It’s such a lovely morning. A few clouds cling to the distant mountains. Above me are the fading wisps of warming fog. The birds are giving loud and vivid displays. It’s such a lovely morning at the park.
Nearby the water fountains burble constantly. The ducks are going about their business while gossiping to each other. Squirrels are dogging the few people present in hope of dropped crumbs.
I’m sitting with my back to one of the larger fountain displays and the morning sun. A large textured wall with water constantly flowing over the surface. The burbling is settling my nerves some.
I’ve been tasked to auction off an artifact. But I have no idea on whose behalf. Only that if the auction fails for any reason, to keep the artifact with me. I received it this morning from a Courier. It was entertaining to see someone else as messenger. Once upon a time, that would have been me. Still not sure if the change in jobs is a promotion, a demotion, or a punishment. It’s anything but boring, that’s for sure.
The bag was nondescript. Could be a shopping bag from any big chain. Sturdy enough to withstand weight, plain enough to avoid suspicion, anything could be in it. It is good that the bag does not attract attention. The contents certainly would.
Before dismissing the messenger I inspected the contents. I didn’t fully unwrap the artifact, just exposed enough of it for me to confirm I had what I was expecting. On seeing the nearly black surface I was assured it arrived to me intact.
I was now in possession of a human’s left hand. Tattooed with various marks and sigils before removal from the body, it was carefully preserved so that when laid on a level surface, the open hand would be able to hold other objects. I was given no other information about the hand. I did not inquire. I wasn’t being paid to be nosy, just to auction it.
Once the messenger notifies the sender of my receipt, the two bidders will be informed of my location. The bag bothered me. The park is a very open environment. There are many places to watch me without my noticing, and many directions to run to should someone snatch the bag from me. The hand had a faint dark aura to it. Whatever its function, it was prized. Best not to take risks.
My satchel changes shape and size in accordance with my will. So far, it was the size of a small clutch purse. I expanded it to retrieve my lunch. Realizing the artifact and my lunch was the same size, I switched the two objects. The artifact went in my satchel. My lunch went in the bag. The satchel was shrunk to the size of a wallet and attached to my waist by a fashionable (and functional) chain. Now it appeared I had only one tote that contained personal items and the artifact.
Morning became noon. Time for lunch. Still seated at the bench by the large fountain, I unwrapped my lunch. I took a second look to make sure I had truly switched the items. Would be a shame if I ate the artifact, after all. I’d know on the first touch if I had grabbed the wrong thing. The artifact’s surface is hard with nearly no give to pressure. The pickled hand is slurpy.
A previous employer had double crossed me, not only refusing to pay me, but declaring me a criminal in his lands. I warned him I would have my due. I now have one of his hands. It’s a start on his payment.
Sucking a thumb bone, I feel an intense gaze wash over me, followed by amusement at my choice of entrees. I look around and see only one person watching me. Seated far enough away to have no connection to me, but staring at me with intention was a well dressed woman. She flashed a small gold coin at me, the token of her participation in the auction. I nodded and looked around slowly. The second bidder had not arrived yet.
She stood and came closer until it was clear what was in my lap. She looked at my lunch with surprise. “I hope I’m not bidding on leftovers.”
“Ha. No. This is my lunch. The item is safe.” I patted the nondescript bag. She laughed with me and sat a few benches away.
The woman was taller than me and lithe of build. She had a delicate bearing, but the way she moved told me there was an athlete under the dress. The woman was of mixed ethnicity, with the deeply warm hues of Nubia but the facial structures of East Asia. Some deep instinct warned me from looking her in the eyes.
The way her dress moved over her body helped distract me. A tight white dress fitting closely to her legs so that only her ankles and heeled shoes were showing. Bright blue roses were regularly printed on the fabric. Along with her wide-brimmed white hat, she appeared ready to step into a social function.
She had told me her name when she teased me about my lunch. But after she sat down, I realized I did not remember it. That unsettled me, so I asked her again. She spoke it, but as fast as she finished, I had forgotten. I smiled and nodded as if I knew it. She smiled and nodded in return. She expected me to remember what she wanted me to remember. My instinct reminded me not to look in her eyes.
I drop a napkin on the ground by accident. In picking it up, I hear the sound of a running car engine behind. Looking towards the source, the driver of the car suddenly ducks down. I’m being watched and sloppily so. The ineptness offends me more than the snooping. Taking advantage of the last of shade, I shift my position so the fountain blocks me from the snoop’s view. I motion to the Blue Rose Woman, pointing at my eyes then behind me. Just as I finish the motion, the car slowly moves into view again. The snoop moving down the street to keep me in sight. The Blue Rose Woman raises an eyebrow in mirth, nods slightly, but says nothing.
Shortly after, I am approached by a man. The first thing I see is a flash of a gold coin, the token of an authorized bidder. He stops several feet away and apologized for intruding on my lunch. “I would approach further, but you are eating unclean food. Please, do not stop for me! Good food is good food, and to ask you to cease would be the greater sin. However, my religion requires that I keep my distance from you until you are done. Please, do not take offense. Enjoy your lunch!” He gives his name as “Mr. Mugabwe” and sits next to the Blue Rose Woman instead.
While the two engage in the chit-chat, vain flirting, and mild bluffing that gamblers do, I took advantage of my lunch to inspect Mr. Mugabwe closely. A large, hefty black man with skin glistening from pampering oils, he spoke English with a very heavy accent reminding me of a visitor from Ghana. What his native language is, I could not begin to guess. In noting his accent, I realized the Blue Rose Woman spoke perfect English. So perfect, her inflection was identical to my own. My suspicion of her deepened.
Mr. Mugabwe’s accent slurred his voice like thickened spiced honey. The scent of spices that accompanied him didn’t help. He wore formal robes that breezed about his body comfortably. White linen with brown and black patterns and highlights, he did not demand attention from his surroundings unless you wanted to give him attention. He wore many rings, but just enough gold to hold the dark stones in place. His smile was framed by a full moustache and neatly trimmed beard. His cap fit his afro just right, and his afro framed his face just right.
I suppose it’s time to get started. I wrap up the uneaten portion of my lunch tightly and place it beside me. Wiping my hands and face carefully and in full view of Mr. Mugabwe to show I was now ritually clean, I expand the satchel behind the bag. “Give me a moment, to put my lunch away, and we will get started.” I make a big movement of pulling the artifact out of the satchel. But from their point of view, I was pulling it out of the bag. I put the artifact back in the satchel, and placed my lunch leftovers in the bag. Mr. Mugabwe wrinkled his face in concern, telling me he thought both items were in the same bag. The Blue Rose Woman only snorted in amusement at his distress. I shrunk the satchel back to wallet size before grabbing the bag and approaching them.
“You know what I am auctioning. You’ve both seen it in my hands. It’s too pleasant a day for formalities. However, it is too open a day for currency to be displayed openly. You wouldn’t be here if the Master didn’t trust you to behave yourself. So, let us justify that trust. Display the tokens of your payment. Begin.”
The Blue Rose Woman introduces herself for the third time. And for the third time, I forget what name she has given. However I realize she has given a different name each time. She lays out strips of paper to represent her currency. She counts out marked paper representing nineteen thousand and five hundred marks of her currency. But it is a currency I have not heard of. Nor am I able to remember it. I remind myself the artifact is in the shrunken satchel, and my lunch is in the bag. I grip the bag tighter to keep up the ruse.
Mr. Mugabwe smiles smugly and places five large cowrie shells on top of the papers. Each shell is the size of a golf ball. Beside those, he places twenty small cowries, and five cowrie slices. The Blue Rose Woman raises an eyebrow. It is clear she has been outbid, but I do not understand by how.
“Madam, have you a counter bid?” She wrinkles her face, but her body is tensing. She says nothing. In my backpocket, a minion wraps around the wallet-sized satchel. If she reaches for it, she may not keep her hand for the effort.
“Sir, would you explain your bid while Madam considers?” He smiled broadly, showing glistening white (and slightly crooked) teeth. When he moves to gesture at the shells, the Blue Rose Woman snatches the plain bag from my grip and runs.
I had held on just enough so her vicious movement would be justified. I take chase after her, but not before winking at Mr. Mugabwe. He had started to run after as well, but my wink stopped him. He only smirked after me as he gathered up his shells.
My expectation of gymnastic moves was confirmed. She made parkour look trivially easy as she bounced off monuments and between pedestrian levels. She made turns that I would not be able to match if on wing, and was barely able to keep up on foot. I kept on her trail though until I realize that in pursuing, I am being pursued.
The realization distracts me enough to lose sight of her. When I catch up to the last place I saw her, a field of tree stumps and thick grass, I am unable to determine which way she left the field. There are no tracks in the grass, and she is athletic enough to jump from stump to stump. She could have left the field in any direction, even doubling back, and I would not be able to tell. Conceding I have lost her, I now have to worry about the two white men about to catch up to me. They have murder on their face, and I do not want to deal with them right then and there.
I duck into the nearest gift shop where I encounter a black man in the same style of clothing as Mr. Mugabwe. “He says that you should return to where you started. He sent me to make sure no one stops you.” I mutter my thanks as another black man in the same clothing style motions towards the back door. As I duck out, my pursuers enter the gift shop and run into the black men. “How rude of you! Is everyone in your country so blind?” As they make an international incident on the spot, I make my way back to the fountains and Mr. Mugabwe.
“Ah! The thief! She has it!” Even in distress, his voice is melodiously heavy. Mr. Mugabwe looks me over. “However, you are unharmed. And so, of the two possible ills, only the lesser has been incurred.”
“My thanks to you and your men for the assistance, Mr. Mugabwe.” He nods in response. “However, of the two possible ills, none has been incurred. She has my lunch. The artifact is safe.” His face brightens at my words. He smiles and chuckles as I enlarge the satchel and show the artifact. “I wanted her to believe she actually has it, lest she stalk us and try harder immediately.” I unwrap it just enough to prove my words to him. “I do believe, she has forfeited her role in this auction. Making you the winner by default. Your last bid will be accepted as the final. Do you wish to pay for it now, or have arrangements been made with the Master?”
“No. Put it back in your portable safe. You have proven yourself a worthy caretaker. There are other things amiss with this day, and finalizing the auction now may still prove disastrous. I would rather it remain in safe hands for now. I must consult with others about that… woman… and what has happened.”
I placed the artifact back in the satchel, and from there ported it to the shelves in my lair. Shrinking the satchel back to wallet-sized and allowing the minion in my backpocket to hold it again, a thought comes to me.
“Mr. Mugabwe. It is my turn to display trust. I want to throw my awareness to the lunch she has stolen. It may have enough of a connection to me still that I can detect the surroundings. But my body will be vulnerable. Would you…”
“It would be an honor to watch over you, Miss. You are a treasure and none shall harm you under my watch!” He gestured and the two men I saw at the gift shop came forward. They sat beside me on the bench while Mr. Mugabwe himself stood over me. Knowing my minions will keep me safe from wandering hands, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the lingering taste of the pickled flesh.
A woman is carrying the bag with determination. I know her to be the Blue Rose Woman, but she looks different. She now appears as a dark-skinned Hindu/Asian mixed woman. Still thin of build, she is shorter and leaner. Instead of the white dress, she is in a baby blue catsuit with roses and vines embroidered in dark blue thread. She is pacing next to a large tank of water. Flowing water is nearby, and I hear loud splashes of something in the water.
The two men that chased me into the gift shop appear shortly. They are out of breath and one looks scuffed and bruised. “His men were waiting and gave her cover. Once she entered the gift shop, we had no chance of catching her.”
“Idiots! Why did you let her enter the gift shop in the first place! I made her slow and stumble so many times I almost gave myself away to give you a chance to catch up! Did you think I was playing damn games with her! There’s a chance she can trace the artifact’s location!”
She looks at the bag with sudden thought. Emptying the bag, she finds only napkins and a butcher-paper wrapped object. She pulls off the paper, scattering the bones and uneaten flesh of the pickled hand that was the leftovers of my lunch. The two men back away slightly as she screams and stomps in frustration.
“She tricked me! I watched her and she still tricked me! Where is the hand! She had no other bag with her! Where is the damn hand!”
She turned her attention to the two men. “I see why you were so quick to serve me! You proved yourselves useless to your sworn gods and wanted to hide from their wrath by committing to me! And all you have done is get in my way! Go back to your masters! I have nothing to do with you anymore!”
Before the two men could run, she pounces on them and throws them into the tank of water. Something looking like eels rise and begin devouring them without attempting to kill them first. As they scream their loyalties to her, she summons the tokens of their oaths to her. Appearing as carved sticks, she breaks them, releasing their souls back to the gods they had ran from.
Of the two sticks, I saw that one man had been sworn to Odin before swearing to the woman. The other man had been sworn to “Pingyang”. If Pingyang is who I think it is, the torment of the two men is only beginning.
The woman scoops up the remnants of my lunch and throws it in the water with the eels. The bones are quickly devoured, severing my connection with the area and returning my awareness to myself. I open my eyes to see Mr. Mugabwe still standing over me. He has a cup of water and a bread roll at the ready for me.
I accept the food and water, and after fully bringing myself back, tell him what I saw. He says he has heard of the “Old One-Eyed Warrior”, but he did not know who Pingyang could refer to. I tell him that I had a suspicion, and if correct, judgement was being carried out on the two oath-breakers right then and there.
“Yes, Miss. You should definitely hold on to the artifact for now. It seems my competitor is not one to play fair and the game should be suspended until a safer means to play can be developed. I shall inform the artifact’s master of my intention to continue playing, and in good faith, request that it remain in your safe hands until the artifact’s master makes a decision. In the meantime, her actions are an offense against my interest’s. I do not take betrayal kindly. I wish to see you depart first, Miss. Once you have left safely, I shall do the same.”
I thanked him for watching over me, and bid him a good day. Leaving, I did not port directly to the lair. I jumped “in between” worlds to see if I had any tracking devices or such enchantments placed on me. Finding none, I jumped to the lair to find Snake looking over the artifact in the lair.
“Do I want to know?”
“It’s not mine to keep. Just to keep safe for now.”
Snake grunted. Wrapping the artifact in a length of black cloth, then wrapping the bundle in a length of white cloth, he only sighed and chuckled. Placing it back on the shelf where it appeared, he said over his shoulder, “I better get started on hollowing out the Chamber of Random Artifacts.”
“It’s not going to stay!”
“That’s what you said about me, remember?”
“Smart-ass!”
He only rattled his naga tail in reply and grinned.