Chapter 1.13 - In which Percy's luck turns AND Chapter 1.14 - In which Percy's luck turns

This post contains 2 chapters.

Percy

Month 9, Day 28, Tuesday 8:05 a.m.

Viv introduced Percy to the kitchen staff, who were so busy rushing around that they barely had time to greet him.

The kitchen was run largely off magic, filled with the kinds of time-saving artifacts his mother would love but that the Irving family certainly couldn’t afford. They were better off than a large portion of the population, but Mom had come from a prosperous family before she married Dad. She felt not being able to have the nicest things in a way that Percy and his siblings didn’t, even if she would never say so out loud.

Percy was set to washing fancy and delicate ceramic, crystal, and glass dinnerware. He paid blisteringly close attention to each movement, working at a speed that was frankly terrifying in an attempt to keep up with the influx of dirty dishes. He broke nothing.

When the midday shift changed, he was set to polishing silverware and folding soft napkins into various appealing shapes. When he had just gotten the hang of that, he was pulled away to artfully arrange appetizers on tiny plates, over the top of which he drizzled a contrasting-colored sauce in a pattern that the Eastern chef was very particular must be perfect. “Presentation. Is. Everything,” the wiry old man wearing some sort of bubble spell over his face and hair said gravely.

Percy nodded back even more solemnly, his face set in a scowl of intense concentration.

“Taste is also important,” the chef added belatedly as he watched Percy. “But it is ruined by poor presentation. Some advice, if you wish to stay here? Get your uniform tailored, boy.”

Percy tried to explain that he was only helping out for the day, but the man had already moved on.

Viv drew Percy aside for a lunch break in the back, where a random buffet of food was provided free from extras and leftovers, including imperfect dishes that could not be served to the customers for reasons that were apparent to the others but totally indiscernible to Percy.

He ate: a purple lobster claw dipped in a spicy, buttery sauce that contained shiny flakes that looked like gold, but couldn’t have been because that was frankly ridiculous; a tiny salad made of leaves of three different colors and arranged around a bouquet of carrots and radishes carved into the shapes of delicate flowers; a pan-fried fish steak seared to golden perfection, drizzled with a sweet sauce, and sprinkled with precisely seven tiny pink petals; and a braid of cheesy, garlicky bread so fluffy it resembled a cloud.

It tasted better than anything the pastry shop had produced.

Becoming adventurous, Percy even tried one of the slices of raw fish laid over a wedge of tightly packed rice. It tasted…good, but the texture made it impossible not to think about exactly where the meat had come from, and he shuddered.

He took a bite of a green paste, and almost screamed as a burning sensation raged through his mouth, somehow traveling out through his nose as he exhaled. Several of the other employees on break laughed at him, but they were quick enough to give him some yak milk yogurt—which sounded disgusting but was actually wonderful—to soothe his abused palate.

Percy had never imagined the decadence of true luxurious dining. While he wasn’t sure that the meals were worth the exorbitant prices paid by the customers, it was undeniable that the Kaiseki Ryori—and how did one even pronounce that name?—was a quality restaurant.

When the dinner shift started, Percy was put back on dishes, and he worked until the evening rush began to die down, so exhausted that he swayed on his aching feet.

Viv pulled him away from the sink, dropped two gold coins into his hand with a wink, and told him to come back tomorrow if he still wanted a job.

Percy walked home in a daze, but met no consequences for his lack of attention.

He ran into their neighbor Mara at the end of their street, and they walked together the rest of the way. “Did you hear about that girl who stole from the University?” she asked. “She struck again!”

Percy almost tripped. “What?”

“She broke into Harrow Hill and almost freed her accomplice!”

“Her father? Was she caught?”

“No, she escaped. I heard she tried to fly him out on a giant raven, but the guards shot it down with spells and it unraveled into nothingness.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “Impressive. Was anyone hurt?”

Mara shook her head. “No. Her spell must not have had any offensive capability.”

“Or she just didn’t want to hurt anyone.” If she was really so powerful, she probably could have harmed him or the coppers that had been trying to capture her. But other than some sand and irritants in people’s soft tissues, everyone had escaped from their encounters with her unscathed, as far as he knew.

Mara rolled her eyes. “Percy, you’re too naive, always thinking the best of everyone.”

Percy briefly considered mentioning that he had met Siobhan Naught, but decided against it.

When he got home, he learned that Dad had found no luck at the copper station. The man seemed grim and somewhat distracted during dinner as Percy regaled his family with tales of his day.

Aethelwulf begged for their parents to take the family out to dinner at the Kaiseki Ryori. “It’s my birthday soon. Can’t we? Please, Mom? Please?”

Mom smacked the top of Aethelwulf’s head, the motion seeming harsh but the actual blow so glancing that it only ruffled her daughter’s hair. “You might as well ask me to mold you a meal out of pure silver! Who do you think we are? We can’t afford to eat at a place like that.”

Aethelwulf pouted.

Lysander smirked at her.

“Do they have any dragon meat?” Gideon asked. “I heard you can breathe fire if you eat dragon meat.”

“No, stupid. You don’t eat the meat. You drink a fire-breathing potion, which is ninety percent dragon spit!” Lysander crowed. “Gideon wants to drink dragon spit!”

“No, I don’t!” the boy protested, his fist tight around the handle of his fork. “I never wanted to drink dragon spit. You—you stupid pooper head!”

Mom sighed so deeply it seemed like she would actually deflate, dropping her head into her hands.

“Children,” Dad said wearily. “Please don’t argue at the table.”

“Who wants to hear about the longest noodle in the world?” Percy asked quickly. “I saw it today.”

Lysander snorted at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How long is it?” Gideon asked, immediately distracted.

“It’s the longest in the world,” Aethelwulf said wisely. “So, like, this long?” She stretched her arms out to either side, looking at Percy for feedback.

“Way, way longer than that.”

Gideon’s mouth fell open, displaying the half-eaten food within.

“Bullshit,” Lysander said.

Mom slapped the table hard enough to make their food jump, her head still hanging.

Lysander swallowed. “I mean, I don’t believe it,” she amended, and then quickly followed up with, “Tell us about this noodle, Percy!” She gave him a slightly crazed grin, her eyes pleading.

Percy raised an eyebrow and considered staying silent, but instead he reached over to close Gideon’s mouth with a finger on his chin, then jumped into the story before Mom could look up. No scoldings were given or punishments doled out.

Percy wrestled with the offer to return to the Kaiseki Ryori for half the night, but woke certain. He returned, confirmed his ongoing employment, and received a schedule working the morning shift a few days per week. Over the next few weeks, his mom tailored two sets of the uniform to fit him more neatly, and Percy discovered the wonders of competence.

The city settled slightly as the school term started and those who had been temporary visitors or unaccepted applicants to the Thaumaturgic University departed.

When the restaurant was short a server, Percy was forced out onto the floor after a crash course in the fancy tricks they required. He was terrified and tried to argue, sure that he was about to lose his job.

But he didn’t break anything. More than that, he didn’t even spill the water when he poured it from much too high, grind pepper into anyone’s eyeballs, or slip and grate off a few slices of his own skin instead of the fancy mushrooms.

He learned how to clean tables like he was dancing, sprinkle salt by bouncing it off of his own elbow, and de-shell tender white and pink shrimp with three moves, without ever touching them with his fingers.

Percy could throw a glass up and behind his back and catch it without looking.

Dad continued to liaise with the local coppers, but each time he came home frustrated and increasingly defeated. He secured an appointment with a cursebreaker, who found nothing wrong with Percy or his new tattoo. At that point, Dad redoubled his efforts with Percy’s training, but began to seem almost hopeful.

And Percy, despite the pessimism he had learned from long experience, found himself relieved by this.

Whether or not the tattoo was related—as it seemed—he didn’t believe that the talisman had been powerless. How could he, when his life had changed so much?

“Maybe it was actually a fortunate encounter,” Dad said. “You didn’t promise the hag anything beside that single gold coin, did you?”

Percy thought hard. “I didn’t.”

“If she ever appears again, be respectful. But careful.”

Percy pointed playfully and winked at Dad. “Don’t worry. I remember all the stories.” He and the others had been raised on children’s tales about all the ways things that seemed too good to be true could go horribly, horribly wrong. Greed was a sin even more dangerous than pride.

Percy almost didn’t notice the transformation happening inside him at first, but small things made it apparent. At the restaurant, he stopped flinching when someone passed a little too close to him while carrying something fragile, or worrying about his hair or clothing catching on fire near the kitchen’s open flames, and he was able to smile sincerely at the customers without the premonition that he was about to ruin their very expensive meal.

When a well-muscled dog that had escaped from its owner raced down the street toward Percy, he braced himself in case it might knock him off his feet. He did not, however, frantically look for a tree or carriage to climb on top of in fear of a rabid attack.

He kept track of all his emergency supplies but didn’t have to use them.

He even walked home alone at night a few times without getting lost. One time, he met a suspicious-looking man and was prepared for all of his endurance practice to come in handy as he out-ran a mugger, but the man simply nodded to Percy and walked right past. This incident was also when he realized he’d developed a habit of rubbing the tattoo on his left wrist whenever he was nervous.

Percy began to notice green flags on street corners in certain areas of the city. Apparently, one of the local gangs, the Verdant Stags, were creating some sort of alarm system where the people in their territory could call in gang enforcers to help during crimes or other emergency situations.

Dad didn’t like gangs on principle. Mom, however, reasoned that they were already in Morrow territory, if on the nice edge of it. If they couldn’t afford to live somewhere that the coppers patrolled frequently, then it would be better to live where someone would take responsibility. And so, perhaps they should consider moving into Verdant Stag territory instead.

“It’s not the optimal location you think, Love,” Dad said. “Even if the Verdant Stags really are as pleasant as they’re trying to make themselves seem, that’s a problem itself. The Morrows and the other gangs are not going to like the Verdant Stags trying to make themselves seem so desirable. And we don’t want to get caught between the two if things escalate, which seems to be the direction it’s going.”

That weekend, Percy took the younger three out to the market to give Mom some time to relax. And even though they mingled with the crowd to watch one of the street shows, no one even tried to pickpocket him.

Chapter 1.14 – In which Percy knows relief

Percy

Month 10, Day 24, Sunday 3:00 p.m.

On a subsequent weekend, Percy walked with Mom and the younger kids in the park. The place was a little muddy, a little small, and almost an hour north of their house, but the kids had begged. None were used to the cramped, crowded nature of a big city. Before, even if their house had been small, the entire town and the surrounding land were their playground.

Mom had woven them all hand nets, appropriate for catching bugs or small fish, and the kids were skipping around and waving them everywhere, excited to try their luck in the park’s many streams and ponds.

Ducks paddled happily through the water, and flocks of mean-eyed geese huddled together and eyed the pedestrians threateningly. Percy stared the geese down, careful to walk between them and his siblings. He’d been attacked by geese several times when he was smaller. Their wings were powerful enough to bruise, and being bitten on the face was terrifying and painful.

But though the geese slept with one eye open—literally—and a few made threatening noises toward their group, none attacked.

Lysander looked at the grey sky, then tossed her curls over one shoulder and sighed heavily. “I wish it would rain,” she muttered.

Percy automatically glanced back toward Mom to ensure she had brought umbrellas. It would be miserable to walk home in a sudden sleet storm, frozen to the bone. Mom wasn’t even listening, though, an old and worn book held open in one hand as she settled herself at the base of a tree. “Don’t go too far,” she called idly.

As they approached the edge of a stream, Percy placed his feet with meticulous care to avoid slipping down the shallow bank.

“I’m gonna catch a huge fish for dinner!” Gideon shrieked, jumping directly onto a patch of mud. Percy’s hand flashed out to catch his little brother by the arm, but the boy’s sudden slip took him out of Percy’s reach.

But Gideon didn’t fall. He wobbled a little and continued on with another hop down to the water’s edge. The grin never left his face. He hadn’t even noticed the danger.

Standing at the edge of the water, Lysander grimaced at the mud already crusting up on her shoes, hugging her arms against the cold and scowling at everything. “I’m not eating any fish you get out of this water,” she said.

“Because of the poop?” Aethelwulf asked, holding up a snail by its shell and trying to peer inside as the creature withdrew to safety. “We should be far enough north that no one pooped in the water yet, right? Mara from down the street said the water doesn’t get really dirty until at least halfway through the city.” Aethelwulf tentatively stuck out her tongue and licked the snail, the tip of her tongue pushing into the shell’s opening.

Gideon and Lysander both made exaggerated expressions of disgust, but Gideon immediately picked up a snail of his own, looked between Percy and Aethelwulf, and proudly poked the filthy creature with his tongue. He squealed and tossed the snail back into the stream with a giggle. “Gross!”

Percy shuddered and wondered if he should warn them about picking up an illness. But if Mom wasn’t protesting, it was probably fine.

“Stars above, you two are disgusting,” Lysander said, but the edges of her lips were twitching. Her eyes snapped to the water by her feet, and before anyone could react, her net had flashed down and scooped up a fish the size of Percy’s big toe. She grinned brightly.

All three of Percy’s younger siblings turned toward him.

Percy was frozen in an overextended lunge, his arm outstretched toward Lysander. He hadn’t even consciously chosen to move. He lowered his outstretched arm, wobbling a little as his feet slipped on the mud and water-smoothed stones. “Sorry. I thought you were falling.”

Lysander rolled her eyes, then crouched down to lower the net far enough into the water that her fish could breathe. “Look,” she said, nodding at Gideon. “He’s too tiny to eat. And he’s probably full of little bones that would get stuck in your throat.”

“And poop. He’s full of poop,” Aethelwulf added wisely.

Gideon nodded seriously. “I guess we have to go out into the ocean water if we want any good, big fish.”

The girls shared a look over Gideon’s head, roguish smiles growing on their faces simultaneously. There was a reason that wealthy Gilbrathans didn’t eat anything that had been sourced from the Charybdis Gulf, where many of the city’s canals emptied.

Mom spoke up without even looking up from her book. “If my youngest child suddenly develops a phobia of seafood—one of the cheapest, most readily available forms of protein in this city—I will be forced to have a talk with someone.”

Both girls shut their mouths immediately, smiles flattening like pancakes.

Gideon frowned, pointing to himself in confusion. “I’m the youngest. What’s a fowbia?”

Lysander cleared her throat. “Oh, look, Gideon. A frog,” she said with exaggerated nonchalance. “Did you know you can eat frog legs? Supposedly they taste like chicken.”

“And you can use their skin in potions,” Gideon added sagely. “But…”—he sighed deeply and shook his head like a world-weary old man—“potions never taste like chicken.”

Percy inched closer to the water’s edge and squatted down carefully to drag his own net through the water, though at least half of his attention remained up and searching for sudden danger. He raised his free hand to the back of his head, which pulsed with a phantom ache as he remembered how easy it was to get hit with a poorly-thrown ball.

A flash of light in his net caught his eye, and he pulled out a few twigs and soggy leaves to reveal a silver crown coin.

Gideon’s eyes widened. “There’s coins in the water?”

Percy laughed, then reached over and tucked the silver into Gideon’s jacket pocket. “Maybe a couple here and there.”

The little boy cackled like a villain, then dropped down to scoop his net through the mud in search of anything that sparkled. Despite the cold, and the wet, and the danger of slipping and smashing their heads on a rock, all three of the younger kids grinned and laughed as they played around Percy.

Percy was jerked out of a pleasant daydream as a frog jumped by. Without even thinking, his hand flashed up and caught it out of the air. “Does it really taste like chicken?” While the kids watched, wide-eyed, he opened his mouth wide and pretended he was going to eat it.

Mom cleared her throat with perfect timing, and while the kids were distracted, Percy let the frog escape back into the water. By the time the other three had looked back to Percy, his cheeks were puffed out with air as he pretended to chew. With an exaggerated gulp, he swallowed. “Yep. Exactly like chicken. Except raw.”

Lysander smirked and rolled her eyes while Aethelwulf and Gideon squealed with delighted disgust and immediately started regaling each other and Mom with retellings of Percy’s feat, even though it had only happened five seconds ago.

Percy did his best to hold back laughter.

Mom smiled with him and gave him a wink.

Percy realized that he hadn’t flinched for at least ten minutes. Nothing had gone wrong. Maybe nothing was going to go wrong. He watched his younger siblings frolic, and didn’t worry that any of them would be hurt.

When he moved, he was careful, but his muscles weren’t tense and tight across his shoulders and the back of his neck, ready to save himself from a fall.

He stopped watching the sky for falling bird poop and flying balls.

The geese weren’t going to attack, and if they did, it would be easy enough to run away.

Percy stood and looked slowly from Mom to each of his siblings, cataloguing the absolute lack of fear on their faces. Was this what life was like for everyone else…all the time? Was this what it felt like to have no need to be constantly, exhaustingly, on guard? No need to expect a nasty surprise hiding under every good thing?

Percy was smiling, and when he felt the water run down his cheeks, his first thought was that it had begun to rain. But the water was warm, and when some passed his lips, he tasted salt.

Percy hurriedly wiped away the tears.

“Are you okay?” Aethelwulf asked, her net full of snails hanging forgotten at her side.

Lysander frowned at him. “Did you get hurt again?”

Percy cleared his throat past the lump in it, and when he smiled, it was genuine. “Oh, I’m fine. There was…some wind. I just got some dust in my eyes,” he said, waving his hand vaguely.

Aethelwulf and Lysander returned to their play without another thought. They never assumed he might be lying, because it was normal for Percy to have such tiny and constant misfortunes. Or it had been.

As time passed, even while Percy reveled in his new-found luck—his sheer normalcy, the freedom that suddenly seemed to spread around every unseen corner and wait on every untraveled road—he also couldn’t help the lingering trepidation that all of this was just a fluke.

He could wake up one day, and suddenly everything would be back to normal.

That was why he hadn’t bought the Vista 500 yet, despite having saved up enough coin. He needed to be able to pay to have protective enchantments placed on the artifact, too. And though thaumaturges were more common in Gilbratha than most places, they were still relatively rare. Magic was expensive.

But, as Percy rubbed his tattoo, he wondered if, just maybe, it would be safe to buy the Vista 500 now.

“No, no, don’t be stupid. What if you break her?” he muttered to himself. But he did so with a smile.