Chapter 24.1: Landlord

Nearly two days had passed, and Minkus and Penny were seemingly no closer to finding Eddie. They'd visited Hronsson's, scoured the market of the Western Commons, and passed Penny’s still locked shop more than once. In each place, they'd spoken to anyone they could who might know anything about Eddie. A pair of regulars at the put mentioned seeing the young man recently, but they said it had been several days, and neither knew where he currently was. Vendors at the market that Penny often sent Eddie to buy from said similar: that he’d been consistently coming to buy up until the last few days. And, just as Penny has guessed, he was never at the shop, because it was locked tight at all times.

Finally, after they’d exhausted their options on the west side of the city, the two moved their search eastward, to Rurikton, where Penny knew Eddie had recently found an inexpensive place to live. It was their most logical, as far as Minkus was concerned. That was, until he learned, much to his surprise, that Penny didn’t know exactly where in Rurikton the young man lived, only that it was in fact somewhere in that district.

“You really don't know where he lives?” Minkus asked as they passed through the gates that led into Rurikton. “You’ve been friends for how many years?”

“God’s, Biggie, I don’t know. He’s worked with me,” she stressed those words, “two years? Maybe more? I don’t keep track, any more than I keep track of where he lives. Not my business. He said he found a place to crash with some other kid who’d gone straight. That was good enough for me.”

“But you haven’t gone to visit him?”

They continued walking, but Penny looked down at him askance. “Gods no. We work together every day. The last thing either of us needs is me breathing down his neck at home.”

The sentiment perplexed him: not wanting to be more connected to the people she called friends. Suddenly, as though hearing it again, he recognized what she’d said just a moment before: he’s worked with me. He’d asked how long they’d been friends, and she’d replied with the duration of their working relationship. They’d spent most evenings together talking over a pint at Hronsson’s, and that didn’t constitute friendship? His train of thought slowly led to a subsequent question. Did she consider Minkus a friend? He surely saw her as his friend, but he’d never thought to ask the opposite.

He thought about it for several minutes, periodically glancing up at the human as they continued on along the smoothed-brick roads that wound between the homes of Rurikton. He opened his mouth, about to ask his friend more about her relationship to her apprentice, when he noticed something that distracted him.

They rounded a corner back to the Rurikton square, at the center of the district. People passed the fountain at its center, heading in all directions, but too many found their way into a line that led eastward, up a ramp and onto a platform with an asura gate.

Minkus cocked his head, unsure how he’d missed it before, when they’d first come into the square. “Where’s that gate lead?” he asked Penny. “I thought the garden gate was the only one.”

“Gate?” Penny turned. “Oh, that. Somewhere in Ascalon, I think. Probably Ebonhawke.” Minkus nodded, a little captivated at the thought of an asura gate to the far east.

Beside the gate stood a pair of asura: a female who looked particularly short and slender, especially beneath a knappy mass of blue hair, and an older, pale-haired and balding male who was shaped like a butternut squash. Both wore technician’s overalls, the clothes used by people who had to often get dirty fixing grimy equipment. Jinkke had always hated having coveralls, because it meant the end of her theorizing and the beginning of tougher manual labor. She was funny like that.

Minkus sighed.

—-

Another hour passed as they searched the streets of Rurikton, but it produced no more results than searching anywhere else, and the two found themselves crossing the city once more to return to the Western Commons. Minkus walked along at Penny's side, moving faster than usual in an effort to keep up with the woman's strides. Somehow she's managed to keep up that same quickened pace the whole day, even without Minkus magically restoring her. She was certainly over the affects of her drinking binge.

“Rurikton’s a big part of town,” Minkus mused, scratching his ear. “It's much bigger than I expected. Hard to find just one person.”

“Yeah, sure is.”

“I think we should go back there again tomorrow,” he said, looking up at the human expectantly. “There must be parts we missed.”

Penny didn't even look down at him; her eyes remained fixed ahead. “I’m hoping we don’t have to.”

Minkus gave her a curious look. “But Penny, we have to find—”

“Yeah, I know. Eddie is my apprentice, and we have to find him. I know. It has to wait, though.” Now she did look down at him, at least for a second before returning her searching gaze to what was before them. They rounded the corner out of the upper city’s halls and onto the upper end of the Melandru High Road. “It’s time for me to talk to my new ‘landlord,’ which I know you didn’t forget, because you’re still following me, no matter how many times I’ve told you not to.” She snapped another quick glance at him.

“I know, Penny,” Minkus sighed. His huge ears feel forward under his dismay. “I just feel it’s safer if—”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s safer if I have a friend with me.” Penny shook her head. “Whatever. It still feels like you’re watching me, not them.”

Minkus looked up at her, trying hard to keep his feelings to himself. That felt weird. The truth, though, was that Penny was right: since she’d shown him the letter from her new landlord, he had started watching her more closely. He’d tried for the last day to convince himself he was just looking out for her, and in part he was. Since sensing her dishonesty in their room at Master Gill’s inn, though, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that she was still lying in some way. Stranger still, it had taken him some deep thought late into the night, but he was fairly confident she wasn’t just lying to him, but to herself as well. None of it really made sense to him.

“I— well, I suppose I am watching you, Penny,” he said. “You’ve been acting strangely, and I wouldn’t want to see you as drunk as when I found you again.”

“Gods.” She was about to continue when she stopped. Both her mouth and her feet stopped.

Minkus saw what Penny was now staring at. Standing halfway down the road was a small figure. They were much too far off to make out much about the person, but there was no arguing that he or she was waiting for something, standing still amid the handful of passersby. Compared to other figures moving up and down the road, the stationary person was notably small and had a head nearly as wide as its shoulders. It was an asura.

“Must be the rat,” Penny scowled, taking a step forward and continuing at her previous pace toward the destination. Minkus followed closely.

As they approached, the asura’s features came more into view. He had commonly narrow shoulders atop a potbelly that wasn’t hidden at all by his work coveralls. A horseshoe of pale hair crowned his head, and though he stood with his hands clasped behind him, Minkus didn’t note any impatience in his posture. Almost happily, he bobbed to unheard music, and though Minkus couldn’t place it, something about him looked familiar.

Still several yards away, Penny inhaled sharply. She was preparing to speak, and if her eyes said anything, it was that what she had to say was not going to be nice. Before she could get it out, though, the asura caught sight of them and spoke.

“Miss Arkayd?” he asked, gazing at her and then at Minkus even more intently.

“Are you Wepp?” she called at him, looking as though she didn’t need or want an answer.

The asura stepped forward at a slow waddle and wagged a finger. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he said cautiously.

Penny’s scowl deepened. “You can neither confirm nor deny? What kind of answer is— oh.” She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Gods, fine. Thaumaturgy gives way to technology— in the pursuit of power. Is that it? Is that the stupid thing I’m supposed to say?”

"Excelsior. Superbly said, Miss Arkayd,” he said, taking her hand and gently shaking it. “Or should I call you Penelope? I understand humans of your social echelon often prefer more informal addresses. First-name basis it’s called?"

"Penelope?” Minkus quickly asked, looking up at Penny. “But your name is—"

"Not now," she huffed. Her attention remained on the new asura. “You’re Wepp, then?”

“Indeed I am,” he said almost pleasantly. His tone changed as he looked toward Minkus, though. “And who is your associate? I had presumed you would come alone.”

“Never mind him. It’s you and me who have business,” Penny said. An accusatory finger shot out. “You have a hell of a lot of nerve locking me out of my shop, little man. After everything I—” Penny halted, glancing at Minkus from the corner of her eye. She seemed to change her approach. “Just— you have a hell of a lot of nerve, and I want my damn shop back.”

“Yes,” Wepp admitted sheepishly. “As I said in my missive— you did receive that, I assume?”

“Yeah I got your note. How the hell else would I be here?”

Wepp nodded approvingly. “A fine point, yes a very fine point. As I said in my missive, I find it regrettable that we had to treat you in this manner. But you do know Sk—” Looking quickly at Minkus, he cut himself short. ”Rather, our friend is inclined toward distrust, to say the least. I often tell him it’s no way to exist, but he seldom—”

“Drop the smalltalk,” Penny broke in, stepping closer to loom over him. “I did what you asked, and now I just want my damn shop.”

Minkus momentarily lost track of the conversation. Rats. He’d heard his friend use that term more than once in the last couple of days, and as he scratched his own large ear in thought, the reason suddenly struck him.

“Rats?” he asked, interrupting the discussion. “Penny, are you calling asura rats?” Both the human and the other asura fell silent for a moment, shifting their attention to him.

“Minkus,” she groaned. “Not the time.” There was a strained attempt at softness in her voice, but she snapped right back to Wepp before anything further could be said. “You sure as Torment better hold up your end of this thing.”

“Yes, indeed,” Wepp said with a nod. “You would like your place of business returned to your control. I sympathize with your sentiment and am prepared to acquiesce.” The hand he held behind him slid out into view, and in it was a crisp sheet of legal-quality vellum that he extended to her. If you would, please just sign here at the bottom of this accord. We can be in business, and we both can be about our previous endeavors.”

"Gods." Rolling her eyes, Penny snatched the sheet out of the asura’s hand and began to read. He handed her an inked quill as well.

At no point did the disgusted scowl leave Penny’s face as she read, but her eyes sped down the handwritten contract, taking it in line by line as her head seemed to bob to the rhythm of her reading. Suddenly she stopped, and her eyes widened. Minkus’ skin tingled as the woman moved the sheet and glared at Wepp. "What in Grenth’s Domain is this?" she demanded, turning the page toward him and pointing at something.

"Why, that's our contract,” Wepp said matter-of-factly. “In appreciation of your assistance, we are putting this ramshackle establishment back into your care in a way that is beneficial for all parties involved. I myself am quite proud of what we were able to—"

"Beneficial for all parties?” she barked. “You already got your benefits, so I ask again, what kind of shit is this?”

Minkus looked around to see if the neighbors were also witnessing the dispute. So far the three of them were the only parties involved.

Wepp stammered a little, but he continued politely. “It’s the only amenable arrangement we can provide for both you and our employ—”

“This isn’t what Skixx and I agreed to.”

“Skixx?” Minkus asked. None of this exchange made sense to him, but that name made the least sense of all.

Penny stopped only a moment to glance at him before snapping back to Wepp again. “I just threw away at least year of paydays to earn this. I'm not paying you a damn thing. This is my shop by rights.”

Minkus stepped in closer toward her, uncomfortable with the rising tensions. "Penny, what’s going on?"

"This little dolyak turd,” she replied, still pointing at her new landlord, “he wants me to pay him seasonal rent to use my own damn shop."

"Actually, it's a lease,” Wepp corrected, nervously twisting the end of his sleeve around a finger, though he still spoke as though he were merely providing information. “With each passing season you'd be paying down your remaining debt— to our employer, not to me. Our mutual friend and I hold no personal interest in this arrangement. In all practical ways, the location would be yours to do with as you please today, and eventually it would in fact be your true and legal possession as well. If I do say so, it is a much better arrangement than you previously held with that Maurice. Honestly, that man would have charged you rent until Alchemy’s end if he'd been able." Wepp finished speaking and the group fell silent once more.

Penny stared with wide eyes, Minkus glanced back and forth between the two, and Wepp eyed the ground as his hands slid into the pockets at the hips of his coveralls. Slowly his gaze rose to once more meet Penny’s. He barely stood above her belt.

“I apologize for your misconstrual of the situation,” he said, “but this all I am permitted to—“

Dropping the sheet, the woman lunged with open hands. "Why you little—"

"Penny, no!" Minkus grabbed her by the leg.

"I'm not signing this, Minkus,” she growled, tugging him a step toward Wepp. She turned back to the asura. “You hear me, rat? I'm not signing this!"

Though already out of her reach, Wepp hopped back farther. "Again, I apologize for any misrepresentations, Penelope, but this is the only arrangement I'm authorized to offer. If you don't accept this, we have no further alternatives. You will lose everything, and I sincerely would not want to see that. By Krytan law, we technically hold ownership over the structure and everything inside it. Without proper documentation between you and our employers, we hold every right to—"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Penny barked, still trying to claw her way out of Minkus’ grasp. “Where is that little asshat partner of yours? He owes me! You owe me."

Minkus looked around again. He saw a few sets of eyes peering at them from behind neighboring windows as he held his friend in place now. “Penny, I think it might be best if we—”

Wepp must have understood where Minkus was going, because he finished the thought. “Yes, yes, your friend is correct. You must calm down, Penelope. I truly do not wish to summon the local authorities and have you removed from the premises, but I will.”

Minkus’ eyes widened, and he braced himself for Penny’s redoubled fight. That was not a sentiment that would calm down his friend. Or, at least, it shouldn’t have.

With a deep breath, though, Penny fell still, letting her flailing arms drop to her sides and releasing the tension in her posture. Minkus felt her stop pulling forward, and he cautiously let her go. She righted herself and straightened her shirt.

“Penny, are you—”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She was quiet and still, but there was a strange light in her eye that he’d seen a hundred times, from her and from every asura he’d ever known. The woman had an idea, and Minkus wasn’t sure it would be a good one.

Penny turned back to Wepp. “Fine,” She said calmly, though through gritted teeth. “You win. The only thing that could make this worse would be a bunch of silver crows showing up. I’m not spending a night in a cell for this load of crap. But you hear me: we’re not done. This is my shop, and no little, big-eared cons are taking it away from me. You got that? You and me, we’re not done.”

“If that’s a threat,” Wepp tisked, “I would encourage you to rethink your strategy. Crossing me may be viable, but crossing my employer is inadvisable.”

Minkus tried to make eye contact with Penny, but it was hard to get himself into her ever-so-focused line of sight. “Penny? I think you should think about this before saying any more.” He turned to Wepp, speaking as the thoughts disjointedly came to him. “Could we— um, could we take that paper, that contract— could we take it with us?”

Wepp squinted curiously at Minkus but also nodded his approval. “Yes, you may keep it, should Penelope change her current mind.”

“Excelsior,” Minkus said with a relieved sigh. He looked back at Penny, who still clearly gritted her teeth behind closed lips. “We will,” Minkus said, fumbling for the words, “well, we’ll let you go now.”

“I would certainly encourage you to listen to your associate here. He—” Penny’s resumed glare silenced Wepp quickly. Eyes wide, he shook his head. “Very well. If you do—reassess your decision, I mean—simply slide the signed contract beneath the door. I will revisit every few days to see if you’ve altered your stance. The offer still remains on the table, but it won’t forever. My employers are rather impatient.”

Wepp paused, seeming to wait for some manner of response. Receiving none, though, he nodded, thanked Penny for her time, and stepped past them to walk up the road toward the upper city.

The two watched him go, and though Minkus expected to have to hold Penny back, he didn’t. She stood perfectly still behind him, staring up the road at the diminishing figure until he was far off, into the upper city, and out of sight.

The two stood silently for several minutes, Minkus considering the situation. But, as he remembered Wepp and their interaction with him, something else stood out, nagging at him. There had been something familiar about that asura. Minkus was nearly certain they’d never met before, but there was something about him.

Then all at once it hit him. “The gate technician,” he said. “That’s it. Wepp was the gate technician I saw in Rurikton. I knew he looked familiar.”

“Sure, that’s great,” Penny replied emptily.

Content with his realization, Minkus turned, only to find Penny cautiously slipping toward the shop’s front door. 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Penny was already several steps away and ripping a strip of cloth off the bottom of her shirt.

“Penny? What are you—”

Before the final word had found his lips, the woman had wrapped the cloth tightly around her fist and smashed it through one of the glass panes in the shop’s front door.

“Penny!” Minkus yelped, spinning to look in all directions for witnesses. “You can’t— you can’t just—”

“I just did. Now stay there.” She groped blindly at the lock on the other side and cracked the door open. The mechanical bird inside the shop sang as Penny slid into the relative darkness inside.

Minkus stood in the road, blinking. Alternately, he looked up after Wepp, up and down the street at the neighboring stores and homes, and into the darkness within the shop. He had no idea what to do.