Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

Act 3, Chapter 43: Sharing

Day in the story: 15th January (Thursday), around 2 a.m.Elle Erikson“Kito, please,” Bastien replied. “We will get there in time. There is no need to get into details now and here of all places.” He released the big man and turned to greet each person who had arrived. “It’s beautiful seeing you all here.”

“Your city is not that bad,” the shorter, barrel-shaped man said in a strong Eastern European accent—Russian or Polish perhaps. “People are just awful though. You should do something about it.”

“Piotr, grumpy as usual. Nothing changes.”

“What did you expect to happen, Laurent? You think your one-year absence would lighten my mood? Maybe if it lasted ten years.” The man delivered the line in a perfectly serious tone, paused for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “Good shit, man.” He patted Bastien Laurent on the back.

The women hugged him as well, though neither said anything while doing so. They simply took their seats afterward.

“Lia,” he said, looking toward the tall, thin girl. “Patricia,” he added, turning to the last one. “I’m really happy to see you all here.”

“It’s what we were talking about at school, isn’t it?” Kito asked while studying the foil-wrapped menu lying on the table.

“Exactly,” Piotr whispered, rubbing his hands together. “Finally.”

“Don’t want to burst your bubble,” Patricia spoke up at last. Her voice was raspy, like someone who had been chain-smoking her entire life. “But that’s not something we should take lightly. We’d have to prepare—think about exit options, get a proper amount of food and water, some sleeping bags. Not to mention all the other less mundane necessities. We can’t just rush in and expect that—”

Lia stopped her spiral with a gentle bump of the shoulder.

“We have to start somewhere. We’re a good team, you know that. We topped our course.”

“Yes, but that was an academic setting. This will be real.”

I wondered what exactly they were talking about, but it was very exciting. It was a good thing I followed that man, though getting into that close-knit group would be a challenge. Not that I didn’t welcome one.

“Listen,” Bastien began, placing both hands flat on the table and looking at each of them before continuing. “I promise that I will tell you all about it and what I have found out so far. I know that we would not be the only ones going there. It’s like a gold rush in the city right now.”

“More people are interested?” Lia asked.

“Of course! Paris’s Bohema is all over it. He was one of the old ones in here, but I—” he took a deep breath, “—I know that you are all very excited about this. I am too, but I would much rather not talk about it in here. You never know if someone is listening in public.”

“Why did you want us to meet here, then?” Piotr asked.

“I missed you guys. And since we parted in a pub like this in London, I thought it would be a good place to reunite in one here. Is that so difficult to grasp?”

“You’re too sentimental for that shit. I’m going to get us a few beers. Be right back.” The bulky man stood up and headed toward the counter, inserting himself into the line without caring at all what the other people thought about it.

“Don’t mind him. We’re glad we came here. It wasn’t the same without you,” Lia said to Laurent, grabbing his hand but averting eye contact after just a few seconds.

“She’s right, as much as I hate to admit it,” Kito interrupted the moment with his deep voice. “Our adventures weren’t as fruitful as we’d hoped. So a change of scenery and getting you back in one wicked swoop is a good move for us.”

“And it’s not like we’d be going right away, right?” the ginger-haired woman interjected. “Right?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it. It’s a big place, and it’s dangerous. I’ve begun mapping it near the entrance, but I didn’t get too far in for fear of getting lost.”

“You should not have gone alone.”

“I know. But curiosity got the better of me. We have as much time as we need to get it right.”

Alexandra MayThe nature of Ideworld’s recreation of Earth’s concepts occupied my mind as I moved out of the Art Palace and into the open plaza of my agora. A golem made of city parts that moved without a single sound was interesting enough, but the whole world was just outlandishly fascinating.

Monsters so keen on seeing everything around them that they made people blind to everything could be read metaphorically as well. A kind of security system that desensitized people to the harm around them. Someone else was watching anyway, right?

Elle’s encounter was intriguing too. The photographer had called his old friends to join him because a dead god had been found. That raised the question of whether the place was somewhere on Earth or in Ideworld—and, of course, how to learn more about it. The Bohema they spoke about could be something like our Guild, or something else entirely. At least it sounded similar from the context.

I hoped Elle would find out soon enough.

Meanwhile, I reached for one of the light cards, placed it on the black surface below me, and sat down on the flight of stairs in front of my building. I searched for it within my aura: a small artistic representation of the sun’s blinding light. It depicted a solar flare, with varying hues and colors as if the viewer’s lens was breaking the light apart.

I knew it could be done. I carried the result of the procedure on my own skin.

So I focused on that small rectangle and asked it to become a light source, sending my Authority through the link.

It responded immediately, illuminating the night with a beam of light that shot upward into the sky.

The thing was, now—as in my previous attempts—it didn’t feel like I had the option to grant the card that Authority without it still being mine.

It remained bound to me.

I felt like I had to learn how to do it. Knowing how might prove important someday. At the same time, I didn’t really believe that.

How would giving it all away benefit me in any way? I’d lose the ability to track that piece of art, to feel its connection to me. I’d lose the power to strip the magic from it whenever I wished. And for what? So I could offer my creations to someone else without them fearing I might take that power away?

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I’d prefer them to fear it. To remain indebted to me.

No. This might be a skill worth having, and I would keep trying to learn it, but I definitely wouldn’t grind my gears trying to achieve it as quickly as possible.

“You drifted into reverie, human?” Liora asked, stopping beside me on a platform formed from his thoughts alone.

“Still with this ‘human’ thing?”

“My nature makes it a difficult habit to overcome. When I think about you—despite the knowledge and memories you shared with me, and despite the soul’s life you offered—I still see you as human.”

“I thought I made this clear before. It’s not that you call me that. It’s the way you do it. It sounds derogatory. Demeaning. Do you feel better than me?” I asked plainly, scratching his back behind the horns.

“Certain aspects make you lesser than myself. In others, you are not.”

“Let’s assume you’re a work in progress then,” I said, looking up at the starry sky of my Domain. “How do you know my language? The meanings of the words and all that?”

“Lóngs pass knowledge and memories to their offspring. It blends with the memories of the one we share a soul with once the bond is formed.”

“I don’t think I remember anything from your parents’ lives.”

“No, that is not what I meant, human. Their memories and yours mix together. I receive the result when I am remade in your image. Those that the Celestial Dragon deems important are given to me through the prism of what you require.”

“Celestial Dragon?”

“She is the one before all. We all came from her.” Some form of their deity, perhaps.

“I asked the breeder about this once, but she gave me no answer that satisfied me. Can you grow larger? Legends in our world say your kind can cover the entire sky with your bodies.”

“Yes, of course we can. But only once we become part of a Domain.”

“How does that happen? Do I need to feed you something special?”

“You already do.”

“How so?”

“It is a twofold process. First, I feed on part of the essence of your Authority from the soul core when I rest near it. Second, as your world grows, so will the life within it. All of that life will carry the same essence.”

“That’s why you hunt the rabbits?”

“That and sustenance. In time, human, this place will be full of life. Some of it will be more powerful than a simple critter. I will hunt it and grow stronger from it.”

“My Domain will breed Shadowspawn?”

“It already does. The first representatives of a species are created directly by the Domain. Most of them will possess reproductive systems and multiply on their own, filling the ecological niches.”

“And that’s knowledge you inherited?”

“Yes. I know it because it is important for me to understand how to live and prosper.”

“Makes sense,” I said, absorbing the information. “Do you know if the life created here has souls?”

“Doesn’t everything have one?”

“You don’t know, then. I’m wondering because of the isolated nature of this Domain or the splinters. Earth is connected to Ideworld, and through that connection we cast shadows into that other place. Those shadows have souls of their own. But this Domain of Artistic Creation isn’t a reflection of anything. It’s something created—let’s say—by me. So where do the souls here come from?”

“It is not something I was given knowledge about. I apologize for that, human.”

“Don’t. Hunt, eat and grow stronger my friend.”

Elle Erikson“Lia, please move, sister,” Kito asked his non-identical twin as he came back from the restroom.

They had spent the last hour and a half talking about absolutely nothing of interest to me—sharing new information about old acquaintances and reminiscing about shared events. Still, I managed to learn a few things through context or outright statements. The two black people were indeed related by blood. Piotr was Polish and loved baseball, which, according to Anansi working away on the laptop, wasn’t a very popular sport in his country at all.

The most important detail, however, was that they had all attended some kind of school not far from London. That was where they had been formed into a tight-knit unit. A year ago Bastien had returned to France because his father—the last of his family—had died, leaving him a house. He never went back to England after that, though they stayed in touch through other means.

Overall, not bad for the first eavesdropping session.

But I wanted more access, and that required inserting myself into their circle somehow. Art seemed like a good way to do it.

I finished sketching the Seine as I remembered it from the place where the photographer had been taking pictures earlier. Then I positioned myself closer to the path the men used when heading to the restroom, when I returned with something to drink. I placed my sketchbook on the table and played the role of someone lost in thought, slowly sipping my Mojito.

Kito had already returned to his seat, but Bastien had left with him. I hoped that when Laurent came back, my little piece would catch his eye and give me a reason to start a conversation.

That’s why when he came out of the restroom I tensed a bit, straightening my back—before my additional brain reminded me to relax again.

He moved slowly between the booths, smiling to himself while rubbing the remaining moisture from his wet hands into his trousers. I watched him the whole time with my own eyes, making sure he’d notice my interest. But as he got closer, I feigned embarrassment, lowered my gaze, and let him pass.

My sp-eye-der caught him glancing at me as I turned my head. He smiled to himself again, looked briefly at the sketch on my table, and then continued toward his group.

That sucked.

*Indeed*, Alexandra replied in my mind. I was sure he would fall for that.

I guess a more direct approach is needed.

*I’m not sure. He was already wary of being overheard. If you approach him directly, you might spook him. I think he needs to be the one to make the first move. Otherwise he’ll always be suspicious of you. This just became a longer project.*

I need to arrange a random encounter.

*Setting the dominoes just right. Yeah. Go for it. Just make sure you find out where he lives before you let him out of your sight.*

She was right, of course. This was only a temporary setback. I had already woven at least one thread of fate when we met here and possibly another back by the Seine, if he had noticed me there. I would remain somewhere in his mind when we met again. Most likely in a positive light.

The only thing left to do was keep listening, learn what I could, and then follow.

Luckily, it wasn’t a tiring task. They laughed and exchanged stories, and it became clear that the group had no single nucleus holding them together—no one particular person acting as the glue. They all made a conscious effort to function as a unit.

It made listening in strangely pleasant.

For a moment, I almost felt like part of their camaraderie. The first one I might have had for myself, even if it was entirely pretend right now.

“How are you really feeling?” Lia suddenly asked Bastien.

They had been joking and reminiscing until that point, but the moment she spoke, the atmosphere shifted. Every whisper and side conversation at the table faded into silence as the gravity of her words pulled everyone’s attention in.

“You loved your father dearly,” she continued softly. “How are you, Tien?”

It was the first nickname used so far. There had been something between them once. Maybe there still was, at least on one side. That might explain why he had ignored me earlier.

“It’s… not easy,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer. “I haven’t changed a single thing at home since he died. I miss him.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Patricia said gently.

The men lowered their eyes, unsure how to respond.

“Would he?” Bastien murmured. “I lived in complete limbo for ten months. If not for the stupid Bohemian nights, I’d probably have drunk myself unconscious every evening.”

“Bohemian nights?” Patricia asked. “Those boring meetings kept you from… whatever?”

“Yes, actually they did. They might be dull and ceremonial on the surface, but there’s always gossip. News about someone’s misfortune. And as much as I hate admitting it, I liked hearing about other people having a bad time too.” He shrugged. “Made me feel less alone.”

“Brother, one call and I’d be there for you,” Kito said, his deep voice booming across the table. “You know that. It’s what brought me here—what brought all of us here.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t want to uproot you until I actually had something to share.”

“Will you do it now?” Kito asked. “I think we’ve talked enough of the past. Time to chat about the future.”

“Yes, we can.”

Finally.

“But not here.” Bastien glanced around the pub. “Where are you guys staying?” Pendulum swung away from my luck.

“There’s a place called Montmartre Residence or something like that,” Piotr answered. “Up north. We wanted something close to your home. It’s close, right?”

And just like that, luck swung back my way. If not his address, at least I now knew where they were staying.

“Close enough,” Bastien said. “Let’s call a driver. I’ll explain everything back at my place.”