Chapter 16. Wasted Potential

  Jeremiah put the finishing touches on his latest enchantment diagram. It was a touch inelegant, but it was a fine proof of concept for now. He scooped up Gus. “Now comes the hard part, buddy.”

  He inspected the plate again, flattened out his shirt, and made the two step journey from his bedroom to the adjacent one. He gave the door two quick knocks and tucked the plate behind his back, trying to quell panic creeping up on him.

  Delilah cracked the door just enough to see him. “Hey, Jay. What’s up?”

  “Hi Delilah, I…umm.” What had he meant to say? “I guess, I sort of…have a present for you?”

  Delilah’s polite expression turned to one of concern. “A gift? For me?” She retreated even further behind the door, so only half her face was visible.

  Jeremiah realized he was making a mistake. This was weird. He was clearly making her uncomfortable. And worse still…“Okay, well, it’s not exactly perfect yet, but I wanted to let you know I was working on it and maybe get an idea of if it’s something you’d actually want so I don’t keep working on it if you don’t think it’d be useful.”

  In what Jeremiah could only describe as an act of intentional cruelty, Delilah just stared at him. He revealed the plate from behind his back.“This is an enchantment plate.”

  More silence. Gods, why did he sound so stupid?

  “Um, I mean, this is an enchantment plate that makes heat. I thought maybe it’d be useful in your lab work. Or for cooking. Or whatever else.”

  “That’s very thoughtful Jay. Thank you.” Delilah tried to take the plate from Jeremiah, but he didn’t let go.

  “I actually can’t actually give it to you yet. It still overheats and breaks the enchantment. I’ve got to figure out how to make it only heat up to a certain point, I just wanted to show you what I’ve got so far.”

  “Oh. Well, it looks very nice,” said Delilah. She offered him a pleasant smile.

  “Once I fix it, it’ll always output that amount,” said Jeremiah. He was starting to ramble, but he couldn’t help it. “It’ll just stay hot and you can use it to boil water and stuff without making a fire.”

  “Huh,” said Delilah. “Go on.”

  “I—that’s it,” said Jeremiah.

  “How long does it last? Like, a day? A week?”

  “Ha! No, no, no, much longer.” He forgot sometimes his friends didn’t know even the basics of enchanting. Delilah was still gripping the plate. He tried to tug it back from her, but she held fast.

  “How much longer?” Suddenly Delilah’s focus and all its probing intensity shifted onto Jeremiah. She didn’t look pleased or polite anymore. She looked angry.

  “I-I don’t know for sure?” said Jeremiah. “I’ll need to figure that out. A good few years at least. It’s a pretty simple enchantment.”

  Delilah glared at him long enough to make him profoundly uncomfortable. “Years. You estimate this would stay hot enough to boil water for years.”

  “Sure, maybe a decade. But probably close to twenty years if I tune it right.”

  Delilah closed her eyes. “You stupid, stupid boy.”

  Of all the reactions Jeremiah had imagined to his gift, this one hadn’t featured. “Excuse me?”

  Delilah’s eyes snapped open. “I am so mad at you right now for just handing me this.”

  It was Jeremiah’s turn to stare at her in stunned silence.

  “Come on, Jay, think for a minute! Heat! Heat without fuel! For decades! You’re supposed to be smarter than this!”

  “Yes, I know it’d be useful, that’s why I’m trying to make you one.”

  “Make me one ? You should be trying to make hundreds. Thousands! One for every household in the world!”

  At that, Jeremiah had to laugh. “That’s impossible. Enchanting is a very labor intensive process, and—”

  “Do you even know what the labor is? This is lines cut into a flat metal plate! The industrial applications alone w ould—”

  Suddenly Delilah’s face broke into a saccharine smile. “Oh Jay, this is such a thoughtful gift. Thank you!”

  She pulled him into an iron-gripped hug. “Now, you listen to me,” she growled in his ear, a not entirely unpleasant sensation, “You’re going to continue working on this. You’re not going to talk about it. With anyone . Do you understand? Not Thurok, not Flusoh, not Allison, not me, not anyone. Do you understand ?”

  Jeremiah nodded, confused and terrified.

  “When you get this working, you are going to knock on my door. It doesn’t matter where we are or what time it is. If I’m not home, you’re to sit quietly in your room until I return. You will tell me, ‘It’s lovely weather for a stroll’, and then we will go for a walk to the patent office. Do you understand?”

  Jeremiah nodded again. Pinned in a prolonged hug with Delilah was not the worst place to be.

  “Good," she hissed, then returned to a normal speaking voice. "Thanks again, that was very sweet of you! Too bad it doesn't work. I have to get back to work though, I'm trying to get certified as a defense counselor. Bye, Jay!"

  She shoved the plate back towards Jeremiah and slammed the door. Gus was holding very still in his pocket. “Don’t worry, buddy,” Jeremiah said. “I think it’s okay we don’t know what just happened.”

  Three weeks after Bruno’s departure, Allison was still in a foul mood, stomping around and snapping at innocuous questions. Jeremiah and Delilah hid in their respective bedrooms to keep as much distance between them and Allison as possible, but her anxiety seemed to bleed through the walls, made worse by her insistence that she was fine.

  Jeremiah appreciated the chance to focus on his enchanting, but the expectation to hide indoors for an indefinite amount of time brought him right back to being under house arrest after his trial. It didn’t help that being outside in Elminia was dreadful in its own way. Having grown up in a tiny village surrounded by pastoral countryside, the city always held a sense of wonder for Jeremiah, but Elminia was like a churning, angry cauldron. He had been cursed at, spit on, and even bitten enough times that any wonder had long since transformed into disgust.

  The nearest market street comprised a cluster of food in piles or bags that occupied the center of the street and were guarded jealously by their purveyors. On one particularly dismal morning, Jeremiah selected the least damaged loaf of bread for their day’s ration, paid a surly dwarf an outrageous price, and let himself be swept up in the press of bodies trudging towards home.

  Jeremiah found the swirling current of heat, noise, and smells more tolerable if he turned off his brain and allowed momentum to determine his path. His mind wandered as bodies surged and jostled around him, always pushing him onwards.

  Until his progress halted. Something poked against his abdomen. Jeremiah’s eyes snapped up to see the tip of a knife pressed against his alchemically-reinforced robes. It’s wielder was a human man standing stock still directly in front of Jeremiah, sweating profusely, with eyes half-lidded in an expression of bliss.

  The man hissed with excitement as Jeremiah was bumped from behind, pushing him harder against the knife. Jeremiah tried to step aside, but there was nowhere to go. Someone cursed at him and shoved him hard, and the knife tip sliced through his robes and into his skin.

  Jeremiah planted his feet and spun with force, slamming into several people who made their objections known immediately. The knife slipped off him as he was swept up once again by the stream. The man with the knife disappeared behind him.

  "I hate this place," he said. Gus kicked once in agreement.

  Jeremiah forced his way from the stream to enter their apartment building. As always, he took a moment to enjoy the relief of escaping the dull roar of the crowd. He made his way upstairs, and, juggling the bread and other sundries, fumbled at the entrance to their apartment.

  The door burst open and a dark shape seized Jeremiah. In an instant, he was slammed against a wall, knocking the wind out of him and scattering the groceries across the floor.

  A grotesque and ragged face, eyes bulging with fury, pinned Jeremiah across the chest with a forearm. The face leaned close, its breath reeking of alcohol and neglect. “Who did you fucking tell!”

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Jeremiah shoved at the arm but it held fast. Where were Allison and Delilah? He wrenched his knee upwards and connected with something soft. The face recoiled in pain, and Jeremiah shoved off the wall. He threw a hard elbow towards the face, twisting his body and pushing through from his feet, just like Allison had taught him.

  The face shouted, but recovered before Jeremiah could scramble away. In a flurry of limbs, Jeremiah was thrown face down on the floor, his arm pinned behind him. He began to speak the words that would let him exhale poisonous gas, but a greasy hand clamped over his mouth.

  A crash of breaking glass. Jeremiah twisted and spotted Allison in the doorway, the jagged edge of a freshly broken glass bottle in her hand.

  “Hey there, dead man,” she said. Her anger was cold and soft as fresh snow.

  The weight vanished from Jeremiah’s back. “Wait, wait, wait!” said Bruno’s voice.

  Allison paused, the broken bottle raised to rake his face. “Bruno?”

  Jeremiah stood, rolling his shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “We’re glad to see you, Bruno,” said Delilah. She was standing in the doorway Allison had just vacated, a glass bottle in her hand as well, though hers was intact and filled with an amber liquid.

  “Not thrilled actually,” said Jeremiah.

  “Oh, quit whining, you milk sipping weakling!” Bruno yelled.

  Jeremiah’s simmering anger burst through. “Go back outside if you want to throw a temper tantrum!”

  “You little…” Bruno lunged toward Jeremiah. Jeremiah raised his fists, more than willing to get his ass kicked if it meant he could belt Bruno again.

  He didn’t get the chance. As Bruno closed the distance, Allison’s hand snapped out like a viper and struck him in the throat. Bruno crumpled, clutching his windpipe as he gagged, tongue protruding.

  Allison shot Jeremiah an icy glare. Your turn? Jeremiah held his hands up and stepped backwards. His fury towards Bruno was not worth drawing Allison’s ire.

  Bruno’s face was darkening to a deep crimson as he gasped for breath. Jeremiah’s rage ebbed to concern that his friend was dying, but no one else seemed worried.

  After a time, Allison squatted beside Bruno. “You okay?” she asked. Bruno nodded. “You don’t ever raise a hand against anyone on this team. You know that,” said Allison.

  “S-still in c-character,” wheezed Bruno, “tough to…to…to slip, s-sometimes.”

  “I know,” said Alison. She took Bruno by the arm and helped him to his feet. Bruno leaned on her as she ran a comforting hand over his back.

  Bruno turned towards Jeremiah. The anger and hate that had been there moments ago were gone. “Sorry.”

  “S’alright,” said Jeremiah.

  While Bruno recovered, Jeremiah, Delilah, and Allison gathered up the groceries and set out a breakfast of milk and bread. They gathered around the table, dunking their bread before eating it. For a moment, aside from Bruno’s filthiness and the lump swelling over his left eye, things were as they had always been.

  “That hurt as much as it looked like it did?” Jeremiah asked, pointing at Bruno’s throat.

  “Not as much as that knee and elbow combination you gave me.” He gingerly touched the bruise rising on his brow. “Allison, you should be proud of your boy, he got me good,” said Bruno.

  “I’m always proud of him,” said Allison.

  Jeremiah paid extra close attention to his bread.

  “So, what happened?” asked Delilah.

  Bruno sighed heavily over his meal. “I got made.” His voice cracked and for a wild moment, Jeremiah thought he might cry. The anguish on his face extinguished the last ember of anger in Jeremiah’s chest.

  “What does that mean?” asked Jeremiah.

  “It means I’m a known element. They saw me coming, all of them did. Doesn’t much matter the disguise, if they’re looking for you. Some of them even…” he swirled his cup, watching a crumb of bread slowly sink beneath the surface. “Some of them mocked me.”

  Delilah tried to hide a smile. “They mocked you?”

  Bruno slammed his cup down on the table. “You don’t understand! I’m the Shadow of Dock Road Two. I’m both cloak and dagger. I do not make mistakes, I do not get caught, and I do not get made fun of. Especially not by some no-talent pickpocket squad of roustabouts.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” said Allison.

  “Not me. The people who make mistakes in my line or work get buried with them. Besides, this isn’t just from a moment of carelessness. Everyone knows to be on the lookout for me, even in disguise.” Bruno leaned forward, regarding each of them in turn. “Which is why I need to know—did one of you talk about what we’re doing? Or that you knew me? Even in passing?”

  “None of us has spoken with anyone since you’ve left,” said Allison. “We barely left the apartment.”

  “Are you sure?” He absently switched Delilah’s cup with his own, a behavior Jeremiah had come to think of as a nervous habit. “It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

  “How do we know this isn’t because of the Empress?” asked Jeremiah. “Or her spymaster?”

  “Technically it’s possible, but I’m not sure why they’d do it,” said Bruno. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t. It’s actually an even better reason why they would.” Being Bruno sounded tiring. “But I should tell you, something’s going on in this city. Whatever is happening here, it’s happening soon.”

  “How do you know?” asked Delilah.

  Bruno gestured all around them. “You can feel it. The pulse of the city is quickening. There’s fear and desperation in the air. Everyone knows something’s coming, even if they don’t know they know it.”

  There was silence around the table again. No one seemed to know what to say to that proclamation.

  Finally, Jeremiah asked, “So what now? Ditch the black op? Wait a while and try again?”

  “Back to Dramir, back to square one,” said Delilah.

  “No,” said Bruno. “This is still our best bet. I might need to stage my own death, or look for a fall guy, or-”

  “I can do it,” said Allison and Jeremiah at the same time.

  Bruno barked a laugh. “No offense, Al, but you couldn’t stop being a soldier if your life depended on it. You walk like a soldier, talk like a soldier. You even sit like a soldier.” Allison shifted in her seat, then gradually returned to her rigid posture.

  “What about me?” said Delilah.

  “Or me,” said Jeremiah.

  “You got a money voice, Delilah,” Bruno smiled as he spoke, like he was fond of it.

  "What's a money voice?" asked Delilah.

  "Means you talk like a rich girl that’s seen the inside of too many lecture halls. Then became a doctor. And a lawyer.”

  "So it's me?” asked Jeremiah.

  Bruno stared at him. “I don’t remember going crazy, no.”

  “Then what else?” said Jeremiah. “You already said Allison and Delilah can’t, and you obviously can’t. That just leaves

  “I appreciate the offer Jay, “said Bruno with a good natured smile, “I really do. But…you know.”

  Jeremiah set his jaw tight. “Enlighten me.”

  Bruno smirked and started to speak. Then he stopped. He looked Jeremiah up and down. “Hmm.”

  “I won’t allow it,” said Allison. “He has neither the skillset nor the mindset for this. He’d get shivved in an alley.”

  “Al, he’s not the same dough-faced boy we picked up in the woods,” said Bruno. “He needs training, sure, but maybe I can work with him.”

  “You think you can pass Jay off as, what, a thug?” asked Delilah.

  Bruno shook his head emphatically, “No way. I can harden him up, but I can’t take the heart out of him.”

  “I won’t allow it,” Allison said again.

  “I can’t help but notice none of you are talking to me,” said Jeremiah. “Even though this is about me, and I’m right here.”

  The table went quiet. Bruno and Delilah exchanged a glance. Allison only glared at Bruno.

  Jeremiah continued, “Which, I’m guessing, is because you don’t think I can handle this kind of decision.”

  Delilah gave him an apologetic smile. “Jay, it’s not that. It’s—”

  “No, it’s absolutely that!” Days, weeks, months of frustration were spilling forth. “I’m part of this team. I saved all your lives in that tomb, I wiped out a bandit camp for you! How long are you going to keep treating me like a child you need to protect?”

  “You’re not ready for this,” said Allison.

  “Course he’s not,” said Bruno, “but I can try to get him ready. Jay, do you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” said Jeremiah reflexively. It was an act of pure defiance.

  “It’s irrelevant if he wants to!” said Allison. “I. Will not. Allow it.”

  Bruno crossed his arms. “No offense, Al, but you're out of your element here. I've got the expertise, and I say he’s worth a shot. We don’t exactly have a ton of options here. If I can’t get him ready, I won’t send him out. I promise.”

  Jeremiah watched Allison wage war with herself. She scowled, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, stood and paced around the room running her hands through her hair, then whirled back towards them. “Fine."

  "Any other objections?" Bruno asked.

  Jeremiah broke off another hunk of bread. “Nope.”

  "I have reservations, I want that on the record,” said Delilah.

  Bruno nodded. "There is no record, but noted. I'm going to need help though, from both of you. Jay, you're sure you want to do this? It's not going to be pleasant."

  "I can handle it," said Jeremiah.

  “We’ll see." Bruno reached across the table and slid Jeremiah's plate towards himself, the uneaten bread wobbling merrily.

  Jeremiah frowned. “Hey, I'm hungry"

  "Get used to that feeling, boy.” Bruno’s face broke into a humorless grin that chilled Jeremiah to the bone.