Chapter 46: Witch of Iwade
Two hours later, Seiren had just about had enough of Iwade. The people had as much charm as horse muck and all the helpfulness to go alongside it. Barely any of them stopped when she asked questions, let alone responded with anything worth memorising. Despite the rapidly-cooling temperature as winter approached, the air here was stagnant and heavy with sawdust and smoke from the machines. Seiren's tunic stuck to her back and armpits; her short blonde hair plastered to her head.
"People are busier recently. There's been a lot of talk about the king of Hanna being quite sickly and maybe dying... there's a lot of uncertainty on the horizon so people want to be prepared. Stock up on coal and wood and things," said Felora, trying to be helpful and stem Seiren's simmering temper.
Unsurprisingly, Halen Ashworth did not spring out of the crowds, brandishing her knife. Shopkeepers grunted at her and passed her change when she tried to make conversation over the purchase of orange tea leaves and then hurried to serve another customer. No doubt if she announced she were a mage, she would be treated differently, but that only served to worsen her disdain for this place. For such a busy city, it felt horribly isolating and remote.
Not to mention the ground was made out of the tiniest slits of stones cobbled together so that every other step caught Seiren's toes and made her stumble, making her grumpier than ever. It seemed like a whole week since she'd taken on the latest assignment.
I don't like it, though. Who would send a rookie like you to catch a rogue mage like Ashworth? She's a professional serial killer now.
Wait, let me just question the Council of Mages... ah, not happening.
If someone really wants you dead, this is how they should go about doing it. Set you against someone who almost killed you, with a disadvantage against you.
Madeleine's comment unnerved Seiren, but she would never admit it out loud. Felora and Peron kept close to her on the busy Iwade streets. The faces Seiren passed looked progressively more sour. She rounded the end of the street; admittedly she should have searched harder. Halen Ashworth was unlikely to sit beneath a sign stating 'Serial Killer Here'.
You could ask that innkeeper.
The fat pious cow? No, thank you.
Sure. You can just knock on every door asking for Halen Ashworth, then. I wish you luck.
Seiren paused. Or I could just sit outside alone again like I did back then and she'll come find me.
Oh yes, use yourself as bait. Please do. Are you stupid?
I was joking. Seiren's eyebrows rose. Believe it or not, if I get bitten in the ass, I do learn my lesson.
Or stabbed in the stomach, as the case were.
Thank you, sister.
Sighing, she whirled round and stared up at the inn building. She could ask the greasy innkeeper, if she could suck up the pride and admit defeat. She'd spent an hour wandering pointlessly around Iwade. The place was too big, the people too unhelpful, and it was too busy for her to find anything meaningful.
Seiren racked her memories for the name and face of the mage assigned to Iwade. An older woman's face came to mind, with greying blonde hair and severe dark brown eyes. A grimace sat below an eagle-shaped nose. Recca Mirren. Seiren hadn't had much of an interaction with her, but she remembered her mother mentioning that name a few times, as Mirren was also a rune mage.
Oh, so you're entertaining my suggestion now?
She chewed her lip, the words tumbling in her head.
Hey, old hag, where does Recca Mirren live?
Hey, you, I'm looking for the mage here.
Oi, witch, know where I can find Recca Mirren?
Madeleine sighed. This is why you have no friends, Seiren Harred.
Seiren scowled.
"Mage... is there anything we can help with?" said Felora in a small voice, adjusting her spectacles. "Do you want me to fetch something from your room or--"
"I'm looking for Recca Mirren. Where does she live?"
"Mage Mirren has an office near the edge of town, some thirty minutes' walk from here," said Felora. Seiren's shoulder sagged. She'd already marched pointlessly around the city, only to be faced by another thirty-minute walk.
"Can't we get a runed motor or something?"
Peron chuckled. "I'm afraid Iwade is not that advanced, Mage. A horse-drawn cart, perhaps, if one of these kind citizens can spare us one."
"Forget it," she huffed. She wasn't going to ask for niceties in this unpleasant city. "Lead the way."
It only struck Seiren as she strode behind Felora how young the girl was. They could be the same age. It was just as well she didn't hold a grudge against Seiren for kicking her in the face in Seiren's feverish state back in Bicknor. Felora seemed younger, likely because of the glasses and elfin features, and she only came up to Seiren's shoulder, but there was a spring in her step in this familiar city and she proceeded like one who knew the streets well. Trouble had always found Seiren; it was a first for her to seek it in return.
The shops on the streets -- mainly metal- and woodworkers, with small units of living areas above them up to three storeys -- thinned as they reached the edge of the city. Crowds also thinned, most of them heading into the city returning to work. The occasional horse-drawn cart dashed past, the wheels bumping on the road with its tiny cobbles. The air cleared up, leaving a trace of industrial smoke and horse manure.
"Ta-da!"
Recca Mirren's office couldn't be more obvious. In stark contrast to the grey and rice-yellow colour theme of the housing units and occasional shops, hers was sleek with gilded windows and shining glass and the walls were painted a pale salmon pink. It was very much in the colourful style of Danaway in its prime, and looked out of place against the practical Iwade backdrop.
Recca Mirren was a flamboyant mage. Great. Seiren stared at the door knocker, polished to within an inch of its life, again in stark contrast to the rusted, peeling knocker in Hartley.
Well, you were pretty convinced Loren was just a pretty airhead with not a brain cell to her. Proved you wrong, didn't she?
Seiren bit her lip. Without another word, she reached out and slammed the door knocker. Before the second knock, there was a loud click behind the door and it swung open, and a most disagreeable-looking middle-aged man in vomit-green military uniform peered through the gap.
"Mage Mirren is available during the hours of nine to eleven in the morning and two to four in the afternoon. You are--" He checked his pocket watch. "--five minutes late. Come back tomorrow."
Wow, she only works four hours a day? Must be nice.
"My name is Mage Seiren Nithercott. I'm here to see Mage Recca Mirren."
He glanced in disinterest at her plain black gown. Gritting her teeth, Seiren pulled up her sleeve, showing the violet rune tattoo on her left bicep. Even then, he seemed decidedly unimpressed.
"Have you an appointment with the mage?"
"No, but it's urgent," said Seiren shortly.
"Is something so urgent you cannot send a pigeon ahead? It's only courtesy," he said in a snide voice. Seiren stared at him, unblinking.
"I didn't ask for your opinion. Now go fetch me Recca Mirren."
He pursed his lips at her tone, but didn't say anything more. He turned around and slammed the door shut.
Guess we won't be getting a cup of tea from him, said Madeleine with a sigh.
"Friendly, isn't he?" said Felora, stepping back and gawking up at the windows. All the curtains had some kind of shimmery material that meant they couldn't see what was behind them. Peron grunted in reply. "I hope Mage Mirren is nicer."
"I don't need her to be nice. I need her to not be useless or a bi--"
The door swung open. Seiren inhaled the rest of her words and almost choked.
A middle-aged woman with greying blonde hair and a face like she was perpetually sucking a lemon gazed out of the slit where the grumpy aide was moments before. She had elaborately-curled eyelashes. Dark brown eyes looked at them with disinterest.
"I hope you realise I do not entertain on demand, mage or not," she said in a disdainful voice. Seiren fought back a scowl.
"I'm looking for--"
"You seem to be under the impression I help on demand, too, little girl."
Seiren bit back a retort regarding Mirren's age.
"Now, make it quick. I'm a busy mage."
An eyebrow jumped before Seiren could stop herself. Mirren caught it and her lips curled.
"I have been assigned to hunt down a mage gone rogue, last sighted in Iwade. I was hoping you can kindly advise places where I may get such information."
"I can."
It was after fifteen seconds' pause did Seiren realise Mirren wasn't going to volunteer any more useful information. The woman stared pointedly at her, as if emphasising how beneath her it was, engaging with Seiren. A flush crept up Seiren's neck; her cheeks burned.
Don't insult her, Seiren. You're in her territory now.
"May I please have that information?" she said through gritted teeth, her fists clenched. Her shame poured off her in waves.
Mirren deliberated for a few seconds. "No," she said in a prim voice. "Perhaps next time, as a rookie, you should get your tutor to hold your hand and teach you how to actually speak to your superiors, little girl."
She slammed the door. Seiren whispered foul words under her breath. Felora gasped.
"Fine!" she said out loud, swirling around. She would find another way. She didn't need the help of a saggy old hag anyway. If she charged around enough in the dodgy areas of the city, she would no doubt run into trouble soon enough. As it stood, trouble always found her anyway.
Felora and Peron looked at each other. Seiren had marched on ahead when a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air.
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