Chapter Text
“Excuse me sir, I believe you dropped this?”
The man stopped, turned, and found himself face to face with an attractive young man holding a familiar belt pouch in one hand. He felt around his own belt, and indeed, one was missing. “Oh, ah, thank you. Didn't realize it was gone,” he said.
The young man smiled a disarming smile. “No trouble, glad I noticed it. Have a good day.”
“You too.” Once alone again, the man opened the pouch to find his coins still present. He shook his head, surprised at his luck.
Neal watched the figure disappear down the street with amusement. What the man failed to realize was that Neal had been the one to liberate the pouch from his person and that the purse had a small addition - a smidge of ritual oil rubbed into its leather bottom. The oil was of Peter's making, and his familiar spirit would be able to track the owner of the purse wherever he went. Hopefully to his smuggler friends.
He turned and went to find Peter, easy enough to do as the anklet exerted a gentle pull in that direction, if Neal focused his attention on it. Neal found him waiting with Jones near the harbor wall. “It's done. Have any other purses you need stolen?”
“No, don't go getting ideas. Now we can put the spirit on his tail, see who he's doing business with, where they meet.”
“A fishing expedition,” Jones said.
“Only instead of one fish with a pole, we're using a wider net.”
Neal felt Peter pull from his power. It didn't hurt, instead he found the sensation pleasurable as Peter gently and slowly drew in a fine ribbon. A few minutes later the spirit appeared. First there was nothing in the street aside from themselves, a few other people, and the gulls wheeling overhead. Then the air shimmered as if with heat and the familiar spirit took shape. It hung suspended in the air at eye level with Peter, its long body gently undulating as though it were treading water.
Neal could see and communicate with spirits whether he stood in a prepared and empowered magic circle or not, but it took using Neal's power for Peter to do the same. It seemed that pulling from Neal allowed him some of Neal's own quirky talents.
“Peter,” the spirit hissed out. It glanced at Neal, and its horse like face broke into what passed for a smile. Neal supposed some people would find the expression unnerving, but he took it in the spirit it was meant, or what he thought it was meant. “You are working with this child's power. Much more efficient, this...”
“If you like, I can make an offering tonight.”
“That will do nicely. I assume you need my assistance?”
“I need you to follow someone, make note of who they work with and where they meet. You'll know him by this.” Peter unstoppered a small vial and held it out to the spirit who swam closer, curious. “It's my own recipe, so there shouldn't be any confusion.”
“I will find the man and his friends.” The spirit circled around them once, wound and unwound itself from around Neal, and swam off down the street.
Peter broke off the connection with Neal, allowing the trickle to slowly wane to nothing. The power sat hot under Neal's skin, but this time it didn't worry him. He could settle it later.
“I have no idea what just happened,” Jones commented. Jones, being magically null and with no assistance from Neal, had not been able to see or hear the spirit.
“Called up a spirit helper to trail our man.”
“That the same spirit who rampaged around the temple?” he asked.
“It didn't rampage around the temple. Just one small area,” Peter replied. “C'mon, Neal.” He clapped Neal on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for a long moment. Neal tamped down the urge to rub himself all over Peter like a cat.
“I know dream dust resurfaces every so often,” Jones began. “But it's been awhile – I was hoping we might be rid of it.”
“Nah, as long as people want an escape and that escape can be bought, there's a market to be filled. Hopefully, we can nip it in the bud fast. It has to be brought in through the harbor...makes it easier to strangle it out.”
“Those kinds of medicinals never made it up north, or not many. There was only what could be grown and brewed or smoked locally. Most of it was pretty harmless,” Neal said. Even in the city, there wasn't much on offer aside from the ubiquitous smoke weed.
“Well, there aren't many ways to bring it in, so drug dens don't last long – they can't keep a steady supply. Every so often some industrious person decides they've found the perfect get rich quick scheme. It never lasts. The crown doesn't appreciate tax free goods coming in, whatever they happen to be.”
“Ah taxes, yes, the chief concern,” Neal said dryly.
“I'm being realistic. The top dogs care about the populace in the broad sense, not what stupid things an individual person might do to themselves. Famine, unrest, natural disasters, disease outbreaks – those are bad. A few people getting hopped up and hurting themselves is so far beneath their notice.”
“Peter's right. The powers that be don't care about the individual. That's our job, us and the Watch. Peter, if you hear anything and need backup, let me know.”
“I will, thanks, Jones.”
They parted ways, and Peter drew Neal aside into the mouth of an alley. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. You didn't take much. I've been thinking... I'm not sure how you feel about this, and I don't bring it up lightly. But, I think we should try jumping the veil. I'm not sure what would happen if I did it, and I'm not sure if I can cross you over.” He held up a hand to forestall Peter's objection. “I know there's risk involved, but it could be handy. You also have your spirit that knows the Borderlands.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, thinking. “Technically I could open up a gate – but it involves a lengthy ritual and a lot of power. There's a shorter version that allows you to see through the veil, but not cross. I've done it a few times.”
“You might not need a ritual, if I can cross you over. You also wouldn't have to worry about getting stuck there, if something happened to the gate on this side.”
“You've always been hesitant about crossing over – aside from your escape attempt.”
“Yeah, well, the situation felt desperate at the time. It's not something I would ever do lightly, but what if it could be mapped – the parts that abut our reality. To know if I crossed over in one place, I could cross back at a chosen point. I know distance doesn't work the same, and if you want to sneak up on someone unseen...” he trailed off, considering the possibilities.
“That would have been useful in your old life.”
Neal nodded. “Yes, it would have been, but on my own without a native I could trust to help, the risk outweighed the reward. Besides, I tried not to use my power unless I had to.” He eyed Peter appreciatively. “I didn't have a handsome guardsman to go to bed with,” he purred, voice low.
Peter gave him a mock stern look. “Trying to win points, Neal.”
“Depends on the prize.”
“We'll discuss that later,” Peter said with a straight face, but humor around his eyes. “I do see your point – it could be worth considering. It's an advantage I can about guarantee no one else is using, but it's only an advantage if it doesn't kill us.”
* * *
Peter and Elizabeth had gone out to run a quick errand and stop by a neighbor who had been doing poorly, leaving Neal to his own devices. Neal had no intention of testing the limits of his tether, but rather waited for the spirit to come wafting through as it did on fairly regular intervals. Neal didn't know why it stopped by, looked around, sometimes watched the human inhabitants for a little while then vanished off on some other business. Peter had to be aware of it, since he could sense its presence without Neal's help.
He knew spirits could be drawn by curiosity and the energy drummed up by human activity, or maybe it just liked Peter's household. Neal considered trying to reach out to it as he had when he had been trapped in the temple, but decided to wait a little while longer. The spirit had always been friendly with him, but it and Neal didn't have a working relationship, and Neal didn't want to impose on it.
A short while later, Neal could feel its presence as a prickle along the nape of his neck, the sense of not being alone in the otherwise empty house. It came into view as it swam through the wall – the wall offering no impediment to the ephemeral being.
“Hey,” Neal said, voice feeling loud in the quiet house. “I have something I want to ask you, if you have time.”
“Time, what is time? It means little to me.” It swam over to hover near Neal, gazing down at him. “What is it you wish to ask, child?”
“The veil – there are obvious dangers to wandering around on the other side, but what if it could be mapped, routes to go from place to place here cutting through the Borderlands.”
“I and my ilk are beings of energy, we need it to take a form, to influence the world around us. When humans dance in joy, sacrifice to their gods, or mate they raise energy that can be siphoned off – no harm done. But that is not all of us. There are some that prefer pain to pleasure and sorrow to joy and would rip your life force from you...you and Peter would be particularly tasty treats to those with such a pallet.” It continued to stare down at Neal through fathomless eyes.
“Could they be avoided?”
“The Borderlands is the seat of our power, and you stand out. I can guide you, but I could never guarantee your safety. Find a way to mask your power, you and Peter both. It is the only way.”
“But it could be possible...”
“Many things are possible. The question is always what you wish to risk. I will return when I have news of interest.” It turned, as graceful as the ornamental fish the wealthy kept in ponds, and swam towards the far wall, vanishing before it reached the other side of the room.
* * *
“How's the big mystery going – with the ship?” Elizabeth asked as they made their way back towards the house.
“Still mysterious. The spice shipment was meant to mask the actual purpose of the vessel. But why not fill the ship? If the purpose was just to sneak some of their men in, why half fill the cargo hold with empty crates. They're just leaving money and risking their cover, if the Harbor Master decided to look closely.”
“That's assuming the crates were empty. Maybe they were carrying something else,” El replied.
“I swear, I don't know what they're doing over there. First this, now someone's smuggling dream dust,” Peter grumbled. “Edward needs to start spending less time at the 'Whale' and more time paying attention to what's coming in.”
“Speaking of ships coming in, John should be back any day now, especially since the weather's been favorable.”
“I should probably be the one to explain Neal,” Peter offered. “Sorry to spring this on him.”
“He's never been unreasonable – you just have to appeal to his sense of right. He wouldn't like the way Neal was being treated. But maybe leave out the part about the stealing – at least until he knows him better.” She reached out and gave Peter a reassuring pat on the arm.
“Neal looks like everyone else, no one around here knows what he is. They'd have no reason to know, and the brothers aren't going to want this getting out and embarrassing them. But once this goes before the Assembly all bets are off.”
“Gossipy nobles,” El smiled. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, and Neal has a powerful weapon...charm. He's easy to like, and whatever people think a hoarorai is like, they aren't picturing Neal.”
“True,” Peter conceded. “It's not that I think we're going to be surrounded by a pitchfork wielding mob, but it has the power to effect the whole household – not just me and Neal.”
“You'll just have to talk to him. John will be in a good mood – he always is when he gets leave.”
They returned home to find Neal engrossed in a drawing. Upon finding out that Neal had such an interest, Peter had kindly bought him parchment. For one thing, Neal was talented – talented enough he could have made a career off it, and for another Neal keeping busy with a completely innocent pastime seemed like a good idea to Peter.
“I spoke to your spirit friend while you were gone,” he said without turning around.
“Oh? Did it have news?”
“No – it just drifts in and out, but I had a question for it regarding what we spoke about earlier.” He set aside his work and turned to face Peter and Elizabeth, the latter had turned to stoke the fire. “About the veil.”
“And what did my spirit friend have to say.” He sank down on the bench, full attention on Neal.
“That I would make an excellent main course for certain denizens of the place, and you would be a pretty good appetizer yourself. We need to find a way to mask our power – it will draw attention we don't want.”
“That would be a solution. I don't suppose it had any suggestions.”
“No, just said it would be back when it had news and swam off.”
“Sounds about right. Huh, this is going to take some thought and research.” Peter could think of a couple of things off the top of his head – iron being one - that would act as a deterrent to hostile entities. But they would likely interfere with the process of crossing back and forth and might react badly once in the Borderlands itself. “I can't imagine someone hasn't at least thought about his before, since there are ways to create gates across realities.”
“How often to people create gates?” Elizabeth asked from her spot by the fire.
“Not very. Most people wouldn't have reason to, and it's not something you do without a reason. Unless they were just off their rocker. Never underestimate crazy.”
“Still, that's a fair point,” Neal said. “Most people would try and mitigate the danger.”
“I know one place to look, but unfortunately I don't have access anymore. The library at Temple Hill is one of the largest in the country. Rumor has it, it beats the Royal Library, but I've never seen the Royal Library to compare. When I was still a journeyman, we were taught the ritual to see through the veil. They told us about the gate ritual, how it works, but encouraged us not to use it. If we couldn't keep the gate stable, we'd be in danger of being trapped on the other side, and as we all know, not all spirits are friendly.”
“Don't you dare go getting eaten,” Elizabeth told her brother, voice firm.
“I wasn't planning on it.”
Neal, meanwhile, had a calculating gleam in his eye.
* * *
John's feet touched dry land and he could have shouted for joy, or if not joy, then certainly relief. Relief to be free of the confines of the vessel for a little while, relief to not have to worry about the weather, piracy, or worry the crew might accidentally start an incident with the locals. Simental certainly hadn't gotten any friendlier over the past year.
But aside from some very valid concerns John carried with him whenever he watched the land of his birth shrink in the distance, his profession came with certain advantages. Mostly due to Corinth being a port city, a large port city with shipping as its lifeblood. There was always work to be found on the docks and ships going to and fro. He had started as a dockhand, then eventually set sail, and had come to the point in his life where his years of experience guaranteed him a place and decent pay. More than that, he could secure a position with the larger trading companies who could afford to hire a mage to help maneuver around reefs and rocky coastlines and blunt the worst of bad weather. They couldn't erase all risk, but John liked his odds better with a magician watching their backs.
He caught sight of a familiar figure waving to him, and he broke into a run, a little unsteady after spending so much time on the rolling deck of a ship. Laughing, he caught Elizabeth around the waist and spun her around. “You knew when the ship was coming in?”
“I might have paid a messenger to keep watch and let me know,” she smiled up at him, eyes sparkling. He threaded her arm through his and they ambled back towards home.
“I can't begin to tell you what a relief it is to be back,” he said. “We got stuck hanging around the outer islands waiting for a storm to pass. I swear it just sat over top of us for the hell of it.”
“We'll you're home now,” she said patting his hand.
“And more than ready for it.” He looked forward to spending time with wife, to catching up with Peter who he saw as a brother and not just an in-law, to sleeping in a real bed. They came to the house, and a young man John didn't recognize slipped out the door.
“Oh, Neal,” Elizabeth called out. The man turned and favored them with a sunny smile.
“Just ran back to pick up some of Peter's ritual paraphernalia.” He held up a leather sack.
“Neal, this is my husband, John. John, this is Neal – he's a friend of Peter's. He's been staying with us.”
Neal gave him an odd little bow, not a flourishy affectation, but a gesture more in keeping with a higher station than he probably held. He stood a bit above average in height, possessed a strong lean build, and an attractive face. He also wore the familiar uniform of a lower ranking guardsman. “I've heard a lot about you,” he said pleasantly.
“Good, I hope,” John answered in kind, studying him. It didn't bother him that an unmarried, unrelated man was staying in the same home as his wife. In fact, the thought never occurred to him, since he completely trusted Elizabeth's fidelity and Peter's good sense. As far as John knew, they didn't need to take a lodger, Peter being well equipped to take care of the household and John chipping in as was right. That meant either Neal was new to the city and didn't have a place to stay yet, or Peter finally found himself some companionship.
“Of course. I need to get this back to Peter, I'll see you later.” He headed off down the street with a jaunty walk.
John watched him go. “So, Peter found himself a friend.”
El gave a little laugh. “I'll let Peter tell you about him. I know he wants to talk to you.”
“I'm just assuming, since we don't need the extra income. Good for him, if he did. About time.”
* * *
Peter himself was not so sanguine. There was no way the entire Neal situation didn't sound at least a little bit bonkers with a potential for fallout. What form that fallout might take, Peter couldn't say for certain, but he doubted they were in for a smooth trouble free ride either. He took John out that evening to a tavern where they could talk without El and Neal being present.
“OK, There's something I need to talk to you about. It's going to seem odd and unexpected, but I need you to hear me out, try and keep an open mind,” Peter began.
John gave him a steady, but slightly amused look. “Peter, if this is about you finding a special...friend, it's fine. I don't care.”
Peter just blinked, not expecting that response. “Thank you? Am I that obvious?”
“Only to those who know you well,” John laughed, in good spirits. He took a sip of ale. “If that's all you're worried about...”
“Well no, actually. It has to do with something else. But I appreciate your support anyway.”
John set his mug down and sat forward. “OK, now you're worrying me a little. What's going on?”
“A lot. A lot has gone on, and I need to catch you up – Elizabeth is fine,” he added, guessing where his brother-in-law's mind had gone to. He paused for a moment, looking for the right words. “What do you know about hoarorai?”
John sat back, a puzzled expression forming. “Not much...a lot of stories, half of which probably aren't true. I know the priests keep them, harness their magic somehow. Why do you ask?”
Peter sighed. “A little while back Simon asked for help tracking someone down. I didn't think anything of it, and he's a friend, so why not. I was able to do so, but it turns out the man I caught was a hoarorai.”
“Really? Are you sure? How do you know? I mean, you're a mage, so I guess you would, but still...that seems improbable.”
“Unexpected, that's for sure. He had run away from a temple up north. And if you have the gift, it's pretty obvious if you go to read one. So I delivered him to the temple – Temple Hill,” Peter left out Neal's reality hopping escape attempt and prior life of crime. “Spoke to him a bit – the kid didn't want to go back, and I don't blame him.” There's no getting around it. “He made me an offer...to work with me, lend me his power as opposed to going back north.”
John's expression had turned from puzzlement to disbelief. “Per Simon's suggestion, I got backing from the Lord who oversees the Guard and Watch – he thought he could be an asset to the city.”
“Are you saying you're going through with this?”
“I'm saying I already did, only it's up in the air, because the Brotherhood of Senta is going to drag us before the Assembly and try and get the crown to rule in their favor.”
John leaned his head back and groaned. “How?” He rubbed his face with his hands. “How does this even work?”
Peter held up his hand with the ring, finding himself on firmer ground. John had a strong sense of justice. “See this ring? The brotherhood made it. I can feel him through it, and he can't be farther than five miles from it. The wearer has the power to inflict pain in order to control the hoarorai. Only I don't like tormenting people. The brotherhood treats hoarorai more like very intelligent animals – they don't hesitate to exert control by force. There's a reason he ran. I'm on thin ice with the brotherhood, and I'm finding that I don't care very much that I am.”
John sat silently for a long moment. “Damn.”
“Yeah, damn.”
He sat for a moment, hand covering his mouth before his dark eyes widened. “The man I met earlier, young fellow – El said he was your friend...uh...Neal? It's Neal isn't it.”
“Yeah. I told her I'd be the best person to talk to you about it.”
John was silent for a few long moments, being the sort who tended to think things through before speaking. “I...I don't know what to say or think about this,” he finally admitted. “I need to think about it.” He took a long pull from his mug. “Is this going to affect your position?”
“No, as I said, I had backing to do this. Written permission from Lord Adley, even. I'll just be barred from Senta's temples.” Peter shrugged. “I don't consider it that big of a loss. What it does mean is that Neal is part of the household, since he's tethered to the ring.” Technically he just had to live within a five mile radius of Peter, but Peter was leery of leaving him that much to his own devices considering his very recent past, and it made it easier to make sure they stayed within range of each other. That and the temple would undoubtedly raise a strenuous objection if they found out.
John gave him a look that said he saw right through Peter. “Uh-huh. And is that the only reason?”
“There are several reasons.” Peter didn't further elaborate. “None of the people around us know what he is – I can't promise it won't get out, and I can't promise you and El won't be persona non grata to the priesthood and their backers too.”
John snorted at that. “Senta's temples are for the upper classes. Do I look like an aristocrat to you?”
“No, but...I want you to be aware. I can't lie to you and tell you everything is going to be fine, because I don't know what's going to happen.”
“That's because this whole thing nuttier than a tree full of squirrels.” He sat back again, looking a little more relaxed. “I need to sleep on it.”
“How was Simental?” Peter asked, partly curious because he cared about John, and partly curious because their nearest neighbor was kicking up trouble.
John groaned. “Worse than usual. It's not that they're a problem exactly, but there's not much to do there – at least if you're a foreigner, and you have to be careful...their beliefs and laws are not ours, and leniency isn't so much their thing. This time they had us restricted to a small area of the trade quarter near the docks. There was a couple of times I swear a guard was following me. He wasn't even being that discreet about it. The people on the docks were all courteous, but...” his voice trailed off.
Peter pitched his voice lower so that John had to sit forward to hear him. “Don't spread this around, but Simental maybe trying to cause trouble again.”
“Oh, well, I guess that would make sense then. Should I be worried?”
Peter shrugged. “I don't know, to be honest, because I'm still trying to figure out what, if anything, they're up to. Simon tipped me off.”
“Simon's getting you in all kinds of trouble.”
“Yeah, well. I was just curious what the lay of the land was on their side of the fence.”
“Let's put it this way, I'd rather be here with hoarorai and angry priests than there.”