“Fine,” she said. She whipped her shoulder bag to her front, opehe zipper and pushed it forward. Arn deposited both items in the bag. “Thanks for the card.” She turned around and headed for the door.

  “Have a safe journey. And give him my regards.”

  She gave the man a thumbs up before stepping outside, the noise of busy people greeting her. She still had a number of things to do, but for now, she just wanted some rest.

  5. Getting a Job – July 23, Year 216

  Sally paid the innkeeper with some of the looted from the burned-out caravan, along with a retively generous tip. She’d slept in and missed breakfast, but they’d been willing to whip up something for her regardless, and a rge breakfast at that. They’d more than ear.

  Stepping onto the pza once more, she headed toward the Circuit Runner’s Guild. While she had been lucky to get some loot she could sell from the caravan and the bloodfiend, she o buy extra provisions – preferably something more than cheese and hardtack – along with camping supplies, like a bedroll and a simple fmer to cook on. It would probably take all she had. Furthermore, she had her future to sider, as unready for it as she was.

  In short, she had to get a job.

  The ground floor of the Circuit Runner’s Guild ractically the opposite to the Arist’s one. Rather than a quiet, closed-off room with a single clerk, the Circuit Runner’s Guild was a bar filled with rough people in rougher clothes, all sitting on cushions at stoables busy talkiing and arguing with each other.

  Having never been here before, she didn’t quite know where to go in order to apply, get assigned or whatever it was they did with newers. Lag dires, she went to the most likely source to give her answers: the publi.

  Marg up to the ter and seeing the woman wasn’t particurly busy, simply p drinks and grabbing ptes from the kit through a broad window to the kit, Sally simply asked: “Where do I o go to get a job?”

  The woman gave her a gnce, eyes lingering briefly but notably at the cut-off and tied-up left sleeve. Sally set her jaw, ready tue back, but the bartend thankfully decided not to start one.

  “Third floor, any open door will do,” she said, pointing at the staircase to the right of the room, before turning back to her duties.

  “Thanks,” Sally replied simply, if a bit brusquely.

  As she went up the stairs, she saw glimpses of what the rest of the building taihe first floor en space filled with desks which half-encircled their octs, on which y a variety of papers and books, along with pen and ink. Manning these desks were people in some form of bd-white uniform, looking much less rough than the people she saw in the bar. They were either busy writing things down, searg things in their books or talking with the much more varied people in front of them.

  The business floor, most like.

  The sed floor was simpler and much less open. There were two corridors from the stairs, oher side of which were numerous doors but a couple of feet from one another. Most people were like those on the ground floor – rough, skinny, wiry; clearly the runners of the guilds – milling about and gathering their things, with a smaller number of the uniformed people talking to a few of the runners. Some of the doors were still open, through which Sally could see simple rooms with simpler beds.

  Temporary lodgings fuild runners, she supposed. She certainly hoped they weren’t their perma residences.

  The third floor was like a bination of both previous floors, and also not like them at all. It had a much higher ceiling, for ohe sides tained rger doors, each with a name scribbled on a metal pque. Lining the space between the doors were a number of cushioned wooden benches with small tables attached to them, while at the ter of the floor were was a small garden of cacti, bushes and even a small tree. There was even a river in miniature meandering through it.

  Sally wondered if the water was drinkable. In any other pce it would most likely be fresh simply to add to the extravagance. But the Anteer cities had a particur, religious reverence for the waters of Lake Prior, which everyone could drink, but only ohout dying for certain. It would not be surprising for this to be ued, but unlikely sidering the fs. Wouldn’t want someoo have an act, after all.

  Most doors were closed, but she spotted one half-open oher side of the garden and walked towards it. ‘Ain Teschel’, the sign on the door read. She knocked and pushed it open.

  Behind it was an impressive room. Most things seemed to be made of wood – the chairs, the table in the ter of the room itself, the bookcases lining the left wall furthest from the door, all of it. On the tral table there was a gss pitcher filled with water, with a number of smaller gsses on a ptter. The desk at the baearest to a window, was a desk rger than those of on the first floor and of a darker wood.

  Behind the desk, on an eborate wooden chair, sat an older man with a ventionally attractive look and a head full of greying-blond hair coiffed to the side. Looking up from whatever he was writing, she was met with an inquisitive, though professionally friendly gaze.

  “Wele. It is always a pleasant surprise for my appois to arrive early.”

  Sally scratched her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t know you were expeg someone. I’m Sally, I was directed here by the publi?”

  The man smirked. “I figured, ‘twas a joke. They never arrive early.” The man id the pen down on and waved his hand at the chair in front of him. Sally took the invitation and sat down, bag on her p.

  The desk wasn’t particurly rge, but it felt like she could barely look over it. bined with her small height, the man oher felt rger, more intimidating than he was. It left her feeling both disfited and annoyed.

  “Now then, how I help you?” Ain tinued.

  “I’m looking for work, specifically for the duration of my jouro Lovesse, and perhaps beyond.”

  “You aren’t a runner with the Guild, I take it?”

  “No, sir.” When was the st time I addressed someone as sir?

  The man was silent and simply stared at her, though not without a quick but pointed g tied-up half-sleeve.

  “Then I’m afraid I ot help you. Only those affiliated with the Guild one way or the another take on assigs. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I do.”

  “Easy, I join the guild. I’ve been a Warden for five years – eight if you t my training before that. I know the threats, I’ve fought the threats, and I know the Circuits and travel them fast, I’ve-”

  Ain held up his hand to cut her off. Annoyingly, it worked.

  “Look, even if you were a Warden, there is a method to these things,” his voice remained ral, although a steel had crept into it. “To bee a runner, you either need an apprenticeship, a letter of reendation or a sponsorship from a notable, her of which you have or you’d have mentio. And I doubt anyone would give you ohis time, the look at her sleeve urposefully obvious.

  Sally bit down the a his dismissal. “I’ve travelled forty miles in two days, from the Vils to the Gold and Red and then here.” She rummaged through her bag to get the bloodfiend tongue-fang. The man tensed for a sed and reached for something underh the desk, but she didn’t care.

  “In the past two days – let alohe past eight years – I’ve crossed the Graidle, alone. Scared off a sheepstealer, alone. I’ve been attacked by a bloodfiend,” she held up the demon’s fang “and not only lived, I killed it. Alone.”

  It was somewhat of a misrepresentation, but she didn’t care.

  Ain looked about to say something, before freezing for a sed. “May I?” He asked, hands outstretched. She gave him the fang.

  Ain looked at it ponderously. He seemed frustrated, though this time not at her.

  “What did you say your st name was?”

  She hadn’t, but replied: “Palters.”

  A shallow sigh left his lips.

  “And do you pn to take the Gold or Red Circuit on your way to Lovesse?” He asked as he hahe fang back to her.

  Taking and st it again, Sally replied: “I thought on taking the Red, but gh Gadeon, if that is what you’re asking. Or tinue on ters, or Southwall.”

  She didn’t know what had ged, bet she’d take it.

  Ain waved her off. “No, no, that’s fine. Or, well, it’s not, but there’s nothing I do about it.”

  He grabbed a small piece of paper from his desk, wrote something and sig before passing it to her.

  Déjà vu, she thought, accepting the said: ‘This individual is representing the Cardinar Circuit Runner’s Guild’ and signed ‘Ain Taschel, senior manager’.

  “So, I have a job now?”

  “Two weeks ago, my wife’s niece came to visit.” A strange non-squitter, but she didn’t stop him. “She nning some form of ‘spiritual jouro the great kes of the Grand Circuit – even Dread Lake. She’s a priest, a Dekantist, you see, and somewhat odd even for them.” There was some real bitterness in his void he became more animated as he talked, gesturing out his frustrations.

  “Now, my wife was obviously not happy, but it was fine; pilgrimages happen all the time and it meant she would rise in standing in the church. What was not fihough, is that she wouldn’t be joining them. Now, my wife loves her, so I, of course, offered a band of ruo travel with her for safekeeping. To my sternation – and my dear wife’s horror – she refused! Said she had to do it alone!”

  She’d leaned ba her chair at the ued rant.

  Not that he seemed to notice her anymore. He’d begun pag around in anger. He grabbed a bottle of brown liquid out of the et he windooured himself some. Then, immediately downed half of it, then turned around and poi her, gss in hand.

  “Then, suddenly, she got a gzed look in her eyes and said: ‘One fang in one hand, send the st of the Palters to me’ or some suonsense. All in that whispery, hard-to-hear tone of hers. Now, I see that you don’t know anything-” she was mildly offe the phrasing “or you’d have said something about it. ‘Trobably that damned ke again.” He whispered the st part.

  He looked a bit disheveled, some of his hairs falling into his eyes before smoothing them ba pce. He’d begun to calm down aook the seat behind his desk.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like her well enough, but she be just so… muetimes.” He dowhe other half of his drink, letting the silence linger for a moment.

  “Now, I don’t know for sure what she’ll ask you, but it seems obvious. You agree to it, guide her and make sure she’s safe, got it?”

  She nodded and before she could broach the subject, Ain reached into some drawer and handed her a pouch. From the feel a of it, it was filled with and paper money, and not a small amount of it either.

  “Upon pletion, you’ll get the other half alongside a letter of reendation. Meaning you’ll be a full member of the Guild.”

  He looked at her, gre signifitly intensifying.

  “If you fail, do not set in foot in Cardinar again or the only foot you’ll know is six underground. Am I clear?”

  The man wasn’t particurly intimidating – he looked like too much of a bureaucrat for her to feel that danger – but the threat was clear, real and within his means.

  “Got it,” Sally responded, rising from her seat.

  “Good.” Some of the maniergy had left the man, making him look tired, far more than when she walked in. “You know the way to the church?”

  “Yep, down main from west, towards the ke.”

  She got up a, nothing further needing to be said.

  It was time to do some shopping.

  X

  The Red Bazaar was, of course, just door. A grand, circur building over thirty yards in diameter, the inside of it acked with market stalls and the people wanderiween them. ting the ground floor, there were three levels to it. The roof en, albeit covered in a tarp of some kind to block the sun. Due to the open ceiling, the first and sed floor were smaller and not as busy, but the further up the more expehe goods.

  The cloying smells, loud noises and dazzling lights of gssware glinting in the sparse sunlight while the rest of the room lingered iarp’s shadow; all of it overwhelmed her senses. A within the nausea, she ironically found something f.

  Her home had been a bit like this. All of her family, all of the men and women bearing the Palters name, living in a pact cube and underground tunnels, talkiing, w and living together. She’d found it custrophobic at times; another reason she wished to leave for the Circuits. Another reason for why she had bee a Warden.

  A thing she would ruly experience again, only false memories jumpstarted by parallels.

  heless, she had a reason for being here and got to it.

  Selling the handguns and rifles along with ammunition she’d looted from the caravan was an easy thing; ons were always in demand. She kept one of the rifles, though, along with its apanying ammunition. She did not know if her panion-to-be had her own ons, but she figured a priest wouldn’t normally keep one on hand.

  The rifle she kept was a Scarab .308 lever-a, a slightly less powerful rifle than the lever-a she was used to. Hopefully, the priest could help with sed support.

  The bloodfiend fang was a bit more difficult to sell. She k could be done – Niall had told her about arts of what demons were worth something – but she didn’t quite know where to sell. The meneralist stores offered little pared to what she’d been told, and had been unwilling tain or barter. Eventually, she did find an alchemist on the sed floor who did.

  It was a vocation unfamiliar to her, but apparently it ecialized form of a Vil medi – a healer with a slightly magical twist. One of the few exceptions to the no-magic-allowed attitude of the Vils.

  With money in hand, she could nourchasing. A browher, military-style duffle bag was the first, to sling on her back while her other, smaller backpack would go to her front. A sed and third set of clothes and underwear, all of either cotton and linen. Some extra .45 and .308 ammunitiora waterbags, both for her and the priest.

  Her most important purchase, however, was a fully-charged burner with a skillet and a cooking pot. She even purchased some refills for it, the small charged metal easy enough to carry. Now she could finally prepare something other tack, cheese and salted meats, or at the very least make them taste better with some vegetables in a stew.

  All in all, she felt ready for the jouro e. Hopefully, the priest would be too, or this could quickly turn into a months-long nightmare.