I was relating our first meeting with Veronica when the barmaids brought us an after-dinner sweet of crushed nuts and some kind of red fruit. When they came back to take the dishes away, I was telling Jacques about our encounter with the Arcanist in the square, just before we arrived at the tavern.
“Ah, yes,” said Jacques, wagging his head sagely as I told of that encounter, “old Maximillian the Arcanist.”
“What’s he here for?” I asked.
Jacques gave an elaborate shrug. “Who knows? The Arcanists come here now and again, of course, and they collect taxes from the trading house, and have meetings with the Brightwater Governor. Governor Arnold, that is, do you know him? No? A good fellow, Arnold is, very amenable, very understanding of the challenges a man can face in a new town…” He trailed off, thoughtfully, and I guessed that this Governor Arnold was probably a man whom Jacques was able to bribe. The Governor would, if paid, likely turn a blind eye to tavern brawling, the selling of stolen or illegal goods, and cheating at gambling, all of which would suit Jacques well.
“You never change, do you, old friend?” I said with a grin.
He opened his hands and smiled innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I chuckled under my breath.
“Anyway,” he continued after a moment, “this Ink Mage business really is something special. To think that something as uncouth as a tattoo could act as a magical vector for a man with an affinity. It’s marvelous, and it opens up a whole new set of possibilities for the uses of Magic in the Kingdom!”
“You don’t find the tattoos disgusting, then?” put in Amelia.
Veronica spoke up. “I wondered the same. I’ve traveled in the south of the Kingdom a lot, and tattoos are almost universally detested there. But some of the people in this tavern showed approval when they first saw them, and even the ones who disapproved didn’t seem to care that much.”
Amelia was nodding to her words.
“I don’t find them disgusting,” said Jacques, “and I think this far north you’ll find that the tastes of people are a bit different from the southern cities of Aranor and Astros. I’m from the Sunlands originally, of course, and that’s a two-week journey by boat west of the Kingdom. They view things differently there. In the Sunlands, tattoos are considered a mark of beauty. I’ve never heard of the use of Magical tattoos—indeed, magic is seldom used in the Sunlands—but the creation of tattoos is a highly refined art in that land. In Zelin, where I was a boy, behaviors were acceptable that would kill some of you Kingdom prudes dead with shock!”
Amelia and Veronica were staring at Jacques with wide eyes, lapping up his story. I sat back and smiled, watching him play to his audience of two as he described the brothels and drug-dens, the palaces and pleasure-houses, and all the decadent ways of living which were the norm in Zelin, port capital of the western Sunlands. Jacques was an artist when it came to spinning a tale and even I, who had heard it all before, got caught up in the telling.
When he finished speaking nostalgically about his home, he sat back thoughtfully for a moment, then returned to my tale.
“I can’t believe those cheap bastards in the village sold you for a bit of coin, William,” Jacques mused.
“Well, I suppose you could see it like that,” I said. “But I don’t blame them really. It’s always been hard to get by in that place.”
“You’re telling me,” Jacques said, his tone indignant. “Aranor consumes a lot and doesn’t really give back to the villages supporting it. I haven’t looked back once since leaving that city. But about those tattoos. You got one of them in Aranor if I’m not wrong. With that girl, what was her name?”
“Katlyn,” I said. “I gave us both tattoos. It seemed like a fun idea at the time. I had no idea what it would lead to.”
“Well, maybe you can give me a tattoo when you have some ink spare, old chap.” Jacques reached across the table and clapped my shoulder with a laugh. “I may not have a magical affinity, but the tattoos look pretty smart all the same; they’re growing on me.”
I laughed too. Jacques got up and went to the bar to order yet another round. The tavern was quite full, and the barmaids were busy with other patrons.
“I have to say, William,” Jacques began as he returned carrying four full mugs, “I’m glad you escaped from Aranor. That place was never much good, not for someone with potential like you. To think, here you are with me, ready to join the fight for freedom.”
I chuckled. “You mean the freedom to swindle workers of their earnings to line your pockets?”
Jacques put his hand on his heart and drew back, head back, eyes closed, making a comical show of being appalled and offended. “You dare suggest such a thing? I don’t just line my pockets. I sometimes help people out with my ill-gotten gains.”
Everyone laughed at his clowning, and he joined in, pleased as ever with his showmanship.
“I’m sure you do, Jacques,” I said. “Ever the friend to the underdog. So tell me, how did you end up in Brightwater? What have you been up to since you left Aranor?”
“Too many things to tell in a night, lad,” he said. “But I went to Astros first. I had to leave Aranor, things had become impossible for me there. The women of the place, they wouldn’t believe that I’d sold my lovemaking abilities to Loku in exchange for good fortune. It caused me all kinds of trouble. Lord’s wives, bar
