From Sleuth to Saviour

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Six: Storms

From Sleuth to Saviour

* * *

There was considerably more discussion with the pixie archivist Onyx.

I learned the Tribes of the Fæ were very worried, something that worried me. I also learned a couple of things that set my twisted mind to thinking. A devious scheme was forming. I decided to keep my ruminations to myself for now.

I had had no idea how deep the history of the First Peoples was. The revelations of their origins were something I’d likely have to keep secret until death. I was tempted to blab to Abram which, considering my career had flourished based on my ability to keep my piehole shut, was saying a lot. Perhaps, when we were both old and retired, I’d tell him over a few drinks. It should no longer matter then. Meantime, I had work to do.

With all the information I digested in that conversation, I missed an obvious implication that, had I had it at the time, would likely have sent me running for a place to hide. The horror I ended up enduring will likely haunt me to my last days. In retrospect, Onyx obviously had made that connection, for his expression changed at one point to something resembling pity. I would later kick myself for not asking what it meant.

Anyway.

Following the interview, and at the elder pixie’s instructions, I headed for a pub near the wall of the Mages Quarter bordering the Plaza of Dying Suns to find a Faerie Door back to the Mother Lodge. The sky was ochre balls with jagged streaks of pale yellow by the time I ducked into the bar, twenty minutes after leaving the house. Onyx’s directions had been excellent.

I sighed with relief after finding myself in a cool, blue hallway in a minor part of Azhure’en. By ‘chance,’ (yeah, right) three Hermetists were just down the hall and saw me as I oozed out of the trumpet of tangerine sparks.

The most senior, a broadly built female approached me, “Who are you? Where did you come from?” She didn’t sound pissed off, but her tone suggested it was an option.

I held out my hand to be shaken. “Harry Tranker, friend of Abram Hermit. I’ve come with urgent information for my friend. Could you tell me where he is?”

She declined to return the handshake. The other two, both males and, judging by the colours of their clothing—mostly black—junior to her, flanked their senior. None of them looked at all happy to see me.

“Answer my question. Where did you come from?”

I saw no reason not to answer. “Glyph.”

She sighed, relaxing slightly. “It would have to be,” half to herself.

One of the males, “A new Portal?”

The other, “Or an old one we never found.”

“Ten-to-One it’s a new Faerie Door.” The contempt in his voice was obvious.

“Doesn’t matter, now,” female. To me, “If I got you a map, could you identify the place where that Portal was?”

“Yes, but my business with Abram is much more urgent than rogue Portals.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Will you come with us, please?”

It was phrased as a request, but it obviously wasn’t.

It took forever to get where we were going.

I’d seen large structures in my time, but I had no words to describe this size of that place. Templar built, so the story went, and I had no trouble believing it. In truth, I had trouble believing it was real, even as I walked its mammoth halls. A hollowed-out mountain of stone. Ceilings so high, parts of them were obscured by clouds. I would never again feel as insignificant as I did while wandering that place. I could not imagine how it had been built. Knowing nothing else about Poseidon’s Children, this alone would have convinced me that they had been virtually gods. The thought of a recrudescence of powers capable of this scale of creation lent further urgency to my mission.

Something was here with us. I kept seeing flashes of white light, flitting about like a moth. I made me vaguely uneasy. I considered asking what it was, but my apprehension about the answer outweighed my curiosity.

Finally, we arrived in a relatively small room. It was only twenty yards on a side and a mere two hundred high. The top third of one wall was stained glass. In the dark light of Mercurius, these were near black, obscuring what seemed, from my steep angle, disturbing designs. I’d need to be much higher in the room to get a good look at them. I wondered why the Templars had bothered with them at all. Light from a source I couldn’t identify illuminated a small table and a half-dozen chairs dwarfed by the size of the room.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Tranker,” she gestured to a chair.

I sat at one end of the oblong table. The trio clustered at the other. It felt like I was on trial; a deliberate impression, I felt sure.

“Tell us your news.”

I did. I told them what only the Mercurius should have known but didn’t; that the original Templars had been mortals bonded to fæ, that Poseidon was himself a fæ, and of the motive of the Sea God in making these little gods.

They had many questions, mostly about my sources and their veracity. In over an hour of questioning, they squeezed me dry.

My turn. “Where is Abram? He needs to know this.”

“The Mercurius is currently in camera engaged in the fight against the Sea God.”

Abram was the Mercurius, now? “Where?”

“That information is not for you.”

“That must mean he’s in the Evanescents.” I was so very wrong about this, but none in that room knew it at the time.

I had the satisfaction of seeing shock on all three faces.

“I’m a private eye. It’s my business to know what others want to keep secret. You need to get me there.”

“We can easily convey your information to him.”               

“You cannot offer the assistance he needs from me.”

I saw at hint of hesitation, a small crack of uncertainty. I decided to crowbar it a lot wider. “No one’s in charge here, are they? Things are moving that have no precedent. You have the burden of making decisions regarding events neither the Mercurius nor the Elects have ever had to face. There is no point in following the rules, now. History hangs in the balance. I know more about what’s going on than any Hermetist does. Trust me. I need to be where the fight is. Help me get there.”

In the end, they relented, after getting from me all the details concerning the Faerie Door I’d used, of course.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, October 2026

© Gideon Jagged
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