Misfortune Market: A HASEA CHRONICLES STORY (BOOK 1.5) (5 page)

An air of anticipation descended on the room as the revelers jostled each other for position. If seemed that if the market were a meal, then the auction was the main course. As the rest of the market-goers huddled in around us, I felt space becoming more limited. A Dwarf barged into me as he tried to get closer, giving me a grunt rather than an apology as he disappeared in the sea of people.

The lights in the room dimmed and weird music started to play over a hidden speaker system – a high-pitched violin mixed with the deep thump of a bass drum. A different, screeching sound preceded an old studio light being moved by some small creature squatting on rafters high above our heads, bathing the Overseer in a golden light. He stretched out his arms and let his head hang back, allowing the light to pour over him, as if it were a power source. The crowd broke into a thunderous applause and I could tell without seeing his face, that the Overseer was enjoying every moment of his adulation.

The music faded around the same time that the clapping did and the Overseer stepped forward, snapping up his cane in a theatrical movement and then gave a deep bow, sweeping his arms out to greet the entire room. “Pandemonians and Hybrids, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome to the sixty eighth annual Midsummer Market!”

Another burst of applause.

“Many of you know already know who I am,” he continued. “But for any first timers among you, my name is the Overseer. This market is mine and sprang forth from my mind many years ago. It was my desire to have a place where we could all be ourselves without fear of ramifications from the Alliance and other organisations.”

Something in his voice…it’s recognisable. Who is he?

The Overseer started to walk up and down the stage, using grand gestures and speaking in exaggerated tones. “I do hope that every single one of you is having a fantastic time. This is the place to let yourselves go, to have fun and to engage in absolute and exquisite revelry. Drink, eat, barter, fight and fuck to your hearts content. No one will try and stop you.” He raised a finger. “However, pay heed. This market operates under one simple rule. No murder without my say-so. If this rule is broken, the repercussions will be severe.” The Overseer placed the side of his gloved hand against his doll face, as if he were about to share a secret. “Unless you spot a Chosen of course.”

The crowd gave a raucous laugh. I couldn’t tell if the Overseer was being serious or not – it seemed that he was all about the theatrics – but it unnerved me regardless. Looking around at the others I could see that they felt exactly the same. We were vastly outnumbered, and by looking at a lot of the things on sale around us – outgunned.

The Overseer continued his performance piece, capturing the attention of every person in the market. A hidden microphone made gave his voice power and it filled the room as he continued to speak. For everything else he was, I had to admit that the man could hold a crowd. In contrast to his flamboyant Punch and Judy act, the Devil remained deathly silent and still – poised and waiting for an opportunity, like a well trained attack dog.

“You are all here for different reasons. Some of you came here to partake in activities that would otherwise be restricted,” he said. “Others are here to purchase weapons or items that would land you in White Mercy if you tried to obtain them through other means.” He leaned forward. “But a few of you…
a few of you are the elite. You came here for a different reason entirely. To acquire the
special
items…the ones that require a special kind of currency. You came here for the auction.” 

He emphasized the last word and a hushed stillness fell over the crowd. There was now no doubt that this was the most important aspect of the market, the reason that many people travelled from what was likely all around the world on a single day in June.

The Overseer continued to walk along the stage, tapping his cane in rhythmic patterns on the worn wood. “The auction house will open in precisely one minute. Those who have not yet procured their notching coins are unfortunately out of luck.”

A growl of frustration came from a few yards in front and the Dwarf who had barged past shoved his way back through the crowd, heading away from the stage.
Guess he didn’t manage to get his notching coin,
I thought.
Whatever the hell that is.
I glanced at Gabriella and gave a small shrug. In response she slyly pulled out her Biomote and got to work.

“Those of you who have picked up your coins are in for a treat.” He leaned forward. “Behind me sits the
finest,
the
most unusual,
and of course the most
illegal
items available in the two worlds
.”
There were a few sounds of curiosity, but in general the crowd watched with raptured silence. “To bid, simply raise your coin in the air an state your coin number. You may bid on more than one auction, however I would advise against it. Too many notches can be hard to accommodate to all but the most connected.” The Overseer’s voice lowered and I could imagine him giving a genuine menacing smile behind his sinister mask’s fake one. “And I always collect my debts.”

Gabriella nudged my arm and tapped the Biomote with a fingernail. I glanced down at the information display.

Notching (as a method of debt repayment):

Notching is an antiquated (and illegal) method of payment. Traditionally a lender offers a malleable coin at the same time as a desired service or loan. Notches are made with a knife around the edges of the coin (or coins if the debt is large). At the point of trade, the number of ‘notches’, what each notch represents and the timescale of repayment are agreed upon by both parties. In most cases a single notch will represent a monetary value, piece of information, or a return service. The metaphorical severity of each notch depends of the value of the goods or service originally offered. A record of the notch is typically kept in a ledger by the lender, and the coin itself represents the record for the recipient. Each time a service or monetary amount is offset, a notch is added to the coin, until the total is reached and the debt is repaid.

I finished reading and Gabriella showed the others.
That makes sense now.
I was beginning to get the impression that whoever this Overseer was; he was very dangerous.

The Overseer pulled a pocket watch from a fraying pocket on the front of his suit. The chain glinted in the focused lighting that came from the spotlight on the rafters. He was silent for a beat, before loudly announcing, “I now declare the Auction open! Griwal please reveal today’s exciting lots.”

The Overseer gestured to one of the Oni guards. The obedient creature walked over to a long piece of frayed rope at the rear of the stage and gave it a yank. The curtains slid open, revealing a number of auction lots. Only one of the lots remained hidden – a second purple curtain about twenty inches long connected to another rope. It was curved around the unrevealed object - and that object was about the size of a single person.

Andrea.

Next to me I felt Gabriella tense up as she drew the same conclusion. “How the hell are we supposed to get her without alerting everyone in here?” she whispered. Her question was followed by tense silence. None of us had the answer.

A split second later, a raucous round of applause broke out among the crowds as they took in what was for sale. The Overseer raised his hands and everyone fell silent. He gestured towards the Devil. “Zaris - my esteemed colleague - would you be so kind as to fetch me lot number one?”

As if the Overseer’s words had breathed the fearsome creature to life, he jerked his head upright and moved over to the back of the stage.  He picked up a wooden box that had been placed on a pedestal and moved back until he was standing next to the Overseer once more. With a deft swipe of his thumb claw, he unlatched the lock and the box cranked open. The Devil held it up at an angle so that everyone in the crowd could see its contents.

Inside the box was a bed of hay, supporting a long dagger that gleamed in a rainbow of colours under the dim light of the market. Most of the blade was stained with dark blue blood.

“Pandemonians and Hybrids, what you see before you here is none other than the Diamond Blade that was used to kill Prince Ashan when The Sorrow and its followers stormed his palace.” A wave of excited chatter spread around the room. I saw some of the market-goers shift uncomfortably.
They must be Luminar.

“Such a valuable and unique item will no doubt appeal to the discerning collectors among you, or for any merchants here, will no doubt fetch an almost immeasurable resale value with the right buyer. Therefore, we will start the bidding at four notches.”

A sea of tarnished coins was raised skywards, as the owners shouted the numbers etched on the rough surface of their metal. The Overseer marched up and down the stage, pointing at various sections of the crowd as the price of the macabre item rose steadily upwards.”

“Four notches to number eleven.”

“Six to number three.”

“Eight to eighteen.”

“Ten notches to number twenty-two.”

The auction kept going until coins began to shrink from the air. After a few more seconds of quick-fire auctioneering the lot came to a close. The Overseer pointed at what seemed to be a female Luminar of some kind – I recognised her slight frame and long hair that spilled from the back of her mask. She had been one of the revelers who had been dancing in a trance-like state to the band’s woeful music. She seemed far more somber and subdued now, expect for a tremor in her coin free hand, which she seemed to be struggling to suppress.

“Sold for sixteen notches to number thirty-nine. Congratulations. Please approach the side of the stage and speak to one of my associates to confirm the assignment of your notches and collect your lot.”

A pattering of light applause rolled around the room, which accompanied a number of folded arms and no doubt scowls hidden behind masks, as comedown girl made her way unsteadily through the crowd and towards the edge of the stage. As the Luminar reached the Skinshifter - who held a large, black book in his equally large hand - she slipped off her mask, revealing all of her golden hair and her species as an Elf – and I saw that her eyes were glistening with tears.

Something snagged inside my heart.
She isn’t going to sell that dagger. She sold herself into debt with the Overseer so that she could claim the item that killed someone she idolized.
The sadness of the situation was made worse when the Elf stared down at the box for a long, silent moment before replacing her mask and disappearing back into the masses.

“What an excellent start to the auction!” declared the Overseer, hunching his shoulders and leaning over on his cane. “An iconic piece of Pandemonian heritage has no doubt found a suitable home.”

“What should we do?” I whispered to Gabriella. “We can’t let them get away with just selling Andrea.”

“I know, but we have to see how this plays out. If we go in now, we are as good as dead.”

The crowd started to talk among themselves, a buzz of chatter that fell over the room like a blanket of noise. It ceased immediately when the Overseer rapped his cane loudly on the stage. “Zaris, please fetch lot number two.”

The Devil walked to the back of the stage once more to collect the next item, which was the shape of a small bell jar and covered in a purple cloth. Zaris carried it with both hands, using care that contradicted his rough appearance and harsh movements, suggesting something extremely volatile lay underneath the covering.

“Those sensitive to light might want to cover their eyes at this moment,” warned the Overseer. He nodded to Zaris and a split second later a blinding glow filled my eyes, causing spots to appear in my vision that took several seconds to fade. The rest of my team were recovering, rubbing at their eyes and shaking their heads. There were sounds of distress from the crowd – especially from Bloodseekers, who made loud hissing sounds and crouched down as they recovered.

“I did warn you,” chuckled the Overseer as Zaris replaced the cloth. In the split-second before I had been rendered sightless, I had seen what sat inside the jar.

Ignus Fatuus.

The deadly, parasitic non-sentient organism was better known as a Will O’ Wisp. I had never seen one in real life, but my handbook was filled with details about them. They were spiked balls about the size of a conker case; their colour as dark as night, yet somehow they were able to give off a searing light that could cause permanent blindness if stared at for too long. But that wasn’t the worst part by far. If released from its glass prison, the wisp would track towards the nearest living being and explode – releasing a spray that could melt the skin from the bones of almost any creature within a fifteen foot radius.  Unless the remains were burned, two
Ignus Fattus
would eventually emerge – a deadly and indiscriminate form of reproduction. Possession of one was beyond stupid – and not to mention highly illegal.

No wonder he was being so careful with it.

“This beautiful specimen was captured at the cost of three lives. It will make a very impressive ornament, or…a fantastic weapon with which to settle old scores. With that in mind, we shall begin the bidding at seven notches.”