All the Little Hints

I loved to read. Still do, I suppose. Far more than I did growing up. Maybe it’s because I’m sick now, my body failing me in a way it didn’t when I was a child. I’m often tired. It can feel like I’m in pain half the day.

Of course, I still do things. Like is short enough without taking out a large chunk for pain, and I think I’m the type to go a little crazy if I’m in the same room all the time. I don’t envy the people who genuinely have no choice.

I’m an Investigator. At the time, I was helping a farmer find out what happened to his sheep.

But when there was time off, or when it was just a slow day, books were good. I could sit or lay down, and read about anything and everything, without hurting myself thanks. Some books even let you choose what happened next, depending on what page you flipped to. And there were the puzzle books to keep your mind sharp. Riddles, logic puzzles, sudoku. But, well, my job also keeps might mind sharp.

Aside from those, there was a series about sky boats I liked to read. A crew on a boat that moved across air instead of water, exploring the sky instead of the seas. And ones about terrible people doing brutal violence scratches an itch in my brain that some people might disapprove of.

For example, at the time, I had just finished reading a book about a monster in a sewer, who lured people in and drowned them in the waters.

I sat propped up on my bed as I finished, and then put it on the dresser beside the bed. It was stacked with two other books.

I hadn’t gone to the library for them. That would defeat the point of the “no moving” thing. The head librarian sent one of her assistants to me. The head librarian was a human woman. She was an old one, with wrinkles and gray hair, so it made sense she’d send someone else. The assistant was also a human woman, skinnier and younger, with dark brown hair in a ponytail. I believed her name was Oakal.

The day after that was gray and damp. It wasn’t raining, but everything was wet. And that was good for me. It meant I wouldn’t be hurt by the sun.

I had another case of a farmer with missing sheep. I borrowed a horse and rode out, looking around the field from on its back. The farmer and his wife argued while I scanned the ground.

“I’m telling you, it was wolves,” the farmer said. “We don’t need to waste money on an Investigator.”

“Wolves don’t live here,” his wife said.

I also didn’t think it was wolves, for a separate reason. If it had been wolves, there would’ve been signs. But this was more like they’d been sucked up into the sky, simply vanishing.

***

That evening, I had dinner with Plover, my friend in the guards. He was a kind man, and helped me when I needed someone physically healthy, though he wasn’t always smart.

And there were new books to go through at home. One was a whirlwind romance, something else I’d never get. Another was an informational book about dragons. Dragons hadn’t lived in the realm for a long time, and over the years stories about them got a bit warped. This book hoped to rectify that. At least after reading it, I could confidently say dragons had not stolen the sheep.

The last book was supposedly a realistic fiction, about a group of shadow elves forming a society in the sewers.

I shook my head. Such a tired trope, I thought, dropping against the pillow. Try putting us somewhere original next time.

***

“Have you considered becoming a writer?”

I paused, hand on the bag of books Oakal was holding out. “What?”

“Have you considered becoming a writer? You seem to have the time, and you read so much.”

“Writing a book and reading one are two different things. And it probably wouldn’t be good for my hand.”

Oakal frowned. “I thought your right hand was the bad one.”

I’m left handed.

“For now,” I agreed, bitter.

***

Upstairs, I lit a candle and looked at the books. It was dark, but my eyes were better than a human’s. Even if I couldn’t read them, I could at least look at the titles and synopses.

The first book was about a man whose wife was killed by a cult, and then he went on a rampage against them. I hummed in appreciation. Yes, that sounded like something I might like, based on prior reading tastes.

There was also a book about characters caught in a maze without knowing they were in a maze.

The last was a nonfiction book about the history of the sewers here in the capital. . .

I dropped the book into my lap with a “thunk” and looked up.

You have to understand, I didn’t think much about my skills as an Investigator. If asked, I was good, but not the greatest detective in the world or something. I’m not that even at my best, and I was young, and not at my best yet.

But this wasn’t subtle. Someone really wanted me to focus on the sewers. It could be a trap, but I could defend myself, and I had to see what they were telling me.

***

The sewers in the capital are large. That’s because we’re by the ocean, and the sewers are reworked caves. See? The book was handy.

I could hear voices. There was a hole in the wall, between the tunnel I was in, and an area on the other side that sounded like it might still be an untouched ocean cave. It was a small hole, but I could hear through to the other side, helped by how it echoed down there. I slid closer to the gap to listen.

“This seems like a roundabout way to do it,” a man grumbled. “We could just take the sheep to the edge of town, and carry them by land. We’re taking them further inland eventually anyway.”

“Do you want to get caught? It’s a lot easier to watch a road than an ocean,” another man said.

There was a shushing, this time from a woman. “Don’t talk so loud in a cave.”

There were sheep sounds as well.

I mean, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on at that point.

I stepped back, and swung a hand towards the wall. Even a faint movement, where I was trying to hold back, resulted in more than I’d wanted. Bursts of golden sparks shot from my arm and against the wall, blasting it apart where it hit and leaving deep cracks even along the edges.

My magic is powerful. It’s more powerful than a mortal is supposed to hold. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told. Maybe I could reign it in with practice, but that’s a luxury I don’t have.

There was swearing on the other side of the wall, and two arrows fired at me. I swung my arm again, and more sparks came out, blasting the arrows to splinters and burning one of the people who fired them. I hadn’t meant to hit him, but again, powerful magic. He yelled and stumbled back.

“You fool,” the other man snarled at me, still pointing his bow at me. “You think you can stop us?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re sheep wrangles. I would be embarrassed if I were you, instead of trying to act tough.” I couldn’t put that much energy behind my words, but I could put a bite in them.

The woman laughed and stepped in front of the two men. “Come now Chalirra. We both know your power will melt you unless you end this quickly. So what are you going to do? Kill us?”

Oakal. It was Oakal standing in front of me, the demurer and kinder attitude gone from her. And she would know about my limits. Of course, that had to happen.

“You’re right,” I said. I lifted my right hand. Red sparks flew out of it, this time shooting through the ceiling and going into the sky above, like a flare. That was the third time I’d used magic in a short amount of time. My wrist trembled with the strain. I could only hope my sleeve hid it. “But I won’t be alone now.”

“Hell,” Oakal said. “Hurry up and get her!”

She didn’t wait for the men, pulling out a sword of her own. I dodged her attack and kicked her side, creating sparks at my left foot to give my kick more power. Sure enough, she went flying across the cavern, rolling on the ground.

When one of the men tried to attack I blasted at him. He dodged, letting the rocks behind him explode. Parts of my arm were turning to black gloop. When this was over, I’d need to find a magic healer.

We did this song and dance for a little longer, dodging each other or attacking. I was winning, but we were all getting injured. Then my left ankle hit the ground, and gave out. I felt myself tip. . .

Only for two buff arms to catch me at my armpits.

“Woah there.”

I looked up, and managed a smile. “Plover,” I croaked.

Looked like the guards would take it from here.

***

Only two farmers would pay me for the return of sheep. They were, after all, the one’s who’d requested my help. But there were other sheep going to other farmers as well.

Ah well. Such was life.

The sheep wranglers were caught, and I had one more stop to make that night.

I steered entirely by using my left hand on the reigns, and occasionally kicking with my right foot. Luckily, I had a well-trained horse. When I reached the library, I didn’t so much dismount as slide off.

“Chalirra.”

The short old librarian came out the door as I was getting down. I don’t know if she was already leaving, or if she was coming out because she’d seen me.

Either way, she steadied me as I hit the ground. Then she took my good hand, and brought me to the nearest chair inside. She took a seat in the chair next to it, a little table between us.

“Chalirra, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I know the library’s closed,” I said, ignoring what she probably really meant. “But I wanted to thank you. For giving me hints.”

The librarian smiled, but lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? How do you know it was me?”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t Oakal. You or her were the most likely people to be packing my books. I suppose another assistant could’ve been slipping me books about the sewers.” The library was run on more than two people, after all. “But that seems farfetched.” I drew in a breath. It was more ragged then I’d hoped. I smiled at the head librarian like I’d done something clever. “Also, if you hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t have the faintest idea what I was talking about, when I tried to thank you.”

The librarian smiled back at me.

She broke the silence first. “You like that series with the sky boats, yes? The author wrote a new one. Would you like it?”

“Yes!” I bolted up despite myself.

“Excellent. I’ll give it to you for the road.” She got up and toddled to the nearest shelf, presumably getting it. “And don’t be a stranger. I just finished reading it myself. I’d love to talk to someone else about it. When you’re feeling up to it.” She wagged a finger. “I know a thing or two about pain.” I heard a bone crack with near perfect timing, but she smiled.

And I smiled too. I’d found the sheep, gotten another book, and it looked like I’d gotten a new friend out of it.