Chương 134: Chapter 132- The Call

A tall woman wearing heavy plate armor etched with runes in a finely detailed script sat back in her seat on a wide low couch. She sank into the heavy dark leather, the coach surprisingly supportive despite bearing the weight of her armor, and one leg over the other as she waited patiently, her pale white eyes fixed on the empty seat across from her across the low coffee table.

With a toss of her head a curtain of long straight black hair fell over the back of the couch, and as the door on the far side of the room creaked open her gaze shot towards it, her focus sharp as a hawk on the man who entered.

He wore neat slacks over polished boots, a crisp white shirt under a waist coat and a neatly tied cravat, with a fitted jacket of fine material sporting an embroidered patch on the left breast, a stylized golden apothecary's bottle with a single cream colored droplet stitched in gleaming silk over a field of emerald green.

As her eyes met the man's as he crossed the room with a confident stride they crossed a matching brooch pinned neatly over the knot of his cravat, the company sigil but lovingly etched in delicate porcelain. The man stopped at the edge of the couch across from her and dipped into a low but elegant bow before turning, flicking the tails of his coat aside as he slid onto the middle seat, a faint scent of lavender and citrus wafting across the room, clean without being overpowering."

Well met Lady Blackhall, and I do thank you for your patience. I know it has been a few days since you have brought your item to our appraisers but I assure you they were working around the clock on your request." He reached into the breast of his jacket and retrieved a small lacquered wooden box, opening it and setting it on the table between them as he slid the box neatly into the center.

Nestled within was the communication token they had retrieved from the effects of the merchant who had conspired with the slavers, resting on a layer of dark velvet. Mira waved off his concerns with a simple gesture, " All is well Mr Wainwright, and your results?" Mr Wainwright remained poised and still, but the subtle flicker of his gaze down towards the token and back up to meet her gaze practically screamed of nerves to her well honed instincts. He pursed his lips slightly before speaking."

As I stated prior, the artifact is almost certainly authentic and with a relic of unknown provenance, especially one born by a notable figure such as yourself, we would have immediately sent a missive to Whitehaven even without your direction to do so. Given his predilections I would imagine a response from Mr Weatherby himself by the end of the week at the earliest, but certainly before the end of the next."

Mira's lips quivered slightly, " Bob does treasure his antiques, but I was referring to the efforts of your branch, not whether you had received a response from your master." Mr. Wainwright's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the casual use of the founder's given name before his practiced composure reasserted itself." I would hesitate to speak on the matter without absolute certainty, although given the urgency of your request I see no issue with sharing our results, as unsatisfactory as they are at the moment."

He gestured towards the token between them, " As you have surmised it is indeed a communication token of unknown provenance, and while we have seen references to similar sigils in very, very old texts we have yet to encounter a definitive mention of the specific mark."" Our appraisers suspect given the surrounding weaves that it likely is intended to have a targeting effect, which they found fairly confusing since from what they can gather the sigil is most similar to the keystone rune for a barrier or seal.

Furthermore, the supportive weaves seem to focus on piercing and penetration, although the density makes the structures not only hard to parse but are nearly masterpieces in their own right." He paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate whether he should continue, at least until a slight arch of her brow shook him loose from his indecision, speaking in a hesitant manner that seemed ill-fitting from the confident and polished merchant." Now we suspect… or rather we estimate…"

Mr Wainwright gave a short sigh as he met Mira's gaze firmly, his confidence returning, " Lady Blackhall. It is firm policy at Weatherby and Company to refrain from speculation, but to eschew the facts as we know them, a significant portion of our reputation trades on unambiguous appraisals, as you well know.""

Our appraisers are not certain in this case, but they suspect that the token is meant to communicate through a barrier or seal, likely one designed with halting communications in mind, and an extremely powerful one at that. The spellform inside seems to be designed for one-directional communication over a phenomenal distance, and while there does appear to be a shunt to allow for a return message, it seems to come at the cost of the dissolution of the entire structure.""

This is likely an absurdly expensive and over engineered espionage device, that frankly I can scarcely imagine a use for without knowing what manner of barrier the user was intending to pierce." His gaze focused sharply on Mira, " You would not happen to know the target for the enchantment would you?" Mira shook her head slightly and sighed softly as she reached to close the box and tuck it into a small bag slung from her hip. Mr Wainwright nodded, rising to match her as she stood." I see…

Normally we would offer secure storage for such an artifact, but…" Stolen story; please report. He gave her a smile, " I can hardly imagine a location more secure than in your possession Lady Blackhall." He thrust his hand forward across the table, " A pleasure to serve my Lady." Mira smiled back, this time with a genuine warmth as she shook his hand, " Thank you for your service Mr Wainwright. I appreciate your candor, Weatherby and Company delivers as always."

His smile grew warmer at her words, " We aim to please, may I see you out?"

Mira sighed deeply as she exited the building through the large double doors that seemingly never closed, the large broad sign above the door proudly proclaiming in bold letters 'Weatherby and Company' across the front of the building with a line beneath proclaiming 'Merchants, Factors, and Appraisers Serving the Empire Since Before Oath 1327'.

The large building, as well as the warehouses and stableyards that serviced it occupied one entire side of the largest market square in Theron's Watch, atop the city's second highest hill just below the massive stone edifice the small city had sprung up around. She glanced around the bustling square, neat rows of market stalls arranged in an orderly grid as wagons, carriages, and solo riders of all types and sizes rode back and forth along the thoroughfares that surrounded them.

She cast her gaze across the cityscape spreading beneath her, her eyes drawn unwittingly towards the towering peaks of the Dragon's Spine mountains in the distance before tracing southward to where they met the wide swath of green on the southern horizon of the Verdant Reach, a small smile growing on her face.

Somewhere in that direction her Lady was off doing Seralune knows what, probably rescuing some poor farmer from a monster or two or delving a fracture if she had to guess, despite my explicit instructions to stay put no doubt, but probably clumsily flirting with the outlander if she was being honest with herself.

Glancing over her shoulder upwards towards the heavy fortress of stone above she wondered if Theron also had similar thoughts in his day, the massive edifice one of the few remaining that existed at the same time as her family's spire. Was guarding the frontier your only concern, or did you have a few wayward charges too? As her face was turned skyward, a single drop of water fell and struck her face, falling out of a clear blue sky.

Mira sucked in a sharp breath as a familiar scent, one she had not smelled in centuries, filled her nostrils. Tears prickled in the corner of her eyes as the briny scent of the deep ocean and warm incense surrounded her, an impossible scent separated by both countless leagues and innumerable years from any reasonable source. In an instant she was no longer Miralda Blackhall the Frostwarden, but as memories flashed unbidden through her mind she was once again just Mira.

A young girl resting on a pillow placed on cool stone before a glass altar filled with an endless current of swirling salt water contained within as the briny scent mixed with the incense in the air. The warm tones of her mother's laughter filled her ears, as another softer voice filled her mind. Mira jolted back to the present with a gasp, a single tear tracing a path down her face, a treasured memory she had missed terribly resurfacing in her mind.

For one impossible heartbeat she simply stood there, afraid that if she breathed too deeply the scent would vanish like a dream. With a shaky breath she inhaled deeply, savoring the scent with a soft smile, and her head snapped to the side as she could detect a faint trail as the very same scent drifted in a nearly straight line to the horizon. She froze as a long forgotten voice filled her mind once more and uttered a single word. Go. Mira gasped, the breath she had been holding leaving her in a rush. Master…

She crouched, her legs coiling beneath her. A pressure wave rippled outwards, washing across the square, as Mira slipped the leash restraining the howling blizzard within, and with a crack she launched into the sky shattered flagstones clattering to the ground behind her as a layer of frost rimed the ground where she had stood.

The wind roared in her ears as Mira rocketed into the sky above, the icy folds of her power wrapping her in a comforting cocoon, the familiar chill reminding her of the soft and delicate snow drifts that had once filled her home. The city of the Theron's Watch fell away beneath her, the warbling bungle of a horn filling the air, sounding an alarm at the sudden violence of her departure. She did not spare them a single thought.

She paused for a moment a thousand feet off the ground, the rolling plains housing the farms surrounding the city drifting below her. Hovering in the air Mira breathed deep, as she found the scent, she turned, resuming her flight to the southeast. Memories of the past resurfaced unbidden, the scent bringing to fore thoughts of a different time, one softer and warmer than the present, where her life had been filled with a warmth and light that had been missing ever since.

Days spent running through the snow with other small figures, the sounds of laughter filling the air even if their faces were blank, missing from her mind. She remembered the warmth of a summer sun, fields bloomed with long stalks of purple flowers, towering in the eyes of a child, the scent of which was as lost and unfamiliar as the one she was following. Long nights nestled in soft warm robes while voices murmured in the air, the indistinct forms sharing the meal around a white stone table.

Mira's eyes were unfocused as she followed the trail, barely noticing the stretch of forest beneath her. A loud sharp cry sounded from the canopy and a pair of large forms covered in sleek reddish brown feathers darted skyward, a brace of massive hawks wings spread a dozen feet wide as they raced towards her. Within seconds they crossed the outer edge of the waves of power rolling outwards from her and recoiled in terror. They were too late.

Mira's eyes narrowed as her brow furrowed at the interruption to her recollection and with a sharp gesture their heads fell from their necks as their bodies plummeted, crashing through the canopy below. Mira grit her teeth as turned forward again, never halting her flight for a moment. The memory of days spent before the altar filled her mind once more. She could remember the sound of her mother's laugh and the warmth of her embrace. She could feel the cool stone beneath her knees.

But her heart lurched in her chest as she realized something. While she knew the figure was her mother, and knew that she was speaking to her, no matter how she twisted and turned the image, or how desperately she searched her mind… Mira could no longer recall her face.