§126 Sinter (Patreon)

Curator Meltissa Jane — Sinter

"Welcome to the Little Horn. Uh, you two look like you've come a long way."

"Someone," Meltissa glared at Cadmius, "wanted to take a shortcut. Please tell me you have rooms, a stable, and a bath."

"Yes, Mam." The elf receptionist glanced between them. "Two rooms?"

"Definitely. Thank the gods we found someplace civilized. I didn't expect such a nice town this far south."

"We are a bit remote, but the town has been doing well the last few years." She took a pair of keys from somewhere under the counter and exchanged them for Meltissa's money, enough for two nights' stay with bath, fodder, and board. "The water should be hot, so you can go straight back if you want to. I'll have someone take care of your mounts."

After days of traveling cross-country, the bath was divine. Meltissa sighed in relief as dirt came off her in waves of mud. She had to scrub herself down three times before she could get into the tub of hot water, but it was worth the effort. Hot water and soap were a miracle.

She kept her carry-all case near her while she bathed, and knew Cadmius did the same with his saddlebag. Most travelers would do the same, not knowing the town they were in and unsure of the security of their goods. The Little Horn didn't keep a registry, which was slightly odd, and the receptionist hadn't asked any questions, which was even more odd. Meltissa suspected it was mainly out of consideration of their obvious need for a bath. The questions would come later, during dinner. If there were other guests, then there would be a lot of mingling and polite prying later.

When she finished her bath and dressed in her final set of clean clothes, carefully preserved against the rigors of their travel, she found Cadmius waiting for her in the front room. He sat in the half-full room, where he could see the entrance to the women's bath, and put his back to a wall. He had an untouched drink in his hand and listened intently to a pair of men.

"We came for the jobs," said a rough-looking dwarf who sported several scars on his arms and a nose that had been broken and poorly set. "Guys like us have a hard time finding work. It's tough starting over, you know? But I heard there's good work here. A buddy of mine wrote to say they were looking for laborers, so here I am."

"Same deal here," said the arc next to him. "I landed myself in prison for hitting an officer, and got thrown from the IEF in the bargain. Like prison wasn't enough, you know? Do one or the other, yer majesty. Both is overkill for just hitting some guy. With no family and a black mark like that, where you gonna go? We're supposed to talk to someone tomorrow about it. Job placement, they called it."

"Have you heard from your friend lately?" Cadmius asked the dwarf.

"Not for a couple of months. But that's nothing unusual. I was surprised to hear from him just the once. What brings you through here? You don't look like the desperate sort."

"I've got my paycheck." Cadmius stood as Meltissa approached. "Not looking for a better one. But good luck to you gents. I hope it works out for you."

"Paycheck wants to drop her bag," she quipped, and tossed her valise at him, forcing him to catch. "Then I'd like to see the town. What there is of it."

"Yes, Mam." Cadmius grinned that maddening, happy-to-be-in-the-same-room-with-you smile. The two strangers elbowed each other, no doubt speculating on the full nature of their relationship. On their way to the stairs, Cadmius deftly ordered more beer for his new acquaintances and passed a coin to the bearkin server.

"They must have told you quite the story."

"It's tradition to buy drinks for a soldier down on his luck."

They dropped their luggage into the same room, and Meltissa warded it with a circle that looked more dangerous than it was. If someone knew what they were doing, she wouldn't be able to keep them out with her basic skills. But a thief who didn't know better would be put off by the obvious warning.

They took a turn around the town, starting with the central square and working outward. She counted. Adults, children, elderly, carriages, potholes, recently paved streets, dilapidated homes, schools, temples, clinics, and much else. She knew before she was half through that the numbers wouldn't add up. Near the end of her rough survey, they saw a caravan of horse-drawn wagons arrive loaded with rough timber.

"I'm an idiot," she said out loud.

"What?" Camius looked at the same sight, but didn't see what she did.

"All that rough lumber heading west. I never asked for specific destinations. From the looks of it, it's all coming right here."

Cadmius scowled. "Those tunnels must need a lot of bracing."

"It's a growing mine, too. It's why they received more empty cars than they sent out."

"How bad is it?"

"I'll tell you when I'm done."

They ended at the Little Horn and retired to the same room. Meltissa pulled the last several years of tax summaries for Sinter from her case. Cadmius said something about getting food and disappeared, then came back some time later. She hardly noticed until he plopped a plate of food on top of her charts.

"Eat." He didn't say anything else, but let her eat in silence while she pondered the facts in front of her. He was good that way and didn't try to pull her from her working thoughts for useless conversation.

After another hour of work and the lighting of a bright lamp run by magic, she put her finger on the one odd fact. There usually was one, in cases like this, some demonstrably odd thing from which all the hidden truths could be discerned.

"Sinter doesn't have any poor people." A town always had poor people in it, or living near enough to do the hard, dirty work that the locals didn't want to do. But there were no other towns within twenty miles. The upgrade in streets and housing in the last few years was only possible through extensive magic or a lot of new labor. The town's current state was like the poor farmer with a fancy cart. One had to question where the money came from.

Cadmius didn't look impressed. "The poor end up in the mine as slaves, like those unfortunates we killed yesterday."

"That's my theory." She eyed him suspiciously. "Were you peeking at my notes?"

"The inn has several hard-luck joes in it. If people here are writing their friends saying there's work, and the town makes an effort to take them in, where are they? There should be barracks, bars that cater to them, and a couple of brothels. But there's not even a peep show here."

"Exactly what kind of men do you hang out with, Cadmius? I didn't think a paladin would know what a peep show is."

"I know what men are like when they're in a large group, without enough women around. Do you even know what a peep show is?

"Of course I know."

"Have you ever been to a peep show?"

"I have not," she sniffed.

"A burlesque?"

"Never."

"Would you like to? I could take you sometime, if you want. Some places are almost tasteful."

"It's the almost that bothers me most in that sentence. Let's focus on Sinter."

"My point is, the town seems to be actively recruiting single men to work here. From the records you're looking at, I'll take a guess and say they've been doing it for a while. But there's no sign of them. I think the locals work in the mine for good pay, but anyone who won't be missed ends up as a meat puppet. Strangers. The poor. And so on."

"I'm inclined to agree. Worse, the people here know, but they don't want to know. As long as they don't see the evil happening, as long as it's all kept out of sight, they can tell each other that life is good. I have to finish this report and send it. In the morning, I'm going to talk to the legate."

Cadmius's hand made a fist, as if it were looking for his sword but found empty air. He was agitated.

"What is it?"

"I think we should leave as soon as you send your report. Now, if you say we're going to see the legate in the morning, then I'll stand next to you. But I'm doing it in full armor."

"You think we should leave." When it came to matters of violence, actual and potential, she trusted him. 

"That depends. How sure are you that something terrible is happening in Sinter?"

"There's no doubt. But I'd like to question the legate. I want to know how much of it comes directly from him."

"Or, you can question him after the IEF takes over the town. Unless you think he might not be involved?"

Cadmius had a point. The legate was either running the mine, or he was captive to whoever was. Either way, she could not trust the local wardens, administrators, or townsfolk whose comfortable lives depended on the mine's continued operation. Everyone in town was vested in keeping the ore flowing, even if it meant sacrificing a few poor or uncooperative people to the mana beasts that ran the show.

"We'll leave tonight, after my report."

Cadmius visibly relaxed. It was one thing to walk into town and look around. It was another thing to reveal herself to the legate and make herself a target. Cadmius made a rough map marking the town's exits, the road to the mine, and other tactically useful information. They had seen enough, and it was time to leave. Her back protested: she had been looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed.

While she worked, he pulled metal armor from his inventory: a steel cuirass, cap helmet, and steel-splinted greaves and vambraces. Engraved spellscript phrases added protection and other effects. While he rubbed a manastone over the spells, charging them, she tried to focus on her work. She made a rough job of it, but the important message got across: Not only was Sinter the closest town to the mine, but they clearly benefited from it, and were recruiting people to work there. The precise degree of official involvement could be determined later. 

Loud singing broke her concentration. Some drunk fellows were bellowing bawdy lyrics in the hallway outside her door. They sounded like Cadmius's new friends, having slightly too much fun. For some foolish reason, they stopped at her door and sang even louder.

Cadmius cracked open the door. One voice sang a loud verse about Mistress Toggenberg, the goat herdess and her youthful, gravity-defying teats. It was left to the listener to decide if the teats in question belonged to her goats, or to Toggenberg herself. There was also a second voice, lower and more deliberate. Cadmius spoke back and forth to it and then shut the door.

"We're leaving right now."

She didn't ask why. He knew his business just as well as she knew hers. Meltissa sent what she had transcribed into the tablet so far, followed by the message, "departing in haste." She threw everything into her valise or her inventory while Cadmius did the same. The last thing he packed away was the light, plunging them into darkness. He stood to one side of the window and looked out cautiously.

"Our new friends were touring the scarce drinking establishments in this town, and happened to visit the one frequented by wardens. The legate showed up in a huff and organized a search for two visitors, who arrived today, mounted on tall horses. He got his men together and went to Town Hall to open the praxis locker, so that'll slow them down. But expect them to show up armed."

"And we're still standing here because…?"

He nodded at the street. Their horses were waiting for them, already saddled. The two hard-luck cases held them by the bridles. "Best dori I spent in a while. You still have that fancy bracelet?"

Meltissa pulled a curl of silver from her inventory, where she kept all her emergency supplies, and slapped it around her wrist. "Fall like a feather," she whispered at it, and felt the telltale tingle of active magic in her skin. She didn't wait for him, but jumped out the window.

The name of the spell was misleading. She didn't touch down gently or float side to side like a feather would. Instead, she accelerated as normal but only up to a set limit. When she landed, it was exactly like she had jumped down from a wall five feet tall.

Cadmius landed next to her exactly like a rock dropped from a third-story window, but the fall didn't bother him. As a third-tier fighter, he was nearly impervious to such a short drop. The only way he'd get hurt is if he landed on his head.

"You'd best scramble out of here, Miss Paycheck," said the arc. "Legate's looking for you, and I don't think he's going to invite you to dinner."

"You should get out of town, too, gentlemen. This is not a good town."

"Yeah," rumbled the dwarf. "We kinda got a strange feeling from the place. While they're all busy looking for you, we'll sneak out in a different direction."

"Head toward Pritchard until you meet the army," said Cadmius. "If they give you any trouble, tell them Cadmius sent you."

"No, use my name," Meltissa interrupted him. "Show them this, and tell them Curator Jane, provincial inspector, vouches for you. They'll let you pass or send you to me." She pressed an enameled circle bearing the inspector's mark into the arc's hand.

Meltissa and Cadmius mounted up, wished the two hard-luck cases the best, and made for the nearest road out of town. As it wasn't a walled settlement, there wasn't a gate to get through. All they had to do was ride faster than the wardens looking for them.