In Plain Sight

That was why Alex worked so well with Leslie; nothing got by her. If she had any magical talent, Alex figured he’d be working for her, sooner or later. Deep down, he wondered if he wasn’t already.

“Close,” he said. “When I shook his hand he winced, so I slapped him on the back. You know, friendly like.”

“And?” Leslie said, clearly impatient for this story to be over.

“And he damn near passed out. Somebody worked him over good. A pro who knew not to leave bruises on his face or arms.”

“What did his wife think happened?”

“He told her he fell down the stairs,” Alex said, shrugging. “She bought it, too.”

“It was awful nice of those stairs not to mess up his face,” Leslie pointed out.

“Give the girl a break,” Alex said, offering Leslie a cigarette. “Anyway, I had the story out of Burt in two seconds. He’d been running a tab with his bookie.”

“Slow ponies?” Leslie said, taking the cigarette between her ruby lips and lighting it with the touch-tip on the desk.

“Worse. He’s a Washington Senators fan.”

Leslie dropped the metal match back in the lighter and smirked.

“Ouch,” she said. She’d put the match away before Alex could light his own cigarette, so he leaned close and pressed the tip of his cigarette to Leslie’s. Her perfume washed over him, lavender and amber oil. He was suddenly very aware of her, and he pulled away. It would have been easy to fall for her, despite her being almost ten years his senior, and that would be bad for business.

“Anyway, Burt hocked the ring to pay off the bookie,” Alex finished the story.

“How did the wife take it?” Leslie asked. “More importantly, did you get paid?”

“Wife took it bad,” Alex said. “It was her grandmother’s ring.”

“That bastard.” Leslie looked shocked.

“Anyway, he’d cleaned them out, even the cash she had stashed away.”

Leslie groaned and put her head in her hand again.

“So no money?” She looked up sharply when Alex crinkled two crisp bills, a twenty and a five, under her nose. “How?” she gasped, snatching the money and holding it up to the light.

“Lola didn’t want to stay with her husband anymore, so I took her over to her mother’s place. She lives in the inner-ring, right up against the core.”

“Ooh,” Leslie purred. “Fancy.”

“Apparently mother dear had been trying to convince Lola that Burt was a bum for years. She was overjoyed to have her back. Paid my fee and the cab fare.”

Leslie smiled and nodded at Alex.

“You did good, kid,” she said. “I’m so happy that I’m not even going to ask you where you got the cigarettes.”

“Oh, those were Burt’s,” Alex said with a grin. She took a puff, then held out the cigarette at arm’s length.

“Thanks, Burt,” she said with mock sincerity. “Now, let’s take care of this.” Circling the desk, she opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a heavy steel box, dropping it on the table with a clank. The top of the box was plain, with the exception of an engraving depicting an elaborate geometric shape.

“It’s me,” she said, leaning close to the lid. “Open up.”

The rune on the lid glowed with a purple light and an audible click sounded from inside. Alex watched as the rune’s light faded. The edges of the engraving were already getting fuzzy and indistinct. Runes were a temporary form of magic, after all. Most disappeared immediately after being used. A talented runewright could make them last longer by using more expensive materials when making the rune, and even engraving it into something. Eventually, though, the rune would lose its magic and disappear, needing to be rewritten by the runewright.

This was what made runewrights the poor cousins of magic. Sorcerers could cast real spells, laying powerful and near-permanent enchantments on whatever they chose. They were rare, of course. Only big cities would have a sorcerer, and most were required by law to serve their governments. America, however, gave sorcerers the same rights as anyone else, so there were more sorcerers in the US than anywhere else. New York had six, each soaring high above the city in their flying castles. If Alex had been born a sorcerer instead of a runewright, he’d never have wanted for cash.

The other branch of magic was alchemy. Alchemists brewed their magic slowly into potions and elixirs. Sorcerers and runewrights mostly dealt with enchantments, making objects magical. Alchemists dealt with people, with their bodies and health. A good alchemist always had work, customers with ready money who needed remedies for everything from gout to baldness. Like runewrights, alchemists kept their recipes secret, passing them from master to apprentice. That meant that some alchemists were quacks and frauds, possessing only a few weak recipes, while others could brew miracle cures in a bottle.