Perrin finds several high-end bakeries near the embassies. One has an Elvish name next to its common name but looks closed today.
Perrin frowns at the closed bakery and proceeds to stroll around it, interrupted only by a coughing fit that sounds suspiciously like an incantation.
His scan complete, Perrin wanders to one of the other bakeries and enjoys a tasty scone.
Perrin doesn't detect any magic.
Perrin trudges back to the inn, feeling oddly like he's wasted the morning. After almost a week of nonstop panic, it is disconcerting to have space and time to himself. Too many memories come creeping back. Without a crisis to attend to, the doctor is starting to feel more and more useless with each passing step - what does he know about unraveling a conspiracy or stopping a war? He couldn't even get through a day without adding to the mess.
And so he returns to the task he knows best - alchemy. Perrin heads up to his room and resumes work with his makeshift lab, mixing leftover reagents to form a vivid green gel. He starts experimenting in earnest, carving out new runes on a fragment of gold.
As Perrin heads back into the Badger, he sees a frazzled looking Alice working the front. She rushes in and out of the kitchen, serving patrons with a stiff smile plastered on her face.
She is clearly very worried and stressed.
When she reaches it the shop proves to be a long, spacious storefront opposite the university's main quadrangle. A sign hangs outside, depicting a large quill pen which has broken and sent ink splurting downwards to form the words "The Broken Quill" in messy pools of black. Mel does a double-take as she notices droplets of black continually dripping off the descender of the B's upright stroke and splashing on the pavement below. She studies it for a moment, then holds out one finger to catch a drop. She rubs her fingers together, and it vanishes. "An illusion!" she exclaims. "My goodness, they certainly go in for fancy signs in this town!"
"Ha ha ha," she hears someone laughing, and looks up to find a rather dapper looking old gentleman in a waistcoat with two rows of buttons smiling out at her from where he sits within the shop, through doors opened to catch the warmth of the spring breeze. "First time visitor, I see," he says, gesturing her to enter. "Come in, come in."
Mel walks into the shop, looking curiously around her as she enters. Bookshelves line the long, narrow room to either side. Directly opposite the entry, two writing desks sit back to back. One of these is empty, with an odd set of tiny stairs next to it; the other contains the white-haired and balding fellow who had greeted her.
"Greetings," he says amiably, wiping a quill on a cloth and setting it aside. He stands and takes Mel's hand in his own -- creased but strong, and permanently stained with ink about the fingers -- and bows over it. "I am Elias Branderholme, head scrivener of the Broken Quill."
She flushes a bit. "And to you," she says, retrieving her hand as soon as possible without giving offense. "Mel Elden."
"A pleasure," he says. "What can I assist you with today?"
"Well, I'm interested in buying some books," she says.
At that moment, the door to the back room opens and a shaky, unstable pile of books appears to levitate out of the back room. Mel looks at them in surprise, wondering if it's more magic. Then the entire pile rotates 90 degrees, revealing a tiny halfling woman who had stacked the books so high that nothing of her had been visible. Straining, she hoists herself up the stairs by the writing desk and deposits the entire heap on it with a resounding "Ooof!" She reaches up on tippy-toes and slaps a hand on the top of the pile to keep it from toppling over. The whole thing had to weigh at least as much as the halfling herself.
"Regina, you know you shouldn't carry that much," Elias reproved her.
"Ha! You always say that, but how else am I supposed to get any exercise in this job?" she demands, dusting her hands off. Mel notices that she too has inky fingers. "Oh, a customer!" she says brightly, smiling up at her.
"Yes, that's right. Now, young woman," Elias says. "Books are our trade, so you have come to the right place! Is there anything in particular you are looking for?"
"Elias! Aren't you going to introduce me?" Regina says, shooting him a fierce gaze.
"Ahem. Madam, this is my apprentice, Regina Thrushmoor."
"Journeywoman!"
"Journeywoman, yes, since three days ago, as I'm sure she'll tell you," he adds.
"The guildmasters said my uncial was especially fine," Regina says proudly, evidently oblivious to her master's subtle disapproval.
"Now, what were you ..."
"And they said my binding stitches were master quality already!" Regina adds eagerly.
"Regina!" Elias says, turning sternly to her, hands on his hips.
"Eep!"
"Journeywoman or not, you must learn to treat your customers with respect. Thirty quills penalty."
Her face falls. "Yes, Master Branderholme. Sorry, Master Branderholme."
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to the lady." He points at Mel.
"I apologize, ma'am," Regina says, dipping a small curtsy. "I didn't mean to be rude."
"That's quite all right," Mel assures her gravely.
"Good," says Master Branderholme. "Off to the quills, Regina."
The crestfallen halfling -- who Mel can now see is not much more than a girl -- steps down from the desk and shuffles her way back into the deeps of the shop, closing the door behind her.
"I do apologize, ma'am," he sighs, turning back to Mel. "She's a good hard worker and loves what she does, but she has yet to develop any sense of decorum."
"I once told off a professor in front of the whole class because I thought his theories were wrong," Mel says, "And spent nearly a year as his personal research assistant as a penalty. He, err, was completely right all along. He's my dissertation supervisor now. So I'm sure she'll shape up given a little time."
"Ah, a scholar," he says. "But not one of ours, oh no. I know all the scholars at the University."
"That's right," Mel says. "I'm ... visiting."
"Yes, yes, of course. Now, before anything else can come up, what may I help you with?" he asks.
"Do you by any chance have a copy of "A Geography of the World", second revised edition, by Mortimer T. Basquith? With the cartography by Lady Janvier Otranto?"
"Yes, certainly," he says. "I have an exemplar, and can write out a copy for you in about five days' time. The cartography will take longer, I'm afraid -- we have to farm that out to a third party. They do a good job, but they're slow, so it will be at least 8 days before the entire book is complete. Would you like me to begin work on that later?"
"Yes please," Mel says. "In fact, I would like to commission two copies."
His eyebrows go up. "It will be somewhat expensive," he warns her. "A hundred fifty gold per copy."
"That's fine -- I came into some money recently, and I ... err ... well, look. I checked out the copy from my home university's library on long-term loan. And then the house I had rented got burned to the ground with the book inside. So I owe them a copy. And I still want one for myself."
"How unfortunate," he murmurs. "Very well. You have caught me at a slow time, and I can begin copying it this afternoon. Is there anything else?"
"I'm also looking for a copy of A Treasury of Tales: being a compilation of folk lore from Old Feldnost, Revan, and the Troscari Wilds. Do you have that?" Mel asks.
"No," he says. "But there is a copy in the University of Helm's library, and I have permission to copy their books, in exchange for passing a portion of my fee to them. So that can be arranged."
"I'd like Regina to do it," Mel adds on a whim. "In that fancy uncial script she's so proud of."
"Oh my, her first commission as a journeyman!" he says. A proud smile lights up his face for a moment. Then it falls off his face as a thought occurs to him. "Oh dear. She's going to be insufferable."
Mel laughs. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll survive," she assures him.
"Likely. I estimate four days for the Treasury of Tales, or possibly five. She's a diligent worker, as I said, and as I recall it's a somewhat shorter text. Fifty gold."
"How will that be split, out of curiousity?" Mel asks.
"Ten percent to the University for the loan of their book. Twenty percent to Regina, as her journeyman's fee. The rest to me as her master."
"If she completes it in four days, I'll give her a bonus of five gold."
"Most generous, Madam," he says. "Is there anything else?"
"If you have any completed texts for sale, I might like to browse, but that's it for commissions," Mel says.
"Very good," he says, and sweeps his arm across the bookshelves. "These are our stock of completed books -- some we copied out ourselves, others we have purchased and are reselling. Please take as long as you like, and once you have selected any titles you wish to purchase bring them to me and we can conclude the transaction."
"Of course," Mel nods, and turns her attention to the shelves.
Most of the books lacked titles on their covers, Mel noted, though this was not surprising. She began pulling them from the shelves to check their contents. She found bestiaries, travelogues, books of heraldry, philosophical treatises, poetry long and short in four languages, miscellanies, collections of proverbs, and religious tracts and holy texts. Elias' pen scratches in the background.
It was among these last that she found one she wanted: a hefty tome bound in dark blue calfskin, whose title page identified it as the Enchiridion Pan Caelestes. Flipping through, it seemed to be an exhaustive listing of deities and demigods of all sorts. Despite the title, it seemed to include at least brief information on malevolent entities as well. Flipping through, the name Haagenti caught her eye. She quickly flipped past that spot, pretended to peruse a section on an obscure demigoddess named Feronia for a while, and finally took the book to the desk.
"Here we go," she says.
"Ah, an interesting choice," he says, setting down his pen. "I must confess, I have yet to read that one myself; we got it in trade recently, and I only glanced at it long enough to make sure it didn't contain any forbidden lore."
You may have missed some bits, Mel thinks. Out loud, she says "Very proper, I'm sure. I believe that's all for today."
"Very well. Your total comes to, let's see -- 150 twice, fifty, fifty -- four hundred gold overall."
"And the additional five if Regina finishes it in four days," Mel adds.
"Just so. And the first copy of the Geography will be done eight days from now, and the second in ten or eleven. Doing two copies at once is often a bit quicker than just one; you can copy the page twice before having to turn to a new one."
Mel hands over her letter of credit, and signs the agreement he draws up -- admiring the fine hand he writes it in as she does so. Then she thanks him, and takes her leave.
She is not surprised when, about half a block away, she can faintly make out a female voice shouting "YES! in delighted tones.
All in all, a good day, she reflects, and makes her way back to the Cozy Badger -- with a new book tucked into her backpack.
She arrives back at the Cozy Badger not far behind Perrin, and catches site of the barmaid as she enters.
Huh, she thinks. Must be a busy night or something.
Perrin starts toward the stairs but pauses, noticing Alice's state of distress. After a moment of hesitation, he turns and hurries over to her. "Hey, is everything alright?"
Mel lingers to hear what the barmaid -- Perhaps I should learn her name, Mel thinks -- has to say.
Alice sniffs back a so. "Oh um... Well... A little..." And breaks down sobbing. "It's just not like him! He wouldn't run off without telling Ma or Da!" Patrons throw her disconcerted looks as the girls breaks down in the tavern area of the inn.
Perrin glances around the tavern. "Sorry people, your food is on hold for the moment."
Then he ushers Alice into the back, spotting Mel and motioning for her to follow. "Your brother? David, right? He's missing?"
Alice nods, trying to pull herself together in the kitchen. Choking and hiccuping, she manages to say "Yes. David. Haven't seen him in a couple hours. Man and Da went to look for him. Have me stay here." She looks at the pair of you with tears welling up in her brown eyes. "He'll be ok, right?"
"Just a couple hours?" Mel says. "That's not so long. Perhaps he just lost track of time. Were you expecting him back?"
Alice sobs. "That's the thing. He wasn't supposed to be gone at all. David's never run off like that. He always asks if he can go out."
"There, there. I'm sure he'll be fine. Would you like us to go help look for him? Or if you like I could stay here and help you with the inn -- I worked as a barmaid for a while."
Perrin nods vigorously. "We'll do whatever we can to help. Where was he last seen?"
Alice looks at the both of you shyly "I wouldn't want to impose... 'Never bother the guests!' Oh but I don't care if you're bothered. Please help! Last I knew, Pa sent him into the basement to get some pickles. A few minutes later, Pa asked me if I'd seen him."
Kelian comes inside, playing a small wooden flute he picked up from the market. He stops at the sight of Alice crying and rushes over. Hearing the story, he nods vigorously. "Let's take a look around! Is there a back door he might of slipped out of?"
Alice shakes her head. "There is but Ma keeps it locked. We had a few kids snatch food or knives from the kitchen."
Kazador came in at the tail end of the conversation. "Someone missing?" He asked. "Mayhaps I can help. Whats he look like?"
"Perrin, why don't you take Kelian and Kazador and help look for the boy?" Mel suggests. "I'll help Alice keep things running smoothly here."
I never thought that side job hauling ale around as an undergrad would come in useful again, she thinks. The menu and layout of the tavern are, of course, unfamiliar, and Mel has to rely on Alice's direction much of the time, but manages to be reasonably useful.
Soon, Alice is able to breathe much more easily. An extra pair of fairly competent hands makes a big difference. Soon, food is getting out to patrons in a timely manner. Alice nods at Mel's and Kazador's words. "Yes! Please find him. He's 10 years old, about this tall, and has a lot of curly brown hair." She thinks for a second then adds a few afterthoughts while pulling bread from the oven. "Blue eyes. Freckles. Small scar on the bridge of his nose."
Scribbled in the margins of your book on demigods, you find a doodle of a herb-covered toad along with some scratchings that say the following with no other explanations or apparent organization. "Salt marsh... Serpent Isles... Immonhiel... Alchemy... Healing and goodness"
Perrin hesitates but agrees to Mel's plan. He closes his eyes and concentrates, and a moment later a small shape flits down the stairwell and settles on his shoulder. "Okay, where's the basement?" He heads where Alice points him, glancing aside at Kazador and Kelian.
”Oh thank you so much. I was so worried.” Alice points you to a flight of stone stairs leading down from the kitchen. Kelian nods and prepares to lead the way down.
You descend into a dark and cool basement that has been kept nice and tidy. Smoked hams, strings of garlic, and other preserved foods hang from the ceiling. Crates of flour, bags of oats, a barrel of salt, and other staples are stacked along the wall. At the other wall is a crate of apples, a barrel of pickles, and an immense wardrobe.
Perrin frowns and tugs at the amulet around his neck, pulling it out from under his shirt. It flickers with a bright gray flame, illuminating the dark basement. Perrin paces the area, looking around the barrels and crates for any sign of a disturbance. He pulls out his masterwork lens to check for marks and even opens the wardrobe and peers inside. Meanwhile, Ev takes flight and flutters around the edges of the room, checking for any exit or opening someone might have passed through.
Perrin finds many extra wooden trenchers, earthenware pots, iron cookware, and other containers in the wardrobe. He and Ev note that there is barely enough space behind the wardrobe that a small boy might have slid between it and the wall.
Ev squeaks back "Yes oh yes! There was a big fat spider in a web. I got it! Tasty, tasty! Lots of dust too. And a mirror, too, hanging on the wall."
"So there's apparently a... mirror on the wall behind that wardrobe. Seems like an odd spot, don't you think? Shall we try to move the wardrobe?"
Kelian shrugs. "It doesn't make sense to me either. But if that's what you want to do, then I'll get these out of the way." He starts moving plates, bowls, pots, pans, and other items out of the wardrobe onto the nearby boxes.
Alice seems to calm down somewhat now that she has help serving the customers and more people looking for her brother. She begins humming to herself then quietly and hesitantly singing
"My mother bids me bind my hair
With bands of rosy hue,
Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,
And lace my bodice blue.
"For why," she cries, "sit still and weep,
While others dance and play?"
Alas! I scarce can go or creep,
While Lubin is away.
'Tis sad to think the days are gone,
When those we love were near;
I sit upon this mossy stone,
And sigh when none can hear.
And while I spin my flaxen thread,
And sing my simple lay,
The village seems asleep or dead,
Now Lubin is away."
But by the end of the song, her mood has picked up considerably and she sings clearly and audibly, though a worried tear still rolls down her cheek from time to time.
Completely oblivious to the sounds, or even the singing, Kazador shrugged. ”Probably a secret room down here. Makes sense. Kobolds and goblins always get where they don’t belong, it’s just common sense to keep something hidden. Much here isn’t exactly top quality, but still. Enough to fool most kobolds.”
He walked over and began helping Kelian.
Mostly by himself, the stout dwarf pulls the wardrobe away from the wall. Behind it is a lot of dust and cobwebs. There is also a 6 foot tall silver mirror on the wall with carvings around its frame.
Mel waits until Alice's song is done, and then gives it a try herself:
"Where the stream runs flowing to the sea
by many a flower and spreading tree,
there lives the lad, the lad for me:
he is a handsome weaver.
Oh, I had wooers eight or nine;
they gave me rings and ribbons fine.
And I feared 'twould break this heart of mine --
so I gave it to the weaver.
My daddy signed my dowry-band
to give the lad that has the land --
but to my heart I'll add my hand
and give it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
while bees rejoice in op'ning flowers,
while corn grows green in summer showers --
I'll love my gallant weaver."
Oh good, I think I'm on key, Mel thinks. Still, singing is not really my thing.
Her song finished, Mel says "Two more pints of stout for table 3," to Alice.
Alice gives Mel a slight, shy smile, not exactly ready to be happy yet but glad to have this woman helping her out. She shouts back "I hear you!" And runs down the kitchen stairs with a couple tankards.
The mirror is a little heavy for Perrin but he successfully lifts it off the wall. He doesn't see any secret passages. Just then, footsteps are heard coming down in the basement. Alice looks at the mirror in suprise "Oh! We've never moved that big thing. It was there when Da bought the place. I had no idea that mirror was back there!" There are enough crates and barrels on either side of the wardrobe that the tight, dark space between it and the wall could go years without drawing attention.
The mirror is definitely magical. It gives off a faint aura of transmutation.
Perrin determines that this mirror has a permanent Mirror Hideaway spell cast upon it. Further, he determines that either something went wrong in the creation of this magic mirror or this is an intended feature but normal methods of ending the spell, such as moving the mirror more than 5 ft from where the spell was originally cast, would pose a great danger to any creatures currently in the mirror.
Perrin leans the mirror back against the wall and stands facing it, studying his own reflection. "Hello there." Perrin draws a shiny metallic rod from his belt, holding it up to his reflection. "You know what this is? It's an artifact of vast arcane power. But more importantly, it's a lump of metal. Show yourself, or I'll smash your mirror."
”Are ye alright lad? An artifact, here? It just looks like a mirror to me...”
The mirror doesn't say anything.
Alice pipes up "What? The mirror is a portal? What do you mean? And where's David?"
"I found an aura coming from the mirror - it's permanently enchanted as an entrance to a magic hideout. People can enter through the mirror, and whoever's in there can see us even though we can't see them. Oh, and if it breaks, bad things happen to them."
Perrin frowns and prods at the mirror's surface.
Perrin's finger passes through the mirror's surface as if it were the surface of a pond, creating ripples. But when he tries to remove it, he finds that he can't pull it backward.
Alice yelps in alarm and, hiking up her skirts, scampers back up the stairs.
Alice comes running up the stairs, breathless. She stammers out "There's something strange going on downstairs with a magic mirror!" keeping her voice low to avoid drawing the customers' attention.
"A magic mirror? Well, that sounds interesting." Mel wipes her hands on a bar cloth and troops downstairs to see Perrin standing awkwardly with his finger half way into the surface of an ornate mirror.
"Huh," she says. "So ... you think David got in there? And now you're going after him?"
Kelian shrugs. "I'm not sure what the plan is but we have to help the kid, wherever he is."
Perrin looks increasingly worried as the finger resists his attempts to remove it. "I think I'll have to go through... but I'm not sure I'll be able to come back out the same way." He looks around helplessly. "It's up to you all if you want to come with me."
Then his eyes settle on Ev and he brightens. "Wait, I can try to send a message back through the bat. We've got an emotional link. If I find David, I'll send happiness, and they can land on the apple crate. If I run into danger, I'll send fear, and they can land on the pickle barrel. And if I can't figure out how to get back I'll send confusion, and they can hang upside down."
Perrin relates these instructions to Ev, then slowly sticks the rest of his hand through the mirror and wiggles his fingers experimentally. "Oh, and don't move the mirror while I'm in there." He looks around at the others. "Sound good?"
If the others agree, he nervously steps through the mirror.
”Yer brave, I’ll give ye that. Ye do realize that ye might well be stuck...”
Perrin looks at his hand with an awkward smile. "I'm kinda already stuck, unless you'd suggest losing a few digits."
He gives half a shrug, which is the best he can manage with only one arm free. "I figure whoever made the mirror must have had some way of getting out, I've just got to find it. I don't think the spell's normally supposed to trap people, so that might be a secondary enchantment I can dispel from the inside."
"Uh, Perrin, will Ev be able to 'hear' you? I don't know if your link will work across planar ... Oh blast. There he goes."
She looks at the mirror helplessly a moment. "And now he's in a whole different plane of existence. I guess we'll have to find out if they can think at one another across planar boundaries the hard way: by experiment."