The sky was clouded and threatening on the morning Oren and Ahken walked the streets.
The outing was severely discouraged from the Librarian's end, but Oren reassured him that their organization was sufficiently secretive that no enemy would be able to tell who she was. A glare from the Librarian towards him informed Ahken that it wasn't the Upper District he was worried about, but the other man let it go.
Oren had told him she wanted to speak to him privately. This time, it didn't come in a letter; he'd been showing up every other day for the past month, sometimes commiserating with the Librarian about the threat to their base. The Librarian was as leery as always during those times, but that distrust seemed to have collapsed into something that was, if not trust, a kind of resignation that there was nothing he could do about it.
So it was that the Librarian told him, sullenly, that Oren wished to speak with him personally.
"About what?" he'd asked.
The Librarian shrugged. "She didn't say."
Oren didn't seem keen to answer this question either, but just took them through the teleportation ritual with more grace and as much silence as the Librarian did. As they walked the streets, she kept her hands folded in front of her like a Lady of Senntisten should, and Ahken took the hint and kept his mouth shut.
Behind Bilkis' house was a near-empty lot that bore a surprising resemblance to his sister's training yard, except instead of dirt on the ground, there was the smooth concrete that was a hallmark of Zaros' Empire. In the corner, a rack of weapons were stored. They looked surprisingly real, although Ahken supposed they might be stiff rubber, if any of that substance had survived the Wars. Aherran, he reflected wryly, would have taken access to this place over gold any day.
"This is Bilkis'?" he asked. Bilkis didn't seem at all like a violent woman, even in sparring, as the wealthy liked to do.
"Mm," Oren replied. "She's a woman of surprises." Ahken was a bit startled to hear some ruefulness in her voice. "Even I didn't know this until recently, but apparently she was something of a firebrand in her younger days."
The image of Bilkis as a fighter was somewhat hilarious at first, but Ahken supposed that Oren knew her better than he.
"And she won't mind us using it while she's gone?"
"Oh, goodness, no. The woman gives me no peace about how welcome I am to use her house whenever I like."
Ahken had been wanting to ask Oren about what she'd mentioned earlier, about her relationship to Bilkis. This day, Ahken thought she seemed happier, almost content, if he didn't know her better, and he figured that today would be the day to ask prying personal questions.
But something held him back.
Was it politeness? He didn't want to dig somewhere he may not be welcome. He assumed that Oren's goodwill towards him, even in the face of the Librarian, only extended so far.
Perhaps it was fear. Not fear for himself, though. Oren seemed to him to be someone who kept herself to herself for a reason. He wasn't even sure how old she was.
So he kept his mouth shut as Oren finished surveying the arena. She nodded in approval before turning to face him.
"We're going to practice," she said. Then shrugged. "Well, you're going to practice."
"My sickness," Ahken said before he could stop himself. Unwillingly, he felt his face blush. "I can't fight."
Oren looked at him. "I know," she said. "I had an idea while you were gone."
She paced around the room. "You won't be much good in a hand-to-hand battle," she said bluntly. "Or, for that matter, ranged combat. Your cough makes your aim unreliable."
Ahken didn't disagree with anything she was saying, but it stung to have it laid out so flatly.
"So what good am I?" he asked softly.
Oren turned to him with a critical eye. She reached into her pocket, and drew out a plain brown bag, tied with a string. It was filled with multiple somethings; gold, Ahken guessed. As he watched, she unlaced the bag and pored some of its contents into her hand.
"Do you know what these are?" she asked him. She held her hand out for him to see. Five small, rounded stones.
"No," he admitted.
"These," she said, "are runes. Relics of a better time. Not many exist in Senntisten. Saradomin hoards many of them for his human mages, and the demons have little use for them. They were made to confer magic."
"Magic," Ahken repeated. "Like in the stories?"
"Nothing is like in the stories. But in principle, yes."
She proffered them to him, and he took them. He weighed them, but they felt as light as air. "You think I should use magic."
She shrugged. "It's a difficult art to master. You, of all people, should be the test subject."
Ahken was at least four-fifths sure that he was just complimented, and he grinned.
"Where did you find them?" he asked.
Oren smiled crookedly. "Oh, here and there," she said. "The implings are good at keeping them hidden. You just have to be… forceful in your questioning."
Ahken's eyes widened. "You got runes from the implings?"
"They're better at finding things than we are," Oren said, and shrugged again. "Now. I will teach you how to use them."
Ahken eyed the runes and supposed that he would be nervous if he knew anything about them. He knew that human mages made use of them, but few were left in the Empire. Saradomin and Zamorak both wanted them, and with a large population of magical creatures like demons nobody in Senntisten had thought it worth much trouble to hang onto them.
He hefted one with a symbol on its face. A droplet of water; that was recognizable enough.
"It's not an intuitive practice," Oren continued. "It will take effort. However, I think you will find it will begin to come easier and easier the more you do it."
"You've done this before?" Ahken asked, surprised.
"Yes," Oren said, and something in her tone told Ahken that she would speak no more on the matter. "Square your stance, like you're about to fight."
Ahken did so.
"OK. Now, you have to reach into your mind. Don't worry about aiming just yet. Take an air rune, and let the energy travel through you."
Ahken passed the painted stone around in his fingers, and tried to feel the energy within. It wasn't that he couldn't tell it was there. As soon as he put his mind to it, the faint shock of power made itself clear. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do next, though.
"Channel it," Oren added helpfully.
"Right," he said, and tried to channel it.
He wasn't sure what he did, but the next thing he knew, the wind was coursing through him. His limbs felt lighter, and he drew in a great gulping breath, only to feel it expelled by the outward force of the magic as it left his body in a great rush.
Oren was laughing, and he suddenly realized he was now on the floor.
"Don't tell my sister about that," he grumbled, and Oren began to laugh even harder.
"It's supposed to come from your hands," she said finally, covering her mouth again as another burst of laughter began.
Ahken couldn't help but grin as he put his hands out and began to stand. In his palm, instead of runes, were the crumbled remains of stones. He opened his hand and let it fall to the ground. "OK," he said. "Show me how."
…
Hours passed, and the sun was on the horizon when Oren called an end to the session.
It was… much less strenuous than Ahken was accustomed to. Perhaps that was due to the nature of magic, but, he suspected, part of it was because he… didn't actually do anything.
Tens of destroyed runes, for what? He didn't once manage to master even the simplest spell.
"I'm sorry, Oren," he said as she gathered the remaining stones.
She looked surprised. "Don't be sorry," she said. "It takes most mages years to learn magic."
"All of your runes–"
"Not even close," she said wryly. "I'm not the first of us to gather runes, and I won't be the last."
That raised more questions than it answered, but Ahken kept his mouth shut and started to help Oren pack up.
When they left Bilkis' house (who was still away), the deep orange of sunset had become night, and Ahken felt the jolt of worry run through him. Quickly, he scanned the streets.
"The Monitors," he whispered.
Oren snorted. "In the Upper District? They go where Dagroda wills them, and he does not wish them here." There was bitterness in her voice.
Ahken swallowed. The panic had subsided, leaving him with a more pragmatic concern. "How will I get home?" he asked.
Oren blinked, as though she had not considered this. "I suppose you could stay at the base."
Abruptly, Ahken realized that they were alone. The streets were empty, and a bracing wind was beginning to stir as he thought over Oren's proposal.
"If you like," she added.
"That would be alright," he said. He thought, a little guiltily, that Aherran would worry like mad, but he didn't think he had much of a choice. There was no way he was getting back home tonight. She was, he reflected ruefully, probably already worried.
"Will the Librarian mind?" he asked.
She shot him a glance. "If he does, it is not his place to do anything about it," she said firmly.
The thought of the Librarian being frustrated was already beginning to cheer Ahken up. "Alright, then," he said. "Let's go."
…
The base was dark and quiet. Ahken was surprised. He'd never been to the base at night, but he had always supposed that it was a place that never ceased to be active, constantly filled with people kept awake by their sheer loyalty to the cause. It was a bit jarringly… human.
"There should be bunks available," Oren said. "You're not the only one who has to sleep here, though, so I'm afraid you'll have a look for a bit to find an open one."
"Thank you, Oren," Ahken said.
Oren blinked. "I couldn't very well tell you to sleep on the streets," she responded.
"No, I mean." He swallowed. "Not many people have a use for someone who can't fight, and even fewer will help them learn how at a… personal cost. Thank you."
Oren smiled. It was a faint thing to the untrained eye, but it spread to her eyes as easily as wildfire through a forest. "You're welcome," she said. "Go get some sleep. I will do the same."
True to word, the first barrack Ahken found was full. The second, however, had an open space near the back, and so he slipped into the tiny bed like it was the most comfortable place he'd ever slept. (It was, he noticed, a bit more comfortable than his own bed, but utterly lacking in that easy familiarity he loved about his home.)
He slept easily, and thought not of the future.
A bit short and a bit filler-y, I know. But big things are coming, friends, big things! Be prepared! This is just the calm before the storm.