Guild of Tokens, Trainee
Part 2
Editor’s Note: As discussed in the June 2022 open thread, I am doing a bit of a reorganization of the posting schedule now that we have come to the end of Guild of Tokens. To sum it up, here is the general monthly schedule going forward (and please see the open thread for more details):
Weekly
Wednesday: Comics
Friday: Fiction (new Guild of Magic chapters for paid and free tier subscribers)
Monthly
Tuesday: Interview/Building a readership series/behind-the-scenes-post
Thursday: Open thread
Floating: Monthly wrap-up
Today and next Monday, you’re getting parts 2 and 3 of a short story starring everyone’s favorite morally gray mentor, Beatrice Taylor, entitled Trainee.
The subway car was crowded. Beatrice hated riding the subway, and normally she wouldn’t be caught dead riding it during the morning rush. But that wouldn’t do for today’s errand, as Beatrice had decided to bring Kate along to get her some on-the-ground training. She also wanted to see how the girl’s skills measured up first-hand, to see how she was progressing.
They had met up near the W. 4th Street station, and it was two transfers in before the crowds thinned enough before Beatrice felt comfortable talking shop out in public.
“Today’s raid should be simple,” she said. “We get there, buy the requested items, and get the hell out of there before we run into anyone else.”
“Why’s it called a raid?” Kate asked. The girl’s chipper demeanor had returned, and Beatrice suppressed the urge to roll her eyes before answering.
“Because it’s meant for a group. The task is harder, but the reward greater. Also the members of the Council must have all played Everquest back in the day and they think they’re being cute.”
“What’s Everquest? Some sort of match-3 puzzle?”
“Never mind. How is your research coming?”
She had sent Kate deep into the bowels of one of the NYU libraries, ostensibly for a paper for her American history class, but actually to transcribe a set of rare 18th century manuscripts. Beatrice had tried multiple times to get access to the same collection without any luck, but Kate’s request had been granted within days. It was one of the reasons she now liked using college students as her trainees: no one took them that seriously. Plus they helped push her wares without her having to hang out in Washington Square Park all day.
“Good! I’ve been indexing the Valley Forge journals. The library’s records are pretty terrible, so it’s slow going, but after that’s done I’ll cross-reference those with the entries in Rita’s diary and hopefully that should give us some insight into what-”
“Excellent progress,” Beatrice said, cutting off the girl before she could start blabbing too much about the project. She wasn’t the paranoid type, but she never liked discussing things of a sensitive nature out in public, in case this was the day that someone was actually stalking her again.
“When you’ve gotten a bit further, we can discuss in private.”
“Oh, sure,” said Kate, clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get the chance to impress Beatrice with her meticulous research. “By the way, I took that buff you gave me the other day to help finish the research. Got the rest done in 20 minutes, then did a bunch of my friends’ papers, then some random freshman’s problem set, and then it was only 1 AM, so I-”
“Glad you liked it. Packs a punch, doesn’t it?” Beatrice made a note to dilute the next batch she made. It wasn’t supposed to cause such a strong reaction, but maybe Beatrice had misjudged how intense Kate was.
“Definitely. Umm, say, you wouldn’t happen to have any more of those, would you?”
Red flag, red flag, thought Beatrice. The last thing she needed was her trainee to go on a bender and end up being fished out of the East River naked.
“You’re in luck,” Beatrice said, reaching into her bag and pulling out one of the “regular” buffs. “It’s my last one. Waiting for some new raw materials to make another batch, so don’t waste it.”
She handed it to Kate who eyed it greedily before stuffing it in her own pocketbook. Beatrice regretted her generosity immediately, but the regular-strength version was only a hair better than a regular Adderall, so the girl wouldn’t get in too much trouble. At least she hoped.
The train screeched to a halt at the elevated station, and Beatrice beckoned Kate to follow her. They climbed down the stairs in silence as Beatrice checked her watch. 1:10. They were going to be late, and late meant not only a squandered opportunity but a ding to her reputation on the Raid Board. She had come close to failing a raid, once, but repressed that memory. No need for unnecessary negativity.
“Come on, it’s not much further,” she said to Kate as she quickened her pace.
“Where are we going anyway?” asked Kate, who matched her brisk strides.
“The Requester wants us to procure certain items from an estate sale,” Beatrice said.
“That’s it? Couldn’t they have gone themselves?”
“Sure, but when you’re flush with tokens, why would you stoop to such labor yourself when you can sit back in your comfy chair and let others do the dirty work for you?”
When she first received access to the Raid Board, Beatrice was beyond ecstatic. Her years of fetch Quests would finally be over, and she pictured grander Quests uncovering ancient magical objects and the like. But her enthusiasm was tempered during that first visit to the Board, when all but a few of the raids were just more elaborate fetch Quests. Plus, she hadn’t realized that the raids required more than one person.
That was when she had begun her trainee program, and it had mostly been an unmitigated disaster thus far. The hours Beatrice spent seeding the Quest Board in search of potential partners had been too many to count, and all she had gotten for her efforts was a handful of abject failures.
Her first attempt she could chalk up to inexperience. He was a dorky engineer, the kind that had littered her undergrad classes and who had quickly become infatuated with her to the point of obsession. Not that Beatrice was the second coming of Helen of Troy, but she had the rare combination of attractiveness and approachability that made all manner of nerd think they had a shot with her.
After that unfortunate ending, she had made a rule: women only. But her next attempts suffered from the wrong power dynamic - they were older women who came to the Quests later in life and didn’t like taking orders from someone 20 years their junior. Most ended up going out on their own, which saved Beatrice from any real unpleasantries. Now she hoped she had identified the perfect candidate pool for future prospects, but the jury was still out on that.
“We’re here,” said Beatrice. They had stopped in front of a five-story walk-up with a rusty fire escape, the kind that littered the streets of Bed-Stuy. She hit the buzzer for 5A, and a few seconds later, the outer door clicked open.
The lobby was deserted, and so Beatrice ventured cautiously toward the stairs, stopping at the bottom.
“What are you doing?” asked Kate.
“Listening. Shhh.”
If anyone had gotten there ahead of them, they weren’t making a lot of noise. Beatrice retreated and walked towards the mailboxes at the back of the lobby, and began rummaging through her purse.
“Why aren’t we going up?”
“Because I need to give you something first,” said Beatrice, reaching her hand into her bag. “I said that our employer probably was just using their money to hire us instead of getting their lazy ass down here, but there’s also a chance that someone else knows what’s for sale here, so we need to be adequately prepared for that probability.”
She removed the knife and unsheathed it from its leather scabbard. The smooth metal of the blade reflected the dirty fluorescent light in the vestibule, emitting a glossy sheen. She grasped the ivory handle and made a few quick stabs in the air before resheathing it.
“Here,” said Beatrice, handing the knife to Kate, whose eyes widened.
“W-what, why are you giving that to me?” It was clear from the girl’s suddenly pale face that she had never handled a weapon before, and Beatrice didn’t have to use her imagination to picture what would happen if the girl tried to use the knife. Especially that particular knife.
“You know what, on second thought, why don’t you let me hold onto that?”
Beatrice took the knife back and placed it in her pocketbook.
“If the raid goes south, just try to stay out of the way,” she offered.
“Umm, OK,” said Kate. “Aren’t we just going upstairs, buying some random item, and then leaving? It’s not like we’re breaking into the Met or something.”
“You’d be surprised at how often a mundane exercise turns into an extraordinary one, especially if the Guild decides to get involved,” said Beatrice, her eyes drifting down to the almost-faded scar under her jeans that ran the length of her right thigh. “Let’s go.”
They walked up the short flights of stairs in silence. Beatrice grasped the strap of her pocketbook tightly, as if that would help calm her nerves. It didn’t, but the amethyst ring that was normally slotted below her engagement ring would have. Except, in a bone-headed move, she had left it downtown. Not that she expected to need it today, as it would be an absurd waste to use it during such a routine task. But wearing it provided a manner of reassurance that she was now lacking. Well, what’s done was done, and the knife would have to be enough today.
The door to 5A was slightly ajar when they arrived on the final landing. Because they’re expecting us, thought Beatrice. Not because that fop Gilbert was lying in wait inside. Well, she thought, only one way to find out.
Beatrice pushed the door open and stepped in slowly. The room was empty. No, that was a bad word. It was bare. Where the furniture had once sat, only dents on the pale green carpet remained. The walls too were barren, except for rectangle-shaped squares of white where paintings or pictures had once hung. She was too late.
“Hello,” said a soft, raspy voice behind her, causing Beatrice to nearly jump out of her skin. She lowered her hand into her pocketbook, ready to brandish the knife at whoever had spoken, and slowly turned around.
A little old man who looked like a mole rat with glasses and an ugly sweater sat in a worn, leather chair right next to the door. Why she had missed him at first glance, she wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t Gilbert and he didn’t seem very threatening, so she let go of the knife and lowered her guard slightly.
“Hi, umm. We’re here for the estate sale?” Beatrice said. She could see Kate peering in from the hallway and waved her inside.
“What? Oh right. My sister’s things.” The old man pulled a piece of paper out of one of the pockets in his sweater and held it close to his face. “Yes, there’s an estate sale here today at 1:30. But it’s over.”
“But it’s only 1:33, sir. How is the sale already over?” asked Kate. “We didn’t see anyone leaving on our way up.”
“Hmm?” the old man peered through the thick lenses of his glasses at Beatrice, then at Kate. “There’s two of you? You’re a looker, aren’t you?” he said, pointing at Kate. “And you’re not so bad either. Must be my lucky day.”
Kate blushed at the comment, and Beatrice grimaced.
“Anyways, what was I saying? Oh right. Someone came this morning and offered to take the whole lot off my hands. Offered next to nothing but I took it just the same. Heh.” The old man’s chuckling gave way to a hacking cough, and Beatrice turned away in disgust.
“Serves Doreen right. Wasn’t even giving me the money. Nope. All going to some stupid charity for cats or something. She didn’t even have a cat!”
“I see,” said Beatrice. This whole outing was turning into an outright disaster and she was furious at herself for ruining her perfect raid record because she hadn’t thought of going to the estate sale before it started. It was a mistake a seasoned Quester like her should never have made.
“It sounds like she was very difficult to get along with,” said Kate. “My mom was like that, always complaining about this thing or that thing. She probably set the record for angry letters to the editor in our town paper.”
Beatrice glared at her. What was she doing? Trying to make the old man even more annoyed?
“Oh yes. That was Doreen to a T. She had a talent for it though. Always seemed to get what she wanted. Like getting me to schlep up here from Baltimore to take care of her stuff. At my age. As if I had all the time and money in the world. Which I don’t. But then I got that letter and, bam, suddenly I’m on the next bus.”
Beatrice’s face lit up and she turned to look at Kate, who smiled. The girl was full of surprises, apparently.
“Do you happen to have that letter still?” asked Kate.
The old man nodded.
“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s in my bag over there in the kitchen. Be a dear and bring it over, would you?”
The girl dashed over to the kitchen and returned with a folded piece of paper.
“Mind if I take a look at that?” said Beatrice.
“Knock yourself out,” said the old man.
Beatrice unfolded the crinkly yellow paper. The text was barely legible but her eyes were for some reason drawn to the words, which were written in deep black ink.
“Morton,
I’m dying. Get up here and take care of my stuff after I go.
-Doreen”
Beatrice ran a finger over the words. The ink felt almost like finger paint, like she could scrape it right off the paper with the right tools.
“Your sister wasn’t much for words, was she?”
Morton shook his head.
“Nope. Can’t say I’m sad she’s gone, she was as rotten as a person could be, but part of me misses her phone calls.”
“When they came and took out her stuff earlier, did you happen to see the pens or the ink she used to write this?”
Beatrice held the letter in front of Morton, whose eyes suddenly became fixed to the paper, as if he were in a daze, and she quickly withdrew it from his sight.
“No. They took everything. Well, except the bed. Couldn’t get it out the door for some reason. And this chair obviously. I wasn’t about to let them pull it out from under me. Not sure if they’re coming back, but I hope they don’t. I need somewhere to sleep tonight and this chair is qui-”
Beatrice sprinted to the little bedroom, hoping beyond hope that the Guild had not been as thorough as it appeared. The windowless room was as empty as the other one, save for a queen mattress on a box spring. It took up more than half the room and featured all manner of stain and discoloration, but at this particular moment, Beatrice couldn’t care less, as she flipped up the mattress in one fluid motion to reveal...
Nothing.
Except the top of the box spring. She flipped that up too and was rewarded with a view of the parquet floor underneath. No secret stash, not even an empty box or a note saying “Haha, beat you to it.” She had failed. For a second time.
Beatrice let go of the box spring and sat on top of it, the dirty mattress now leaning against her back. This should have been a simple raid, an easy win. But no. The Guild had bested her again. She felt all the fury and rage build up inside her - this failed raid, Garrett’s latest dalliance, her chronic lack of sleep. What was the point of all of this? Was she going to have to keep grinding forever, the Guild forever taunting her from slightly out of reach?
“Hey. Look at that.”
Kate walked into the room and Beatrice quickly brought her hand up to her eyes to wipe away the tears. She couldn’t let her trainee see her this emotional over a stupid raid.
“What?” asked Beatrice.
“There’s a bulge in the box spring. Right next to you.”
Beatrice looked to her left. Sure enough, there it was. How had she missed it? She ran her hand over the protruding fabric and could feel the outline of several small objects. A quick slice with the ivory handle of the knife sheared the fabric of the box spring, and she pulled it back to reveal a ziploc bag resting on top of a wooden slat. A ziploc bag containing two fountain pens and a small bottle of ink. She took the bottle out of the bag and shook it next to her ear. The sloshing of liquid inside filled her heart with a joy almost equal to hearing Jack Jack’s wailing cry in the hospital that first time.
“Is that it then?” asked Kate.
Beatrice nodded.
“Yes. We’ve found it. Well, you did. Thank you.”
Beatrice suddenly stood up and gave Kate a heavy hug. The girl seemed taken aback by the gesture, and her arms hung in the air for a few moments behind Beatrice’s back before she returned the embrace.
“You’re welcome. I didn’t really do anything though.”
She released Kate from the hug and they turned away from each other. An awkward silence pervaded the room, as if a barrier between the mentor and trainee had been broken. Beatrice should have been angry at her lack of discipline, but the unexpected bounty that they had discovered had salvaged an utter disaster, and not only that, there was an an extra pen and plenty of ink for her own use.
“You did though. Anyway, let’s book it out of here before the Guild realizes what they’ve missed.”
“Sure. But what’s the Guild?”
Beatrice’s thoughts again drifted to that moonless night in the Park.
“You don’t want to know.”
Next: Beatrice’s foundation begins to crumble. Read it below. And if you’re an audiobook listener, you can listen to the entire story for free below:
