Orphan at the Edge of the World 104 Crawling Chaos 2

The shopkeeper said, "I did but I couldn't tell you what it will be. More of whatever they ate for dinner themselves I would think... Forgive the rudeness but who are you associated with?"

Orison said, "No one. For good or ill, I'm a blank slate here. That doesn't mean I won't be missed, mind you. It's just that the people who will come looking for me if I don't make it back to them might take a few years to catch up but at least one of them is very good at finding what he's looking for."

The man stroked his neat beard and said, "Do those who control this area, know of you?"

Orison shook his head. "I'm not sure on what level you're talking but no. I don't plan on getting involved in anything I don't have to either. I'm perfectly happy being a passing stranger. If the man out there wasn't nearly beaten to death right in front of me, I wouldn't even be here in this shop."

It took until food came for them to stop tiptoeing around what the other knew of the supernatural and those involved in such things. Eventually, Orison found out that those with 'gifts' were incredibly secretive in this world and for the most part, the supernatural community was completely unknown to the general public. While the man let bits and pieces slip trying to figure out who or what Orison was, the young mage figured that the best thing to claim being out of what was made known to him would be an exorcist. Claiming so gave him freer license to roam and be more generally welcomed.

The man wasn't going to let him just claim it without some demonstration of skill, however. To prove his chops, Orison was made to 'exorcise' a minor curse off an item that had likely been stolen from a tomb. There was a fair amount of negatively attuned spirit essence on it, not much different than necromantic energy, and that was what made the people who carried it around sicken and die. It took all of two seconds and a controlled use of devouring intent to make the jade comb perfectly safe. Internally, he frowned over the fist sized nub of black crystal that choked up a small corner of his formation space.

Orison thought, "I can see why fourth steps would call a place like this treasure but I'm just a little shopping bag that the world is trying to stuff to death with every slight opening. With reality failing, everything is pressing in. If I'm not careful, this place is going to pop me like an over fed tick.

"What's worse, it's all empty calories. Without my formation to compress it and the spirit grass to make more of what should be in it, coming here at my step would be pointless. Add in that the boogeyman I ran into was probably just the tip of the iceberg for what dangerous stuff is in this world and I need to leave as soon as possible."

Still new to climbing, Orison wasn't exactly sure how a person went about leaving a place as soon as they could. Neither his starting point nor his last step had been typical experiences compared to what little he knew about the path he had chosen. The thick blanket of oppressive force that was this reality's inward collapse would take Orison becoming stronger or 'more real' at the very least. Beyond that would only be empty guesses.

Having built some good rapport, the man said, "People around here call me old man Wei or Mr. Wei if you prefer. What should I call you, young man?"

Orison was about to answer when a creepy feeling came over him, an intuition that such an exchange was more than it appeared. It didn't have much to do with Mr. Wei but another who was listening nearby. Keeping spirit sight as subtle as he could, Orison looked around until he saw a vague outline behind a wall.

Looking at the outline, the young mage said, "I'd be more than happy to share that, Mr. Wei but within the presence of certain individuals, it has a deeper meaning. For the one that applies to, if any wish to speak to me, mentioning the wild hunt will get my attention."

On a napkin, Orison wrote his name and showed it to the shopkeeper before exercising presto to burn it. "It's fine to say my name. It's just that willingly sharing it-"

Mr. Wei raised a hand, "I may not be more than an outlier but I am aware of some old rules. It was a little more excitement than I typically enjoy, Orison, but if you find yourself in need of more supplies, you know where to find me... Shall I call a cab for you and your detective friend?"

Orison sighed. "Not unless you'd like to do another brisk round of trading. With Mr. Jones having been freshly mugged and my current situation, I may have some valuables but for money, I have a dollar to my name."

With a friendly but opportunistic glint to his eye, Mr. Wei was quick to 'offer his assistance'. A few minutes later, in a cab with a lightly dosed detective, Orison looked at the bag of leftovers with a canister of consolation 'you got fleeced' tea sitting on top. For a moment, he thought about Droya. He missed her and vaguely was aware of how mortified she'd be of how badly he got lead around by the nose.

Even in his half asleep state, Neil was aware enough that sending a teenager out into the night at that late point would be bad. After confirming that Orison didn't have anyone who needed to be contacted for concern over his well being, he offered the young mage his office couch. Within moments of being poured into bed, Neil was out, leaving Orison alone with a head full of restless thoughts.

Pacing around the detective's dirty office, he busied himself with some light cleaning. Upon seeing a percolator clogged with coffee grounds, Orison had a moment of sad realization that he had shelled out good gold for a generous amount of coffee and cocoa beans he'd never see. He felt tired enough to rest but the presence of a person watching him outside had him on edge and unable to.

Walking over to the window, Orison cracked it and said, "I would really like to sleep now but I can't with peeping perverts just chilling on the wall like some kind of spider-man. Either come in and say what you have to say or leave. The last option is, I rig up a lamp into a spotlight and shine it at every surveillance post you try to take until daybreak. If I can't have peace, neither will you."

Moments later, a figure from outside slid the window open further and crawled in. As soon as they had their feet, they strode over to the couch and sat down.

A feminine voice with a thick eastern accent he couldn't place said, "Since you invited me in, are you not going to serve tea or something. Westerners have no sense of propriety."

Blandly, Orison retorted, "Guests who are entitled to such niceties were usually invited from the beginning, not out of duress. That said, wearing a head cover indoors shows a lack of propriety, much less one that covers the entire face. Of course, I won't simply label an entire group of people off of one person's failings. I highly doubt more than a small handful of those who share common nationality to yourself have such perverse hobbies."

The lithe figure, still wearing face wrap, stood up and said, "That is the second time you have called me perverted. Do you dare to say it one more time!?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Orison said, "Shouting in a sleeping man's home that you are a guest in... what a shameful lack of propriety."

With an act of pure willpower, the mystery woman pushed her anger back in and sat down as calm and placid as a windless pond surface. "What is shameful would be your claim to be an exorcist. Not a single feature of your person in demeanor or equipment matches such a boast."

Using the percolator as a kettle, Orison heated some water and did his best to make a couple of decent cups of tea in spite of not having the proper equipment. Setting the mismatched cups down in front of him, the quarrelsome woman took the cup he had set down in front of himself. Chuckling to himself, he took the other.

After a few sips, Orison set down his cup and said, "Those labels are pretty much meaningless to me anyway. Sorcerer, high magician or exorcist, all of them are garbage labels. I was only answering as courteously as I could, questions that asked more than what was strictly polite to begin with."

Adjusting her mouth cover back into place, the mystery woman sat down her cup and said, "No particular action of yours is wrong. That is, if you are not lying."

Orison said, "I don't know enough to lie. Now, withholding information is a completely different matter. Before you ask me any more questions or try to dig into my abilities or anything else I know, if you can't show equal sincerity, don't bother. I'm full up on freebies today, Mr. Wei's niece."

In a motion that was almost too fast to follow, the woman flung two packets of powder at the young mage. One glittered silver and the other, a dull yellow. Reflexively, Orison exercised telekinesis to guard himself from the strike. Seeing that her attack had failed, she dashed towards the window.

Orison calmly said, "I'll expose myself to the silver if you like but I wasn't about to breathe unknown crap. I'm keeping them by the way."

Three quarters out the window, she paused to see that he wasn't trying to follow her at all but was cleaning up and separating the piles she threw like he was afraid he'd lose them.

Talking to himself more than to her, Orison said, "Oh, so this is a strong sedative. A lot stronger than the stuff she slipped in my tea. Not only is she a pervert, she's probably a molester as well. I'll have to be careful around her in the future."

Listening from outside, she nearly lost her grip on the wall.

Sticking her head back in, she said, "You're the pervert and molester. Your whole family are perverts and molesters!"

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by a frugal amount of dull yellow powder being forcefully inserted into her nose after an invisible hand pulled her face mask down. Realizing she'd been duped, the woman tried to release the windowsill only to feel two invisible dog paws hold her hands in place until she lost consciousness.

Orison pulled her in and laid her on the couch as a baritone voice said, "My lord captured her with her own wiles. If she were to be claimed, it would only be rightful dues of the trespasser."

Slightly scandalized, the young mage looked at an empty space in the room and said, "Centuries of abstinence have made you a little too thirsty, Herne."

Deep but soft laughter preceded, "Tis true. My lord should discern the flower's beauty first, least she prove unworthy of the labor."

"You're much better at resisting the influx but some essence is slipping past you. As much as I'd like to leave you and Nibbles out, I'm going to have to wait until my space can handle it," Orison said, more to stop the horrifying suggestions than any real fear.

A slight movement of air and a baritone whisper of 'by your leave' were the only evidence that something else had ever been in the room. Inside, it was slightly comical seeing a dog made of five color earth cramped up against a horse curled precariously around the underside of a mound of dirt too small for it as a barely two foot tall version of Herne patrolled the horse's back.

Orison desperately hoped Herne's claims of being able to help rather than drain the mini plane were true or he'd lose a very valuable asset very quickly. Neither he nor his sub-mind could feel a difference in the weakened plane's essence level. It was as if a delicate balance had been achieved but could be broken at any time. It was nerve wracking.

Orison didn't even bother looking over at the window as he said, "Come on in and get her. The only things she suffered were getting a small dose of her own dull yellow medicine and some mild embarrassment when she realizes her temper got the best of her. All in all, she'll be wiser for the ordeal with no harm done aside from a little bruising to her pride."

A slightly taller and more athletic figure slipped in through the window wearing the same snug but flexibly comfortable looking, ancient style burglar clothes.

Another heavily accented but definitely masculine voice said, "Your generosity of mind is appreciated but I find the lack of any anger interesting. Were you expecting this?"

Orison nodded. "Not in any meaningful way but I figured I'd get a little testing of the waters and surveillance. Besides, due to a short time friend sharing some of his fondest memories, I can see a little of the charm hotheaded brats have. Make no mistake, that is a temporary and fleeting sentiment, however... This might seem like an odd request but I'd like a set or two of the outfits you guys wear."

The man paused for a moment before he chuckled. "I'm afraid these are members only equipment. Our tong might be smaller and a little loose on tradition but certain rules can only be bent so far. We still have to worry about face."

The young mage showed a little disappointment and said, "All they lack is a little more ability to switch from business to casual. They're pretty superior in every other aspect. Not to mention they cut an admirable figure. Assuming you're not caught doing something shady they kind of have a dark hero vibe to them."

The stranger threw a big thumbs up and said, "You have good eyes! Alright, How does this sound? We won't give you any trouble if you want to tour our territory as long as you don't belong to any other society. Lend a helping hand if you see a demon, ghost or the like and be respectful of East Village residents."

Orison nodded. "If I stick around, that's fair. Oh... speaking of helping hands... I don't know what you call them but there was a boogeyman a couple of streets before Mr. Wei's shop in a dead end alley. It's taken care of but I don't know if one being there is a sign that there might be more. And I doubt it has anything to do with it but that's where I met the detective. Smiley's people were working him over there."

The man asked a few questions about what it looked like and what abilities it displayed, then said, "I'll look into it... Our territory is pretty much the lower city with East Village at its heart. People like Smiley might have a turf within our territory but we do not associate with or police them as long as their fingers do not reach for East Village.

"If you find a need to defend yourself against a crime element that exists in our territory, we won't get involved unless it affects East Village or they are employing another society member. In short, we won't help you fight with them but we won't hold you accountable for using your gift against them either. That's the best I can give.

"Other than that, know that north of the river belongs to the Masons. To the west there is a small band of Rose Cross members that we have an alliance with. Further west you'll see farming and ranching communities that reject modern convenience. If you value your life, don't do anything on their land. They are peaceful but what protects them from man and monster alike, is not.

"Out of town to the south is a small community that enjoys it's arts and crafts. Many people from East Village go there to buy and sell things. It's a nice place to look for supplies. You won't ever see the group that guards it from threats unless they take a liking to you. If they take a dislike to you, no one will ever see you...again."

Orison was taken a bit by surprise of the sudden friendly info share but wasn't going to question it too much. "Any other points of interest? Not trying to keep you but a little free information can be a lifesaver."

The man got quite for a moment, then said, "If you don't know, going further north, past the city isn't wise. Going past the bay's sea shelf after nightfall isn't wise. The unawakened and ungifted do it often with a small number of victims but it's different for us. Something watches for us and none may go north or east onto the sea without challenge, usually fatal.

"If you find this place not to your liking, there is a great country full of wonders and threats west and south, all the way to the western coastline and southern gulf, but the entire northeastern part of this country belongs to them. The Masons territory above us is the last one before land that is no longer under the rule of man... As you answer when others speak of the wild hunt, I answer when others speak of the path of rivers and lakes."

Orison smiled. "So you not only dress like a hero but you hold the romantic notions of one in your heart as well. I like Wuxia as long as the main character doesn't have a harem."

The man cocked his head to the side and said, "I'm surprised you know of it. A hero might steal into another's harem but having one of his own? How then could he be free to follow the path of rivers and lakes? Nonsense."

While the man stole out the window, carrying the girl like a sack of flour, Orison thought, "I forgot what time period this is. Self indulgent, have your cake and eat it too stories aren't really a thing for a long time to come. Of course, this isn't really like Earth's past or something. It's just really similar in a lot of ways."

Chapter end