A Siphon's Stars

A Deal

         Arrel was a city made by farmers, for farmers, with only farming in mind. Not that there was anything wrong with farmers, or farming in general. In fact a group of them made pretty good builders actually. Very practical about the lay out of things. A good solid lot, Darrick mused to himself as he studied the city before him.
         The issue Darrick took with the city was its lack of defenses. No wall, broad roads that were well cared for. Lines of market stalls lined it and the town square. It looked like a very friendly place to live which would attract all kinds of friendly, helpful people. It would also attract all manner of evil things looking for an easy meal.
         Darrick gathered his cloak about himself and continued down the packed road. He kept his head bent but his eyes forward. His patched hood hung low over his head and to anyone watching he looked like nothing more then a weary traveler. Exactly how he liked it.
         He pulled a cigar free of a pouch on his side. Getting low, he thought, as he lifted the cigar to his face, cupped a hand around it and lit it. Darrick drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He watched the smoke roll away from him in the wind.
    The city itself looked more or less like Darrick had expected it to. Stalls lined the main street, mostly folk selling produce and vegetables. A few sold trinkets and small decorations. He spotted a pair of tailors and a blacksmith’s boy as he walked. He smiled to himself as he edged his way through the crowd, careful not to disturb anyone.
    The town hall was a three story building crafted without a seam or blemish in its stone face. Darrick pulled the cigar from his mouth as he studied it. Where Arrel had gotten the money to drag a Sculptor all the way out here was beyond Darrick but that wasn’t really important. He rubbed the cigar out on his left forearm and tucked what was left of it away.
    The doors were made of heavy mahogany, polished to a shine, with brass knockers. Darrick leaned his weight into one and it slid open on oiled hinges. The main floor served as a church for the city and Darrick inclined his head to the priest as he passed. He turned and climbed the stairs to the town hall.
    Darrick stopped outside the door marked Chancellor Arrel; Duke’s Second. He swept his hood back and sent up a silent prayer that the rumors he’d heard were true. Otherwise he would be out three days of travel. He pounded on the heavy frame and waited.
    “Come in.”
    Darrick pushed the door open and strode inside. The office was far more utilitarian then he had expected. Wooden chairs lined one wall, facing a desk backed against the wall opposite the door. A man sat behind the desk and above him hung a portrait of Duke Arrel in his youth.
    The man suppressed a grimace as he studied Darrick, “What brings you in today?”
    “Work,” Darrick replied, “I’d heard rumors, thought I’d see if there was any truth to them.”
    “Oh, really?” the man replied, clearly bored, “If we needed one of your people we would have sent word to your little tower.”
    Darrick bristled and stomped toward the desk, “I don’t think you’re in any position to decide what this city does and doesn’t need. Now fetch the Chancellor, or I’ll fetch them myself and explain why their secretary has been turned into a doormat.”
    “You- You can’t!” The man’s eyes were wide as he searched for the right words, “The audacity! To make threats in the middle of the town hall! Who do you think you are Void-Spawn?”
    Darrick reigned his temper in and stepped back from the desk. He pulled a cigar out of his pouch and fit it to his lips, “The name’s Darrick.” He held up his left hand and a gout of black and silver Void-fire jumped from his fingers to light the cigar.
    The secretary went pale as he stared at Darrick, his eyes as big as plates. He stepped around his chair, “I’ll speak to the Chancellor.”
    He scurried out of the room and through the back door. Darrick crossed his arms and waited, smoke curling around him as he puffed rapidly. Been years since he’d been treated like that.
    The secretary reemerged, “The Chancellor will see you now, Master Darrick.” He punctuated his words with a bow.
    Darrick pointed at him with the cigar, “That’s more like it.” He crushed the cigar out again on his forearm as he slid past the secretary and into the Chancellor’s office. He shut the door with a click behind him and turned to face the Chancellor.
    She gestured to a chair before her desk, “Please, sit. I apologize for Neil’s behavior. He was brought up by a rather old fashioned family. We keep trying to show him it’ll bring him nothing but trouble but he doesn’t seem to understand.”
     She shook her head as Darrick sat and she continued, “Chancellor Fiona Arrel at your service, Second to the Duke, his younger sister, yada yada yada. I understand that you are a Darkwalker.”
    Darkwalker, Void-Touched, Shadowed Lights in the far west, all were acceptable terms. The name they used though was Siphon.
    Darrick nodded as he rolled his thoughts around, "Heard a few rumors while I was traveling and I thought I'd see if there was any truth to them.”
    Fiona folded her hands in her lap, “The truth is that I could use someone like you.”
    “I’ve heard your people have lost quite a bit of livestock. A couple of folks have gone missing. All in the last three arcs.”
    “All true unfortunately,” She shook her head, her eyes focused on nothing, “The livestock started 24 days ago, so a little more then two and a half. A young man disappeared 7 days ago. A young couple was killed 3 days ago. She was found. He was not.”
    Darrick grunted, “Besides the couple they were all isolated? No one around at the time except the victims?”
    “No one has come forward,” Fiona turned her gaze on him, “The young man was reported missing by his family the following morning. The guard asked his friends and they said he had left the bar to head home.”
    “He live somewhere isolated?”
    “On one of the outlying farms, north of the city.”
    A grunt from Darrick as he absently pulled the half burnt cigar from his pouch. He froze with it halfway to his lips, “You mind?”
    She shook her head and Darrick placed the cigar in his mouth. He lit it with a flame contained within his palm. Darrick let a cloud of smoke out through his nose and asked, “Most of the incidents happen in the north?”
    Fiona nodded again, “The couple was in a meadow by the river north of the city. Most of the cattle taken were in the northern fields. A few to the east.”
    Darrick grunted, “There is the matter of my payment.”
    “Of course,” Fiona leaned back in her chair and studied him, clearly waiting for him to name a number.
    He considered the information. Clearly a flier but not one of the larger ones if it left behind one of its victims. Living somewhere to the north. Darrick pulled the cigar from his mouth and asked, “Anything at the places where they went missing? Burns? Claw marks?”
    “Nothing.”
    Worst case it was a newborn Yentós. An entity of living shadow that could drag its victims into a pocket reality of darkness. Doubtful though. They usually didn’t inflict physical harm unless threatened or unable to control its own power. Plus they didn’t like sunlight and there weren’t many caves around.
    Odds were that he was dealing with a Kerrtin. A darkling reminiscent of a dog fused with a bat in the most basic sense. He placed the cigar back in his mouth and looked up at Fiona, “Three gold.”
    “Two.”
    “Twelve Silver.”
    “That’s the same amount?” She asked incredulous.
    Darrick smirked, “Never was good at math. 10. 4 up front.”
    Fiona considered that for a moment,  “I can do 10 when the job is done. None up front.”
    “A man has to eat, my dear,” Darrick lowered the cigar from his mouth, “3 up front.”
    “10 when the job is done,” Fiona responded, “And I’ll arrange for you to eat and sleep in the servants’ hall for the night.”
    “The help going to be alright with a man like me staying with them?”
    “I’ll ensure they can manage.”
    Darrick placed the cigar back in his mouth and extended his hand. The scales covering his forearm glittered from garnet to crimson as the light played off of them. He smiled, “You’ve hired yourself a Siphon, Chancellor.”
    She studied his scaled hand and then pulled her eyes back to his own. Fiona took his hand and shook it firmly, “A pleasure doing business with you.”