“White Kingdom as well. Sandymount myself.” Stef tapped his shoulder. “No dark magic markets near the Reliquary, aye?”
“Had your fair share in the Southerlands?”
“Nay.” Stef frowned. “Ken I hadn’t really thought about it though. Been gone sixty-odd years now. Another lifetime.”
Jesstin didn’t have time for a trip down that lane. “I’ve been to one. In Rivenholde, a village in the Seven Sisters. Heard of it?”
Stef shook his head. “Met plenty from the Sisters here though. Always a bit cagey, them.” He snorted. “Ken they’re better than everyone, when they’re just as dead, just as stuck.”
“Didn’t like ’em either.”
“Delusional to boot. Most believe they came from another world, not another region. Mountainfolk.” Stef lifted his brows to affirm his claim. “Delusional,” he said again.
“Don’t believe them?”
“Aye, there are other worlds, learned that well enough down here. Or are we ‘down’? Are we under the world? Beside it? Atop it?” Stef’s brows coalesced in genuine puzzlement. “Seven Sisters are in the White Kingdom though. Anyone with eyes knows that.”
So Jesstin had believed as well, until he’d been there. “Tell me about these sepulchral markets. What can they do with time and distance?”
“Forum Obscura. You can find one anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“When you need it.”
“There’s no sense in anything you just said.”
“You’ll see. Walk out this door, think of Forum Obscura, and before long you’ll come upon a sign showing you the way.” Stef said good-bye to a small group who were leaving. “I can’t recommend it though. I don’t trifle with dark magic, and neither should you.”
“Tell me what you do know,” Jesstin replied.
“They...” Stef said after a nervous pause. “Have trackers and mirrors. They’ve made a deal with time and distance, some say.”
“Trackers and mirrors?” Jesstin glanced toward the wide-open doors. The sun was brilliant and welcoming beyond. A good omen, as Sesto would say.
“I wouldnae trust any of it. The cost will always be higher than the reward.” Stef’s hand traveled to his flame. “The dealer always comes out ahead. Nothing in there can be bought without losing a piece of yourself.”
“Been losing pieces of myself my whole life. That doesn’t scare me.”
Stef didn’t crack a grin. “It should. Here, it should.”
“I better get a move on, if the daylight does whatever the hell it wants here.”
“Just follow the road, mate, aye? The signs to the archives? Forget the market. Signs will get ye where ye need to go. Plenty of havres and cloisters along the way.”
He wasn’t getting anything else out of Stef. “I’ll do that.”
“Oh! And the trouble with daylight... There’s a trick to staying safe. The signs above the havres and cloisters, you know ’em? The symbols?”
Jesstin nodded.
“You’ll find them along the roads too, in the stones themselves. The number beneath them is the steps to find the nearest one. See twilight coming, look down before ye look forward. A hundred steps, you’re close enough, might could walk. A thousand, hope ye like running. Follow those if you see the sun dying. Much of the time, we get a full day, but others, we’re lucky to sneak an hour of warmth and light. Never stray too far from the stones.”
“Appreciate the tip, and the information.” Jesstin started toward the door.
“You’re a necromancer, aren’t ye?” Stef called.
“What makes you say that?” Jesstin glanced over his shoulder.
