There was not very much planning to be done until Thea did some intelligence gathering on the library. She had to meet her mentor at the druidic gardens in the morning, so Raith wouldn’t likely hear from her until tomorrow at skirmisher practice.

  It was very frustrating to be so close yet have to wait. As he walked the familiar route home from the river, Raith’s mind worked fruitlessly to assemble a puzzle that was missing most of the pieces.

  Maybe I can buy an invisibility potion and just walk right in.

  A wayward breeze brought a blitz of familiar smells that told him he was getting close to home in the Huecrafter’s District. The sweetness of drying indigo leaves mingled in the air with cinnamon and cedar that simmered in great pots to be turned into dyes. Bitter notes from the mordants of vinegar and alum added a sharp undertone.

  Herbalist and alchemist shops were scattered among the huecrafters, adding their own curious odors to the mix as each profession discovered surprising overlaps in methods and ingredients.

  In any other city, the Alchemist Guild with their wondrous concoctions, or Herbalist Guild with healing cures and salves, would be the authority in this district. Not so in the City of Threads. The Huecrafters Guild created colors, both magical and mundane, that were coveted in every land where mortals draped themselves in clothing.

  Stone and brick construction of the wealthier Merchant’s District gave way to smaller buildings of exposed dark timber and white masonry. It was still one of the nicer areas of the city, providing many products in high demand. For all the gold that moved through the streets of this district, however, the muddle of aromas ensured those who could afford it lived elsewhere.

  A pair of guards were chatting amiably with old man Kofi as he closed up shop for the day. The herbalist had opened and closed his apothecary at exactly the same time for longer than Raith had been alive. Kofi took one day off each week, entirely at random, because ‘an element of discord is the secret to youth’.

  The closing shop made Raith aware that the day had grown late. The long summer sun had fooled him again, and his stomach grumbled in protest of an overdue meal. Watching as Kofi bid the guards a cheerful farewell, he caught up before the man could wander off.

  Kofi seemed surprised to see him, and not especially pleased. Raith only now remembered the last time he had been in the shop. He and Thea were trying to buy ingredients to make an illicit potion he’d read about that would supposedly produce euphoria and allow them to see into the dream realm. The old man was too saavy an herbalist to be fooled, and dragged them by their ears back to their parents.

  Kofi quickly recovered his composure and offered a tight smile.

  “Young Raith, it feels like only yesterday you were a foot shorter and sniffing around my shop with that satyr girl. Goodness, but you look just exactly like your father did when he was your age. I’m afraid I’ve just closed up shop, but I’ll be in at the usual time tomorrow.”

  “No, sir. I just have a quick question. Do you know about what an invisibility potion would cost?”

  “Well, that’s really an alchemist potion, you know. Not my area of expertise. An educated guess might be around two hundred gold. Perhaps more.” His curiosity at the question eroded and a bushy eyebrow went up.

  “Why?” he asked, drawing the word out with suspicion.

  “My, uh, sister always wanted one and her birthday’s coming up.”

  That sounded lame, even to Raith. The old man stared at him, a slight downturn at the corners of his mouth.

  “I see. Well, please stay out of trouble, young man. And tell your parents hello for me. I can only imagine the difficulties they’ve faced.”

  With that dubious farewell, the man trundled off to leave Raith no closer to his goal.

  Two hundred gold?! Good grief, I can’t come up with that kind of money.

  Raith’s stomach was the first to notice when he arrived home, redoubling its noisy gurgles as he walked through the door. His mother was in the small storefront tattoo studio with a client. An absolute bear of a man who soldiered with his father, but whose name he couldn’t recall. Veins popped out of the man’s forehead, bearded face flushed red from straining against the pain as Raith’s mother warned him to sit still.

  I know exactly how you feel, sir.

  His mother didn’t look up from her careful work as she acknowledged his entrance.

  “I’m going to be awhile. Your father is on extra patrol outside the city for festival travelers. He took Derry with for some experience before the academy starts next month, so you’re on your own for dinner. There’s stew from last night in the preserve locker.”

  “Thanks, mom.”

  “And don’t forget about your uncle’s funeral next week,” she called as he made his way past the storefront was a short hallway.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Merin, his father’s brother, had been an adventurer and one of Raith’s idols growing up. Rare visits filled with amazing stories and exotic gifts. Merin had been killed trying to reach the pinnacle of a godtower to obtain a boon. Raith still hadn’t processed that he would never hear that boisterous laugh again.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He followed the hallway past the bathroom door to where it opened into a larger kitchen and dining area. A polished wooden table was big enough to accommodate a few guests, and the window above the sink provided a pleasant view into the small courtyard garden out back.

  Raith opened the door to the locker, preservation runes giving a brief flare of warning as the circuit was broken. It was way too hot to mess with a fire in the stove and he didn’t feel like eating room temperature stew. Instead, he carved off sizable portions of salami and cheese, then ripped a hunk off the loaf of bread. Grabbing the entire pitcher if water and not bothering with a cup, he plopped down at the table with his bounty. If his mom came in, she’d pitch a fit, but he was confident she’d be tied up for a while.

  It was nice to have an easy problem to solve. He was hungry. He stuffed food down his throat. Now he was not hungry. The simplicity of it all was viscerally satisfying. Raith found the reprieve short-lived as his mind returned to that damned elusive book.

  There was one last desperate option for him to try, but he wasn’t sure he could muster the courage to follow through with it. Taking a long pull of water to wash down the last of his plain dry bread, he clenched his jaw in determination and headed up the stairs.

  He passed his bedroom, avoiding the temptation to duck in and lie down to rest. There was no hiding if he wanted to succeed.

  When he arrived at the door he sought, Raith paused with his hand poised to knock, not certain if he could follow through. The knowledge of what awaited him on the other side was almost too awful to contemplate. Pain. Humiliation. Turmoil.

  His older sister.

  The decision was taken out of his hands as the door flew open and eyes so brown they were almost black drilled into his soul.

  “What in the threaded fuck are you doing creeping around outside my door?!”

  This was already getting off to a poor start. Leah was wearing a nice but casual dress, and in some awkward beginning stage of preparing her hair that he didn’t really understand and didn’t want to.

  “Sorry. I just have a favor to ask if you have a minute.”

  “So ask it,” she said without moving from the doorway.

  “Can I come in and talk?”

  Her fierce gaze remained unchanged as she considered the request. Just as Raith became convinced Leah was going to tell him to shove off, she relented.

  “Fine, just don’t touch anything. I’m meeting friends in a little while and need to finish getting ready.”

  Leah’s room and Raith’s were about the same size, but Leah’s seemed enormous because he shared his with their two brothers. Her bed was twice as big, which always gave him a pang of jealousy to see. Not that he spent much time in bed, but it was the principle of it. A neatly organized workbench lined one wall, with several books about runecraft on a shelf above. She had learned runic magic from their mother, but applied the art towards enchanting jewelry rather than tattoos.

  “Well, go on then,” she said, sitting back down at the vanity to fiddle with her hair.

  He took a deep breath. Easier to just be out with it.

  “I need you to make me an invisibility ring.”

  She stopped and turned to look at him with a looked of feigned panic.

  “Quick, get mom. We need to rush you to the healer. Worms are eating your brain and I fear it’s already half gone.”

  “Come on, Leah. This is really important.” He could hear the whine in his voice and despised it. Closing his eyes, Raith refocused. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her if he couldn’t speak like an actual adult.

  “I finally found the pattern for the class I need. It is long past time for me to leave and strike out on my own.”

  “We can both agree on that.” She turned back to fixing her hair.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You made me the pattern masking ring. Why not this?”

  She whirled back on him.

  “First of all, I made you that ring because it would break mom and dad’s heart to see you wove a [Thief] class.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  Now she stood, leveling a finger.

  “Second of all, you don’t have any money. I have actual, real paying customers. Ones who have never doused my favorite shoes with a stink potion.”

  “That was eight years ago. Do you intend to hold that against me till we die?”

  “What I intend to do is save up enough to buy a nice little apartment over a jewelry shop in the Merchant’s District. Which I am this close to doing. But it will never happen if I spend all my time making free shit for my layabout brother.”

  “That’s not fair…”

  This time the interruption came with a finger jab to the chest.

  “And third, I don’t have the skill to craft a ring of invisibility, you nitwit. Do you have the slightest idea how advanced the runecraft involved is? It will be years before I can make something like that, and when I finally get there, you can be damn sure I won’t be doing it for you.”

  Having said her piece, Leah smoothed the sides of her dress and resumed her usual detached and haughty expression before sitting back down. Raith was a heartbeat from letting her have it before firing off [Life in Staccato]. He needed a moment to get his anger under control.

  There were a thousand insults he wanted to yell at his arrogant sister, but uttering them would just make everything worse. She couldn’t make the ring, and no amount of screaming or arguing was going to change that. A little while longer and the heat of her comments began to drain away.

  When the world resumed, he schooled his face to a carefully neutral expression. She glanced at him in the mirror, briefly meeting his eyes. Was that a hint of sadness he saw? It didn’t matter. He gave her the slightest nod before turning to let himself out of the room. The door may have closed somewhat harder than was strictly necessary, but he didn’t quite count it as a slam.

  The clutter of his room only darkened his mood. All of his skirmisher leathers lay piled on his bed. Replacing where they had once been in the corner sat a pile of soldier’s field gear. His perfect little brother, Derry. Who followed in their father’s footsteps like a dutiful son, instead of deliberately classing in a non-solider weapon like the rope dart.

  Raith picked up all the gear and threw it onto Derry’s bed, making as much of mess as he could. Grabbing his padded leathers, he placed them back in the corner and climbed into bed.

  How long has it been since I’ve even been in my own bed? A week? A month?

  After stitching the [Lesser Endurance] skill, Raith found he had the energy to keep his boredom at bay almost constantly. He was rarely even home anymore, and a bit of guilt crept in over the treatment of Derry’s gear.

  He’s actually a good kid. Only ever wants to please everyone. It doesn’t make any difference if the bed I never use is full of stuff.

  Climbing back out of bed, he carefully put Derry’s gear back where it had been. It was even neater than he’d found it.

  He’ll probably think mom did it.

  Before throwing his skirmisher equipment back onto the bed, he laid down one more time. With eyes closed, he activated [Staccato], entering a mental space completely disconnected from his body. Like floating in a void. The state was very conducive to his usual restorative, dreamless sleep, and he was sure he’d need the rest.

  There was only one more place to try to get some help with this book, and he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.