it on a clean white plate daintily and pulled a silver fork from a drawer before slithering into his parlor and lighting the fireplace. There was a short wait and Silo occupied himself with a glass of dry sherry during it, the slice of cake going untouched. Soon, he heard the telltale scratchings at the side door and hurried over to open it. He squinted in the harsh morning light as Taiaka staggered inside; Silo left the door unlocked behind him.

"Morning." the boy said in his typical lazy drawl and sat down on the green and white striped sofa near the raging fireplace. Silo grunted a response and slithered over, coiling around his favorite ottoman and sipped his drink. Without asking, Taiaka snatched the plate of cake off the end table and began eating it. Silo gave a small smile. The Lask'ba was skinny, ribs sticking out, cheekbones so sharp you could cut diamonds. His eyes were sunken, one colored a deep deep brown while the other remained blue- an unavoidable side effect of the Stones. Silo waited for him to finish the slice of cake and set the plate aside before speaking.

"When they come, I don't want you to run." The naga's voice was rough and deep, his tone severe. Taiaka looked up from the dancing flames in the hearth, muddled thoughts slow to coalesce into understanding.

"Who be coming?"

The naga rubbed at a spot just above his left eyebrow, looking down into his half-empty glass of sherry.

"Who be coming?" Taiaka's question was urgent now but Silo could not do anything but shake his head and choke out a quiet apology.

The guardsmen were not tardy, and as the clock tower bells in the town square knelled for the six o'clock hour, they entered through the unlocked side door. They had kind faces and sympathetic words for Taiaka, but the young man would hear none of it. He stood from the couch and glared daggers at Silo. The naga lifted his chin, unwilling and unable to back down from his position. He watched as his apprentice tried to shift his skin and dart away as a mouse or cricket and felt a pang of guilt. But he knew that he had sprinkled enough Tabbah root onto the almond cake that Taiaka would be locked in his true form for at least a week.

"You'd betray me to dah guard?!" Taiaka was trembling with rage and sweating.

"I'm trying to help you, boy!" Silo shot back pleadingly. Instead of replying, Taiaka chewed at the side of his bottom lip and balled his hands into tight fists. The two guards had no trouble escorting the Lask'Ban to the garrison after this. He did not resist their efforts to bind his wrists and ankles in shackles and string him up in an ugly cell ten feet underground. They called it a 'spellhold' and he would await trial there for multiple and varied crimes.





Epilogue

The withdrawal lasted 4 days. During that time the guards watched Taiaka suffer violent hallucinations and howl at the walls. On the fifth day he was sentenced to hang for his crimes. Two weeks later the Mating Ball Apothecary & Curio Pawn burned to the ground, taking the building next to it with it in the blaze. That same night, the night before Taiaka was set to be hanged, a warehouse down by the docks also burned, and two figures, one trailing a long red tail, were seen boarding a barge for western Istan.
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