Chapter 39 – Hoager

The Burning Quill was, as always, well-attended, but not exactly crowded.

Because it was drizzling outside, Hobkin stood by the fireplace today, where the innkeeper had cleared a space for him between the tables. He was telling a story to a handful of listeners with great relish. It was a story that apparently involved the Scorchbishop, a pretty innkeeper, a donkey, and a fateful misunderstanding. A group of men at one of the front tables were already holding their sides with laughter, even though he hadn’t even gotten to the punchline yet.

Hobkin saw Valentina the moment she closed the front door of the Burning Quill behind her. A brief flash crossed his green eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t pause.

Instead, just before the punchline, with a casual wave of his hand that was invisible to most of the audience, he constructed a tiny Essence pattern out of ambient Essence, which he let collapse with a loud bang right at the story’s climax. The audience laughed and clapped, and someone tossed a coin, which Hobkin caught out of the air with a bow.

Valentina ordered a mug of cider at the bar and sat down at a table in the corner. She drank and waited, watching Hobkin entertain his audience with the carefree joy that had fascinated her about him from their very first meeting.

When Hobkin took a break, he slipped his earnings into the pouch on his belt, strolled over to her, plopped down on the bench, and stole a sip from her cup.

“Valentina of Palewood.” He winked at her, leaned back, and then scrutinized her with an exaggeratedly appraising gaze, like a horse dealer. “More beautiful than ever, I see. And richer than ever, if the rumors are to be believed. Your expression tells me that you’re not here just for pleasure. Although I do hope, of course, that pleasure isn’t entirely out of the question.”

“Pleasure is never entirely out of the question,” said Valentina. “But I actually need something.”

“Ah.” Hobkin waved to the barmaid, who brought him his own mug of ale and gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “You know you’ll get everything I can give you. What do you need?”

“Distilled Essence,” said Valentina. “But not the standard stuff you get from licensed dealers. At least exquisite grade, and preferably without questions or my name being noted on any lists.”

Hobkin raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t surprised, or at least, not very much. He knew her well enough to know that she occasionally operated in areas not strictly covered by the curriculum, so to speak. And he had helped her once before, back at the end of her first year, when the information he’d provided to her about Faustus had been crucial to her winning the Greystone Competition.

“Top-notch quality through unofficial channels,” he said slowly. “It’s doable, but it won’t be cheap. My, um, contacts charge a hefty markup for not keeping any records.”

“Money isn’t the problem.”

The corner of Hobkins’ mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have heard that from you two years ago.”

“A lot of things were different two years ago.”

“Indeed.” He took a sip and waited, sensing there was more to come.

Valentina lowered her voice. “I also need something else. Corrupted Essence.”

“That,” he said very calmly and cautiously, “is a whole different thing.”

“I know.”

He leaned forward, and every trace of lightness had vanished from his voice. “Possessing Corrupted Essence is grounds for ending up at the stake if the Illumination finds out, and the people who deal in it aren’t the kind of people who’ll forgive you if you mention their name in the wrong place. We’re talking about people who leave bodies behind.”

“I’m careful.”

He looked at her appraisingly for a long moment.

“I can make inquiries,” he said finally. “But that will take time, and it will cost significantly more than the, um, regular merchandise.”

“Agreed.”

“Good,” said Vyxara in her head. “We’ll start with the Distilled Essence anyway. You need to understand the Eye’s basic mechanics before you bring the volatile element into play. We can only unlock the Eye’s full potential with corrupted Essence, but if you don’t know what you’re doing, then it might unlock yours too, so to speak, and in a way neither of us would like.”

“I’ll let you know the details, in both cases. But I can’t tell you exactly how long it will take.” Hobkin finished his mug of ale.

“I’m patient.” Valentina took a long sip of her cider and leaned back.

“I know,” he winked.

“Tell me, Hobkin,” she said, her tone lightening. “Do you still have that cozy room upstairs?”

Hobkin’s grin returned, broad and brazen as he feigned surprise. “My humble little room? Well, of course. And I even have a new mattress. Well, at least, let’s say, newer than the last time you lay on it.”

“Luxurious.”

“I’m a worldly man.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “May I escort the lady upstairs?”

“You may,” said Valentina, taking his hand and letting him pull her up.

~

Three days later, Hobkin named a hefty sum, which she sent to him, and four days later, just as she was on her way back from the university to her house, a boy approached her.

He was perhaps eight, with a mop of shaggy brown hair sticking out in all directions and dried snot under his nose. And his eyes seemed far too hard for his age. He wore a jacket that had once belonged to someone at least three heads taller, and worn-out, nearly falling-apart boots that were probably held together only by faith in the Martyr.

“Are you Valentina, the pretty woman who lives on Pinfeather Lane?” he asked, without preamble or pleasantries, and planted himself right in front of her so that she had to stop.

Valentina suppressed a smile. “Who wants to know?”

“A friend of a friend,” said the boy in a tone that suggested he had memorized the line and found it very professional. “The, um, the friend says there’s a package at the marked spot on the riverbank below Candleway Bridge, and that the other one will take a little while longer.”

Valentina nodded and reached into her purse. She handed the boy five copper coins, which was more than a messenger’s fee was usually worth. His eyes widened.

“Thank you, Milady,” he said, and a cheeky grin revealed his missing front teeth. “But actually, I’d rather have a kiss.”

Valentina laughed out loud. “Maybe when you’re old enough.”

“I’ll remind you of that!” He stuck out his bony chest. “My name is Hoager. Remember that name.”

“Hoager,” Valentina repeated solemnly. “I’ll make a note of that name in my kiss book.”

He grinned again, shoved the coins into his oversized jacket, and disappeared as quickly and nimbly as a rat into the nearest side alley.

Valentina watched him go and felt a warmth rise in her chest in a feeling that was not quite amusement and not quite melancholy. Hoager reminded her of Colm, her younger brother, who must be eleven by now and whom she hadn’t seen in a year. Colm had the same bold grin and the same habit of acting more self-assured than a child his age should be. Except that Colm had a roof over his head and enough to eat. In part because she had made sure of it. Hoager probably had neither.

“You can’t save them all,” Vyxara said gently.

Valentina sighed. “But I wish I could.”

The dead drop by the river wasn’t easy to find, even if you knew where and what to look for, but after half an hour she finally found a loose stone in the riverbank wall beneath the Candleway Bridge that had been marked with a barely visible chalk mark. Behind it was a cavity large enough for a small package.

Valentina pulled out the bundle wrapped in waxcloth, which contained two sealed vials that, to her eyes at least, sparkled even through the dark glass. This was, without a doubt, exquisite quality. She slipped the vials into the inside pocket of her coat and left the riverbank as quickly as possible.

On her way down Pinfeather Lane, she glanced cautiously toward the alleyway across from her house, but no one was there.

She unlocked the front door behind her, stepped inside, locked it, and climbed the stairs to her study. She placed the vials next to her notes from Von Agrippin’s last lecture and a half-finished calculation for Professor Veilford’s seminar.

“We can start tomorrow evening,” said Vyxara.

“Yes, finally,” Valentina confirmed.