Millennial Mage

Tala left the Constructionist Guild feeling conflicted. Jevin had helped her, but he was…odd. All the older Mages I’ve met are odd, though…

She would be meeting up with him the following day to meld Flow with the glaive, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to see him after that. Being able to train myself against a Paragon, though… The level of control and resistance he could offer would be unlike most others she could work with.

An old proverb came to mind: ‘When training the sword, find a master.’ Though, in truth, she’d heard “the sword” replaced with all sorts of things. More a format, than a true saying, I suppose.

Tala decided to walk down the spiral to let herself have some time to contemplate. I can climb up a pedestrian tube when I’m to the south. I’ll avoid the market that way, too.

The trip down the 6 o’clock spiral was uneventful, and she found the ‘Up’ pedestrian ladder without issue. A short climb brought her to 12 o’clock, south and a Culinary Guild office.

She squared her shoulders, put a smile on her face, and strode in.

The brush of magic moved over her as she entered, and a chime sounded from within the space. If Tala had to put an emotion to the sound, it would be one of cautious alarm.

An attendant immediately bustled out from a side room to intercept her. “Mistress? Did a courier miss a delivery or payment?”

Tala frowned at the man. “No? I just had some questions for a guild official.”

“Apologies, but Mages are not permitted within Culinary facilities unless specifically invited or seeking restitution. If no delivery or payment has been missed. I must, respectfully, ask you to leave. We will gladly accept any inquiry via courier.”

Tala was almost stunned into inaction, but she had slightly expected something like this. Instead of responding, she pulled out her iron medallion. The coin bore the deeply inset relief of a scythe.

It had been given to her by Brand in order to identify her as ‘in the know.’ And as an apology for attempting to stab me in the heart…

“I would really like to speak to someone of authority.”

The assistant hesitantly took the coin, examining it closely. “Where…” he swallowed involuntarily, his voice barely above a whisper, “where did you get this?”

“From the head chef on a caravan venture. It was voluntarily given and gratefully received.”

He gave her a long look, then nodded. “I will…I will see if the branch head can see you.”

Tala gave a partial bow in thanks, but he was already gone.

Well, I’m in it now.

There were several notable sounds from the back rooms, and Tala tried not to overhear. It wasn’t hard, given the number of walls between her and the raised voices. She likely couldn’t have heard details even if she’d tried.

A moment later, an older man strode out into the entry hall. He wore expensive clothes and clearly was a figure of importance, here.

The assistant hung back, walking behind and to his boss’s left.

Tala opened her mouth to greet the man, but he cut across her.

“I’m not sure what your game is here, Mistress.” He flicked the medallion her way.

Tala caught it from the air, examining it for a moment to ensure it was the same one. At least of the same kind.

“The Inter-Guild accords are clear, and you haven’t been invited.”

“Then, I am requesting an invitation.”

“Request denied.”

Tala gave the man a flat look. “May I at least have the name of my denier? I am called Tala.”

He hesitated, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth refusing. “I am Wannor. I do not wish to be rude, Mistress, but you are treading near many violations. You must leave if requested to do so. We have.”

“Then, invite me to stay. The problem will be solved.”

He glowered. “I will not.”

Tala let out an irritated breath. “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

“No.”

Are you rusting serious? “Or where I got the medallion?”

“No.”

Fine then; let’s poke the bear. “Or how much arcanous meat I’ve eaten?”

Wannor hesitated. “Why would I want to know that?”

Tala held up the coin. “Because of this!”

“No… I’m genuinely curious. Why the rust would I care how much you eat?”

Tala opened her mouth, then paused. Well… that probably doesn’t really factor in…does it? “Fine. That wasn’t really the point.”

Wannor’s features scrunched in irritation. “I don’t know what you know. I don’t really want to. I have six caravans leaving in the next three days, and I need to finalize the manifests and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m not going to justify myself to you.” He locked gazes with her. “Please, go… whatever it is you’re here for, do it somewhere else.”

Tala opened her mouth to argue further, but finally just shook her head. “Fine.”

Wannor smiled.

“I’ll leave.” She didn’t turn. Maybe I’m being a bit mean…

His smile slipped just slightly, but he made a visible effort to maintain it.

“I’m departing.” She hadn’t moved. Still, he’s been very rude.

He lost the struggle, and his expression became blank once more.

“I’ll go…just as soon as I know where I should go to. Where can I talk with someone from this Guild?”

Wannor’s eye began to twitch.

Tala stood there, smiling.

He grimaced, then sighed. “Fine. Go to the Guild reception on the fifth floor. They’ll have more time for your foolishness.” Without another word, or backward glance, he turned and strode from the room.

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” She shook her head. “Have a good day!”

She didn’t listen too closely to his response, but if she interpreted the tone correctly, it was filled with imaginative curses.

She had just left the building, and started walking away and upward, when an imposing figure stepped out after her.

She glanced back, taking in the man’s appearance. He might be taller than Rane.

He towered over her. His hair was a smooth black, and he had a beard that almost caused her jaw to drop. It went down nearly to the man’s waist, and it was skillfully braided in complex patterns, taming the otherwise voluminous locks.

His clothes were simple, but clean, and he had an apron over one shoulder. “Mistress Tala, was it?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Sarenor, a cook with the Culinary Guild, and I’m heading up to the fifth tier. Would you like company for the trip?”

Tala gave him an odd look. “Why?”

He just grinned. “Oh, Wannor is a grumpy sort. I caught a glimpse of the medallion. Please, don’t let him sour you on our Guild. He’s up to his armpits in paperwork. Still, his advice to go to the fifth tier is good. Shall we?” He motioned.

Tala began walking, and he fell into step beside her.

“So, what did you want from us, anyway?”

She shrugged. “I’ve had good relations with several of your head chefs, and I have some food needs, so I figured I’d go to the source.”

“Food needs?”

She smiled a bit self-consciously. “I need to eat. A lot.”

“Like: ‘I’m one of the guys; see? I eat so much!’ or is this more of a requirement for your magic?”

She chuckled. “Requirement is probably too strong of a word, but that is the more accurate of the two.”

“Good to know. So?”

Well, I’d ask Brand if he were here, or Amnin if I knew where she was. There’s nothing really secret about it. She quickly outlined what she was hoping. She wanted a large amount of food that would keep well, and easily be made edible and palatable.

“Oh, yeah! We do that sort of thing all the time.”

“You do?”

He gave her an odd look. “Of course. The city has scouting parties that keep tabs on the forest around Makinaven, and they need to eat. The higher-level Mages within the city often go on missions for weeks at a time without peripheral support.” He was nodding. “Yeah, you just want solo-venturing food.”

“That sounds exactly right.”

He grinned. “Glad to help! Yeah, we can get you some. I assume you have a storage device?”

They chatted about what tools she had already that would allow her to prepare, carry, and maintain the food. He outlined some suggestions on equipment for her to acquire so that she could improve what she would be able to eat.

They then moved on to talking about the various options she could select from. As it turned out, Sarenor was one of those who prepared food for the caravans, and the secondary role for his team was to make up this solo-venturing food.

When she learned that, Tala was instantly suspicious, but that lessened as she learned more about the Culinary Guild, in general.

Those who worked in the guild offices were either bureaucrats or members of teams like Sarenor’s. The other members of the guild didn’t have much occasion to come to the offices. Even those who worked the caravans only sent a representative with their reports, manifests, and other required pre- or post-trip paperwork.

I suppose I never really considered how such guilds would work.

They came to a comfortable pause in the conversation around the time they entered the fourth tier, still climbing.

Tala kept glancing towards the man, still feeling a bit odd about the whole thing. He wasn’t breathing hard, as she expected for someone who lived here, often traversing the tiers.

Finally, she asked what had been bugging her. “Wouldn’t your beard interfere with your cooking?”

Sarenor grinned back at her, stroking his beard proudly. “Oh, so you noticed this?”

Tala gave him a flat look, and he laughed.

“Fair enough. In truth, it would be quite the issue, if I didn’t have a nephew in the Constructionist Guild.” He hesitated. “Well, I suppose I’m his nephew?” He shook his head. “Maybe great-nephew. The lad barely looks thirty, and I’m pushing fifty. It’s just less confusing to modify familiar terms, right?”

She shrugged.

“But you asked about the beard.” Sarenor pulled out what looked like a cloth mask, but Tala’s mage-sight told her it was so much more.

With a clearly carefully-practiced motion, the cook somehow scooped the entirety of his beard into the mask before fixing it in place. The cloth didn’t bulge at all, but still seemed to rest naturally against his face as if he were clean shaven. Not a single stray hair showed as evidence of the glory beneath.

“A dimensional…mask?”

“Yup! Somehow it’s designed to only allow hair into the expanded space. That actually makes it more efficient, or so he tells me.” Sarenor shrugged. “I’ve been able to keep my beard, and he gets to test out new theories.”

The mask came off, almost comically allowing an explosion of well contained facial hair.

That seems like such a contradiction, but it’s the only description that makes sense…

They chatted about small things, mainly the variations to regional dishes, along with how the caravan’s cooks chose the dishes to be served.

It turned out that the cooks in the caravans had almost universal discretion in what they served. It was a prestigious position but also a dangerous one. Due to both of those factors, it was high paying as well.

“I prefer practicing my craft by day and returning home each night.”

Tala just smiled. She knew that it would be polite to inquire about his family, including if there was one, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Too many things were reminding her of family already.

Oh, Tala. You really need to sort yourself out… She’d been fine asking others about family. Yeah, but I hadn’t been working through so much death, then.

She shook her head and turned the topic to various spices and herbs.

It turned out that many of the regional differences to various dishes were directly linked to the availability of core spices that were required to bring out different flavors. That made sense, and if Tala had any notion of relative spice prices, she could have easily realized that connection on her own, but she’d never done any sort of investigation.

Maybe this is why Mistress Odera hasn’t found a good version of our lunch food in Bandfast? The requisite spices to do the dishes justice aren’t available for reasonable prices.

Probably worth asking. In all likelihood, the Mage would already know, one way or another.

When they arrived at the fifth tier Culinary Guild office, Tala was again asked to leave by the assistant.

Sarenor rolled his eyes at the assistant, but simply bid Tala farewell and went into the back.

Tala presented her coin once more, and the assistant scurried off to get someone with more authority.

Ten minutes later, Tala was enjoying afternoon coffee with thrice-baked cake to dip into the beverage. I could get used to all these in-between meals.

The coffee was strong, almost as strong as the espresso she’d so recently purchased, but it was cut with cream and sugar. It was a wonderful counterpoint to the dipping-cake, which actually wasn’t very sweet.

A woman strode in without introduction and sat across from Tala. She was immaculately dressed, though Tala’s enhanced vision could pick up the pressure lines from a recently removed apron.

She seemed to be an austere woman, holding her features under careful control. Her hair was gray and held up in a tight bun. That lent greater weight to the grandmotherly air about her. “So, Mistress Tala. Tell me what the Culinary Guild can do for you?”

Tala set her thrice-baked cake on the small, provided plate, swallowing her latest bite. “Well, aside from some solo-venturing food, I actually wanted to ask you: What can I do for the Culinary Guild?”

The woman blinked at her, seeming stunned. She tilted her head to one side, considering. “I apologize, Mistress. I am Atrela. I am the currently elected Head of the Makinaven Culinary Guild. I preside over the branch heads of every branch office within this city.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Head Atrela.”

“Just Atrela will be fine, Mistress.”

“Then, Tala, please.”

“As you wish, Mistress Tala.”

Tala felt her eye twitch but didn’t press the issue. “So?”

“Honestly, I am unsure how to reply. To speak with you, directly, violates our Guild charter, but since you bear a medallion, to turn you away would similarly breach procedure.”

“I apologize for putting you in such a difficult position. Will there be repercussions?”

“Honestly? Probably not. But if someone decides to make a play at replacing me, they could try to get me removed. That was assured as soon as you showed up.”

Tala frowned. “Wannor, down on the third tier, sent me up here. Would that factor in?”

Atrela sighed. “It just might. Thank you for that warning. You said he sent you? Did he meet with you personally to do so?”

“He did.”

Atrela nodded thoughtfully but didn’t comment.

“So… I am aware that the Order of the Harvest has a very poor history with Mages, and I assume that the Culinary Guild is the public face of that order?”

“Quite correct.”

Honest of her. “If I may ask…why haven’t you approached more Mages through the years? You are a powerful guild, after all.”

Atrela’s mouth quirked into a small smile. “We have, Mistress. Every ten to twenty years, we ask for an unaffiliated volunteer to present our ideas to the local Archon counsel, or the Constructionist Guild, or some individual Mage or Archon. The response is always the same: ‘That is not for you to pursue. Drop it, immediately.’ ”

Tala frowned. That didn’t seem right… “What if I were to take and present it?”

The woman leaned back, considering. After a long moment, she poured herself some coffee and took a careful sip. “That would certainly be different.”

“I am unaffiliated. I’d meet that requirement.”

Atrela let out a short, soft chuckle. “True enough. I cannot authorize this, however, not on my authority alone. I can propose it to the Guild counsel. Would you be willing to keep the Guild and the Order out of it?”

“Yes? I don’t want to lie, but I can obfuscate.”

“That is acceptable, so long as you are willing to refuse to answer about certain things.”

“I’m open to that.”

Atrela nodded. “That could work. We’ve never worked directly with a Mage before.” She hesitated. “Well, not openly and not on this side of things.”

Tala frowned. “I find that very unlikely.”

“Oh?” The other woman seemed genuinely confused.

“Has no member of the Order ever had a child who grew up to become a Mage?”

“Of course, we have. One of my sons, and three of my aunts are Mages.”

“So?”

“We are barred from discussing it with them, or anyone who is not of the Order. We don’t admit any minors to the Order, so none ever become Mages after admittance.”

“That seems foolish.”

Atrela gave Tala a pointed look. “If I told you that we were studying and enacting necromancy within this building, and you believed me, what would you do?”

“That’s hardly-”

Atrela cut across Tala. “What would you do, Mistress?”

Tala paused to consider. Academy doctrine was to kill them all, then hunt down anyone they had ties to and kill them as well.

If she did that, she’d probably be rewarded. No, a law-abiding Mage should report it to the local council and then return with reinforcements, so that no one could escape. But that didn’t answer the question. What would she do?

Tala frowned. Necromancy. The animating of dead flesh. That portion was a bit gross, but hardly that immoral. Disrespectful, though. Even so, it wasn’t actually outlawed. Working with the souls of the dead, however, that was utterly forbidden. Does that include founts?

Tala hadn’t actually considered that association. Could every arcanous beast be considered the product of necromancy?

That had disturbing implications.

She glanced to Terry, who was clearly listening with interest, despite his closed eyes.

So, what would I do? “I would clarify what type of necromancy you meant.”

“Mistress Tala. You know what-”

Tala held up her hand. “I wasn’t finished. I do see your point, Atrela. If it was the forbidden kind, if I even suspected the forbidden form, I would burn this place to the ground.” She hesitated, looking around at the wood and considering the tree around them. “Well, not literally. That would probably end badly.”

Atrela quirked a smile. “Precisely. Mages do not respond gently to those pursuing forbidden knowledge or practices.”

There’s good reason…for most of it anyways. “And you feel that you’ve been told the consumption of harvests falls into that category.”

“From the best of our understanding, it does.”

But it doesn’t! At least she didn’t think it did. Am I willing to risk thousands of people’s lives on my assumption? After thinking for a long moment, she realized that she wasn’t. “Very well. I will bow to whatever the Culinary Guild decides. I don’t like it, but I won’t pull back the curtain from your Order without permission.”

Atrela visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Mistress. I hope that we don’t put you in any awkward positions because of this.”

Tala shook her head. “I’m already seen as a bit of an oddball. I doubt I’ll be pressed too closely about anything I ask or attempt.”

Atrela gave her a skeptical look but didn’t comment on that. “Very well. So, you mentioned venture supplies?”

“Yes. I would like food and equipment to carry in my dimensional storage, so that I can always have food ready at hand.”

They briefly discussed Tala’s available resources, and the conversation actually went quite quickly, given it was a mirror of the one she’d had with Sarenor on the walk up.

“I think I can put together some things for you. What is your budget?”

“It depends a bit on how much food you can get me, but a gold or two?”

“That is… considerable for such things.”

“I eat a lot of food.”

“So you’ve said.” Atrela was smiling. “Very well. I will see it done. Would you be willing to return in three days to discuss your offer and pick up your food?”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“No, Mistress Tala. Thank you. I cannot express the stress I feel in the presence of any Mage. Even your offer to potentially alleviate that is valuable beyond what I can express.”

Tala gave a seated bow. “I am glad to be able to help.”