Gifted

10

Isaiah James was distracted. Many people, the Bellator Chief included, thought him a pessimist, but Isaiah believed he was just realistic. It was this suspicious, realistic attitude that was distracting him. He had no hard evidence that the House of Dominus was playing a larger, more deadly game, but his instinct said otherwise. It was an itch in the back of his mind that he couldn't ignore, but also one that he couldn't get rid of. The Chief had explicitly told him to keep his head down and to not cause trouble, something that was bound to happen if Isaiah allowed himself to address his suspicions.

To add to his worries, his visions about Erin had become more vivid and more disturbing. Isaiah had met with the other Seers in his House, and they had experienced the same premonitions that he had: a young girl (who Isaiah knew to be Erin) would somehow bring about a great catastrophe that would change the City irreparably and spell the end for the three magical Houses.

Isaiah had high hopes that Erin would pass Initiation quickly. Her first day of training had demonstrated her strength and willpower, and Isaiah was sure she would excel at whatever Kazi could throw at her.

Without the Chief's leave to investigate his worries, Isaiah had decided to take on a few run-of-the-mill assignments in the hopes that they would clear his mind. He was currently making his way towards the docks on the southern edge of the City, to a warehouse owned by a company called Southtide Salt Trading Co. The House had received a tip off that the company was being used as a legal front by slavers who had been kidnapping children from the City to sell them in the slave markets of the Southern Kingdoms. Slavery had been illegal in the City for three centuries, and kidnapping was a severe breaking of the law, so Isaiah had been sent to investigate.

The docks were alive with people. Bare-chested dockworkers laboured hard under a blistering sun, sea-captains yelled instructions from moored vessels and bookkeepers scored off barrels of salt and fish and tobacco on clipboards. Like much of the southern City, it was a highly animated, chaotic place, and Isaiah revelled in it. Though he enjoyed the style and refined nature of life in the northern district of the City, its people bored him greatly. In the southern district, people were brash, lively and wilful, not delicate, sly and deceitful like in the north.

Isaiah soon arrived at his destination. Unlike the other warehouses and storage buildings in the area, this one seemed closed. Isaiah walked up to the large, sliding door and knocked on it with the head of his cane. A long moment passed then the door opened a crack and a man poked his head out.

"What do you want?" the man demanded. He was middle-aged with thick jowls and a squashed nose that looked as if it had been broken too many times.

"My name is Mr Isaiah James-"

"I didn't ask you who you were, shithead, I asked what you want."

"I wish to search this building by order of the House of Bellator," Isaiah said pleasantly.

"Go fuck yourself mate, I ain't never heard of no House of Bellator. Better scram before I knock the shit out of you."

"I bet the reason you've never heard of the House is because you're not from here, are you?" Isaiah said mildly. "You're from the Southern Kingdoms, I'd bet. If you have any friends in there who are native to the City, I advise you ask them about the House. I really must search this warehouse."

"Look mate, I don't-"

"I'm searching this warehouse whether you like it or not," Isaiah said, his politeness replaced with dangerous confidence. "Let me in or I'll let myself in."

The man saw the grim look on Isaiah's face and bit his lip.

"Wait here one moment," he said, before disappearing from sight.