Strange City Magic

6: A Witch's Magic

When someone goes missing in the City, the only thing to do is wait. Miri opened the faded messenger bag on her hip, and produced a full bottle of red wine from within. Loren felt her eyes widen. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Part of my payment for the Run. I need your kitchen for the rest."

"By all means." She waved her off, and endured a little searing abdomen pain to sit up and pour herself a glass.

Barter was king in the City. In the beginning, people used and accepted money as a reflection of habit. That stopped after those people found themselves with hundreds of various, colorful banknotes and no food. People appeared in the City from every imaginable locale, creating a massive exchange rate confusion for which there was no possible arbitration. The only place that still tried was the Moss, where rich kids with running water still pretended that the City was a tourist destination, but rumor had it that it wasn't working well. In the end, folks reverted to the simpler solution. Not the most elegant, but it worked - and that was more than enough.

Most scavenged. As a Runner, Loren traded goods from her forays into the Sometimes. But there was something even more valuable than coffee beans and alcohol. Secrets greased the wheel of the City's cutthroat marketplace, and there was little that people cared about more than who was doing what magic, and how. She swirled the wine once or twice, then sipped. It was deep, and bitter. But then, it all tasted the same to her. "Where'd you score the red?"

"University." From the kitchen came various sounds of clinking and clattering.

"I'm in the wrong profession."

"They're not only interested in witches. They would be plenty interested in you," she said, speaking loud over the noise.

"Would it mean I have to live like a hermit?"

Miri's scowl was almost audible. "I'm hardly a hermit anymore. I've been down at the University almost every day."

Loren leaned back on the couch, and stared up at the spiderweb of cracks on the ceiling. An intoxicating smell filled the apartment, something sharp and earthy like a field of spices after a thunderstorm, which reminded her that in the last two days she'd consumed a grand total of one beer and half a glass of wine. She took another drink. Nothing she could do would stop her thoughts from spiralling back to where they wanted to be. "I don't know how she heard about me, but Su was the one who sought me out." She closed her eyes as she spoke. "I wasn't squatting at the time, just living on the street down Wending. Hungry, cold, addicted - like every other person down there. Su talked to me out of the blue one day; told me that she'd heard of my special talent and that she had a business proposition for me. I told her I'd do whatever, for a little money. Instead she gave me food and beat the living hell out of me until I got straight."

Miri was quiet for a while. The only sounds were those of pouring liquids and lids being placed on pots. "Have I ever told you how I met her?" she asked.

"Never."

"It was before you showed up on the scene. You know, I offered my practice up to people back then. Called myself a healer. That was before I got sick of it all. One night a couple young men dragged their bleeding friend up to my front door and demanded help. Refused to go to the clinic - something about being watched. I didn't ask, and I didn't want to know. The kid was messed up. Barely lucid. Barely breathing."

"What happened?"

"I warned them. I really did. But even I couldn't have guessed that I would botch the procedure as badly as I did. The kid started convulsing. Spitting like mad. Choking. You can probably guess the rest. Friends weren't happy, started shouting and smashing up the place. Threatening me. I thought they were going to kill me, but then Su comes charging through the door. She just happened to be nearby, and decided to interject herself into the situation. Like she does. She shouted all three of them down, and frog-marched them out into the woods on my behalf."