Ruby Fox and the Blackwater Idol: Prologue

Written by PIPER BACON

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Footsteps were muffled by a summer night’s downpour. A hooded figure, branded with the Crowning, traveled alone tonight. She didn’t bother to wait for her cohort as he lazed in a drunken slumber. She knew what she needed, here and now, before someone else beat her to the chase.

She pushed open the doors to a tavern. Voices surrounded her as she stepped in. The room was hot and humid. The air was stale and stained by the stench of alcohol. The door creaked shut behind her, and she began to catch the patrons’ attention.

Her presence silenced the drunken thieves. While few had the chance to see her in full, they all knew her name, a name that carried the weight of a thousand glories. They knew exactly what she had done; it was likely that she knew their stories, too.

She shifted. Water dripped from her garb. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone but the man sitting, surrounded by gamblers, in the corner. Her fist tightened around a sack of gold she carried, and she made her way to the corner.

As she moved, the chatter arose once again. The volume was not as loud as it had been before she entered.

Patrons cleared the way for her as she sat down at the man’s table. He wasn’t as drunk as the others, but smelled heavily of pipe ash and certain herbs that would get him arrested.

He flashed a black-toothed grin when she approached him. “What dragged you here this peculiar evening?” the man asked.

She dropped the sack of gold on the table. “Elijah,” she greeted. She did not bow; he was beneath her.

“Fox,” he said. His head dipped, a sign of respect.

“You know everyone,” The Fox stated plainly.

“I have my records,” Elijah said.

Elijah Davey, from the Greenfoot Faction of the Gray Eyes, was in the business of knowing everybody’s business. He spent his time traveling from tavern to tavern, city to city, and has since become an encyclopedia of the happenings in Pasairia. Tonight, he was home in the city of Torrance.

“I need someone who can translate Anandrean. A person who knows their way around the culture and history,” The Fox said.

Elijah snorted. “What for?”

She sneered. Her fist clenched. “You can’t know.”

“That just seems a tad bit selfish in my opinion, don’t you think?”

“Do you know someone or not?” The Fox demanded. “I don’t have to waste my time here if I can just find a person on my own. Consider yourself lucky that it’s easier for me to just come to you.”

Elijah shook his head. He broke eye contact, his gaze darting to the sack of gold on the table, then quickly back to The Fox; his first mistake.

The Fox noticed this and shook her head. “Pathetic,” she muttered, and took the sack back in her grasp.

“Wait,” Elijah said, falling distraught, “you can’t possibly be upset about my desires. We’re all in the same business here.”

The Fox pointed a sharp finger his way. “Your business here is never to help yourself. When you’re dealing with me, it is your priority that you meet my needs.” She scoffed. “I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you, you’ve worked with me before.”

“Fine,” he spat. “What do you want?”

“I want names.”

“Of someone who speaks Anandrean?”

She let out a short sigh. “Yes. Preferably in Pasairia.”

Elijah leaned back in his seat, looking up at the lantern that hung above them. “I’m going to assume that there’s something specific you need,” he said.

The Fox didn’t respond.

“If you’re looking for someone who knows Anandrean, I would assume you’ve taken an interest in the latest shipment from Anandrea‒ that being the only shipment from Anandrea in over a year. You realize it’s just books, correct?”

She didn’t vocalize her thoughts, but a look gave it away.

He nodded. “Of course you do. There are three people I know of who speak Anandrean. Two even study Souran, which could potentially give you some benefit.”

“Tell me who they are.”

“One of them is a woman up in a town outside of Webb, but some say she’s crazy. She claims to be the bastard child of an Anandrean official, though she looks like the definition of a Pasairian. She’s wickedly fluent, however, in the language. She could help for a price if you get past the witchcraft.

“The second in s a scholar in Pinnaloch who the Crowning have actually been trying to get their hands on for months now. They say he’s tight with Borea. If you reconnect with the Crowning I’m sure they’d help you out, but they say he’s hiding something they just can’t get their hands on just yet.”

The thought of aid from the Crowning irritated The Fox; if she were to do this, she would do this alone, not with the help of others who had previously failed at what it was she was bound to do.

“Honestly, the Crowning is your best bet if you need a translator, especially since he’s one of the two who’re studying Souran,” Elijah said.

“No,” The Fox responded in an instant. “They’re useless to me in this moment. None of them could possibly accomplish what it is I’m trying to pull off here. They’ve tried, and they’ve failed.” The pair was silent, but only for a moment as Elijah thought of her words. “Besides, what’s some scholar born with a silver spoon in his mouth going to do to help me? I’d just end up having to get rid of him somehow.”

Elijah shrugged off her refute. “There’s one last person, but he’s rather a hermit in an odd sense of the term.”

“Tell me about him,” she said, not wishing to have to meet the witch. “He’s the second one studying Souran?”

“That he is,” Elijah said, “He’s a historian whose latest publishings have all been about the Provinces. He knows his way around elven culture and history, and so of course he knows the language pretty decently. He should be easy to find, too, since he’s got very few ties and rarely leaves his city.”

“What city? How far will I have to go?”

“It’s quite a distance from here, he lives in Falacar,” he said, but as the name of the city slipped his tongue, he recoiled. “I’d be cautious going to Falacar, however.”

“Why’s that?”

Elijah lowered his voice, his eyes darting around the tavern before he leaned in close. “The Blackbloods,” he whispered.

The Fox bit the inside of her cheek, frustrated. A group of cultists that had began to fester in Pasairia, they were known for pillaging small towns. No one would have thought that they’d pillage an entire city, however there were whispers of where they’d strike first.

“Why Falacar?” she whispered. “Why, of all places, that dust bowl?”

Elijah shrugged. He thought of his words for a moment. “I’ve no clue,” he said. “There’s something they want there. Something to do with a much larger scheme.”

“How much time do I have before they come?” she asked.

Elijah looked at the hooded figure before him, brow furrowed. “No one’s got a clue. Could be tomorrow, could be a year from now.” The Fox looked away from him, and he began to wonder. “Is this for sure the guy that you want?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Why him? Fox, just go to the Crowning, don’t risk the Blackbloods. They’re ruthless.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of handling,” she seethed.

“Look, Fox,” Elijah said. She looked back in his eyes, and his gaze bore harshly into hers. “If you’re really staunchly against going back to the Crowning, I can help you out with this guy. If it makes you feel any better, him being a historian may mean that the two of you have a common interest in what you may find in those books. I would use that as a means of getting him to come straight to you.”

The Fox nodded, interested in his idea. “Give me his name,” she said. “I can do the rest from there.”

Elijah stood, and The Fox followed suit. They left their booth, trotting up a set of stairs and into a secluded room in the tavern. The Fox made sure she kept her gold on her.

He took out a bit of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell from a desk. He scribbled down a name, folding the paper and trading it off to The Fox. He watched, attempting to conceal his lust for coin as she reached into the sack of gold. His heart dropped when she only pulled three coins from the bag, dropping them on the desk before him.

Business concluded, she turned on her heel, leaving as quickly as she came.

Elijah saw her go, following her at a slower pace down the stairs. He sat back in his booth, pulling out his deck of cards as patrons slowly trickled back to his corner, destined to lose their wealth.

“What a sight to see. The Great Fox, here in the flesh,” a patron commented with a chuckle.

Elijah sneered. He began to shuffle the deck. “If I never have to work with her again, it’ll be too soon.”

She had come to see him many times, and each time he had received less and less pay from her, though she always carried more. Despite her reputation, he had always known her to be like this, and thus was a reason why he was never starstruck to see her. She was another thief, just like all the rest; she was just better at not getting caught.

Mindlessly dealing cards he thought of her need for a translator. Awfully inconvenient for her that the man she wanted just happened to be a potential target‒ a little bit he hadn’t quite mentioned. If Falacar were to be purged it would be on his head, all due to his knowledge.

Unfortunate.

It was a pity she refused to go to the Crowning to see the scholar. Her own faction, and she wouldn’t even trust them.

Her words had stuck in his head, they felt out of character. While she was notoriously brash, she always knew what would be best for her and how to take advantage of it.

They’re useless to me in this moment. None of them could possibly accomplish what it is I’m trying to pull off here, she had said.

They’ve tried, and they’ve failed.

He swallowed.

Slowly, like a puzzle falling perfectly into place, Elijah began to figure it out.

He realized he knew what it was the Crowning was trying to get from Borea’s scholar. He realized he knew exactly what had never been obtained before, and who exactly would be set for life if she just happened to find it.

She wouldn’t take help from the Crowning, but she would certainly find help from someone who needed her just as much as she needed them.

Someone who’s head was on the line.

Elijah cursed under his breath.

He gathered his cards without muttering a single apology. He threw his belongings in a bag, making a quick departure from the tavern. Once he left, he began to jog. He broke into a sprint.

The Fox had not cared enough to conceal her footprints in the mud in this particular occasion, for she had not quite expected anyone to come after her this night. So for Elijah, it was easy to trail her to a darker part of the city, and to a small, busted shack not too far out from the tavern.

He pushed the door open, not bothering to knock.

The Fox turned around, just hanging up her coat. Her eyes widened in shock, then anger. Upon seeing her without a coat, Elijah became suddenly distracted by her brand of the Crowning; though she was the most renowned thief in Pasairia, she was still tied to her faction.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, glowering.

“Fox, there’s something you need to know. About the Blackbloods,” he said.

“What is it? What could possibly be so important that you felt the need to trail me in the rain?”

“First off, I know what you want. You’re looking for the idol.”

The Fox’s glare grew harsher. Fiercer. “You don’t know anything.”

“Fox, the Blackbloods are looking for it, too. The Crowning is on the cusp of uncovering extremely important information pertaining to its location. Pinnaloch is too big to hit, so the Blackbloods will be searching for any lead they can get that’ll find them the idol.”

“So what does that have to do with this?”

“If you let anyone know about what is happening, it could put your life in danger.”

“As if my life hasn’t been in danger before.”

“Fox, no‒ Listen to me. They’ll kill you. And they won’t be nice about it. Once they get the information they want, they’ll destroy it so no one else can have it. They’ll burn cities to the ground to find you if they know The Fox is going after what they want.”

This silenced The Fox.

She thought about this for a second. She thought of the repercussions to come.

She sighed. “Absolutely no one can find out then. I’ll just go underground for a couple of months. No big deal.”

Elijah sighed. “Whatever you say. For the record, another thing I wanted to tell you was that the man you’ll be looking for, William Hare‒ they know about him. They for sure know that he knows about Province history and about the idol. For now he’s safe, but if they figure out he’s tied to you, you’re both dead, and there goes Falacar.”

“But do they know about the books? That’s the most important thing.”

“I’m assuming they don’t. But if they find out and they’re smart, they’ll go to the Gaerist library. That’s where they’ve been shipped out to. So go there, and you’ll find the books. If your plan works with meeting in a common area, he’ll hopefully go to Gaerist, too. Just keep tabs on him and see what he’ll do.”

“Of course,” The Fox said. Elijah put a hand on The Fox’s shoulder, his palm covering the Crowning insignia. She looked up at him with curious eyes. “Why did you come back?”

He dropped his hand, and gave a small shrug. He knew exactly why, but he didn’t say it. “It’s good for business,” he said.

The Fox smiled at this. She reached for her sack of gold, picking out a handful more of coins, and placed it carefully in Elijah’s hand. They held each others’ gaze for a second, and Elijah felt an odd sense of peace come over him, something he never thought he’d feel in her presence. Then, she did something further unexpected; she bowed to him, and as she rose, she looked him in the eye. Hers held a warmth he had never previously seen. “Thank you. The Greenfoot Faction is very lucky to have someone as resourceful as you,” she said.

He smiled, suddenly bashful. He took her hand with a firm grasp. “Good luck, sister. History is smiling upon you today,” he said.

The Fox squeezed his hand, patting him on the shoulder. “Thank you, brother. You did me a good service today.” She let go, and looked up as a droplet fell from the roof and onto her shoulder. She looked back to him. “You’d best be on your way,” she said. “There’s much I need to do to get me and Darwin ready for this journey.”

Elijah nodded. “Of course, of course,” he said. “I’ll see you then. Have a good evening. Avoid the rain, if it’s possible.”

“You too, Elijah,” she said.

Without another glance, he turned and left. He felt a twinge of guilt. He was bashful, embarrassed of his own hypocrisy.

When all is said and done about The Fox, he knew the real reason he went back wasn’t just to keep up good business relations; he knew her downfall would be a great weight upon everyone, therefore he would do his best to provide her with what was necessary.

He knew legends are never meant to die.