A Price Paid Ch. 00 - Prologue

Note: This story takes place shortly after, "A Mage Born."

Note: Story chapter; no sex.

Prologue

Etan Stranix was usually a patient man. Things would happen in their own due time. He was a firm believer in the old saying that the hands of a watched clock never move. They certainly never moved quickly enough to get where one wanted them to be while you waited. Part of why it never consumed him was that there was always something for a man like him to busy himself with, as his business empire, with some legitimate, and most not, spanned the two largest kingdoms in the land. There would be plenty to do if only he could find the will to do it.

But he was consumed with the fact that something that he valued greatly was gone without a trace. He should have kept his wife from leaving that night. He should have kept her home until she understood. That was a mistake, he knew that now. But, at the time, he wanted Dina to see what could happen to people close to her if she refused to see the folly of trying to leave him. He had taken her from her meager existence and given her a life she could only dream of. No, he wasn't of High Court, but he knew that he arguably had more power than any of them.

They lived in the world he created. They pretended to direct it and men like him allowed them the privilege. The furnishings in their homes and the clothes on their backs and the baubles they fawned over and passed on from generation to generation were there because men like him provided them. His businesses managed the jewel miners and the timber men and his ships traversed the seas and rivers to bring those goods here and his businesses employed many craftsmen of all trades to fashion those raw goods into things that they would fawn over and pay top dollar and then some to bring into their lives.

Their vices were no different. Darkness was part of everyone and it had to be entertained. It compelled the soul to feed it. That dark side needed to gamble. That's why it sometimes didn't stop until there was nothing left. That dark side led the lady of the House to come to his other businesses to fuck the young, strapping men he provided because they had long, delicious cocks that were so much better than her husband's. Sometimes it led the husband to the same men because that side of them needed. Sometimes that darkness needed powders and liquids to make them feel good, not bad, or perhaps to just make them feel different.

If he and his kind stopped doing what they did, the world may as well stop spinning. But Dina was like the public faces of many of those people that came to him and lived in the world he provided; she was disgusted by what he did, and the fact that he would do anything to protect what was his, exactly as anyone else would do. But, to her, he was evil and she had to escape him by crawling into the bed of some young, jewelry-making wench.

So, to protect what was his, he arranged to use the wench to send Dina a message. He sent his most practiced messenger, Dex, to her door, not to harm her, really, as killing her might have hardened Dina's resolve against him. But, a few marks of brutality would have shown Dina how much those she cared about could suffer if she didn't put the family unit that was the two of them first. The other mistake, he realized, was not insisting they have children immediately, as that would have given her something to focus on and an added incentive to stay.

Dex delivered his message to the jewelry maker and Etan delivered his message to Dina. What he fully expected to happen, knowing Dex as he did and Dina as he did, was for Dina to see what her willfulness might cost her with the vision of bloody and broken body of the woman she was gallivanting with and that maybe she told herself she loved and loved her to justify her willfulness and the violation of her vows before the Goddess.

That wasn't what happened. And what gnawed at him like a wild animal trying to chew its way out of his body was that he didn't know what happened at all. He could deal with the unexpected, but there was always something to act on. But not here, and not now. He knew nothing and he wasn't used to that. Dex was gone without a trace, and so was his wife and the jewelry-maker.

The latter's home was simply cleared out as though she'd never lived there, and Dex didn't even leave that much of a trace. It wasn't as if he knew anything about the man other than he would perform any task he was asked to, but all of the usual avenues he traveled to contact Dex came to nothing at all. And none of the people in the circles the two of them shared had any inkling as to what happened. It was as if the three of them vanished from the face of the planet.

So he was left pacing the well-furnished without being gaudy office space in his home as he awaited word of the results of his most recent demand that someone find them or at least give him someplace to start in the searching. He saved the ostentation for the living areas, finding the brighter colors, patterns, and more obvious signs of wealth good for distracting or impressing guests, but not particularly conducive to productivity. Dina once described the room as 'quiet' compared to the rest of the house.

Where in the depths are you, woman?

He was still trying to will the answer into his mind when the Master of the House, Kav's usual sharp knock on the door snapped him to. He had no reason to feel anticipation, though he couldn't help but feel some anyway. "Enter."

The door opened smoothly to see the taller Kav step clear after having done so to make way for Wyan, one of his trusted lieutenants, and the one he trusted to find the answers he sought. This would be the fourth such meeting over the past few weeks and, if nothing else, Etan couldn't fault a lack of effort as the reason there was nothing to find. His hair was a little disheveled, and his eyes carried his fatigue. When Etan thought of somewhere to go or someplace to look, Wyan spent hours or days running down every possibility that arose from it.

Even so, he still looked professional and behaved so, and Etan respected that. He decided to cut to the chase. "Nothing?"

"Something."

Etan leaned over his desk, propping himself up on his hands to close the gap between them. "What?"

"Still nothing on your wife and the jewelry maker. Our contacts even as far as Idros still have caught no hint of either of them. But I have found Dex."

Adrenalin began to flow. "You're certain?"

He nodded, but started at a point closer to the beginning. "As you know, I've had a policy of checking clinics and various hospitals all about since, depending, one or more of the three of them might have needed aid somewhere along the way. Searching there yielded nothing with respect to the women, but days ago a vagrant was discovered wandering the streets, mute and seemingly unaware of anything."

"He was forwarded to the asylum on Matche Island. It's only now that they've started reaching out to see if the public has any idea who he might be, so I went to check. It's him. I'm certain."

Etan already suspected the answer to his question and formulated a response. "Is he all right?"

Wyan's subdued excitement over a job done dampened a bit. "No, sir. Not at all. I'm not sure that anyone is, well, in there anymore, much less that he's all right. The whole time I was there he just stared out at nothing." He shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable at the prospect of, for whatever reason, being locked within one's body that way.

Etan's eyes were alight now, his heart racing as he went to the corner of the room to pull his black coat from the hook. Excellent work, Wyan. I appreciate your efforts in this matter," he said, putting his other arm through his coat as Wyan opened the door for them both as they headed down the corridor and out.

"I have a fresh task for you. Go to the bread maker, Bonn, in the Eastern District. Tell him who you represent. Tell him to get a message to one named Mala that I will await him at the harbor."

He was tired from all the running about, but at least now Wyan saw an end to the quest. "Of course, sir."

"He will pretend to not know what you're talking about, but fifty gold pieces will get the message where it needs to be. Kav will give it to you."

"Yes, sir. After that?"

His mood had brightened considerably. He could personally act and react now, rather than wait for nothing in the hopes that it became something. "After that, go to Harken at Void and tell him that he will need to move a great deal of money and do it soon. Once you've done that, you are free to take the rest of the week to yourself. Well done, Wyan. Well done."

After several weeks of sleepless nights, a few days secluded at home and free of a drawn out task not exactly in his job description sounded lovely. "Thank you, Mr. Strannix. Good luck, sir."

"Thank you, Wyan," Strannix answered out of custom, his mind already elsewhere.

He followed his employer to the door, waited for him to depart, just in case there would be any last minute instruction, then, when there were none, he turned to seek out Kav. The sooner he was finished the sooner he could go home, pour himself a drink, and relax with a book, good or bad. That he could simply stop running about was more than enough.

* * *

It took several hours more of waiting for Mala to appear and appear he did. Etan had no doubt that would be the case because he made sure that he was Mala's best paying client, doing so without any information as to how much money that might take because he had no idea of the extent of Mala's business. He just made sure to shower such a man with gold and other perks of having a good relationship with a man like Strannix. Mala gambled for free at his gambling houses and fucked for free at his brothels. Mala, for his part, never overindulged, but it all combined to create little doubt that Mala would be where Etan wanted him and when.

The man himself was powerful in his own right. He was tall, muscled, and imposing when he chose to be. A white beard with close-cropped hair helped advertise his years, his features were still youthful enough. There were few lines in his features and his gray eyes burned with an intensity just as imposing as his body, reflecting a man who seemed to never stop being in thought about several things at once.

Once Dina and her woman had vanished, and it appeared that they had done so without a trace, Etan, being no fool, had set Mala on his own quest for information according to his own specialties. Mala was a mage who dealt in the mage arts forbidden by society, namely anything above and beyond parlor tricks and healing magics; the former deemed harmless and the latter so beneficial to society that it overwhelmed society's natural fear of such power and the people who wielded it.

But that didn't mean that everyone who studied such arts stopped at what was allowed to be known. There were small groups that studied in secret and offered their services to those who could pay. Guild mages lived in the dark places of society out of self-preservation, for, even knowing how to do what they often did was enough to being put to death. as much an understanding that they were often called upon to perform shadowy, if not dark tasks.

The shadowy task Mala had been set to by Strannix had been to suss out mage involvement in the affair, if any. He was a freelancer mage; one without a guild affiliation who had used that and his generally good ties with the various guilds to become something of a concierge, putting the more elite of society in touch with mages who could meet their needs.

A quick discussion with the representative of the healers that worked in the asylum that kept an office at the harbor to manage the back and forth of goods, visitors, and patients, led to a message sent, and an invitation received in short order. The boat ride itself was relatively quiet. The water was calm and the two men exchanged pleasantries before climbing into the boat, remaining silent for the remainder of the trip. The ferryman didn't notice, as most people who went out this way weren't usually in the mood for happy chit-chat. Mala folded his arms, closed his eyes as if to meditate and allowed the time to pass. Strannix envied him that ability. All he could do was watch himself draw closer to the six-story gray and black building that was all that was left of a long decommissioned naval storage facility.

The grounds were well maintained with some garden areas on either side with hedges creating a half-circle enclosure on each side The building itself was a near featureless rectangle, reminding him of a tomb, and perhaps it was. Unlike some other facilities, it was largely for those that could not be helped, or were unknown. It was for the people that were the state's problem. The stone walls were weathered and the only things that looked new were several sets of window bars on each story. The boat sailed towards the small dock well clear of the building itself.

They knew of the impending arrival, so an attendant stood near the edge, waiting patiently for them to draw close. Mala seemed to know instinctively where they were and his eyes drifted open as the rower tossed the rope ahead of him. Once they were tied off and Etan regained his dignity stepping onto the dock, always feeling awkward and off balance coming on and off smaller boats, he walked toward the wood and iron door, skipping the stone walk because cutting over the grass was the shorter path.

The man who met them walked quickly to catch up, his older legs having to strain to make the distance for a few steps, but once apace, he had no problem keeping up. He wore an evergreen uniform with a gold embroidery of the kingdom's seal; a bird of prey, wings outstretched with a halo of the light of the Goddess behind. He'd seen many years, most of them in one such hospital or another. Age spots dappled his skin and time left its mark with more than his fair share of wrinkles. His hair had all but fled his head long before and he'd shaved away what was left not long after.

Strannix began "Thank you for agreeing to let us see your new arrival on such short notice, Healer..."

"Colm, And it's no trouble at all, Mr. Strannix." Every word was measured before it let his lips and it sounded like he'd simply forgotten how to raise his voice. "We're certainly hopeful to find any information that might help a patient, especially one in his condition. It might be something as simple as seeing a familiar face, or even just someone that knows his name." They reached the door, which opened to a long, well-lit corridor that they followed to the stairs at the other end as they spoke, passing a set of guards at the midpoint as they talked. "You say you know this man? Do you know what may have led to his condition?"

Etan remained circumspect, "I said I may know him. The description is certainly familiar to me. He may be a business associate of mine. As to what led him to be the way he is right now, your guess is as good as mine, which is why I brought with me my personal healer. I hope that's all right."

They began walking single file up the narrow steps. "Oh, it's quite all right. I have no ego to bruise in that way. What matters is the patient. If someone can help, they're welcome to try."

Mala finally spoke. "You have no idea as to what ails him?"

"None," Colm answered. "There was no sign of poison and no signs of physical trauma. Whatever has happened to him is all in his mind, which is why we are at a loss at this point."

When Strannix gave him a curious look, he continued. "The body is a complex thing and even magic can't undo every malady or injury, though we work to expand our knowledge and abilities every day, but, the body, compared to the mind, is a simple thing. It's very much a machine, with pumps, lubricants, filters, and many other elements that an engineer would find as familiar as a healer."

They stepped onto the third floor, passing a healer and two other nurses as they did, with Colm nodding in their direction as they passed without pausing as he spoke. "But the mind is a different thing. We can examine some of its parts individually, see how some of those parts interact, and even mitigate some damage, but it is an infinitely complex organ. We may understand it all one day but, alas, it won't happen in time to help this poor soul." Two-thirds of the way down the hall, Colm took the door on the left and withdrew a key ring from his belt. Counting keys, he selected the necessary one and opened the door with a hard turn of the key against the heavy iron cylinders within the lock. "Here we are."

The door opened with a quick squeak from the hinges and they stepped in to a small, sparsely furnished, but clean room. It reminded Strannix of the small rooms for rent at the harbor that merchant sailors used during long stops. There was a bed on the right side with a darkly varnished writing space that was just a piece of wood bolted to the wall. Gray light streamed through the window, bathing everything in front of it in a dusky light that fought with the orange glow of the lamps, casting long shadows about the room.

Mala and Strannix slowly approached either side as Colm spoke again, "He seems to be able to function...basically. He can be fed. He can rise and walk with guidance, so he gets regular exercise. And, we, of course, talk to him regularly in the hopes that something we say might trigger some sort of response. There is still a sense of him. We sense that...someone's home, so to speak, but we're doing all we can do."

Strannix was not easily disturbed, but he had to admit that he found the sight more than a little unsettling. The man he knew was towering, if thin, and his dark eyes never betrayed his true feelings. This man bore little resemblance to that one. Instead of a towering, threatening presence just by being in a room, this body was collapsed into the chair. Thin was now gaunt, seemingly now with no fat between skin and bone, his skin blanched, as though he had experienced so much terror for so long, that his blood had gone cold. His eyes moved as though he were watching a dream, but the light of life behind those eyes was dim.

Colm saw the expression on his face, "You know him then?"

Strannix saw no need to lie, even if he didn't offer up the entire truth. "He has done work for me in the past. Honestly, I only know him as 'Dex' and I don't know enough about him to know if that's his real name, or his first or last. He did odd jobs for me now and then. He never spoke much about his past."

Mala knelt, taking his hand and becoming part of the energy that was Dex, doing so carefully because, having no idea what was at play, he didn't want to take too great a risk and potentially get caught up in it himself. His eyes closed, he felt his way through the other's being, his other hand going to the base of Dex's neck.

"You know of no other friends or family then?"

"I'm afraid not." He looked away from Dex, reaching his limit of the unsettled feeling that came with looking at a husk of a man. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

Colm, sighed, slightly dejected, but it wasn't the first time someone with no history or identity had come to them. What saddened him was that most of them died in the same state. After all these years, the calluses his kind were supposed to grow over their feelings were never quite thick enough to protect him. He would probably never know what that was like. "I am, too."

Mala rose, smoothing his clothes. "I wish I could say that you and yours are incompetent and that Dex will be well after all, but I am at a loss as well." He gave Strannix a sidelong glance before continuing. "I see signs of a stroke and yet..."

Colm nodded, "Some of our healers believe the same, but, whatever the cause, we are at a loss when it comes to treatment." He shrugged, giving in to that loss for the moment. "Perhaps you could still be helpful, Mr. Strannix. If you could get in touch with any associates you have in common and see if perhaps they know of someone to contact on Dex's behalf."